Hey, there! So, I'm back with another short one-shot.
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, I just borrowed the characters to play with for a little bit. Don't worry, I shall return them in good working order. ;)
I hope you enjoy, and as always, please leave me a review to let me know what you think. (Please, no flames; those are for fireplaces and have no place in fanfiction.)
Silver Trumpets
by Knowing Grace
Arien* raised her fiery head over the horizon just as the company of the King topped the rise. Below them lay the Fields of Pelennor where many had fought and bled together for the freedom of Middle-earth mere months before. The Mounds of Mundburg, where fallen Rohirrim and Gondorian alike had been buried in honour, now sported a light dusting of green where new grass was beginning to sprout. The scars that war had left behind were slowly being healed. Crops were being resown, homes were being rebuilt, and the lives of the innocent were finally returning to normal.
Aragorn lifted his gaze and looked beyond the fields towards Minas Tirith: the City of Kings. His heart leaped in joy at the sight of it. "'Tis good to be home." he said, patting his steed, Roheryn, on the neck.
Far off in the distance, the clear ringing of silver trumpets could be heard on the morning breeze, bringing a bittersweet memory to the forefront of the newly-crowned King's mind. "My path has led me here." he murmured softly, gazing at the White Tower of Ecthelion which was bathed in the soft, pink light of dawn.
A pang of grief smote his heart.
Oh, Boromir! Would that you were here to see it with us.
A warm hand touched his shoulder, and he turned to see Faramir beside him, his brow furrowed in concern. Aragorn smiled. "I am well my friend, merely lost in memories."
At length, he gathered Roheryn's reins. "Come, Faramir, let us enter the city together, you and I. And let all the people know: The Lords of Gondor have returned!*"
~ Finis ~
*Arien is a Maia, a fire spirit, whose task is guiding the sun.
This story was based on the below conversation from the film between Aragorn and Boromir while they rested in Lothlorien:
Boromir: "Have you ever seen it, Aragorn? The White Tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver. Its banners caught high in the morning breeze. Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?"
Aragorn: "I have seen the White City, long ago."
Boromir: "One day, our paths will lead us there. And the tower guard shall take up the call: 'The Lords of Gondor have returned!'"