‘No!’ I cried, with my mouth. ‘How can this be! Where did it go! How did this happen! Quick, someone, answer me?’
Mr Elessar was just over there, even where he had been when he delivered the fateful news that the Last Ring was gone. ‘I do not know,’ he expounded sorrowfully. ‘All I know is that I woke up this morning and lo! it was gone from where I left it.’
‘Rouse the castle!’ I commanded cleverly. ‘We must get to the bottom of this at once!’
So it was as so such it must be as it was so that a council was called again, for everyone to decide what to do. And when we all assembled, there was one among us who was not among us, for he did not assemble with us in our council.
‘Where is Boromir, the heir to being High Steward?’ I nobly shouted at a servant.
‘He is not here, my lord,’ wheedled the impoverished pipsqueak. ‘He did depart strangely early this morning, even before the third hour had rung.’1
I thought that this was most suspicious, for Boromir to depart so unannounced and incredibly early in the morn, like a man with something to hide, I thought. ‘Friends,’ I said thoughtfully, ‘I believe Boromir has stolen the Last Ring.’
Everyone gasped in shock. How could this be? Boromir was a good man, a friend and ally, not a wicked nasty sneak. Or, at least, he was once. But was this really Boromir any more? It was a mystery, with only one way to find out the answer, and that way was to follow Boromir and catch him, and also retrieve the Last Ring from his treacherous grasp, for this was the only way to do that too.
So I hopped up onto my faithful steed Snowtail, and rode from Minas Tirith swiftly in pursuit of Boromir. And Mr Elessar came with me, for he did not have anything better to do. But Imrahil and Éomer and Mithrandir and everyone else stayed home in Minas Tirith, cleaning up after the dreadful battle which had only just happened.2 Also, Mr Elessar brought two of his hobbit servants with him, the brigandish Nine-fingered Frodo and Steve. Meregrin stayed in Minas Tirith because he was still in bed,3 and Peregrin stayed in Minas Tirith to guard the wily and sneaky Faramir, just in case he tried anything while we were gone.4
So off we went, swift as the wind, and silent as the wind when the wind is not making too much noise, and hither and thither did we ride seeking high and seeking low and seeking for Boromir. But never did we find that treacherous cur, wherever we looked, for we were not looking in the right place. Then we started going towards Mordor, because someone said they saw an evil man going that way, and then did we find Boromir, having not found him before until that moment when we did find him.
For aye! verily was he travelling even unto the very land of Mordor, which is where King Sauron lives, and verily that was very bad. But we saw him going that way, and I shouted heroically, ‘Hoi Boromir! Come back here this instant!’
And Boromir turned around and lo! his flesh was pale and pallid, and his teeth were falling out, and he was rotten. Rotten, like a corpse, but also a rotten scoundrel and a thief. And he rasped wickedly, ‘Hello Lord Tallow.’
And I countered, ‘Hello Boromir. Where are you off to?’
And he held up the Last Ring, and growled, ‘I’m taking this to its rightful master, King Sauron, so he can use all the Rings to conquer the whole world! Don’t try to stop me, Lord Tallow, or I’ll have to try and kill you.’
‘But I must!’ I rejoined. ‘Because this is evil. But Boromir, my old friend, how could this happen? How could you turn wicked?’ And I wept as I asked, for I was quite sad by Boromir betraying us all, but my tears were manly and heroic tears and not weak and pathetic, and the wind blew in my hair and rustled up my cloak. An eagle cried in the distance, somewhere. Probably up in the sky.
‘Because you all love this Mr Elessar so much and want him to be king!’ raved Boromir. ‘I should be High Steward of Minas Tirith, but you would have some Ranger take my place! A scamp and a rogue!’5
‘Ironic,’ I remarked. ‘For aye, it is true that Mr Elessar is a lowborn wretch and you are noble and high, Boromir. But methinks that now it is Mr Elessar who is kingly, and you are become no better than a common thief and a Ranger!’ And my words were very wise, for it was true.
But Boromir laughed madly, and babbled, ‘Well then, Lord Tallow, I see how it is! You would stand against your oldest friend, and try to thwart him? Then I will have to slay you!’ And he drew out his sword and charged straight at me to try and kill me, even though my skill with the sword had always been the greater.
And sorrowfully, I wept, ‘My oldest friend is dead, Boromir. Slain by wicked Elves on the shore of the Anduin. Before I knew not what had happened, but now is it so that it is fully plain to me verily even is it so, that I know what happened. After you died, Sraumun the White must have found your body and returned you to some horrible semblance of life using evil magic, mustn’t he! And thus also too is explained the riddling words of the wicked wizard after I nobly killed him to death. So it is so!’ I said as I drew my sword and started fighting Boromir.
First our swords clashed with a cling, and then we swung them about a bit, whoosh whack smash, trying to chop each other’s heads off. Then I ducked like this, and Boromir countered, ha! But clang! swish! shwing! I was running all about, fighting like a hero while Boromir nearly tripped over, but then no! he was on top of me, even though I was much better than him, but maybe it was a feint and a trick on my part!6
‘Now, Mr Elessar!’ I commanded.
