The Warrior and the Poet(Extended Edition)

A/N: The quote at the end of the chapter is taken from Shakespeare's Hamlet. I thought it appropriate to apply it to Boromir.


Part Five: The Sorrows of Amon Hen


Walls of shear granite rose from the Anduin, shutting out all but a slender ribbon of azure sky as the great river swept our leaf-like boats swiftly in its swirling current. The canyon twisted and turned so sharply that even Legolas was having trouble keeping the boat on a smooth course. Suddenly, the cliffs opened out and two great figures of stone rose up out of Anduin. Each had their left arm extended, the palms facing out as if in warning. Though crumbling, these silent wards of Númenor still wore the raiment of great power and majesty of their long vanished kingdom.

I pressed back against Legolas, overcome by the sight of the Argonath. I was frightened. Parth Galen and Amon Hen were but a days journey from here. I knew what would happen here. That’s what frightened me the most. In my world, the gruesome death that I would soon witness was nothing but a picture on a history book page.

As we passed the King Stones, I could hear the thunderous roar of great falls, the Rauros, in the distance. The river opened into a great mouth of water pouring swiftly over a steep cliff. To the west lay a green lawn and hills covered in near bare trees, some that bent to touch the silvery surface of the lake. To the east lay Amon Lhaw, it’s lush land sweeping up to the barren and forbidding peaks of Emyn Muil.

We beached upon the western shore and made camp. I watched Legolas uneasily as I helped Sam start the midday meal.

"We cross the lake at nightfall, hide the boats, and continue on foot." I heard Aragorn say as he dropped a pack full of lembas next to Sam and me. "We approach Mordor from the North."

"Oh, yes?!" Gimli grumbled, leaning against the head of his axe. "It’s just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil? An impassable labyrinth of razor sharp rocks! And after that, it gets even better! Festering, stinking marshlands as far as the eye can see!"

I had the oddest feeling that I was sitting front row center in the movie theater for my own private viewing of "Fellowship". The only problem was that I was really living it. And I was about to find out just how real when we went looking for Frodo.

Legolas turned wary eyes on Aragorn, a look that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. "We should leave now," he said quietly.

"No. Orcs patrol the eastern shore. We must wait for cover of darkness."

Legolas shook his head and starred back into the forest. "It’s not the eastern shore that worries me," he said, "A shadow and a threat has been growing in my mind. Something draws near . . . I can feel it!"

"Where’s Frodo?" Merry asked alarmed as he returned with an arm load of firewood.

Aragorn and Legolas both scanned the camp. Boromir’s shield lay on his bedroll. I already knew that Frodo had left and Boromir not long after. If I interfered, I might change the course of history, for the worse. These events had to happen for my world to even exist.

"Split up into pairs and find them! Ithilin, here, take this." Aragorn handed me a long curved dagger.

"Um, thanks? But, Aragorn . . ." My protest dies on my lips as I realized that he no longer stood before me.

What had I just gotten myself into? I couldn’t stay here, but I didn’t want to go into those woods. Stupidity! I reprimanded myself. Just because I can’t meddle, doesn’t mean I can’t try to help. I swallowed my fear and trudged up the hill after Gimli. I was just about to get a crash course in sword fighting and hope that I didn’t get killed.

Just as I mounted the ridge, I heard a shout and horrible braying war cries somewhere in the distance. I looked about quickly. None of my companions were anywhere to be seen, though I thought I had been right behind them. Dark fear slid its icy fingers up my spine making me shiver with dread and rooting me where I stood. I was alone with only a knife for protection and I didn’t really even know how to use it. While I was grateful that I was not being treated like most women would be in this age, with the exception of ellyth, the closest I had ever been to the hilt of a sword was the distance between my seat in the movie theater and the screen.

The low call of a horn split the stillness and startled me out of my near panicked state. Boromir! I broke into a run, heading toward the sound. Though I didn’t know what I would do once I got there, I was going to do my best what ever it was.

As I topped the next hill, I saw him, his sword flashing brightly in the sunlight as he cut down one fell creature after another. Dead Uruks littered the vale floor like so many autumn leaves. Suddenly somewhere to my right, I heard the familiar creak of a bow being drawn. My mind reeled at the reality before me. He was going to die! I swallowed hard and sped down the slope, crashing into him as the black feathered arrow whistled past slicing through the air just inches from my head.

