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Adraefan: 41. Chorus VIII (Varda Comes to Boromir in a Dream)

Whimpering panic
a need swelling, perverse and complete
burrowing deep in the heart
twisting, clenching tight in the stomach,
only to vomit out
a drink, a drink, just one more
something to help the day pass
soothe the nights silent, please
(ai, me, Valar, do you listen?)
everywhere the thick terror dripping
down the walls and lingering in the corners
like a black jagged fog…

A dream passes
melts into another and convinces
slips past the teeth and crawls
down the throat and into the wounds
- that scream -
remember that wound and remember
all the panic burning through the mind –

Just one more, just one more
drink
something to ease the tremor
bring steadiness again
bring relief, please, Eru,
liquid relief passing through the veins
ai, Eru, ai, ai, ai, ai,
Eru, please, please,
one will be enough, just one…

Clouds. Wind. Sky.

Drift up
away from Elrond’s house
let us consider the Valar in all this,
seeing as They are primarily responsible:

Manwë.

Varda.

Husband and Wife
look at each other
communicate with a thought,
pass the message along
down the line of waiting Fourteen
down to Weeping Nienna, Dreaming Irmo,
Salt-Water Ulmo, Mandos-Keep Námo etc
until,

“Poor mortal.”

“Terrifying.”

“Shall I, or shall you?”

“It would be Estë the Gentle’s role. She is the Healer.”

Exasperated Estë: “Ah, but I have an entire Middle-earth to comfort!”

Varda: “Very well, very well. I will go.”

At night, when the stars blink bright, clean and very far away
when insects buzz and Men snore and elves stare unseeing
when everyone is asleep
Varda comes, She tiptoes around the House of Elrond
padding down abandoned hallways, all dark
the marble cool against Her soles
She walks invisible-stealth into the room
the room of Her preferred Man,
Boromir.

She enters, dripping stars, a supernova, a galaxy,
leaning close, leaning over the crumpled sheets
and gently gently placing Her hand, starry cold,
against his over-warm cheek,
She lays two kisses
one, two
against each heavy-hooded, closed eye
breathing in the smell of his mortality
the vivid scent of something finite
bright and short-lived
She breathes in
smells
and then rests Her lips against his
just as he sleeps
he dreams quiet now, all peaceful, so quiet
and She feels his warm, cracked lips –
such a dazzling smile when he has the chance! –
and She hesitates
(because husband-Manwë might be watching)
but whispers soft in good-bad, divine-beloved Boromir’s ear,
the Valar’s plaything,
She whispers in his ear, so only he can hear:

“Seek you relief in a drink
or hope in a hand held out from dusty battle-clouds?
You know it does not work, my mortal love.
You are being foolish,
and we have not pumped hearty Númenórean-red
through your veins to see you dribble
it all away and dilute it with some mead.

Listen, my to-die love, listen close:
For your fame has reached the heavens,
stunned Us
such a Brave-Tall-Warrior, beaming bright sword in hand,
cutting down the Enemy and taunting Evil
with your reckless bravery, right up to the Black Gate
it has intrigued Us
good-bad prince, with some Valar cheering you on
others straining to destroy you…
all this failed Ring-temptation and repenting,
suffice it to say you have piqued Our interest.”

She smiles, and some of Boromir’s suffering is relieved.
Again, She speaks:

“Ah, my sweet mortal Man,
all rugged and ragged and ruined and scarred
long have I favored you, loved you as a babe,
the stars smile at you, wash you in perfect white-light,
and I will reward you after your toil,
(yes, a handsome reward,
enviable)
with a wife and son,
love so absolute, complete, all-consuming,
that it will wring envy from the heavens. I swear.

You will have peace, fine joy,
pearly white smiles and searing passion,
love
yes, I promise, love
and you will die a happy Man
old, wise, white-haired,
beloved by his son and grandson’s son
a peaceful death after a long-hard life, like sleeping –

But…

You must stay the course, Boromir!
Abandon the fears, the die-hard wounds
simmering torment of the Dark One
abandon the drink, the nightmares, the panic
fight free of this ghost-grasp, loosen
your heart, your mind, your shaking hands,
climb up over it
scaling high up
and there will be your reward:
a sweet and easy life,

as I, Varda, Elbereth, Queen of the Valar, Who-Scattered-the-Stars-in-the-Sky,

hereby Proclaim.”

And so She pulled herself away from his cheek,
laid another gentle, warm kiss against his scarred lips
so that he returned it, even in dreaming-exhaustion sleep
and let his own hot breath linger in Hers, so cold,
pulled himself up, seeking Her in the dark
as She drifted away
back to the Home of the Valar
while he sank down into his pillow
snoring.


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In Playlists

Playlist Overview

Last Update: 15 Apr 05
Stories: 8
Type: Workshop/Group List
Created By: Boromir's Alternate Histories


Need a Boromir!Lives fix? This is the place to be.

Why This Story?

A somewhat dark look at how Boromir's life might have been with one less arrow.

 

Story Information

Author: Aeneid

Status: Reviewed

Completion: Complete

Era: 3rd Age - Ring War

Genre: General

Rating: Adult

Last Updated: 10/20/05

Original Post: 08/10/04

Go to Adraefan overview

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