First post to Rugbytackle

[zillah975]

I've been reading the wonderful stories Rugbytackle for so long, I felt it was incumbent upon me to post one myself. I feel a little like a slacker because I didn't write something new, but my head is full of two multi-chapter stories I've been working on and I've not been able to tear myself loose from those, so I thought I'd post this one, which I still like even weeks and weeks after writing it. I hope it meets the criteria, and I hope y'all enjoy it.

Title: Bitter As Blood
Author: zillah975
Rating: G
Non-slash
Summary: movieverse - in a dark moment on Caradhras, Boromir reflects on the difficulties he faces, and the irony of his situation.
Archive: Henneth Annun, Tower of Ecthelion, The Hidden Archives of Middle Earth, my own site; all others please ask.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just think about them far too much. I'm making no money off this.


Bitter As Blood

His hand is on the hilt.

He thinks I do not see.

I see.


The ringbearer had fallen. Perilous paths, these snowy cliffs we walk, and I would not have had us come this way. Too easy for a misstep to take a man over the edge. The snow lies in even drifts, untouched but for where our footsteps mark it, smoothing the treacherous rocks into white purity, soft, deceptive. And all of us are weary. The sun overhead bakes our backs, blinds us, the ice beneath us freezes, and we make each step with the faith of those who have no choice, the faith that this will not be the step that breaks through the brilliance into darkness, sends us plummeting into some hidden chasm, to die quickly on the rocks, or slowly, abandoned by comrades who could effect no rescue, and would have no choice but to go on.

Faith that this is not our day.

The ringbearer fell, his broad feet betraying him or his pack too loaded for his small frame, and the snow is broken, a turmoil, the ringbearer at the feet of my would-be King. He fell not into darkness. Not yet.

And a glint of gold in the sunlight.

How the chain could have slipped from around his neck, I do not know. It seems to grow at times, other times to shrink, as does its song. I hear it in my heart, this fiery golden impossibility, Isildur's bane. That I should fall to it is an irony which would make me smile were it not so difficult to bear. Isildur, but for whose weakness the line of Stewards might never have governed, nor I have come to be here. Kings to rule Gondor all these long years.

And now Isildur's heir is come, and the bane that should be his is mine, in trade for my people, my City, my home. I feel it like the baking sun above, like the cold that seeps in through my boots and freezes my skin. It is a tangible thing, this knowledge that Isildur's doom is my own. Were I a poet, I might see how it binds me to his kin, his kin who watches me now with a look of death. This glittering thing in my hand.

I had not meant to pick it up. Were it lost here, through chance or dark design, then surely the fires of the Enemy would burn the world to ash, but even so, I had not meant to touch it. Even as I leaned to take the chain between my fingers, it was as if I did not move, but merely waited, and it came to me.

Such a little thing.

Had the ancestor of this man who now watches me so warily but cast it away when he could, I would not be here now, this evil calling to me, swearing that I am strong enough, I can tame it, I can wield it. I can save us, when the one who should come will not. Gondor whole, and I at home. My White City, her gardens in bloom again, the blood of her children passed to their heirs, not to the field of battle. Oh, the song is sweet.

And his voice cuts through it, dark as his visage, here in this desolate, sunblasted waste. He is a shadow, a black thing in the blinding whiteness of the mountain, and his gaze calls me enemy.

It is not I who am the enemy, but despair. The despair born of long years watching my City fall, my soldiers die. Watching widows and children grieve, while I can do nothing but speak words of comfort and mourning, bitter as blood in my mouth.

This one has not bled for me, has not bled for Gondor. I know him not. Neither king, nor brother, nor enemy, nor captain. Neither friend, but mistrustful comrade, worse than none.

And between us, the glitter of power, and his hand on the hilt of his sword.

He thinks I do not see.


I see.

Comments

[cinzia.livejournal.com]

Oh, you captured Boromir's voice beautifully! And this line,
This one has not bled for me, has not bled for Gondor. I know him not. Neither king, nor brother, nor enemy, nor captain.
this is stunning. *awed*
Please, post more of your stories? Pretty pretty please? :)

[zillah975]

Thank you very much for your kind words! I have to say, when I saw that scene in the movie, I couldn't get over the idea that Aragorn thought he might draw on Boromir - and the expressiveness of Sean Bean's face and eyes just haunted me. Aragorn seems so ... cold, there, I guess, and Boromir so vulnerable. It breaks my heart almost as surely as Amon Hen. And I will indeed try to write more for Rugbytackle - something new even (it'll give me an excuse to get away from the other two behemoths that are using up my brainpower). :) Thank you again!

[cruisedirector]

This is beautiful -- the language, the idea of despair as an enemy, Boromir's grief. Absolutely lovely and wrenching.

[zillah975]

Thank you so much for taking the time to comment - I'm very glad you liked the story! It's always seemed to me that Boromir would almost have to have had a fairly heavy heart throughout their journey, and I'm pleased if this little vignette helps show that. Thank you again for letting me know what you thought!

