Silmir in Laurelindorian
(Resurrect Boromir Theory Cont)
By Lady Elwing: firstname.lastname@example.org
The sun glistened above the graceful twining branches
of the flet. Boromir sat alone, his knees pulled up to
his strong and broad chest, still scarred with the many
arrow wounds. He found his hand reaching to finger the
horn of Vorondil before he sighed - remembering how it
had been lost through his own folly. He wondered what
had happened to it, whether it would float all the way
to the open sea or fall to the bottom of the Anduin to
lie for the ages. How many heirs had carried it into
battle...Boromir realized then that he was living on the
brink of a new age when everything seemed to be changing.
"I amar prestar aen..." Boromir looked up in astonishment
to see the Lady Galadriel looking at him. He dropped his
head, his brown locks fell gently across his noble face.
"I cannot return...not with..." he ceased speaking and
glanced up at the elf. "Aragorn is also loyal to Gondor.
You must realize at times you must humble yourself to bestow
greater honour upon that which you love. Minas Tirith
needs a king, now more than ever while the shadow grows.
Boromir turned away, biting his lip. He drew his broken sword
absent-mindedly and held it in his lap gazing at the hilt.
The wood grew still around them, almost in tension as
Boromir debated, different emotions were written on
his countenance until they hardened in determination.
He stood up, tall and proud once more looking directly
at Galadriel for the first time. "I will save Minas Tirith,
and if it takes honouring a king, then I am willing."
The Noldormaiden smiled slightly. "Come, I have prepared
a parting gift for the brave Man of Gondor."
Boromir followed her up the ladder to the main flet.
Its branches entwined to form a high roof but it was to
a chest that Galadriel led him. She knelt gracefully
and opened the lid...from within she lifted a long
sword in a silver sheath decorated with flowing leaves
and elfrunes. She handed it to the warrior who stood
gazing down at it before slowly drawing it with a
slight grazing noise of metal upon metal that he knew
so well. The blade was keen and beautiful to behold
"Lady, I know not how to thankyou for such a gift,
I am ill-deserving of your favour." Galadriel closed
the chest and turned to him, "It will be needed
where it is bestowed. Few horses have we, yet one
may bear thee to the White City and will return
of its own accord." Boromir said nothing but
bowed slightly after the fashion of Gondor.
After she had left him, he drew the sword once more.
"I shall call thee, Silmir - shining white for
the lady of Lorien and the walls of my city."
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