"What Might Have Been"
by Beryll
The grave is a simple one. No ornate statue to commemorate the fallen hero of Gondor. Just a simple headstone engraved with your name, your title. It is an empty grave. Your body was taken by great Anduin, carried out to the sea to pass into legend.
Still it is one of the most often visited graves of all of Minas Tirith. The people come here, to thank you for your bravery, to praise your name, to bow their heads to their prince. And they come to tell you of their sorrows, to ask your protection on a dangerous journey, to tell you of their happiness, to tell you of the peace that you have gifted them with.
There are always fresh flowers on your grave. And small gifts that the children bring. There is a cloth doll sitting against your headstone today, and I cannot help but wonder, what you think of this, should you be watching now.
Do you approve of the legend they are weaving about you? Or do you still feel you have failed them, like you told my husband when you passed from this life. You have not failed your people, Boromir of Gondor, but you have left behind so many, who have loved you.
Last night at the high table I listened to the lady Eowyn telling your brother of how she loved you. Not like a woman loves a man, but as a child worshipping a hero. Did you even know what you were to her? When you visited Rohan, many years ago, when she was still just a child, she thought you the greatest man. She sat on your knee during dinner then and you told her of fighting orcs. You gave her an old dagger that she treasures to this day. Had you not planted a warrior's spirit in her heart then, who knows if she would have had the strength to slay the Nazgul king?
Your brother listened and smiled but there was still sadness in his eyes. You know he loved you, I am sure. He does not speak of you often, but he comes here at least once a week to tell you of Gondor. To tell you of the new life spreading through your beloved home. He tells you of Ithilien, of the freedom and happiness of your people. He tells you how he misses you, how much you would have deserved to witness your dreams come true. To witness peace.
And then there is my beloved Estel. Did you ever realize how much he loved you? Was he just an affair on the road or did you love him as deeply as he loved you? He cried for you, you know. I have never seen him cry before. He didn't cry when his father or mother died, he didn't even cry when my father told him I would never be his. He never cried for me. But he cried when he confessed his love for you to me.
He told me how you died in his arms, how he held on to you. How he realized that you had taken a part of his heart with you and that this part would now forever remain cold and dead.
And I held him and granted my forgiveness and comfort. For how could I be jealous of a dead man?
But I wonder, what were you really like? Were you the hero they now make of you? Estel told me of your weakness too, of how you betrayed the quest and still reclaimed your honor in the end.
I saw you in Rivendell, but my mind and heart were with my beloved, fearing for his safety in the coming perils. I did not pay attention to the rough human warrior I considered of no consequence for my further life.
Now I listen to them mourn your passing, watch them miss you and I wonder if I would have liked you. How bad can you have been when my Estel loved you? Maybe we would have been friends. Maybe you would have been the new king's strong arm as your brother now is his sharp mind and I am his heart and soul. Maybe I would have liked you enough to share my beloved husband?
But I will never know. I never knew you and all I can do is mourn what might have been.
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Beryll