My First Fic
Here's my first fan-fic. Inspired by Victoria's Lyric-inspiration contest.
Lyric Inspiration:
Many times I've lied, and many times I've listened
And many times I've wondered how much there is to know
"Over the Hills and Far Away" - Led Zeppelin
Surrender
by fleurdeleo
Boromir noticed the silence on the ninth night of his journey. Not the forest’s silence, because the wind rustled the leaves and the animals called and cried around him. The fire within the circle of rocks near where he lay snapped and sparked. Occupied with his basic needs for warmth and light, and always focused on battles and the strategies in his head, he had never noticed the sound of a campfire.
The silence was in him, and it had come after a fierce struggle, the way stillness follows the final clang and slide of sword on sword. He had surrendered. To save his sanity (and, he admitted, his pride, for turning back to face his father and his brother was unthinkable), he had abandoned his hand-drawn maps and the cryptic passages copied from ancient texts. Then, he laid down his strongest weapon: the force of his own will. If desire and drive alone counted, he would have cut down every tree and dug through each mountain in Middle Earth to get to Rivendell. But on the ninth day, driving his horse headlong to nowhere, with every beat of his heart he heard the wind cry, “you will fail.”
He closed his eyes, and the fire’s warmth seemed stronger on his face. An illusion, he knew, but for once he didn’t analyze and dismiss the sensation. He thought of his brother, and his heart ached with regret and affection. This journey belonged to Faramir; in every way, he was more suited to the task. This was far from the first time that Boromir won a battle only to realize that his brother might have done it better. In countless ways, his brother was the worthier man; and the only two people who did not see this were his father and Faramir. Boromir accepted this without bitterness, knowing full well that he, himself, would never change-any more than Theoden’s horses would slow their pace in deference to any creature.
Tonight, near the glow and the music of the fire, Boromir broke the new silence in his heart with two words: words that he had not used since before he could remember. He did not know to whom he spoke, but finally he whispered, “help me,” before he slept at last.
Lyric Inspiration:
Many times I've lied, and many times I've listened
And many times I've wondered how much there is to know
"Over the Hills and Far Away" - Led Zeppelin
Surrender
by fleurdeleo
Boromir noticed the silence on the ninth night of his journey. Not the forest’s silence, because the wind rustled the leaves and the animals called and cried around him. The fire within the circle of rocks near where he lay snapped and sparked. Occupied with his basic needs for warmth and light, and always focused on battles and the strategies in his head, he had never noticed the sound of a campfire.
The silence was in him, and it had come after a fierce struggle, the way stillness follows the final clang and slide of sword on sword. He had surrendered. To save his sanity (and, he admitted, his pride, for turning back to face his father and his brother was unthinkable), he had abandoned his hand-drawn maps and the cryptic passages copied from ancient texts. Then, he laid down his strongest weapon: the force of his own will. If desire and drive alone counted, he would have cut down every tree and dug through each mountain in Middle Earth to get to Rivendell. But on the ninth day, driving his horse headlong to nowhere, with every beat of his heart he heard the wind cry, “you will fail.”
He closed his eyes, and the fire’s warmth seemed stronger on his face. An illusion, he knew, but for once he didn’t analyze and dismiss the sensation. He thought of his brother, and his heart ached with regret and affection. This journey belonged to Faramir; in every way, he was more suited to the task. This was far from the first time that Boromir won a battle only to realize that his brother might have done it better. In countless ways, his brother was the worthier man; and the only two people who did not see this were his father and Faramir. Boromir accepted this without bitterness, knowing full well that he, himself, would never change-any more than Theoden’s horses would slow their pace in deference to any creature.
Tonight, near the glow and the music of the fire, Boromir broke the new silence in his heart with two words: words that he had not used since before he could remember. He did not know to whom he spoke, but finally he whispered, “help me,” before he slept at last.