For her birthday, Nessime asked for something about Boromir or Théodred.
Boromir feels accusingly the stony gazes of the kings of Westernesse: Anárion... and Isildur. But the kings abandoned us. The Stewards were more faithful, kept Gondor with living men. The Rohirrim are surer guards than memory wrought in stone, Théodred more certain a help than—
Aragorn glances sharply west. Boromir sees naught there, yet a shiver takes him. Premonition, whispering water-swift, leaves him cold: Seek not strength without—Rohan shan't deliver Gondor.
Salvation lies inward when you're alone...
Forgive me, Frodo, hobbits cannot understand...