Disclaimer: LOTR belongs to the creative genius of JRR Tolkien, not me.

From the Shadows

A/N: Finally, the last chapter. All I can do is apologize for the delay and hope you enjoy the tale.

Chapter 17

Though he had been reluctant to allow a banquet to be held in his honour, Boromir had found it impossible to deny Arwen and Eowyn and had graciously acquiesced to their entreaties. He found himself feeling very pleased he had done so for it was indeed a grand event, with an excellent repast, fine wine and the attendance of as many of his friends, acquaintances and well wishers as the banquet hall could accommodate. It had been far too long since he had seen his people so happy and carefree, Boromir reflected as he cast his eye around the room, far too long since anyone in Minas Tirith had any cause to celebrate. The sounds of music and laughter were also more than welcome, a sure sign that the darkness of years gone by had finally been banished and that peace reigned once more.

Boromir  raised his goblet in a silent toast to all those who had been lost, unable to hide a momentary flicker of sadness in his eyes as he did so as his thoughts drifted to Haldir and his brothers. The war had taken a toll not only on Men, but also the Elves who were leaving Middle Earth, never to return. He knew that their realms would slowly fade into nothing more than a myth in time to come and he felt a stab of remorse to think that he would likely never have the chance to see the Golden Wood, nor to bid his friends a proper farewell.

“Why so melancholy, dear Boromir?”  Arwen, who was sitting next to him,   whispered discreetly into his ear, having noticed the somber mood of the guest of honour. She nodded knowingly as Boromir voiced his thoughts.

“Rest assured all who sail will find peace and happiness in Valinor,” Arwen told him with a sad, yet understanding smile of her own. She would sorely miss her kinfolk, especially Elrond, but a mortal life with her beloved Aragorn was the only choice her heart would allow. “Besides, they have not yet travelled the Havens, nor will they in the very near future. I am sure you will see Haldir once more.” Arwen spoke with a quiet conviction that allowed Boromir to believe that what she said was true.  Although at present he was not well enough to make such a long journey, he was suddenly determined to do so as soon as possible.

“Thank you, my Queen,” he replied, feeling much lighter of heart.  They sat in silence for a few moments, until Boromir realized that Aragorn was nowhere to be seen and Arwen was looking longingly at the couples making the most of the lively dance music that could be heard even above the chatter and laughter of the merry makers.

“Faramir and Eowyn make a lovely couple. I am so pleased to see that they have both recovered from their ordeals so well” Arwen commented as the two danced by, blissfully unaware of anyone but each other.

“Aye, and I have never seen him so happy, nor so in love,” Boromir replied, a single tear of joy indicating his own relief that his brother was healing tracing a path down his cheek.   A soft, compassionate brush of lips wiped it away, momentarily startling him, but he quickly regained his composure. Turning to his companion, he stood and held out his hand. “Since it appears the King is neglecting his duties, would you honour me with a dance?”

After barely one turn around the floor, it soon became obvious that slightly raised eyebrows, fluttering eyelashes and shy smiles were all silent requests from other willing dance partners. Boromir honoured as many as possible, and was pleased to do so, but found himself tiring rapidly and he was relieved when the musicians decided to take a well earned rest. Feeling the need for some fresh air, he made his way to the doors that lead to one of the private gardens. Settling on a stone bench that was out of sight of those in the banquet hall, he closed his eyes the better to feel the cool, refreshing breeze on his face, and to relish peace the silence of the night offered.  He allowed himself a small groan of disappointment when the sound of voices nearby interrupted the calm that had barely begun to descend.

 As he peered into the darkness his eyes became accustomed to the lack of light and he was able make out the shape of two people, one seated, and one lying on his back on the grass some distance away. Not wishing to intrude on what was probably a private conversation, he stood intending to leave, but before he had taken a step back towards the open doors, Aragorn called for him to join them. As he sat down next to Aragorn, Boromir was not surprised to see that the prone form belonged to Legolas. The Elf lay on his back with his hands behind his head was gazing up at the stars, in a manner that reminded the Man very much of Haldir.

“It is very peaceful out here, and the stars are especially beautiful tonight,” Legolas commented, his eyes remaining fixed on the night sky until he heard Aragorn reach for his pipe. Ignoring the feigned look of disgust and the whispered, “dirty habit” the first swirl of smoke earned him from the Elf, the King shared a conspiratorial smile with Boromir. During the journey of the fellowship, both Men had become well aware of Legolas’ distaste for smoking. Boromir smiled as he recalled the many insults the Elf and Dwarf had traded on the subject. No one was more surprised than Boromir when the gruff voice of Gimli, who had just been in his thoughts, called to them from nearby.

