Title: Beyond the Sea

Author: Sasjah Miller

Pairing: Aragorn/Boromir

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: yes, please

Archive: please ask, I'll probably say yes

Disclaimer: not mine, Tolkien's

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... Mornië utúlië (Darkness has come)

Believe and you will find your way

Mornië alantië (Darkness has fallen)

A promise lives within you now...

Enya - May it Be

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They gave me some sort of a burial, so I guess I must have died. I

don't remember much of the actual moment of my death, only that

I welcomed it as an ending to unending pain and that I was gazing

through my tears into the endless sea of Aragorn's eyes while my

lungs filled up with blood. My own tears obscuring my last view of

him, my own lifeblood drowning me, sweeping me away from him

forever.

They cleansed my body, removed the arrows that killed me, put me

in an Elven boat with my broadsword and the cloven Horn of

Gondor and as many Orc weapons as space would allow, so I think

I must have died honorably. I don't remember much of my last

fight, apart from the end, when the Halflings were carried off by

stinking Orcs, screaming and fighting and kicking, until one of the

foul creatures hit them brutally over the head so they hung like

dead weights as the creatures of darkness ran past me, their casual

carrying of their burden a final insult.

They sang a lament for me, Aragorn, and Legolas, their eyes

rimmed red with unshed tears, while Gimli stood by with bowed

bead, so my death must have meant something to them, even if my

life gave them so much grief. I betrayed them at the end. No, not

just at the end, I betrayed them right from the beginning. I never

committed myself completely to the Quest. There were too many

doubts, too much mistrust, too much pride and arrogance in my

heart to ever become a real member of the Fellowship. And all this

became my downfall in the end.

Aragorn took the bracers from my arms with more tenderness than

I had ever deserved, and he bound them around his own and filled

his quill with the arrows that had slain me, while grief and anger

raged in his eyes, so maybe, maybe, I meant something special to

him after all.

They pushed me away in this little boat of Elvengrey wood, they

sent me down the Rauros Falls because it was too dangerous for

them to give me a proper burial. I would not endanger them in

death as I had done in life by falling prey to the temptation of the

Ring. Instead of resting forever under a grassclad burial mound, I

sped downward in a roar of water and foam and never-ending

noise and spun round in whirlpools and eddies until the Anduin

slowed its course and ambled forward towards the sea. The broken

remains of my horn were washed away from me, as were the foul

Orcs' weapons, which sank to the bottom of the river, the remains

of my horn setting off on their own, unknown course.

For days I drifted down the river, settling into the rhythm of gently

lapping water, my spirit still hovering close by my dead body for

some reason not wanting to take leave of my mortal remains just

yet. And then, one night I passed the fields of Ithilien and I saw my

beloved brother sitting near the water's edge, studious, pensive, as

was always his way when he was not engaged in battle. Faramir,

my brother, I loved you so dearly, more than I ever let you know.

You were so much better than I was, even if our father did not

deem you so. I am glad that it was I who undertook the fateful

journey and not you, and that it was I who died failing to fulfill

Gondor's promise of aiding the quest to bring the ring to Mordor.

Our country would have fared so much worse if it had been

otherwise. I see that clearly now. I see my flaws, my mistakes, the

chances I missed, the opportunities I failed to see.

This is what grieves me most of all, that in death I see what I could

not when I was alive. It is all as clear to me now as the water that

surrounds me, shining like the light of the Lady Galadriel as my

funeral boat drifts ever further down the river Anduin. The river is

widening more and more, the landscape is changing, trees make

room for flat, dull plains, until the great river and I finally reach

the sea. My mind floats along with my body, out into the bluegrey

sea. I do not know for what reason, nor do I know what will

happen, but somehow my body is still linked to my soul, a tenuous

yet insistent tug pulling at my consciousness, not letting me find

peace just yet.

Seagulls accompany my still body, crying forlornly as they hover

in the sky. They sing another funeral song for the Steward's son

who failed to understand the look in the eyes of his King until it

was too late. I was too preoccupied with myself, with Gondor, with

his unwanted and unwarranted claims to the throne, claims that

were made only in my mind. I drove myself mad with jealousy and

wrongful accusations and never stopped to think what I meant to

him, or what he meant to me. Or maybe I was just too afraid to

admit it.

The Eastwind, the wind that comes from Mordor, but is now

seasoned with the sweet smell of Ithilien's flowers, speeds my boat

further and further out onto the sea. Further and further away until

even the seagulls leave me on this journey that I must make alone.

I do not know where it will end, whether I will drift forever on a

calm, grey sea, the sun filtering through my closed eyelids, the

stars unable to lift the darkness in my eyes. But I am soothed,

rocked like a little baby, the way my mother used to rock me when

I was a little child and afraid of the dark.

