how does gondor grieve? it’s a dying country in it of itself, can anyone make the distinction between tragedies? how many men have fallen, and who buries the dead? where are the mass graves, the unmarked tombs, how many bodies lay beneath the eroded soil?
was there ever time, with the end of the world crashing down, to lay a flower on the grave of a loved one. did you mourn the men who fought for their country, or the country that fell along side them. is it easier to grieve the kingdom, or its people?
when aragorn reigns king, arwen is surrounded by death. i wonder what its like to loose an afterlife and be reminded of its contrary every day. she didn’t grow up with death like many of gondor did.
when boromir was a boy, he saw men fall. he grew up too fast, with his brother at his side, even though boromir tried to shield him by standing in front. all he knew was war. all he wanted was to end it.
he left everything behind to go on a journey so far from home with a slim, almost none, chance of success. to fight side by side with your begrudgingly rightful king, with a wizard, with an immortal elf seemingly untouchable. with the hobbit who’s entrusted with a power you perceive to be the solution to your problems.
it’s a wonder he wasn’t more resentful. the fellowship was full with things he was envious of. the hobbits easy life must have come as a shock, and i wonder if that’s why he wanted to protect them. meet people untouched by war, who have never fought nor gone hungry. he did not hate them for what they had, but wanted to protect them from the harsh reality he grew up with.
boromir is so inherently good it hurts. this man deserved to see the world he fought so hard for. his body lies so far yet so close from his homeland, from his brother. his final resting place is unfamiliar. he never got to go back home.
Small headcanon: In AU in which Boromir didn't die, he would probably have been the one to whom Frodo would have opened up to most quickly, because Boromir would have understood the hobbit and the internal struggle he was having the most out of the entire Fellowship 😭
My favorite fics from Lord of the Rings universe in a single masterlist.
/!\ I do not own any of these stories, all the credit goes to their author (mentionned next to the title). Please leave a like or reblog on their stories if you enjoyed reading them ! /!\
√= Finished series
💓 = Absolute favorites
Series :
The Elf Maiden by @okay-j-hannah - part 1 . part 2 - Fluff
√ Home with the Fairies by @i-mushi - 30 chapters / complete - OC falls into the Middle Earth / realistic
√ Shield by @writingfromkitchenator - part 1 . part 2 . part 3 . part 4 - Fluff
√ 💓 Far Horizons by @author-morgan - Slow Burn / Fluff / OC belongs to Middle Earth
√ Be Mine by luciferslegion - Fluff / Smut / Love at first sight
Ongoing :
💓 Burn like cold iron by @scyllas-revenge - slow burn / OC falls into the Middle Earth
💓 Beastly Nature by luciferslegion - Fluff / Slow Burn / Beauty and the beast retelling
___________________
One shots - Fluff
Burly Captain by @theblogofdurin
Into the Light by @gondorimagines , @averil-of-fairlea & @heilith
Touchy Feely by @gondorimagines & @heilith
I Will Always Be Here by @guardianofrivendell
Bandaging Boromir by @anotherbleedinghart
Now by @heilith (Rated M)
Nothing but a number by @averil-of-fairlea
Is that the Horn Of Gondor in your Pocket ? by @i-mushi
Snowy Reunion by @writingfromkitchenator
The Star of Gondor by @alexi-ohs
___________________
One Shots - Angst
Heat and Make Up by @writingfromkitchenator - Angst / Teasing
Drunken Night by @fandomwarriror - Angst / Fluff
Crying Heart by @amina-celestial - Angst / Fluff
___________________
One shots - Smut 👀
💓 Customer Service by @scyllas-revenge
Lazy Morning by @i-mushi
Kinkmas 2022 : Breeding by @darthglitterfanfiction
trashi-bee said: I also wanna request a super emotional fic with reader comforting Boromir in his final moments HAHHAHAHA SOZ
fandom lord of the rings
featuring boromir x reader (f)
rating rated o for owie
content warning canon character death, canon typical violence, boromir’s death scene but reimagined, lots of emotions, flashbacks in italics.
summary you’re his shadow, and you’d follow him into the afterlife if you could.
word count 3506
attention not proofread. do not repost or translate my work period. reblog & give feedback, pretty please!
leaves explode at your feet as you sprint over fallen logs with the thundering of an Uruk-hai stampede on your heels. your energy running low, your shoulder dips to take the brunt of a collision the moment your feet fumble, and your body careens into a nearby trunk with a breathless grunt.
you’d lost sight of everyone, the fellowship separated and each member at their most vulnerable. you feared for each of their safeties, but none so much as Boromir. call it a selfish bias, when your mission was the same as his: to protect Frodo and the One Ring, but truth was as plain as the daylight. the only reason you were here was Boromir. to ensure he didn’t go alone, to ensure that he didn’t leave you behind.
