Chapter Thirteen: Reunions (Part One)
A/N: Aaahhh it's been so long! Hello, everyone! School absolutely kicked my butt this semester, and so much amazing, never been done before stuff is happening right now in the world of pro wrestling. Many apologies for such a long wait! I'm a bit rusty, but a few hours of playing Shadow of War and listening to LotR soundtracks has put me back in the zone to write. We see some cracks in the armor of even the strongest of characters in this one (apologies for any major OOCness), and we get a few happy reunions as well. I hope you're all staying safe and healthy. *hugs*
"And you're sure this is safe?" Boromir asked yet again. Talion sighed, trying to hold back a chuckle at how nervous Boromir sounded.
"Yes. You have nothing to worry about so long as you hold on. If it's being up high that bothers you, just don't look down."
"It is not heights that make me uneasy." He didn't elaborate, and so Talion gestured for Luinil to lean down for them.
"I would normally shadow mount, but since you can't…" Talion leapt onto her back without much issue, situating himself rather quickly before offering a hand to Boromir, who looked at it skeptically. "It's safe, I promise. Just hold on and you'll be fine."
"The more you speak, the less reassuring you sound," Boromir told him, taking the hand hesitantly, letting out an undignified sound of shock as Talion easily hauled him up behind him. Boromir immediately latched onto him as Luinil stood, stretching out her wings with a soft growl.
"You know how to get to Osgiliath, don't you, girl?" She rumbled affirmatively, and Talion patted at her neck gently. "Fly swiftly and carefully. And if a battle rages below us when we arrive…" Talion's eyes briefly shone a fiery red-orange. "Show them no mercy."
With a ground shaking roar she took off, Boromir clutching at Talion's arm in a death grip, Talion taking a deep breath as fresh air rushed against them, the forest of Amon Hen behind them as mountain peaks and rocky cliff walls of brown and grey blurred below them. He'd missed this, how freeing flying felt, how his mind could wander as he watched the land below them swirl with a mix of colors. Sometimes, when there had been no hurry in Mordor, he could make out the texture of trees, the beautiful sight of snowy mountaintops, small moving lakes of lava, the rolling waves in the sea, swirling clouds of fog. Mordor…
How had things changed since he'd been gone? Were the strongholds secure? Were the people he'd managed to free safe? How were the Uruks? How were the creatures? How widespread were the effects of Minas Morgul and Barad-dur? Had their darkness and hopelessness spread across the land? Had fear and paranoia and distrust infected the once united and strong people he'd saved? And…
Talion let his eyes slip shut as he just listened to the wind whistling in his ears, the occasional flaps of Luinil's wings, his heartbeat in his ears. Now wasn't the time to dwell on all of that, lest he distract himself further from the task at hand. He was tired. So, so tired. But he still had a job to do. Mordor depended on him. Celebrimbor depended on him. He sighed, and Boromir hummed in question, still clinging to him, but not as tightly as before.
"It's nothing. Do you expect us to find a battle raging when we arrive?" Boromir considered the question for a moment.
"I would hope not, but it is likely. Do you intend to fight if one is?"
"Not directly if we can avoid it. If it is overrun it's safer to remain in the air than to be on foot."
"So you will run if all looks lost?" Boromir asked in annoyance.
"We are riding a fire drake, Boromir," Talion reminded him. "If Osgiliath looks to be overrun with orcs, we will simply have to show them what the true heat of battle is." Talion grinned darkly, but in good humor, and Boromir chuckled nervously at that.
"Please do not take offense when I say that I sometimes don't know whether to fear you or be glad you are not my enemy." Talion frowned then.
"Do you fear me?" There were a few moments of silence, Boromir averting his eyes as he thought about how best to word his response.
"You defy death and possess abilities that only figures in legend have. You are more powerful and determined than any other being I have seen before. You could be rid of me at any moment if you wanted. I trust you, but it is hard not to imagine what could be if you grew bored of my presence."
"And we are friends, are we not?" Boromir nodded slowly. "I do not wish to do you harm, nor turn my power against you as a foe. What I do wish to do is reunite you with your brother and ensure that you make it home safely."
