Damn you, Boromir.

How could you leave me like this?

I was not there when you were fighting off those orcs, all alone. I was not there when the arrows found their marks in your sweet body, almost as known to me as my own. I was not there... I should have been.

I never heard your last words...never closed your eyes. I should have.

But that was Aragorn's honor. He was the last to see you alive, last to hear your deep, warm voice. Did your voice shake, dear, when you spoke for the last time? Mine shook, as I tried so hard to sing my farewell to you. It was not nearly what I wanted to do. I wanted to throw my arms around you and scream to the merciless sky and the merciless gods and cry out and beg the Valar to bring you back, to make all this as a bad dream. But I didn't. I helped lay you in the boat that was your pyre, stroking the sweat and blood from your cold face. I caressed your soft hair, mingled auburn and gold strands, and arranged it over your broad shoulders, touching it for the last time. All wordlessly. All silently.

And do you know why? Because I was scared and shamed. I knew that someday, no matter what, I would have to lose you anyway. I would be just fooling myself if I said that we would be together forever. Love is not like in the minstrels' songs.

Love is too complicated. Only last night, hours ago, you were holding me in your arms. You kissed me and nibbled my lower lip gently, and I laughed and kissed you back, thinking that I would not have to say anything now. That there would be time enough for us. That I could put off telling you that I cared for you beyond that you eased the needs of my body.

The needs of my body –dear gods!—the needs of your own! The need that first drove us together, although that wasn't what kept us together. Were that the case, we, both of us high-ranking and used to getting our own way, would have parted ways as soon as our mutual hunger was satisfied. But that wasn't the case. I grew to care for you. Deeply. Perhaps more deeply than was wise. But I am not known for being wise. I never have been, preferring battle to diplomacy, and letting my bow do the talking rather than my mouth. Or, baring my bow, my body.

I remember the arguments we had. We both wanted to have our own way, and it drove us apart for days at a time. To think that we could have had a few more days together. A few more hours in each others' arms.

But the opportunity for that is gone now. Your face is still and serene was your body on the boat floats further and further from me. I refuse to let my tears spill out of my eyes, even though they are so hot that they sear, burning, adding to the pain of your lose.

I'm sorry that I never told you that I loved you. That I still love you. That you are the world to me... I'm sorry, Boromir. So very sorry.

I whisper silently to the winds, knowing that you can hear me now, no matter how softly I whisper, and taking comfort in that.

Boromir, forgive me...

My sweet love...forgive...