Boromir waved his sleeve across his brow as he sighed, his shoulders slumping with the energy necessary to power the canoe further upstream. He suspected he had a fever, judging by the sudden flashes of heat that burned him from the inside out, followed by periods of such icy chill that he would have begged for but a fire to warm himself beside. His chest ached, each breath a struggle as his wounds seem to weigh down his very lungs. As the heat of the afternoon sun bore down upon him, he found himself slipping between dreams and reality, though his arms never ceased to paddle onwards towards Lorien.

"Shhh, little brother, you must keep quiet."

"But Mother's gone, Boromir!"

"….I…I know, Faramir, but you must understand, Father's grief is great, as well."

"Is he angry with us?"

"Shhh, don't say such things, Faramir."

"But…but who's to take care of us now? Father's always too busy."

"I…I will take care of us, little brother. I swear it."

Boromir gave into his exhaustion then, weighed down by the grief of his memories as he slumped to the side and fell into the Anduin. As his strong body sank into the cool water, he smiled, for it was refreshing and cool to his tired limbs. He imagined Amera's slender arms wrapping around him as the river pulled him down, her gentle hands caressing his body as her lips brushed against his revealed skin. His heart had so greatly ached for her the past two days that he had been forced to shut her out of his mind completely, lest he give into his uncontrollable grief. And now, he closed his eyes in comfort, for she swirled around him with inhuman grace while her soft, cool lips stroked his skin as she held him.

But that was not his Amera, this soft, sensual creature that even now seduced him in his exhaustion. No, his was the Amera of the flashing, feral grin and dirtied face, the Dagorwen who had fought beside his ancestors and had kissed him with such utmost, breathtaking fierceness. He loved the Amera of fire and ice.

Boromir suddenly realized he was drowning and opened his eyes, thrashing wildly as the weight of his heavy robes and boots pulled him further and further away from the flickering light that danced above him. His chest burned as he struggled to propel himself to the surface, his arms aching with the effort as his lungs begged for oxygen. The current seemed faster than ever as he was pulled downstream, but he gasped for air as he burst forth to the surface.

Choking now, he dragged himself to the pebbled shore and vomited what water had sunk into his lungs with heaving shoulders. He collapsed in absolute exhaustion and turned his head to the side as he laid, seeing that his canoe had steered off course and had come to rest on the bank a hundred feet from his current location. Sighing with relief, he closed his eyes and began to steady his breath, but froze as he felt a strange absence of weight by his side.

He felt a sudden bolt of fear as his hand traveled to his hip and did not feel the Horn of Gondor beneath his hand. His eyes widened and he immediately rose, his eyes desperately scanning the shore as he searched for that which meant so much to both him and his heritage. Upon seeing no sign of it, he dove back into the water, slipping beneath the cool surface once again. Despite the pain that surged through him, he swam with reckless abandon for he could not lose something so precious. He searched and searched, his lungs burning as he raced towards the surface to gasp in breath before diving to the riverbed once more. As his vision grew blurry and limbs grew heavy, he knew he could no longer continue for he would soon pass out, and collapsed on the shore. He had lost an heirloom of Gondor, a proud icon of his lineage, and now, somewhere beneath the cool waters, it floated slowly towards an end he could not see.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Boromir slowly opened his eyes and blinked away the imagery of his dream as the wind stirred his auburn hair. The steady rhythm of the horse's steady pace had lulled him to sleep what appeared to be hours ago, as he narrowed his eyes and looked towards the afternoon sun. He had slumped against the ranger before him in his slumber and hoped he had not minded, but decided not to ask as he looked out over the plains before them.

He strained his memory to recall what he could of Rohan, though the result was embarrassingly sparse. He knew of the horse lords, as did any common child in Minas Tirith, and of Meduseld, the golden hall from which the Eorlingas ruled over their realm. However, any details beyond such obvious knowledge was lost to him, for Faramir had always been the one interested in such things, he recalled with a smile. Faramir had always been the favorite of the tutors their father had procured to instruct them, for he was studious and curious; a combination that pleased them to no end. He, on the other hand, had been bored with all but the history of Gondor and the study of military tactics, favoring to imagine his quill was a dagger instead of immersing himself in elven lore like his younger brother.

And there, on the horizon, was an enormous hill that stood proud against the flat plains that surrounded it. Narrowing his eyes, Boromir was able to make out small buildings dotting the hillside and paths that led to its crest, on which lay Meduseld. They quickly approached the city gates and their horses slowed to a trot. The city itself was protected by high walls of timber around the base of the hill and while he initially thought such defenses crude as compared to the stone levels of Minas Tirith, Boromir knew that such masonry was no doubt impossible for the men of the plains.

