Boromir fascinated Merry. He was only the second man Merry had ever known, really, and so Merry couldn't say at first if his fascination was with the new race being introduced to him, or for Boromir in particular.
He wasn't so fascinated by Aragorn, and maybe that was one sign. Frodo was fascinated enough for any five hobbits, though, so it seemed fair. In fact, Frodo's fascination led to Merry's own - Frodo and through him Sam spent so much time with the solemn, grim Ranger that Merry and Pippin were left to their own devices often, with much time to talk to the newcomers and get to know them.
Gimli and Legolas, it seemed, were happy to fight with each other. Gandalf joined the solemn and history-laden talks Aragorn and Frodo had. Occasionally Legolas would go off to be an elf, wandering through trees and getting to know shrubs and things of that sort. But oftentimes it was just Merry, Pippin, and the man of Gondor.
Where Strider was grim, Boromir was stern but fair. Aragorn was lost in history, and Boromir was very much in the present. Aragorn spoke so often of elves and sung in their own tongue so often that he seemed as if he ought to be half-elf himself.
Boromir, on the other hand, was very much a man. He spoke of men, of his land and people, with pride and love. He spoke of their faults and their greatest deeds with equal devotion. He was very much a product of his land, which Merry understood. He had no doubt, after all, that he and his fellow hobbits were only so uncomplicated and unlearned because the Shire allowed them to be.
Boromir would tell them tales of the White City that made Merry's eyes glow in wonder. The towers, gleaming in the sunlight. The trumpets that always called him home. Seven levels, each containing wonders and oddments of their own, all fitting together into what Boromir thought as the perfect city.
He spoke of his family as well. His father, stern and cool and proud. Boromir admitted to them with a wry smile that he was very much his father's son. Yet his father had a special kind of blood in him - the line of the men of the north was strong in him. In that Boromir different. He was like to men of Gondor, not to Numenoreans. He was not that great.
Merry had replied that if he was an example of a man who was less than great, he'd hate to meet with any great ones. He'd be so awed he'd go stupid.
Boromir laughed at that.
Merry liked to make him laugh.
He went on, saying that though he had not inherited that old and wise blood of his father's, his brother had. His brother, Faramir. Boromir spoke of him often, sharing tales of them as children, learning together, sparring together. Growing apart in many ways and yet always close to each other in spirit and devotion.
"Faramir alone will tell me things no man dares say. He will tell me when I am being unreasonable, when I am stupid and stubborn. He alone will tell me, and he alone has opinions that I trust."
"He sounds like a great man himself," Merry said as Pippin snored beside him, lulled into sleep during this, one of the few breaks in their long and slow march.
"He is." Boromir sat proudly, casting his gaze towards the east. "He should have come on this journey, I think. He is better suited, but I would not have him go. Nor would father."
"Why not? Do you suppose it will be particularly dangerous?"
Boromir looked back at him with a smile. "Particularly? All paths are dangerous these dark days, my little friend. There are no particular paths more or less dangerous. But the path they seem intent to set you on eventually..." He trailed off and sighed.
Merry held him out another strip of the cured meat they had been snacking on.
Boromir took it with a nod. "Rest now."
Merry smiled and laid down near to the fire, beside his snoring cousin. He looked up again before he had chance to drift too far away, and for a moment he simply studied the man, sitting so stern in the darkness, but looking so warm in the fire's glow. "Someday I'd like to see it. Your city."
Boromir looked up, and after a moment he nodded. "You will, I think."
"Will you show me those things you talked about? The courtyard and the tree and everything?"
Boromir's smile faded, and he looked into the flames. "Should I return, it will be my honor, master halfling."
Merry smiled and laid down. And only moments before sleep claimed him he felt a shiver in his bones. 'Should I return..."