1These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema . This story was written purely for pleasure and not for profit.

A/N I know that it has been far too long since I have updated this story, internet issues and college have just not permitted me to write let alone post until now! I hope that everyone who had been reading will continue. Again, sorry for the belated update!! I will finish this story! I am bound and determined! Plus I have so many other story ideas!

The Calvary

Mablung and Anborn were sprinting as if Sauron himself were on their tail. They charged through the dense forest, and even though their pace was relentless they were ever mindful to keep their Rangerly lightness of foot. They hardly unsettled a single leaf, even the owls took no notice of the cloaked men practically flying over the forest flora.

"Wait, wait. Slow your pace, man, I am not as young as I look!" said Anborn in a whisper that only another Ranger would hear. Mablung, though he was a big man in stature, had the endurance of a warhorse and could run for miles without stopping to catch his breath. Anborn, on the other hand, needed a few moments to take a breath and relieve the stitch in his side.

"Oh, sorry An, have we gone on too long?" He had a smug half smile on his face, for teasing among the Rangers was as common as drunken Hobbits at the Green Dragon. Mablung looked all around him, using his sharp eyes to try and detect any unwelcome follows. When he felt comfortable that they were indeed alone he approached Anborn, who was crouched next to a tree ten paces to his left.

"Valar, man ! Are you that out of shape?" Mablung whispered, as he knelt down next to his fellow Ranger and friend. Anborn had his head down and was breathing heavily.

"What? Oh no, look," said Anborn as he rested a hand on his friend's shoulder and pointed down. "How far do you think they are? We couldn't have passed them." Mablung said nothing but kept a brow furrowing silence; He was thinking.

"No, look over there." Mablung said pointing slightly towards the South, " they've turned 'round, you see some of the hooves' tracks are facing backwards." The two men were perplexed, whose Calvary was bounding their was through Ithilien?

King's encampment

Aragorn had decided that he would make an executive decision; he knew that Faramir's wishes were for him to wait in Minas Tirith, but Aragorn had a feeling this was going to be messy, and the closer he and his men were to Ithilien, the better. He sat in his pavilion; they had made camp along the route he knew was frequented by the Rangers on their way to Henneth Annûn if coming form the North. He would wait here for his friend for two days, and if he still had no word, he would have to take action himself.

Lost in thought, the sudden cough at the flap of his glorified tent startled him. "My lord, may I speak with you?" it was Dirihael, the Lord of Lossarnach.

"Speak!" said Aragorn. He got up and walked towards the voice.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, my King, but should we be camped so out in the open? If Cellas' men, well orcs rather, come across us in the night we are offered no protection. I'm sorry for being blunt, my lord, but are we not sitting ducks as they say?" Dirihael watched the Kings expression, hoping not to find any hint of offense, when the King started to laugh! "My lord, I don't understand, do you find me amusing?"

"Oh no, no, I'm sorry Dirihael, it's just now I can see why you and Faramir are as good friends as you are. Do you know how long it took for me to get him to just call me 'Aragorn'? The man has impeccable manners, almost to a fault."

The King had a totally different look now, thought Dirihael, he seemed less of a legend, and more of a man. He guessed that the Citadel had a stifling effect upon a man. It most certainly did on the former Steward of Gondor, and his two sons, they always seemed more at ease outside of Minas Tirith. As children, the sons of the Steward would often come to Lossarnach in the summer seasons, he and Faramir would run about free from the constraints that came along with being the son of a Lord of Gondor. It was a lost time now, a time of innocents, before they knew of swords and battle, which was something that neither he nor Faramir took to. They had bonded over a shared loathing for the military. Even as children they were not the sort to thrive in such a rigid environment, but they were sons of Gondor, not of their own, and that meant they were to be soldiers, whether they wanted to or not, had not been a consideration.

"Yes my Lor...I mean Aragorn, we um, share many qualities. I'm sorry I'm being formal again." Dirihael was shaking his head as he spoke, "its just that ever since I was a boy, Fara and I would read about the Kings of old, we would talk about the return of the King of Gondor and how it would... I dunno, free us of our military duties."

"So you are unhappy with your title then." Aragorn wasn't mocking, or being trite, he had a look of concern in his eyes almost like he understood.

