Tribute
As he entered the vault, the guards bowing their
heads respectfully before they continued their watch,
Aragorn felt a wound reopen, a wound that had never
fully healed, but had only been covered by the scab
of daily worries and tribulations heaped upon a newly
crowned King in dire need of healing a broken
kingdom.
For he knew then with absolute clarity that last year
at this exact hour he had cleansed Boromir's wounds,
lain his broadsword on his chest and kissed his cold
brow one final time as they placed him in the Elven
boat and sent him off to Rauros Falls. The exact day
and hour that he had buried Boromir.
A moan escaped from Aragorn's lips as he fell down on
his knees, remembering that he would never lay eyes
on beloved Boromir again, nevermore fight beside him,
their swords singing a bloody song together, never
again feel his body warm against his own, the
crackling of the fire concealing the sound of their
whispered endearments from Elvish ears.
"He would not have you mourn him so, my Liege," a
soft voice spoke and a gentle hand came to rest on
his shaking shoulder. "I knew my brother well and I
know that he would not have his loved ones be so
heartbroken over him."
The reassuring weight of his Steward's hand on his
shoulder and the gentle words steadied Aragorn and he
rose slowly, turning towards Faramir, who held a
flickering torch, their only illumination; it had
already grown fully dark outside.
"Nor would he have you grieve you alone, my Lord.
'Joy and misery should be shared with those you love'
he used to say, when we celebrated a hard won victory
and mourn those we lost in battle, our goblets raised
high in praise of honour and love."
Faramir smiled wistfully, the torch light reflecting
in his shining eyes, as he took Aragorn's hand and
lead his King towards the crypt that held the only
things that still remained of Boromir.
"Come. Come with me. We will remember him together.
We will honour him here today with our tears and
grief, and honour him the rest of our lives by
serving Gondor the best way we can. The way he would
have done."
And Aragorn wept again, tears flowing freely and
beside him Faramir wept also, and they spoke long of
lost love and honour regained. Finally there were no
more tears left and no more words to be spoken, and
they stood up and bowed a final time. When they
emerged from the crypt together new guards greeted
them solemnly and in the East the first soft light of
dawn was glowing.
by Sasjah Miller
ragorn did not actually remember what day it was
when he found himself standing in the dying winter
light of the evening before the Halls of the Kings
where the remains of all the Stewards and Kings would
rest until Middle-Earth would be born anew. All
remains save one. For there was nothing left of
Boromir, save the broken horn of Gondor, the
vambraces and the dried blood on the arrows that
Aragorn had carried with him on his journey until he
had brought them here, where his own body would one
day rest as well.