“So there you three are. You have the right idea, Aragorn,” the Dwarf stated taking out his own pipe as he joined the small group. “Now, what were we talking about?” He asked in his usual abrupt manner.

“If you must  know, Aragorn and I were discussing my plans to settle in Ithilien,” Legolas responded, fully aware that Gimli would see that there was no malice intended in the slight sarcasm that was  just a part of their usual bantering.

“Legolas tells me that you and he are going to journey back north to your homelands together,” Aragorn told the Dwarf.

“Aye, and then perhaps we will travel to see more of Middle Earth before I return to the Glittering Caves, and my friend to his forest full of trees,” Gimli added, trying to sound disinterested in anything to do with Ithilien, when in fact, he fully supported his friend’s plans to restore the forests with the help of his Woodland kinfolk.

“Aye, I think we will travel to Dol Amroth as well. I wish to learn more of Prince Imrahil, and perhaps some of the skills needed to one day build a ship,” Legolas added with a wistful note in his voice that reminded the others that the Elf had heard the call of the sea and would one day sail for Valinor.

“And what of you, Boromir? Have you any decided to take your rightful place as Steward?” Gimli asked in a forthright manner that neither Aragorn nor Legolas would have employed out of consideration for Boromir’s feelings. Fortunately Boromir did not seem offended by the Dwarf’s directness.

“No, as I have already told Aragorn, Faramir is the Steward of Gondor, and so he shall remain.”

“Then what will you do? Take command of the army?” Gimli persisted.

“No, I believe I will be content to remain as an advisor to both the new General and to Faramir, and to see my city recover and thrive under their charge,” Boromir replied, sounding as if he was trying hard to convince himself that this was the right decision. It was at least in part. He truly had no desire to take the Stewardship from Faramir, but to be forced to admit he was no longer capable of taking back his place as General was another matter. The road ahead would be difficult, and perhaps he would make a full recovery, but he would simply have to accept that Minis Tirith needed a strong, fully capable general now. There were still many small battles to be fought with the remnants of Sauron’s army. If he had learned nothing else from his encounter with the One Ring, it was that his city, his people always had, and always would, come first.

“And whilst I am certain that your advice would be welcome, I have a better solution.” Aragorn said.”I intend to travel back north as well, to rebuild the once great city of Annuminas, the seat of the King of Arnor.”

“Aye, as the King of Gondor and Arnor, that would indeed be a wise move,” Legolas agreed. “It was once a beautiful city, and the Dunedain deserve to have their King reside there at least some f the time.”

“I believe that,” Aragorn confirmed. “What think you, Boromir? Would you travel north with me, be my Steward in Arnor?” For a few moments Boromir was too stunned to speak and when he did, his words took Aragorn by surprise.

“What of the Shire, is it not part of Arnor?” he asked, the pain in his eyes letting the others know he was clearly thinking of the Hobbits and Frodo in particular.  Aragorn knew that Boromir had to make his peace with the Ring Bearer, and in time perhaps he would, but for now he was afraid Boromir would refuse the offer to be Steward of the kingdom in the north. All he could do was pledge his assurance that the Shire would remain free from harm.

“It is my decree that no Man, ourselves included, will be permitted to enter the Shire. It will be protected by the King of Gondor and Arnor for all-time.”

“Aye, ‘tis fitting that it be so,” Boromir stated. Aragorn allowed himself a smile of satisfaction at Boromir’s response, and that of Legolas and Gimli who both nodded silent agreement.

“So you will be my Steward?” Aragorn asked.

“It will be my honour, my King.”

Epilogue:

Boromir stepped from the elegant elvish boat Haldir had gifted him when he finally journeyed to the Golden Wood to see his friend for what would be the last time. Very slowly he made his way back to the ruins of Amon Hen, stopping briefly at the place he had tried to take the Ring, offering a silent plea for forgiveness to Frodo for the pain he had inflicted on the undeserving Hobbit. He moved on to where his life had been taken, or so it seemed. There was nothing there but a dark memory of his own pain and he quickly moved on to the ruins. 

 He felt no fear of the ghosts of the past, indeed he was listening intently for the voices of those who had come before, wanting nothing more than to let them know that he was proud to be a descendant of the Stewards, proud to be able to serve his King. As he stood among the remains of stone figures with their cold eyes never closing, ever watching over their realm, a feeling of calm and peace enveloped him.  It warmed him from within, finally driving the last of the darkness from deep in the back of his mind and from the shadows he thought he caught a glimpse of Elros smiling.