Aragorn has sent his Captain north with two missions: to make a strategic survey of the ruins along Lake Evendim, and to relax and enjoy himself at Pippinâs wedding.
Boromir has more trouble obeying one than the other.
Warnings: Adult humor/themes/language, alcohol and tobacco usage, mentions of PTSD and past traumatic events.
***DISCLAIMER: All depictions of OC Fern Whitfoot are of an adult hobbit. Any interactions suggesting otherwise will be blocked and/or reported if necessary.***
Status: Complete
Word Count: 35k
Notes:
Artwork: All artwork throughout this fic is mine, unless credit is otherwise given.
Flora: The flower meanings in this story are pulled from Floriography by Jessica Roux, except where I took creative liberties or made things up (such as the meanings of bells of Ireland Tookbank, milkweed, and rockrose). Incidentally, this is a gorgeous book, perfect for any fans of the Victorian flower language.
Character depictions: Thereâs no rhyme or reason as to why some characters look more or less like their movie counterparts. I like to play with character designs, and these are the ones that settled in place for this fic. Itâs nothing personal against any of the actors or their portrayals.
ughuhhuhuhghuhh the tangible realization of his mortal life ending right here right now, far from the echoes of his city sketched in the background, on a quest that never truly felt like his own, what if I CRIED
Happened to be scrolling Tumblr while my husband was flipping channels in our Thanksgiving hotel room, and he said "we could watch Goldeneye" and I said "sure, my boy's in it" and he paused, confused, and said "...Pierce Brosnan?" And I gave him the most wounded look and turned my phone around to this exact gif and he just kind of whispered "how... did you already have a picture of him ready?"
Another universe-quaking issue of immense importance from yours truly; Boromir is not a predator, he does not have a small pack of carnivores, he does not pursue, he does not hunt, he is not an ambusher, he is not a 'one burst of massive energy and then sleep all day' guy his daemon is not a wolf his imagery is not fangs or claws okay that's not Boromir, Boromir's a walk all week guy, he's a stand and defend guy, he's an 'I'm big enough, lets see how deep those teeth go before I get you' guy he's an 'I'm willing to risk it' guy he's a herd of hundreds guy he's an 'I'll forge a path' guy he's an 'I'll die but I'm taking 20 of you with me' guy he's a prey animal he's beast of burden !!! HE LITERALLY HAS A HORN.
Tried to do a more simple style, not really chibi though? Trying more stuff with Gondorian clothing, though I think I like my other designs more (as well as Faramirâs design)
I really wasnât sure where to go with Finduilasâ design and am really loving @emilybeemartin take on her, so I hope you donât mind me using your design for her đ
Elves, Boromir has learnt, pass through this world with no whisper of footsteps. In all the time he has been here, heâs not sure how long anymore, he has seen them slip in and out of the trees like shadows.
So when he hears the rustle of tree branches, as Legolas makes himself known some distance away, he knows itâs for his benefit.
He makes no move to beckon him over but nor does he push him away as the elf comes to settle down beside him. The silence that follows appears to cause him far more discomfort than his companion, though after a while he does speak.
âYou seem uneasy.â
Boromir shifts in his seat.
âI mean no disrespect,â he mutters, âI just prefer the company of my own people.â
His eyes widen as he realised what he said.
âI did not meanâŠÂ You are not⊠Well, I only meantâŠâ
His stammering is cut off by a merry laugh and he sighs into his hands. Damn the elf and his strangeness. He could not understand how Aragorn could hold conversations with him long into the night. He had not a clue what to say. His eyes look like they have seen too much yet he looks as young as some of the newer recruits he had been training just before he had left.
He frowned. How many of them had died while heâd been away on this journey, too far to be of any help?
âI understand,â the elfâs voice steers him back to the waking dream of the present, âIt is difficult find rest in an unfamiliar place.â
âIt is not just that,â he begins, but says no more.
They had traveled together three months but Boromir still doesnât know where to place the Prince of Mirkwood. He knows that he is kind, he has seen it. And he know that he is trustworthy and skilled. Heâd be lucky to have him at his side in battle. Yet there are times he seems so distant, like he walked in a different world, near but never quite touching their own.
âWhile you rest here, your own people are fighting the darkness that would overtake your lands.â Legolas supplies, âAnd they are losing. You want to be at their side.â
âIt is true what they say of elven magic,â he sits up a little, edging just slightly away, âYou can read minds.â
Legolas laughs again but shakes his head. Boromir remains unconvinced.
