Summary: Boromir's thoughts during the fellowship
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the story only the plot
A/N: This is just my take on perhaps some of the thoughts Boromir could have had. Reviews are welcome, flames are so warm on a cold night.
Boromir stood watching the odd little group. Was he truly a part of this fellowship they called it. He had only wanted to take the ring and bring it to his father so that he could return to duty protecting Gondor. Now as he sat down watching the two hobbits he felt a sense of something gnawing at him. They were so small, so vulnerable. How could these wee creatures be the ones destined to take the ring to Mordor?
How had his journey brought him to this moment? How had he who was ready in the beginning to take the ring, come to love and cherish the wee creatures? He had seen them fight with ferocity. He had seen the love and brothership between them, most of all between them. He had this same connection with his brother. Faramir always wanted acceptance, he strived for it day after day, but never seemed to achieve it. Boromir had tried to help but even his influence was not enough to curb his father's accusations.
Faramir many times had been found crying tears of hopelessness by Boromir. Many times he had asked him why his father hated him so, but Boromir had no answers. True, Boromir had seen on rare occasion his father sitting staring at his mother's picture. Faramir was an exact replica of her and Boromir often thought he dredged up painful memories.
Often he tried to take Faramir away from the evil glare of his father. They would go out scouting and relish the laughter and quiet, but all too soon they would return to Minias Tirith and the unease which dwelled inside. Denethor was once such a great father, loving, always ready with praise, even to Faramir. Why now he had changed Boromir had not the slightest, but he knew while he was here trying to claim the ring for his own, his brother suffered in his own home.
The hobbit had run from him. Boromir thought he deserved the ring. His city could be at this very moment falling into ruin, his brother there fighting a battle he should be helping with and the hobbit was keeping him from it. This enraged Boromir and he pounced on Frodo trying to pry the ring from his grasp. He felt the ring, felt it power for just mere seconds and then he realized how evil it was, how it had corrupted him, and he wept in sorrow. He laid helplessly as a babe in the leaves, feeling the pity overwhelm him until the last of it was gone. He would just tell his father it was not a mission he could fulfill. Gathering himself he walked toward the spot where he had left the others, but when he arrived he found no one.
Sensing trouble Boromir ran back up the hill and spotted the hobbits Pippin and Merry on the bridge, their only means of escape cut off by a barage of orcs. Boromir had grown very fond of these small people, their stamina and strength surprising him. He would not let these minions of Sauron take them away to some festering hell. Drawing his sword he ran toward the fray of orcs, cleaving the first head he ran into.
Too many were these foes and Boromir knew this battle would not end well. Grabbing his horn he blew it hoping Aragorn and the others would get there in time. Pushing the two hobbits behind him Boromir fought on. He seemed to be getting the upper hand despite the many uruk hai when an arrow came whizzing past and struck him in the chest. The impact was so painful Boromir had to catch himself. Standing back up he stabbed the next uruk hai that came near him. He saw the horror on the hobbits' faces but had no time to console them or help them. He could only hope they would run for safety far away from where the were now, but they seemed frozen. Boromir was about to call out to them when another arrow pierced his chest. It was all Boromir could do to stay on his feet at this point, and though he fought on bravely his mind drifted back to his father and brother. Would his father understand his failure? Would his brother survive without him?
Boromir could not breathe, he could not hold out much longer, but his need to protect the hobbits was greater than even he knew. This was reinforced as the third arrow hit him and he fell to his knees. Somewhere he could hear the hobbits call out to him in anguish, but he could not turn. Another uruk hai had raised it's vile weapon to take his head, but Boromir bit back the pain and swung his sword taking the cruel life. He could hear the screams from the two hobbits and when he looked up he could see why.
A very large uruk hai unlike any of the horrible things he had faced yet was advancing on him. Boromir had no time to yell for help, no time to wish for what might have been. This would be his end he knew this, but he held his head high, he was not going down like a coward. He sat as the creature advanced on him and waited for the blow but it never came. Instead Aragorn lashed out at it, but it was for not, for as Boromir fell back his energy spent he saw the two hobbits being carried away. He did not see the battle that took place, his mind was lost in thought. He hoped Faramir could quell his father's wrath, and that his father would see what a good man he had grown to be. He could no longer hide Faramir from the ugliness of the world, and this was to be his end. He had only wished his father and brother would work out their differences. Seeing a face come into his view he knew it to be Aragorn. Long had he scorned his title, his name, and yet here was this man fighting to save him, and all of Middle Earth. How blind could he have been? How wrong his judgement? He spoke to Aragorn telling him of his allegiance in the end, his wishes that he could now not fulfill. With one last grab for his sword Boromir drew his last breath and ran to the waiting arms of his mother.