I am not afraid; no, how can I be. I am dead, there is nothing left to

be afraid of. If any emotion is still here it is curiosity and maybe

sadness that I will not see him again. My brother, my captain, my

King even, but never my lover. And through no fault of his, I see

that now. The offer was there all along, but I was too proud to see

it. Too consumed in my notions of what was right and befitting,

although my body betrayed itself over and over again as I would

lie awake in a dark forest and stare at his sleeping form over the

dying embers of our fire. He would have taken me, showed me

what it is to love and be loved, even if he would not have forsaken

Arwen, his betrothed. That much was clear to me from his

goodbye to her when we left Rivendell. The love they shared

would never be broken. And I would not, could not see further than

that. I would not understand that there was room for more love in

his heart besides the love for his Elven Lady. He would have loved

me just as much if I had let him. I would not recognize that he

would give me the same promise filled look when we would all sit

together at night, tired, sharing a simple meal of bread and meat. I

feel sad, realizing all this and I start to wonder how long my

journey over this sea will take or where it will end.

But something changes in the gentle, rocking motions of the water,

a shortening of the waves that moves my boat in another, more

jarring rhythm. And then my little boat is lifted in the sky, while

the earth curves away beneath me and I am now drifting in the sky

on a straight road through mist and clouds for what seems an

eternity. Other, even more magnificent seagulls than the ones from

before now sail the skies, flocking together one by one, until there

are so many I cannot count them anymore and their lonely cries

accompany me yet again on this final journey. And then the boat

gently comes to a halt, the merest of shocks indicating that I have

reached a place that is more than air and water. There is a freshness,

a greenness in the air, like a rain curtain lifting from the air, and

even in death I am gladdened.

There are voices around me, speaking in a language that I have

heard before, in dreams, in whispers, from Legolas' mouth. Elven

voices sussuring like the waves and the wind that carried me here.

Elven hands that steady the boat and pull it gently onto the shore.

And Elven hands that lift my body out of the boat and carry it

away, inland. I can do nothing but follow, my spirit still attached to

the broken and marred flesh that was once my body. The Elves

bring me to a beautiful yet somber looking hall, its walls and roof

wrought with intricate designs, and they carry me inside.

A grave looking woman sits there and they lay my body before her.

She leans forward and puts a gentle hand on my forehead and I feel

my spirit being drawn again towards my body. I slide inwards,

turning and twisting; my body shudders and I gasp and I draw my

first painful breath like a newborn baby. I open my eyes and look

up into friendly, yet immeasurably sad eyes. There is a

benevolence surrounding her that is more than I can bear. And I

cry. I ended my life crying and I am starting my life, or whatever

this gift that I have been given may be called, by crying again. I

cry for everything I have lost, for the things I could have achieved

if I had not been so flawed. I cry for I know I am in the Halls of

Mandos from where I will board Mournië, the ship that will bring

me to the unknown place where Men and all other mortals go. I cry

for I know I will not see Aragorn again, I cry for my unanswered

love. Because I now know that I loved him. I loved him with all

my heart, I merely was too blind to see it. Finally my tears dry and

the woman starts to speak, her voice soft and gentle.

"Boromir, son of Denethor, welcome to the Halls of Mandos.

Nienna I am, the one who gives solace to those waiting in my

brother's Halls. As is the right of all mortals you have been given

time to think about your past life in Arda before you will board the

dark ship Mournië to return to Eru Iluvatar, the One. But you came

not by the usual road that mortal Men will take to arrive here.

Instead you were brought here by Elven wood, clad in Elven cloak

and adorned with Elven clasp and therefore you will be given a

boon. You need not spend your waiting days in the Dark Halls of

Mandos but you will be allowed to review your life wherever you

please on this island until you will be summoned again."

I do not know what to say, but I rise and bow my head in thanks. I

look up again and see Nienna smiling at me, and the great sorrow

that was in my heart is lifted. The Elves, who have kept their

distance while I gave voice to my grief, now come over and lead

me gently away, into the sunshine.

Countless days pass and I grow stronger again, the arrow wounds

in my chest healing completely, leaving no trace or scar. I have

spent these days on the western shores of the island from which I

have watched the unfurling of the end of the Quest on Arda. I have

seen Frodo and Sam travel through the barren lands of Mordor,

their bond of love growing stronger and stronger, and I have seen

them throw the One Ring in the Crack of Doom. I have seen their

rescue and it gladdens me. It fills my heart with joy that these

things have come to pass and that in a little, twisted way my death

has contributed to this. In hindsight my death probably was

necessary to set these events in motion. Had I lived and not

succumbed to the temptation of the Ring none of this might have

happened. We would have gone on, the eight of us, travelling

together into Mordor, and we would all have been captured and

died horribly at the hands of Sauron, casting the lands of Middle-

Earth forever into misery and doom. My sombre predictions would

have come true had I not died the way I did. It hurts, yet it also

feels right: I have atoned for my sins and I now am content to sit

on the shores of Aman, to look Eastwards and wait. I do not know

what I am waiting for, but I will know what it is when it comes. I

merely enjoy sitting here, finally at peace with myself and basking

in the silveren sunlight.

I feel a light tap on my shoulder and I turn around, looking into the

radiant face of one of the Elves that brought me to the Halls of

Mandos. She smiles at me, bends over and takes my hand.

"It is time now," she says. "Come, Boromir."