Two helmed guards protected the gate and he saw them clutch their spears tightly as the visitors approached, eyeing them warily. Gandalf maneuvered himself to the front and offered a polite smile as he inclined his head, "Greetings to you, friends."

"There are to be no visitors allowed inside the city." The guard intoned monotonously as he stepped before Shadowfax, cutting off access to the path ahead.

Gandalf seemed surprised by this development, furrowing his brows as he questioned, "Never before has Théoden King turned aside those who come beneath the banner of friendship."

The other guard rolled his eyes, snorting, "Well, things have changed then, haven't they?"

Gandalf's smile became stale then and Boromir felt his own ire rising at such blatant disrespect, but suddenly Amera urged her horse forward. He perked a brow as she smiled beautifully towards the two guards, shyly tilting her head as she softly pleaded, "Please, sirs, my friends and I are greatly tired by the journey and wish nothing more than to rest." She lowered her eyes but for a moment, then looked back gently beneath her dark lashes.

He then realized she was flirting, or at least doing her very best to, and he bit the inside of his lip to keep from bursting with laughter. "We would be ever so grateful to you both," Amera purred as a smile that hinted of seduction played across her lips, running a hand through her dark hair.

There was a pause and Boromir grinned, for surely her plan, as outrageously stupid as it had been, had worked upon the guards. However, his spirits fell as the first guard intoned once more, "By word of Grima Wormtongue, none shall pass through these gates." Amera's face immediately fell, anger briefly flaring in her eyes before returning to their placid blue as she looked decidedly sullen. Boromir reminded himself to make sure to bring up the incident later, already knowing what her reaction would be as he hid his smile.

"Grima Wormtongue?" Gandalf repeated, his eyes widening as Boromir detected disgust in his voice. The guards nodded and the wizard sighed while Aragorn urged their horse forward. Boromir watched as he lowered his head in respectful greeting and calmly stated, "If you should let us pass, for we are friends of your lord, I assure you, we will see to it that Théoden knows of the respect with which you treat your duty. "

The guards sighed and murmured to each other for a moment, closely watching the group assembled before them from the corners of their eyes before they turned. "You may continue onward," The first guard stated while the second finished, "But know the punishment for crime in the city is death. You have been warned."

Boromir was silent as they passed through the wooden gate, unnerved by the silence that greeted them as they traveled upon the dirt paths that scaled the hill before them. The only time Minas Tirith was silent was in the dead of night and even then the sound of the wind echoed through the marble courtyards and glistening gardens beneath the moonlight. As they continued onwards, bleak faced peasants turned to stare at them, their eyes blank as they looked them up and down. It was horrendously discomforting, he thought with a shiver, how emotionless the people of Rohan appeared to be, as grey and tired as the threadbare clothes upon their backs.

He then realized the strange affliction that seemed to plague all within the city was hopelessness and he shuddered, turning his head away for a moment as a small child stared up at him. The people of Rohan had grown complacent with the misery placed upon them, had grown too weary to fight back and in turn they no longer lived, but simply lingered amongst the thatch huts and drawn carts that composed their home. Even now, did his own people grow weary as the threat of Mordor loomed ever closer? As, his jaw set at the thought, even now his father grew weak beneath the enormity of the task placed upon him? Should he ever return to his beloved city, would the once bright eyes of his people be replaced by the cold, lifeless stares he received as they passed through the streets of Meduseld?

A strange noise interrupted his thoughts and he paused, straining to make it out as he placed a hand upon Aragorn's shoulder to slow the horse. Amera and Gandalf rested as well, looking around for the source of the noise. Boromir recognized it to be distant sobbing and without truly thinking, he dismounted and followed the noise with a determination he himself could not understand.

He heard Aragorn call for him, but he was always rushing down a uneven path as the sobs grew louder, his feet flying beneath him. He followed down a small hill and paused as he saw a crowd gathered before a gallows, focusing on the heaving shoulders of a frail woman as she wept. His heart grew heavy as he saw her clutch two small children to her waist, her weathered hands turning their faces away from the gallows as she too turned her head away.

