Disclaimer ~ I don't own the characters or the plot, which belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, but I do own the words.
I watched silently as the life flowed from my companions eyes, rendering them empty and dead. Leaning down, I kissed the man's forhead and closed his eyes, no longer wishing to stare into them.
'May you find peace.' I muttered, standing. I knew I should feel more regrett at his passing, but my heart felt cold, as dead as the broken body that lay at my feet. Somehow, I convinced myself that I was simply in denial, but, in my heart, I knew that was not true.
I turned away from the corpse, then realized with shock that that's all he was to me. A corpse, an empty shell that had once held life but now lay sprawled in the earth, the black arrows of the Uruk-Hai still protruding from his body.
People say that when you go through hell with someone, you and that person will forever be bound together, but if all we, as a fellowship, had gone through had not been hell, then I do not dare think of what might be. And yet, I still felt nothing. No emptiness, no regret.
Boromir had died, and I knew what it was he'd been trying to tell me as his life seeped out in the form of blood. He'd changed his mind about me. I should be king. He now wanted me to take the position that I had fled from for so long. And still, there was nothing.
I thought of Frodo, still bearing the burden of the One Ring. That shiney golden peice that Boromir had tried to take from him. That I had thought of so much since I had met the hobbit. But I had let Frodo go, something that Boromir, in all his glory, could not do. At last, I felt something, but it wasn't sadness.
I watched silently as the life flowed from my companions eyes, rendering them empty and dead. Leaning down, I kissed the man's forhead and closed his eyes, no longer wishing to stare into them.
'May you find peace.' I muttered, standing. I knew I should feel more regrett at his passing, but my heart felt cold, as dead as the broken body that lay at my feet. Somehow, I convinced myself that I was simply in denial, but, in my heart, I knew that was not true.
I turned away from the corpse, then realized with shock that that's all he was to me. A corpse, an empty shell that had once held life but now lay sprawled in the earth, the black arrows of the Uruk-Hai still protruding from his body.
People say that when you go through hell with someone, you and that person will forever be bound together, but if all we, as a fellowship, had gone through had not been hell, then I do not dare think of what might be. And yet, I still felt nothing. No emptiness, no regret.
Boromir had died, and I knew what it was he'd been trying to tell me as his life seeped out in the form of blood. He'd changed his mind about me. I should be king. He now wanted me to take the position that I had fled from for so long. And still, there was nothing.
I thought of Frodo, still bearing the burden of the One Ring. That shiney golden peice that Boromir had tried to take from him. That I had thought of so much since I had met the hobbit. But I had let Frodo go, something that Boromir, in all his glory, could not do. At last, I felt something, but it wasn't sadness.