My Brother
Boromir. The sound of his name when it is spoken carries more than I could ever tell you.
When he walks through the streets of Minas Tirith stories are told of his valour and courage in battle, and awe fills the voices of those who speak. The men's spirits are lifted when he roars for Gondor's victory, and the soldier's voices lift to chant his name. His father's eyes and voice are laced with pride when he is welcomed home after victory, and a feast is prepared for his return. They hail him as the Kings of old, as the one man who would deliver them from the darkness and pain.
I have known him as a warrior. I have known him as a friend, and as a rival. I have known him as a leader. He was all of these things and more. Yet I shall never forget the man he was:
My brother.His