Disclaimer: The usual…these characters don’t belong to me but to J.R.R. Tolkien and to New Line, Peter, Fran, and Philippa. I make no profit from this story, but please review!

Author’s Notes: Prompt #1 - to write a tale about the remaining Fellowship wanting to create a memorial for Boromir. This is movie-verse with some book-canon because of certain details about what happened when Boromir died. I have no idea of the layout of the palace, so please excuse any liberties I take.

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Shield Arm

By Songspinner

*****

"Just consider it. We should do it soon, I think, as we begin to rebuild the City." Aragorn spoke softly from his seat by the fire.

They all looked at him. Gimli paused in his careful polishing of his axe handle and Legolas, sitting cross-legged at the dwarf’s feet, laid down the bit of wood he’d been carving. Sam stood still in the doorway, a plate of mushrooms untouched in his hands. With a little sigh, Pippin turned away to rest his head on Frodo’s shoulder, but kept his hand firmly in Merry’s grip.

Faramir shifted against the back of his chair and pulled one leg up so that his foot rested on the seat, chin resting on his knee. "Somehow, I thought to do this years from now, when Boromir and I were old and grey. There would be the statue of him along with the others of former Stewards, and I would tease him about how the statue looked so much younger than he." He shot an apologetic look at his King. "Aragorn, I did not mean…"

Aragorn shook his head reassuringly. "I know you did not, Faramir. Both of you were raised thinking that he would likely take your father’s place one day. You could not have known what would happen. It is only what you felt, and I need you to say what you feel just now."

Moving a bit restlessly again, Faramir glance over at Frodo. "Frodo, I know what my brother did before the Uruk attacked. I would understand if you preferred not to…"

"Far from it, my lord." Frodo interrupted firmly but politely. "The Ring did strange things to all of us on our journey. None was immune to its influence completely, and he had sworn his sword to our purpose, to protect us all." He looked kindly at the man sitting across from him. "No matter what happened in the end, he was still part of our Fellowship."

Pippin’s higher voice cut through the silence that followed his cousin’s words. "But what would such a thing look like? I’ve seen the statues in the Hall and the ones in the courtyards. They are beautiful, but they seem…cold, remote. That’s not how I remember him. I mean, he was serious a great deal, but I can remember him laughing, too."

With a nod of agreement, Merry added this thoughts to those of his younger cousin. "We don’t hold much with statues in the Shire. Most of us prefer to remember those who’ve passed through song and story."

"Then perhaps," Legolas said quietly. "We should be doing so. What is good and right for such a memorial might come to us in the remembering."

Sam was the first to offer a memory, surprising them all with his words. "I saw him on watch sometimes…he’d take Strider’s…I mean Aragorn’s watch to let him rest, or one of us, hobbits, I mean."

Faramir smiled at that. "Ah, he used to do that when we were children, taking on tasks when I was small and weary."

Pippin’s answering grin lit the young hobbit’s face. "Boromir taught Merry and me to use our swords, and he was quite patient. He said to me, once, that he looked after us because he done it for you, and you’d given him lots of practice."

"That does not surprise me," Faramir answered, " but of course, that annoyed me to all ends when he did the same once I was grown…"

Several hours later, following much laughter and tears, and Faramir and Gandalf’s affectionate descriptions of what Boromir had been like as a child, the room had grown silent again.

"I miss him." Faramir said simply. "I don’t know if he knew…"

"He knew, Faramir." Aragorn answered his friend’s unfinished but clear question. "He spoke of you often to us on our long road, and he knew."

"There is something that has bothered me for some time, though. When I saw him, on the Anduin, floating…he had his shield over his breast."

"Gimli and I laid it there with great reverence." Aragorn’s voice was hushed in remembering.

"Aragorn, it was undamaged, and Pippin told me that Boromir was hit with…with many arrows as he kept fighting. If he had his shield…?" Faramir broke off, confused.