⚔️ 🛡 ⚔️ 🛡 ⚔️ 🛡 ⚔️
“Do you intend to be my shadow?” Boromir chuckled, heaving the dark saddle on to the back of his steed. his back faces yours, but you can still hear the smile he wears in the bemusement of his tone, the fondness in which he adds. “I take up my shield and you do the same. I draw my sword, and you unsheath your own.”
you smile to yourself, thinking about the question for a brief moment. “Your shadow…” securing the saddle on your own horse, you pat the blonde mane once, twice, thrice. “To be with you as long as the sun is shining upon us.” gathering the delicate flesh of your bottom tier between your teeth, you pause. “Yes, I intend to be your shadow.”
Boromir is quiet, almost unnervingly so, and you consider turning to face him, or perhaps calling his name, but your actions stall the moment you feel his arms coil around your midsection from behind, pulling you against his armored torso. you melt into the embrace. much too cumbersome is your gear against his own to feel any sort of skin to skin contact, but his closeness was enough for now. the warmth of his breath on your ear as he nudges tresses aside to plant a soft whisper of a kiss against the flesh of your throat. to know that he’s right here, with you. goosebumps raise in his lips’ stead the moment they abandon the area.
“Then,” he begins, a husky murmur against the shell of your ear, “you must never leave my sight. If I lose my shadow, I may lose my way.”
⚔️ 🛡 ⚔️ 🛡 ⚔️ 🛡 ⚔️
to avoid a hulking orc-breed with a bloodied blade ripping through the air in your direction, you pirouette with a gust of dust and debris disturbed by your boots. the weapon lodges itself in the toughened bark with a muffled thud. gripping the hilt of your silver companion, the blade aimed parallel to your waist, you drive it back into the demon’s gut and out again in the blink of an eye. the ground may have mumbled when the orc fell, but you couldn’t be for certain; not for the forest alive with the battle- screams for help and Boromir’s horn sounds out amidst the chaos.
and then you spot him.
it was as if a wave of relief had washed over your shores seeing him fighting, seemingly unscathed. he was just at the base of the hill upon which you stood, defending the two hobbits Merry and Pippin, from a battalion of Uruk-hai. you could be to him in moments, you could reach his side and fight the remaining enemies back to hell where they belong. you felt a sense of hope returning, one that had been growing thin the longer Boromir strayed from your sight.
you will your feet to carry you to his side, to his aid, and fallen leaves and brittle twigs break beneath them. your eyes are fixed on his back, watching over him like a guardian angel, though Boromir had never needed such a thing. the strongest warrior you’d ever known, the most skilled with a sword, and a man that possesses a steel determination. he didn’t need your protection, nor did he need a celestial helping hand.
your eyes flicker upwards, through the trees of another rolling hill, to see a river of Uruk-hai spilling over the forest in his direction. your brows furrow; concern beginning to nip at the edges of your mind. no, you tried to tell yourself, these beasts are no match for him. Boromir will win. Boromir will -
the arrow slices through the atmosphere and pierces him.
it’s as if the damned thing had gone straight through him and sought you next, because you felt your pulse stutter, your feet skidding against the dry earth. in an instant, your whole world seems to stop turning. the wind stops blowing, the waves cease their assault upon the beaches, and the sun slinks behind a veil of thick, dark clouds. you can’t scream his name nor can you move from where you stand, terror has cemented you in place.
your sword slips through your fingers and must’ve hit the forest floor, though you don’t hear it do so.
however, even as you remain frozen, Boromir has yet to stop fighting. the arrow protruding from his chest and he still slays them, much to your dismay.
you need to move, to fight, to get to him and help him, and yet your body isn’t obeying anymore. this isn’t right. this is all wrong.
