Sorry the update took so long after such a short chapter. I was just nervous as hell(still am!) and kept checking it..anyway, *deep breath* here goes!

Disclaimer: I own none of LOTR - it is entirely Tolkien's genius. And any dialogue and such from the movies are credit to P. Jackson and Co.

The soldier's head lifted wearily as he heard her approach, and she saw the sheen of sweat across his pale, dirtied face. "Boromir!" She cried, stumbling to a stop before him. His body sagged more still when she reached him and she grasped his arms, straining to hold him up. "Boromir..sit, my lord, sit. Rest. The battle is over." His legs gladly gave out, and she carefully lowered him to the forest floor.

"I am..sorry. I tried." His low voice was thick, and he choked his words out painfully.

"Tried? Boromir you defeated far more than any would believe! And you are still trying, for these pathetic darts will not be the end!"

"They took the little ones." He gasped, ignoring her words and his gloved hand grasping her sleeve. "The Halflings are gone."

Alandria paled. "The hobbits? Frodo? And the Ring?"

"No." He shook his head, swallowing down pain. "My charges. Merry. Pippin. They took them. I tried to..to protect them, but could not. I am not strong enough."

"You are stronger than any expected, my lord. Do not think otherwise. You are strong." Her left hand cradled his neck, the other clasped in his fingers, slick with his blood. "The others will be here soon, and then we must-"

"I tried to take it." He interrupted, pulling her closer, pale eyes tormented and full of pain.

"Take what?" She asked, already fearing she knew the answer.

"The Ring." His voice was thicker still, breathing too heavy. "I tried to take it from Frodo. I am sorry. I have paid."

"No!" She cried, grasping his hand tighter, pulling it to her chest. "No you have not, because you need not. You did not take the Ring. You alone fought bravely to save the hobbits. You are strong, my lord of Gondor, and there is no regret you should hold. You will pay nothing. Come, stand, we will have Aragorn heal you, and then we will find the hobbits." She stood, and tried to help him up, but he pulled away from her with a grunt.

"I am too weak, and too..tired. I cannot walk like this. We...don't have the time for me to heal, the hobbits..are already far ahead of us. Find the others and..go."

"No my lord! I will not leave you. Just let us try to heal you, please." She reached for an arrow but her fingers barely touched it when his own large hands encompassed hers, pulling them away.

"No Alandria, don't. It is pointless."

"But they are just a couple of arrows! Weaker men have survived worse!" She argued desperately, not liking what she saw in the grey-blue eyes before her.

"I was forced to continue my fighting even with the arrows in me. They are...too deep. It does not matter anymore. I have..paid for my greed."

"You owe no one and nothing a debt! You did not take the Ring!"

His eyes met her gaze and locked, his jaw clenching before he spoke. "I would have killed Frodo, milday, had I caught him." He saw her eyes widen, and felt her grip on his hands loosen, her body lean slightly away, before she shook her head.

"No you wouldn't. You wouldn't."

"I wanted to. I could see it happen in my mind: I could..easily strangle him. Kill him. Take the Ring, and use it...use it.." He bit off his words and turned away, swallowing the bitter blood that was filling his mouth.

"No." She shook her head again, her eyes blurred with hot tears. "No you wouldn't have. I know it. I do." He cannot be saved.

"This is only my payment for such desires...my lady. There is no stopping it, I know that. Just please, if...you see my brother, tell him I am..sorry. Tell him, I loved him.."

"Stop! Boromir, please, stop your talk of death and ends! I will not let you pass!" She cried out again, shaking the hands that held hers and pulling them both to her chest, kissing the bloodied fingertips. "You must stay!"

He shook his head slightly, pain in every nerve with every movement, holes being burned where the arrows lie in his chest. "I can't, my lady...too much pain.."

