#Boromir should've been a dad

[mileycyprus-hill]

To Have and to Hold, Tenderly

Based off @gondorimagines post about Boromir cradling you in his arms after a bad day. I took a creative turn with it. This is also my first Boromir fic I've written, so I hope it's good. (Not gonna lie, it was a f***ing struggle to alter my writing style to mirror that of Tolkien when I've only ever written cowboy stuff. Did I need to? Prolly not. But I'm an idiot who does things the hard way.)

Summary: You're a Lady of Dol Amroth and have been married to Boromir for a few years. You're postpartum from a long and painful delivery of your firstborn child while Boromir was gone to protect the borders of Gondor. When he returns, he offers you consolation during your difficult time.

Tags/Warnings: postpartum depression, fluff.

It has been a week.

A week and the pain still lingers. It has spread through your body and evolved from its physical form to infect your mind. The pain of labor had left you frail and weary, your once vibrant spirit now subdued by the weight of motherhood's trials. As you lie in your bedchamber, weighed down underneath the furs and silk sheets, you hear the argument between guilt and apathy loud in your thoughts.

The guilt shouts at you, ordering you to get up. It tells you to be stronger than this; that a Lady of Dol Amroth and wife of a high-ranking captain does not laze about in her bed. She never accepts defeat, but stands up and soldiers on. For her child. For her people.

Apathy however, whispers that you have already failed and you'll never be strong enough for yourself, your child, or your captain again. Your body is ruined. Boromir may not ever return to Minas Tirith. How will you find the strength again?

The silence in the room feeds your inner thoughts. The grand walls and high ceiling loom over you, making it feel less of a comforting place of rest and more of an entrapping cave of white stone. The heavy, blue velvet curtains draping your tall, arched windows shut out the warm sunlight.

You wish to hold her, your newborn babe. That's all you can care for, to feel her warmth against you so you can feel something. Alas, she remains with your nursemaid in another room at the request of the midwife. To give you rest, she told. She witnessed your pain and anguish firsthand, as she stayed with you during those prolonged hours of pushing, screaming, crying, and praying for it all to end. You were near hysterics, anxious that your baby was trapped inside you. You feared as if you had to split yourself in half to get her out.

The midwife recognized your melancholy which lingered after your daughter's birth. She said to you this feeling will pass in time, or was it she hoped it would?

As you drift in and out of an emotional slumber, a gentle knock echoes through the wooden door, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps crossing the threshold. You open your eyes to see the familiar dark, yet golden hair of Boromir, your stalwart husband. He enters your shared bedchamber, his countenance etched with lines of concern and weariness from the battles fought at Gondor's borders.

"My dear (Y/N)," he whispers, his voice a soothing balm to your troubled mind.

You can hardly contain the tears in your weary eyes at the sight of his towering figure. The sound of his voice sends a wave of relief. It washes over you, threatening to spill the emotions you've held so tightly in your heart.

"You've returned!" You sputter and look to him as he crosses the room with purpose, his arms outstretched to embrace you. With such tender care, he gathers you in his arms, his strong frame a shield against the woes outside your door.

"I have, as swiftly as my steed could carry me...I feared I had lost you," he murmurs, soft and low, pressing a kiss to your brow. "But here you are, safe as I hoped you both would be."

You nestled against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your ear. It's a comforting cadence amidst the chaos of your thoughts. The warmth of his cheek against your crown permeates your cold and weakened body and you breathe in his scent, detecting his musk that you've always found so alluring.

Lavender and cream from his shave, leather from his clothing, and the earth and air from his travels.

"How are you feeling?" He queries with a gentle hush, "I had heard it was...quite difficult."

Tears began flowing down your cheeks like a trickling stream after a spring rain. You mutter a sarcastic answer to mask the pain, albeit pathetically, "Difficult is how I would describe your temper. This was..." you pause to reconsider burdening him with your woes, "...something far beyond my imagination."

Boromir's warm hold around you tightens and he presses an apologetic kiss to your forehead. As the fire crackles softly in the hearth, he begins to weave a tale of excitement upon learning the news of your daughter's birth.

"When I received word that our child was a girl," he began, a fond smile gracing his lips, "my heart swelled with joy beyond measure. I thought, a blessing has been bestowed upon us by the Valar themselves, to cherish and protect for all the days of our lives."

