Work Text:
*Date to be updated so that it fits the rest of my writings*
Dearest Abi,
I was most glad to read your last letter. I am now replying to you and there is no doubt that, by the time you open it, many weeks of even months will have passed. Thusly, I will attempt to include as much information as my sore fingers allow me to write, for I deem it necessary that you know what festers in Middle-earth. These past few weeks have indeed been eventful. Uncle Elboron was wed and most of the nobility gathered in the courtyard of Minas Tirith to attend a lavish reception the Queen herself had a hand in planning. It is not surprising considering the choice of bride—he married the Prince’s sister, after all—but I was pleasantly surprised to see how involved she was in the preparations of it all. Normally Queens do not personally partake in such activities—or so I am inclined to believe—but, then again, Queen Arwen should not be compared to mortal queens. She might have chosen to walk the path of Lúthien, but she is still very much an Elf-maiden. The Prince is in good health and so is the King. This last bit should probably not be mentioned, but since this letter is most likely going to be read only by you and my siblings, I feel compelled to share it for the sake of accuracy: the Prince forgot half of the speech he was supposed to deliver at the reception and, needless to say, both the bride and aunt Ilmarë were furious. I will not lie to you, it was rather…embarrassing. I should not be speaking ill of the heir to the throne of Gondor, but I do believe our uncle is not quite yet ready to succeed his father, which is why I am ever grateful that king Elessar is still strong and vigorous. Our uncle has definitely grown into his role and the people appreciate his kindness and his good deeds, but he oftentimes seems to be unable to forsake his childish ways, so much so that his children often appear to be far more level-headed than he is. Speaking of royal children, Cousin Aerin asked to be mentioned in this letter, a request I could not bring myself to deny. She is also faring well and, at the present time, she is preparing to travel to Annúminas with a few Dúnedain rangers, though the reason of her sudden trip is unknown to me. I suspect she might have met someone up North and by the smirk on her face—she is currently standing before me as I write—I dare say I might be correct. I am now patiently waiting for the ink to dry out and I can see her silently nodding with my peripheral. Allow me then to rephrase. I was indeed correct. She does not wish to provide any additional details about her love interest, so I highly suggest you write a letter to her in the future if you are ever compelled to know more. I for sure know I am.
Grandfather visited me yesterday and asked me to send you all his love. He took part in Uncle Elboron’s wedding and was reasonably happy about the whole affair, but his pain is still so raw everybody can feel it from a mile away. He will never be free of it, Abi. It seems to me he virtually gave up on life ever since our Lady Mother passed away. Her death haunts him. He grieves and blames himself for it. My words of comfort and my reassurance fell on deaf ears. He might have a few decades left in him in body, but his spirit has already traveled to Mandos. One close look at him and it becomes painfully clear he has lost all the will to live. That is not to say he does not love or care for Uncle Elboron. To the contrary, he’s most precious to him. But Mother was his Vanimelda, his pride and joy, his happy place. She is so missed and so is Father. I visited their graves a few days ago. No one can enter the Hallowed Grounds unless in the event of a funeral or a remembrance memorial, but king Elessar was gracious enough to make an exception for me, though I suspect that me being a son of the late Herald might have somewhat influenced his decision. The block of carved stone covering their individual graves was removed and replaced by one made of glass. They share one grave now and their bodies are now visible, as if they were on public display. I do not know why changes were made, but, after a brief moment of shock and disdain, I concluded I do not mind at all. In fact, I had never realized how I had longed to behold their faces once more until I did. I do not have it in my heart to describe what I felt, for no language could adequately convey the complexity of my inner turmoil at that time. Anger, sadness, numbness…these words are most closely associated with what one usually feels on such occasions, yet…I do not believe they are appropriate. I stood before them, and I lingered there for a while. Their appearance struck me, they did not look dead. They have been dead for seventeen years, yet…they looked so beautiful. I reckon Father has never looked more majestic and Mother…mamma looked beautiful. More beautiful than I remembered her. She has always been exceedingly pretty, but…you