I'm back, readers! Sorry it took me forever to update; I was away at camp for a week, and before that, I was managing my other stories. But I finally got around to updating this one. This is kind of a filler chapter and kind of short, but it's rather important in my opinion. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I only own my OCs.

Chapter 16: The Journey Begins

Philip was officially not happy.

He had ridden into Osgiliath with Boromir and the other reinforcements to help the Rangers drive out the flood of orcs pouring into the ruined city, and within a few minutes of the battle, he had fallen off his horse when the stallion had reared violently. So now here he was, picking himself off the blood-strewn ground and trying to regain his balance.

"Philip!"

A voice called his name as a figure jumped down from one of the crumbling walls and impaled an orc about to strike down the fourteen-year-old. The man was cloaked in dark green, his hood pulled back to reveal a familiar face.

"Arthion!" Philip cried, beaming at the dark-haired man.

The Ranger nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. With a swift motion, Arthion darted behind Philip and struck down another orc. Following the elder man's lead, Philip hefted his shield and sliced his sword through the air, charging into battle.

"It's been quite some time since we last saw each other," Philip commented, driving his sword through an advancing orc.

"Indeed," Arthion agreed, decapitating another foe. "Though I do wish we had met under better circumstances."

Philip chuckled. "Yes, preferably not while we are fighting for our lives."

Arthion let out a short laugh. "It is good to see you again, Philip."

The young boy grinned at the elder. "You too. Now, let us drive these orcs right out of Osgiliath." Arthion nodded in agreement, and the two leapt into the fray, slicing and striking at the oncoming black hoard of orcs. Philip's strokes were clean and swift, dispatching oncoming foes easily. Arthion was an invaluable companion, well trained and quite capable of a battle like this.

The fight raged on for hours, but eventually, the orcs retreated from Osgiliath, the Gondorians claiming victory over the city. Proud and tall, Boromir climbed to the tallest arch in the city, holding the white banner of Gondor high. All the soldiers gathered beneath him, cheering for their beloved captain and, in Philip's case, amazing friend.

"This city was once the jewel of our kingdom," Boromir began. "And that it shall be once more! Never again shall the armies of Mordor touch the lands of my people. This city, the city of Osgiliath, has been reclaimed for Gondor!"

"For Gondor!" the soliders echoed.

Even from the ground, Philip could see the brilliant white smile on Boromir's face. "For Gondor!" the captain repeated, thrusting his sword high into the air.

"FOR GONDOR!" the soldiers cried once more. The armies then began to mill about, talking amiably and relishing in the calm that comes after a battle has been won. Philip bid goodbye to Arthion and wriggled through the crowds, trying to find whom he considered his best friend.

"Boromir!" the young boy called, running to his friend. The Captain of the White Tower was standing with his brother Faramir, chatting amiably.

"Philip!" Boromir greeted warmly. The two had become nearly inseparable over the past year, almost as close as brothers. "I see you have fared well during the battle."

"Never better," Philip replied cheerfully. "You did well yourself. Excellent speech by the way. Short and simple."

Boromir chuckled. "Of course. Leaves more time for celebration!" The trio laughed merrily, watching as the soldiers took out kegs of ale and began drinking heartily.

"It's good to see you again, Faramir," Philip stated happily as the threesome each filled a cup with ale.

"You as well, Philip," Faramir replied, a smile growing on his face. "I saw you during the battle with Arthion. You did quite well."

Philip grinned, taking a sip of ale. "Thanks, Faramir. I had a really good trainer."

"That you did," Boromir stated, ruffling Philip's hair. "I am proud to say that I have trained you two fine warriors." Both Philip and Faramir beamed at his statement, and as Boromir raised his glass in a toast, the two followed suit. "Remember today, for today, life is good."

The trio smiled gladly and drank from their goblets. Unfortunately, the grin on Faramir's face only lasted about a second longer as the man noticed a figure coming towards them in the distance. "He's here," he muttered gloomily.

Philip stiffened, knowing who "he" was. Boromir's cheery expression quickly disappeared. "Can he not give us one moment of peace?"

"I guess not," Philip replied, his tone dull. "I am just going to go now…" He did not exactly want to be around Denethor during his discussions with his sons. Boromir had confided in him more than once about how his father unfairly favors him over Faramir. To Philip, Denethor was kind for letting him stay in Minas Tirith, but he was also very strict and cold at times. And Philip certainly did not want to see Denethor angry, which he probably would be around Faramir, if what Boromir had told him was true.

Philip wandered through the city, greeting acquaintances he had made during his time in Minas Tirith. He eventually found his steed standing with some of the other horses, apparently unhurt. For several minutes, Philip just stood there beside his horse, gently stroking his neck and waiting for Boromir or Faramir to find him.

Finally, Boromir came to Philip, a dour expression on his face. "What happened?" Philip asked his friend.

"Father is sending me to Rivendell for a council," Boromir answered gloomily. "I suggested that Faramir should be the one to go, him being better at those diplomatic matters, but he insisted."

