WHILE NO-ONE WATCHED
Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, who was a magnificent author. This particular piece also owes a lot to Sean Bean's portrayal of Boromir. Is based mostly on the movie versions. Pg-13 for violence in later chapters.
Autumn leaves fluttered down onto the road in an amber, afternoon sunlight. It was a light that seemed to creep over the hills and crawl from between the trees, rather than to shine freely from above. It was not cold and it was not winter but Boromir, son of Denethor, shivered within his tunic as his horse plodded up the winding path to Rivendell.
The world seemed as if in a hazy, sleepy unreality. For a moment, Boromir fancied that the light was the same false security which lurked in his distant homeland of Gondor. If he gave in to the temptation and submitted to sleep, would this strange feeling be shattered by a harsh reality of shrieking orcs, gnashing teeth, clanging metal and the screams of dying men? Would he be once more in the fierce battle to retake Osgiliath? In truth, it had ended up as more of a city-wide brawl than a well co-ordinated battle but the day had still been won.
For now this familiar world of violence and fear had been left behind him, at his father's command. At his father's command, he travelled to the Elven city of Rivendell to attend a Council Meeting. Boromir wished for his homeland bitterly. It was not the endless, bloody battle to defend their borders that Boromir missed but his people and his city. He thought of his dear brother, Faramir. Dear Faramir, who was his junior as a Captain as well as in years. He thought of his loyal troops, picturing their faces and summoning their names to his mind. While Faramir had intended to return to Ithilien, Boromir's men had been left behind to strengthen the garrison of Osgiliath. Boromir could still hear his own farewells, as if he had spoken them seconds ago rather than more than a month past.
* * * * *
"In my absence I'm trusting you with my very own company, Lieutenant Varancil," he had cautioned, spoiling his stern words with a wolfish smile. Boromir, dressed in travelling clothes for his imminent departure, had looked down from his horse at the aging Lieutenant. Boromir's second-in- command, Varancil was an unimaginative but solid leader. Well used to Boromir's ways, Varancil had grinnned toothily. "We will make good use of the time, my Lord," said Varancil heartily.
His answering grin was no less wolfish but quite a sight more unsettling since Varancil was missing several of his teeth. "Mind you don't let the orcs come dancing in the moment I've left the city gates," continued Boromir teasingly. "You know well the ways of the men, my Lord," shot back Varancil.
Boromir nodded approvingly at Varancil and gathered his horse's reins. Before Boromir could coax his horse forward, Varancil had seized the bridle of Boromir's horse and guided it around for him. Boromir was about to protest that he needed no nursemaid when he saw how tightly Varancil's hands gripped the bridle. His knuckles were white. If Varancil was distracted enough to risk angering Boromir by unneccessary attentions, he must be extremely worried indeed. Boromir could not bring himself to call Varancil on it so he indulged him instead and said nothing of it.
Varancil paced beside Boromir's horse as they made their way through the pitted and scarred streets of Osgiliath. As Boromir and Varancil passed into the last courtyard before the gate, they both caught sight of a lone figure waiting for them. The expensive cloak but trim physique gave away the figure's identity as Captain Faramir himself.
Perhaps without realising it, Varancil's hand gripped Boromir's reins again. Boromir found his own grip tightening, the leather twisting against his palm. He halted the horse and looked down at Varancil. Boromir was not quite sure at first how to ask what he wanted. He settled for echoing his earlier words. "In my absence, I'm trusting you with my very own," Boromir whispered hoarsely. Varancil looked up at Boromir, puzzled. Boromir flickered his glance to Faramir and then back to Varancil. Varancil's face settled into understanding. "I will not fail you, my Lord," Varancil promised solemnly. "And I will not fail him."
* * * * *
Boromir had to admit that he not only feared for Faramir's safety but also for Faramir's competence. Faramir's heart could not be doubted but rarely had so important a task been left to him before. What if Mordor made another attempt to take Osgiliath or Ithilien while Boromir was not there to guide him? Even if Faramir finally proved himself, the enemy was strong. Boromir could not keep his thoughts from his brother for very long.
On the other hand, Boromir did not miss his father's company nearly so very much. Although Boromir would freely admit that he loved Denethor, the strain of constantly placating and compromising in family arguments was draining. It was a relief to be released from that burden. It was only a slight twinge of guilt that he felt at leaving Faramir to deal with their father alone.
Instead, Boromir travelled to a distant outpost of Elves to seek counsel. The Elves, who had withdrawn their people and their protection into the east, leaving Gondor to bear the brunt of Mordor's malice. Whispers and rumours had reached Boromir that the Elves were leaving Middle- Earth. They were abandoning what Boromir's men were still dying to defend. He did not look forward to sharing the company of elves, who had always looked down their noses at him whenever he dared cross their paths.
