The Land of the Horselords opened out before them, a sea of rolling gold and green beneath an endless, cloudy sky. Some leagues away, farmsteads and streams dotted the landscape — flashes of brown and blue — and a brisk wind soughed through the tall grass of the valleys and plains, carrying the sweet, warm scent of hay.

Faramir took it all in in a glance. "It is beautiful…"

Boromir nodded and pointed to the north-west where a distant, craggy hill rose alone from the midst of a wide green plain. It seemed to Faramir's keen eyes that it was topped in gold.

"There lies Edoras and the Golden Hall of Meduseld, whither we must go."

Faramir shaded his eyes for a moment and held Boromir by the elbow. "Look," he said, gesturing down the hillside. Several dark shapes were moving below them, speeding across the plain. "Riders approach us."

Boromir squinted, smiled broadly as the figures resolved into riders with glinting silver helms and golden hair. "The Rohirrim. Thank Eru!"

After a few minutes the Riders crested the top of the hill and hailed the brothers and Boromir laughed in gladness, for Theodred himself led them. The prince dismounted at the sight of his old friend, wonder and concern upon his face as he embraced Boromir before pulling back to look at him.

"How came you here?" He said, "Have you no horses? We were not told look for your coming."

The smiled slid from Boromir's face. "We came on foot, but in truth we had nowhere else to go. Faramir's camp was attacked two nights ago and we were forced to flee through the woods, Uruk Hai on our trail."

The tall Rohir nodded grimly, eyes flickering up and down Boromir's person, noting the stiff way he held himself. "That explains much."

He turned and crossed to Faramir, reached out to hold the younger man by the shoulders. Close to, he saw that the ranger's skin was slightly dewy, flushed yet pale, that a smear of old blood darkened his temple, and another darkened his left side. Concern bloomed bright in his eyes. "I would that we had met under happier circumstances Faramir of Gondor, for I have heard much about you."

A wan smile flickered about his lips, "I beg of you not to believe everything my brother has told you."

Boromir grinned but Theodred looked long at him. "How badly are you wounded?"

Faramir shifted slightly and lent Theodred a glimpse of the wound at his side, but said merely, "A gash and some broken ribs."

"He runs a high fever and has lost much blood," Boromir said.

Theodred sighed, having feared as much. Knowing Boromir as he did he knew there would be more to the story, and turned, cocking a brow. "And you?"

Boromir shifted and Faramir's lips twitched, a gleam of amusement lighting his grey eyes. "Shall I explain or would it be easier to show them?"

A bark of laughter escaped Boromir. "You little whelp, you are enjoying this!"

Faramir tilted his head in concession. "Only a very little."

Boromir turned to Theodred, saying frankly. "I took an arrow in the arse."

A round of chuckles followed his statement and Theodred grinned. "Come, sit a while if you can, and we may tend your hurts."

And so the Riders dismounted their horses and kindled a small fire beneath the eaves of the forest. They brewed tea and gave some to the brothers to bring down their fevers, saw that they applied a pungent ointment to their wounds, and provided clean strips of linen to bind their hurts.

While the men worked Boromir regaled the prince with the full tale of their escape from the orcs, and Faramir's subsequent encounter with the Uruks, his love for his brother obvious from the pride and exasperation mixed equally in his tone as he spoke. "I would not have made it this far without him, but he refused to leave me. In fact, he disobeyed a direct order and got himself stuck like a pig trying to lure the danger away from me."

"It was naught," Faramir said softly.

Suddenly angry with Faramir for his humility Boromir snorted, ignoring for the moment Theodred's presence at his side. "Indeed, any man of Gondor would do the same to keep the Steward's Heir safe?"

"Think you that if our places were reversed I would do any different? You are my brother…"

"Mir—"

Faramir's expression shuttered as he looked down into his cup. "I cannot tell which bothers you more: the fact that I disobeyed you or that you needed me to."

The barb hit home and Boromir flushed. It was true that he was a proud man, a man used to command, and to need anyone's help went against the grain. But Faramir had always been the exception to that rule. There was no-one he would rather trust his life to, and no-one for whom he would rather give his own.

"That I needed you to," he said softly. "I would not see you hurt to spare me, little brother."

Faramir's eyes bored into his own. "And I would not see you hurt when I could spare you."

Boromir smiled sadly. "I know."

Suddenly Faramir raised his head, eyes trained upon the forest at their back. A rustling came from the trees, the snap of a branch.

The Uruk Hai had found them.