I'm A Believer!

Adraefan

47. Final Chorus (Another Beginning)

Years later Thain Pippin, little minstrel-hobbit-lord, would always say, “Oh, aye, Boromir, I knew him well. Boromir the Brave we called him, or Boromir the Mad. Either way, a true friend.” Years later Meriadoc the Magnificent would blow smoke rings, and laugh, “Oh, aye, Boromir, I knew him well. Boromir the Fair we called him, or Boromir the Drunkard. Either way, a good Man.” Years later Dínendal, Returned Elf of Eryn Lasgalen, would shrug, and sigh, “Oh, aye, Boromir, I knew him well. Boromir the Bold we thought him, or Boromir the Exile. Either way, a noble spirit.” Years later Gimli, son of Glóin, Lord of the Glittering Caves, would snort and grunt, “Oh, aye, Boromir, I knew him well. Boromir the Tall they called him, or Boromir the Fool. Either way, a doughty warrior.” Years later, Aragorn, King Elessar Telcontar, would nod-sage, and whisper-wise, “Oh, aye, Boromir, I knew him well. Boromir the Strong we thought him, or Boromir the Changéd. Either way, a light to Gondor.” Years later Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, would sigh and murmur, “Oh, aye, Boromir, he was my brother. Many names they called him, e’er our argument, our honor, our embarrassment, e’er our leader, our fallen soldier. It matters not now, all that has passed.” And the suns rise and set burning away into the horizon flattening out, melting with it, red casting everything in gold from the green corners of the Shire to the White Towers of Gondor and deep into the scorching deserts of Harad all melting gold everywhere rising and setting suns days stretching thin into long weeks months years the mortals age… Boromir… Where did this all wisp away, Valar-Gods? You left us hanging on a hinge the story’s fabric suddenly unraveled into a single thread that we hold onto now. Well? Back home, hard-drinking hopeless, living like a Begging Prince? Or away, disguised, adventure drifting blown away by winds and whims so that, eventually, Minas Tirith resigns its good-bad son, its former hero, its fast-becoming-legend to some unknown fate? (Ah, if e’er there was a Man born for pain, it was he!) Well? Valar, it all depends on You, the Mighty Fourteen which way You shrug and cast the Omnipresent Gaze to shift away from This onto That making Boromir’s heart swell with such emotion, such searing burns of love of hate, of violence and stagnating torture of peace and the glittering wide joys of this and that the tragicomic the INCONCEIVABLY MORTAL – Well? Well? Well? Back home or cast adrift? “Ah…” Manwë smiles sly. “That is another story entirely.”
The End

This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.

In Challenges

Story Information

Author: Aeneid

Status: Reviewed

Completion: Complete

Rating: Adult

Last Updated: 10/20/05

Original Post: 08/10/04

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