⚔️ 🛡 ⚔️ 🛡 ⚔️ 🛡 ⚔️
you watch his face, studying the stoic countenance. for all the bravado he possesses, it seems to be a performance for your sake, for when you push the needlepoint through his supple flesh, he winces.
“It’s allowed to hurt,” you offer with a softness few other men would ever know from you, your free hand steadying his shoulder. the muscle beneath your palm is pulled taut, to the point that you wonder how painful it is for him. “It doesn’t make you weak.” the tips of your lithe fingers dance along the freshly-rinsed skin, though the smell of blood, both his and the enemies’, still lingers there.
sat upon your knees, you pull the thread to cinch his split skin together, and he lets out a vicious grunt. “It feels worse than when the bastard sliced me with his sword.” he spits, though the curse that follows beneath his breath is coupled with a tight-lipped smirk. Boromir grinds his teeth, head tilting back as you begin a new stitch. “And yet? I didn’t wish to insult your skill.”
“It would hurt regardless of my skill,” you reply with an expression that mirrors his. “But, it’s not fatal, at least.” you pause, and allow your gaze to drink in the sight of him. a mess, through and through, but not seriously injured. svelte fingers flee to his jaw, where they graze the hazelnut beard found there. “They are lucky they didn’t kill you.”
Boromir’s eyelids flutter, and in a moment, crystalline hues pour into yours. “Is that so?” he hisses through grit teeth.
you nod, cradling the side of his face in your palm. “I would’ve taken up your sword and cut them all down where they stood.”
⚔️ 🛡 ⚔️ 🛡 ⚔️ 🛡 ⚔️
another arrow screams through the air and embeds itself in him- his ribs.
this time, however, the mere sound of it is enough to elicit one of your own. a sorrowful howl of his name that may as well have echoed in every corner of Middle Earth. every king in their castles must’ve heard your lament; every elf in the forest brought to tears by your grief.
it was then, when Boromir’s knees hit the dirt, that your own bend. bubbling above the initial shock was white, hot rage, and with your fury you found the strength to force yourself to move. you leave your sword buried beneath the rotten leaves. instead, your feet pound against the forest floor, legs burning yet determined to reach Boromir before death.
as you dart towards the valley, the archer to blame for skewering Boromir comes into sight, marching towards his downed figure. you grit your teeth, eyes closing tight as one more arrow soars from the dreaded bow. the sickening sound of it sticking into Boromir’s gut has your hands trembling as they ball into fists, head dipping to avoid low-hanging branches and the grappling arms of enemy soldiers.
running like the wildest mare, you reach the bottom of the hill in a matter of seconds. most of the Uruk-hai had passed, having taken the hobbits as they intended, and while you should’ve chased them down and freed the halflings, you can’t force yourself to focus on anything but the man slumped on his knees before you.
your lungs are burning, heart thumping furiously against your ribs as you look to him. the lumbering orc leader now stands a few feet from Boromir, drawing his blade. a grotesque snarl erupts from somewhere behind his rotten teeth as he rests the edge of the sword against the Son of Gondor’s shuddering shoulder.
you’ll never forget the visage, as horrible as it was; Boromir peering up at the creature in a hopeless defeat, coupled with the wheezing and bubbling as he attempts to breathe. an arrow must’ve pierced his lung, made evident by the way the air whistles as he tries to bring it into his body, and the exhale is met with dribbling rubies down his chin.
you almost freeze again, but the terrible realization that you only have a few more seconds before Boromir’s head is to be separated from his shoulders overwhelms whatever hesitation found in your body, and you charge the Uruk-hai.
⚔️ 🛡 ⚔️ 🛡 ⚔️ 🛡 ⚔️
“Do not send me away!” exclaiming, you are guided by the firm grip on your bicep towards the boat.
“It’s much too dangerous this time, my love.”
