Waking was a slow, slightly painful process.
I was in my room. And alone . It was late twilight as near as I could tell. A branch of candles stood lighted at my bedside and there was a fire burning in the grate. Above the sound of water, I could hear singing again. The elves certainly had beautiful voices.
I groggily pushed myself up as I was lying on my stomach. I tried to remember getting here.
Last I had recalled I was going to speak to Lord Elrond about the insidious dream.
I also seemed to recall something about a surgery.
My back! I rolled over and brought a hand to my injury. It was bandaged and mostly numb. There were strange pullings.
Sighing, I lay back. How could this be?
Rubbing my face......yes, I remember Lord Elrond and lying on a table.
Did we discuss the dream?
I could not recall.
Closing my eyes again, I tried to relax. And with a small start of surprise, I found I could. I did not feel the pull of anxiety or fear.
Perhaps I did discuss the dream with the elf.
While I lay there trying to orient myself, Lord Elrond came in, bearing a goblet. His elvish silence is most unnerving. I sat up as I did not want him to think me weak and soft. I thought suddenly of my father and what he would think of me being coddled by a stranger.
Perhaps I would save this part of my report for later. As an addendum.
"Boromir. How are you feeling?" The elf asked, his eyes sharp and assessing.
"I am well. I thank you for your care."
"The wounds were infected Boromir, I am amazed you were on your feet as long as you were." He handed me the goblet.
"They were of no consequence. I have had worse," I said as I swallowed the medicine, as vile a brew as before.
I looked up at the healer and then looked down quickly as I set aside the goblet. Knowing that he must be ignorant of the fact that we men of Gondor do not indulge in rest for every little cut and scrape, I said quietly. 'Again, I thank you."
"You are welcome."
The elven lord turned from me and then brought a chair over to my bedside. I was slightly alarmed: he carried the high backed heavily carved piece in one hand with no strain.
The wood must be lighter than it looked.
Sitting gracefully, he said quietly, "I have been remiss in my attentions to you as a guest Boromir. We have had no time to discuss this dream you have mentioned that brings you to far Imladris from your home in the South."
"As you said earlier, you have other visitors and one has been gravely ill. Does he recover?"
"As well as he might. Every day is an improvement."
I nodded.
Swallowing, I found myself taken by nerves, which made me angry as I was no softhearted courtier.
Trying to organize my thoughts, I blinked when I felt the warm hand of the elf on my forehead.
"I am not feverish." I pulled away, but the hand stayed put a moment and I found myself sighing and sinking back into the pillows, my fears drifting away. The hand slowly lifted.
"Now you are not."
Taking a deep breath, I looked into the unusual grey eyes of my host. They seemed very, they were..they were dark and deep like a cave with no end and I found I was unable to stop staring into their depths.
"Tell me Boromir, son of Denethor, why have you come?"
"I-I, my brother and I have had this dream." I started slowly, but my words moved faster as if a dam had burst. "The same one! For me, I cannot get it out of my head, it would not leave me be and drove me on, giving me terrible headaches and my father told me to seek you out as you were an accomplished lore master." I still could not turn my eyes away from his, and found no fear or anxiety lurking at the edges of my mind.
Elrond smiled slightly and said, "Tell me of this dream."
Aghast, I found my natural caution overwhelmed and once more a flood of words came forth.
I told him of the Sword that was Broken and the Councils to be taken and the Doom...It all poured out of me until there was nothing more to be said.
My head felt empty, as if a poison had been drawn from it.
I had not realized I was sitting forward on the bed, hands clasped before me as I recited my mind's horror.
When I finished, Elrond leaned towards me and again put his hand to my brow and I once more sank back into the pillows, not questioning his motion.
Drained, my eyes were heavy as if weighted down by pebbles. I inelegantly yawned.
But my host made no notice of it and stood.
Snared again by the elf lord's remarkable eyes, I felt myself falling and it seemed as if it took sometime before I stopped, and the dark I sank into, for once, was welcoming.
And then sleep overcame me.
Another morning in Imladris.
But on this one, I did not rise with anxiety driven by a need to outdistance my own thoughts.
I lay in bed and decided, that this morning and perhaps some of the afternoon, I would rest.
I realized with a lifting of my spirit that my running was over.
I had delivered to this unsettling Lord of Imladris a dream whose presence had finally been banished to the world of the merely interesting and removed from the dark invasion of relentless pursuit.
The elf had listened to my dream and though he did not say much, the mere telling of it lessened its hold on me. Until I could think of it and not be awash in pain and anxiety.
He had not interpreted it, saying only that the retelling and unraveling of it must be saved for a more formal occasion where the others who had gathered here needed to be made aware of its significance.
I was relieved when he said that.
For all the time that I carried the burden of this dream, I was afraid in my heart of hearts that it would be revealed to be the fancy of an indeed troubled mind. And one not worthy to be a Steward of Gondor.
I know my father would be satisfied with my travels if I returned home with the interpretation of this dream, which would hopefully bring glory to Gondor as well.
I felt so light hearted I almost laughed aloud, but not wanting anyone to think me silly, I smiled broadly instead.
Looking around, my grin grew larger.
There was breakfast and, I noticed pleased, a breakfast fit for a Man: eggs and meat and two rolls glistening with honey and butter. And I doubted it not, that the tall goblet held ale.
I sat up and grabbed the cup, whose sides ran with moisture and drank deeply of the light elvish ale.
Perhaps I would get up this afternoon and walk the halls of the House, not in fear or suspicion but proudly, as a guest whose purpose would be revealed by and by, not only to himself, but to the unknown others that awaited the dream's message.
