Boromir had a restless night. Luckily though he didn't toss and turn and therefore he didn't wake Merry and Pippin, who were using him as a pillow. He couldn't shake the thoughts that Pippin's statement about him had provoked. Maybe he was great at dragging others down with him, although he never meant to. . .
He knew that if he continued this friendship he was developing with Merry and Pippin it was going to end in disaster for them, yet he couldn't see a way to stop the friendship from growing. The two craved comfort off him and to reject them that what they needed on a mission like this would also be a disaster. . . he didn't seem to have anyway out. . . not without hurting Merry and Pippin.
But by hurting them now, he could save them later. But how to make them understand? He'd told them too much as it was, and he prayed desperately that they wouldn't repeat any of what he'd told them, especially not to some of the other members of the fellowship. He didn't think they would, but he didn't exactly know them that well either. He hoped they wouldn't betray his trust, because once his trust was given it was total, but once it was shattered he had no idea of how to fix it again.
He had found no rest during the night and although the day had now broke, it would still be some hours before the rest of the Fellowship began to wake, they had all had a trying day yesterday.
Everyday Boromir felt the bonds he shared with them becoming tighter, and closer. They were looking out for him, as he was looking out for them, and he couldn't stop them, even if he wanted to. Which he had to admit he did not, although he knew how dangerous this situation was. What was he doing here? He was making an already dangerous situation worse!
He sighed and shifted slightly, before instantly stilling himself. He was grateful that his movements had not woken Merry and Pippin. They were really too young to be on this quest in Boromir's opinion, but in a way he was glad that they were. They had become his friends, and had proven themselves undyingly loyal to Frodo. They also offered some comfort to him, although he suspected that they did not know it. They just saw him as someone who they could trust to look after them, and who would put up with him, he guessed. But they were a lot more than that. A lot more, and he would protect them at all costs.
Looking across to the horizon, Boromir saw the faint pink of the rising sun, but near the walls of Moria, the shadows were long, and no light penetrated. He didn't relish the idea of going into Moria, with its dank gloom and darkness. He wasn't afraid of the dark though. He and Faramir had learnt to be scared of more real things, things that could hurt them, things like their Father, his rule and his guards. Those were things that could really hurt him, whereas darkness could not. Well, darkness itself could not, but darkness from within people could. He and Faramir had had a game when they were younger, were they guessed what colour people were. Faramir had decided early on that he and Boromir where silver, representing angels and purity and light. Also within that silver was a dark midnight blue, not just because the colours complimented each other, but also because the brothers were strong.
They had decided together that their Father was black, black for the darkness within him, which caused him to do dark things. Also their Father was red, red for anger, the anger, which made him do dark things.
Looking around now, he tried to decide what colour his fellow companions were. He decided that all of the hobbits had some pink in them, pink for innocence. Merry and Pippin, he decided, also had a lot of yellow in them, yellow for happiness. They had certainly brought him a lot of happiness. He decided that they also had a lot of white in them, for loyalty. He decided that that description also fit Sam quite well, but Frodo he wasn't quite sure about. Sam, Merry and Pippin also had a lot of courage that they didn't know they had, Boromir could see that, but what colour could represent that. For the courage was there, just hovering in the background like the orange in the sky, when the sun shed it's last few rays of light, letting them hover above the ground for a while, in the background, before it sunk beneath the horizon. Yes, Sam, Merry and Pippin had orange in them as well. All the hobbits had green in them as well, for their connection to the land around them.
Frodo, he was a slight puzzle as to what colours represented him. He had the pink, yellow, green and white of the other hobbits, and also the orange as well, as he had extra courage that he didn't know about, as well as the visible courage that everybody could see. So, what colour for that visible courage, a strong, royal colour, Boromir thought, like purple. Yes, that was Frodo, pink, yellow, white, orange, green and purple.
