He walked.
He walked because he had left his horse behind in Imladris, along with his hopes and dreams.
Where he was headed, he was neither certain nor really cared. "King of both Gondor and Arnor", was it? When all he owned was shoved into a small pack that barely weighed him down, or hung at his waist in case of danger? When his "heritage" was metal scraps and a ring?
Once he had thought to be Imladhrim. Then he had thought to be Dúnedain. Eventually he'd hoped to be husband.
And now, nothing.
This direction seemed a good one…