"You can! You are strong, my lord! Arrows will not be your end!" She insisted, but he merely turned his face away. "Please Boromir!" Her voice cracked from the surge of tears that had begun to seep from her, wetting their clasped hands. "Remember your brother, and your father! Remember your Gondor! Live for them, lord..please.." Her pleadings continued but he did not reply, his breaths slow and faint, pale droplets of rain falling from his stormy gaze. Alandria held tighter to his hands, before glancing at the quiet around them. "Aragorn!" She screamed, voice choked with her tears. "Aragorn!" She gasped back the water in her eyes, and stared down at the man below her, his features pale and drawn, sweaty and dirty. His eyes were weakening. "Hold on, Boromir. Just please hold on." She leaned forward and touched her lips to his but for a moment, before footsteps through the forest alerted her.

"Alandria?" The soft voice of the Ranger called, and his dark figure dashed into view, followed closely by Legolas and then Gimli. "Why have y- Boromir!" He hurried forward, dropping to his knees beside Alandria. "Boromir.." He breathed, his eyes falling upon the wounds that his comrade bore. Urgently, he grasped an arrow, only to be stopped the same as Alandria.

"Don't!" The Gondorian choked through the new wave of pain. "It is useless."

Before Aragorn could reply, Alandria cried desperately, "Help him Aragorn! He is hurt - you can heal him!"

"Boromir," The Ranger started, but the other man's deep words silenced him.

"The arrows are deep. The wounds..cannot be healed. Not even by you. Do not bother."

"You know not whether they can be healed. Let me try, Boromir. There is a chance."

"No!" The soldier snapped, as an arrow was reached for yet again. He panted heavily, painfully. "It is injuries deserved, Aragorn. The Ring, I...I tried to take it..from Frodo.."

"I know." The Ranger replied softly, to both Alandria and Boromir's numb surprise. "I found him. He is leaving to finish the journey alone."

Boromir nodded once in approval. "You are stronger than I, then."

"Nay." Aragorn shook his head, his own eyes glistening. "You are strong. You can heal and-"

"No, Aragorn." The Gondorian interrupted softly. "I cannot and you have not the time to try. I have..brought this upon myself. Such deeds and thoughts of mine can only be repaid...with life. You must carry on the journey." Aragorn continued to gaze down at his fallen friend, and Alandria noticed an unnerving look pass between them, before the dark-haired man slowly nodded. Boromir bowed his head slightly. "My king."

Alandria's eyes burned with wet fire and she shook her head in resistance. "No! No Boromir, no! Everyone can be forgiven! You must live!" Her voice was strained, breaking, and she fought for control that would not come.

"Please Aragorn, take her from my side. She has seen too much death already." His skin was paler yet, blood a vibrant line along his lips, continuing to pulse from the black arrows still wedged in his breast and ribs. Alandria began to argue again, but stopped as a surprisingly firm hand gripped her's. "I am not the journey, my lady. Remember Frodo and the Ring...Remember Middle-earth." He swallowed, fighting for a less painful breath of air. "Do not lose hope." He fell silent, rich voice saying no more, but the raining, storm-blue eyes spoke words he never would. At Boromir's nod, Aragorn pulled her to her feet. She was numb, until he led her a step away from the shallow-breathing Gondorian. And then every muscle in her body raged against the Ranger, and she screamed to be let go, the dam behind her green gaze finally breaking. Her struggles were powerful with the pain of losing and loss, but Legolas stepped forward to help restrain her and she got nowhere. The man and elf blocked her view of her soldier, and her cries grew more frantic, with no words of comfort to cease them.

"Save him Aragorn!" She cried. "They are but arrows! He does not have to die!"

"We can do nothing, my lady. He wishes not to be saved; I will obey his last prayer." The rugged man replied evenly, struggling to hold her back.

Whispered words drifted through her mind again, words that she had never wanted to hear: He cannot be saved. Her voice rose, screaming with agony and endless sorrow, such as she had never felt before."No! No he cannot die! Let me go - he cannot leave me alone on this journey! He must live! He must!"

"No, my lady! There must be sacrifices. He has made his choice!"

"Have you no repulsion at it? He is not condemned! Please!" She begged, but the Ranger did not answer. He merely held her tighter, so she grew even more desperate. "Your lady at Rivendell - you would do the same to her?" Her words were harsh and unfair, she knew, but did not care.

