by Cinzia


In the darkness, I hear his voice.

I know this is my death. I know the last thing I saw in my life was him, his broken heart looking at me through the deep grey of his eyes. I felt his arms holding me, comforting me.

And then, I felt nothing.

But now I hear his voice; not the words he spoke to me in those last moments, just... his voice. Soothing. Comforting.


There is something here, with me, in me, I do not know. A memory perhaps...
Something I carried with me my whole life, buried away so deeply--barely remembered, never quite forgotten.

A memory set deep into the heart of a small child, a child cradled in strong arms. A loving voice, softly speaking, whispering soothing nonsense to chase away childish fears.

"Hush, hush, nin meleth. Don't cry. All will be right."

Darkness is receding; I see a face before me. It is his face, yet it is different... younger. His eyes, though. His deep, soulful grey eyes. I see his eyes--they are the same.

"Boromir. Don't cry."

Years rush by, then come back, swirling around, flashing past, slowing me down, carrying me away. Closing over me, till past and present are one, a mockery of the future that once was. Time does not exist anymore. I have no more time.


The name comes to me, and I did not realise I had ever known it.

All my life... all my life, I've had this memory; I was too little to recall more than this, to truly remember his face, to know his eyes from any other eyes I have ever seen. But I have always remembered, and it was more like a feeling, deep inside, a part of my very heart. I have always remembered his voice, heard it even... I just did not know it was his. It had become, in the long years, a part of me. The better part, that kept me strong, that kept me true.

That kept me hoping--even if what for, I could no more tell.

I had his voice in my heart, and it was my heart's quiet strength.

It was its love and its hope.

My heart never forgot how it felt, being held safely within his arms, protected by his love.

The Ring, the damned Ring, it crawled into me, whispering louder and louder till it all but drowned out his voice. Till I couldn't hear it anymore.

And my hope failed.

But he spoke to me again. He told me I had been brave. He comforted me, promising he would protect our people.

Promising all would be set to right.

I knew he spoke the truth; hope sprang anew in me--and I remembered.

The first time I set eyes upon him, in Rivendell. Our first, harsh words. Listening to his words, not to his voice. Deeming the words more important. The look in his eyes.

His eyes.

I did not listen to his voice; but his eyes, they spoke to me as well, and I saw what they said. I saw, though I did not understand how could he love me.

I remember.

The first time he held me, in the deep darkness of Moria. How fierce it was. How safe.

The first time I made love to him--how I wept, afterwards, at the sheer rightness of it, and his arms coming around me, holding me tight. Cradling me, while he softly spoke nonsense into my ear, his voice trailing words like kisses into my heart.

"Shh, Boromir. Don't cry. My Boromir. It will be all right."

Kisses like words. Bringing me home.

"Nin meleth."

Falling into his voice, into his eyes, as I had fallen into his arms.

Falling in love.

All over again.

And I did not know it.

My love.


My Aragorn.

My hope.

Darkness is no more; I am no more.

He is here, at the beginning; he is here at the end. My whole life. He is here. End and beginning, first and last, all fade into eternity; all there is is eternity, knowing that it is as he had promised.

I am no more; I am forever--held in his loving arms, knowing finally his eyes. Listening to his soft, comforting voice. Knowing it is talking sense.

All is right.

My love.


The End