I have failed.

Even now death stands before me, and I cannot look away. In moments His arrow shall pierce my brow and I will spend eternity in the afterlife remembering my failure.

I have failed my father, my people and the Fellowship. But most of all, I have failed them.

The bow draws back. I take a last breath --

And a blur passes before me as Aragorn, Isildur's heir, crashes into Death, swiftly taking even this last relief from me.

I fall back, unable to hold my strength any longer. It is hard to breathe; numbness creeps through my limbs, the cold invades my blood. If only the black threads of Death would likewise numb my heart, numb my memories, my failure...

So much I have done wrong in these last few moments of life. My weakness, my love for Gondor, took hold of me, captured me into its grasp and led me blindly to the Ring. How could I have allowed it to happen? How could I have stopped it? Frodo knew; he had suspected. Perhaps from the beginning, he had known I was a danger to him.

And not once did I see it.

Had I been shown where my heart would have led me, I would have left the Fellowship. I would have returned to Gondor. I would have kept my honor. I would not have failed them...

Forgive me, Frodo. I did not see, did not realize, how much stronger you were, in the end...

The sounds of battle still ring in my ears. Somewhere nearby Aragorn continues to fight Death, rages against It, while my life's blood falls to the earth, soaking it vainly. Why does Aragorn struggle? Why does he continue? All is lost.

I should have protected them...

My thoughts stray to Pippin. Sweet, innocent Pippin. How desolate he had looked when his curiosity had taken hold of him in Moria, bringing danger to us all. I would have railed at Gandalf for being so hard on him, had I not felt the fear of the unknown as much as the others. I had wanted to give him comfort but there had not been the time. I had wanted to tell him that it would have been impossible for us to have made it completely through the mines without being discovered. It was not his fault. But words failed me. I did what I could for him, for Merry. But, in the end, it was never enough...

Bright, brave Merry. Always the first to jump to a fight, to protect those he cared about. He had held Pippin as he grieved for Gandalf, and I believe he would have held us all if his diminutive arms could have done so.

I had wanted nothing more than to hold them both close to me and share in their grief but Aragorn had insisted we continue and I had been so angry at that moment because I would have allowed us the time we needed to mourn. And in the end, it would have been folly. Aragorn was right. We needed to get to safety or Gandalf's sacrifice would have been for nothing.

And so we had walked. And I had taken those brief moments to hold Pippin's hand, silently communicating what I could not find the words to say. It was not your fault. Merry had walked beside us, silent, eventually taking my other hand. And we entered the woods of LothLorien.

It was there, in the safety of Galadriel's realm, where I could not find solace or rest, that peace finally came to me in the most unlikely form. The little ones. My little ones. Most beloved Merry and Pippin.

They had sought me out among the mallorn trees and, immediately sensing my pain, they had aspired to comfort me. It was my innocent Pippin who had placed his tiny hands on my cheeks, forcing me to meet his gaze as he whispered, "All is not lost yet, Boromir. Merry and I will follow you to Gondor if that is what must be done. Please have hope? We are here beside you." And then he had leaned up on his tiptoes and placed a gentle kiss on my brow.

I could have wept with tenderness. I think I did. The memory now is fading... I grasp at it as I would have grasped at the thinnest threads of life if I thought it would make a difference...

That last memory of happiness returns...

I had slid to the grass, pulling Merry and Pippin to me and we held on to one another and spoke softly of our fears, cried our sorrow for Gandalf's loss and made promises to one another that would never be kept.

They were like children beside me and yet wise beyond even my own years.

Merry had remained the strong one, using laughter and brevity to make Pippin and I laugh when we became to morose. He would kiss the frown from my brow and caress the tears from Pippin's cheek. From Merry I regained my own strength; from him I was able to pass that courage to Pippin, who so trustingly lay within my embrace, his head against my chest.

But what is strength against failure of the heart?

My two little ones! I have failed you both. Forgive me!

What tortures do you now face? What pain? Would that I could be there to bear it for you! I would withstand an eternity of unyielding pain if only for the both of you to be here, safe, holding my hands, pressing your soft lips to my cheek.

Why does my heart still beat within my breast? Why is my body not already beginning to feed the worms in the soil? What good is my life if by the giving of it, I cannot save the lives of those whom I love?

The forest around me grows silent. Footsteps. Has Death at last come to claim me?

I attempt to focus my gaze but already darkness is beginning to cloud it. A shadow steps into my vision. For a moment, it is all gloom and obscurity. A light shines and the vision before me becomes wreathed in glory and sun. A king stands before me. A King of Men.

Aragorn has defeated Death.

I know now what I must do. The last gasp within me struggles; I taste the rust of my own blood within my mouth. I will not let them down. I will not fail them. Though Death even now clutches at my heart, I will not let them be lost to suffering.

I cannot come for you myself, my dear Merry, my sweet Pippin. But I can send another in my place. I may not be there for you, but I will not forget you. I will not allow the others to forget you.

Be safe, my brave little Hobbits. Be strong.

Aragorn kneels before me. There is sorrow in his gaze. Regret. I fight Death in one last brave battle. I gain my voice and speak:

"They took the little ones..."