No Stones to Build, Or Wood to Burn by Peregrin Ionad

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A/n: For Nau_tika, who wanted a drabble about Boromir - it was going to be happy (honest!) but the image that will always stay with me is that of them putting Boromir in the boat and sending him over the falls... et voila!


His hand grows cold even as I grasp it in my own, slick with quickly drying blood. With my other hand I clasp his fair face, slack and emotionless in death, yet holding the strange peace all the dead seem to acquire. The tears, which have so long been forced away, storm out of my eyes and flood down my cheeks. I lower myself to the ground beside his body and begin to weep bitterly, Boromir may not have behaved the most honourably out of our fellowship, but he was the bravest son of Gondor and I, above all, should know about the weaknesses of man. He deserves to be mourned as fully as a king and even if all I can give him is my fast-falling tears and a lament, then I shall have fulfilled at least some of his rites.
I glance about, for stones to build a cairn, perhaps, but I know how little time we have and all the rocks become too large boulders and tiny pebbles. There is wood, to build a pyre and burn him as the Kings of old, but the smoke would draw their notice to us, and that is attention we cannot afford to gain. I think of weighting down the body with stones and letting the river take it, an ignoble end, but surely better than leaving it for wild animals to maul. Then it comes to me - we have no need of our boats, the Anduin runs straight to Gondor, and the Elven boats would stand the test of the wild current far better than those built by men. We shall place him in a boat, surround him with the weaponry and armour of his last foes and let the river take him home, where no foul creature shall dishonour his corpse or bones.

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