Your heart sank.

"But what of your father? He did not appear pleased to discover her," You worry, remembering the controlling nature of the steward towards all things in his city. "Tradition demands a male heir."

Boromir replies, his expression turning solemn as he considers your question, "He may harbor...disappointment at first. He does cling to the ways of old, but he is a man of wisdom and honor." He pauses, a flicker of sadness crossing his features before resolve settled in his eyes. "I have faith that in time he will come to see the light and beauty that our daughter brings to our house, and he will welcome her into the fold with open arms, as a cherished member of our noble lineage."

He recounted how he had ridden with haste through the rolling hills of Gondor, his heart buoyed by the thought of returning to your side, to share in the wonder of new life.

"As I rode through the streets, I heard talk of you and our daughter." He smiles a breathless laugh at that final word, "They spoke with such gleeful joy, 'Finally, a girl is born in the Citadel!' It gave them hope, (Y/N). Countless people requested I send word of your good health to them. They love you, (Y/N). They are here for you just as I am. You are...you're their princess."

Suddenly, a drop of moisture splashes onto your hair. Bringing yourself up from beneath his chin, you look into his grey-blue eyes. They're brimming with tears and he makes no effort to slow his weeping, for he is so overjoyed he can no longer contain them.

"My journey was long and arduous," he continued, his voice a low rumble in the quiet chamber. "But fear not, my love, for I am here now. Together, we shall weather this storm."

And so, in the solace of each other's arms, you found a sanctuary from the trials of the world outside. For in the embrace of love, even the darkest night could be pierced by the light of hope, shining bright as the morning sun upon the walls of Gondor.

The soft creak of the doorknob echoes through the bedchamber, heralding the arrival of another into the sanctum of your solace. Both of your gazes, intertwined with longing and curiosity, turn to behold the newcomer being carried across the threshold.

"And now, here she is," says Boromir, his gaze softening as he looks upon the babe being welcomed into your arms. "When I look upon her, I see the promise of a future adorned with beauty and grace. A beacon of hope to light our path ahead."

As he spoke, you felt a warmth suffuse your weary frame, a renewed sense of purpose blooming within your heart. For in Boromir's words, you find strength to face the challenges that lay ahead, knowing that together, you would overcome every obstacle, guided by the light of love's enduring flame.

[overthinkinglotr]

Ok but the moment right before his death where Denethor deliriously grabs Pippin and shouts “You will not take my son from me!”, and you can’t tell whether he means Faramir or Boromir....poetic cinema

[morwensteelsheen]

#i've actually done a full reversal of my opinion on the matter, #because i think if they had to change his character to create tension, #then they should've made him feel like WAY more of a threat, #make him shrewd and cynical and nearly hopeless after his brother's death, #not just a guy who's following orders so his dad will love him, #and not someone who is at all physically threatening, #but someone who can easily manipulate the truth out of two hobbits, #idk how to do it, #but i'm sure you can make him a dark mirror of his book character, #without turning him into movie!boromir 2.0

Yes!!!!! Oh my god, YES!!! I am literally so on board with this—I’ve been fantasising about writing a Macbeth AU for ages now because I think you’re totally right, if you must have Faramir be, well, not Faramir, then you should at least do it with what information is given in the book! I totally think that those kernels of heavy cynicism and manipulation are there in the books—not just the hearts and minds element of it, but the way he’s both able and willing to switch tack emotionally with both Frodo and Sam and later his own father in an attempt to “win” the situation. And of course that makes the whole situation with him and Denethor that much more interesting, because you’d have Faramir the ruthlessly cynical ideologue vs Denethor the ruthlessly cynical, uh, cynic. Since the PJ films were basically overly-concerned with 1990s-ifying LOTR, having this battle of the cynicisms would’ve been such a fun way to do that. Sigh. So many missed opportunities. And then they could’ve twisted the knife further by playing up Boromir as a reckless optimist, whose starry-eyed optimism (not the war-wearied cynicism that book!Boromir carries with him) is what kills him. A true Third Way manifesto, hahaha

the innate intimacy i feel with women posting on early 2000s fan forums to be like “it’s not that i hate the movies but what the fuck did they do to faramir?” like <3 yes <3 twenty years of parallel what the fucks <3