Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, its characters and places are the property of the Tolkien estate. The authors of this piece are merely borrowing them and derive no financial benefit from the exercise.

Echoes of the White Horn Chapter 7: Reunion

"He is not far from here," the stranger said, his tone still a little cautious, despite his assurance that he believed Faramir, "I will take you where I left him," he continued as he moved towards his horse, carefully avoiding stepping into the puddles.

Faramir had decided he also had no choice but to trust this man. If he had indeed found his brother then all would be well. So far, the man had seemed worthy of some measure of trust. If his intention had been to cause either of them harm, then he would probably have done so earlier when he had had the chance. He decided that if the stranger's intent did prove to be harmful later, then he would simply face the situation as best as he could. For now, he could do no more than stay alert and be wary of any possible danger.

He ran a dripping sleeve across his wet face, noticed the tiny rips across his clothes dispassionately and then wearily set about picking up his scattered pieces of weaponry. He restored his sword to its scabbard, picked up the new bow, relieved to find it unscathed, and then proceeded to retrieve the arrows, strewn all over the bank. The feathers attached to their ends for balance, hung drenched and limp. He put them carefully into the quiver; a part of him worried over how his brother might be faring and another part of him irritated at the fact that despite such a wide ranging choice in armoury, he had still been brought down with relative ease. The other man might have been a more accomplished swordsman but the thought still rankled.

He returned to gather up the ponies' reins and watched as the other man pulled on his cloak and fastened with it a star shaped pin. He was quite certain now that this man was a soldier, or more likely, a ranger. His clothes and the way he handled his horse, suggested as such, and the way he had managed to silently quarry him earlier, strengthened the belief.

He waited for him to lead the way, and when they set off, tried to straighten out his confused thoughts. The rain fell in a steady downpour as he followed him to the place where he claimed to have left Boromir. It drummed down rhythmically, making little difference to him for he had been soaked to the skin already. He could feel his cloak hang heavily as it became progressively wetter. The softened ground sank under his booted feet, making walking slower, and he noticed the other man faced the same problem. The three mounts they tugged along, however, seemed to find the going easier.

Boromir lay under a small tree; it's scrawny branches providing no shelter from the rain. Faramir darted forward and knelt by his brother's side, an intense relief coursing through him at just the sight. But then the pallor of the face struck him.

"Boromir," he whispered, very softly, unsure why he did so. His brother remained still. He grasped a cold, wet hand and squeezed it gently, taking some comfort from the beat of his pulse. Brushing the wet strands of hair away from his face, he examined the dark bruise that stood out clearly on the forehead, with worry. It was an ugly discolouration on the left temple spreading out from under the dark hairline almost as far as the left eyebrow. No other injury seemed apparent save minor scratches, but those did not worry him as much as this did. He could not remember a time when Boromir had not sported some cut or scratch, more so after he had taken up his duties with the army. He was used to seeing Boromir return home, sporting some new injury or signs of a healing one, but he was completely unused to seeing him lying like this, unmoving.

He looked at him intently for a few seconds, almost willing him to open his eyes and assure him that he was alright. Instead, Boromir's eyes stayed shut. Footsteps sounded out behind him, as boots slapped against wet grass.

"Why does he not awake?" he asked unhappily, distrust forgotten in his concern.

"He has hit his head," the other man pointed out, "But he does not seem to have suffered any other injury."

Faramir stayed kneeling on the ground, biting his lip uncertainly, as he wondered what to do. Now that he had found his brother, he was partly relieved. But the relief was fast being replaced by worry at the condition he was in. "He is wet," he stated unnecessarily.

"He fell into the river," came the quiet reply from right behind him, "And it is raining quite heavily."

He almost jumped. In his worry over Boromir he had forgotten to watch the other man's movements and he had not even noticed him walk up right behind him. He berated himself silently for his sudden lapse in concentration; it was the second time had had allowed that to happen. A part of him wondered curiously where the man had picked up such skills.

"We should move him to a drier place," he mused, and then looked around him. There was, quite naturally, not a dry spot to be seen.

The horseman nodded, "Perhaps further up the cliff. I saw some rocks there. We might find shelter under them."

He nodded at that. It made ample sense to shelter from the rain for now. When it stopped, they could set out again. Their original intention had been to follow the stream, for that path was one that wound through the hills to lead to the highway to the city. If Boromir did not wake up soon, it would be best to take him home as soon as he could, where the healers would know what to do. He could tend to cuts and broken bones but what little he had seen or experienced of head injuries had been enough to tell him that they could be unpredictable.

He himself had once slipped in the courtyard of the citadel, after a heavy downpour had left water pooling on the stones, and hit his head on the hard surface. When he had woken up the next day, he could remember nothing of what had happened after he had fallen. But Boromir had claimed that he had been unhurt and had risen immediately and had been awake all day, attended all his lessons, and had an excellent session in the archery court. Faramir however could remember neither the lessons nor the excellent stint with bow and arrow. It was not until he spoke to his tutors that he had realised that his brother had not been teasing him. When Boromir had found out he remembered nothing of the day before, he had told their father, and Faramir had had to spend the rest of that day fussed over by the healers who would not even let him read. He knew he had been lucky in not being affected any worse than that. He just hoped Boromir would recover without any after effects.

He almost jumped again as he felt a hand on his shoulder. His hand reached for his sword, relaxing a little when he realised it was the horseman. The man spread out his hands, as though to indicate that he meant no harm.

"We will have to move him out of the rain."

Faramir drew back, nodding his head, unable to bring himself to speak much. He just wanted to get Boromir home, and a part of him wanted simply to thank the stranger very firmly for pulling his brother out of the water, load him onto his pony, and set off. But it was late. Even without the rain, there would not be much light in the sky, and he could not risk travelling at night.  Not on such steep trails, and that after they had already had an accident. He looked up through the sheet of water in front of him. He could see the trail following the stream cut into the mountainside.