Boromir tentatively stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as his gaze fell upon the emaciated prisoner who slowly walked up the wooden stairs towards his fate, guided by a tall, leering man who appeared to take great pleasure in his duties. The man who was to be executed trembled fiercely, though Boromir saw him set his jaw as he did his best to appear brave for his family as they watched helplessly. He watched the man close his eyes as the rope was tightened around his slender neck, his chest rising and falling swiftly as the sobs of his beloved reached his ears. The executioner grinned at this and all at Boromir felt a fury rise in him like never before, anger coursing through him as the prisoner attempted a small smile at his wife and prepared to die.

"What crime has this man commited?" Boromir blinked as he heard his own voice ring out through the courtyard, equally as surprised as those who turned to stare at him. He swallowed hard, setting forward and moving through the crowd as he repeated once more, his voice growing in power. "What crime is this man accused of?"

The leering executioner flashed a grin filled with rotted teeth, his shiny eyes flashing as he snarled, "He's a thief, that one."

Boromir clenched his fists by his side as he questioned further, unable to keep his revulsion from sinking into his words. "And what theft has he been found guilty of?"

The executioner leered in return and spittle flew from his lips, "Three loaves of bread last week."

There was that name once more, Boromir noted as his temper flared. He spat to the ground, his lip curling with disgust as he growled, "And how can such a simple theft warrant death?"

"If you've got a problem with due justice," The executioner snarled, clearly annoyed at this point, "I suggest you either take it up with Grima Wormtongue or shut up."

"This, this is what you call justice?" He roared in fury, striding forward through the crowd as his heart beat wildly in his chest, "That a man who does what he can to provide for his starving family is killed for his actions? That children will not know a father because of three loaves of bread?"

He felt Amera's hand on his shoulder then, trying to hold him back as she whispered in his ear, but he paid no attention as he approached the gallows and shrugged her off. The executioner narrowed his eyes, quickly growing nervous as the Captain General of Gondor approached him, hissing in reply, "Why don't you listen to your bitch and back off?"

It was Boromir, then, that had to hold back Amera as she rushed forward with her inhuman speed at the insult. She fought him briefly and he saw that deadly fire appear in her eyes as he too struggled to withhold from striking down the executioner where he stood. An idea came to him as he rested his hands against Amera's sides in an attempt to quell her fury, calling out, "I will repay this man's debt."

The executioner blinked, as well as the prisoner as Boromir took notice of him for the first time. As Amera turned to look at him in confusion, he let her go and let his hands slip to the belt around his waist. It was beautiful and golden, far too elegant for his liking, but he had worn it out of gratitude to Galadriel for she had bestowed it upon him beneath the fair leaves of her kingdom. Struggling briefly, he finally undid it and tossed it before the leering man's feet, watching as he picked it up with wide, greedy eyes.

"And there," He stated with disgust, his proud jaw set "Is your justice."

The executioner looked between Boromir and the prisoner, who was absolutely pale by this point for a moment. With a shrug, he wrapped the intricate belt around his skinny waist and cut the rope from the gallows before swiftly turning to leave. Boromir watched as the man fell to his knees, gasping in utter relief as he removed the noose from his neck and threw it to the side. His wife rushed forward with a sob, weeping openly as she wrapped her arms around him.

He then became aware of the eyes of the crowd as they were fixated him, watching silently as the joyous weeping of the spared rang out through the courtyard. Amera stood beside him and he wrapped a protective arm around her, though he truthfully knew she did not need it, as the faces staring back at him ranged from shock to fear to fury. "Thank…thank you." A soft voice whispered from behind him and he turned, locking his gaze with the wife as cradled her husband's head. "I know naught your name, stranger, nor the reason behind your kindness, but know that I am forever indebted to you."

He paused for a moment, struck by the woman's profound gratitude, then simply nodded. Unable to form words by now and still reeling from his actions, he brushed Amera's hand and turned to leave. The rest of the Fellowship watched him from the top of the hill, still atop their steeds and he lowered his head, but not before he saw the proud smile upon Gandalf's aged face. He began to walk towards them and recognized the lingering fury that still rushed within him, for what ruler would subject their citizens to a life such as this? Where their very lives were held in the hands of men who wished nothing more than to see pain and fear? His stomach tightened with disgust at the thought, for he was sickened by this pale, miserable place. His soul wept once more for the shining walls of Minas Tirith, to stand before the White Tree and bathe in the pure afternoon light as he looked out upon the fields of Pelennor.

"You are a good man, Boromir," Amera's soft voice whispered in his ear as he felt her delicate hand subtlety squeeze his as they returned to the rest of their company. "No matter what may come, do not lose sight of the courage that lies within you."

And he would not.