I'm using the number of arrows Boromir was felled with from the movie. It doesn't say how many in the book, so I'm using the only source I know.

The 'headings' are stylistically supposed to be lowercaps, excepting names. The bold writing is when Boromir is getting shot, and the regular writing is the memories.

Boromir's own, controlled thoughts are inside ' '-s. The voice of the Ring in his mind is in italics.

Thank you to Catching Fireflies for Beta-ing this chapter.

Originally a oneshot, now it's going to be a threeshot. One chapter for each arrow.


the first arrow hit him in the shoulder. for some reason, he thought then of the time he hurt Aragorn, and how he himself knew he deserved the wound...

"We must scout ahead," Boromir said to Gandalf, his voice sure. "This place discomforts me. I shall not rest until I see if my discomfort is for good reason." The sound echoed off of the dark, shady stone walls that surrounded them. Boromir had spent his whole life in a stone city, but the darkness of Moria unnerved him and made him restless.

"If you must, Boromir, I shall go with you," said an unexpected voice that was most certainly not Gandalf. And it came from behind Boromir, which startled him, as the one who he had intended to speak to was in front of him. The voice was Aragorn's. His face was calm, but there was an odd look in his eyes. Boromir couldn't quite make it out.

"I do not need your assistance," Boromir said indignantly. The Ring, that is what you want... and you shall receive it. If you but snatch me from Frodo while he slumbers, you shall gain all the power you need to save Gondor... and more. More beyond your imagination. You are annoyed by that Aragorn, self-proclaimed heir of Isildur, are you not? You shall have the power to take his own blade and slit his throat, and his noble blood shall be spilled upon your feet... "No!" Boromir could not help but cry aloud. "No, I must not!" he exclaimed. His heart pounded. Take the Ring... save Gondor... kill Aragorn... What had he been thinking?

It wasn't you, said the voice in his mind. It was me: the Ring, the only thing you desire now...

"Ah, but I could use the stretch," the Ranger persisted. He gave Boromir an odd look. Boromir felt embarrassed for talking to the Ring aloud. "Let us scout ahead, Boromir." Before the Gondorian could protest, Aragorn had grabbed his arm and was all but hauling him off into the darkness.

He cares not of you, Boromir... said the Ring in Boromir's mind. It had a seductive, low voice that Boromir both loved and hated. When he is King of Gondor he shall throw you into the streets, and force you to live the life of a peasant. Boromir nearly shook his head. He tried to ignore the Ring's whispers and focused on not looking like a fool being pulled somewhere not of their own will.

"What do you want of me, Aragorn?" he asked, trying to keep the doubt from creeping into his voice. Aragorn stopped, and pulled Boromir around a half-crumbled wall, shoving him against it. Boromir's broad shoulders were flat against the cold stone. "What is the meaning of this?"

He means to degrade you, to destroy the pride you have left. I thought you'd have realized this, Lord Boromir...

"There is no ill meaning, if that is what you are asking," Aragorn said quietly. Gray eyes met gray eyes as the two men stared at each other. Boromir saw weariness and warning in his companion's eyes. "Boromir," he said. "I can hear it, too... the Ring. It is telling me I must take it, that Isildur's fate will not be mine if I do so. Its words are tempting, but it promises naught."

Boromir found himself shaking his head. "No, you do not understand!" he hissed. "You do not belong to anywhere- naturally this must be a strange thing for you to comprehend. I, on the other hand, belong to the great land of Gondor! It is to Gondor I belong, to Gondor that I am loyal! You can not feel-" The man felt shame as his voice cracked with passion, "-how much I love my land! It is all but immeasurable."

Aragorn nodded, his face not betraying any emotion. "You wish to protect that land," he said. His hands loosened, and Boromir was a bit freer, not as trapped against the wall.

"See, perhaps you do understand!" Boromir said. "The Ring offers protection against the Shadow of Mordor. I have lived my life under that Shadow, Aragorn. I wish to see my city alight with the light of hope and truth! The Ring offers me that. I must only take it!" The last part was practically snarled. Aragorn did not hesitate as he grabbed Boromir's arms and slammed him against the wall. The Steward's heir nearly cried out in pain.

