Dreams

Author's Website: https://www.angelfire.com/in4/lotr/index.html 
Category: Angst 
Characters: Boromir Merry Pippin other characters 
Warnings: Other 
Rating: PG-13 
Summary: Boromir's fate is not what the others of the 
Fellowship believe it to be. 
Disclaimer: Don't own them, never did. Please don't 
sue me, all you'll get is a few cats, a dog, and some 
student loans. 
Feedback: Feeeeeeeeedbaaaaaaack!! Yes, yes. It is 
precious to me. 
Story Notes: This is eventually going to lead to a 
LotR AU ending. 

Dark. Cold. A soft voice drifts through the darkness, 
singing in strange words, leaving behind warmth. When 
he was warm again, it faded away. 

***

The singing rose again. This time he recognized a few 
words, but most of them were in that strange tongue. 

He felt heavy, as if wrapped in a thick blanket. A 
numbness covered him, muting everything. Everything 
except for a horrible thirst. 

"Drink." 

It was the person who had been singing. A slim but 
strong hand held his head up as a cup was pressed 
against his lips. Cool, clean water trickled into his 
mouth. 

Once he had drunk the entire cup, little by little, 
the hand gently laid his head back on the soft 
pillow. "Sleep." 

He did. 


***

His dreams were troubled, images of death and blood in 
them. Slowly, those dreams faded. 

"You're awake. Good." 

The voice was soft, almost musical. Boromir opened his 
eyes. The first thing he saw was a pair of large, 
impossibly blue eyes. "Frodo?" 

Those eyes closed, and soft laughter danced over his 
skin. Once the pull of the eyes was gone, Boromir 
realized he was looking at a woman. A beautiful young 
woman in grey robes. 

Still feeling incredibly heavy, Boromir tried to 
figure out what was going on. "Who are you?" he asked, 
confused. "Where am I?" The last thing he remembered 
was . . . 

Fighting the orcs. Being pierced by arrows and 
falling. Talking to Aragorn, then everything going 
black. 

As if sensing his rising panic, the woman placed her 
hand on his chest. "Fear not, for you are safe. This 
is a house of healing. You were every badly injured. 
My name is Este. You, Boromir, are very lucky to be 
alive." 

Boromir was tired, and even as she spoke, he felt 
himself sliding back into sleep. 

"The halflings?" he mumbled, fighting off the siren 
call of oblivion until he had news of his lovers. 

"They are fine," said the musical voice. "The sooner 
you heal, the sooner you will see them. Rest." 

He could resist no longer, and Boromir slid back into 
the dark warmth of sleep. 


***

/He was on watch. An important job, but his eyes kept 
wandering to the pile of bodies near the fire. It was 
still a pretty picture to see the four halflings, 
hobbits, they wanted to be called hobbits, in a large 
pile. Every night they would weave around each other, 
a mass of curls and furry feet. 

It wasn't a sight he was able to see ever often 
anymore. Pippin and Merry had ambushed him and told 
him of their feelings. Then acted upon them. Once that 
had happened, he had ended up as a part of the pile. 
His lovers had curled up around him, and Frodo and Sam 
had followed. The others were amused the first time 
they had woke to that sight. Boromir, the heir to the 
Stewardship of Gondor, had four hobbits wrapped so 
tightly around him he couldn't move. 

That's why it was so amazing when he woke Sam for his 
watch. The hobbit wiggled right out of the pile, 
easily and without disturbing the others. As Boromir 
laid down, he was almost instantly wrapped by Merry 
and Pippin, who never fully woke up. It took a few 
minutes for Frodo to follow suit, but soon three 
hobbits had latched onto Boromir. 

It was in this bundle of warmth that he fell asleep 
in./ 


***

"He's dreaming about them." 

Este looked at her husband with a smile. "He loves 
them. They love him. Of course he's dreaming of them." 

Wrapping his arms around the grey clad woman, Irmo 
kissed his wife's cheek. "This is the most you've 
interfered in years," he said, his large, dark eyes on 
Boromir. "The first time was the birthing of the 
little one, and now this one. Why this one?" 

Snuggling into her husband's embrace, Este's smile 
softened. "He loves them, they love him. I love them. 
They will go through so much, have gone through so 
much. If I can make them happy, then why not?" 

