Chapter I: The Lords of Gondor Return

It was about seven years ago, when the fall of Aragorn began. The army of Men and Elves had just returned from Ithilien, victorious. Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor had been vanquished, and his cursed Ring destroyed.

I walked off the battlefield with Aragorn at my side. Both of us were covered in dark Orc blood, but we both grinned happily, the thrill of war still within us.

"Do you think Frodo and Sam are still alive?" I asked, wiping my bloodied blade on the ground.

"I hope so." The smile disappeared as Aragorn turned his gaze to the silent lands of Mordor. Neither of us had seen the Hobbits since Aragorn, Legolas Greenleaf, the Gimli the Dwarf, Meriadoc Brandybuck, Peregrin Took, and myself had escorted them to the edge of Mordor.

"Do you think I was wrong letting them go alone?" Aragorn asked, his face filled with worry.

"Gondor needed your help, my lord." Gondor had indeed needed his help. My father, may Denethor's tortured soul find rest, driven by senseless greed, had attempted to make peace with Sauron. In his mind, he had thought that Sauron would end the war in an exchange for a large piece of Gondor.

Fortunately, Aragorn anticipated that Sauron would agree to the terms, take the land, and then destroy what was left of Gondor. He quickly reclaimed his throne. Denethor, knowing that his actions would have bitter consequences, namely imprisonment for the rest of his life, took his own life before anyone could apprehend him.

"I am certain that Gandalf and his eagles reached them in time."

"I truly hope so," the king replied softly. "Where are Legolas and Gimli?"

"Still on the battlefield, I believe." In hopes to cheer him, I added, "They are counting the bodies of the enemy slain. I fear Gimli has won again." Aragorn smiled. The two companions, ever since the first battle at Parth Galen, had been in a contest of who could kill more Orcs. Gimli had won by one corpse at Parth Galen, which had deeply disturbed the Elvish prince.

"And what of your brother? I heard rumours he was on the battlefield." At this, my mind froze.

"Faramir, m-my lord?" I asked slowly, stuttering. Aragorn nodded. "I have not seen my brother since I left for the Council meeting at Rivendell. If he was here, he is surely gone by now."

Or dead, the I thought bitterly.

"If you see him, please invite him back to the city. He is most welcome there."

"I am certain he will come. Now that my father is gone." Not long after I had departed from Gondor, Denethor had banished Faramir, and all men loyal to him. "My lord, I should like to search the battlefield for my brother." Aragorn frowned.

"Nay, Lord Boromir. I have already asked Legolas to search for your brother. Come, friend. Tonight you and I shall enter the gates of the White City, with happiness in our hearts and the joy of victory upon our lips. Do not trouble yourself. Faramir lives."

"How can you know?" I asked, looking into the horizon. Smoke still rose from the quiet battlefield.

"My heart tells me he is well. And that he will return to Gondor, in his own time. Until then, let us drink and be merry."

The Hall of Kings was filled with laughter, music, and much drinking. I must admit that I had consumed far too much alcohol that night, and was readily intoxicated as I spoke with Aragorn. Aragorn drank no more than a few sips of the ale, and remained sober the majority of the night.

A few hours after our return, Gandalf returned with his Eagles and two little Hobbits, unconscious but alive. Their faces were black with soot, their hair slightly singed, and Frodo seemed to be missing a finger, but other than that, the two were fine. Frodo was left to sleep, while Sam, after much convincing, decided to join in the merriment of the Hall of Kings.

The Hall of Kings was a large, multi-roomed building at the base of the White Tower of Ecthelion, used for large meetings and celebrations. My parents, Finduilas and Denethor, had been wed in this hall, as had my grandparents. The feast following Aragorn's official coronation, which would take place in a matter of weeks, was also to be held there.

But such thoughts were far from my mind that night. I was only concerned with the amount of ale left in my cup.

"It is good to drink again," I said, taking a long sip of the ale. Aragorn smiled.

"It is good to be here again," he replied. "I have not sat at ease in the Hall of Kings for many years." I nodded, then took another drink, draining my cup.

"Hullo!" A loud call caught our attention. They turned and caught sight of Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took standing on top of a table, reeling slightly, large mugs of ale in their small hands. The two waited until every man and woman in the room had silenced before they spoke.

"It is customary in the Shire to have a song sung while celebrating. Does anyone wish to sing?" Merry asked, a wide drunken grin upon his face.

"Sing a song for us, Halfling!" A young man shouted from the far end of the hall. The man's shout was met with many cheers of agreement. Merry and Pippin bowed, Pippin nearly falling off the table.

"Sam!" Pippin called. "Come, sing with us! Sing one for your Rosie!" Sam, who had been quietly drinking in a corner by himself, blushed bright red.

"Yes, sing one for your Rosie!" I repeated the shout, though I had not even the slightest idea who his Rosie was at the time.

Sam quietly clambered up the table and stood next to Merry, his face still red. He whispered something into Merry's ear, who in turned smiled and nodded.

