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Boromir had just turned thirty when he received the news. The day began just as any other, with early morning drills and some sparring practice. When the highest commanding officer called him into his office, the yard had gone quiet. Nervousness curdled in his stomach, but he kept on a brave face as he answered the summons. As far as he was aware, he hadn’t done anything to warrant a scolding, and their ranks had suffered minimal casualties in the most recent skirmishes with the Orcs of Mordor and their allies from the South and East. Boromir could not fathom the meaning behind this sudden meeting with his superior, but he hoped that it bore fair tidings.
He breathed in and out slowly, trying to tamp down his nausea, then waited for the soldiers posted outside the office to let him in. Upon entering the room, he found his superior in a pleasant mood. However, the crates stacked up beside his desk gave him pause.
“Ah, Boromir. Good, you are here.” Boromir went to Attention.
“Sir.”
“At ease.” Boromir clasped his hands behind his back and relaxed his posture. “You will have to mind the clutter. It will not look like this much longer.”
“Permission to ask a question, sir?”
“Permission granted.”
“Are you going somewhere, sir?”
The man paused his reading and looked met his gaze. Crow’s feet creased around his eyes as he smiled. Something about the smile made Boromir uneasy. It almost looked like the expression of someone who was about to share major news.
“I am. And there is no need for such apprehension.”
“Then I beg your forgiveness, sir.”
“I have served my country for many years. I have loved doing so, and I am grateful for what I have been able to accomplish and for the opportunity to lead such great men. But there comes a moment when it is time to pass the torch.” As the man was speaking, Boromir thought that the gray in his hair seemed to stand out more than usual. Or perhaps he had not been this close to him for so long that he did not see it. “I am retiring.”
“That is good news, sir. I wish you well.”
“Thank you, Boromir. I have received permission from the Lord Steward to hang up my armor, and he has stated that he wishes for you to replace me.” Boromir stiffened.
“I… don’t know what to say, sir. While I am honored… and it is a role I have long desired… I want to earn it through my own merit, not because of who my father is and what he might want.” The man nodded and his smile deepened.
“I understand. And that is an honorable stance. But I was the one who put forth your name. Your father agreed, as I expected he would.”
“Oh.”
“I remember when you first joined the army. I was younger then, though perhaps considered old by Gondorian standards. I took it upon myself to look after you, not only because you are Lord Denethor’s son, but also because you reminded me of my younger self, eager to do the right thing and to prove yourself. The way you rose in the ranks and took new recruits under your wing without being taught that was admirable. I can think of no one more deserving of the position. And unlike myself and my most recent predecessors, you will not only be in command of this great army but also hold the title of Captain-General.”
Boromir mouthed the words. Captain-General. It was what he had wanted ever since he was a boy. It was a title that could only be held by a son of the King of Gondor or of the Ruling Steward. Under normal circumstances, the title should go to a second-born son, while the heir was given the title of High Warden of the White Tower. However, Faramir had told him that he had no interest in being Captain-General, for he did not love the path of a soldier, and he wished to join the Rangers of Ithilien, patrolling the borderlands rather than engaging in warfare.
“I am most grateful, sir,” Boromir said with a slight bow. The man stood and held out a hand for him to shake.
“I am confident that you will do well, and I can rest easy knowing that the men are in capable hands.”
Boromir clasped the offered hand and shook it. The uneasiness in his stomach began to lighten into a fluttering sensation. After just ten years, he had made it to the top. He had achieved the goal he had set for himself when he was a boy.
“Sir, when will you be officially retiring?”
“On the first day of the new month, this office is yours. As long as there are no great threats leveled against us—Valar watch over us—I will be setting my affairs in order until then.”
Boromir cleared his throat awkwardly. When he worded it like that, it sounded like he was saying he was dying.
“Sir, should I withhold this from the men?”
“I will make a formal announcement in a few days. But you may tell them, if you wish. It will not be a secret for long, and I know they could use whatever morale boost they can get.”
“Yes, sir.”
Boromir could hear in the man’s tone that the conversation was reaching his end, so he went to Attention again and saluted. His superior returned the salute and then handed him a folded piece of parchment.
“Give this to your commanding officer.”
“Yes, sir.”
After Boromir left the office, he returned to the training grounds and gave the note to the officer on duty. It turned out to be an order to dismiss the men early, as if he had anticipated their excitement about Boromir’s promotion and would not be able to fully concentrate on their drills. As soon as the commander gave the order to dismiss, they all swarmed around Boromir, the higher-ranking and officers of equal rank being the closest, while the enlisted men kept a respectable distance. Everyone made a path for Faramir as he came over from the archery range.
“What did you get called in for?” he asked.
“I have been named Captain-General.” The crowd churned like a raging sea, and their voices nearly drowned out Faramir’s response.
“Congratulations, brother. You have worked so hard for this.”
“Thank you.”
Congratulatory words and well wishes came from all directions, and Boromir did his best to reply to all of them. He was sure bruises were starting to form on his back and shoulders from all of the pats he received.
“When do you start?” Faramir asked.
“On the first day of the new month. A formal announcement will be made in a few days,” Boromir said, trying to talk over the excited soldiers. “But today is a day worth celebrating! We have been dismissed early, so let us go have some drinks, good food—well, decent food—and greater company!”
Faramir looked like he wanted to protest, but he conceded. The men’s enthusiasm was infectious, and though Faramir did not want to encourage heavy consumption of ale, he did not want to deprive his brother of simple pleasures. After all, life was too short to deny a man his happiness.