Chapter 2 of Boromir's Story. Once again, I don't take any credit for
anything in Lord of the Rings, except for Ivanne and Laine. Have a good
read!
There was a great celebration that evening for Boromir's victory, with ale, and large beasts for food, as well as music. It went on for many hours, while the light outside was growing dimmer, and the light in was growing stronger. Boromir was sitting at the High Table, with Ivanne on his left, and Denethor on his right. Faramir was sitting to the left of Ivanne, speaking merrily to her, and ignoring his father. Boromir's young daughter Laine was sitting in his lap at the moment. Boromir glanced around the huge stone room, and saw his men enjoying themselves, drinking, and dancing with their wives, with not a care in the world. He then turned his head slightly to see his father Denethor, laughing with a friend of his. Suddenly, Laine tugged on his black tunic lightly. He glanced down at her, green eyes wide in mock surprise. "Daddy, can I see Uncle Faramir? He wanted to show me dancing." Pale blue eyes met his green ones. Her short auburn hair was tied into a minuscule ponytail with a black ribbon, to match her gray and black dress. For only being about three years old, Laine was fairly good with her speech. "I don't know, can you? Are you able too, or can you escape." Playfully, he grabbed his daughter, and hugged her close to his chest. She giggled, and looked back up at him. "Please?" He laughed, and then set her down. "If he wants to. If Uncle Faramir doesn't don't bother him." By that time, Laine was already at Faramir, tugging at his black robe. Why would I ever want to leave her, and Ivanne? Not for the greatest riches in the world would I want to leave them, Boromir thought internally. He then watched his brother pick up the tiny girl, and carry her to the center of the floor, where others were already dancing. Setting her down, she started to spin wildly. Boromir smiled as Faramir grabbed her tiny fists, and started to spin her, and lead her round in a pattern. He looked over at Ivanne. She too was smiling. As people were slowly leaving the large hall, Boromir waited in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to approach his father, and explain to him his need not to go to Rivendell. Soon, his father was one of the last stragglers. Boromir, head up, walked up to his father. "My son, we need to discuss matters. Come, let us go." Denethor gestured outside, forcing a smile on his face. Boromir stepped into the chilly night air, ready to give his father an earful. For a few minutes, they walked in silence, atop the seventh level of Minas Tirth. Suddenly, his father broke the awkward silence. "My son, we have already planned your trip for you. I have already sent Lord Elrond a message that you will be coming. You leave a day from now." Boromir's heart dropped into the very bottom of his stomach. 'What do you mean father? I came out to negotiate on the terms that I would not go." He turned to face his father, anger on his face. "There is no such thing as negotiating in my eyes, my son." Denethor replied, sipping his mulled wine. "You are going to retrieve the One Ring, and bring it here. If you worry about Ivanne, you shouldn't, for you underestimate your strength." Boromir stopped his father mid-step. "I'm not going father. You have to understand." Denethor threw Boromir's hands off of his robes, and proceeded to yell. "You are going no matter what you say. It is done." He threw his mulled wine down on the ground in anger, and stormed off. Boromir's knees gave way, and he had to rest on one of the white benches surrounding the White Tree. For a moment, he sat, pondering his ways of telling Ivanne. It was to be very difficult. He put his head in his hands, and sighed. Why is it whenever I try to act civilized, he just blows up in my face? There is no way around this. I have to go. I don't have a choice. I must tell Ivanne. She will be heartbroken. It is best. Boromir swaggered to his feet, and walked into the stone fortress of Minas Tirth.
There was a great celebration that evening for Boromir's victory, with ale, and large beasts for food, as well as music. It went on for many hours, while the light outside was growing dimmer, and the light in was growing stronger. Boromir was sitting at the High Table, with Ivanne on his left, and Denethor on his right. Faramir was sitting to the left of Ivanne, speaking merrily to her, and ignoring his father. Boromir's young daughter Laine was sitting in his lap at the moment. Boromir glanced around the huge stone room, and saw his men enjoying themselves, drinking, and dancing with their wives, with not a care in the world. He then turned his head slightly to see his father Denethor, laughing with a friend of his. Suddenly, Laine tugged on his black tunic lightly. He glanced down at her, green eyes wide in mock surprise. "Daddy, can I see Uncle Faramir? He wanted to show me dancing." Pale blue eyes met his green ones. Her short auburn hair was tied into a minuscule ponytail with a black ribbon, to match her gray and black dress. For only being about three years old, Laine was fairly good with her speech. "I don't know, can you? Are you able too, or can you escape." Playfully, he grabbed his daughter, and hugged her close to his chest. She giggled, and looked back up at him. "Please?" He laughed, and then set her down. "If he wants to. If Uncle Faramir doesn't don't bother him." By that time, Laine was already at Faramir, tugging at his black robe. Why would I ever want to leave her, and Ivanne? Not for the greatest riches in the world would I want to leave them, Boromir thought internally. He then watched his brother pick up the tiny girl, and carry her to the center of the floor, where others were already dancing. Setting her down, she started to spin wildly. Boromir smiled as Faramir grabbed her tiny fists, and started to spin her, and lead her round in a pattern. He looked over at Ivanne. She too was smiling. As people were slowly leaving the large hall, Boromir waited in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to approach his father, and explain to him his need not to go to Rivendell. Soon, his father was one of the last stragglers. Boromir, head up, walked up to his father. "My son, we need to discuss matters. Come, let us go." Denethor gestured outside, forcing a smile on his face. Boromir stepped into the chilly night air, ready to give his father an earful. For a few minutes, they walked in silence, atop the seventh level of Minas Tirth. Suddenly, his father broke the awkward silence. "My son, we have already planned your trip for you. I have already sent Lord Elrond a message that you will be coming. You leave a day from now." Boromir's heart dropped into the very bottom of his stomach. 'What do you mean father? I came out to negotiate on the terms that I would not go." He turned to face his father, anger on his face. "There is no such thing as negotiating in my eyes, my son." Denethor replied, sipping his mulled wine. "You are going to retrieve the One Ring, and bring it here. If you worry about Ivanne, you shouldn't, for you underestimate your strength." Boromir stopped his father mid-step. "I'm not going father. You have to understand." Denethor threw Boromir's hands off of his robes, and proceeded to yell. "You are going no matter what you say. It is done." He threw his mulled wine down on the ground in anger, and stormed off. Boromir's knees gave way, and he had to rest on one of the white benches surrounding the White Tree. For a moment, he sat, pondering his ways of telling Ivanne. It was to be very difficult. He put his head in his hands, and sighed. Why is it whenever I try to act civilized, he just blows up in my face? There is no way around this. I have to go. I don't have a choice. I must tell Ivanne. She will be heartbroken. It is best. Boromir swaggered to his feet, and walked into the stone fortress of Minas Tirth.