Boromir walked slowly into the deserted village, looking around at the empty streets and houses.
What in Elendil's name is going on? Where was everyone?
He walked over the large stone well in the centre of the town square. One of the stones had been covered with charcoal. That was the sign left in Godordian towns if the inhabitants had evacuated because of war, flood or disease. Since he wasn't under water and he couldn't see any dead bodies, that meant war. Had war really come this close to Minas Tirth? Surely that couldn't be right; if the enemy had come to the Pelennor Fields then Osgiliath must have fallen.
The dream.
He ran to the nearest house and climbed up to the thatched roof. Straightening up, he stared in the and Boromir's heart clenched in pain he saw the spirals of back smoke rising from the river. Osgiliath burns. He lowered himself to the ground, a new explanation for his situation coming to mind.
I have come to hell.
How could have things got so bad in the time he had been gone? Gondor was falling before his eyes. Had the enemy claimed the ring; was all lost?
The sound of horse hooves made him turn around, sword drawn. He saw a middle-aged woman and a young boy sitting on a cart loaded with supplies. Swords and torches, as well as bags of grain and spare clothes. Also behind the cart two large horses trotted, tethered with thick rope.
'Halt, in the name of Denethor,' Boromir cried, moving quickly to intercept the cart.
The woman looked up in surprise, obviously not expecting anyone to be in the town. The boy drew a bow and aimed it shakily at Boromir, who could tell immediately that the boy would never actually shoot him.
'What are you doing 'ere?' she asked, eyeing him suspiciously, 'All the men should be at the city by now. I'm just taken these supplies to the mountain.'
'Who ordered this town to be abandoned?' Boromir asked, hoping to get some answers.
The woman snorted, and said in a distasteful voice,
'Ordered? That bloody steward would have left us to burn, we fled when we saw that horrid beam of light. Sent shivers up my spine it did. And now with Osgilath in the hands of the enemy….' She peered at him, leaning closer. 'Your face is familiar, have we met?'
'No…,' said Boromir absently, as he realized that this was the big battle, where the doom of Middle-Earth would be decided. Something was wrong; he couldn't work out what it was, but he had the feeling that he was part of it. 'I need one of those horses, and some food.'
The woman tried to stop him, but soon he was galloping across the plains. When he got closer to the city he could see that it was not ready for a battle. Boromir couldn't work out why his father would leave the city so vulnerable when they were about to be attacked.
Despite how bleak the situation seemed, he still felt a moment of joy when he could fully see the shining white towers and knew he was home. Riding up to the city walls, he heard the sentry's calls to open the gate. The heavy wooden door slowly swung open, and Boromir rode into the city. A shocked silence greeted him. Then the joyful shouts of men and woman exploded around him. He was nearly pulled off his horse by ecstatic soldiers, some almost in tears.
'My lord, we knew you would return.'
'Now the city will not fall!'
'After nine months we had almost given up hope!'
Boromir swung round, grabbing the man who had spoken.
'Nine months? Surely that is not right, I cannot have been gone that long?'
The man looked at him worriedly. 'Lord, it was nine moons the week before last, that was when Faramir returned with your horn.'
'My horn?' Boromir stood still and let the men's shouts wash around him, his thoughts spiralling. How could Faramir have his horn? Had the fellowship come here? Had he really been gone nine months?
'I must go to my father, tell none of my arrival until I return.' The men looked dubious, but allowed him to return to his horse and ride up to the citadel without further complaint. After leaving the first level he pulled the hood of his elven cloak over his head so noone would recognize him. He received some curious looks as he rode through the city, but no one tried to stop him, everyone too busy with their own affairs. When he reached the citadel, a guard stepped in front of him, holding up a hand.
'Halt, stranger! Only those with the password, or an invitation from Lord Denathor, may enter here.'
Boromir spoke the password, which he realized he had never had to do before and dismounted his horse. The guard eyed him suspiciously, obviously not wanting to let this cloaked stranger through, but having no choice. As Boromir strode through the citadel courtyard, he looked over to the river and could see that Osgilath and the surrounding banks were black with orcs. Approaching the large doors of his father's hall, they swung open before him, revealing a curious sight.
…………………………………………….
Pippin stood next to the Lord Denethor's chair, trying to stay awake. His legs were sore and he hadn't moved in the last hour. He was just trying to remember why he had volunteered for this when he could be lying in bed, when the great doors opened. He looked up in surprise, knowing that the Steward wasn't expecting to meet with anyone this morning.
The man was tall and strode down the hall with an air of confidence. The stranger's face was covered by his cloak, which, Pippin noticed, was very similar to his own. He looked very like-
'Pippin!?' The man stopped, staring at him in disbelief.
That voice.
'BOROMIR!' Pippin cried, sprinting toward the figure, who seemed to be frozen from shock. Pippin tackled the man and pulled the elven cloak away, to reveal a face he had missed and thought he'd never see again. He felt a swelling of happiness inside him and began to ramble.
'You're dead they said, but you're here so it doesn't matter I've missed you so much Merry said that we shouldn't blame ourselves but I'm so sorry it's great when did you come back where did you go? Are you allright everyone will be so happy Aragorn has been so sad it's just like Gandalf.'
'Gandalf?' Boromir said, interrupting Pippin.
'He's alive too, he came back to help us win the war,' the hobbit replied, still unable to take his eyes off Boromir.
Even more confused, Boromir tried to make sense of what Pippin had said. He was glad that Gandalf had returned, as he might be able to explain some of what had happened. Suddenly, Pippin's weight was gone, and a deep, familiar voice spoke to him.
'Boromir? My son, is that really you?'
Boromir sat up and saw his father in front of him. The old man's eyes were filled with tears and if you looked closely, you could see some of the madness leaving them.
'Father,' whispered Boromir and the two men hugged tightly, both feeling the best they had in months; Boromir knowing that he could still defend his country and Denathor beginning to once again have faith in Gondor and her people.
They separated and Pippin could see the likeness between them. Both were great men, and for the first time the hobbit could see that they were of the blood of kings. Still, he could not work it out; how could Boromir be here? Legolas and Aragorn had both said he was dead, and it seemed unlikely that they would get it wrong. Also, it was at least two months since the breaking of the fellowship. Surely Boromir would have returned to the city before that time if he were alive. Pippin decided to find Gandalf and ask him what he thought.
As the pair sat down to eat, Pippin excused himself. Boromir seemed desperate to question him, but his father held his attention. As Pippin left, he thought of Captain Faramir, and hoped his brother's return would be able to cheer him up.
…………………………………………….
Faramir woke slowly, wondering why he felt like he had slept for hours. Surely his father would have summoned him. Yawning, he got dressed and walked towards the great hall, deciding to get the meeting with his father over with. When he entered through the back door he found the father staring forward, a cup of wine in his hand.
'Father?' Faramir asked tentatively, slowly coming round to sit before Denathor.
'My son, ' he said, smiling, 'I have been thinking over what you said earlier.'
Faramir was surprised and rather unnerved by his father's attitude. He couldn't remember Denathor smiling at any time in his adult life and now seemed an odd time to start.
Denathor continued, 'I believe that we should call for help; that Rohan should be called.'
Faramir smiled, glad that his father was seeing through his pride at last. If Rohan came…then anything could happen.
'So that's why I'm sending you to Rohan.'
What?