should have seen her, Abi. Again, words fail me. As weird as it sounds, she looked content. At peace. That is the term I was seeking. She is at peace now. She is at peace, Abi. She found her peace and I hope with all my heart you will find yours, too. Nothing was your fault and I know Faramir carries part of that senseless guilt as well. He did not kill mother. Please tell him that. Tell him that a hundred, a million, a billion times. If necessary, ask Lord Aulë to hammer the very meaning of said sentence so deep into his skull so that he may never forget it. He did not kill mamma. As painful as it is for me to admit, she would have died regardless. Her fate was sealed long before she gave birth to Vanya and Faramir. They will not listen to me as they probably do not even remember who I am, but I am confident they will listen to you. They have to, brother. Both our mother and our father’s end was written way before we were born, laid out by Eru at the beginning of time. Though I have a hard time wrapping my head around it, I think we could not have prevented it. I do not understand why the One would betray our parents like so, but who am I to question His will? I only wish they had found the cure I have been administered a little sooner. If they had maybe papa would have lived. I try not to dwell on it, but I often feel I might have contributed to his death. He spent so much of his time looking after me when he really should have minded his own health. I was of no use as child, and I am of no use now. I have never learned how to fight and even now that I am somewhat able to lead a normal, independent life without being constantly confined to a bed, no one will teach me. I have never participated in campaigns and my contributions to the betterment of Ithilien have been minimal. If Eru sees fit, perhaps I will have a long life and, perhaps, if my health does not worsen, I will find a way to put whatever time I have left to good use for the people’s sake. I will do all that is in my power not to disappoint you, Abi. I promise. I will not let you down. I cannot.
I received a letter from Éomer King earlier this week. He has been ill for some time but, judging from the cheerful tone of his writing, I can only assume and hope he is on the mend. He invited me to Edoras for an undisclosed amount of time and, since Grandfather and Uncle Elboron will soon return to Emyn Arnen once the wedding celebrations come to an end, I thought I should go. I have never been to Rohan and Mother never talked about it either. She could speak the language fluently and was knew a great deal about its culture and history, yet she never seemed eager to discuss it. Grandmother was originally from there, was she not? I have never even seen a portrait and, despite having heard multiple accounts and descriptions, I still cannot picture her in my head. Grandfather once said he believed Uncle Elboron to be a dead ringer for her, so I presume she might have resembled him. I am giggling through my tears as the heartwarming yet slightly horrifying image of Uncle Elboron in a dress and a blonde wig has carved itself into my brain. Oh, Eru, I wish I had not thought of that, as I suspect no amount of Elven liquor will be able to shake it off my mind. I am not allowed to drink—that is what the healers told me, at least—but I suppose a little Miruvórë will do no harm. I might try diluted in water, a couple drops. As far as I remember, Mother enjoyed it too.
I have been learning how to ride and I must say it is not at all uncomfortable. My legs hurt for a while, but I am slowly getting used to it, though my horse is not collaborative. She is quite stubborn and neighs quite a lot. She is very vocal, which is why I called her Wyn. Please, don’t tell that to my sweet Abla. I would never do anything to upset her, but feel free to mention that her lonesome little brother in Middle-earth named his mare after her if she ever bothers you. That would only make her blush and it would make ME laugh for days. Jokes aside, do not neglect to tell her that we miss her very much. By we, I mean grandfather, the King, our uncle Prince Eldarion and our cousins, especially the children. Cousin Aerin looks after them most of the time as she is extremely fond of them. The eldest was named after the king; his name is Estel and he is a boy of thirteen. His younger brother’s name is Beren and he is a little fellow of nine. I do not see much of them unfortunately, but they are an absolute joy to be around. They’re incredibly smart and witty and they love making fun of their father whenever they possibly can. The King and the Queen adore them and spoil them rotten. You probably will not believe it, but Aunt Ilmarë is quite the strict parent. Both boys have often complained to me about her ways, but I personally think she is an excellent mother whose only wish is for her sons to keep out of trouble. They do take after their father in that department.
