A/N: The Red Book is quoted from briefly.

Boromir walked in the woods seeking Frodo who had asked to be alone to ponder his burden and the path he should now follow. It was a grey day and a veil of fog lay thick upon the land. Then he spied the Ring-bearer and they exchanged words about the man’s need for the Ring and Frodo’s refusal of his pleas to have it. Boromir’s words grew increasingly angry in the face of the hobbit’s obstinance. The woods rang with his voice.

“I am a true man, neither thief nor tracker. I need your Ring: that you know now; but I give you my word that I do not desire to keep it. Will you not at least let me make trial of my plan? Lend me the Ring!”

“No! no!” cried Frodo. “The Council laid it upon me to bear it.”

“It is by our own folly that the Enemy will defeat us,” cried Boromir. “How it angers me! Fool! Obstinate fool! Running wilfully to death and ruining our cause. If any mortals have claim to the Ring, it is the men of Numenor, and not Halflings. It is not yours save by unhappy chance. It might have been mine. It should be mine. Give it to me!”

Frodo did not answer, but moved away till the great flat stone stood between them.

“Come, come, my friend!” said Boromir in a softer voice. “Why not get rid of it? Why not be free of your doubt and fear? You can lay the blame on me, if you will. You can say that I was too strong and took it by force. For I am too strong for you, halfling,” he cried; and suddenly he sprang over the stone and leaped at Frodo. His fair and pleasant face was hideously changed; a raging fire was in his eyes.

Boromir grabbed Frodo by both arms. The hobbit cried out and struggled and kicked, but the man was right. He was too strong for the Ring-bearer. The warrior beat Frodo, who began to bleed around the head, nose, and mouth. His rage fed on the terror he saw in the Ring-bearer’s eyes. One last blow struck the hobbit unconscious and limp in his assailant’s arms. Boromir threw him down and grabbed for the Ring around its Bearer’s neck, which was now twisted at an unnatural angle.

Boromir gave Frodo one last look and then fled with the Ring into the woods. He saw Orcs beginning to gather but fled before them. They gave chase but he soon eluded them and killed those few who dared to continue. The one survivor would have taken word back to his fellows about an invisible spirit who brought violent death but he was felled himself before he could. Boromir saw Merry and Pippin searching for Frodo and not realizing how close the enemy soldiers were. He saw them surrounded and knew they saw him but he fled on. The Ring must get to Gondor.

The fog around him grew more dense and there seemed to be voices in it. “I can see you! There is no life in the void. Only death. I will follow you and take you and your city. The Ring is mine!”

Boromir made a fist and covered the Ring with his other hand. “You will not have it!” he cried.

“Take it off, you fool! Take it off!” came another voice.

“No! It goes to Gondor to defeat our Enemy!”

There was a terrible, long laugh that stabbed at Boromir. It was like being pierced with blades.

At the sound of the man’s voice, Orcs turned but saw no one. But they felt his blade and all fell before him. He ran on. There was no time to lose. Then suddenly in a red haze was a great hand reaching out for him, burning him and wrenching his hand open. He screamed in pain. And then he saw Frodo before his mind’s eye, broken, and bleeding, and hobbling toward him. He brought his sword in a wide, violent swing and struck the hobbit down. An instant later, the burning hand tore the Ring from his grasp and smote him with pain enough to wish for death but not to be granted it. Boromir’s entire body felt aflame and there was naught he could do to quench it. He screamed again and heard once more the laughter of the Enemy, then he was aware of nothing but the pain, barely even noticing his own howls.

After an eternity he felt a soft damp cloth on his forehand and cheeks and a gentle voice calling him. “Wake up, Boromir, wake up. ’Tis a dream. ’Tis but a dream. Come back to the light.”

Slowly, so slowly, Boromir swam to the surface of wakefulness and escaped the suffocating darkness with a gasp. His eyes opened to see a concerned and loving face illuminated by a oil lamp. He turned away from it in shame. The hand that had he felt stroking his face with the cloth continued its tender care. He began to weep.

