I heard the horn
I tried to come quickly
in the distance I saw him fight
standing tall as his foes come closer
two small figures stand behind
fighting more and more
but suddenly he stops
and time seems to cease
my companion has been shot
I continue to fight my way over
as I see him stand up
he continues to ward them off
from the little ones
brave and valiant he fights
but again he is peirced
by arrow black and discerning
from a single foe; evil, protruding
I feel a sting within my heart
tears leap to my eyes
He falls to his knees
Shot again by his enemy
now I run faster, faster
as the single Uruk fixes his gaze upon him
Boromir, still not dead,
and evil not leaving till
he is destroyed
I fight, and fight
his persuer is dead
I kneel down to my brother
face is cold and pale,
black arrows peirced within him
barely speaking, tears fall
"They have taken the little ones"
"I have tried to take the ring from him"
This cannot be happening
His soul in pain
I try to heal it with forgiveness
brave and bold he is
Death is not in vain
"I will not let the White city fall"
He looks upon me now with care and relief
"My brother, My captain, My king"
His words southe my troubled heart
Dead now, though death not in vain
but how I wish He still remained
"They will look for his coming, but he will not return"
Called home by the clearingness of a trumpet,
Pain and grief no more.