Cats, candles, painting, music, poetry, stars, and Robert Heinlein.

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Stranger in a Strange Land

Bathed, fed, rested, Boromir wandered aimlessly; his only companion a friendly black cat who rubbed against his ankles, purring – the most cordial greeting he had received at Imladris.

He explored quiet, candlelit spaces, chambers where one would expect to find exotic visitors from distant lands discussing painting, music, poetry. Faramir would love being here, Boromir thought, stabbed by loneliness as piercing and painful as any blade.

Stepping outside, Boromir gazed up into the starry night, and breathed a silent prayer: Look up, brother; think of me in this moment, and know that you are in my thoughts, my dearest friend.