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This was my first time really writing book!Boromir, and I really enjoyed it, and grew closer to him in the process.
Third-place Teitho winner.
I: First Meeting
I have always been an early riser. I still remember my mother's mild complaints when I would wake her up too early for her liking. Back then, I loved to greet the dawn with a loved one by my side.
I am much too used to being alone to have such expectations now. Perhaps I now prefer solitude, all these years later. This morn, however, there is another Man within this household of the Eldar. He has not yet seen me; while he has the looks of a warrior, his long trip has certainly tired him and the peacefulness of Imladris has dimmed even his wary senses.
This stranger has come a long way; it is easy to tell by his travel-stained clothing and weary gait. Under the dirt, I can see his clothing is made of rich material and that it is well-made. Curious, I search for a sign of his origin, and quickly find more than I had hoped to discover. On his baldric he wears a great white horn- the Horn of Gondor. I recognize it immediately; Denethor once wore it himself, a long time ago. I am not sure when he passed this heirloom to his son, but it is now obvious that this man is Boromir.
Boromir. Have so many years passed, turning the young toddler I once bounced on my knee into a man in his prime? Despite all the times I felt the days were passing so slowly, it is moments like this that make me wonder where all the years have gone.
He is being led by one of Elrond's household to a guestroom. I imagine he already has met with the lord of the Last Homely House, though I cannot begin to fathom what brought him so far north. They start ascending the stairs; still he does not see me, for he is deep within his own thoughts. He will soon, though. I wonder what he will think of me, for certainly I look like an ill-clad vagabond. I imagine the heir to the Steward would find it odd that someone of my looks is simply lounging about the house of Master Elrond. Boromir will learn my true identity soon enough.
"Mae govannen, Dúnadan," the elf greets me at the top of the stairs.
"Mae govannen, Falasdir," I say in return. My voice startles the other, and he finally sees me.
"You are no elf," he says, surprised.
I cannot help but smile a little. "Indeed not," I reply.
"I must admit I was not expecting to meet another Man in the home of the elves," he explains.
"You will find much more than elves here, son of Gondor," I say.
If he is surprised by my knowledge, he does not show it. Instead, he merely says, "If you will excuse me, I must rest. I have traveled a long road. I would, however, speak with you later."
"Later," I agree. With a quiet farewell, Boromir follows the attendant further into the household, leaving me alone once again.
So that is Boromir. Even through his weariness I can sense his pride and strength. Even if this first meeting was cordial enough, I have to wonder if such a proud man would ever accept me on Gondor's throne.
I imagine that to gain the crown, I must gain his approval first. Will he ever be willing?
Only time will tell.
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