I AM

By Archet

 

Rating: G

Pairing: None

Summary: Boromir's thoughts while nearing the end of, and after, his long journey to Imladris.

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of any Tolkien or New Line Cinema/Peter Jackson's works or characters.  I'm making no money whatsoever with this.

Archiving: Edhellond – The South Haven, any others please ask permission.

Feedback: Welcomed at ajlang7@yahoo.com

Warning:  Not beta'ed!

   

~ Day one hundred of the one hundred and ten day journey:

 

I am weary, and that truth finds me here in the wilds alone, bound for Imladris, a place that may not even exist except in lore.

A riddle is burned into my mind that speaks of the fate of my home.  It speaks of vague things I do not understand but must.

I am a strong man, and what answers I have had to seek in life were usually discovered by strength of will or strength of sword, yet these skills have not aided me in the matter of the riddle.  The hope that I may yet find these answers I seek eludes me.  What benefit is there in a strong will and sure sword if the one who wields them is without hope?

There is a black shadow upon my heart.  Whether it is cast by my own fears, or is some terrible portent, I do not know.  It speaks to me in the deep dreaming part of night.  It proclaims that the glory of Gondor will never be regained, and that I am failing in spirit.

Fear fills me as I have never known it, for against my will I have begun to believe in the shadow, and that it holds sway over my beloved White City, over myself and all those who look to me to protect them.

I must not fail, as the fate of my city seems to rest entirely on my shoulders.  Here, I am alone in carrying it.

~ After the Secret Council Meeting  

I am the future Steward of Gondor.  I have travelled far, and look only to find some hope that I may bring back to my people.  I ask not for great weapons of war or armies, but only for answers that might bring forth this much needed hope.

I may have found that hope in the form of a golden ring this day.

Is this ring not the answer to the riddle that torments me?  If not, what could that answer be, and where else might I discover it?  

Whether or not I have found the riddle's answer, I have found another great burden.  There is one here who would claim to be our king.  His name is Aragorn and of him I do not know what to believe.

He and the Elf Lord are wholly against using the ring and those here would have this man, this ranger of the north, rule my city, my people and myself.

My words to him were spoken in dismay and anger, for do they not see the price that Gondor had paid these last years?  And now this new weight is laid upon my heart.

I cannot help but wonder, where have any of the wise council gathered here been while Gondor has suffered; where has our king been lingering?  Are not my people noble enough to deserve their attentions?

Do they not see it has been Gondor's blood spilt in keeping Mordor at bay?  Do they not understand the price we have paid, and continue to pay?

Now this ranger might soon seek to claim my White City.  He does not know that I might give it to him, that I would give all I possess if he could save her from ruin.  What use is there in a rule over a ruined city, over a desolate people?  Were my pride to allow it, I do not think any of them would believe me should I offer such a pledge now.

But is he king?  Is he worthy?  Where has he been these long years as his people fought and died?  How ever will I tell this fell news to my proud, ailing father, my Steward?

So many questions are laid on my heart of which there are no clear answers.  I fear many more will follow.  

Perhaps the matter of the ring is not as simple a thing as it would seem.  Despite my misgivings I have pledged my arm and my word to the quest that might destroy it.  I suppose I will see where Gondor's fate lies at the end of this journey.  I suppose we will all see.

 

The End