Looking up, grey eyes glistening with more than just reflected firelight, the King shook his head. "The Ring had hold of him. It made him so focused on wresting it from Frodo’s guardianship that I think he forgot all else, including himself, including his gear. He went looking for Frodo with no more than the weapons that were on him at the time. Sword and daggers. The horn. The shield remained back at the place we stopped to rest."

The young Steward bowed his head. "Without his shield, then…he would have survived, perhaps, and been able to hold the enemy off long enough to save Pippin and Merry if he’d had it on his arm."

"Faramir, there were so many Orcs there, I still don’t know how we fought off as many as we did." Aragorn let out his breath is a soft huff of bemusement before his face grew serious again. "I can scarcely remember the fight…just flashes of it. And all of the ending."

"I do remember," Legolas murmured, "that when Gimli and I came upon you in the clearing on that hill, Boromir wanted his sword in his hand."

"As he died, you mean." Merry’s voice was rough with memory as he ran one hand soothingly through Pippin’s unruly curls that lay against his cheek.

Aragorn was quick to answer. "Merry, when I got to him, his first words were of you and Pippin, and of Frodo. He knew what he’d done and what had happened to you, and all he wanted in that moment was to keep you all safe. You. His city. Our people, he said." He glanced at Faramir as he said this last, seeing new and unshed tears in the younger man’s eyes.

"Our city." Faramir repeated softly to himself, obviously mulling over the words in his mind.

"Our city." Pippin’s whisper startled Merry, who pulled away from his cousin for a moment to look at the younger hobbit, confused. "Don’t you remember, Merry? That night after the crebain attacked us? I was so frightened we’d never return to the Shire, and Boromir sat with me on watch. He told me that if things went ill that we’d travel to Minas Tirith where we’d be safe, that I’d not be alone."

"It is your city, too, Pip." Frodo added from Merry’s other side. "You took oath to protect it in Boromir’s name, Gandalf said."

"But the Ring…" Merry began, and bit his own lip hard to silence himself.

Frodo looked at him long, no anger in his tired eyes. "I know that what he did that day was none of his choice. I heard him, after I slipped it on to get away from him. He was begging me to forgive him, to come back." The hobbit’s eyes turned to Faramir. "His strength was overcome for a while, but he retrieved it in time to try and keep my cousins safe, and for that I shall always be grateful."

"Protection…" Faramir said after a moment of thoughtful silence. "What you said just now, Frodo. That is so much of what I remember of my brother. Protecting me when I was a child, when our mother died, when our father had begun to change. As a warrior and a leader. Protecting all of you on your journey, even to his death."

"Then…is there a way we can use that now, to honor him?" Merry asked.

"Aye, there may be such a way." Faramir replied. "Merry, would you come with me for a while to the library? I have an idea I wish to discuss with you and I need one of your particular talents."

***

It was a midsummer night in Gondor when Merry and Pippin rode through the main gates of the city of Minas Tirith. Faramir and Eowyn rode just in front of them, and Legolas and Gimli behind on Arod, as the hobbits had stopped in Ithilien on their way. Passing through streets lit by torchlight, they rode their ponies and horses up the winding road through the city, the many hooves clattering on the cobblestones. An honor guard had met them at the gate and rode before them, and many came out of their homes to watch the travellers pass. And many of those who knew Faramir cried out their greetings, pleased to see the Steward returned to his city.

"Should I be jealous?" Aragorn said, stepping out to greet them as they entered the first courtyard. "Some would see you stay, I think." The wide smile on his face showed the jest in his words.

Faramir slid from his mount and embraced the King as soon as his feet touched the ground. "Ithilien is responsibility enough for me at the moment. We have come home, my liege, at your bidding."

"We, too." Pippin added, copying Faramir’s example, although Aragorn released his Steward and knelt to better reach his knight.

"I did not know if I should expect you, Pippin. You and Merry have your own home to look after."