In your last letter, you seemed eager to know how Aunt Ilmarë was faring and you were clearly frustrated at the lack of an answer on her part. Let me tell you what I know. She is much better now and even manages to crack a smile every once in a while, but she will never fully heal. Father’s passing broke her. It might sound simplistic, but I really have no other way of describing what I feel whenever I look at her. She is…spent. Not in the way Mother was of course, but her eyes have lost their spark. The beautiful Maiarin woman I so fondly remember from my childhood has faded. Though she has many reasons to be happy, she is often mournful and wears mostly black or dark garments when she is not attending banquets or diplomatic dinners. Just as I do not see much of our cousins, I do not see much of her either. She does not receive me often and when she does, we do not engage in conversations. She stares at me with tear-filled eyes until she dismisses me. She once noted how much I looked like Father but, to this day, I am not sure she meant for me to hear it. I fear she resents me somehow, though at times I do hate myself as well. If only I could have saved either mamma or papa…I was only a small child when they died, but there is no doubt I could have done more. I should have done more. I will never forgive myself for not trying harder, for not fighting harder. Had I been stronger, perhaps papa would still be alive. Unbeknownst to us, he was so sick and worries and sadness only made his illness worse. Yet…we did not notice. I did notice, no one else did either. And he was so worried about me…I was the cause of his grief, of his sadness, of his incessant worrying. It is well-known that the Ainur can die of a broken heart if the pain is intense enough. Did I break his heart, Abi? Was it my fault? He wasted away because of me, is that right? Abi…did I kill papa? It has been seventeen years, and I still cannot comprehend what really happened. I lay awake at night trying to figure it out, trying to find a logical explanation as to why the greatest of the Maiar, the Herald of Manwë, our most beloved father died the way he did. Had he long been ill? Did Mother know? Did YOU know?
Maybe I should have died. No, let me rephrase. I should have died. I was always the lesser son, the sickly one. Mother was poisoned when she was expecting, was she not? Urinwë told me about it. He deeply cared about our mother. He was loyal to her and loved her nearly as much as father did. He said that they tried to kill her several times and I was doomed even before I was born. She lost so many children…I cannot imagine going through so many pregnancies and losing as many loved ones as she has. She called me Sunshine, Abi. Sunshine. Apparently, that is also what she used to call Uncle Elboron. He made her happy. I do not believe I did. I was constantly on the brink of death, how could I ever make her happy?
I did not mean to kill them, Abi. I loved them. I still love them. I love my grandfather, my uncles, my great-uncle…I love my siblings. I have nothing but respect for all you have done. I have looked up to you my entire life, Abi. I hope I can see you all again one day. If my health permits it, I will board a ship and join you. You have my word. I will sail to Aman and I will kneel before you, begging forgiveness. I keep referring to Father as the Herald, whilst forgetting you bear his ring now. As you should. You are his heir, after all. You always have been. If there is something I can do to help, you need only tell me. Command it and I shall obey, my lord. Command it and may the merciful Valar find it in their hearts to spare me when I cross the sea. I hope they know I did not intend to hurt my family and if there is a chance for me to atone, I shall take it. I do not deserve happiness, which is why I chased it away when it found me. A delightful maid has visited me a few times over the past few times. A beautiful young maiden with golden hair and blue eyes. Eirwen is her name, and she hails from Belfalas. She was my only source of happiness these past few months and she was more precious to me than life itself, but I would have been her most doleful regret. Thus, I set her free and we shall not meet again.
I wish I could write more but I am rather tired now. I have been advised not to overexert myself and I will heed the words of the healers. I do not wish to cause any more trouble to those around me. Therefore, I am retiring for the night. Send my regards to our siblings and inform the Valar I am forever at their service.
Your loving brother,
Boromir