"It is madness, Boromir!" Aragorn said. The men's faces were nearly touching, they were nose-to-nose. Boromir struggled, but Aragorn would not release him. "If I am to let you go, no one knows, not even yourself, what you may do! You might weep and beg for forgiveness. You might grab your sword and decapitate our Ringbearer. You may kill me, who knows?"

And that you shall, Boromir! Boromir the Tall. Boromir the Fair. Boromir the Bold. Lord Boromir of Gondor. Is that all you want to be known as? You could be Boromir the Mighty! Boromir the Wise! Even Boromir the King of Gondor!

'But Aragorn has never been anything but truthful with me!' Boromir found himself thinking, rebelling against the Ring.

"Shall I tell you a story, Boromir?" asked Aragorn, knowing of the struggle in the other man's heart. He went on without letting Boromir get in a word edgewise. "I believe you shall find it rather interesting, if I do say so.

"Not so very long ago, there was a creature named Smeagol. The creature... how do I describe it... it was much like a hobbit, but it lived not in a hobbit-hole under the hills, but in a small, wooden shack by the Anduin. It was not the only one of its kind. There were many of them. I know not what they are called, so I shall refer to them as the 'river folk'.

"These river folk were very good people. Very merry, according to the one whom I heard this tale from. They were, as I have said, much like hobbits, and as the one you know incessantly follow you around, asking you questions, begging you to sing cheerful songs with them, you know how hobbits are."

The struggle in Boromir's features lessened a bit as he thought of the hobbits. Indeed, though Frodo the Ringbearer was a bit wary of him, and therefore Sam was too, Merry and Pippin had no problem with Boromir, and looked up to him greatly. Boromir had many times found himself wishing, if I ever have children, I want them to be just as these two hobbits are. The Gondorian had always cared for those that needed protection...

"Smeagol, in particular, was one of the most curious little river-folk imaginable. He longed to see things, he was very observant, and he loved the land. Not so unlike you, Boromir," Aragorn said. Boromir made a sound of protest, and a fire raged in his eyes. Aragorn held him against the wall still. "But one day -the creature Smeagol's birthday, in fact- something very odd happened.

"His close friend, Deagol, found a small, plain gold ring. He scraped the mud off of it, and his wide eyes were focused solely on the ring. I believe you know what is coming, Boromir..." Aragorn said this softly, and Boromir flinched as if a horde of foes were facing him. "Smeagol looked at his friend, holding the ring, and he heard something. Do you know of what I speak of?"

Boromir nodded, feeling oddly fearful, like a small boy being told a horror story by campfire-side. "The voice," he said. "The voice of the Ring, was it not?"

"Aye, it was," Aragorn said. "And Smeagol became tempted by it. So sorely tempted that he grabbed Deagol's neck and squeezed it. His friend's eyes bulged, and he struggled. Deagol tried to breathe in, but he could not, and his face turned blue. Smeagol's small hands would not stop choking the life out of him. Then Deagol collapsed on the ground, stone dead, and Smeagol took the Ring of Power for his own.

"The Ring had corrupted him, Boromir, you see. All he heard was its voice, saying that Deagol was going to give the Ring to him, but instead was so jealous of its beauty that he kept it. And so Smeagol knelt over his friend's dead body... and laughed," Aragorn said. His voice was cold.

Boromir felt his stomach lurch, and it was all he could do not to retch. "Stop, Aragorn!" he said. "Your words make me ill." His face had gone very pale as he pictured the murder. Aragorn relented, and stopped describing that particular scene.

"So you see, Boromir," he said, "how much the Ring can do to you. It can warp your mind, twist your emotions, until you see friend as foe. It will be the fixation of your life, the only thing you want..." He didn't realize it, but he had all but echoed the Ring's earlier words to Boromir. ...the Ring, the only thing you desire now... Boromir opened his mouth to say something but clenched his lips shut as bile rose in his throat. 'You will not!' he thought determinedly, 'not, get sick on the future King of your people!'

