For the Firelight Challenge.
Disclaimer: The characters in this story do not belong to me, but are being used for amusement only, and all rights remain with the estate of JRR Tolkien.
Sometimes Boromir wondered what was real. Would he awake in his bed in the Citadel, to find that naked elves in waterfalls, ancient prophecies, and blindingly beautiful women all dissolved in the light of day, as he shook the ale-induced clouds from his head?
Or was Minas Tirith itself a figment of his imagination? Was this valley of trees, waterfalls and strange, unearthly, encounters the only reality?
Outside was twilight grey; flickering firelight illuminated a figure from childhood tales. Surely this was the dream?
A hand shook him, gently.
“You were almost asleep. More tea perhaps? Some cake?” asked Bilbo.
It took me a while, this one - and the idea eventually was sparked off by this older drabble.