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Title: May the Valar Protect You

By SpicyRoses

Genres: Adventure/ Drama

Rating: T

Summary: After the battle at Amon Hen, Boromir awakes hearing voices. Will he succeed in helping Aragorn to the throne? Or does Sauron have other plans for him? The fates of many are about to be changed… [AU]

Important Author Notes: I have to admit it-my muse is odd. One day I’ll be thrilled about a fanfic, the next day I’ll wishy-washy about it. Please bear with me, as I know that I have tried to do a Boromir lives fic, and failed…mostly because it was horrible in the first place (at least, that’s what I thought.) Hopefully this one will live up to more of my expectations, and yours. Just note that the chapters will vary in length.

1. ‘The Voices of Mortals’

x

‘Is he awake?’ asked a melodic voice. ‘Eru said he would-” The first voice was interrupted by another, more excited, one.

‘He tries to fight it off, but look! He’s stirring.”

Boromir was indeed being roused by the voices. Though a strong fighter, Boromir found himself wishing that he would just be left alone. Could they not just go away?

‘Perhaps we should go find some athelas? asked the first voice.

There was a pause. Boromir sighed in relief, and pressed his head further into the cushion. Wait-a cushion? In Amon Hen?

Where was Frodo? And Aragor-?

Boromir’s thoughts were interrupted by a splash of water. The water trickled down his chest. Suddenly, there was a blazing pain his chest, forcing his hazel eyes to open.

“Oh, good. Your awake,” said the second voice.

Boromir’s eyes darted about, taking everything in. His chest, bound by strips of cloth, was in a numbed sort of pain. He wore some sort of leggings-Elvish or manmade, he couldn’t say. He was indeed lying on some sort of bed…it was perhaps the comfiest bed he’d ever slept on.

And the light…it was such an odd light. It was green, yet not green enough to make your eyes sore. He frowned. He still hadn’t seen the people that the voices belonged to.

“Aaah, I think he wants to meet us,” said the excited voice. “Pity that he can’t.”

“Why can’t I?” asked the Gondorian. The idea of not seeing something that was supposedly there was uncanny, to say the least.

There was a moment’s pause.

“To make it simple,” replied the voice, “I will say that you’re between the halls of Mandos, and the living.”

Boromir blinked.

“But then where are you?”

“In Mandos…more or less. We’re not supposed to let you in yet.”

“Who's ‘we’?”

Another pause.

“We are Valar.” This time it was the first, melodic voice.

It was an odd experience, speaking to someone who wasn’t really there. And Boromir felt rather foolish, but he couldn’t help, but ask questions. Besides…not many people, or creatures for that matter, claimed to be Valar. It was utterly sacrilegious.

Boromir opened his mouth, and then closed it again.

“He wants to know why we’re doing what we’re doing, and what happened since he’s not allowed in Mandos,” said a new, bored voice.

“Quiet true,” chimed in the second voice. “They always want to know when this happens. You can’t exactly blame them, though.”

Denethor’s son shifted uncomfortably in the bed.

“Well, son of Denethor,” said the bored voice, “listen carefully and listen well. Your task in Middle Earth is yet to be finished. Many stories are still yet to be told. You will not make the same mistakes this time.”

This time.

He was getting a second chance. Boromir clenched his fists as unbidden thoughts about his fight with Frodo came into his mind. Don’t think about it….don’t think about it…

Don’t-

A cold something pressed against his forehead. Was it a hand or a cloth? He couldn't tell.

“Be at peace, son of Gondor.” He couldn’t tell which voice it was this time. They seemed to mix into each other, and echoing. The green light was starting to fade, and he could hear the rushing water of the Anduin.

Far off in the dense forest, a bird welcomed the new day.

He was back.