"That we make it home safely." Talion turned his head to look at him in confusion, and Boromir smiled at him. "You haven't returned to the White City in quite some time, yes? Perhaps you'll have a chance now. Osgiliath is not too far from Minas Tirith." Talion nodded to him a moment later with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
He would love nothing more than to return to the White City after so much time away, but… He had a feeling that their paths would diverge soon.
XxX
Eltariel found herself hanging upside down from a fairly high tree branch above the camp the group had set up not long ago. Their quest to find Merry and Pippin still far from its conclusion. Eltariel's eyes were closed, body relaxed, ears taking in the sounds of the wind, the rustling of leaves, the breaths of her companions, the flapping of bird wings, nearby footsteps. Dusk was rapidly falling, and she was taking first watch. Legolas was fast asleep, exhausting from all the extra scouting ahead he'd done earlier in the day. Gimli was pacing impatiently near him, the need to see Merry and Pippin safe eating away at him every day they didn't find the pair. Aragorn sat not far from Eltariel, eating a small portion of the game he had hunted earlier, eyeing Eltariel curiously.
"Rarely have I seen you so relaxed," he told her quietly, loud enough so only she could hear him. She opened one eye and regarded him carefully before both were closed again.
"In my youth I would spend hours hanging in trees and familiarizing myself with my surroundings. It was peaceful, being in nature, training my ears to tell me who or what approached, what the weather might be like, what an area was comprised of. Those skills came in handy as a tracker, then as an assassin. But before that, it was just… Fun. It's what I did to find myself at ease." Aragorn was surprised she would share that information with him, and she let out a short, quiet chuckle at the barely audible gasp he gave. "I know you do not trust me. But I have nothing to hide aside from what I consider my personal business. Speak your concerns freely." He took a few moments to gather his thoughts.
"You are different, since leaving Lothlorien. For a time you were more distant. But lately you have seemed… Happier." At this Eltariel opened her eyes, watching him, taking in his expressions. "You are still guarded, but it's not in the same way as before."
"I had forgotten who I was before. Quite literally. And I wasn't particularly interested in remembering." She smiled then. "But Talion has his ways of making others see reason. Even if it took quite a bit of arguing and death threatening to get there."
"You argued often?" he asked, amused.
"Very. Almost every time we saw each other there was some disagreement or another. When that finally stopped being the case, I think we were both surprised. It's… It's been a long time since I've had a friend." She frowned. "Had being the key word, now that our paths have diverged again."
"We did not see the last of him at Amon Hen. If he chooses to follow Frodo and Sam when he wakes, then we will see him again when at last the Fellowship has reached Mordor."
"You're still very confident we will all get there by the end of this?"
"I am."
A strange silent stare commenced between them, not uncomfortable or hostile, and a welcome change. Eltariel didn't quite buy it.
"But you're worried, more than you want to admit." Aragorn sighed, but did not deny it. "They may not see it, but I do not miss the heavy looks and glances of doubts and what ifs. I admire your strength in keeping a strong image in front of the others, but you needn't feel as if you must during every waking moment."
"If I crumble, so will they," Aragorn replied. "We track a trail that grows steadily colder with the passing days, with no idea how the rest of the Fellowship is faring. I cannot help but worry, but I don't want that to be what the others focus on."
"They are stronger than you give them credit for," Eltariel assured him. "You are allowed to show weakness, Aragorn. It isn't always a bad thing."
"This is coming from you?" The question was asked lightheartedly, and Eltariel smirked.
"Despite your first impressions of me, yes. It's… Alright to not be what you think everyone expects of you. You may find that your expectations and reality don't quite match, and that your concerns were for nothing." Eltariel pulled herself up into a sitting position, turning around to face Aragorn. "You should rest. I'll keep watch for the night."
Dusk had fallen, the sky shades of dark blue and violet, a few stars just beginning to twinkle into sight. Aragorn nodded to her after a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face, settling down as comfortably as he could on the ground and letting his eyes slip shut. Gimli soon found himself following suit, sighing tiredly and finally ending his pacing, falling asleep rather quickly. Legolas hadn't stirred since he'd laid down some time ago, breathing even and slow.
