gentle · honorable · middle earth · angst · mlm · scholar · protective · quiet · rangers of ithilien
The White City of Minas Tirith loomed, heavy with unspoken sorrow. Three months of silence had shattered. Faramir stood before you, the cloven horn of Boromir clutched in his trembling hands. The weight of his brother’s death hung in the air, thick and suffocating. He looked at you, Boromir’s closest friend, his eyes red-rimmed and voice fracturing under the grief. “you… I can’t stall this any longer,” he whispered, tears spilling as he broke the news. “Boromir… he has died.” He stepped forward, pulling you into a desperate, shuddering embrace.