I rise and let myself be led over the island, crossing the Pellinor

Mountains until the sun sets and we finally reach the dark Halls

again. I look at my companion, questioning, not knowing what is

expected of me and she beckons me to go on inside.

I go in, and again I see Nienna, sitting behind a single fire, and to

her left a group of people. I stand still, hesitating, not knowing

what is expected of me, but she beckons me forward. I cross the

hall towards her until I stand before her. I stand before her, my

head bowed in deference.

"Be welcome again, Boromir, to the Halls of Mandos from which I

sent you away before. Man of Gondor, long have you waited on

the shores of the Undying Lands, not knowing your fate, or what

awaited you. But your waiting is now over. Long years have

passed in the lands of Middle-Earth and everyone you ever knew

has died or sailed from the Grey Havens to this island. Frodo

Baggins has arrived, and Sam Gamgee, Peregrine Took, Meriadoc

Brandibuck and the one you knew as Gandalf. The last ship

brought Legolas Greenleaf, and Gimli, son of Gloin: the Elf and

his Dwarven friend. But they are not the only ones who have come

to Aman, to find their final destiny."

She looks sideways to a little group of Men standing to her left in

the gloom, who come forward as she beckons them, and I gasp in

surprise as before me stands Aragorn, and he laughs and walks up

to me. I fall to my knees, from shock and because it is the proper

thing to do: to give honor to my King.

I kneel frozenly, head bowed, cheeks aflame with shame and desire

and I do not know how I must respond, for it is not only Aragorn

who is here, but Arwen stands beside him. But she smiles at me,

takes my hand to pull me up. She whispers to me that she knows,

and has always known and that it is all right. Aragorn kisses my

brow, kisses the same spot where he gave me his goodbye kiss, the

seal of his love for me, and I smile and weep at the same time,

noticing that he is still wearing my bracers, the leather now old and

worn, the white tree barely visible anymore.

"My Boromir, Arandur mine, we will go our final road together."

He kisses me tenderly, lovingly, and I know that everything has

come full circle now. This is the reason of my waiting for so long

in the Undying Lands. We stand together, his arms around me,

holding me as if he has done so all his life. We are silent, words

are no longer necessary as everything has already been said.

Nienna speaks again, breaking the silence. "Mournië is waiting for

you to bring you beyond the boundaries of Arda and it will sail

soon. You must go now on your final journey."

The ship, its purple dark sails softly flapping in the wind, lies in

the haven on the farthest shore of Aman. Night is falling and the

stars are coming out. As the three of us board the ship I look

upwards and see a lonely seagull soar darkly against the stars, its

shape blotting out their humble light. It cries once, a farewell cry to

those who are on the verge of leaving forever. I smile at the sound

and I know that all will be well.

The ship draws away from the shore and I see figures standing

there. I recognize them, four small persons, standing hand in hand,

and an oddly matched couple of Elf and Dwarf standing nearby,

their hands lifted in greeting; a tall, stately figure is standing a little

further away, gazing benevolently at us. I know we will meet again

at the end of times, when this earth has died and from the ashes a

new earth will be born, but untill then our parting is forever.

And then we sail under an ever darkening sky, until we reach the

walls of the world, rising up so they seem to bend in on themselves.

A gate lies before us, its doors dark and unbidding, and

anticipation courses through our bodies. This will be the last

journey. What lies behind these gates will only be known to us.

The dark gate opens and the ship starts to sail through. A gentle

light, like sunlight in spring, shines through and we sail into a

radiant morning, while the air smells of flowers after a gentle rain;

our hearts rejoice as we disembark from the ship and walk into an

everlasting spring together.

The End

Story notes: I always wondered when I was reading about

Boromir's death and his journey down the Anduin about where he

would eventually end up. One day, perusing a Tolkien Lexicon I

was struck by a totally off tangent note on the story of King Arthur

after the Battle of Camlann in which Arthur is sent off, mortally

wounded, in a boat to the Island of Avalon. And then I had my very

own answer about what had happened to Boromir after he sped

down the Rauros Falls. :-)

I gleaned a lot of information about Middle Earth afterlife from the

Silmarillion, the Unfinished Tales, the Tolkien Lexicon and the

Encyclopaedia of Arda that can be found at

http://www.glyphweb.com/arda. Any mistakes and

misinterpretations are entirely mine. Feel free to point out any of

them.

The straight road that Boromir's boat is taking is a reference to

Aman's separation from the rest of Middle Earth after the

Downfall of Numenor at the end of the Second Age. As of that

moment one could only reach The Undying Lands through the

"Straight Road", the road the Elven ships were only able to take

and maybe some lost sailors who ended up there. The Halls of

Mandos are the place in Aman where the dead go to consider their

life. Nienna, Mandos' sister, spends most of her time there, and all

cry to her, for she brings strength to the spirit and turns sorrow

into wisdom. The mortals are then sent on the ship of Mournië to

Eru, the One, outside the walls of Arda, the souls of the Elves are

reawakened in a new body and sent back from Arda should they

wish so.

Lastly, Arandur is Elvish for Steward.