Boromir spun around, but not fast enough! He had forgotten all about Mr Elessar, who had been skulking and hiding rangerly, for though he was now a king, still was he very sneaky. Anyway, Mr Elessar had crept around behind Boromir while I distracted him with my brilliant sword fighting, and then yes! Mr Elessar stabbed Boromir right in the heart and chopped his head off!
‘Noooooooo’ said Boromir as his head fell off.
‘Quickly, the Last Ring!’ I ordered. ‘Put it back on and release poor old Boromir from this undying torment!’
So Mr Elessar chopped Boromir’s finger off too, and blood went everywhere, but it was black and green and rotting like Boromir, and then Mr Elessar put the Last Ring back on! Then in a loud and arcane voice, he said, ‘Inig bast no odog saith!’7 And instantly poor old Boromir was released from his undeath and went back to being dead.
‘I’m sorry about your friend,’ said Mr Elessar sorrowfully.
‘Ah, it’s alright,’ I reassured him. ‘It’s very sad, of course, but it’s better that he’s dead now. And anyway, Boromir would never have done such a thing when he was really alive, it was just Sarunan’s evil undead magic making him do it.’
‘Now what should we do?’ wondered Mr Elessar.
‘It is a good question,‘ I pondered. ‘Clearly, it’s too dangerous to keep the Last Ring, because maybe someone else will steal it again like Boromir and maybe next time we won’t get it back in time and the evil Sauron will return to power and rule the whole world. But also if we’re going to kill Sauron and end his reign of terror over the world, we’ll have to use the Ring. A riddle, seemingly without an answer…but I think I have an answer! Quick, Mr Elessar, back to Minas Tirith!’ And I quickly explained my plan to him.
‘Ha! A fine plan, Lord Tallow - I see your wits are as sharp as your blade and as swift as your blade,’ complimented Mr Elessar.
‘Sharper, and swifter,’ I told him modestly. ‘But come! Let us return even now to Minas Tirith, and marshal all our armies. And then,’ and I paused dramatically. ‘And then we shall attack Mordor, and finally end this whole war!’
So off we went back to Minas Tirith, my brilliant plan already in motion, like a cart being pulled by a horse.
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1 That Nick Tallow thought this an early hour likely speaks more to the deplorable idleness of the man than anything else.
2 Following the Battle of the Pelennor and the King Elessar’s passing through the Houses of Healing, it is recorded that he did indeed retire to a camp outside the city with his kinsfolk of the North, so as not to press his claim for kingship in a time of strife. However, to many within Minas Tirith, it seemed as if the mysterious captain had vanished as suddenly as he had appeared, and many and strange were the rumours told by the people of the city of the grey-clad stranger. It seems sure to me that Nick Tallow, bereft of knowledge concerning Aragorn’s actual movements or purpose, drew “inspiration” from gossip (and from his own inane imagination) in his inventing of this particular ludicrous episode.
3 Meriadoc Brandybuck did indeed tarry in the Houses of Healing for some days following the battle, so this is broadly accurate.
4 Though Peregrin Took did oft attend the Lord Faramir before setting out with the Host of the West, it seems unlikely that he did so in order to curtail any scheming of the wounded captain. As has previously been mentioned, Tallow seems to have looked with little favour upon Faramir.
5 As already mentioned, I find myself at a loss to explain this fiction of Tallow’s that Boromir was restored to life, came to Minas Tirith, and stole the Ring. I must assume that the presence of “Mr Elessar” here is coincidental, for I cannot imagine how Tallow might have learnt that Aragorn was in truth present at the hour of Boromir’s death. Likewise, it was for many years not known in Minas Tirith that Boromir succumbed to the lure of the Ring, if passingly, and tried to claim it unto himself. It is near-impossible that Tallow somehow learnt of this.
Concerning Boromir’s jealousy for “Mr Elessar,” though, there is some little more to be said. Again, I cannot believe that Tallow ever learnt that Boromir and Aragorn were acquainted. However, it is very possible that during Tallow's sojourn in Minas Tirith - when the restoration of the Kingship of Gondor and Arnor was achieved - that he also learnt of Boromir’s great pride and lordliness. In afteryears was it wondered by some whether the heir of Denethor might have opposed King Elessar’s claim to the throne, had Boromir lived and it come to the moment of truth. Such idlings are unanswerable, yet not wholly rooted in untruth, and it is possible that Tallow heard such doubts, and that they excited his own shallow and scheming imagination. Hence, his bizarre and otherwise incomprehensible inclusion of a returned, villainous and jealous Boromir here.
6 Why have I subjected myself to the preservation of this buffoonish drivel? Why? What am I doing? How is it that I have dedicated years of my life to recovering and preserving every pitiful scrap of knowledge concerning this, the least and worst Man to live through the turning of the Age? I could have done something truly worthwhile in that time, yet nay, here I am, trapped in a prison of idiocy, baited by my own curiousity. A pox upon the name of the mewling braggart that was Nick Tallow. Likely the included onomatopoeia are in service of Tallow's oral telling of the tale, prompts to facilitate his demonstrating of the "action" in some (doubtless facile and inane) manner.
7 Utter gibberish.