“Depart from me, Frodo, for I am not worthy of your care.”

“Am I any more worthy of yours? And yet you give it. You are burning as with fever but it seems to be abating on its own. What terror had you so entangled?”

Boromir was glad to receive a cup of water from Frodo, fo it delayed his response. He drank slowly though shame was almost choking him and he had to force himself to speak.

“I dreamt of our last words together.”

Frodo was silent but took Boromir’s hand gently. Encouraged and humbled by such care, the man struggled to continue. “I struck you many times when you would not yield the Ring to me. I threw you down and took the Ring and fled with it. I cared not whether you were wounded or dead. I saw Merry and Pippin captured by Orcs and I forsook all honor and came not to their aid.” The warrior stopped again. He would have withdrawn himself fully from Frodo’s care but the hobbit would not let him go. It brought great shame and strength to Boromir at the same time. “The men of Gondor take oaths to serve faithfully and there are punishments for dishonor and betrayal. I never thought I would count as a traitor to all we held dear. And then he came, the Nameless One, and told me there was no life, only death.”

Frodo’s hand tightened around Boromir’s. “So he also spoke to me.”

“And there was another voice calling me a fool and telling me to take off the Ring.”

“Gandalf spoke to me so, shortly after I fled from you.”

“Yes, it did sound somewhat like Mithrandir. But I refused both voices and kept the Ring on and for himself. Then I heard the Enemy laugh and then with a burning hand he reached out to take the Ring. His entire being was aflame and his touch sent me burning also. I screamed. It was then that I discovered he was wrong, though, about there being no life, only death. I was still horribly alive and every second was an agony almost beyond bearing. I would have welcomed death, but he would not release me. It was more pleasure for him to torment me rather than kill me outright. He knew just how much pain could be borne without causing death. And perhaps such punishment was proper for such great a betrayal.”

“He delights in such things.”

Boromir’s heart broke with the deadness in that voice now so dear to him, this being he betrayed. “I’m so sorry, Frodo, I am so very sorry. It is good the Ring is gone, for I fear what I would do if it were here. I felt in the dream the madness in me just as keenly as I did then, and indeed it is with me still. I did far worse things in my dream because of it. How did you endure it?”

Frodo looked at him. “I didn’t. Not without going mad myself. What you did in seeming, I did or nearly did in truth. I said and almost did horrible things to Sam and yet he never abandoned me and ever loved and forgave me. He taught me much. I fought Gollum for the Ring at the Fire. But I forgave him for betraying and hurting me. I forgave you. You did not hurt me, Boromir. You did not forsake honor by abandoning my cousins to torment. You fought valiantly against the Orcs. Merry and Pippin never blamed you for their capture, and neither do I. I do not show you as much honor as I should for all you did to save them. I cannot imagine the suffering you endured on their behalf.”

Boromir could not bear to look into such loving, forgiving eyes for long and soon looked away. “Yet I did fall to the Ring in truth, and not just in seeming.”

“As did I later. But after yours, I came to understand that, even though it grieved and frightened me, it was fortunate and turned to good because it also strengthened me to decide to continue on my own. I could not thank you for that, not until now. I know from what Aragorn told me you were lamented as a beloved companion, not as a hated traitor. You were broken and made whole again by his care, just as he helped save me and called Merry, Eowyn, and Faramir back from the darkness. Such is the heart of a king who loves his people. Rest now in the peace of knowing you helped the king to return and in the victory you helped gain for Middle-earth in releasing me from the shackles of fearing to do what I knew I had to.”

Frodo lay down and fell asleep on Boromir’s chest. The man was humbled and moved to tears that he had just exposed his heart with all its despicable actions, and yet here was this hobbit resting his head innocently and trustingly against it. It was the one thing that allowed the warrior to return to sleep himself with his arms around his friend.