Now as his horse plodded up the path, Boromir could feel the eyes of the elves upon him. He scanned the trees along the path but not even his sharp eyes could catch those that were watching him. Spying. As if they mistrusted Boromir's presence when it was they who had invited him in the first place. "Very well," Boromir thought to himself. "I am not welcome but I neither will I turn away. I am here so that Gondor and the deeds of it's soldiers are not forgotten. And they shall not be forgotten." With that resolution, Boromir sat taller in his saddle and nudged his horse into a trot.
So it was that Boromir passed beneath the archway feeling alone and unwelcome. He searched with his eyes again but it seemed none of the Elves would deign to come out and greet him. No-one was even making a pretence at watching his arrival, despite the fact that it had taken him almost a solid month of riding to reach Rivendell. No-one was even watching.
Boromir frowned sullenly at the buildings around him. Despite his foul mood, he found the hazy beauty of the buildings drew his eyes upwards. There, on the balcony. There was somebody watching. A tall grey figure with a long beard. Mithrandir, the wizard also known as Gandalf, was watching Boromir arrive.
What was Boromir to make of Mithrandir's presence? He had not expected the wizard to be here. What would Mithrandir make of Boromir? Denethor had little time for the grey pilgrim, while Faramir trailed in his wake like a shadow. Mithrandir seemed to nurture Faramir, so while it angered Denethor, Boromir was secretly glad that the wizard had taken the boy under his wing. So whenever Faramir was near Mithrandir, Boromir deliberately withdrew since he knew that many a time he had unintentionally stolen the attention that Faramir was due. Whenever Denethor was near, Boromir did not see a need to needlessly antagonise his father by being more than polite to Mithrandir.
So Mithrandir had few words for Boromir and Boromir had few to give in return. Now they would meet again, without brother, father or other cares to command Boromir's behaviour or attention. Except for Boromir's duty to Gondor and he doubted that Mithrandir could support anything that would risk Gondor.
As Boromir halted his horse at the steps to the house, Mithrandir turned away from the balcony. The Elves finally descended from on high to acknowledge Boromir's presence. They gave directions in beautiful, fair voices then turned and led the way without a second glance. And so Boromir, son of Denethor, entered Rivendell that is also known as Imladris and no- one cared enough to watch.
* * *
Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, who was a magnificent author. This particular piece also owes a lot to Sean Bean's portrayal of Boromir. Is based mostly on the movie versions. Pg-13 for violence in later chapters.
Autumn leaves fluttered down onto the road in an amber, afternoon sunlight. It was a light that seemed to creep over the hills and crawl from between the trees, rather than to shine freely from above. It was not cold and it was not winter but Boromir, son of Denethor, shivered within his tunic as his horse plodded up the winding path to Rivendell.
The world seemed as if in a hazy, sleepy unreality. For a moment, Boromir fancied that the light was the same false security which lurked in his distant homeland of Gondor. If he gave in to the temptation and submitted to sleep, would this strange feeling be shattered by a harsh reality of shrieking orcs, gnashing teeth, clanging metal and the screams of dying men? Would he be once more in the fierce battle to retake Osgiliath? In truth, it had ended up as more of a city-wide brawl than a well co-ordinated battle but the day had still been won.
For now this familiar world of violence and fear had been left behind him, at his father's command. At his father's command, he travelled to the Elven city of Rivendell to attend a Council Meeting. Boromir wished for his homeland bitterly. It was not the endless, bloody battle to defend their borders that Boromir missed but his people and his city. He thought of his dear brother, Faramir. Dear Faramir, who was his junior as a Captain as well as in years. He thought of his loyal troops, picturing their faces and summoning their names to his mind. While Faramir had intended to return to Ithilien, Boromir's men had been left behind to strengthen the garrison of Osgiliath. Boromir could still hear his own farewells, as if he had spoken them seconds ago rather than more than a month past.
* * * * *
"In my absence I'm trusting you with my very own company, Lieutenant Varancil," he had cautioned, spoiling his stern words with a wolfish smile. Boromir, dressed in travelling clothes for his imminent departure, had looked down from his horse at the aging Lieutenant. Boromir's second-in- command, Varancil was an unimaginative but solid leader. Well used to Boromir's ways, Varancil had grinnned toothily. "We will make good use of the time, my Lord," said Varancil heartily.
His answering grin was no less wolfish but quite a sight more unsettling since Varancil was missing several of his teeth. "Mind you don't let the orcs come dancing in the moment I've left the city gates," continued Boromir teasingly. "You know well the ways of the men, my Lord," shot back Varancil.
