An Excerpt from Boromir’s Journal

A missing excerpt from Boromir’s journal, perhaps? Find out what REALLY happened up on the slopes of the Misty Mountains…

“Boromir, what are you doing?!”, the little hobbit screamed at me. He really does sound like a wee girl. He knows what I’m after, he just doesn’t want to give it to me.

“No, Boromir! It’s mine! My own! You can’t have it!” So annoying, really. I can’t begin to say how irritating this whining gets all the time. It’s always something. Boromir, don’t look at me like that! Boromir, you’re walking too fast! Boromir, I’m cold, give me your blanket. He’s the Ring-bearer, not the bloody Queen of Sheba. But this time he’d gone too far. It’s mine, and I’m going to take it.

“You can’t keep it from me you pint sized minion of doom!” I yelled. “It should have gone to Gondor!” Oh jeez, the twerp was starting to run up the mountain. You know, all the eating those foul creatures do seriously stunts their brain activity. I don’t know how he thinks he’s going to outrun me, I mean honestly—

“Just hand it over, Frodo, and no one gets hurt—ouch!”
…Okay, that’s going a bit far. He had no call to kick me there! I’m going to need heirs at some point, you know! Little twerp is trying my patience. I gave chase up the mountain only to see Frodo running straight for the hunting trap Aragorn had set up earlier. How that man manages to find pits in the middle of forests amazes me, but then I’ll deal with him later. I wasn’t kidding when I said Gondor needs no king. Especially not one who considers monthly bathing ‘overdoing it’. I can’t tell anymore: does he smell like a dead skunk or a rotting mule? Whatever it is, it’s terrible. So the fool hobbit fell in the hole. I’ve got him right where I want him…this will be a happy day indeed for the kingdom of Gondor…

“Hand it over, Hobbit.” I said as I stood with manly presence at the top of the gaping pit, brandishing my sword. I wish I had a mirror because that had to have been rather “dashing”. Mother would be proud!

“Alright, alright…” Frodo said as he reached into his vest pocket. “You can have it…take it, just don’t kill me!” He held his palm out towards me.

“The Ring? Why in Eru’s name would I want that hunk of tacky metal? I mean, really, I don’t even think it’s in the right size for me.” I jumped into the pit with Frodo, who cowered immediately. I reached into his vest pocket and felt the thing I had been wanting.

“No, not that!” he yelled and tried to twist away.
“Yes!” I cried, as I grabbed the object and jumped out of the pit. It was shallow, what can I say? I held my toothbrush high in the morning breeze as Frodo took to crying in his pit. Triumph is once again mine!

What? What?! Don’t look at me like that! There’s no excuse for bad hygiene! Oh, you’re an Aragorn fancier, aren’t you? You make me sick…

by Trignifty