And I would proudly tell them all that Boromir, son of Denethor was no longer a seeker in the dark, but a traveler whose tale would shed light on the councils to come.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~the end~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was in my room. And alone . It was late twilight as near as I could tell. A branch of candles stood lighted at my bedside and there was a fire burning in the grate. Above the sound of water, I could hear singing again. The elves certainly had beautiful voices.
I groggily pushed myself up as I was lying on my stomach. I tried to remember getting here.
Last I had recalled I was going to speak to Lord Elrond about the insidious dream.
I also seemed to recall something about a surgery.
My back! I rolled over and brought a hand to my injury. It was bandaged and mostly numb. There were strange pullings.
Sighing, I lay back. How could this be?
Rubbing my face......yes, I remember Lord Elrond and lying on a table.
Did we discuss the dream?
I could not recall.
Closing my eyes again, I tried to relax. And with a small start of surprise, I found I could. I did not feel the pull of anxiety or fear.
Perhaps I did discuss the dream with the elf.
While I lay there trying to orient myself, Lord Elrond came in, bearing a goblet. His elvish silence is most unnerving. I sat up as I did not want him to think me weak and soft. I thought suddenly of my father and what he would think of me being coddled by a stranger.
Perhaps I would save this part of my report for later. As an addendum.
"Boromir. How are you feeling?" The elf asked, his eyes sharp and assessing.
"I am well. I thank you for your care."
"The wounds were infected Boromir, I am amazed you were on your feet as long as you were." He handed me the goblet.
"They were of no consequence. I have had worse," I said as I swallowed the medicine, as vile a brew as before.
I looked up at the healer and then looked down quickly as I set aside the goblet. Knowing that he must be ignorant of the fact that we men of Gondor do not indulge in rest for every little cut and scrape, I said quietly. 'Again, I thank you."
"You are welcome."
The elven lord turned from me and then brought a chair over to my bedside. I was slightly alarmed: he carried the high backed heavily carved piece in one hand with no strain.
The wood must be lighter than it looked.
Sitting gracefully, he said quietly, "I have been remiss in my attentions to you as a guest Boromir. We have had no time to discuss this dream you have mentioned that brings you to far Imladris from your home in the South."
"As you said earlier, you have other visitors and one has been gravely ill. Does he recover?"
"As well as he might. Every day is an improvement."
I nodded.
Swallowing, I found myself taken by nerves, which made me angry as I was no softhearted courtier.
Trying to organize my thoughts, I blinked when I felt the warm hand of the elf on my forehead.
"I am not feverish." I pulled away, but the hand stayed put a moment and I found myself sighing and sinking back into the pillows, my fears drifting away. The hand slowly lifted.
"Now you are not."
Taking a deep breath, I looked into the unusual grey eyes of my host. They seemed very, they were..they were dark and deep like a cave with no end and I found I was unable to stop staring into their depths.
"Tell me Boromir, son of Denethor, why have you come?"
"I-I, my brother and I have had this dream." I started slowly, but my words moved faster as if a dam had burst. "The same one! For me, I cannot get it out of my head, it would not leave me be and drove me on, giving me terrible headaches and my father told me to seek you out as you were an accomplished lore master." I still could not turn my eyes away from his, and found no fear or anxiety lurking at the edges of my mind.
Elrond smiled slightly and said, "Tell me of this dream."
Aghast, I found my natural caution overwhelmed and once more a flood of words came forth.
I told him of the Sword that was Broken and the Councils to be taken and the Doom...It all poured out of me until there was nothing more to be said.
My head felt empty, as if a poison had been drawn from it.
I had not realized I was sitting forward on the bed, hands clasped before me as I recited my mind's horror.
When I finished, Elrond leaned towards me and again put his hand to my brow and I once more sank back into the pillows, not questioning his motion.
Drained, my eyes were heavy as if weighted down by pebbles. I inelegantly yawned.
But my host made no notice of it and stood.
Snared again by the elf lord's remarkable eyes, I felt myself falling and it seemed as if it took sometime before I stopped, and the dark I sank into, for once, was welcoming.
And then sleep overcame me.
Another morning in Imladris.
But on this one, I did not rise with anxiety driven by a need to outdistance my own thoughts.
I lay in bed and decided, that this morning and perhaps some of the afternoon, I would rest.
I realized with a lifting of my spirit that my running was over.
I had delivered to this unsettling Lord of Imladris a dream whose presence had finally been banished to the world of the merely interesting and removed from the dark invasion of relentless pursuit.
The elf had listened to my dream and though he did not say much, the mere telling of it lessened its hold on me. Until I could think of it and not be awash in pain and anxiety.
He had not interpreted it, saying only that the retelling and unraveling of it must be saved for a more formal occasion where the others who had gathered here needed to be made aware of its significance.
I was relieved when he said that.
For all the time that I carried the burden of this dream, I was afraid in my heart of hearts that it would be revealed to be the fancy of an indeed troubled mind. And one not worthy to be a Steward of Gondor.
I know my father would be satisfied with my travels if I returned home with the interpretation of this dream, which would hopefully bring glory to Gondor as well.
I felt so light hearted I almost laughed aloud, but not wanting anyone to think me silly, I smiled broadly instead.
Looking around, my grin grew larger.
There was breakfast and, I noticed pleased, a breakfast fit for a Man: eggs and meat and two rolls glistening with honey and butter. And I doubted it not, that the tall goblet held ale.
I sat up and grabbed the cup, whose sides ran with moisture and drank deeply of the light elvish ale.
Perhaps I would get up this afternoon and walk the halls of the House, not in fear or suspicion but proudly, as a guest whose purpose would be revealed by and by, not only to himself, but to the unknown others that awaited the dream's message.
And I would proudly tell them all that Boromir, son of Denethor was no longer a seeker in the dark, but a traveler whose tale would shed light on the councils to come.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~the end~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~