Boromir nodded approvingly at Varancil and gathered his horse's reins. Before Boromir could coax his horse forward, Varancil had seized the bridle of Boromir's horse and guided it around for him. Boromir was about to protest that he needed no nursemaid when he saw how tightly Varancil's hands gripped the bridle. His knuckles were white. If Varancil was distracted enough to risk angering Boromir by unneccessary attentions, he must be extremely worried indeed. Boromir could not bring himself to call Varancil on it so he indulged him instead and said nothing of it.
Varancil paced beside Boromir's horse as they made their way through the pitted and scarred streets of Osgiliath. As Boromir and Varancil passed into the last courtyard before the gate, they both caught sight of a lone figure waiting for them. The expensive cloak but trim physique gave away the figure's identity as Captain Faramir himself.
Perhaps without realising it, Varancil's hand gripped Boromir's reins again. Boromir found his own grip tightening, the leather twisting against his palm. He halted the horse and looked down at Varancil. Boromir was not quite sure at first how to ask what he wanted. He settled for echoing his earlier words. "In my absence, I'm trusting you with my very own," Boromir whispered hoarsely. Varancil looked up at Boromir, puzzled. Boromir flickered his glance to Faramir and then back to Varancil. Varancil's face settled into understanding. "I will not fail you, my Lord," Varancil promised solemnly. "And I will not fail him."
* * * * *
Boromir had to admit that he not only feared for Faramir's safety but also for Faramir's competence. Faramir's heart could not be doubted but rarely had so important a task been left to him before. What if Mordor made another attempt to take Osgiliath or Ithilien while Boromir was not there to guide him? Even if Faramir finally proved himself, the enemy was strong. Boromir could not keep his thoughts from his brother for very long.
On the other hand, Boromir did not miss his father's company nearly so very much. Although Boromir would freely admit that he loved Denethor, the strain of constantly placating and compromising in family arguments was draining. It was a relief to be released from that burden. It was only a slight twinge of guilt that he felt at leaving Faramir to deal with their father alone.
Instead, Boromir travelled to a distant outpost of Elves to seek counsel. The Elves, who had withdrawn their people and their protection into the east, leaving Gondor to bear the brunt of Mordor's malice. Whispers and rumours had reached Boromir that the Elves were leaving Middle- Earth. They were abandoning what Boromir's men were still dying to defend. He did not look forward to sharing the company of elves, who had always looked down their noses at him whenever he dared cross their paths.
Now as his horse plodded up the path, Boromir could feel the eyes of the elves upon him. He scanned the trees along the path but not even his sharp eyes could catch those that were watching him. Spying. As if they mistrusted Boromir's presence when it was they who had invited him in the first place. "Very well," Boromir thought to himself. "I am not welcome but I neither will I turn away. I am here so that Gondor and the deeds of it's soldiers are not forgotten. And they shall not be forgotten." With that resolution, Boromir sat taller in his saddle and nudged his horse into a trot.
So it was that Boromir passed beneath the archway feeling alone and unwelcome. He searched with his eyes again but it seemed none of the Elves would deign to come out and greet him. No-one was even making a pretence at watching his arrival, despite the fact that it had taken him almost a solid month of riding to reach Rivendell. No-one was even watching.
Boromir frowned sullenly at the buildings around him. Despite his foul mood, he found the hazy beauty of the buildings drew his eyes upwards. There, on the balcony. There was somebody watching. A tall grey figure with a long beard. Mithrandir, the wizard also known as Gandalf, was watching Boromir arrive.
What was Boromir to make of Mithrandir's presence? He had not expected the wizard to be here. What would Mithrandir make of Boromir? Denethor had little time for the grey pilgrim, while Faramir trailed in his wake like a shadow. Mithrandir seemed to nurture Faramir, so while it angered Denethor, Boromir was secretly glad that the wizard had taken the boy under his wing. So whenever Faramir was near Mithrandir, Boromir deliberately withdrew since he knew that many a time he had unintentionally stolen the attention that Faramir was due. Whenever Denethor was near, Boromir did not see a need to needlessly antagonise his father by being more than polite to Mithrandir.
So Mithrandir had few words for Boromir and Boromir had few to give in return. Now they would meet again, without brother, father or other cares to command Boromir's behaviour or attention. Except for Boromir's duty to Gondor and he doubted that Mithrandir could support anything that would risk Gondor.
As Boromir halted his horse at the steps to the house, Mithrandir turned away from the balcony. The Elves finally descended from on high to acknowledge Boromir's presence. They gave directions in beautiful, fair voices then turned and led the way without a second glance. And so Boromir, son of Denethor, entered Rivendell that is also known as Imladris and no- one cared enough to watch.
* * *