As I'm sure my readers have noticed by now, I like to follow the original storyline as much as possible. That said, what's the point of writing a fanfic if you can't change certain events so they're more to your liking? So in this chapter we have another unexpected consequence of Boromir surviving; the chance to 'fix' something that always bothered me in the book. And of course, the reintroduction of a favorite character we haven't seen since the first chapter.

Hope you enjoy it! As always, reviews are extremely welcome.

Chapter 25

Halbarad of the Dúnedain grimaced as another wave of enemies surged toward him. The battle was not proceeding at all the way he had hoped it might. It had started so well—anticipating allies and an easy victory, many of Sauron's more craven soldiers had broken and run when the ships proved instead to be filled with more foes. But not all had fled; the hardier orcs and men serving the Dark Lord had remained to fight, seemingly more determined than ever to prevail. Aragorn and the Gray Company had found a small rise just north of the docks and prepared to take their stand against the horde. Halbarad planted the banner in the earth and faced them at his captain's side, expecting to remain there come what may.

Alas, it was not to be; a small group of Easterling cavalry charged them, the taunting banner a focus for their ire. The Easterlings were defeated, but not before Halbarad and a few men from Belfalas were swept away and cut off from the larger group. They had acquitted themselves well, for a time. But one by one the other men had fallen, and now the ranger stood alone.

It was maddening! Each new group of orcs he cut down immediately replaced by another, preventing him from rejoining the other Dúnedain. A familiar voice called his name and he glanced up to see Aragorn staring in his direction, consternation on his face. Halbarad responded with what he hoped was a reassuring wave—he had no desire to put his captain's life at risk to save his own. He set his mind firmly to the task of slaying the enemies between his position and his companions; he was beginning to tire and knew he could not last much longer on his own.

A hard blow caught the side of his helmet and he was sent sprawling, his senses reeling from the impact. There was a roar of triumph above him and he cleared his eyes just in time to see a huge orc looming over him, sword raised. Halbarad rolled desperately to avoid the stroke, losing his grip on his own sword in the process. He felt the thump of the orc's blade as it struck the churned earth next to him. Scrambling frantically to reach his weapon, he pushed from his mind the thought that these were likely the last moments of his life. His fingers had just touched the hilt of his sword when the orc growled furiously, "You're done, Tark!" as it lifted the sword above its head.

Then the ranger heard another cry, this one from a man's throat, and as he watched in astonishment as the orc went down under a horse's flailing hooves, its chest a ruin of black blood. Relief flooded Halbarad as he gazed at the man responsible for this timely intervention, thinking at first that the rider must be one of the Rohirrim that were still plentiful on the field. But when the man dismounted to finish the orc, Halbarad could see that his surcoat was emblazoned with the White Tree of Gondor. He was a big man, tall and strongly built, with the commanding presence of a seasoned officer. As he watched, the Gondorian quickly dispatched the orcs that still pressed around them, and it was clear that he was also a warrior of no mean experience or skill. Soon the orcs learned that the two men were no easy prey and sought weaker targets elsewhere, gaining them a brief respite.

The man turned his attention to Halbarad. "Are you injured?" he asked, his green eyes clouded with concern.

"My head is still ringing from where the brute struck me," Halbarad replied, "but otherwise I am unwounded."

The man smiled reassuringly and offered his arm to the ranger to help him rise, "We'll have that looked at, to be sure." Halbarad noted in passing that the man used his right arm to assist him even though it meant he must transfer his sword to his left hand to do so. Then comprehension dawned and Halbarad understood something he had noticed but not recognized as important before. The man was a superb fighter—the ranger had seen few better—but he fought with his left arm tucked awkwardly near his body, quite unlike the free movement expected of one so skilled. His rescuer was himself injured!

"You have my most sincere thanks, sir," Halbarad told the stranger with a slight bow. "Had you not intervened I'm afraid the swine would have had the best of me."

The Gondorian grinned in reply, "After inviting Aragorn to Minas Tirith I would be a poor host indeed to let one his company be skewered by these orc scum outside the very gates of my city." His eyes narrowed shrewdly, "And not just a companion of Aragorn's, but a kinsman as well, lest my eyes deceive me. You have the look of him."

"You see truly, sir, I am his cousin. Halbarad of the Dúnedain at your service," he added, bowing more deeply this time. The ranger had been doing his own assessment of his rescuer, and it pointed to one conclusion, that this was no common soldier. Although the man's coloring was lighter than Aragorn and his kin, his height and fair features suggested that he was of high Númenórean descent as well. In addition, his armor and weapons were of excellent quality, and his tone when he spoke of his invitation to Aragorn struck Halbarad as much more proprietary than the pride of an ordinary citizen. This man had good reason to call Minas Tirith his city.

"And I believe I could name you as well, my lord," Halbarad continued, "had not Aragorn told me that Boromir of Gondor was wounded near to death not two ten-days ago."