Aragorn's blue-green eyes hardened for but an instant, and his jaw clenched. "You know not what you speak of." He replied, voice as smooth as always.

"And you know not what I feel! If your lady asked to be let die, you would grant her wish? You would let her perish, knowing you could have stopped-"

"No more! Do not speak of things you do not understand, lady." The Northener's eyes were like stones now, features shadowed. "Boromir will be a loss. But losses will be suffered."

"But I cannot let him go like this!" She pleaded again, struggling uselessly once more, eyes still pouring her pain. "Not when my heart has decided to love-"

"Aragorn." Legolas spoke for the first time, and his soft words gently commanded both their attention. "Let her go." He murmured, releasing his hold. Aragorn did the same without question, and immediately Alandria rushed to her Gondorian's side.

As she came upon his still form, she knew the elf had only let her go because he had known what she now saw - it was too late. All the curses and prayers and pleadings that welled up inside of her struggled to be let out at once, jumbling into senseless cries, hoarse screams. She could only fall to her knees beside his motionless body and let the anguish take her, and wish for anything but this. Her own death, rather than this. Unconsciously, her hands framed his beautiful face and she pulled him to her chest, holding tight to the body of the Steward's son and only screaming louder as the arrows' shafts pressed against her. His once warm skin was cold, and ashen. His beautiful blue-grey eyes were dulled and empty, never again soft or smiling or troubled, only staring unseeingly. She passed a hand over them, closing his gaze to the harsh world. He appeared colorless and faded, save for the red blood that had spilled from his passing. He was gone. She did not hear the screams and cries that shook her body - she did not know that two hobbits on the river heard her pain, and it chilled them through their bones. She did not feel the hot water of agony that poured unceasingly from her eyes, nor the blood that still dripped from her earlier fighting. She felt only a hole forming in her chest; she felt the skin slice open, her ribs crack and split apart, her insides stabbed again and again with a shapeless weapon. She felt the wound that would never heal, just as the memories would never fade away.

How long she sat there, holding the empty body, she did not know. But every second of it was spent praying he would take another breath, and open his eyes. It did not happen. Her voice was hoarse and dry, and her eyes were nearly drained. Time passed by and darkness started to fall, still she did not loosen her hold, continually crying her soldier's name and begging for him to come back. Seeing how she stayed rooted to the spot, Aragorn exchanged a nod with Legolas, and stepped forward to pull the mourning woman to her feet. She struggled again, but it was weak and took only Aragorn to hold her.

"Shh," He murmured, holding her tightly as she fell against his chest. "He is with his forefathers now. He is safe, and would not want you to grieve so. Shh, my lady, shh." Alandria did not answer other than to beat her fists weakly against him, as her cries continued in cracking sobs. "Gimli." The Ranger spoke up. "Empty one of the boats. We have not the time for a proper burial; the Falls must do." The Dwarf nodded in understanding, and turned to empty one of the Lòrien boats, Legolas helping. Aragorn continued to hold her - gently now - as she unceasingly wept, only tightening his hold when she tried to pull away. He had difficulty understanding her immense loyalty to the soldier of Gondor, all the while fearing he knew the true answer too well. Her heart was now broken; he foresaw that it would not ever fully heal.

His two comrades returned then, and he carefully sat the weeping woman upon a fallen tree nearby, then knelt in front of her. "Lady Alandria," He murmured, light eyes seeking to hold hers. "We must move him before darkness falls. The journey cannot be slowed anymore. I am sorry."

Her green eyes stared, unseeing, brimming with anguish and pain of unbearable measure. But they met the Ranger's gaze at last, and slowly understood. She nodded slightly then, and he rested a gentle hand on her arm before standing and moving away. Alandria watched as the man and elf carefully lifted the faded body, then lowered him into the boat. They laid him with his long sword, his silver and ivory horn, his broad, round shield. Aragorn kept the leather vanbraces, imprinted upon them the Tree of Gondor. Legolas then knelt near the Elven casket, and his lips moved slightly in quiet, foreign words. Once done, he moved to let Gimli step forward and murmur his own quiet respects quickly, then let Aragorn do the same.