Eltariel had had a lot to think about after the Fellowship's departure from Lothlorien. Piecing together when and why she had started to change and what had changed and trying to find what was left of her past self had kept her lost in thought more often than was safe, traveling the way they were, likely after a horde of orcs as well. It was difficult, finding the balance between the facade she'd crafted and the parts of her she'd tried to forget, but she thought being a bit more open was a good start. Even if everything in her was screaming that she was creating unnecessary risks by saying more than was needed for the mission. And her own mission felt like it had been given a lifetime ago. They hadn't seen a Nazgul since Rivendell. When was the last time she'd been able to almost forget about her task to hunt them? She didn't know if she remembered. She trained her eyes on the sky, watching more stars appear as she listened to her surroundings, falling into peaceful sleep after Legolas woke to take over the watch.
The next day saw Legolas, Eltariel, and Gimli decently rested, but Aragorn looked like he hadn't slept a wink. 'His worries must have plagued his dreams,' Eltariel thought. Aragorn noticed the smallest of details, could work with the bare minimum and still find a way to reach his destination. Fewer clues were there to go by today, but still he led on as he usually did. All the while some of his doubtful and worried looks and tendencies slipped past him without his knowledge. At the end of another long day yielding no satisfying results, Aragorn looked like he was starting to reach a breaking point until Legolas and Gimli were at his side.
"We will find them," Legolas assured him, a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"There is hope to be had. Those were your words, and they ring true still," Gimli told him vehemently.
"They would not lose faith in us. Let us not lose faith in them," Eltariel finished, standing in front of him with a soft, genuine smile. Aragorn laughed quietly, gratefully.
"What must you think of me, despairing so quickly when I've spoken of nothing but having hope?"
"That you are stronger than you believe, to inspire and push on even when you find yourself shaken and uncertain," Legolas answered honestly. "You are not indestructible, Aragorn."
"We'd be more worried if you thought you were!" Gimli added. "Both of us worry our fair share about the hobbits. But don't all of us? It's the worry that keeps us going."
"And it is the deep care that comes with your concern and your sound judgement that will lead us to them." Eltariel saw a weight lift from Aragorn's shoulders, and he smiled, nodding.
"Thank you," he told them. "Tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow we make true progress."
XxX
Talion didn't remember falling asleep, but when he opened his eyes he found himself standing on the balcony of the stronghold in Seregost, a burst of aurora lights painting the dark, shimmering sky in a rainbow of colors. A glow of gold and orange and red from the fires in the stronghold lit his lower peripheral vision with warmth, while white and gray and black surrounded the area as far as the eye could see. The air was full of merry songs, of excited yet exhausted chatter, bustling orcs and creatures, the slosh of grog, the chilly winter breeze. But Talion's gaze remained fixed above him, everything else seeming a world away. Another presence soon joined his, and he found his fingers intertwining with another's. Talion smiled as a gentle flurry of snow began, covering up the footprints and imperfections of the land below them, blinking a few of the flakes out of his eyes.
"Do you remember this night?" Talion asked softly.
"The night we took over the stronghold in Seregost," Celebrimbor smiled wistfully. "The night the skies celebrated our victory with us."
"And do you remember what you said to me that night?" Talion's voice was even softer now. Celebrimbor squeezed his hand in comfort.
"Our victory is a small and brief one. The odds are ever changing, and Sauron is ever patient. We mustn't misstep in haste, nor dawdle in hesitation… And we mustn't lose hope that every small and brief victory will lead to the ones we seek most." Talion nodded, swallowing anxiously.
"I've strayed far from the path I set out on. We shall reach Mordor again soon, and yet I feel as if I haven't accomplished anything since I left it." He spared a glance down at Isildur's Ring on the hand held in Celebrimbor's. "I feel it slipping away from me. My humanity. With every passing day. In the early days of the journey, it was all I could think about. Now I hardly pay it any mind. Now it is more often the thought of avoiding using the Isildur's Ring at all costs, rather than retaining what little of myself remains. It's… Frightening. And it is something that has begun to weigh on me heavily."
"You have worn that Ring for a very long time, Talion. It was bound to change you in some way."
Celebrimbor finally looked at him, seeing the visage of Talion from the past, before Isildur's Ring came into play. When he blinked he saw black veins spider webbing across his face, and though his eyes were still blue they were filled with an indescribable weariness and worry. Talion's once bright armor was blackened, and the magic that was once a pale blue was toxic green.