"Ithilin, get out of here!" he cried as I rolled into a viny, thorn bush that tangled itself about my arms and legs, trapping me in its prickly embrace. "Merry, Pippin, run!"

"NO!" I screamed as another arrow sang past and lodged itself in his chest with a dull wet thunk. "Boromir!"

I starred in horror, watching him battle these gorilla like creatures single handedly. He needed help. Adrenaline overruled any sane thought I might have had. I struggled furiously to regain my feet as the force of two more arrows dropped him to his knees. I had to get to him, help him somehow, regardless of the mortal danger I was putting myself in, but the bush I was tangled in held me impotent.

The dark archer walked slowly, menacingly, up to him, paying no heed me and my screams of helpless rage. His menacing companions trampled past, scooping up the little hobbits as they stomped by and carrying them off into the surrounding forest.

Boromir, now defenseless, starred defiantly up at his executioner, gasping for air. The creature nocked another large arrow and drew the bow taut, aiming for Boromir’s heart. Just as the arrow was loosed, a lean figure collided with the archer, causing the black fletched shaft to fly harmlessly into the forest.

"Aragorn!" I yelled.

Swords clanged and ground together with the shriek of steel against steel. The Uruk knocked Aragorn back against a tree near me. Stunned, his sword dropped from his hand and he fell to the ground.

"No!" I screamed as the creature’s shield sailed toward the ranger as he stood, pinning him to the tree by the neck.

The creature advanced, raising his blade to strike the helpless human but Aragorn slipped beneath avoiding the blow.

"Here!" I tossed him the dagger he had given me earlier.

He embedded the blade in the Uruk’s thigh and was thrown to the ground as the creature roared with rage. He rolled away unharmed.

Finally able to untangle myself from the thorn bush, I crawled slowly and painfully to where Boromir lay. He was pale and his eyes were darkening in death.

"Boromir?" I reached a shaking hand out to touch him.

"Ithilin?" he whispered weakly, giving me a wan smile. Blood was seeping out of the corners of his mouth. "Why did you not run?"

I took his head in my lap and cradled him against my breast. "I could not leave you to die alone."

"’Forgive me, Ithilin." he coughed. "I have not treated you with the respect you deserve. You have shown me that women are not always what they appear to be. Forgive me my weakness. Forgive what I tried to take from you by force."

"You are an honorable man. Your actions were not your own. I’m, too, sorry for my own behavior."

"Kiss me."

I nodded, hot tears streaking unchecked down my cheeks. I touched my lips to his, gently brushing his sweat damp hair away from his face. His hand touched my wet cheek.

"These tears are for me?"

"Yes."

"Please remember me."

"All my life." I bent and kissed him again. I tasted the salty sweet of his sweat mingled with my tears and the ferric quality of his blood on my lips as I trailed my soft kisses over his filthy face. "If I have another child, Boromir, I will give him the name you bear. The name of a proud and honorable warrior who gave of himself to protect those who were defenseless."

He smiled, his eyes brightening. "You do not have to do this."

I nodded emphatically, "It is my penance for my arrogance."

"They took the little ones, Aragorn." He glanced away as the ranger approached. "Where is Frodo?"

"I let Frodo go," the ranger answered, kneeling down beside us.

"I tried to take the Ring from him." Boromir was fading fast. I could feel his life slipping away even as he spoke. "Forgive me, I did not see. I failed."

"No" Aragorn and I said simultaneously.

"Boromir, you fought bravely! You kept your honor." Aragorn reassured him as he reached out to remove the arrows that pierced Boromir’s body.

"Leave it! Already my eyes darken and the world falls to shadow. Do not let the White City fall, Aragorn. The world of Men must not fail."

"I do not know what strength is in my blood, my friend, but I swear to you I will not let Minas Tirith fall to darkness or men fail."

Boromir’s body shuddered in my arms as he reached out for his sword that had fallen a just out of his reach. Aragorn grabbed it and placed the hilt in his hand. Boromir grimaced as he pulled the blade to his chest, his breath coming now in short, labored gasps.