"No reason." He placed his chin on her shoulder, both 
watching the sleeping man. "You make such a wonderful 
mother. You, Nienna, and Nessa. All of you care so 
much for these little ones. I sometimes wish we would 
have our own littles."

"Not yet. Soon, though. Soon." 

On the bed, the healing man shifted. A grimace crossed 
his face, then he relaxed once more. 

Black eyes blinked. "What are you going to do with 
him? You can't keep him here for long." 

Este rolled her eyes. "He's not a pet, Irmo. The only 
reason he is here is so I can keep an eye on him. Poor 
man was actually seconds from death." 

"'Poor man?' May I remind you, dear one, he did try to 
steal the Ring." 

A sigh. "I know. However, you are forgetting that he 
woke from the foul trance he was in and attempted to 
save those he loves." She softly kissed her 
husband. "Have no worries, my heart. Once he has 
healed enough, I shall return him. Perhaps leave him 
in the care of that half-elf, Elrond." She frowned, 
going over the possibilities. "It bears thinking on." 

With a final kiss, Irmo rose. "Then I shall take my 
leave of you. Is there anything I can do for you?" 

Este smiled. Her mate was so sweet. "Bless them with 
happy dreams. All of them. They need to have some 
light in this time of darkness." 

"All right. May your patient grow healthy quickly. 
Even their dreams will pale to reality when he is 
returned to them." Irmo vanished. 

"Indeed," murmured Este, picking up her book once 
more, waiting for Boromir to wake again. 


***

Sleep fell away once more. As he opened his eyes, 
Boromir looked at the room he was in. It reminded him 
greatly of the elvish city of Rivendell. The walls 
were barely there, and he could see large trees and 
mist from his bed. 

Curled up in a chair next to him was the woman, her 
eyes on him, smiling as he looked around with wonder. 
Sunlight danced over her hair, the color of polished 
maple. Her skin was pale, almost as light as the elf, 
Legolas, he had traveled with. 

"I am happy to see you awake, good warrior. Your 
injuries were such that I feared for your mind." She 
laid aside the book she held and rose, gracefully 
settling on the bed itself. 

Boromir searched his memory, but failed to draw forth 
his tender's name. "Forgive me, Lady, I seem to have 
forgotten your name. I remember that you have kept me 
from death, and that we spoke before, but I have no 
memory of your name." 

"Still, better than I expected," she praised. "Do not 
feel ashamed, for you took a grievous injury to your 
head, and remembering may be difficult for a while. My 
name is Este." 

Something about that name tickled a distant memory, 
but Boromir was still too weak to catch it. 

"Este. A familiar name. A fair name, one that matches 
you well." His eyes traveled the room once 
more. "Please, milady, where are we?" 

"This is my house of healing. The land is that of my 
husband." She paused, looking at Boromir oddly as if 
she could read his soul. "How do you feel?" 

Not fully satisfied with her answer, Boromir took a 
moment to give himself the once-over. "Tired, Lady 
Este. My chest feels as if I have been kicked by a 
horse, and there is an ache in my head, a throbbing in 
time with my heart. I feel as if a heavy blanket is 
over me, my limbs do not wish to move such a weight." 

Este nodded. "You were hit by three orc arrows. Those 
caused you chest injury. While you were being brought 
here, the boat overturned, and you head was knocked 
against an underwater rock. Your heaviness of limb and 
headache are from that." 

Blinking, Boromir tried to remember any of the trip to 
this place. He could not. 

"Do you think your stomach would accept some broth? 
You have had nothing but water and doctored wine since 
you've arrived." 

He slowly nodded, wincing slightly as the pain in his 
head increased. "All right," Este said, rising from 
the bed. "I will return." 

When she returned, she held the cup of warm broth as 
Boromir slowly sipped it. Halfway through the cup, he 
fell asleep once again. Este placed the broth on the 
nearby table and picked up her book. Time for her to 
watch again. 


***

Irmo joined his wife once more. 

"Their dreams have been blessed," he told her, 
settling on the floor, leaning against her legs. "I 
was thinking, dear heart, they will know this grief 
again, far too soon. Even if they all survive this 
war." 