[cruisedirector]

I wish there were some way to write happy Boromir fic convincingly but I've seen very little of it -- Aragorn may be rightfully king of Gondor but Boromir is rightfully king of angst!

[zillah975]

Hee! He has a lot to angst about, bless his heart. But I think happy Boromir fic can be done convincingly - I'm not sure what the trick is, and I suppose writing a convincing Boromir fic that's all happy would be unlikely, but I do think a mostly happy one can be done. I wrote one for a pal on Henneth Annun called Charcoal, Stone, And Cloud that is, if not happy, at least sort of relaxed. It actually spawned one of my favorite stories by one of my favorite writers, called All Of Them Together - admittedly, Boromir is a toddler and Aragorn is Thorongil, but it's ... well, okay, bittersweet, but hey. The ending of that story will be more poignant, I think, if you know that the author refers to Boromir and Faramir as the Blade of Gondor and the Raven of Ithilien. That actually struck such a chord with me in Breathe that I asked if I could use it for one of my own stories. She graciously agreed, then wrote "All Of Them Together" for me. I love the LOTR fanfiction community. :)

[cruisedirector]

Oh my god, I ditzed on the fact that you wrote "Charcoal, Stone, And Cloud"! That's the one where they're watching the clouds, right? I think ribby was the one who told me to read that awhile ago. I love that story! (Am too much of a slasher to enjoy Thorongil/Toddler Boromir, which for some reason turns on my incest alarms more loudly than Boromir/Faramir...yes, I know this is weird. *g*) I was actually never a fan of the books until I saw FOTR, so for me movie canon is cemented in my fantasies and the books are embellishment...definitely skews my take on the characters somewhat from those of book fans.

[zillah975]

*blush* People who didn't beta me are recommending my stories? People whose writing I dig have been recommending my stories to people whose writing I dig? Wow - I'm all flustered now! In a very nice way.

And y'know, once I figured out that Aragorn probably babysat Boromir it took me a little while not to sort of cringe ever so slightly at my fave slash pairing. But I got over it. After all, people often wind up in relationships with people young enough that they could have babysat them, and, well, as long as it's not Boromir/Thorongil slash (or, if it is, as long as it's in an AU in which Thorongil comes back to Minas Tirith after Boromir comes of age), I'm good with it.

Regarding movie vs. book, I have a hard time keeping them separate. I have to research a lot when I'm writing bookverse, because the movie is rather fixed in my mind too, despite having loved the books for years.

I blame Sean and Viggo. :)

[przed.livejournal.com]

You've really done an outstanding job at capturing Boromir's despair and his desire to aid his city. The language is extraordinary. This line gave me chills:
the blood of her children passed to their heirs, not to the field of battle.

[zillah975]

Thank you so much! I've been enjoying the stories here a great deal, I'm very glad if I can give a little something back. :) I really appreciate your taking the time to read it and to let me know you liked it.

[lavingaround.livejournal.com]

Thanks. This was wonderful and moving. Love the images. Especially

'It is not I who am the enemy, but despair. The despair born of long years watching my City fall, my soldiers die. Watching widows and children grieve, while I can do nothing but speak words of comfort and mourning, bitter as blood in my mouth.'

Love the way Boromir knows he's in the grip of it. His desperation and his passion, I really felt throughout this. Terrific.

[zillah975]

I've always thought Boromir was more self-aware than he's often given credit for, and I'm glad that came through in this piece. Thanks very much for taking the time to comment - I'm glad you liked it!

[tyaa.livejournal.com]

Absolutely amazing. Chills. I think you have really nailed Boromir's voice, and I'd love to hear more.

[zillah975]

Thank you! Just about everything I write is pretty Boromir-centric. If you click on my username and go to my website, you'll find most of what I've written. I hope to write more original stuff for Rugbytackle - a little reluctant to continue posting fics I've already had published elsewhere, but I did want to give a little something back for the great stuff I've been enjoying here. Soon, soon, when I can dig out from under the pile of work that's buried me....

[jennandanica.livejournal.com]

wow. this is beautiful. you convey boromir's weariness, his despair and resentment so well. esp liked this

This one has not bled for me, has not bled for Gondor. I know him not. Neither king, nor brother, nor enemy, nor captain. Neither friend, but mistrustful comrade, worse than none.

so glad you decided to post to the community. welcome. and i'd love to see more...

[zillah975]

Thank you so much! I'm very glad you liked it, and I hope to write more. I'm currently being consumed by a fairly long AU (Undertow), but I hope to be able to write some original stuff for Rugbytackle soon. I keep trying to write slash, just 'cause it seems like all the cool kids around here are doing it so astonishingly well, but I fear I have no knack for writing sex. Alas. But I hope to write something worthwhile soon.... And thank you very much for the kind welcome. :)