Author's Note: Welcome back dear readers to the final chapter of this story. I hope you have all enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. It definitely has been a blast for me, exploring the world of Tolkien once more, and I am truly proud of what this story has become - a worthy sequel to Bâhukhazâd. In any case, I want to thank you all once again for all the support, for reading, and for sticking with me to the end.

I want to thank Laura201112, Rogue's Queen, and Tibblets (I would love to hear your thoughts in a more elaborate way; please feel free to PM me!) for reviewing the previous chapter, and all the others who have reviewed this story along the way. This one is for you guys. Enjoy!

Epilogue

'It is an honour to have you with us here at last, Lady Sefleth,' Faramir spoke earnestly, as a servant bowed in to fill up his wine. The Rohirric Woman had only arrived late that afternoon, and had hardly had any time to wash up before being called down for dinner. Then again, Faramir and his wife cared little for formal etiquette, and much preferred to hear whatever the young Woman had to say now than after she'd had a warm bath and a good night's rest.

'And yet you are but alone,' Éowyn remarked, picking up on the same fact that had caught his eye. 'Do not mistake my curiosity for ungratefulness, my friend, but when you wrote to me I had hoped that lady Ardhoniel would join you on your journey here.'

Sefleth did not respond immediately, instead taking a long drink from her own wine before relaying the inevitable news. In truth, she had carefully avoided the topic of the Elven lady's departure into the West in her letter. It was a delicate matter, and no matter how hard she had tried, she had been unable to bring it under words that sounded… well, a little bit less painful than the truth. 'She sailed to the Undying Lands,' she said at last, finding that despite the many hours she had pondered on the matter during her journey to Gondor, more diplomatic words yet escaped her.

'She's gone?'

Sefleth nodded to her kinswoman. Lowering her gaze, she focused on pushing around the boiled potatoes on her plate, so as to not have to meet the questioning gaze of the Lady. Even so, she felt it. 'You know how she was, Éowyn. She never healed from… Not completely at least.'

'I know.'

'We can only hope she's happier there than she was here.'

From the corner of her eye, she could see Faramir's hand closing over Éowyn's pale white one, 'I am sure she is.'

After that, conversation had quickly turned to lighter, easier topics. The couple told her of recent political changes in Gondor and news from Rohan, and in return asked her about whatever she knew of the situation on the other side of the Misty Mountains. Then they discussed at length the celebratory event that was coming up, marking the three-year anniversary of the destruction of the One Ring and the ending of the reign of Sauron. This year the event was to take place in Ithilien, and many of the preparations were already underway. As they discussed the many festivities that would take place, Sefleth couldn't help but note once more the absence of Lord Boromir, both at the table and in the planned festivities.

'… feast. Will you not stay for the event, Sefleth, or are you in such a hurry to leave this place that you cannot spare a few days with a friend?'

One of the corners of her mouth pulled up at the Lady's jab, and she took another drink from her wine – was it still the first cup or already the second? She could not tell – before speaking, 'I would not mind staying here as your guest a little longer, my friend, but I must ask: where is Lord Boromir and will he be present for the event?'

A silence fell over their table, and Sefleth noticed in surprise that both Lord and Lady were looking tense. This time it was Éowyn who offered her husband some comfort by means of a smile, before turning to her. 'Lord Boromir is not here, I am afraid, nor has he been these past years.'

'Is he dead?'

'No! No,' she said in a softer tone, 'He is simply… restless. He's been leading many of the efforts to free Gondor's lands from lingering Southrons. Last we heard, they are now just north of Dol Amroth.'

'Will he return for the anniversary event?'

'I would not count on it. Nor do I,' Faramir said, honestly, the pain evident in his voice even as he tried to mask it with a polite smile. 'He didn't attend the last two.'

Sefleth nodded, heaving an inward sigh as she knew what to do. 'Then I am afraid I must decline your offer to stay for the revels, pleasant though it sounds. While certainly not the sole reason for journeying here, part of the reason was to find Lord Boromir and ensure his well-being. If he will not come here, then I shall have to seek him out.'