It took a moment, but Este realized what Irmo 
meant. "He has so little time left." Forty or fifty of
their years left. Merry most likely has another sixty 
or seventy, and Pippin another ten on that. "They will 
lose him to his own mortality," she whispered. Hand 
reaching for her mate's, Este thought about it. She 
seemed to be doing that quite frequently around this 
man. "I'll speak to Vana soon," she decided out 
loud. "Maybe she might help." 

Eyebrows the color of jet rose. "You would grant such 
a gift?" 

"Only a bit," she said absently. "Maybe grant him a 
younger body, with the same outer form." 

"Why is that?" 

"So it would not be too much a shock for them. Merely 
freeze his appearance until his true age caught up 
with it once more." 

Nodding, Irmo brought his wife's hand to his lips. 
Planting a soft kiss on her palm, he stood. "I'll 
return later, Este. Many things are going on, and a 
Dreammaster's work is never done." 

She smiled. "Of course. I will talk to Vana soon, and 
see what we can do." 

Her husband left. She stared into space, thoughts 
inwards as she worked out the details of her plan. 


***

/His arms wrapped around them, holding them tight. All 
three traded kissed and crushing hugs. 

"We thought you were dead," Pippin cried. 

With the deep laugh they had heard so little of, 
Boromir pulled his lovers to him. "Nay! I hold you in 
my arms, and I shall convince you more tonight. 
Now...." A gentle smile. "For now, I am content to 
hold you." 

He could feel his heart swell. Boromir was alive! 
Alive and far happier than he had been for most of 
their long journey. 

All three were alive and safe, and he thanked every 
god who would listen./ 

Merry's eyes opened, tears spilling from them when he 
realized it was just a dream. 

Next to him, Pippin whimpered. Tears also ran from his 
eyes. 

Curling up around his lover, Merry kissed away the 
tears before they fell of the soft moss that was their 
bed. That was all the shoulder Pippin needed, breaking 
down and sobbing his heart out. Their position was the 
reverse of one earlier, when it had been Merry who 
lost control. 

"I miss him," sniffed Pippin, as he finally gained 
some control. "I miss him so much." 

"As do I," Merry whispered. "As do I." 

In the room Treebeard had provided, two small hobbits 
mourned for their lost love. 


***

Carefully, very carefully, Este measured three drops 
of fiery red liquid into the glass of water. There was 
a spark, then the red vanished. Sniffing it, Este was 
convinced that Boromir would never detect it. 

"You should ask what he wants before you do this." 
Vana pointed out, green eyes sparkling. With her red 
hair and pale skin, she looked almost frail, but one 
should never underestimate the power that laid within 
her. 

A nod from Este. "I should, but I won't. He doesn't 
know who I am, not really. If I ask, it will panic 
him, and undo a great deal of work that I've done so 
far. Therefore, I won't ask." 

Shaking her head, Vana only laughed. "Hey, it's your 
choice. Let me know how it works." 

"All right." 

Soon, Este was back in the room that housed Boromir. 
The man stirred restlessly, sweat running down his 
face. As bad as he looked, Este was not worried. 
Healing took a great deal of energy from a person, and 
sometimes that was visible. Still, it gave her an 
unlooked for chance. 

"Boromir," she whispered, sitting carefully on the 
edge of the bed. "Drink." 

Thirsty, hot, and only half-awake, he did as she 
asked, draining the cup. Holding her breath, Este 
slowly released it when she saw that it was doing 
exactly what she had wanted. There was little outward 
change, but internally, Boromir was younger. Scar 
tissue under the skin had vanished, a few wrinkles 
vanished, and Boromir had the body of a twenty year 
old. His appearance would remain as it was until he 
had once again reached the age of forty, then it would 
continue to age. 

As if summoned by the power surged, Irmo 
appeared. "You have done it?" he asked, coming to 
stand next to his wife. She nodded. 

"It has had an unexpected effect, however," she 
said. "It has strengthen his body. I believe I will 
send him to the house of Elrond now. There he can 
finish healing, and I'm sure that household will 
travel to Gondor when the war is over." A wicked grin 
crossed Este's face. "Besides, he can talk to Bilbo 
and gain many interesting stories over his lovers." 

"You have such a wicked mind, love," said Irmo, a 
similar smile on his face. 

"Let us take him to Rivendell then." 

All three faded from the house of healing, one unaware 
a new chapter of his life had just begun. 

The End 

Hobbits
Men