"I would have followed you, my brother . . . my captain . . . my king!"

Suddenly his eyes lit up and a smile brightened his face as if he was gazing upon a fair country full of light and song. I felt him exhale one last time, then he fell limp in my arms. I looked down at his face in wonderment. In his eyes, the light still lingered. What did he see in that last moment?

"Be at peace, son of Gondor." Aragorn whispered, his voice full of grief as he closed Boromir’s lifeless eyes and kissed his brow.

My heart contracted in my chest. He was gone. I had never had anyone die in my arms before. I was overwhelmed by grief yet I felt utterly numb. I glanced up at Aragorn, searching for understanding. What I found there confused me. While there was grief, there was also an acceptance of death that I had never seen in anyone’s eyes before. He would mourn but he knew that this was an inevitable part of existence. Suddenly, I understood what my world seemed to have forgotten. Death was a part of life and while it was an end, it was also a beginning. An endless circle that kept on turning.

"You’re hurt." I said tightly as I took in the sight of his bloody nose, split lip, and the oozing cut on his upper arm.

Maternal instinct overrode the grief as I reached for the hem of my cloak and ripped a strip of cloth from it. Gently, I dabbed the sticky blood from his nose and mouth, then wrapped the wound on his bicep. I felt him lay his hand on my shoulder and I looked up from my self appointed task.

"You have changed, Ithilin." he said gently. "So had he. I think you two could have been great friends if you had been given the chance."

"Things are very different now and I’m beginning to wonder who I really am."
Aragorn smiled sadly. "I think there are a lot more changes ahead, not just for you, for all of us."

"I’ve never seen a death like this." The shock of the events was creeping up on me. My hands were beginning to tremble noticeably. Soon I would shaking all over.

"You gave him great comfort by being here, Ithilin. Take no shame in your grief, for we all share it."

"We?" I asked in a quavering voice, not realizing Legolas and Gimli had just run into the clearing.

"What you have done, meleth," whispered a soft tenor behind me, "required far greater courage than any here, because you are an inexperienced fighter. You threw caution to the wind and tried to prevent his death."

Legolas knelt beside me and wiped Boromir’s blood and dirt from my face with the hem of his cloak and my silent tears. He gathered me to him as much as Boromir’s dead weight would allow and pressed my head to his chest, tenderly stroking my hair.

I could smell sweat and the stench of orc blood on him but the strong scent of rain that I had come to associate with him comforted me somewhat. Gradually, I stopped shaking and my mind began to work again.

"We must see to him, that he does not lie like carrion for the wolves to feast upon."

My companions nodded in agreement and set about making a rough bier to carry him on, while I made him presentable for burial. The thick arrow shafts were too hard for me to break, forcing me to have to pull them out. By the time I finished, my vision was blurred by tears and I was beginning to tremble again.

"Here, lass." Gimli said, offering me his hand to help me to my feet. "Lean on me if you need to."

"I thank you, Master Gimli." I said as I gripped his stubby hand and rose.

My grief finally found a voice as we bore his body back to the lake shore and I lifted it in lament.

"Let us give him to Anduin and let her bear his body past hamlet and city.
Let him be honored as a great warrior by peasant and king.
Let all bards sing of his great deeds in life
and all women mourn his passing with heavy heart.

"Hear, all ye who tread upon the now hallowed shores of Amon Hen.
Hear my cry! Behold my tears!
Darkness has dealt a heavy blow the world of Men
and filled my heart with bitter tears.

"No more will the Horn of Boromir be heard in the cities of Gondor.
But his memory will not be lost to time, his sacrifice not forgotten by the ages. His deeds will live on past the ending of this world
and all will speak his name with reverence and awe."


As we laid him in one of the boats, we arranged the weapons of his vanquished foes at his feet and laid his still bloodied sword in his hands.

"’Goodnight, sweet prince. May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.’" I said as I kissed him one last time. He looked as though he was only asleep except for the waxy texture to his flesh and the pallor of death on his face. "I will hold to my promise, son of Gondor. Whether it be in your world or in mine, I will keep it."

With that, we pushed the craft into the current and watched sorrowfully as the Great River of Gondor claimed the body of her fallen son.