Morgan had fallen to pieces when Boromir had walked out. His return was met with a cascade of tears, and her fist beating his chest for him leaving her. Boromir felt true contrition, as did Morgan, and they forgave each other and moved on.
Boromir did not propose to Morgan until the following morning. They had again shared a bed (to sleep), and upon her waking, saw a tiny box upon the pillow. More tears, and a resounding 'YES!' pronounced them betrothed. It is not known if Morgan and Boromir waited until their wedding night to consummate their love for one another. Morgan wouldn't tell me, and Boromir appeared mortified upon my asking.
Seven months passed in which Morgan and Boromir planned their November wedding. It was a small affair with friends and family present, and a local minister performing the ceremony. Lakeesha was Morgan's bridesmaid. Wyatt had been deeply touched by Boromir's asking him to stand up with him on that day, and perform the duties his brother would have performed. Morgan had asked Carl to walk her down the aisle, and he graciously accepted, but did so with tear-filled eyes.
Boromir thought of Faramir a great deal that happy day, and for many years afterward, wondering what fortunes and trials arose in his life. Long did he sit with Morgan on Sunday afternoons, contemplating dear Faramir's whereabouts, and whether he had married and become a father.
Moglie's death had been a sad loss, but in the summer nearing their first wedding anniversary, they were blessed with a scraggily stray whom they affectionately named Bill. Morgan had wondered at the name, but Boromir replied that he had once known a pony by that name, and it seemed to suit. Bill fattened up, and learned to trust and love, but was forever terrified of the dictatorial Penny.
It was in the following winter that tragedy struck. Boromir had been working on the farm when Carl had suffered a massive heart attack, and despite his frantic efforts, Carl had passed on. Boromir had been at his side when his dear friend died, and wept openly at so immense a loss. It was not until after the funeral that Morgan and Boromir discovered how greatly Carl had held them in his heart. He had left them the farm, horses, and all his land. Long did they discuss what to do with it all, but in the end, it was decided to sell Morgan's small house, and move into Carl's larger century home. The barns were repainted crimson red that spring, with bold white letters stating: WEBBER & SON FARM, for Boromir truly felt like Carl's son.
It was at this time that Morgan discovered that she was pregnant. Boromir felt joy and mirth beyond all expectations at the thought of becoming a father. Their daughter arrived in the early morning hours on the third of January. It had been Boromir's wish to name her after his beloved mother, and so their daughter was proudly named: Isabella Finduilas Húrin.
A month after Boromir had broken Davis's nose, a malpractice lawsuit arose, suing Dr. Davis for the wrongful death of a patient. The plaintiff won the case, and Davis had his license revoked. He fled to Mexico to practice medicine illegally, and it was there, after a long night of tequila binging, that he contracted a scorching case of herpes. He never returned to Maine.
Morgan and Boromir went on to have two more children, and call the farm their home. They continued to breed racehorses, and after several years, became known as the best breeders in the state. They are still known as such today.
A/N: You made it this far, and not reviewed once, am I right? So now here's your chance to let me know if my time was well spent, and if you enjoyed my little story. Please be kind and review!!
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.