The Ranger gazed at the still body of the red-haired man in a remaining disbelief; he had never seen this fall coming. He had never expected to lose his fellow man. True, the Gondorian and he did not see clearly eye-to-eye, but they were brothers. And a dying race. "You fell trying to save our hope of survival, my brother." He whispered. "In your memory, I continue." The dark-haired man pressed his lips firmly against the already-cold-forehead of the soldier, and turned away.

Aragorn knelt before the Rohan lady again, and her stare seemed more focused and aware, her tears somehow still running, but silent. "My lady." He murmured gently. "If you wish to say a farewell... we must go soon."

She nodded, standing shakily with his help, croaking hoarsely, "Yes," and wandering numbly to the edge of the water, where her autumn-haired soldier lay. The instant his pale body came into view, what little strength she had found to stand left her, and she collapsed to her knees at his side. He lay on his back in the boat, hands crossed over his breast, sword in their grip, shield and horn at his feet. The blood that had given him color was washed away, and he was clean and cold. His beautiful eyes were forever shut, his breath forever still in his throat. A sob tore at her again, as she was reminded that he would never open his storm-grey gaze or speak to her in his deep, rich voice. Never would he do anything.

Alandria struggled to control herself and be strong, as she knew she should be. Such actions as her's were foolish; she had suffered death before. The other three companions were not beaten with such pain and sorrow as she was, they were silent, strong. She too could be the same. And so she took a shaking breath, gazing into the hard, handsome features of the Gondorian, and slowed her tears. Her hand grazed his autumn-colored hair, and her lips brushed lightly across his, cold and unmoving. She leaned back again with a painful sigh, the wound in her chest still burning and bleeding it felt, and murmured softly to his deaf ears.

"What do I do now, my lord? You tell me..not to give up hope, but how do I keep it when..when you have fallen?" She took another breath, angrily brushing away the tears that fell again with her anguish. "You yourself saw little hope in this journey. Now that you are gone..what do I do? What do I do, now that you have..taken part of me away with your passing?" He did not answer with words or motions, he would never. But a sudden breeze twisted through the air, tossing Alandria's dark braid and stray hairs about, bringing to her the smell of grass and open land. The slight wind peculiar, but she understood - he was showing her hope. He was showing her what there was still to fight for. "Aye, my lord Boromir." She whispered again. "For one country, one person, or for all of Middle-earth...yes. We must continue."

"My lady," Aragorn spoke loudly from a distance away, as he and the other companions waited in earnest.

Alandria nodded, understanding before he spoke, and glanced down at her slain soldier once more. She would have given anything for just a word more from him, a touch, but no. He was forever taken away. She pulled from her wrist then a small, tight bracelet of woven horsehair, both dark and light, and laid it beside the man in his casket. "So I may be with you even in your death." She refrained from touching him again as the pain in her chest hit her once more, and stumbled away quickly, feeling control slipping.

Aragorn met her as she left the boat's side, and his hand on her arm was a useless comfort, she paid no heed to his soft, blue-green stare. "My lady," He said once more, quietly, and held a object out to her. Alandria numbly stared at the dark, red-brown cloak, yet her body trembled and tears came fresh again.

She shook her head, trying to step away, but the Ranger would not let her. "No." She finally choked out, but the man's hold was strong as iron.

"Take it." Aragorn gently encouraged. "To keep him with you."

"He will already be with me too much." She snapped back, but he ignored her, pressing the fur-lined soft cloth into her hands once more.

"Please lady, just take it."

Reluctantly she did, and he nodded, before leaving her alone.