"I fear that I have changed too much already."
"You saved Boromir at Moria and Amon Hen. You ensured the rest of the Fellowship arrived safely in Rivendell before the Nazgul could overtake them. Eltariel has begun to find herself again after a lifetime of trying to be someone she isn't. Aragorn's leadership was strengthened by your belief in him. Frodo now knows that he is not alone in his struggles as a Ring bearer, and he will never feel that fear of never being understood again. Even now you rush to Osgiliath to save the hobbits and people of Gondor. You have accomplished much more than you think. Your journey has not been in vain." Talion smiled sadly, meeting Celebrimbor's piercing sapphire eyes. "And while you may be more wraith than man now, you are still you. That has not changed, and I do not expect it to." Despite his lover's comforting words, they weren't quite enough to assuage his fears.
"Uan caruva sa," Talion whispered, voice trembling, averting his gaze.
"You will. Va laisa estel."
Talion felt Celebrimbor pull him close in a grounding embrace, wrapping his arms around the elf in return and fixing his gaze on a fire below, shining brightly and defiantly against the night. Hope. Light. So long as he had those, even if he fell, Sauron would never win. It was that thought that stuck with him when his vision returned to that of the waking world, his eyes fixed on the first signs of the sun beginning its descent before the sound of distant battle met his ears.
"Boromir," Talion spoke as he looked below, and Boromir followed his gaze.
A city falling into ruins from repeated attacks met their eyes. Crumbling towers and smoke as far as one could see, catapults bringing more destruction as orcs marched from the east. They could point out the bows and swords and shields of Gondor from the dark masss of orcs steadily pushing them back. The numbers did not favor the men, and they seemed very aware of that fact, grouped closely together as the enemy poured into the city. Archers weren't making a huge difference, and Boromir gave a pained cry as he watched his men fall.
"We must help them!" Talion entered the wraith world, pinpointing the bulk of the orcs in the city that hadn't yet reached the men of Gondor.
"There," he told Luinil, pointing with Urfael, and she sharply changed direction, diving with a roar that shook the nerves of men and orcs alike.
They looked up at the sky, and Talion gave a war cry as a column of fire mowed down hundreds of orcs, Boromir holding onto him for dear life as he watched the tide of the battle turn in Gondor's favor. Below them, Frodo and Sam cowered, hidden from sight, and Faramir's eyes tracked the new presence that had just given them hope for victory. Two riders sat atop the fire drake circling back around towards them. They were two far to make out faces, but something akin to hope swelled in Faramir's chest for the first time since his vision of his brother's death.
"For Gondor!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, his men rallying behind him as they began pushing the orcs back out of the city, another large plume of smoke devastating enemy forces.
Boromir looked down in relief at the shout, letting out a watery laugh as he recognized Faramir's voice. Talion looked back at him with an almost smile before a sudden wave of agony flared through his very being, eyes flying to his Ring hand. There was an unnatural chill to the air and an intense feeling of dread in his gut before a blood curdling, terrifying screech reverberated through the air.
"Nazgul," Talion realized in horror.
He spotted a fellbeast enter the city, its rider cloaked in black and malicious intent. The fellbeast looked like a serpent with wings. Its spine was covered in spikes, wings like ripped and battleworn leather, dark, curved claws sharper and larger than the most well crafted of swords, scaleless and rough skin, small, beady black eyes, with teeth like daggers. It paid no mind to the arrows lodged in its flesh, or to Talion, Boromir, and Luinil. Its sights were firmly set on the small figure that had walked out to a building onto a mostly intact bridge of stone. Talion and Boromir would recognize him anywhere.
Frodo.
Without a word Luinil sped in his direction as it swooped down, claws outstretched, Frodo frozen in fear. When they were above them, Talion looked to Boromir and told him firmly, "Go help our people."
"What?" Boromir barely had time to ask before Talion leapt into the air, Urfael aimed at the heart of the Nazgul.
