I'm A Believer!

Adraefan

41. Chorus VIII (Varda Comes to Boromir in a Dream)

Whimpering panic a need swelling, perverse and complete burrowing deep in the heart twisting, clenching tight in the stomach, only to vomit out a drink, a drink, just one more something to help the day pass soothe the nights silent, please (ai, me, Valar, do you listen?) everywhere the thick terror dripping down the walls and lingering in the corners like a black jagged fog… A dream passes melts into another and convinces slips past the teeth and crawls down the throat and into the wounds - that scream - remember that wound and remember all the panic burning through the mind – Just one more, just one more drink something to ease the tremor bring steadiness again bring relief, please, Eru, liquid relief passing through the veins ai, Eru, ai, ai, ai, ai, Eru, please, please, one will be enough, just one… Clouds. Wind. Sky. Drift up away from Elrond’s house let us consider the Valar in all this, seeing as They are primarily responsible: Manwë. Varda. Husband and Wife look at each other communicate with a thought, pass the message along down the line of waiting Fourteen down to Weeping Nienna, Dreaming Irmo, Salt-Water Ulmo, Mandos-Keep Námo etc until, “Poor mortal.” “Terrifying.” “Shall I, or shall you?” “It would be Estë the Gentle’s role. She is the Healer.” Exasperated Estë: “Ah, but I have an entire Middle-earth to comfort!” Varda: “Very well, very well. I will go.” At night, when the stars blink bright, clean and very far away when insects buzz and Men snore and elves stare unseeing when everyone is asleep Varda comes, She tiptoes around the House of Elrond padding down abandoned hallways, all dark the marble cool against Her soles She walks invisible-stealth into the room the room of Her preferred Man, Boromir. She enters, dripping stars, a supernova, a galaxy, leaning close, leaning over the crumpled sheets and gently gently placing Her hand, starry cold, against his over-warm cheek, She lays two kisses one, two against each heavy-hooded, closed eye breathing in the smell of his mortality the vivid scent of something finite bright and short-lived She breathes in smells and then rests Her lips against his just as he sleeps he dreams quiet now, all peaceful, so quiet and She feels his warm, cracked lips – such a dazzling smile when he has the chance! – and She hesitates (because husband-Manwë might be watching) but whispers soft in good-bad, divine-beloved Boromir’s ear, the Valar’s plaything, She whispers in his ear, so only he can hear: “Seek you relief in a drink or hope in a hand held out from dusty battle-clouds? You know it does not work, my mortal love. You are being foolish, and we have not pumped hearty Númenórean-red through your veins to see you dribble it all away and dilute it with some mead. Listen, my to-die love, listen close: For your fame has reached the heavens, stunned Us such a Brave-Tall-Warrior, beaming bright sword in hand, cutting down the Enemy and taunting Evil with your reckless bravery, right up to the Black Gate it has intrigued Us good-bad prince, with some Valar cheering you on others straining to destroy you… all this failed Ring-temptation and repenting, suffice it to say you have piqued Our interest.” She smiles, and some of Boromir’s suffering is relieved. Again, She speaks: “Ah, my sweet mortal Man, all rugged and ragged and ruined and scarred long have I favored you, loved you as a babe, the stars smile at you, wash you in perfect white-light, and I will reward you after your toil, (yes, a handsome reward, enviable) with a wife and son, love so absolute, complete, all-consuming, that it will wring envy from the heavens. I swear. You will have peace, fine joy, pearly white smiles and searing passion, love yes, I promise, love and you will die a happy Man old, wise, white-haired, beloved by his son and grandson’s son a peaceful death after a long-hard life, like sleeping – But… You must stay the course, Boromir! Abandon the fears, the die-hard wounds simmering torment of the Dark One abandon the drink, the nightmares, the panic fight free of this ghost-grasp, loosen your heart, your mind, your shaking hands, climb up over it scaling high up and there will be your reward: a sweet and easy life, as I, Varda, Elbereth, Queen of the Valar, Who-Scattered-the-Stars-in-the-Sky, hereby Proclaim.” And so She pulled herself away from his cheek, laid another gentle, warm kiss against his scarred lips so that he returned it, even in dreaming-exhaustion sleep and let his own hot breath linger in Hers, so cold, pulled himself up, seeking Her in the dark as She drifted away back to the Home of the Valar while he sank down into his pillow snoring.

This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.

In Challenges

Story Information

Author: Aeneid

Status: Reviewed

Completion: Complete

Rating: Adult

Last Updated: 10/20/05

Original Post: 08/10/04

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