By: Dana
Summary: What remains of the strength of Men.
Characters: Boromir
Pairings: None
Rating: G
Warnings: Angst
Author's Notes: Just a simple vignette, set in Lothlorien. Thanks to Lindelea for editing.
Disclaimer: The author makes no claim to owning the rights of anything to do with J.R.R. Tolkien or New Line Cinema. Any and all characters and situations that have been borrowed are for the author's personal use only, and for the entertainment of others.

I, Boromir, have never been one to dream, and yet I find that in Lothlorien, under the veil of Elven trees, I cannot remember a time in my life when I did not.

And some dreams are more fanciful than others; to see in my mind, Aragorn, that scruffy Ranger, upon the throne of Gondor, and to know that it could come to pass. But I do not think that it would be as bad as I might have imagined at one time. I have fought beside Aragorn, and it is almost painful to admit that he is not as terrible as I first thought... in the beginning.

But there is not only light in those dreams, and there are those that cling to the my waking hours like old ghosts. And a future where Gondor burns, where the trees of Lothlorien are barren and dead, where Rohan has been swallowed by Shadow, is a future that is too terrible to bear. But what is worse is the fate of the Shire, that land of gentle people, of laughter and of cheer; the halflings, dead or enslaved, their forests razed, their fields burned to the ground. I swear... by the White Tree of Gondor I swear I will not suffer those who torment the little ones so to live. To see Merry and Pippin, beyond all hope, tormented, is a sight that I would die to keep from coming to pass. I would. Indeed.

For if there is a chance that if I give up my life, that those that I care for most, would never live to see such a darkness, then it is a price that I would... nay, I will pay with my own heart's blood.

In the dark watches of the night, I have pondered long, and now I know deep in my heart, somehow, I shall never see the White City again, that Minas Tirith will be a memory of white and silver, of trumpets and the distant calling of the sea, and I shall take with me to the end of my journey... to the grave. I guess... I hope my father will understand. I know that my brother will appreciate such sacrifice and strength, a side of me, I know all too bitterly, that Faramir has never seen.

And it is no heavy price, no weighty burden to bear; it is simply love, and faith, and what remains of the strength of Men.