Throne of Stone -II- Book Three of the Tales of the Fourth Age Series

Chapter Nine

Fo.A 2, June 21st, Mid-Year Celebration

Boromir blew the horn a second time, then set it back at his waist, staring at the walls now alive with movement. He and Údar sat on their horses, just out of reach of the archers should they decide to fire first and ask questions later, awaiting the arrival of the king.

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He remembered. He remembered all of it now! Aragorn raced through the streets, down every circle, towards the gates. He had come.

Aragorn saw Faramir just ahead of him standing on the walls beside the gate. "Open the gates!" shouted Aragorn, stopping short of the gate as it began to swing inwards. His heart was thrumming in his chest, mind swimming as he saw the two figures sitting on their horse not too far off.

Faramir joined him, confusion visible on his face. "What in the name of Ecthelion is going on?" he asked. "Who are they?"

"My horse!" Aragorn commanded, then turned to Faramir. "In truth, I do not fully know. He came to me in a vision, and it was he who had suggested that I look into Dalion's estate."

Faramir looked at him as if he'd lost his mind, but Aragorn insisted. "He also told me to look for a letter, one I just received today!"

At that moment a soldier brought Aragorn and Faramir's horses; fifteen guards were already mounted and ready to ride out with them.

Aragorn lept into the saddle as the crowds gathered around them and beckoned to Faramir as he started riding. "Ride out with me, and let us see if what I say is true."

Faramir obeyed his king's command and climbed atop his horse and spurred it to catch up.

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Boromir's stomach was twisted into a hard knot as he watched the gates open and two figures riding towards them, guards flanked on either side.

He knew without Údar telling him who they were: Aragorn, looking every inch the king Boromir had known him to be before the end; and his little brother, Faramir. He seemed to have changed very little, save that his temperament was reserved than it had been growing up.

Boromir was thankful for the hood that covered his face in spite of the night quickly closing in around them. He had waited years for this moment and had gone through so so much to here, and now...now he was afraid. What if he was not accepted back? What if his brother refused to see him?

The questions continued to assault his mind as Boromir shot a quick glance at Údar. He sat casually in the saddle, straight-backed, shoulders squared, eyes fixed on the men riding to meet them. Aside from Aragorn, this man was someone he admired and sought to be like.

Within minutes of sounding the horn, Aragorn and Faramir sat on their mounts just a couple of yards away from them.

"Hail, Elessar, High King of Gondor! Hail, Faramir, Steward of the king," boomed Údar, giving the Gondorian salute.

"Who are you, that you sound horns below our walls at nightfall?" demanded Aragorn, feigning anger and annoyance.

Údar's lips tugged into a smirk. "You know full well who I am, My Lord," replied Údar, calling Aragorn's bluff.

"How dare you address your king in such a way," Faramir growled.

Údar turned his keen eyes to Faramir. "He is not my king," he replied coolly.