A story about Boromir, and his depart from his wife and child, for the
Fellowship of the Ring. I do not claim any credit for any characters or
ideas for J.R.R. Tolkien, except for Laine and Ivanne, who are my own
creations.
Boromir, son of Denethor sat by a dreary window, watching the rain rhythmically spat on the window. The sky outside was dark, and stormy, which made the whole world look dreary. The fields of Pelannor were damp with mud, muck, and miserable rain, and none were out and about. His large pale hand was held under his scrubby red beard, and his eyes were traveling over the desolate land. He was deep in thought over the suggestion that his father had just made to him only hours before. Boromir was shoved back into a small stone courtyard, away from all of his men. Denethor looked around, watching for any prying ears, then turned back to Boromir. "Elrond of Rivendell has called a meeting. He will not say why, but I have guessed its purpose. It is rumored that the weapon of the enemy has been found." Boromir's green eyes grew wide, and he said in a voice barely over a whisper, "The One Ring. Isildur's Bane." Denethor nodded his head, continuing. "It has fallen into the hands of the Elves. Everyone will try to claim it: Men, Dwarves, wizards. We cannot let that happen. This thing must come to Gondor." Boromir shook his head in protest, but Denethor shoved his son lightly back into the wall, pinning him against it. "It's dangerous, I know. Ever the Ring will seek to corrupt the hearts of lesser Men. But you, you are strong. And out need is great. It is our blood which is being spilled, our people who are dying. Sauron is biding his time. He's massing fresh armies. He will return, and when he does, we will be powerless to stop him. You must go. Bring back this mighty gift." Now Boromir had a look of anger on his face. "No. My place is here with my people. Not in Rivendell." He pushed his father off of him, and stormed out of the courtyard, and into the sunlight. Denethor followed, his voice loud enough so that it would attract stares. "Would you deny your own father?" Faramir suddenly appeared in front of the father and son, and politely inquired, "If there is a need to go to Rivendell...send me in his stead." Denethor turned to his younger son, and sneered. "You? Oh, I see. A chance for Faramir, captain of Gondor to show his quality. I think not. I trust this mission only to your brother. The one who will not fail me." Denethor turned, gray and black robes swishing out behind him. Boromir came back to reality after the flashback. He had never like his father, and this was a good example of how much he really hated his father. His fists started to clench. He knew what he must do, but leave his wife, family, and only daughter? That would be the biggest wound that he would bear through out his life. Suddenly, a slender hand touched his shoulder, and rubbed it lovingly. He looked up, and saw his wife, Ivanne. In his eyes, she was the most beautiful woman in all of Middle Earth. She was indeed beautiful, with wavy raven hair, which reached down to her slim waist. She was fairly pale, and she had clear, blue eyes, that were the color of a mountain stream. Strange she was, for she was about as tall as her husband, save a few inches. "Have you made your choice, my love?" she asked, voice calm, and surprisingly impenetrable. She said this with a strait face, but she knew the chances that Boromir would be taking, going to Rivendell, and helping transport the 'weapon' or whatever the scholars were talking about. Ivanne also knew that Boromir should make his father happy, and proud by going to this quest, but she did not feel that he had to go. Faramir was completely capable of going, for he didn't have a spouse, nor children. She loved Faramir like a brother, but he definitely had more reason to go. "No, I have not. I am torn my love, between my father's wishes, and the well-being of you, and Laine." He replied, sighing as he said those words. Laine was Boromir's only child. She was still little, only being about 3 years old. She was as precious to Boromir as his wife, and more so then his father. He had learned to hate his father, just as Faramir did, because Denethor could be cruel, and over controlling. All in all, he wasn't a very enjoyable person. But he still felt a desire to please him, and show his worth, as did Faramir. Boromir walked up to his wife, and held her in his arms, holding her head to his broad shoulder. He smoothed her hair, then kissed the bridge of her nose, as if reassuring her. Putting a long finger under her chin, he brought her smooth face into his gaze. Her face was streaked with tears, and her eyes were red. He stroked her cheek, then kissed her once more. "I will never see you again Boromir. You have a choice. You do not have to go." Looking deep into her eyes, he answered softly, "Of course you will see me again. I would never truly leave you, you know that." Putting her face back on his shoulder, she shuddered, and stayed there, in the sanctuary of his arms. "I have not made a decision quite yet. I still have a few more days to do so. Do not worry." Secretly, he knew that he only really had a day to make his decision, but he did not want to make his wife even more depressed. He would go talk to his father, but not now. When he had time to cool off a bit.
