Boromir found Frodo sitting by the edge of the Sea the next morning. The man sat down beside him and waited until the hobbit was ready to speak. He had learned on the Quest that Frodo’s long silences were signs of a deep and thoughtful nature.

“I wonder sometimes why I left home,” Frodo said at last. “I did so out of hope for healing, for I knew there was no hope for it if I stayed. Gandalf had told me there may be some wounds that could not be cured in Middle-earth. I feared even then he may be right and he was. Each Rethe and Winterfilth for three years now, I have suffered from my wounds. My last illness was on the ship here. I wonder if this Rethe I will be ill again. I thought at Yule I was feeling better, but the dream last night proves I am still caught so by the Ring. All I can feel and hear is the scream that is my need for it. It cannot be assuaged because it the Ring is gone and I remain, or what is left to me. I miss Sam and Merry and Pippin and the Shire. Why did I come if cannot be free and whole and healed even here?”

Boromir was silent for a while, trying to gather the words that might comfort his friend. He took Frodo’s hand and felt those small fingers wrap around his. Perhaps that was the greatest gift he could give right now. But then he spoke, unable to bear the pain that radiated out from the hobbit and washed over him.

“You said when you first told me where we were that there was a purpose that we were here. Yours is to heal, for so you were brought and agreed to come, but I do not know what mine is. All my life it was ever focused on one thing, that I would be Steward one day. That will now never be but you say there was a reason for me to be here. So there must be, or I would not have been brought here to have it fulfilled. At least that is what my brother would say, for his heart was much more attune to such things than me, or at the least he understood them much better. My heart was ever on the battlefield and on thoughts of glory to be attained there. He was a great and rightfully respected Captain but he was restless there and would have been much happier elsewhere.

“I know he is happy now. I think of what you have said, that he has married. Lady Eowyn is the most fortunate woman in all Gondor and Rohan, for having received such a gift. That he will be a wonderful husband and father, I have no doubt, far better than I would have ever been to any lass or child. I know from all the care he gave to his men and to me. She will never doubt, as they or I never did, that she is deeply loved.

“I miss him. I wish I could tell him that I still live and not have him grieve for me. I felt his joy so strongly at Yule, as it was ever before when we celebrated together, so perhaps he does understand, or at least knows death is no barrier to our bond. But I would have him know without doubt and ease his heart.”

“You did celebrate together,” Frodo said, “just as I did with my brothers. When we met in Ithilien and I told him of you, he said he had had a vision or a true seeing of you asleep in a boat and said your face was more beautiful then than he had ever seen. He knew you died well.”

“That is some comfort then.” Boromir hesitated, then said, “Does...does he know...”

Frodo’s fingers tightened around Boromir’s. “Yes, and he loved you no less, because he understood your heart. And he was tested as well.”

“And he withstood it.”

It was not a question, but Frodo answered it. “Yes, but he did not rely on any continued strength to ever do so. He knew he could fall.”

“He was ever wiser than me in such matters. It would have better if he had gone in my stead to Rivendell. I see that now.”

“Perhaps or perhaps not. Gandalf would say all that happened was meant to happen as it did. It was your fall to the Ring that impelled me to break with the Company and overcome my terror of completing my task. As horrible as that was, it was necessary to have happened. Perhaps it would not have if Faramir had come, and then he would not have been there to give shelter to me and Sam while we wandered in the woods of Ithilien, unaware that the soldiers of the Enemy were so near. If we had not received his aid, who knows where the Ring would be now. Perhaps all Middle-earth would be in Shadow, rather than just my heart.”

“Mayhap it is as you say. He would have thought so. The blood of Numenor for whatever reason ran truer in him than it did in me, and he was more sensitive to the immaterial world. I am glad his gentle heart received such a reward of that vision of me then, if boon it was and not a wound. It could not have been an easy sight for him.”

“It was better than not ever knowing why you did not return and what had happened. He was grieved that you fell, but he had the peace of knowing you had overcome that and had died doing a good thing. I am forever grateful for that myself. And I know Aragorn held you in high esteem also.”

“That is well. He was - is - my king.”

There was silence for a little while until Boromir spoke again. “You mentioned being ill during the year. Can the Lord Elrond give you something to ease it?”

Frodo was silent again for a little while and Boromir wondered if he had struck too close. “I’m sorry, Frodo, if you do not wish to speak of it...”

“No, it’s all right. We hobbits have a fear of saying too much, but on the Quest I began to understand that sometimes it was better than letting memories fester. Sam never wanted to hear what happened, but I made him tell me what happened the day we were apart after... after... I was struck down and captured by Orcs. I think I can tell you better than anyone because I do not have to fear hurting you by revealing all the pain there was or revealing something more shameful than what you have already felt yourself. Perhaps that is the reason you were allowed to come, or one of them.”

Boromir smiled. “Then I will be glad to have that as my purpose if it heals you. I know there is the pain that I saw strike some men after battle at times that no healer could tend, and I would count it an honor if I could help in your cure of that.”

Frodo reached up to his shoulder. “You are kind. That is indeed my torment. My Winterfilth illness comes on the 6^th and I am lost for that day to anything but the pain and horror of Weathertop and the feel of a Morgul-blade striking me in ways more than physical.”

Boromir’s eyes widened. “You were struck by such a blade and survived? There was a man once under my command that was. There was no cure that could come to him in time, but for my blade to release him before it could do its evil work. I marvel that you did not suffer the same fate as he would have.”

“I almost did. Gandalf told me I was but hours away from it before Lord Elrond healed me seventeen days after I was wounded."

Boromir's mouth gaped open. "Seventeen days!! That is greatest of marvels. I never heard of anyone surviving that long. My man suffered only five before we knew there was no hope for him, and he was among the most stout-hearted of us all."

"I am sorry for the loss of your man. I am glad my companions did not have to face such a choice. My other illness comes because I was struck later by something perhaps even more evil, though it would not have turned me to a wraith.”

“I cannot imagine anything worse.”
"You remember when I spoke of being struck by the terror in the High Pass? Be grateful to Sam that perhaps no other person will have to endure her poison."

"It is a wonder that you survived such horrors."

“My body was not greatly harmed in either case. The wounds healed quickly. Smeagol’s teeth did me the worse ill as far as that goes.”

“You will heal, Frodo,” Boromir said with conviction. “You would not have survived such wounds only to remain broken by deeper ones. There was, as you say Mithrandir would, a reason for everything. You have faced greater evil than anyone else has, greater than you thought you could bear, yet bear it you did, and the Nameless was cast down because of it. Though it has hurt you terribly, you still breathe and live. You will conquer this.”

Frodo looked at his friend intently, as though to draw strength from such firm words. Boromir felt akin to what he had when Galadriel had looked into his heart, but this time he did not flinch or turn away or weep.

The hobbit smiled faintly. “Sam would have said the same thing.”

“So would have Faramir. And both are wiser than us.”

Frodo’s smile widened slightly. “Yes, they are. Then I shall believe and hope with their hope and yours.”

Frodo squeezed Boromir’s hand. “And I shall talk to the Lady Galadriel to see if she could perhaps send word to her lord husband to convey to your brother that you still live.”

“Such could be done?”

“The Elves are full of wonder.”

Boromir smiled widely. “No more than you, little brother.”

And so it was. Galadriel was glad to send the request through Celeborn, who was amazed but just as glad to rely such tidings. It was received in Minas Tirith with the greatest wonder and joy. Bells rang out in the City and feasting and merry making went on throughout the night. The Lonely Isle was not so lonely as love and joy reached out from Gondor across the Sea, undiluted in its strength across such a gulf.