"Master Samwise has suggested we sing 'Here's a Health to the Company!'" Pippin's eyes lit in recognition of the song. The Gondorians began to clap, certain that anything the Hobbits sang would be a delight to hear.

"Kind friends and companions, come join me in rhyme
Come lift up your voices in chorus with mine
Come lift up your voices, from grief we'll refrain
For we know not when we will all meet again.

Here's a health to the company and one to my lass
We'll drink and be merry all out of one glass
We'll drink and be merry from grief we'll refrain
For we know not when we will all meet again.

Here's a health to the dear lass that I love so well
Her face and her beauty there's none can excel
There's a smile on her countenance as she sits on my knee
There is none in this whole world as happy as me.

Here's a health to the company and one to my lass
We'll drink and be merry all out of one glass
We'll drink and be merry from grief we'll refrain
For we know not when we will all meet again.

Our march leads us homebound, down an olden trail

So we make our farewells with a good glass of ale

And if I should meet you by land or by sea
I will always remember your kindness to me.

Here's a health to the company and one to my lass
We'll drink and be merry all out of one glass
We'll drink and be merry from grief we'll refrain
For we know not when we will all meet again!"

Wild applause followed the song, and soon the Hobbits began to sing another song, this one focusing on an inn in the Shire. I followed the song for a bit, but when I glanced at Aragorn, I saw my king's face was solemn.

"What's wrong, my lord?" I asked, momentarily sobered by his expression. Aragorn did not respond.

"Do you not like their song?"

"Here's a health to the dear lass that I love so well," he repeated. I at first thought he was toasting, and in consequence raised my glass, but my companion did not lift his own.

"Have you ever wanted a woman?" He asked me, and the question caught me off guard. Aragorn never spoke of women or love, and he rarely ever did after that night.

"I suppose not," I replied after a moment.

"Would you ever marry?"

"I suppose," I said, once again startled. "No woman's ever wanted me."

"If you ever did decide to marry, what would you look for in a woman?" Aragorn asked, his grey eyes filled with uncertainty.

"I don't know." Then after a thought, I added, "She would be pretty, I guess. And gentle. Sweet, but at the same time, strong. I really don't know, Aragorn. Why do you ask?" Aragorn took a large sip of ale before speaking.

"I am to be wed."

"You?" I said in shock. He nodded grimly. "To whom?"

"Arwen Undomiel, the daughter of Lord Elrond." I raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"An Elf?" Aragorn nodded.

"They say she is beautiful, more beautiful than all the stars in the heavens. But I do not love her."

"Why not?" I asked, for my drunkenness had left me without tact.

"I have never met her. Yet Elrond says that I will love her. He has foreseen the joyful union," Aragorn said sourly. "I do not understand why he would ask his own daughter to sacrifice her own immortality for my sake."

"Perhaps she wants to," I suggested, and frowned at his empty glass. A young woman quickly refilled it, smiling at me. I returned the smile, and she blushed.

"Why would she! She doesn't even know me!" Aragorn countered, frustrated. I was too interested in the oddly blushing maiden to console my friend.

"You have a quite a ruddy face, girl," I said, complimenting the maiden's ruby face. She however, found my attempt insulting and rushed away.

"Women!" I snorted, and took a long drink. "You try to tell them they're beautiful, and they run away! That is why I'll never marry!" I slammed his glass down on the table angrily.

"Contradictory, confused little flowers! They have as much purpose for themselves as…" I stopped, realizing I had rudely ended conversing with Aragorn. "Forgive me, my lord, it seems I-"

"You are quite forgiven, dear Boromir," Aragorn said, smiling. "At the moment I am inclined to agree with you. Women do not know what they want."

"Yes. You just watch that Arwen Abominable. She'll-"

"Undomiel," Aragorn corrected.

"Yes, Arwen Indomitable. She'll act as if she's loved you all her life, but after two weeks of marriage, she'll be begging her father to take her to the Havens. Mark me, she will."

"A toast then," Aragorn said. I lifted my glass. "To the joy of bachelorhood. May you always revel in its splendour."

"And may you find it two weeks after your marriage." We laughed and drank. Soon another toast was made, and a long series of toasts began. We toasted to victory, friends, the mighty Men of Gondor, all Men, and after many, many more toasts we eventually began toasting to Legolas' hair, Elrond's circlet, Gimli's beard, and my horse's tail. By then, both the king and myself were far too intoxicated to stand, much less return to our quarters without aid. So the toasts continued, and became far too vulgar for any decent creature to hear when, much to our reputation's relief, passed out from complete inebriation. Later, I was told, Gimli and Legolas returned from the battlefield (Legolas the much disputed victor) and carried us to our quarters, where we awoke to massive headaches followed by much vomiting and embarrassment.

As pathetic as it may be, that night was one of the happiest nights in my life. It was a night where all complications that life had thrust upon had melted away. I have always craved simplicity. Perhaps it is because I have the heart of a soldier, who cares not for the reasons of war or love, but only for the thrill that war and love can bring.

That night was the last night of simplicity. The years that would follow were those where the truth was no longer simple, and where the call of a man's heart could no longer be trusted.