With shining eyes, Pippin kept his arm around Aragorn’s shoulder as far as it could reach. "The Shire is doing well. We are free for a while yet, and explained to our families as best we could why we must come back here now."

"Is it done?" Merry asked the King quietly.

"Aye, it looks as you and Faramir hoped, I think. You shall have to tell me once you have seen it if my artisans did him justice." Aragorn hugged him to his free side and then released both hobbits, only to greet the others. He murmured something in Sindarin in Legolas’ pointed ear that made the elf smile, and then the King began walking, gesturing for them to follow. "Come inside and rest. Arwen will want to see you all and you must be weary from the journey."

"Are we in time for afternoon tea?" Pippin inquired with a far too-innocent expression on his face.

Rolling his eyes, Aragorn continued walking. "I anticipated that. No hobbits shall go hungry in Gondor and you know that, Sir Peregrin."

"Of course not, your majesty," that particular hobbit replied, trying unsuccessfully not to laugh. "I know that would never happen."

As the group came around the corner and entered the main courtyard, Merry and Faramir both made soft and wordless noises of surprise and stopped still on the cobblestones.

"Oh." Pippin whispered, and Legolas laid a hand on Gimli’s arm silently.

The statue that stood before them guarded the newly-made doors, just to the side of the massive slabs of stone inlaid with traceries of mithril. Flickering light from nearby torches made the doors gleam as much as the sculpture before them.

Eowyn put her arms around her husband as he gazed at the image in front of them. The artist had sculpted the gleaming stone to show the man standing with his shield covering his arm. But somehow, it wasn’t just the image of a warrior… Boromir’s face had been carved with care, with an open smile that belied the usual seriousness of such memorials. The sculptor had chosen to carve the sword hanging at the man’s side instead of putting it in his hand, and had captured the man beckoning someone unseen to his side, urging that person into safety with him.

The courtyard was illuminated not just by the torches, but by candles set into crevices in the stones below the statue. The melted wax held the candles still although the flames flickered in the cool evening breeze.

"It was unveiled this morning, and most of the city has come to see it, I believe. Some of them brought the candles and lamps, and most of Boromir’s brothers-in-arms were here as well when they were off duty. I hope this is what you envisioned, Faramir. Merry’s sketches were good, but even so…" Aragorn watched his friends’ faces anxiously.

"It is everything I’d hoped, my friend." Faramir said, finally tearing his gaze from the statue of his brother. "It looks like he was in life. My brother and part of my soul." A tear glided down his face and Eowyn nestled closer in his embrace in comfort.

"Thank you." Merry said simply, and reached up to hug Aragorn as tightly as he could.

"I am only glad we could do him justice." Aragorn responded, just as simply.

Pippin lifted his face to Faramir and slipped a hand into his. "Is it truly like Merry drew him? He never let me see the sketches."

Looking down at the young knight, Faramir nodded. "It is. We wanted it to show him as we remembered. Not the huge, larger-than-life images of our ancestors that stand guarding the corridors, but as he was. What he was to us, and to this city."

"And his shield…" Pippin added solemnly. "It’s back where it should be now, for all to see." He let go of Faramir’s hand and set his pack down, rummaging in it for a moment. Then, pulling out the stub of a candle he’d packed, he moved to the base of the statue and carefully lit the wick from a candle already there.

Merry joined him, helping him to melt the base of the lit candle and set it against the stones. As if shaking himself awake from a reverie, Legolas moved to kneel beside his friends and murmured softly in his own language, touching his hand to his forehead and lips in homage. The others followed suit, picking up candles from a small pile that had been laid nearby, and lighting them from those flames that already glowed at their feet.

"He held back the darkness with strength, force of will, and love," Aragorn said to his friends as they stood gazing at the statue of Boromir. "And now we can keep him from the darkness."

In the morning, at the changing of the guards, the men came out to find that all the candles, from visitors and citizens alike, had melted all together. And they were somewhat startled to realize that the wax formed the rough shape of a shield.