Hello and welcome to my LotR story! Please enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings. J.R.R Tolkien, Peter Jackson do respectively. I only own my Oc's.

Also if they are ooc I'm sorry! This is my first time writing Lord of the Rings!

Chapter 1

The battle was finally over. Smoke rose in into the atmosphere above a still standing city from still lingering fires of dead enemies and the air was filled with joyous cries and the smell of victory. Osgiliath had been avenged by the Gondorians and the filth of Mordor had fled for now. Amidst the calling men, a lone figure rose up on the high battlements and unsheathed his sword. Most of the cries calmed a bit to hear what Boromir, the Captain-General of Gondor, would say.

"This city was once the jewel of the kingdom!" he shouted and a cheer rose from the many men below. "A light of beauty and music and so it shall be once more!" The crowds gave another wild shout of triumph and a chuckle came from behind a figure watching the scene with a tired smile.

"Brother is at it again I see." The figure chuckled back and turned to peer over his shoulder. Behind him stood his second oldest brother, Faramir, who had a smirk upon his lips.

"'Riveting the crowds' as he calls it." The young man agreed with a nod of head. Boromir, Faramir, and Haromir were the sons of Denethor, the Steward of Gondor, though at the moment they were equal with the men they had fought along side with.

"Harry, I wonder…how is Ayesha?" Faramir asked politely, tilting his head at his younger brother. Haromir's startling blue eyes took on a grieved look.

"Well…but troubled." Haromir replied and the teasing fell from his older brother's face.

"What ails her?"

"She is afraid for the war ahead." Haromir replied with a small scoff. Faramir nodded.

"Yes, I suppose all women feel the same about their loves, especially one as young as yours."

"Yes…but sometimes I believe she wishes we had not been betrothed so hastily."

"Do you?"

"I would have liked more time to prepare yes." Haromir murmured. "I do love her. I only wish to have had the chance to make her truly happy."

"You mean a large frilly parade of love? One of which would last the entire day?"

"Only the best for her." Haromir replied a twinkle in his eyes. "Perhaps when you fall in love, you too will know this feeling."

"Oh, yes the feeling of being at a woman's beck and call sounds delightful." Faramir teased and Harry snorted. Of the three brothers, Harry was the only one betrothed and had been for a year. His father had insisted he start early and at seventeen he was given the hand of Ayesha, the

"I can see why the women flee from you." He teased and Faramir narrowed his equally blue eyes.

"Tease away, brother." He waved and then they both turned at the sound of large clapping.

"Speech done already?" Harry mocked and Faramir laughed.

"Indeed, he seems to have gone much faster today. Let us go and greet him." Faramir led the way through the crowds towards a particularly large group which surrounded their elder brother. Boromir bore the same hair and eye color of his brothers, but he stood a foot or so taller than they.

"Brothers!" Boromir greeted and he hugged them both as they approached him.

"Good speech." Faramir spoke teasingly. "Nice and short."

"Yes, very nicely done." Harry agreed and Boromir laughed and tucked an arm around him ruffling his hair.

"Leaves more time for drinking!" The three broke into boisterous laughter and then Boromir called over everyone's heads: "Bring on the ale! These men are thirsty!" Boromir steered Harry and Faramir towards the barrels of ale as they were brought in. They went and stood near the outer wall of the city and they stood there for a moment eyeing the cheering men. Once the barrels were sat, Boromir wasted no time in gathering three pints and bringing the frothy drinks back to his brothers.

"Remember this day, my brothers." Boromir said as he handed the pints to them. "Today…life is good." He clinked glasses with them and Haromir took a particularly large swig. Faramir smirked at him and guffawed as white foam stuck to his brother's scruff around his chin. Haromir's only covered his chin and around his mouth, while both Faramir and Boromir had scruff that covered both cheeks.

"How goes it old man?" Boromir asked and Harry narrowed his eyes before blowing the foam from one his cup and into Faramir's and Boromir's faces. Even as men they still acted as children. The older brothers began to laugh and wiped the foam off as Harry grinned at them. Suddenly Faramir's face turned grave.

"What?" Boromir asked in a laugh, thinking that the middle brother was up to something. Faramir frowned and took a small sip of his ale to calm his slowly racing nerves.

"He's here." He toned and Haromir stopped slouching along the wall. Boromir groaned.