Talion saw Sam grab Frodo, pulling him out of the way and tumbling back out of sight, and as he landed the fellbeast jerked backwards in protest. He grunted in pain as a glove clad hand wrenched his head back in an attempt to make him let go of his sword. That hand met Acharn, the dagger easily piercing through spectral flesh. A monstrous scream of agony made everything in him want to clamp his hands over his ears, but he managed to hold onto both of his blades, twisting them free before slamming both into the Nazgul's chest with as much force as he could muster, a wraith doubling his actions for good measure. There was a burst of bright green light as the Nazgul in front of him dissipated, essence heading back to Minas Morgul in defeat, and Talion found himself thrown from the quickly retreating fellbeast.
Boromir clung to scales and spikes as Luinil continued raining fire on the orcs, occasionally swooping down to grab a clawful of particularly tough ones to devour at her pleasure or rip to shreds. Boromir found enough courage to tell her to fly low, unsheathing his sword and hacking away at any foul creatures within reach. In the knick of time they reached a surrounded Faramir, who quickly found himself alone again as Luinil scooped up his attackers in a blur of gray and blue, collapsing to his knees in exhaustion for a moment before moving to rejoin the fray. Boromir spotted Talion tumbling from the sky, Luinil roaring at the sight before Talion was seated back in front of him in a swirl of green magic, Boromir nearly sent tumbling in shock.
"The Nazgul! Where—
"Defeated for now. It and the fellbeast won't trouble us again for some time." Talion cast his eyes back towards the battle, which was beginning to look like a route victory against the orcs. "Shall we end this?"
Boromir nodded, startling at the sudden heat that engulfed them before watching a massive fireball shoot towards the orcs grouped just beyond the eastern shore, its impact leaving behind a scorched crater and many incinerated corpses. The orcs that remained ran back in the direction they came, some picked off by archers while others escaped, some with wounds and others with only most limbs intact. Luinil gave a shriek of excitement, Talion laughing and patting her gently on the neck. A tense quiet fell over Osgiliath before it dawned on everyone else that they'd won. Soon shouts of victory broke out among the exhausted men on the ground, and one in particular, the White Tree of Gondor shining brightly in the sunset on his breastplate, broke away from the rest to look up at them. Luinil landed on the bridge where Frodo stood before, and Talion and Boromir jumped down.
"I think I've had my fill of flying through the air," Boromir told him, a bit unsteady on his feet after spending so long not on solid ground.
"You can't tell me you didn't enjoy it?" Talion teased, feeling a bit sorry that he'd left Boromir to fly alone during the battle.
"I can and will!" Boromir exclaimed with a short laugh, nodding in gratitude at the steadying hand on his shoulder. "I will take a horse over a fire drake any day!"
The two watched battered and bruised men sweep through the city, assessing the damage, tending to the wounded, and making sure everyone was accounted for. Talion fussed over the mess on Luinil's scales, dried orc blood, soot, dirt, and various kinds of small vegetation and rocks wedged between some. He removed what he could reach, but he would have to get the rest of it sometime later, when there weren't more pressing matters at hand. She didn't seem very bothered by it, if she noticed it at all, but Talion would have her as comfortable as he could make her with all the flying and fighting.
"You are leaving. Aren't you?" Boromir asked him when a few minutes had passed. He couldn't hide his disappointment when he received a nod in response.
"I must. A visit home will have to wait."
Boromir had had a feeling, when he mentioned visiting Minas Tirith before, that might might be the case. He'd dared to hope there would be more time, but Sauron and Mordor waited for no one. It was then that Frodo and Sam peaked above the stairs leading from where they had been hiding, Sam hurrying up to meet them in excited shock.
"Talion! Boromir!"
The sound of his brother's name carried on the wind, and Faramir looked up to where Sam was running out to, quickly following. He stopped where he was just enough steps up to take in the sights before him. Talion leaned down to embrace Sam with a warm and worried greeting, Boromir looking away and taking a few steps back. He had a feeling Sam would be less than pleased to see him.
"Boromir?" He looked up to see Frodo at the top of the stairs, eyes disbelieving and hopeful.
"Frodo," Boromir whispered, slowly approaching him. Frodo looked torn between running and staying where he was, but the latter instinct won as Boromir collapsed to his knees, holding Frodo close as tears fell from his eyes. Frodo returned the embrace after a moment, happy to see his friend alive even if he was still shaken from earlier events. "Please forgive me, Frodo. Forgive me for my actions at Amon Hen. I swore to protect you. I swore to keep you safe and see this journey through, and I… I tried to…"
"There is nothing to forgive, Boromir. You were not yourself. The Ring tempted you. I know you would never cause me harm in your right mind."
