1. Seek for the Sword
Boromir, weary from a long day of walking, lay wrapped in his cloak upon the hard ground, gazing up at the star-studded heavens. Sleep eluded him, for all his thoughts were bent on the mysterious dream which had set him upon this journey.
The dream had come to him but once, but he remembered it clearly, as if he had just dreamed it. He pondered its meaning often, but it remained a mystery.
Seek for the sword that was broken, in Imladris it dwells.
The sword that was broken...
Might that be the sword of Elendil broken in battle with the Dark Lord in the days of the Great Alliance? Tales spoke of Isildur taking up the shards of his father's sword in defense of the king's body and of his own life, somehow wounding the Nameless One so that he was cast down in defeat. What a sword that must have been, so sharp that even a shard was sufficient to pierce that black armor! What a warrior was Isildur, daring to lay hands on the Evil One!
That was the place he sought -- Rivendell, his father called it. The sword was there, in Rivendell. Was it possible the sword of Elendil had been saved? Perhaps the Elves had reforged it, with such spells and magic as to make it even more formidable a blade than before. With such an heirloom in hand, what might a brave warrior not do for his people? How they would rally to the defense of the White City, if he had such a sword to draw them!
Boromir shook his head at his own fancies and tried to calm himself. No point in thinking too far ahead, before he even found the place he sought. For all he knew, the sword referred to in the dream might not actually a real sword, but a person. Dreams were like that -- one thing said, another meant.
There shall be counsels taken stronger than Morgul-spells.
There had been much counsel taken in Minas Tirith on how to defend against the Dark One. Boromir's father was wise and masterful; long hours he sat with his sons and his counselors, listening to the debate. Listening, then following his own mind. Denethor had great knowledge of all that went on in the realm of Gondor, and his advice was sound -- when he gave it. More often he was silent, and Boromir and Faramir were left to themselves to order the war as best they could.
New counsel would be welcome, thought Boromir. Yet, it would be difficult to ask for help from outside. Boromir was a proud man; was he willing to bend his pride for the good of his City and his people? Yes, if help was to be had from this venture. Counsels stronger than Morgul -spells were needed for the coming battle. How could mere Men, valiant and strong though they be, continue to fight an Evil that had endless power and magic to fuel it? Something new was needed for this fight, some special magic that could be used against the might of Mordor.
There shall be shown a token that doom is near at hand.
Doom at hand... What could this mean? The Dark Lord's doom? Will some special weapon be revealed to defeat him? Does it mean the doom of mankind, or the doom of Minas Tirith and of Gondor? Boromir struggled against a wave of hopelessness at the thought. To come so far on this quest only to learn there is no hope would be hard, too hard to bear!
For Isildur's bane shall awaken, and the halfling forth shall stand.
A token would be revealed, that much was clear; a token that would bring doom. But what was Isildur's Bane? Isildur had been killed by Orc arrows, according to tales. What was so important about an arrow that a dream would call Boromir, lord of Gondor, to come from afar to hold council with Elvish lords? Isildur's bane was to "awaken" -- Orc arrows did no such thing. It must be something else, something magical -- or at least more powerful than an arrow.
And what of the halfling? Boromir was mystified as to the significance of a halfling. He had heard tales of the small people who lived in the North, but he thought of them as simply that: stories, tales for children. If indeed halflings existed, as the dream seemed to indicate, then one of them had some special role to fulfill. Yet how likely was it that a halfling would have anything to do with Isildur, his legendary Sword, the Dark Lord and the doom of Minas Tirith?
So it came down to this -- he was ordered by a voice in a dream to seek a broken sword of legend, which may or may not be found in a place called Imladris. There would be a council held and something would be revealed that would be the cause of doom for someone. A halfling would appear, and that would be important for some reason.
He would not know for certain about any of this until he found the hidden valley of Imladris and the council took place. In the meantime, he must be patient. All would be made clear! Prophetic dreams were like that; they had a way of coming true in the end. He hoped it would be to his advantage, that something would come of this council to aid him against Mordor. Why else would he and his brother have been sent the mysterious dream? Why else...?
Enough interpreting of dreams for one night! Boromir thought, as he rolled over onto his side. Now was the time for sleep. He had a long journey ahead of him on the morrow, and for many tomorrows to come as he sought Imladris.
Closing his eyes, he slept, and dreamed no dreams.
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.