Anyway, these parallell images of Boromir's shield at rest have been haunting me, because they seem (especially to me, maybe, who has such innate distrust of the motives of Galadriel) to be the bookends of his fall. I know the seeds of his downfall are already long planted, but after Galadriel invades his mind, he is unable to look away.
It does not seem accidental to me that she ghosts through this first shield frame. But here, he is still in charge of his heart - the sword crossed over the shield, And he is still surrounded by the support of his friends (though I am quite broody over movie Aragorn failing him at this important moment.) I kept stopping the frame to look at the way he is laid out on the ground, and starting to weep with anticipation.
The shield, which he has lugged all over arda, left behind at the moment he most needs protection - so symbolic to me. I can't help but feel even he has stopped trying to protect himself. His gear lies laid out like a bed - or a bier - waiting for his body.
And though his death is the least gratuitous death in any fiction I know, I don't want his heart in that place as he goes to his fate. So, I weep and weep and keep using photoshop to remove his arrows. (three, as if his accepting the three arrows will atone for the three we saw in Isildur. Then passing in state in the arms of Anduin, where Isildur was dragged down in shame.) And the mantle passes from one solstice king to the other. The blade of the winter solstice king that was broken is reforged, and the blade of the stewards lies broken. And so does my heart.
I wish I could show him that his descent into madness, unlike his father's, is not about his own ego but actually about his greatness of heart - what a terrible weapon to have had used against him. He dies, as he always lived, defending. Not preserving an image, not deluding himself about his motives, not looking to shirk any blame.
He did not give his heart to the fire as his father did, but to the Flame of the West - the rising sun in Aragorn's hand.