When the sun rose over the battlefield it brought little joy. At least in the sunlight it was possible to see what the full extent of the battle had been. The remaining soldiers went from man to man, checking to see if they were alive. Many were injured, some badly but others could at least walk.
"Boromir!" A familiar voice called out. Boromir looked over to see Faramir hurrying over towards him. The two brothers embraced in the middle of the battlefield, overjoyed to see each other.
"How many made it across the river?" Boromir asked, he could tell by Faramir's face that it was not many.
"Only two others," Faramir told him.
"That is grievous news," Boromir said as he scanned the field and espied Fairfax standing by a fallen soldier. He hurried over and knelt down beside him. He removed his helmet and saw that it was Mabon, Eswen's father. He was seriously injured and his face was screwed up in pain.
"A black horseman," He said hoarsely as he looked desperately up at Boromir, fear was still in his eyes. "A giant black horseman." Boromir placed his hand on the man's shoulder.
"Do not worry, the shadow has passed and the battle is over. Faramir!" He managed to get the man to his feet and with Faramir's help they set Mabon upon Fairfax's back.
It was a slow journey back to the city, due to the injuries men had suffered. Wearily Boromir trudged on, leading Fairfax beside him, and beside him Faramir helped another man. He worried that Mabon would not make the entire trip, which led to his thoughts about Eswen.
He wondered how she was faring, stuck in the city not knowing how the two men she loved were.
As the city came into view it seemed as though all the hearts of the men lightened slightly. They also seemed to have gained a little more strength as they travelled closer. Boromir himself felt a little more joy in his heart, for the injured would soon be tended to. Then came the sound that he was glad to hear, the sounds of trumpets, calling them home.