“Who are you to say?” you demand, shaking free of his grip. you take a step away from him, brows knit together. “Do not send me away.” again, only this time, it’s more of a plea.
looking upon him now, you can see fear in his aquamarine couplet, concern pulling the lines in the corner of his eyes. “This isn’t a battle, nor do I have the soldiers of Gondor to bolster the Fellowship.” Boromir explains, rubbing the side of his jaw. “I would be much more at ease knowing that you are safe at home,” a soft smile briefly masks the cloudiness ever prevalent in his expression as his hand then reaches out for you. the roughened palm, calloused from battle, glides along your shoulder and upwards to catch your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I would imagine you are being fitted in sparkling white gowns while I am gone. The thought alone will be enough to ensure my safety. For how could I fall when I’ve got such a fair bride awaiting my return?”
you want to agree to return to Gondor for his sanity’s sake, but you find yourself still reluctant to board the waiting vessel. reaching up to cup his hand with your own, you hold it steady before your tiers and shower each finger with a faint kiss.
“You will be lost,” you whisper. “Without your shadow.” nibbling on the fleshy inside of your cheek, you tilt your head, looking up into his eyes. you can see it there- he doesn’t want you to leave him, either, but he’s frightened. “I would proudly storm the gates of Mordor with no one but you at my side, Boromir.”
“I will not let you put yourself in this danger. Not this time.”
“That isn’t your choice to make,” you reply, wrapping your fingers around his wrist, “I choose who I live for. And who I die for. I choose you. Do not send me away, let me fight by your side until the end. I’m not afraid of Sauron or death, I only fear distance between us.”
Boromir is torn. torn between keeping you close or keeping you safe. however, he knows you’re right. he’s never tried to collar you before, and now should be no different.
he sighs, head dropping. “Very well, as long as you promise to stay close to me always.” you nod, closing the gap between you and him, for him to pull you against his frame, and press his warm lips to your forehead. “You are very brave, my love.” he whispers, muffles against your skin. “Foolishly so.”
⚔️ 🛡 ⚔️ 🛡 ⚔️ 🛡 ⚔️
the moment the Uruk-hai raises his weapon is the same that you reach to retrieve Boromir’s sword from the ground, gripping the hilt. you’d held it before, and yet in this moment it was much heavier. it must’ve been your exhausted muscles that make it difficult to wield. for a moment, you’re unsure if you’ll be able to lift it all.
however, as the beast’s arm comes down with a furious purpose to behead your lover, the metal is met with chivalrous silver. both hands wrapped tightly around the handle, you steady it just above your head to meet the Uruk weapon before it reaches Boromir, as you’ve stepped in front of him.
“You should’ve fled while you had the chance,” like an animal attempting to use a common tongue to communicate with man, it sounds unnatural when he speaks. gritting his teeth, the bulging muscles in his arms tighten and you feel the force of them pushing down against the blades crossed.
the pressure is enough to force them both closer to you, your arms bending against your own strength. it’s painful, and you let out a faint grunt, teeth grinding. you bare them, though not as intimidating as the Uruk-hai, your eyes are more fiery than the depths of Mordor, angrier than the Great Eye itself. “You are wrong,” you hiss, feeling the scrape of the rusted orc blade against your cheek. it breaks the skin, and the demon has a wicked grin on his face. “It is you who should’ve ran away.”
a vile chuckle erupts from him as he presses harder and your knees start to buckle. “Such brave words from such a weak, little mortal.”
your name falls from Boromir’s bloodied lips from behind you, accompanied by a raspy, “Run…” you want to tell him there’s no way you’re going to leave him, but the Uruk-hai beats you to it.
“Not dead yet? Good.” he glares down at you, bore down with all his weight. you can feel your own strength waning; your body reaching a breaking point. “You must care deeply for him, which is why I’ll filet him before your very eyes.”
that was a blunder, and he had no idea. the rage returns, twice as hot like molten lava, and burns through every muscle in your body, giving you enough energy to scrape Boromir’s sword down the length of the orc weapon with an ear-splitting scream of metal against metal. you take the opportunity of the newfound leverage to knock the weapon free from his grip. narrowing your wild eyes, you pay no mind to the weapon clattering against the ground a few feet away, and instead grip his sword tightly to thrust it at the orc-breed’s neck. the intention was to decapitate him, however he’d leaned forward to roar in your direction, and the blade slices clean through his open mouth and pierces the base of his spine.
he doesn’t gurgle until you jerk the sword free, and the now dead Uruk-hai collapses in a bleeding heap of rotten flesh and meat on the ground.
whirling around, the sword hits the ground at your feet with a muffled thump as you follow shortly after, catching Boromir’s shoulders as he starts to waver. you want to scream, to cry, and kill everything in sight, but you settle for a stream of hot tears overflowing from your eyes as you cradle him in your lap.