A look of dismay crossed the man's face, and he murmured in surprise, "Aragorn has spoken of me?" Before Halbarad could respond he regained his composure and nodded, his mouth twisted in wry smile, "No matter. Well met, Halbarad of the Dúnedain," he said heartily. "Yes, I am Boromir. I am not yet the fighter I was, but I am mending, thanks to the good efforts of Aragorn, among others." He glanced around, "Which reminds me; perhaps we should rejoin your fellows? Not only do I have much to say to your captain, but the orcs seem to be gathering their courage. After all, it would be a pity if we were to get ourselves killed and let a good rescue go to waste."

Boromir was right; the orcs had regrouped and appeared to be readying themselves to charge the two men. Soon they were both mounted on the Gondorian's horse and on their way. Thankfully, the distance between their location and the Gray Company, which had seemed so vast when the ranger was alone on foot, was quickly traversed by two mounted men with swords at the ready to dissuade the enemy from attacking.

As they neared the others, the Gondorian nodded toward the glittering banner, "Words cannot express what it meant to me when that unfurled and I knew that all was not lost…" He shook himself, then added, "But how did Aragorn come by it? I am certain he was not carrying it when we travelled together."

"The Lady Arwen made with her own hands, and entrusted it to me for delivery," Halbarad told him, rightly proud that he had been chosen for such a task. "Her brothers accompanied us as well."

Boromir's eyebrows rose. "Indeed?" he replied in a thoughtful tone.

Their approach had been noted; Aragorn's company parted to let them pass and the Gondorian reined in his mount next to the banner. Halbarad slid off the horse and went immediately to clasp arms with Aragorn who was waiting for them, a bemused look on his face.

"Welcome back, cousin, we were afraid we had lost you," Aragorn said, smiling warmly. "You are uninjured?"

"Yes, thanks to the quick actions of a friend of yours," Halbarad replied, nodding toward the Gondorian, who was just then dismounting. Oddly, even after telling the ranger that he needed to speak to Aragorn he was hanging back, seemingly reluctant to approach, as if he were unsure of his welcome.

If that was the case, his fears proved groundless; for Aragorn crossed the distance and pulled Boromir into a rough embrace, relief and joy clear on his face. "Boromir!" he exclaimed, then released the man to hold him at arm's length. "How good it is to see you again, well and hale! I cannot tell you how much it grieved us to leave you so near death. Merry and Pippin were distraught, thinking you had died to save them, so I assured them you still lived but I knew your survival was far from certain…"

He broke off, looking distressed, but the Gondorian hastened to reassure him, his voice rough with emotion, "Aragorn, you were right to leave me to save the hobbits, never doubt that!" He shook his head impatiently, "I have never faulted you for your choice, as Morloth will attest."

"Ah, Morloth," Aragorn smiled, "a remarkable lady, that much was apparent even from our brief acquaintance. It seems I chose well in entrusting you to her care."

To Halbarad's surprise, Boromir reddened and stammered, "Ah, yes, you could say that."

Aragorn gave him an inquiring look, but responded neutrally, "An amazing recovery given your injuries, and you have clearly not lost your skill with a sword."

"I am not entirely recovered; using my shield is still beyond me, but I am fortunate that my sword arm was uninjured." The Gondorian's attempt at modesty was not completely successful, but Halbarad did not feel at all inclined to fault him for his understandable pride.

The ranger grunted and murmured, "Even injured you're still a damn fine fighter, as I have good reason to know."

His captain gave Boromir a curious look, "As grateful as I am that you saved my wayward kinsman, what are you doing here? Surely the Lord Steward's heir should not be wandering alone on the battlefield!"

Boromir grimaced and sighed, "Steward's heir no longer, Aragorn. As of this morning I am the Lord Steward of Gondor."

Aragorn paled and murmured, "Your father? I…I am sorry, Boromir, I did not know…"

The Gondorian held up a hand to forestall him, "No, you misunderstand, Father still lives. For a…number of reasons it was felt to be best for me to succeed him now." He shook his head, "I will explain, but it is a long tale and now is not the time to tell it." He met Aragorn's eyes, "But what of your road? Surely it must be a curious tale that took you from Rohan, where you were last known to be, to the capture of the Corsairs!"

Aragorn snorted, "Another long tale, also too long to be told full in at the moment." His eyes took on a faraway look, "But the Paths of the Dead are empty, and the cursed oath breakers laid to rest."

Boromir paled in his turn and said in a strangled voice, "A curious tale for certain, I will look forward to hearing it!" He glanced around, nodding politely to Elladan and Elrohir who were standing close by, casually fending off any enemies who came too near. "But what of Legolas and Gimli, are they not with you? I had hoped to see them again."

Aragorn chuckled, "I have no doubt that you will. They went off on their own as soon as we landed, determined to continue the orc-slaying contest they began at Helm's Deep.

