What if Boromir lived?

1| The White Wizard

The fellowship charged east, along the border of Fangorn Forest, to the gap of Rohan, to Isengard.
Out of breath, the six hunters stoped to rest.
"Why are we stopping?" Questioned Legolas,
"Every second we tarry, the Uruk's gain more ground!"
"For heaven's sake! We have been running all day, we all tire, except our hardy dwarf friend, no doubt,"
Gimli nodded in approval
"we must stop for a while!" Argued Boromir.
"Legolas is right, we must carry on if we are to catch the Orcs." Interjected Aragorn, "However, the day is almost out, and even Uruk-hai must rest. We will allow five hours before we carry on."

The fellowship made camp and fell asleep, all except for Boromir, he could not rest. Instead, he looked out at the plains of Rohan before him, the wind making ripples in the tall grass and rustling the tree leaves behind him. He looked to the south, and dreamt of Minas-Tirith in all its splendour, the tiers of the city bustling with civilians, going about their daily lives and merchants trying to sell their goods. The palace sat on the highest level which housed the throne in which the mighty kings of men once sat, and in the courtyard, the white tree, the symbol which served as Gondor's coat of arms, displayed on every banner, surcoat and shield that were bravely carried into battle by the valiant soldiers of Gondor. He thought of his younger brother Faramir, a captain of the Ithilien rangers, their father despised him, saw him as a failure, a disgrace; wished to make certain that Faramir would never succeed him as Steward. However, Boromir lived his brother more than anything in the world and longed to see him again.

Suddenly, a blinding light flashed before Boromir, and he saw the white city again, its streets awash with blood, corpses of people he knew piled upon messy heaps. The severed head of Faramir rested on top flag pole that bore both the white hand of Isengard and the eye of Mordor. There was another flash, and he saw the white tree engulfed in fire!
A deep booming voice called out to him, "Boromir! You are here for a reason! Stop this, stop this from ever happening!"
"I will have no part in this trickery Saruman!" Boromir called out," Do you hear me, you Demon, no part!"
"So be it."
Boromir was transported to a pebbly river bank, and he saw Faramir, kneeling down. He approached, calling out to Faramir with no reply. In his little brother's hands was his horn, cloven in two.
In the river, a few meters ahead was a boat. The two brothers got up and walked towards it, and to his horror, Boromir saw himself, three arrow wounds in his stomach.
"Listen to me Boromir,"
The voice got closer
"I fear I have made a grave mistake in bringing you back, but what's done is done."
"Only you are able to fix my errors Boromir,"
The voice was standing right behind him now.
"Only you."
Boromir drew his sword and simultaneously spun around, aiming to decapitate the source of the voice.
Instead, his blow was caught by a white staff, held by a man dressed in all white, his face concealed by some supernatural light.
In response, Boromir retreated a few steps back and entered a guard position, the tip of his sword pointing at his opponent's throat. Boromir immediately recognised the voice's face, it was...
"Gandalf!" Boromir practically shouted, in a mix of happiness and shock, "you're supposed to be dead!"
"Indeed, that was what they used to call me, Gandalf the Grey. Now I suppose it's Gandalf the White."
"I thought you to be Saruman, I'm sorry for attacking you."
"Well, I suppose I am Saruman, in a manner of speaking, of course. Or Saruman as he should have been."
Boromir sheathed his sword.
"Anyway, there is much we should talk about, but let us find a more appropriate place." Said Gandalf, as he tapped his staff on the floor, transporting the two away from the river bank to a clearing in a dense forest.
"What is this important information we must talk of?" Asked Boromir, seemingly unaffected by Gandalf's magic.
"Listen closely to me, Boromir, for I shall not repeat myself, the world of men is now facing the biggest threat it has ever seen. The Dark Lord Sauron has marshalled a large army, its sole purpose to destroy the world of men. You are to play an important role in the war to come, but that must be discussed at a later date. For now, head to Edoras, the people of Rohan are in great peril, and need the fellowship in their time of need."
Boromir understood, and began to leave, but first he asked one question," Earlier, you said that you made a 'grave mistake' in 'bringing me back'. Back from what? And why is it such a mistake?"
"We have no time to discuss such matters at the moment," Gandalf replied, "but I will say that you were supposed to die at Amôn-Hen, only by the will of the Valar themselves do you still walk amongst the living."

Boromir was transported back to the fellowship's camp. He had fallen asleep. Standing above him were Merry and Pippin, prodding him with sticks.
"Do you think he's dead?" Asked Pippin.
"Do I look bloody dead to you!" Snapped Boromir, sitting up.
"Not at all, mister Boromir, its just that you were convulsing in your sleep, like some malicious entity had taken hold of you." Said Merry, as the duo looked up sheepishly at Boromir, now towering several feet above them.
Legolas looked off into the distance as Aragorn asked, "Legolas, what do your elf eyes see!"
"The Uruk-hai head south-west, and they're being tailed by a group of Rohirrim a few miles behind. They're chasing the Uruk to Isengard!"