"No, no times were different then, well not that different, but the Ring War was on the verge, the battles were already beginning. I guess being raised your entire life always in training for some future catastrophe was a lot to bear." he smiled at the King, a kind of what can you do look and Aragorn laughed again, but it was a comforting laugh, Aragorn put a hand on Dirihael's shoulder.

"Sometimes destiny cannot be avoided, I am a good example of that. We are meant to be who we are, to have to face the things that we do, it shapes us to fill the place we are meant to in this world, Dirihael." Aragorn got up then, he walked over to the pack next to his cot and pulled out a bottle, then he rummaged around for some cups, but decided it was unnecessary after having no success.

"You've brought wine? Valar, I could use some." Dirihael looked on in anticipation.

"Hmm, sorry to disappoint but it is only water." The two shared a laugh and a swig of fresh stream water and having finally seen a glimpse of the real King, Dirihael could see why so many had such loyalty towards him, this legend was a man after all and that was what Gondor needed.

Cellas' cave

Éowyn sat looking up at Boromir. She stared into his green eyes and it was almost like watching the sky clear after a hard rain. He staggered backwards; dropping his sword by his side, he looked as though he had been hit over the head, except it had a sobering effect.

"My...My lady, I am sorry...what have I done?" he let go of the sword then; it crashed to the ground with an echoing clang. His eyes were glassy when he looked at her again. He was in shock.

"You have done nothing, it is Cellas, he has led you astray all to get to Faramir and King Elessar." Eowyn crawled over to the seemingly broken man; this was the brother of the man she loved, and she suddenly felt an overwhelming sympathy for him.

"My brother, he is safe? Please, my lady where is he? Ithilien was getting overrun, I have feared for him. And the hobbits, is the Ring destroyed?" Boromir had a look of fear on his face, like her uncle often had when Théodred and Éomer were in the field, and a messenger would herald news of them. This was the Boromir that her fiancé had told her about, the man that cared for Faramir, and above over Gondor more then himself.

"My lord, yes, Faramir is well and Sauron is no more, there are many tales from the Ring War that you shall need to hear, but not now. Know that he is well, and probably looking for me at this very moment, he and I are to be wed." Éowyn took the still stunned Boromir by the arm, coaxing him to get back to his feet. "We must get out of here, it is not safe now that you know who you really are, Cellas will kill us. We must make haste!"

"Wait, wait, if we go now Cellas will know that something has happened. He will break this camp and move on, and he is not a man to be found if he doesn't want to be. You go and I will stay." Boromir was on his feet now; he had his hands on Éowyn's shoulders and was looking into her eyes, showing her that he was alright again. "Éowyn, if you really are to marry my brother then I would have you go, Valar! He needs a little joy in his life."

"Boromir he needs you, Gondor needs you! Please come with me, we can find Cellas again! I will not leave you!" she was forceful in her tone, and Boromir liked that in a woman, she would be good for his somewhat introverted brother.

"Go and tell my brother and Aragorn where this cave is, tell them to come on horse back, t hat way they will have the advantage. I will be well; Cellas must be destroyed if Gondor is to ever get back on her feet. I am a lord of Gondor, my lady and it is my duty to see it done." Eowyn starred back at him, it was almost like listening to Faramir, he had the same loyalty to his country. It was what made her love him, for she too had a fierce love for the Riddermark.

Faramir's camp

"Here is what we are going to do." Faramir and Damrod were kneeling on the ground; Faramir was using a stick and the earth itself to draw a crude map of the cave and its surroundings. "At the front here," he pointed to a large X he made at the cave mouth, "is where the most guards are, but all along the sides are small openings. They all seems to he occupied, but only with an orc or two, we can take them."

"Right, so you rescue Eowyn, and I'll find Boromir." Damrod didn't look up to his friend for a reaction, but he got one anyway.

"No, I have to find my brother. You take Eowyn to safety. I have to see him for myself. I don't know, perhaps I could reason with him." Faramir sat back on to his feet. He breathed out and shook his ginger head. "I just don't understand it, Damrod, it is Boromir. He...he just couldn't do something like this; there must be a reason for his actions. He would not go against Gondor, against me."

TBC