Boromir, son of Denethor sat by a dreary window, watching the rain rhythmically spat on the window. The sky outside was dark, and stormy, which made the whole world look dreary. The fields of Pelannor were damp with mud, muck, and miserable rain, and none were out and about. His large pale hand was held under his scrubby red beard, and his eyes were traveling over the desolate land. He was deep in thought over the suggestion that his father had just made to him only hours before. Boromir was shoved back into a small stone courtyard, away from all of his men. Denethor looked around, watching for any prying ears, then turned back to Boromir. "Elrond of Rivendell has called a meeting. He will not say why, but I have guessed its purpose. It is rumored that the weapon of the enemy has been found." Boromir's green eyes grew wide, and he said in a voice barely over a whisper, "The One Ring. Isildur's Bane." Denethor nodded his head, continuing. "It has fallen into the hands of the Elves. Everyone will try to claim it: Men, Dwarves, wizards. We cannot let that happen. This thing must come to Gondor." Boromir shook his head in protest, but Denethor shoved his son lightly back into the wall, pinning him against it. "It's dangerous, I know. Ever the Ring will seek to corrupt the hearts of lesser Men. But you, you are strong. And out need is great. It is our blood which is being spilled, our people who are dying. Sauron is biding his time. He's massing fresh armies. He will return, and when he does, we will be powerless to stop him. You must go. Bring back this mighty gift." Now Boromir had a look of anger on his face. "No. My place is here with my people. Not in Rivendell." He pushed his father off of him, and stormed out of the courtyard, and into the sunlight. Denethor followed, his voice loud enough so that it would attract stares. "Would you deny your own father?" Faramir suddenly appeared in front of the father and son, and politely inquired, "If there is a need to go to Rivendell...send me in his stead." Denethor turned to his younger son, and sneered. "You? Oh, I see. A chance for Faramir, captain of Gondor to show his quality. I think not. I trust this mission only to your brother. The one who will not fail me." Denethor turned, gray and black robes swishing out behind him. Boromir came back to reality after the flashback. He had never like his father, and this was a good example of how much he really hated his father. His fists started to clench. He knew what he must do, but leave his wife, family, and only daughter? That would be the biggest wound that he would bear through out his life. Suddenly, a slender hand touched his shoulder, and rubbed it lovingly. He looked up, and saw his wife, Ivanne. In his eyes, she was the most beautiful woman in all of Middle Earth. She was indeed beautiful, with wavy raven hair, which reached down to her slim waist. She was fairly pale, and she had clear, blue eyes, that were the color of a mountain stream. Strange she was, for she was about as tall as her husband, save a few inches. "Have you made your choice, my love?" she asked, voice calm, and surprisingly impenetrable. She said this with a strait face, but she knew the chances that Boromir would be taking, going to Rivendell, and helping transport the 'weapon' or whatever the scholars were talking about. Ivanne also knew that Boromir should make his father happy, and proud by going to this quest, but she did not feel that he had to go. Faramir was completely capable of going, for he didn't have a spouse, nor children. She loved Faramir like a brother, but he definitely had more reason to go. "No, I have not. I am torn my love, between my father's wishes, and the well-being of you, and Laine." He replied, sighing as he said those words. Laine was Boromir's only child. She was still little, only being about 3 years old. She was as precious to Boromir as his wife, and more so then his father. He had learned to hate his father, just as Faramir did, because Denethor could be cruel, and over controlling. All in all, he wasn't a very enjoyable person. But he still felt a desire to please him, and show his worth, as did Faramir. Boromir walked up to his wife, and held her in his arms, holding her head to his broad shoulder. He smoothed her hair, then kissed the bridge of her nose, as if reassuring her. Putting a long finger under her chin, he brought her smooth face into his gaze. Her face was streaked with tears, and her eyes were red. He stroked her cheek, then kissed her once more. "I will never see you again Boromir. You have a choice. You do not have to go." Looking deep into her eyes, he answered softly, "Of course you will see me again. I would never truly leave you, you know that." Putting her face back on his shoulder, she shuddered, and stayed there, in the sanctuary of his arms. "I have not made a decision quite yet. I still have a few more days to do so. Do not worry." Secretly, he knew that he only really had a day to make his decision, but he did not want to make his wife even more depressed. He would go talk to his father, but not now. When he had time to cool off a bit.