“Please,” you whisper, though your voice is breaking and the lump in your throat makes it difficult to form the words. “Hold on, Boromir, you’ll all right.”
Boromir clenches his jaw, blood spilling from the loose seam of his chapped tiers. you gasp, eyes wide, and in a desperate attempt to convince him as well as yourself that he’s okay, you swipe the blood away.
“They were taken… the little ones were taken-“ Boromir writhes on your lap, turning to look in the direction in which they disappeared, despair ever present on his countenance. “I failed them. I’ve failed you all.”
you’re quick to catch his face and direct it back to face you. “No,” you can feel your heart fracturing with each word that leaves his lips. “No, you defended them with your life, my love. They know that.” in order to calm your shaking hand, you pet the unruly, soaking tendrils away from his bloodied forehead. “You’ve not failed us, but you must stay with me now. Aragorn will know how to help-“
“It’s much too late for that, love,” he groans, one hand clasping yours with a weakened grip. it was a far cry from his norm, it is so far removed from who he was that it shakes you to your core. a little whimper of protest is all you can muster as more tears flood your cheeks, but you shake your head. “It’s all right. You are with me now, and that’s enough.”
“I want to go with you,” you whine; there’s no denying there’s a childish determination in your shaky voice. “I’m supposed to be your shadow, remember? How will you find your way? Look, the sun is still shining upon us. You said…”
the smile to grace Boromir’s lips is an earth-shattering, heart-wrenching bitter smile of acceptance. acceptance that he’s a dying man. “Sometimes,” he mutters, pained through clenched teeth, “even the brightest days will have the darkest nights. Dark nights where shadows- shadows cannot follow…”
he was running out of time, and you knew that. you also knew that his final moments shouldn’t be of you bickering or fit-throwing, your selfish need to have him with you always could be set aside to ease his fading. you lean forward to press your forehead to his, his sapphire gaze wet with tears that mix with the dirt and blood upon his face, streaking his cheeks. “Even the darkest night will pass,” you insist, pressing a kiss to his lips. “And when it does, I will run and jump into your arms. I love you-“ you pause, batting tears back to see his eyes are open, frozen like marbles. they aren't jarring or startled, but peaceful, in company with the faint smile upon his stiffened lips. “Please don’t leave me here alone.” you whisper; now that it was moments too late, you allowed your own selfish grief to overtake you, and you hug his corpse to your chest and weep for your fallen love.
with every passing moment now without Boromir’s light, your heart aches, as if an aperture has ripped through it, and your whole world comes crumbling like shattering stone walls around you.
there’s a crackle from over your left shoulder, someone breaking a twig beneath a heavy step, and you snatch the sword up once more, turning in the direction with the blade outstretched and wavering weakly. your cheeks are stained with blood and tears, eyes puffy and nose red.
Aragorn, joined by Legolas and Gimli, is standing a few feet away, but both hands raise, a signal that he’s not a threat. “It’s only us,” he murmurs, taking a step forward.
“Don’t.” you hiss, pointing the sword directly at him. “Just stay back. Stay- stay away.” you were aware he wouldn’t hurt you, but the fear of him forcing you to abandon Boromir’s body in the woods has made you wary of his very presence.
Legolas is nearly side by side with Aragorn, and he’s the one that speaks instead, both halting in their tracks. “We cannot stay here, you know this. Let us help you.”
your chest rises and falls with heavy, ragged breaths, on the cusp of hyperventilation, and you look down at the dead man in your lap, before back up at them. “I won’t leave him here like this.”
Aragorn takes a slow step forward, and then another when you no longer threaten him with Boromir’s sword. instead, you allow it to rest in your lap while you cradle him, and Aragorn kneels beside you. “I wouldn’t have you do so.” his voice is low, gentle- knowing. “Legolas and I will prepare a boat. We will send him on his final journey like the hero he was.”
you nod, holding the sword. “He will need this.”
you almost place it in his cold fist, but Aragorn stops you. “No, you keep it. Boromir would want to be with you always, and this is how he can. Don’t ever let it go. Keep Boromir close.”
