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To Obi-Wan's pleasant surprise, Boromir sought him out first, rather than the other way around.
The Healers had released him from their care, and he was settling into his new guest quarters. They were airy and spacious, with a lovely window looking out on the valley of Rivendell. Obi-Wan had surreptitiously borrowed a multitude of historical texts from Rivendell's library and was desperately trying to catch himself up on what to his companions would be general knowledge. Well. Perhaps the relative isolation of the Shire would help him there. He had already learned much eavesdropping on Strider - Aragorn's - bemused explanations to his young charges.
Boromir knocked on his door, and only briefly raised an eyebrow at the pile of books. “Is this a bad time?” He asked.
“Not at all,” Obi-Wan said, standing smoothly to retrieve the resting kettle. Still steaming slightly. Possibly oversteeped, he'd been rather preoccupied. Boromir’s mouth twitched, but he accepted the mug when it was passed to him. “I suspect we have much to discuss, you and I,” Obi-Wan reflected grimly as they sat across from each other. “The fact that you sought me out first is certainly heartening.”
Boromir scoffed uncomfortably. “Is it?”
“You volunteered to escort the Ring.” Obi-Wan watched the other man steadily. Boromir grimaced, but said nothing. “I did warn the Council quite vigorously about its effects.” They were quiet for a long moment. Boromir would not look directly at him, pride and something else struggling against the better judgment that had brought him here. “Ask,” Obi-Wan entreated quietly.
“I was so sure, “ Boromir began, biting his lip thoughtfully as he struggled for words. “In the Council chamber. The Ring needed to go to Gondor. We could use it against the Enemy, we could resist its pull and it would save us. It was all so… obvious, so clear that I could see it, and any other course was ludicrous in comparison. I was certain, and then…” he shuddered. “It was like being doused in cold water, and I suddenly didn't understand my thoughts at all.”
Obi-Wan hummed. “Dark Artifacts are corrupting by nature. The Ring is a particularly subtle example of that.” The other man frowned slightly at that, but seemed unwilling to put his troubled thoughts into words.
Or… Obi-Wan gathered a thread of the Force and delicately pressed at the other man's mind. Those broad shoulders tensed further as his eyes flicked up and then around, wary but bewildered. Able to sense a threat, but not understanding what it might be coming from.
Perhaps he had no words to put to his troubled thoughts.
“You are not under its influence just now, you know,” he said conversationally. Boromir went so rigidly still he must have stopped breathing. Aha. “Its range of influence is not very wide, especially here. I suspect you'd have to be in the same room to feel its effects. Your thoughts are your own. For now.”
“I want to protect my people,” he said, his voice strained. “I just… I want to help.”
“I know, Boromir,” he said gently.
“I wanted to use the Ring to protect them. Elrond and Gandalf, and even that - Aragorn. They said the Ring was dangerous, and I didn't… I didn't believe them. I thought they were exaggerating, or they just didn't want Gondor to have it. It made me furious that they would keep it from me.”
“What you have not asked,” Obi-Wan said delicately, “is how much of it was you, and how much was the Ring.”
Boromir blinked at him. “That… - what?” He asked, a thread of desperation to his tone.
“Your desire to protect your people - that is real, and it is all yours,” Obi-Wan said thoughtfully, counting off on his fingers. “Your fear of Sauron - also understandable, and also yours. You fear the failure of this enterprise. Reasonable. It is a risky one, and if we fail, this world gets significantly darker. But tell me truthfully, Boromir. When did the risk of failure become a certainty? In the Council chambers, did you give a moment's thought to what might happen if your plan failed? What would happen to your people then, with the Ring in their midst and you unable to control it?”
“You know I didn't,” he growled. “You apparently presume to know my mind better than I do. Tell me, what else am I thinking? What other faults would you lay out against me?”
Obi-Wan leaned forward. “You cannot fight something you don’t understand. The insistence that the Ring must go to Gondor, that it was the only way that would not end in failure? That was the Ring.” He said intently. “The fears, the desires, the hopes, that was you. All the Ring did was heighten your anxieties and blind you to any solution it could not materially gain from. You want to save your people from Sauron - you fear what will happen if His power grows any further, and it found a way to use that. It took your compassion and fear and used it against you, and if you cannot recognize what it's doing and how, it will happen again.”
They sat in tense silence for a long moment. Boromir was trembling faintly from some strong emotion, though if it was anger at Obi-Wan or fear of the Ring, Obi-Wan could only guess. Boromir dropped his head into his hands. “Why are you telling me all this?” he asked wearily. “Of course I’m afraid, we all are. Why does that matter?”
“You need to know what is in your mind,” he explained carefully, “so that you can recognize what is not. Do you understand?”
For the first time, Boromir looked more thoughtful than troubled. “I trust Gandalf,” he said slowly. “I have known him since I was a boy, and he has been kind to my brother where few are. I trust him.” He looked up. “But I didn't. When he said the Ring was dangerous.”
Obi-Wan smiled. “Yes.”
“That wasn't me,” he said, and it sounded like a revelation. And the first tinge of outrage.