"I should have been stronger." He pulled back. "I should have walked away. I should have been there for you."
"You are here now, and I am safe thanks to your arrival." Frodo gave him a small smile, and Boromir returned it. "You needn't feel guilty any longer." With that Frodo went to Talion's side to greet him, and something in Sam's expression eased as the three fell into conversation.
It was then that Boromir looked at the new figure who had made their way up the stairs, to a face he didn't know if he would ever see again. It was the face he'd known since early childhood, in peacetime and in war, on the battlefield and in their home, a presence that hardly left his side and whose side he rarely left unless absolutely necessary. He saw brief flashbacks of the last time they were both here, after a great victory that resulted in ale drinking and a brief moment of celebration before they were separated once more, Denethor sending Boromir and some of their men off to Rivendell. Faramir saw brief flashbacks of his vision of Boromir laid to rest on the river Anduin. Looking now he saw that half of the Horn of Gondor was strapped to his belt, and he felt tears fall as he finally locked eyes on his brother, alive and well but a few feet away. When Faramir's arms were finally around him again he didn't dare let go, and Boromir had no issue with that, much the same way. If they let go, it might all be revealed to be a dream, a hallucination. Both men knew they couldn't bear even the thought of that happening.
"I saw you dead," Faramir whispered brokenly through tears when he recovered his ability to speak, sorrow pushing through his relief and fear. "You floated down the river in an elven boat, laid to rest with your sword laid proudly on your chest. There were so many wounds. And the Horn… Cleaved in two. I found half of it and I thought…"
"I am here. I am real, Faramir. I promised to come back to you alive, and I have." Faramir pulled back enough to look him in the eyes again.
"My visions… They've never been wrong before. I was so certain… I would never see you again." Boromir gently wiped his tears away, expression soft and loving.
"I should have died, several times over. There was a battle at Amon Hen. I should have been skewered by crossbow bolts as we were overrun by orcs. But… A friend saved me. He told me that I would return to you, and to not lose hope." Boromir looked back at Talion, who watched them with a genuine smile. Faramir followed his gaze with a chuckle.
"Your drake riding friend. Was he a part of your traveling group when you set out from Rivendell?" Boromir smiled fondly.
"Yes, and I am very glad that he was."
Talion sensed he was the topic of their conversation, walking over to them and stopping a few steps away. The brothers disentangled from each other, Faramir clearing his throat and wiping at his face.
"I owe you many thanks, friend. The battle here today would not have been won without your aid. You saved my life, the lives of my men, the hobbits… And my brother." He met Talion's eyes with overwhelming gratitude. "Thank you for bringing him home."
"Thank you for not shooting us out of the sky," Talion replied, and the three shared laughs at that, before Talion's tone turned serious. "But I'm afraid I cannot stay. I came to deliver Boromir to you, and to continue to help guide and protect the hobbits on their journey to Mordor." Faramir observed him for a few moments, a sudden spark of intrigue in his eyes.
"I take it you know Mordor well?"
"I do." Faramir smiled kindly.
"I have heard and read many tales. The Ranger of the Black Gate. The Gravewalker. A man who defies death as he battles the forces of evil within Mordor to protect Middle-earth. Gondor thanks you for all that you do, Talion. When your fight is over, I hope you can one day join us in Minas Tirith."
"I'd like that," Talion told him. "When there is finally peace again I would be honored."
It was then that Faramir went to Sam and Frodo, kneeling in front of the pair with warmth in his eyes. They regarded him cautiously, even after their earlier conversation of Faramir's intent to let them go.
"Forgive me for my treatment of you and your companions when first we met. If Mordor is your destination, allow me to at least help you out of the city and on your way there. There is a way out of the city that will keep you out of a sight for a time with a fairly straightforward path to the Black Gate. I would take you to it, if that's alright?" Frodo nodded, and Faramir followed his gaze to Talion, who sent Luinil off to rest. Talion met the hobbit's gaze before joining the trio, Boromir not far behind him.
"Are you ready to go?" he asked. Another nod in response.
"I shall see you off," Boromir told them, and Faramir began to lead them away.