The Gondorian laughed, "Hopefully we have supplied sufficient numbers to satisfy them, I would not like to be accused of being an ungenerous host!"

"That seems unlikely," Aragorn said dryly. He fixed Boromir with an imperious look, "I note that you have still not yet explained why you are out here alone, a circumstance even less likely for the Lord Steward than his heir."

Unmoved by his censure, Boromir shrugged, "I took the opportunity to look around after being immured in the city since my arrival a week ago. I had not planned to do any fighting but I saw Halbarad here in trouble and I could not resist." He met Aragorn's eyes, his face somber, "I realize you will not know what has occurred; it sorrows me to report that King Théoden has fallen."

"But his banner still flies!" Aragorn exclaimed. "We saw it when we disembarked!"

Boromir nodded grimly, "Éomer took it up when he found his uncle dead, in grief and rage and to honor his fallen king, I believe." Before Aragorn could respond, he continued, "There is more." The Gondorian explained how Éowyn and Merry had ridden in secret and beyond all expectation had slain the Witch-King.

Halbarad knew his kinsman well enough to recognize that he was deeply affected by Boromir's tale. He shook his head, his eyes sad, "This is grievous news, my friend, especially Éowyn's decision to join the battle." Aragorn looked up, "Grievous, but not without hope, since Éowyn and Merry still live and Sauron's most fearsome lieutenant is no more."

The Gondorian was silent, staring with wide eyes at the hilt of Aragorn's sword. "Aragorn," he croaked, "is that what it appears to be?"

"Apologies, Boromir, I had forgotten that you would not have seen it before now. Of course you would recognize the hilt." Aragorn slowly drew his sword, the afternoon sun setting it aglow. "This is Andúril, the Flame of the West, reforged from the shards of Narsil."

"Magnificent." Boromir shook his head, smiling wryly, "I'll wager Sauron will not be pleased to see that sword again." The Gondorian looked as if he were about to speak again, but then turned away, his face clouded. After a moment he murmured, "You…you are right, of course, Aragorn. I should return to the city."

"Boromir, what is it?" Aragorn asked, recognizing his distress. "What troubles you? Do you feel it was unwise to reforge Narsil?"

"No, no, of course not, Aragorn! It can only assist us in the fight against Sauron. It's…it's just…" he sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face before continuing. "the sword and the banner are symbols of kingship. You know I honor your claim to the throne and will support you as I promised. But…" he met Aragorn's eyes, grimacing in chagrin, "the defense of Gondor has always been my responsibility, never more so than now that I have taken on Father's duties. It is…difficult...more difficult than I anticipated, to place the fate of Gondor in another's hands, no matter how much I trust him."

Aragorn put his hands on Boromir's shoulders and said urgently, "Then do not, Boromir. It was never my intention to wrest Gondor from the care of someone its people have come to love and trust, especially when he has proven himself to be such and able and faithful guardian."

The Gondorian stared at him in surprise, "You…you do not wish to claim your birthright?"

The heir of Isildur smiled, "Time enough for that if we win this war and Sauron is defeated. For now I am the Captain of the Dúnedain Rangers, come to assist our southern cousins in the fight against a common enemy. If we prevail in today's battle, my company will camp outside the gate with Gondor's other allies." One eyebrow arched, "Of course, if the Lord Steward of Gondor requires my counsel, I would be more than happy to oblige."

"Are…are you certain of this, Aragorn? It does not seem fitting to deny you the honors you are due." Boromir shook his head, "Many have seen the banner and will remember what it means; there will be talk… But I confess that it will be far simpler to go on as we have for the moment, especially since some on the Steward's Council may already be questioning my early—and irregular—inheritance of the Stewardship."

"All the more reason to leave matters as they are for now," Aragorn answered with a fleeting smile. "I am certain, Boromir."

Boromir gripped Aragorn's arm and smiled in return, "Very well, my friend, if that is how you wish it to be. I will send out what men can be spared from the walls to finish this rabble quickly. But you can be certain that the Lord Steward will require the wise counsel of his kin from the North-lands."

Aragorn nodded, "You have but to send word and I will come." He gazed out at the foes surrounding them, "The battle is not yet won, Boromir, will you be able to reach the gate safely?"

The Gondorian snorted, "The enemy has taken particular exception to your company's presence, it seems. If I can win past the ring of those around us, gaining the gate should not be difficult."

"It would be my pleasure to assist," Aragorn replied with grim smile. He drew Andúril and with a cry led the Gray Company in a charge that broke the enemy ranks long enough for Boromir to ride through.

As he waved farewell, Boromir called, "If you meet Éomer this day, please tell him that Éowyn lived when she was brought from the field and was taken to the Houses of Healing. I fear he may believe she was slain by the Witch-King."

Aragorn acknowledged this with an answering wave and the new Lord Steward of Gondor rode away, back to the city he loved.