When he was not speaking, someone else did, though. He is lying, Boromir, hissed the Ring's voice. He wants it for himself, that is why he is telling you not to take me... He is comparing you to some river rat. Kill him, he deserves death and beyond!

Before Boromir knew what he was doing, he had kicked Aragorn's legs out from under him and drawn his sword. The ranger let out a cry and drew his own blade. Good, very good! the Ring told Boromir. Now kill him! Boromir's heavy foot came down on Aragorn's ribs, and he heard a satisfying snapping sound. He cares not of you!

"Boromir! Cease this at once!" Aragorn said, his voice tinged with desperation. "Boromir-" Boromir's blade went swinging at his head, and he quickly blocked it, scrambling to his feet. "Ignore the Ring, Boromir, I beg of you, as a friend!" Little did Aragorn know, Boromir did not hear him. He only saw his companion's chapped lips moving, heard only the Ring egging him on.

Keep fighting, Boromir! The Gondorian struck Aragorn's back with the hilt of his sword. Next time with the blade!

But Aragorn had started to call out, "Mithrandir! Legolas! Gimli! Merry! Sam! Pippin! Everyone but the Ringbearer, come to my aid! Boromir has taken leave of his senses!" The clattering of feet behind the two men showed Boromir that the Fellowship was rushing to Aragorn to save him.

Kill them all, then! the Ring said. All of them! Aragorn was growing weaker- he had now a cracked rib, a dangerously bruised back, and, with a slash of Boromir's sword, an injured hand. Aragorn was knocked to the ground again, and Boromir put one foot on his chest, leaning down to scrutinize his victim. He lifted Aragorn's bleeding hand and his royal blood flowed onto Boromir's fingers. He caressed Aragorn's hand- not gently, instead forcing more blood out.

"Boromir! I do not mean any harm!" Aragorn begged, his hand streaming blood. His cursed blood, the blood that had once flowed in the veins of Isildur...

But just before Boromir could injure Aragorn further, he was knocked off his feet. The whole Fellowship (of course, excepting Aragorn, Frodo, and himself) had leaped at Boromir, trying to hold him down. Even old Gandalf had, seeing the madness in Boromir's eyes.

"Boromir son of Denethor of Gondor!" Gandalf said as he and his companions held Boromir to the ground. "Speak for yourself, if you can find words foul enough!"

The man heard naught. He just lay there, struggling dumbly, the Ring whispering in his ear. With one hand, he punched Pippin in the face. The hobbit let out a shout of pain and started to cry at his friend's betrayal.

Legolas said something he could not hear, and the Fellowship started dragging Boromir off into the dark. They are going to abandon you here in the darkness! the Ring said. Remember how your brother Faramir feared the dark as a boy and how you would comfort him? No one shall comfort you! But the Ring's voice was getting weaker as Boromir was dragged farther from the Ringbearer. Then, suddenly, it stopped.

With horror, Boromir looked down at the blood staining his hands. His pulse quickened. What had he done? He didn't see Aragorn. No! he thought, dismay and guilt taking him, I've gone and killed Aragorn! Tears welled in his eyes and threatened to spill out.

"Where's Aragorn? Did I kill him? Did I kill Frodo? Did I hurt you?" Boromir asked, the questions pouring out of his mouth. "I am sorry, so sorry-" He then heard crying from behind him. He turned to find Aragorn struggling to get up, and Pippin beside him, wailing... Boromir saw what he had done, and the tears started running down his face.

"He is behind you," Gandalf said. "You did not kill him or Frodo, but you have injured Aragorn. You hit Master Peregrin rather callously, also." Boromir tried to wipe the wretched tears off his face, but he couldn't stop them from coming.

"I must leave, Gandalf!" he said. "I cannot control my own thoughts now. I must leave you."

"No!" said Gimli sharply, or as sharply as the gruff voice of the dwarf could manage. "It would be abandonment, plain and simple, if we let you leave. Stay with us, Boromir!" The man's crying had stopped for the most part, and he was startled. 'They don't want to abandon me?' he thought in a rather pitiful way.

"I shall stay," Boromir said. His eyes were focused on one thing- the blood on his strong hands. "But I shall never forgive myself for falling to the Ring."