Philip raised his eyebrows, guessing what the purpose of the council was, but didn't say anything.

"I have requested that you accompany me," Boromir continued.

Philip was quite surprised at Boromir's statement. "But…why?"

"You are a valuable companion and a trusted friend," Boromir stated, a sincere smile on his face. "I would not leave you behind on such a journey." He paused for a moment. "Also, you have traveled to Rivendell before. I convinced Father that you would be a suitable guide." Boromir swiftly mounted his steed, the action mirrored by Philip. "Once we return to Minas Tirith, prepare your things. We leave at dawn's light tomorrow."

Philip nodded, a smile spreading across his face. Now, the adventure would really begin.

~o*o*o*o~

TWANG!

Fern smiled as the arrow flew from her bow and pierced the center of the target. A cluster of arrows already were embedded in the middle of the circle, their white fletching shining against the target. Grinning proudly, Fern strode to the target and yanked out the arrows, refilling the quiver Castien had gifted to her.

Speaking of Castien, the brown-haired ellon watched Fern silently from the shadows, a grim smile on his face. He did not like the news he was sent to deliver to the elleth, and he knew that she would not be fond of it either.

"Fern?" Castien called, stepping forward.

Said elleth whirled around. "Yes?" she answered, the smile on her face dropping as she saw the solemn look upon her Castien's face. "What troubles you, Castien?"

"Lord Elrond has called a council to be held in Rivendell," Castien replied. "Legolas is to go, along with a few of King Thranduil's advisors." He paused, heaving a sigh. "You are to go as well."

Fern creased her brow in thought. "What of you? Are you not going as well?"

"My duty is to stay here in Mirkwood to guard the city," Castien stated. "I cannot go." He gently cupped her face with his hand, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "You will be safe, Fern. The road is well protected, and you travel in great company."

Fern shook her head. "But I do not wish to go," she protested. "I do not want to leave you."

Castien smiled sadly. "It is your duty to go, just as it is mine to stay." He brushed her cheek softly. "But know this: you have become a part of my heart just as I have become a part of yours. All you need is to remember me, and I will be with you, wherever you are."

Fern nodded somberly, fiddling with the strap of the quiver on her back. She briskly strode out of the training grounds, pausing at the exit. "Stay safe, Castien," she stated before turning around and leaving.

Castien gazed sadly at her retreating back. "You as well, Fern."

~o*o*o*o~

"Are you sure you want to accompany Aragorn?"

Hope turned to Chase, a solemn expression on her face. "Yes, Chase. Aragorn has become like a brother to me. You know what dangers lie ahead. I refuse to just stand by while he fights to protect Frodo and his company."

Chase sighed. "I understand, Hope," he replied. "I just worry for you. You heard Hunter's warning."

"I did indeed, but I will not be idle," Hope retorted. Her expression softened, and she grasped Chase's hand comfortingly. "Do not fear; I will be fine."

"How can you be sure?" Chase questioned persistently.

"I cannot," Hope answered honestly. "But I have faith in myself; that is enough."

Chase sighed. "Very well." He stepped back, a sincere expression on his face. "Be on your guard."

"I will," Hope replied, striding towards the entrance of Rivendell, where Gandalf and Aragorn were waiting. She paused for a moment, turning to face Chase. "Farewell."

Chase dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Good luck."

~o*o*o*o~

The town of Bree was bustling, several residents strolling down the streets amidst the candlelit windows of the nearby taverns and inns. The moon shone brightly overhead, illuminating the three strangers as the passed silently through the village. Two wore hoods, one considerably shorter than the other, each flanking a tall figure riding upon a horse. Instead of a hood, the rider bore a pointy blue hat, the cloth faded from use. The trio paused before a three-story inn, the wooden sign swinging from the post reading "The Prancing Pony". Inside, drunken laughter of patrons could be heard among the conversation and the slamming of tankards onto the wooden tables.

Gandalf turned to his companions. "Do you remember the task I have given you?" he asked gravely, his voice deep and serious.

"Indeed," Hope answered. Aragorn nodded his head in agreement.

A flicker of a smile crossed Gandalf's face. "With luck, I shall return to Bree before the hobbits reach here. But if not, the responsibility falls to you."

"You can trust us to bring the hobbits to Rivendell safely, Gandalf," Aragorn replied quietly.

The Wizard nodded, turning to Hope. "Keep a watchful eye out, Hawkins," he cautioned, using Hope's Ranger name. "Steadily, the danger increases. You must be careful." Hope bit her lip, nodding her head in understanding. Satisfied, Gandalf spurred his steed into a gallop, cantering out of the town and into the night.

Aragorn turned to Hope, grasping her shoulder. "Are you ready?"

Hope sighed, squaring her shoulders. "Ready as I will ever be." And without another word, the two strode into the Inn of the Prancing Pony, about to begin the journey of their lives.

Alright, so next chapter should be the beginning of Fellowship of the Ring! Is anyone else excited? Just me? Oh…

Anyways, please review!