"Only one moment of peace can he not give us that?" He asked as he spotted the Steward making his way towards them.

"One would think." Harry murmured and moved aside to stand near Faramir as Boromir turned to greet their father.

"Where is he? Where is Gondor's finest? Where is my first-born?" Denethor called out with a proud smile at Boromir. Faramir looked away from their praising father at his choice of words and Haromir frowned.

"Father." Boromir stated, looking slightly jaded and came to embrace him. Denethor was their father and so he was respected by his three sons, but he favored Boromir above the rest with Haromir coming into a close second. Faramir was the bane of his existence it seemed and often expressed such notions.

"They say you vanquished the enemy almost single-handedly." Denethor laughed and Boromir shook his head.

"They exaggerate." Boromir laughed and he gestured to his brothers behind him, making Denethor's cool eyes land on them. "The victory belongs on Faramir and Haromir also."

"But for Faramir the city would still be standing." The Steward replied coolly regarding his younger sons with a critical eye. "Were you not entrusted to protect it?"

"I would have done, but our numbers were too few."

"Oh, too few?" Denethor mocked and Boromir winced from behind him as their father went on his usual tongue-lashing rant. "You let the enemy walk in and take it on a whim!"

"Father!" Haromir interrupted and Denethor looked over at his youngest. "Do not-"

"You, my youngest, have done your father proud." Denethor ignored the rage in his Faramir's eyes and embraced Harry instead. Haromir stiffed for a moment, but allowed his father to hug him. "You will make a mighty general one day if you continue to follow in Boromir's footsteps."

"…Yes, father." Haromir replied and then Denethor cast Faramir a dark look.

"Always you cast a poor reflection on me."

Faramir winced, looking hurt. "That was not my intent." He murmured and looked away.

"You give him no credit, and yet he tries to do your will." Boromir hissed at his father and looked at him sharply as he walked away. Denethor followed him casting another look at Faramir. Once they were out of sight, Faramir cursed loudly and tossed his half-drunken ale across the courtyard.

"I cannot believe I am still the center of his hatred!"

"He is too blinded to see the damage he does." Haromir murmured. "He praises me for no reason, when he should be praising you." Faramir turned to his brother and grabbed his shoulder, turning him to face him.

"Why do you say this? I have no need of his false praise."

"I cannot…will not take credit for something you have done."

"You have done many things that deserve praise, little brother. Do not let our father's hatred of me concern you. He has done it for many years, you know this."

"He forced me to become betrothed, only to get it out of the way. I would have waited until a better time." Haromir closed his eyes in pain and then opened them again, showing unshed tears of anger.

"My fiancée suffers with him about. He constantly speaks as if he knows what our marriage with bring for Gondor. Ayesha is afraid."

"Afraid?"

"She has had no prior training to being a Lady of Gondor."

"She will learn in time." Faramir murmured calmly and Haromir nodded. "Father will see to her."

"Yes and that worries me as well." Haromir sighed and leaned against the wall for support. "I feel as if he's getting worse, Far, he's getting much worse." Faramir fell silent and then heard his brother sigh softly.

"He spoke to her the other day." Faramir did not ask who. He knew all too well how often their father spoke to the ghost of their mother, Finduilas. "I do not understand…"

"Nor do I."

"…Not in Rivendell!" Boromir shouted, moving back into the courtyard and both brothers turned to look at him. Denethor followed looking slightly cross.

"Would you deny your own father?" The man shouted at Boromir's back and Faramir took a step.

"If there is need to go into Rivendell, send me in his stead." Faramir offered and Denethor narrowed his eyes.

"You?" he scoffed bitterly and then added mockingly: "Oh, I see, a chance for Faramir, captain of Gondor, to show his quality."

"Father!" Haromir snapped, but Denethor was on a roll and would not tarry.

"I think not. I trust this mission only to your brother. The one who will not fail me." Denethor turned on his heels then and started off, taking a few men with him and Boromir slowly turned to his brothers. Faramir slowly closed his eyes and leaned heavily against the wall.

"I am truly sorry. I do not understand him." Boromir murmured and laid a hand upon Faramir's shoulder. "Do not be angry, Far."

"I am fine brother, for it is not you I have anger for. Though I do not hold anger to him either." Faramir's eyes filled with pain and longing, turned towards the cloudy grey sky and looked up at the flag of Gondor waving in the wind and Boromir and Haromir's eyes followed.