The horseman followed his gaze and seemed to divine what he was thinking, "You shall have to wait until the sun rises again," he said in a gentle tone.

"He needs a healer," he found himself replying almost stubbornly.

"You cannot travel through this rain. It would be better if you took shelter for the night. I know something of healing. Will you let me help him?"

He could see no other choice in front of him, "How far up the cliff did you see these rocks?" he asked resignedly. They would have had to spend the night in the hills anyway. He had just not thought that they might have company, and least of all, a type of company that he did not quite know what to make of.

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They found a cave-like not far from the forest the rider had come through. He had noticed the rocks cursorily earlier, but had never expected to be detained in this area for so long that he might have had to use the shelter they offered. He noted to their satisfaction that it was near the trail too, so that they had not had to deviate too far from their route. They had hoisted the injured man onto one of the ponies, and he noticed that the younger one kept a firm hand on the reins and remembered what he had mentioned about the animal slipping.

It had not taken him more than a glance at the boy's face and the reaction he exhibited when they had reached the still figure under the tree, to convince him that there was no danger from that quarter. The resemblance too showed up even more when he saw them together, and the feeling that they reminded him of someone returned with greater ferocity. He realised he did not know their names. He had heard the younger one murmur something to his brother, but could not decipher the words clearly over the rain. He kept silent about it, however. As yet, the younger one had not thought to inquire after his name, and he wanted to keep it that way.

The light was fairly dim now. Rain continued to pour down on them, but with a reduced intensity that seemed to indicate the storm might pass soon. The enclosure the rocks formed was small, barely something resembling walls and a roof. It would probably not to keep them entirely dry, but it did seem capable of keeping most of the rain out. The floor was damp, but not soaking wet like the ground outside. The animals stood patiently near the entrance seemingly not bothered by the rain.

He helped lower the injured man down. Water squelched out of their boots and cloaks. It was going to be a cold, damp night.

"I have some blankets in my pack," he offered, "It will get cold at night."

"We have spare cloaks," came a distrait reply, "He has not awoken yet."

He knelt down and looked over the elder brother more thoroughly, "He sleeps peacefully," he said calmly, "I think you have little cause for worry."

"How do you know that?" the boy replied in an annoyed tone, "What if he is badly hurt? I should get him back to Minas Tirith," he continued worriedly, "And Father might start to worry."

"Is that where you live?" the stranger asked more to keep him from worrying than out of curiosity.

It seemed to him that the boy started at that.

"Was it meant to be a secret?" he asked, a little amused. He was obviously not deemed trustworthy yet.

The boy stiffened. "No," he admitted, "Do you really think he will be alright?" there was almost a pleading tone to the voice.

"You cannot ride through the night," he repeated, "Leave for Minas Tirith in the morning. Mayhap the rain shall have ceased by then."

The boy sat down next to him, a dry cloak in his hand; worry still creasing his face. The rider glanced at him and then spoke.

"I mean no harm. I am merely a traveller through these lands as you are," he said calmly, as he rocked back on his heels.

The boy nodded, his face completely expressionless. Then he removed the wet cloak off his brother and used the dry one to cover him up. Then, he very gently wiped a few dead leaves and some dirt off his face.

"What brings you through these routes?" he asked suddenly, "They are but rarely used in these times."

The man sighed soundlessly. He had had a feeling that this one might be an inquisitive one.

"I was on my way to visit an old friend," he replied calmly.

"I would not detain you longer than necessary then," came a very polite reply, "I am sure he awaits you."

"He is very wise. He will see the rain and understand that I have been delayed," he said drily. He thought that induced a slight colour in the boy's cheeks, from anger or embarrassment he could not tell. The dark head bent down swiftly. It was, he decided, going to be a cold, damp and long night.

He sat back against the wall, and realised a pair of very curious eyes were trained on him. Having no desire to answer any more questions, he resorted to the easiest tactic to divert attention, by leaning forward and looking closely at the sleeping man, "I think I should be able to bring the swelling down. Do you think you might be able to find some dry wood outside? We shall need a fire."

"We carry kindling with us, and a little wood. It is not much though, for we had not far to ride."

"That will do," he said decisively.

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The fire was small and some distance away from him, but its very sight was soothing to Faramir's tired eyes. The rain outside had petered down to a drizzle that pattered down in an irritating beat. Night would fall soon. There was only a pale sliver of light outside.

He stayed by Boromir's side, sitting cross-legged on the cold floor, elbows on his knees, and chin resting in his hands, feeling extremely worried. He was not used to such a long period of silence when his brother was around. Every now and then he darted stole a glance at the quiet rider, who was now bent over some kind of boiling liquid over the flames. It smelt dreadful but, to his knowledge, most medicinal brews did so. The man did not seem to mean them any harm, as yet.

It suddenly occurred to him that he had still not asked him his name. Nor where it was he came from. A fact that he realised bothered him greatly, for no known reason. He decided it was the unlikely combination of his looks, garb and skills with his horse and sword that confused him.

He was about to address him when he heard a small sound emanate from Boromir's mouth.

To be continued...

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Apologies once again for delaying the update. Not much left to go. Thanks everyone for the reviewing

Susan – you do believe correctly;-) But he's bright, he really is, honest.

Anita – No cliffie this time either. The zoo sounds very nice.

IceAngel – Rain's nice, isn't it? Ff.net ate up your review but the mail come through.

Rose – Phew! Glad to hear that came out alright. It *is* hard to believe isn't it? Thanks! Don't worry, no more cliffhangers ahead, most probably. Another chapter or two, and the tension will be completely gone;-)

Elaine – Nice to hear that. Thanks for the mail:-)