Under Éowyn's unrelenting argumentations, discussions, and even pouting, she had eventually agreed to stay several more days with them in Emyn Arnen. Truly, she did not mind all that much, for the land, despite its close proximity to the lands of Mordor, was fair and green. Even so, Sefleth knew that her time there could only be limited, and on the evening of the third night she announced her departure. On the fourth, she rode to Edhellond.

The journey took her through most of Gondor, past the sea, and eventually into the Bay of Belfalas. There she stayed for a day, in the city of Dol Amroth, before riding the final miles to the Elven haven in the north – but not before being warned by the innkeeper that her destination was one of the few places still beset by Corsairs. At least she was going in the right direction…

The Gondorian camp was not hard to find once she left the northern road, for it was perched on a cliff just above the haven itself. Or what was left of it, in any case; much of the original buildings lay in ruin, the crude tents put up by the Corsairs almost an improvement on the general state of decline. Clearly whatever years of prosperity the haven had known, they were long past.

Upon her entry of the camp she was immediately confronted by two Men in Gondorian armour, but they were quick to step down once she mentioned the name of their Captain – albeit with a suspicious expression. She nodded her thanks to them, before guiding Nimloth in the direction of the furthest campfire.

She recognised him by his stooped shoulders and impossible stillness, even before she could see his face. Clearing her throat, he visibly jumped and turned to her with an annoyed expression.

'Lady Sefleth?' He questioned in surprise, though not necessarily the happy kind.

'Lord Boromir,' she nodded her head at him, letting go of the reins of Nimloth and approaching the fire, 'Do you mind if I sit?' She motioned at the empty log across from him.

'Of course, please.'

Despite the verbal agreement, his voice was flat, and expressed little desire on his side for a conversation. A silence – not completely unexpected – fell over them, for despite the polite conversation they had little to say to one another. That is, apart from the things that needed to be said, but felt too heavy to unload just now. In the silence, Sefleth took to inconspicuously studying the Man opposite from her.

Time had healed many of the wounds that had littered his body last time she'd seen him, the scars they had inevitably left not visible in the warm light of the flames. His hair looked a little longer – though not necessarily fashionably so – and his beard had gotten fuller, stubble peppering most of his cheeks and upper lip. The one thing that hadn't changed, it seemed, was the haunted look in his eyes.

When she found those eyes suddenly meeting hers, she quickly averted her gaze to the fire. 'I heard you've kept busy.'

He grunted in what could be interpreted as confirmation. Or a scoff. 'Why are you here, Lady Sefleth?'

'I travelled to Emyn Arnen and I met with your brother and sister-in-law. I asked about your whereabouts and they told me you were here, freeing the land. I followed their general directions and the more specific ones I got in Dol Amroth, and alas, here I am.'

She could practically feel her person being scorched by the irritated glance he directed at her. 'And why were you interested in my "whereabouts", Lady Sefleth? I am certainly not aware of any war that I can help you join behind your King's back.'

'I don't need your help; if anything, y…' she bit her lip, just before the venomous words could pour out. If anything, you need mine. She took a deep breath, forcing her own irritation to the background. 'I merely wanted to see how you were faring after the war.'

'She sent you?'

'She… I… what?'

'You are riding her horse,' Boromir said calmly, though his posture belied that calmness. 'So I take it she's gone.'

Sefleth opened her mouth, lies ready on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she found her mouth go dry, the words disintegrating on her tongue, and she was left to stare dumbly at him for a long time. It was only now that she realised that his words had not been a question. At last, she nodded, 'Ardhoniel sailed into the West with several of her kin. She asked me… she asked me to check whether you were well.' Or even alive.

The words were met with the expected indignation, but it lasted much shorter than she had thought, before disappearing behind an emotionless mask once more. 'I see.'

'And are you?'

'Quite well, as you can see.'