Dinner that night was unusually tense and silent. The sound of clinking wine goblets and silverware and the occasional clearing of a throat could be heard. Denethor watched those at his table with slightly narrowed eyes. It was unlike his boys to be so silent and unhappy, except for Faramir…that was expected from him. He looked at Haromir and smiled. He couldn't wait to tell the young boy the good news.

Boromir looked across the table and saw Ayesha gripping her wine goblet tightly in one pale hand, her eyes trained on her lap. Her food lay untouched upon her plate and Boromir wondered what ailed her. He looked to her left to see Haromir eating quietly, glancing at his love in concern, but not daring to speak. Boromir then eyed Faramir, who seemed to be enjoying the silence.

Feeling eyes on him, Faramir looked up at Boromir and followed where his head moved. He took in Lady Ayesha winding and twisting her hands nervously in her lap, her eyes never leaving her plate. Frowning, he looked at Boromir who narrowed his eyes and tilted his head towards their father. Understanding came to him then and he looked at Haromir to see if the lad had noticed.

He had. Haromir had seen the smile his father sent his way and heard the sharp intake of breath from his bride to be. At the age of sixteen, Ayesha was the jewel of Gondor and her face was the most beloved of all. She had eyes as green as the shining emeralds that were embedded in their fine silver chalices and her hair was a dark as night. They had met at a party held by his father two years ago and had instantly fallen in love.

Haromir wondered what ailed her and took one of the hands that were twisting and winding in her lap. She looked up at his touch and met his gaze with tears in her own. Frowning, Haromir brushed away a stray one that fell and she turned her face from him when he did; his father did not see this exchange. His brother's however, did and grew worried. Haromir dropped his hand looked to his father.

Denethor finally put down his silverware and took a long drought of his red wine. Feeling eyes upon him, he looked over the rim of his glass to see his sons, all three, looking at him. He smiled and set the goblet back down.

"The council has decided and have approved of my sending you to Rivendell." Denethor stated, smiling proudly at Boromir. His eldest son shifted in his seat.

"That is…good news." He finally answered breathlessly and Denethor's smile widened.

"I am glad you approve my son." His eyes flickered to Haromir who straightened in his seat. "How is Haromir fairing with his training?"

"Well." Boromir said truthfully. "He is a much better shot with his arrows than Faramir or I." Faramir nodded with praise in his eyes.

"And with his sword?"

"Very well." Boromir nodded and then smirked. "He is almost as good as I am."

"Ha." Haromir snorted. "I could kill twice as many orcs as you could."

"Keep telling yourself that, little brother." Boromir teased and Denethor grinned madly.

"Good, good." He approved and then waved a hand at him. "You will be accompanying your brother to Rivendell."

"What!?" All three of his sons shouted at once. Denethor nodded.

"Yes, I believe that Boromir will need aid and you my youngest son are the one who I approve of going." He patted Haromir's hand and the boy blinked. Faramir frowned at the table top and Boromir locked eyes with his father. Ayesha took in air and Haromir looked at her in concern.

"I do not think that, Haromir should go." She insisted then, looking up to meet Denethor's gaze. "He is needed here and if what you say about this mission is true…. I do not wish him to have to bear that." Haromir took her hand to comfort her and Denethor narrowed his eyes at her.

"Would you have him stay here and tend to your whim?"

"Do not speak to her like that." Haromir frowned and she looked at him in alarm.

"She is a lady of Gondor now and must act as such!" Denethor retorted. "My dear lady, do you not wish your future husband to have gone to battle and won over a mighty enemy?"

"It is not the tittles, I am marrying my lord. It is the man."

"True enough, but will you deny him this chance to prove his worth to you?"

"I need no proof." She responded coldly. "He already has my heart." Denethor waved a hand at her dismissively.

"Folly. That is all it is. A woman's folly." She bowed her head, knowing no argument could be won. Denethor locked eyes with Haromir.

"You will accompany your brother to Rivendell and do the task asked of you."

"…Yes, Father." Haromir answered lowly and a scraping of a chair had him looking up in time to see Ayesha flee the room, purple skirts fluttering. Her sobs could be heard just outside the room and Haromir swallowed guiltily. There was nothing he could say to ease her mind on this matter.