The man, Elf, and Dwarf swiftly took her place at the boat, guiding it carefully and quickly into the water. Aragorn seemed reluctant to let it go, struggling to hold onto the Elven raft for a moment more, until the current tore it from his grip. He waded defeatedly back to shore, where the other two already stood, and they watched their fallen companion drift nearer to the Falls. Alandria sat upon a spot of stone, hands resting upon her raised knees and cautiously cradling the folded winter-cloak of the Steward's son, eyes staring blankly at the dark ground. Soft words touched her ears then, deep and soothing in a haunted tune of song.

"Through Rohan over fen and field, where the long grass grows. The West Wind comes walking and about the walls it goes...What news from the West, oh wandering wind, do you bring to me tonight? Have you seen Boromir the Tall by moon or by starlight?"

It was Lord Aragorn, raising his gentle voice in a farewell tune to their brother, to her love. Pain and despair threatened in her mind again, and she lifted her gaze to the calm waters of the Anduin river, watching the pale Elven boat with rain in her eyes.

"I saw him ride over seven streams, over waters wide and grey. I saw him walk in empty lands, until he passed away...Into the shadows of the North, I saw him then no more. The North Wind may have heard the horn of the son of Denethor.."

The Ranger's words pained her, further splitting the break her chest already bore. It tore into her stomach, devouring her easily with pain she had never imagined bearing. The song was beautiful in the worst way; in the way that tore at her and hurt her more than should have been possible. In the way that brought back every good memory she had of the Steward's son, of every moment they had been together.

"O Boromir! From high walls westward I gazed afar, but you came not from the empty lands where no men are..."

The Elf's voice raised now, more musical and beautiful, less haunting than the Ranger's. "From the mouths of the sea the South wind flies, from the sandhills and the stones...the wailing of the gulls it bears, and at the gate it moans. What news from the South, oh sighing wind, do you bring to me at eve? Where now is Boromir the fair? He tarries and I grieve.."

She closed her eyes to the melancholy song, breathing deeply the painful breaths of loss. The power of song was mighty and it could almost call back the dead - but not quite. For song belongs to the human heart, and even the loving human heart is of less avail than death.* And so she accepted painfully the fact that her Boromir was dead, was gone, and would never return to her. But in his honor she would continue. For she could not give up at a time such as this, not when so much depended upon their journey.

"Ask not of me where he doth dwell, so many bones there lie..on white shores, and dark shores, under the stormy sky. So many have passed down Anduin to find that flowing sea..ask the North Wind, news of them the North Wind sends to me.."

Alandria rose unsteadily to her feet, just as the last glimpse of her soldier disappeared over the Falls of Rauros. Aragorn looked over at her, hearing her rise, and she nodded in return. He mimicked her actions, and then turned to watch the peaceful river again as Legolas finished his verse of the song, leaving the rest for the Ranger. The Lady from the North, but of Rohan, felt hot tears of agony and unproved love wash down her face once more, whispering her final words beneath the dark-haired man's sorrowful song: "For Gondor, for Rohan, for you and all peoples of Middle-earth...until the end of days."

"Snub-nosed are the Immortals, and black," the Ethiops say;

But "No," the Thracians answer, "red-haired, with eyes of grey." **

...what did you all think? I hope no one's too upset about my choice to go the canon-direction with this! I never like seeing/reading Boromir's death, but at the same time, I'm also a firm believer that some of the best romantic endings are tragedies. I hope the quote at the end wasn't horribly random and unnecessary as well. That, and the other quote I used, I read recently in a book and immediately thought of this story with them. But thank you everyone so, so much for reading and reviewing - you really keep the story going, and me writing! Now, if some of you have not lost faith in me, I'd like to announce that I've started a bit on a sequel to this. It was not intended, but the idea came upon me a little over a week ago, and has been growing like a weed since! More than likely, it will soon evolve enough to be posted..Anyone that is particularly interested or curious, just message me and I'll run the plot by you. Again, thank you all so much! I'm beyond thrilled that this, my first LOTR fanfic, was received so well - it's certainly encouraging! Thank you all!! Cheers, Alex

* "The power of song... ..than death."; Micheal Grant, The Myths of the Greeks and Romans

** Xenophanes; from The Myths of the Greeks and Romans, by Micheal Grant