Thinking it unwise to contest his statement, Sefleth fell silent again, but felt unable to leave like that. Inwardly, she cursed the late Elven lady. She had done what Ardhoniel had wanted, hadn't she? She had come here, she had seen him, and he was alive. Was that not enough?

Then why did she feel so compelled to stay and to somehow, someway try to make it better?

She sighed again, her wandering eyes finding Nimloth munching on some grass just outside the camp circle. 'She fought me nail and tooth all the way to Gondor,' she found herself saying, nodding in the direction of the mount.

The change in topic seemed to have caught Boromir off guard, and he actually turned to her with a look that did not contain any annoyance this time. Then he hummed, 'She's not very friendly to people. I never had any issues riding her myself, but she would snap at Men if they came but a little bit too close.'

'So I noticed,' Sefleth mumbled, absent-mindedly rubbing her left hand which had gotten bitten on multiple occasions. 'In a way, I think it's a good thing that once I return to Rohan I will no longer be riding her as much, I suppose.' From the corner of her eye, she noticed the Gondorian had already lost interest in the conversation again, that empty look overtaking his face – and she cursed herself as her heart bled for him. She had kept her promise. She had checked up on him. And he was well; if not emotionally, at least physically. But his happiness was not her job – nor her business.

And yet, she found herself starting to wonder, what was really waiting for her back home? Helping out at the farm, helping raise her siblings' children as her own life passed her by. She would be going back to normal life, back to routine, and the adventures that she had been a part of would fade into distant memory, until it would seem like something that had happened in another life time, to another person. That was what was waiting for her. A life of normality. Of contentment. And it would still be waiting for her in one year, or two, or even ten.

'I don't think Nimloth would like very much to be a farm animal, however, and I would loathe to let her go free after being gifted her.' She said thoughtfully, pretending like she was still considering the dilemma whilst in fact she already knew the solution. For good measure, she tapped a finger to her chin. 'But since she likes you so well, I could of course lend her to you. That way all of us win: you have a strong, intelligent horse, and she a place to make herself useful.'

'And you?' He inquired, tone dripping with suspicion.

'Well, obviously I would need to keep an eye on her, make sure you're not pawning her off to some local farmer.' She noticed his gaze had darkened once more, and she quickly continued. 'So I think it's best if I stick around, help you guys with odd jobs, maybe do a little fighting, y…-'

'Definitely not.'

She huffed, 'I'm sure you need more Men; I hardly imagine there are that many Men who wish to risk their lives in times of peace. I can be of use!'

'I said no.'

'But…' She fell quiet, knowing that she would not win him over with rational argumentation. Then she remembered what had convinced him to help her last time, and she bowed closer, allowing the fire to illuminate her face. 'Look, there's nothing for me back at Rohan. Sure I can go back, help my siblings with their lives, but the truth is that I have nothing waiting for me. No husband, no children. Nothing. But there is one thing that I do have. Something that I know.

'I was raised with a sword in my hand, dreaming of exciting adventures in far-off places. While I now know not all adventures are of the good kind, it does not change the fact that I know nothing else.'

She allowed the truthful statement to hang in the air, knowing that it would not help her case to embellish it with fancy words or mawkish sentiments. From the corner of her eye, Sefleth then eyed him inconspicuously, noticing with satisfaction that at least he had not turned her down immediately this time. Not sentiment, but recognition, it seemed, was the key to thawing this stoic man. How interesting.

It was not for a very long time that he spoke, and when he did, the tone of his voice suggested that he did so with the utmost reluctance. 'Very well. You may stay, as long as you do not hinder us.' He got up from his place at the fire, 'So I suggest you stay out of my Men's way, Lady Sefleth – and especially out of mine.'

As he turned to walk away, she couldn't help the smile that spread across her lips. Moody, with a bite that would cause even the toughest Man to shrink in on himself, but with a good heart. Lord Boromir certainly was an interesting Man. She could only imagine this would be quite the adventure, indeed.