Full Of Grace
Death would bring him no honor, whether he chose to die or not. Boromir had
already lost his honor on the hillside where he tried to take the Ring from
Frodo. The Ring had found out his weakness and tortured him with it, showing him
Gondor as a ruined wasteland. He had given in to despair then, though despair
was unworthy of a warrior.
Even after he recovered his senses, he saw that he had sunk into darkness, as
surely as Gandalf had fallen in Moria.
From the moment he beheld the vast orc army, Boromir understood that it was
hopeless to try to save the little ones as well. The sight chilled him. He could
not defend Merry and Pippin against so many. And the Horn of Gondor could not
summon aid to him in time, so far from home, blown by his lips which had
betrayed them all.
Yet the battle seemed a relief. He swung his sword and brought down the servants
of evil, heedless of the small injuries that they inflicted upon him, determined
only to fight so valiantly that the battle would be all he knew.
There was a moment, as the first arrow pierced him, when Boromir knew that he
had sought out such an end. The second shaft dropped him to his knees, and after
the third he could not rise again. He watched the goblin-men seize the hobbits,
thinking only that it was over. Now he could die, now that he had failed in this
final task.
He faced the creature taking aim at his head with a level gaze. This he could
do: he could welcome the fatal blow.
Aragorn burst through the trees so suddenly that Boromir almost believed he had
flown there. It pained his heart that the other man should find him in such a
state, yet he was glad to look upon Isildur's heir one last time, even though he
was filled with terror at the thought that Aragorn might die trying to protect
him when he was already lost.
Yet Aragorn proved victorious, and flew once more to Boromir's side. The older
man's eyes filled with horror as he beheld Boromir's graying skin and heard the
wheeze of lungs drowning in their own blood. Boromir tried to tell him that it
was better this way, for he would rather die unlamented at Amon Hen than witness
the darkness covering his city.
The forgiveness and sorrow in Aragorn's eyes made Boromir despair anew for the
life he had lost. He longed to take back all the words he had spoken in anger to
the Ranger, now their leader, the worthiest man he knew.
Then Aragorn promised to defend the White City and their people. Shivering while
he fought not to sink into death for one more moment, Boromir gladly gave him
the allegiance he had held back for so long. As the undertow surged to claim
him, he gazed into Aragorn's glistening eyes, wishing with all his heart that
they might both find alone the grace they had never shared.
"My king," he said, and saw the acceptance on Aragorn's face, and felt himself
lifted from the darkness.
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here was a moment, as the first arrow pierced him, when Boromir knew that he
had sought out such an end.