Next he turned his attention to Gandalf. He was easy. Simply silver and white, pure and loyal. As well as gold for strength. Boromir's eyes flicked over to where the wizard lay, he had always, well for as long as Boromir could remember, been more of a Father figure to him and Faramir than Denethor had been. Boromir knew that before his mother had died things had been different, that his father had cared for him and his brother. Those memories had long since been forgotten in the maze of his mind though and all the horrible things that he was keeping secret from everyone else had took up accommodation at the front. Gandalf had known for some time that Denethor was not a good father to Faramir and Boromir, but he did not know that Denethor was an abusive and threatening father to his two sons, who to everyone else in Minas Tirith were two bright lights in the shadow that was hanging over them from neighbouring Mordor. They inspired hope in the people of Minas Tirith with their loyalty to Gondor and their fierce protectiveness of each other. To the people, Boromir and Faramir, sons of Denethor were the best things that had come out of the Stewards in generations. The people of Gondor were looking forward to Boromir ruling, knowing that he would rule with his brother and Boromir was not sure how they would react to Aragorn reclaiming the throne as the rightful heir. To many, Boromir and Faramir were the rightful heirs, ready to rule Gondor and lead her once more to greatness. For people knew that this was what the two steward's sons wanted to do, they had often talked of doing this with soldiers, and word travelled quickly among the citizen's from the soldiers. Denethor knew that his people held more faith and trust in his sons rather than him, and he knew that his people followed them rather than him. This was a fact that he did not like, that he did not like at all. In public, however, he appeared to favour Boromir, shunning Faramir as weak. Denethor realised that he still might, with hard work and threats, be able to get Boromir to follow in his footsteps. Boromir knew that this was what his Father was planning and had already spoken to Faramir about it. Boromir was not going to follow in his Father's footsteps, no matter what happened. What seemed like a long time ago to Boromir, he and Faramir had drawn up a contract stating that when and if Boromir became Steward over the lands of Gondor, he would share the power with Faramir, and in return, Faramir would share the duties, such as the paperwork, of being Steward. They had signed it, dated it and had got one of their few friends to witness it. It was official.
A slight noise snapped Boromir out of his musings and he noticed that Gandalf was up and about. Boromir hadn't really spoken to Gandalf, his only father figure, since the quest had begun, reasoning with himself that Gandalf had more important things to do than to talk to him. Judging from the position of the sun, he had been away with his thoughts for some while. The shadows of Moria however, were still long and deep.
Feeling someone's eyes on him, Boromir found Gandalf studying him intently. "Have I done something to offend you, Boromir?" the old wizard asked gently.
"No! Why do you ask such a question?" Boromir asked, shocked and visibly showing that he was so.
"For you have barely spoken a word to me out of your own free will since we set out from Rivendell. Where is the Boromir who I know from the archives and library in Minas Tirith? The one who is hardly ever separated from his younger brother, and is always looking for more information?" Gandalf asked, taking Boromir back into the past, to the times that he and Faramir begged Gandalf to give them extra lessons without their Father knowing, especially in Philosophy, something Denethor did not approve of his sons studying.
Boromir graced Gandalf with a shy smile. "I kind of figured that you'd be too busy to talk with me," he admitted sheepishly.
"And who else am I to have a good debate with?!" Gandalf demanded mock sternly, causing Boromir to actually laugh.
"Well, you have Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli to debate with now, and I'm not exactly a child anymore," Boromir told the wizard, remembering times when he was a child and he had debated with the wizard, with Faramir's help and had always questioned everything that the wizard said, so he got more information and explanation. He and Faramir had learnt more from Gandalf than they ever had from their Father.
"Ah, but I miss debating with you," Gandalf told him. "In a debate it is generally a good idea to have someone who will argue points with you and will question what you agree with. Not just people who go along with what you say!"
"Very well, I will make sure we have a good debate sometime soon," Boromir told him. "If I can get away from these two long enough to actually sit down next to you!"
Gandalf smiled as Boromir managed to sit up and cross his legs without waking either Merry or Pippin, and he laid their heads in his lap.
Gandalf sighed. "They remind me a lot of you and Faramir when you were that age, apart from the fact that the two of you were always quieter, and studied a lot more. I take it you have not forgotten anything I taught you?"
"Of course not," Boromir answered, but his eyes were misty, showing that he was somewhere else, namely thinking about his Father's rule.
"What is it?" Gandalf asked, quite concerned.
"It is nothing of any importance," Boromir told him, looking out to the walls of Moria.
"Is that so?" Gandalf questioned. "If it is then look at me while you tell me."
Boromir turned his head. "It is nothing," he said, whilst holding Gandalf's gaze.
"That is not what you said before," Gandalf probed.
Boromir kept looking at Gandalf, although he did not meet the wizard's eyes. "It is nothing of any importance," he repeated, although he felt the soft flush across his face and knew that his cheeks had turned slightly pink. Gandalf could always tell when either he or Faramir were lying. Luckily for them both though, their Father never paid much attention and therefore could not tell when he sons were lying to him.
Unseen by both man and wizard, an elf lay quietly, having observed what had just happened and wondering what was going on. Maybe there was a lot more to Boromir son of Denethor than met the eye, mused Legolas.