Talion caught a familiar pair of spying eyes, feeling irritation bubble up within him at the fact that Gollum had found his way to the hobbit pair at some point during their journey. Gollum either hadn't noticed his presence or hadn't bothered to comment on it in front of the others, dutifully sticking close to Sam and Frodo. The group received many respectful nods and words of thanks from the men they passed as Faramir brought them to what looked like a tunnel entrance.
"The old sewer," Boromir observed.
"It runs right under the river through to the edge of the city," Faramir told them. "You'll find cover in the woods there. What route will you take once you reach them?"
"Gollum says there's a path, through Minas Morgul, that climbs up into the mountains," Frodo answered. Faramir and Boromir stiffened at that, and Talion gave a silent sigh.
"Cirith Ungol?" Faramir rounded on Gollum, regarding him with a dangerous look in his eyes. "Is that its name?"
"No! Nooo!" Gollum cried, cowering under the now combined glares from the brothers. Boromir had only spent the walk here in the presence of him, but that alone was enough to deduce that Gollum was not at all a trustworthy individual. "Yeeesss…" he admitted. "It is the only way. Master says we must go to Mordor, so we must try!" Faramir looked ready to berate him before Talion interrupted.
"I know your reservations about it," he began. "But the Black Gate will be swarming with orcs. When we first departed from Mordor, a companion and I barely made it through Udun and past the gate before we were shot from the sky. Trying to enter that way isn't an option. The many tales told of Cirith Ungol strike fear into the hearts of all who listen. They warn of great terrors and evils, but it has been under my control for decades. Once we get past its borders there should be no concern of harm from hostile orcs. I won't let anything happen to them." Faramir regarded him for a few moments before turning back to Gollum, the harshness of his voice in his next statement startling Boromir.
"May death find you quickly if you bring them to harm." Gollum put as much distance between the two of them that the stone wall at his back would allow, shaking. Faramir turned to the others. "I hope this is not our last meeting. Farewell, Talion, Frodo, Sam. Go with the goodwill of all men."
"May your travels be swift, and your hope unwavering. I hope we meet again in less dire times," Boromir added softly.
"Thank you," Frodo told them sincerely, Sam following after him as he led the way, Gollum behind him, and Talion bringing up the rear. The brothers watched them disappear, and Faramir took in Boromir's stricken expression when he looked at him.
"You mean not to follow?" Boromir slowly shook his head.
"I have done enough harm, and I would only slow them down. I will be of more use here." He looked to Faramir now. "And perhaps I am selfish in saying there's nowhere else I'd rather be." Faramir brought their foreheads together, the two of them wrapped in an embrace again. They stood there for a few moments in a comfortable silence, taking the opportunity to just appreciate the other's company after their time apart.
"Will you return to Minas Tirith with me? I'm sure you'd much rather rest in your chambers than here."
"Father bid me not to return unless I brought him back his mighty gift from our quest. I would face nothing but anger and disappointment were I to go, especially since I spent so much time in proximity with Frodo and the Ring and have nothing to show for it." He sighed. "I would remain here with the men. If not to help then at least for morale. As far as father and anyone else in the city is concerned, I am still traveling with the Fellowship that set out from Rivendell. Or…" His gaze fell to his half of the Horn of Gondor, and he plucked it from his belt. Faramir's eyes went wide, taking a step back.
"You would have him think you're dead?"
"The thought has crossed my mind. Perhaps that would be better than listening to his power hungry ramblings and his cruel remarks about you."
"The grief would drive him mad. He'd be inconsolable, and who knows what he would do then? I'd rather we stick with the idea of you still traveling. No one will speak of your presence or involvement here if we but ask." Boromir nodded in agreement, conflicted, but certain in his decision, replacing his half of the Horn on his belt again. "Are you sure this is what you want?"
"Yes." Faramir gave a small smile then.
"Then it shall be done. Come. Let us address our men."
***uan caruva sa: I am not going to make it
***va laisa estel: Do not lose hope
Closing A/N: I apologize if this is a bit all over the place. :( We'll focus more on the group headed to Rohan next chapter. I know this might mess a bit with the timeline, but let's just say those other battles conclude when Talion and co. reach Mordor, and they've got a bit of traveling to go before then.