1. February 26th
Boromir drifted in the shadows between sleeping and waking, aware of both worlds and part of neither. His dark dreams were of fighting, desperation... then... someone calling his name...
"Boromir..."
That distant, beseeching voice had faded... but another called him now.
He sat up, looked around, still only half awake, his thoughts muddled as if surfacing from a deep sleep. Tall trees and a greensward stretched away from him down to a wide river beyond a narrow shingled shore, but he was alone in the woods. Why, yes... he was travelling to Rivendell... He must have camped... but where on Arda had he stowed his gear?
He felt the thudding vibrations through the ground beneath him and looked up; a rider, golden in the shafts of sunlight, galloped recklessly between the trees towards him.
"Boromir!"
Bright armour and a wild tangle of shining hair... Was it? Could it be...?
Théodred threw himself from the saddle before his mount had come to a halt. He ran to the seated man, dropped to his knees and threw his arms around him, laughing almost to tears as he hugged the Gondorian lord.
"I found you!"
Boromir blinked, still disoriented, "Was I lost?"
"I thought I had lost you!" Théodred clasped his shoulders, laughing out loud, before he stood, stepped back and offered Boromir his hand.
"...But my horse knew the way. Come."
As the Marshal pulled him to his feet, white-hot pains shot through Boromir's chest making him gasp and double over. Théodred supported him, holding him firmly in both arms.
"It will pass," he murmured.
Boromir leaned gratefully against him.
"I was on my way to the North, but I must have slept. I dreamt... I dreamt I found the sword that was broken, and the king, the returning king... We set out in a company, and then there was fighting..."
Boromir drifted into confused silence. The other man held him, brushing away the dark stains from Boromir's chest with one gentle hand.
"I know, love, I know..."
Boromir stared, everything around them, the grass, the sky, it was all so bright, so clear... too bright, too... He froze.
"Theo – am I? Are we...?"
Théodred nodded slowly, "But now we shall be together - always!"
He gently guided Boromir's steps to the fine grey horse that waited patiently.
"We still have other journeys ahead, and we shall make them side by side!"
He vaulted lightly into the gilded leather saddle and extended a welcoming hand. Boromir grasped his wrist, smiling as understanding dawned, and swung up behind him. The horse nickered, eager to be off, then turned its head instinctively to the West and walked on, soon breaking into a smooth trot over the springy emerald turf. Through the trees barred with bright, spring sunlight, their voices drifted back to the sleeping glade of this other Parth Galen.
"We're going to have to find another horse, you know."
"Why? I thought this felt quite snug!"
"You always were a whore at heart..."
"Me...?"
...And they were gone.
"Boromir..."
That distant, beseeching voice had faded... but another called him now.
He sat up, looked around, still only half awake, his thoughts muddled as if surfacing from a deep sleep. Tall trees and a greensward stretched away from him down to a wide river beyond a narrow shingled shore, but he was alone in the woods. Why, yes... he was travelling to Rivendell... He must have camped... but where on Arda had he stowed his gear?
He felt the thudding vibrations through the ground beneath him and looked up; a rider, golden in the shafts of sunlight, galloped recklessly between the trees towards him.
"Boromir!"
Bright armour and a wild tangle of shining hair... Was it? Could it be...?
Théodred threw himself from the saddle before his mount had come to a halt. He ran to the seated man, dropped to his knees and threw his arms around him, laughing almost to tears as he hugged the Gondorian lord.
"I found you!"
Boromir blinked, still disoriented, "Was I lost?"
"I thought I had lost you!" Théodred clasped his shoulders, laughing out loud, before he stood, stepped back and offered Boromir his hand.
"...But my horse knew the way. Come."
As the Marshal pulled him to his feet, white-hot pains shot through Boromir's chest making him gasp and double over. Théodred supported him, holding him firmly in both arms.
"It will pass," he murmured.
Boromir leaned gratefully against him.
"I was on my way to the North, but I must have slept. I dreamt... I dreamt I found the sword that was broken, and the king, the returning king... We set out in a company, and then there was fighting..."
Boromir drifted into confused silence. The other man held him, brushing away the dark stains from Boromir's chest with one gentle hand.
"I know, love, I know..."
Boromir stared, everything around them, the grass, the sky, it was all so bright, so clear... too bright, too... He froze.
"Theo – am I? Are we...?"
Théodred nodded slowly, "But now we shall be together - always!"
He gently guided Boromir's steps to the fine grey horse that waited patiently.
"We still have other journeys ahead, and we shall make them side by side!"
He vaulted lightly into the gilded leather saddle and extended a welcoming hand. Boromir grasped his wrist, smiling as understanding dawned, and swung up behind him. The horse nickered, eager to be off, then turned its head instinctively to the West and walked on, soon breaking into a smooth trot over the springy emerald turf. Through the trees barred with bright, spring sunlight, their voices drifted back to the sleeping glade of this other Parth Galen.
"We're going to have to find another horse, you know."
"Why? I thought this felt quite snug!"
"You always were a whore at heart..."
"Me...?"
...And they were gone.
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.
