not even boromir had a beard

My Brother

Boromir developed a soft spot for you almost immediately after catching you outside the borders of Lothlorien, crouched low behind a skinny tree trunk, watching the Fellowship walk by.

You’d been following his group sometime after they’d left the mines of Moria. Homeless and friendless, you had long sought purpose and companionship somewhere…anywhere.

Most people told you that you were too young for adventures. Even your own family told you to get lost with your dreams and hopes. Such excitement didn’t happen to poor folk like yourself.

After Boromir startled you from your terrible hiding place, demanding your name and age, you got to talking. You saw the look on his face when you told him no one loved or wanted you.

Something – or someone – came to his mind. You could clearly see familiarity, empathy, and sorrow.

He studied your face some more, then reached out his hand.

 “Come with me and my companions. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

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