“That was one point the Ring manipulated you on,” Obi-Wan agreed, “but not the first. On one end, you have these: you want to protect your people, you fear Sauron, and you trust Gandalf. At the other end, you hate Sauron, Gandalf is not to be trusted, and you must seize the Ring and damn the consequences. What are the links in the chain? What thoughts led from one to the other? Which ones were yours, and which did the Ring plant or twist?”
Boromir was leaning forward now, determined. “Well?” he asked.
“Well what?”
“What thought was it?”
Obi-Wan shook his head, amused. “That is for you to answer. Despite what you may think, I can’t actually read your mind.”
Boromir sat back with a discouraged huff. “What about you?” he asked. “Did you… did the Ring try to reach you as well?”
Obi-Wan hummed, his mood darkening. “It did, I’m afraid. Dark artifacts are incredibly dangerous. My people are trained to recognize and even resist their pull. There is a vault, deep in the heart of the Temple, where dangerous relics are locked safely away. For a moment, it seemed perfectly reasonable that there was no one in that room qualified to touch it except myself, and that I might have to remove it by force to keep it safe.”
Boromir took another sip of his tea. “That does sound perfectly reasonable,” he said with a tinge of confusion. “If you can resist it - “
Obi-Wan let out a humorless chuckle. “That, yes. That’s the trouble. I am resistant against the pull of the Dark, but I am by no means immune to it. Resistance is a constant struggle, and I am very, very far from my Temple, where my resistance includes a dozen trained Shadows watching for any hint of Darkness and a secure vault to throw it in if my strength fails me. That is quite different from taking the Ring with nowhere to put it, and nothing but time for the Ring to work its manipulations on me.”
“Oh,” Boromir said, wide-eyed.
“That was the faulty link in the chain for me,” he continued easily. “Not too dissimilar to yours, I suppose. I recognized the threat. I wished to protect others from its corruption. I knew that my own ability to resist its power was likely higher than most, due to my training … and the Ring tried to blind me to the consequences should that course fail.”
Boromir swallowed hard. “Your training. You mean to say, you can learn to resist… Dark Artifacts?”
Ah. Now they were getting somewhere. “It is a difficult skill to learn,” he said neutrally.
To his surprise, Boromir drew himself up, expression sharp with anger but determined. “I cannot be the reason this Fellowship fails,” he said. “And from… what happened in the Council.” He faltered. “I will be the reason we fail. I know that I am…weak.” His expression darkened with shame and self-recrimination.
“No, Boromir,” Obi-Wan said gently. “Never that.”
Boromir scoffed angrily. “It took seconds for me to give into temptation. I called it a gift.”
“It took less time than that for a Nazgul to disarm young master Gamgee,” Obi-Wan said sharply. “Do you think he has cause for shame, for being a novice in a skill he has never had a need to know? Do you think Pippin or Merry or Frodo are lesser, because they never learned to fight?”
“Of course not!” He stammered, flushed.
“And neither are you, Boromir. They do not know how to fight, and they go now into danger on the strength of their loyalty alone. We will teach them what they must know. We keep them toward the center when we travel, and at our backs when we fight, because defending them is our purpose. You have never had need to defend against an assault of this nature. I will teach you, and defend you where I can, because in this arena, I know what I am doing, and you do not. It is the same, and there is no shame in it. The only dishonor you could do yourself is to refuse to learn.”
Boromir was frowning at him. “You equate it to learning to fight,” he said slowly.
“It is a fight, Boromir. You must understand that first. The Ring will try to twist your thoughts against you, and your mind will become its battleground.”
"And by fighting the Ring, I would be fighting the will of Sauron himself." He looked down at the table, fiddling with his tea cup. “A skirmish against a small force with an experienced fighter leading you is one thing,” he said slowly. “But… If I wanted to teach the hobbits all they needed to know of war before we reach Minas Tirith, if I wanted them ready for the front line…” he shook his head. “They would collapse in their bedrolls every night with bruises and blisters. I would have to push them to exhaustion. Perhaps beyond it.”
It was not a question. The man was quicker than he gave himself credit for. “Yes,” Obi-Wan answered quietly.
“How long did it take you, to learn to fight in your mind?”
“Years,” he said simply. “I am sorry, Boromir. Understand, I do not have the time to be gentle with you. If you would learn all you need to know in the short time we have, it would have to be by fire.”
His jaw clenched. “What if I cannot? What if this is beyond me? Master Obi-Wan, was it folly for me to volunteer? But how can I refuse? This quest will determine all of our destinies - how can I turn away from it, even if it does carry risk for myself?”
“None of that, now,” he chided. “Your focus determines your reality. Do not let your anxieties cloud your judgment. Boromir.” he took the man’s hands in his own, squeezing reassuringly. “We have a few months yet in Rivendell before we are meant to set out. You have time to learn the basics of shielding before you face the Ring again. And I will be there with you. We have nothing but to try.”
Boromir took a deep breath, then straightened, his expression grim and resolved. “Then try I shall, if you will have me.”
Obi-Wan smiled. "Good. Then let us begin."