Boromir Writes Home: Letters to Faramir

by NorthStar

III.

With respect to two of my favorite writers here - Loth and SWG - I have respectfully integrated a little bit of both their masterpieces "Glorfindel in Imladris" and "24 Days in Rivendell"...I do this with deep respect and great enjoyment of both tales. - NS


Rivendell, October 3018


Dear Brother

This will be my last note for a while – just got word that we are leaving tomorrow at dusk – the better to not be seen, I guess. Makes sense; no use announcing our presence to the Enemy in broad daylight. Time enough for that later.

These last few days have been pretty uneventful. I’ve been playing some bocchi ball with Legolas and some of the other elves to pass the time. Legolas suggested bowling for dwarves, but that wasn’t very well received by the dwarf contingent here. Height and girth seem to be an issue for them. Legolas isn’t a bad sort – a little aloof, but that’s how they all are. Not great drinking buddies, but they seem steady and reliable, if not real imaginative. The elf women like to mess with your head though; just as things are getting romantic, they have this disturbing habit of whispering in your ear “you’re so sweet – its too bad you’re doomed to die while I live on forever.” Really wrecks the mood, if you know what I mean. If you can keep ‘em quiet, they’re great.

Still no luck with Arwen; she seems pretty tight with Sir King. She plays a mean game of bocchi, though. I’ve lost a lot of money to her this week. I’d ask if you could lend me a few bucks, but I know you’re tapped out too. What did I tell you about those barmaids, huh?

Anyway, like I said in my last letter, it ought to be amusing to watch the elf /dwarf face-off. The council scuffle was only the beginning. Nothing too overt, but there’s definitely tension. To keep Gimli from stomping around in their forge, the elves gave him a little whetstone in his room and he spends a lot of time in there sharpening his axes and singing. His voice isn’t bad, either. His favorite song lately seems to be his own composition and goes something like this:

“As we trudge over rock, through rill and tree
No pointy ear will outscore me.

As I dice and slice, I’ll yell ho! ho!

While Blondie only twangs his bow

La la la!”


It’s a catchy little tune, and I actually caught myself humming it at dinner last night, only to find myself the object of a withering stare from Legolas. Gimli was smirking into his soup, and I think I even caught one of the other elves smiling. I think his name is Glory-something. I hardly ever see him except in the early morning when he does yoga up on the tower. Pretty flexible guy. If I tried to tickle my ear with my foot, I’d be in traction for weeks.

Sir King – I mean Aragorn- and I have talked a bit. I asked him about the whole “King of Gondor” thing and he explained that yes, he is Isildur’s heir and the last of his line and all that, but he’s not sure if he wants the job or not. However, it seems as though Elrond has put the kibosh on a wedding to his daughter unless Aragorn becomes king. Doesn’t want the shining light of his people married to a commoner, you know, typical father stuff. He showed me the necklace she gave him; it’s nice, but I’m not a silver lover, as you know. When I become King (assuming Aragorn stands up to Elrond), they’ll be no silver crown with birds on it. No way – it’s a gold circlet with a few tasteful jewels for me! Subtle, but authoritative, you know?

The hobbits are a strange little bunch. Frodo goes around with his hand in his shirt all the time. I thought he had a social tic until I realized that he’s wearing the ring on a chain inside his shirt. He had to hide it after his uncle had a bad moment and freaked out on him. He’s looked a little wary ever since. His pal, Sam spends his time messing about the gardens and packing and re-packing his rucksack. I’m afraid he’s a little obsessive-compulsive about it, but maybe he’s just an anxious sort. Devoted, though. Always with the “Mr. Frodo, do you want something to eat? Drink? Hows about a bath? A foot rub? Here, let me tuck you in. You sound stuffy…are you stuffy? Do you need some Vicks? You’re catching a cold aren’t you? I told you to wear my sweater during bocchi, but no, you knew better than old Samwise Gamgee. I’m gonna go find some Vicks. Lord Elrond must have some, he has everything else…” etc. Its touching, actually, but I’m glad we’re getting going soon…I don’t think Frodo can take too much more doting. He looks about ready to snap.

The other two hobbits, Merry and Pippin, are always in some scrape or other. Yesterday I caught them scrubbing steps with a toothbrush, of all things. They were making the best of it, being engaged in a full-scale soap fight when I arrived. Apparently they’d pulled some clueless stunt and ticked off Gandalf; and rather than turn them into toads or something else unpleasant, he made them clean. First bath those two had had in ages. And can they eat! I’ve never seen anything like it, not even during the “Hungry Half-Orc” competition at the Gondorian Fall Festival last year. The spectacle is unreal; gives me heartburn to watch ‘em. I’m going to be watching my rations very carefully on this trip…

Well, its been interesting here, to say the least. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get another chance to post – I’ve seen the route we’re taking, and I’m hoping I can persuade Gandalf to veer off and go through the Gap of Rohan. Maybe we can meet up somewhere along the line. We could use another good man, and you’re the best one I know.

Time for a last fling with Arial-Airedale – whatever her name is. She is a choice morsel. Maybe she’ll lay off the whole doom thing, seeing as how its’ our last night. Let’s hope.

Your loving Brother

Boromir