âBut I know anyway, for it is the same in my mind.â He frowns and looks out into the branches, âMy realm was great once. But I too cannot remember a time where we were not fighting the dark. There are times of greater peace but still it lingers.â
Boromir nods slowly, âAlways a shadow.â
Legolas sighs softly and in it Boromir can hear his own exhaustion. It brings sorrow and⊠something else heavy on his chest and he doesnât trust himself to speak until Legolas does again.
âYou will go back to your people?â
He nods again, âBut you will not return to yours.â
Legolas chuckles, âMy father would wish it I think but- â
âWhat - Oh forgive me,â Boromir cleared his throat, but Legolas smiles at him and after a moments hesitation he continues, âYour father, what is he like?â
Legolas leans back, soundless against the undergrowth. Itâs like it bends around to accommodate him. His held tilts to the side as he considers.
âProud,â he says after a very long moment, âStubborn. And kind, as often as he is able.â
Boromir hums in acknowledgment. It is all the more difficult to be kind in these days. He tries to picture the Elvenking. His face in his mind is probably more like his own fatherâs than it ought to be but it settles his heart somewhat.
âI am scared for him most of all.â Legolas says suddenly, Boromir turns to see his face unusually pinched in worry, âAnd my brothers. That something should happen to them while I am away.â
Without really thinking he places a hand on the elfâs shoulder. He regrets it almost instantly. He has not seen the elves of this forest so familiar. Still it had seemed the natural thing. Perhaps heâs gotten more used to the elf than he realised. He seems more present than the others of this forest, who float about like memories of songs long forgotten. Whatever he thought, Legolas leans into the touch quite readily.
âBut you will stay all the same,â he asks softly, like he was talking to one of his young soldiers and not an immortal warrior.
âI am more use here I think,â Legolas replies, âworking to a final end.â
Boromir pursed his lips and looked away.
âDoâŠâ his words come out unsteady but heâll not back down twice, âDo you really think this quest will succeed?â
He turns back and knows immediately heâs made a mistake. Those starlit eyes are too old, too clever and far too far away to understand his fear.
âWhat other hope is there? We must succeed.â
Boromir wonders at what sort of a being could speak with such blind conviction. He doesnât know whether he fears or envies it. Of course such a creature of light could not understand the strange and dangerous thoughts that plague his waking moments. It was foolish even to ask.
âWhat else but to cave to despair and the Enemies purpose?â
âIs that what you think of me?â Boromir snaps.
Legolasâ eyes widen as if surprised, âNo I⊠forgive me I suppose I speak only of my own mind.â
Liar. He almost sighs aloud. NoâŠÂ Scheming creature trying to catch him in a lie. Enough.
Boromir shakes the voices from his head and gets up quickly. He cannot trust himself to speak to anyone when the whispers draw near, least of all a riddling elf.
âThere is hope yet Boromir,â He hears the elf call after him and almost laughs.
âIf there is I cannot see it.â
It takes an effort but he looks back. He had no idea what genuine earnestness looks like on an elf, but Legolasâ expression is as close as he can imagine. Part of him wants to go back to sitting in his strange, quiet company but it is if a gulf of shadow lies between them now. Even so his eyes soften.
âI have gone long without hope, Master Elf. And I have fought long and hard without it. You need not fear for me.â
Legolasâ lips part slightly, as though he were about to say more but instead he just nods and smiles faintly. Boromir gives a slight bow and takes his leave. He will sort out the mess of darkness that kept clouding his thoughts. Then, and only then he might be able to speak more easily with the Prince of Mirkwood.
Boromir Week Day 5/6: The People's Prince & Change of Fate
Set after the events of The War of the Ring and during (or slightly after) Aragornâs coronation. Returning back to Gondor and Minas Tirith would bring back so much pain and relief, to see how much the people have changed (and himself) and yet how his country is finally safe after everything thatâs happened. Plus of course how happy he is to see his brother, captain, and king :3c
For the attire I was really inspired by @now-for-wrath-now-for-ruin designs for the under-cloak (loved it sm actually please go look at their stuff itâs so great), plus looked into some more byzantine fashion from the 14th century and added some more matching stitchwork/lines that match Faramirâs outfit from the coronation.
Didnât entirely finish the background (actually had an entirely different piece for Day 5 of a banquet planned out that Iâll have to finish later) so also have one plain for outfit visibility purposes :]
