Epilogue: The road goes ever ever on

Guiding his future King towards where he had seen Boromir headed, Faramir had carried his own worries; he had not failed to notice the contention between his brother and heir of Elendil. Knowing his brother like none other Faramir had seen the countless times that his brother had curbed his pride, or held back on a sharp tongued reaction. And it made Faramir fear for the future, for he could also see that Lord Aragorn held the same amount of tension towards Boromir.

When they came within earshot of the dwarven camp, Faramir could hear the voices of the dwarfs. "We will stand with you," it was not hard to recognize the voice of Dwalin, the warmaster. The dwarves all stood in a near perfect semi-circle, their faces turned towards Prince Kili.

Faramir's eyes widened when his brother, who stood with them drew his sword. "I will stand with you too, if you'll have me."

Had the world gone up in flames the Ranger could not have been more surprised. Across the distance he saw the Dwarf Prince and while his expression was certainly controlled, no one could deny the shock in his dark eyes. "What of you obligations to Gondor, Boromir?" he asked, when he found his voice again.

The Gondorian warrior stood sword in hand in the firelight, the torches illuminating his bright hair and reflected in his eyes. "I gave her all I could," he said steadily. "I fought for her against the shadow until the end. But I cannot go further for her and Lord Aragorn has released me of my oaths to her. I stand here with you, having no bonds, nor country to call my home any more. I will follow you, if you'll have me."

"I should have spoken to him sooner," Aragorn whispered, watching Boromir stepping forward and bent knee to Kili.

"No," Faramir said softly. "this is no anger Aragorn… he is free. Finally, the chain that held him through duty and obligation since he was a youth is broken. You set him free." It hurt horribly to see it and it was exhilarating to watch but Faramir knew that this was his brother's choice, the cause he chose freely and that he would gladly follow.

"'Here do I swear fealty and service to Kili son of Dis daughter of Thrain, and to the line of Durin hereafter, to speak and to be silent, to do and to let be, to come and to go, in need or plenty, in peace or war, in living or dying, from this hour henceforth, until my King release me, or death take me, or the world end. So say I, Boromir, son of Denethor of the House of Húrin."

Faramir winced, this was not the way dwarves swore their loyalties, their oaths were as ancient as their people were, he had read some of that in old books about them. But Prince Kili did not correct nor rebuke the oath; he took the blade, accepting the offered loyalties. "And I have heard your oath, as have Mahal and the forefathers, under their eyes it was spoken and it was heard by world below and the skies above, may it endure until the world ends. Hear you then my vow to you: no loyalty shall be forgotten, nor valor remain unhonored, if to the lawcourt you are called, in legal tangles twisted and tied, then I and all of my kin shall stand as oath-helpers if you should need this; and finally, my sword shall stand between you and your enemies, my strength beside you boldly, for no arm alone will win battle."

Being used to the stark promise of Gondor's oaths Faramir could not help to be touched by the kind of loyalty these oaths exchanged. He knew that this oath was not traditional dwarven either, with Boromir invoking neither Mahal nor Eru in his vow, Kili had to call upon Mahal and the world itself, to satisfy dwarven propriety. Also the last part of the oath had been changed, but Faramir understood why Kili would not use the brotherless phrase in this context. He saw Boromir receive the blade back and Kili lifting him up, the following embrace conveyed a wealth of feeling. The other dwarves cheered, a ring closing, as Boromir was welcomed into their ranks.

The Ithilien Ranger looked to Aragorn, who had watched this scene unfold, much like himself. What was the future King thinking about this? He had seen how worried he had been when he thought he had pushed Boromir too far, and yet he watched that scene with a palpable amount of sadness. "I am sorry it came to that, my liege," Faramir said. "he was Gondor's best soldier."

"Nay," Aragorn turned towards Faramir. "it is well done. He may have been her finest, most ruthless soldier, but he was not the man who stood between me and certain death at the Black Gates. Boromir follows his heart; there can be no better path to choose. And I have the man I would wish for by my side."

Never used to praise or acknowledgement Faramir felt his cheeks heat, glad that the darkness hid it. He bowed respectfully, surprised to see Aragorn smile. "Go to your brother. I fear it may be the last chance for you to speak for a long time."

Seeing his brother between his new chosen comrades was something Faramir would have to get used to, he thought. They were the wildest, toughest bunch of fighters and travelers he had ever seen, but somehow that was made him think why Boromir would be alright with them. His brother had always been the warrior, the fighter, and the war had shaped him. They too had been formed and hammered by a merciless world. He knew his brother had chosen another war to join, but if he was brutally honest with himself, he could not picture his brother in a peaceful City going over the peacetime duties of a Captain.

"Fari!" Boromir called out to him, it had been years since Faramir had seen his brother smile so easily. But he also could see that Boromir was searching for words to explain what had just transpired.

"I saw, Boromir," he simply stated. "and I am happy if this is your choice. Even as you have charted your path straight into the next war."

"It is my choice, Fari. And if someone does not begin to fight the Orcs in the Misty Mountains, we might as well send envoys to that Goblin King under Mt. Gundalbad." The brother's eyes met and many things did not need saying, they both understood wordlessly. "Will you be alright?" Boromir asked. "With the new King…"

"…whom you dislike." Faramir slapped his brother's shoulder. "You serve the King you chose, and so will I."

. . .

The road wound up the high hills of Mindolluin before it would bring them to the entrance of an ancient dwarven road, long forgotten and abandoned. The column moved slowly past the sharp turn in the road, taking the steep path up. Boromir had guided his horse to the side of the road and turned back. Down there in the shadow of the mountain lay the white city, a thorn of pearl and silver glittering in the morning light. Finally free and finally at peace. The last time he had looked back on the city, he had begun a journey into uncertain lands for an even more uncertain reason; following a haunting dream his brother and he had shared after retaking Osgiliath. Fear and darkness had accompanied his ride north, as had doubts gnawing on his soul. He would always be grateful for that dream, for it had led him to not only find hope, but also the friendship and strength to see this through to the very end.

He could not have returned to the Citadel, to Minas Tirith, without feeling the cold echo of his father's crazed end, or expecting Veryan to be right at his shoulder. He had loved this city with all his heart; she had been what had made him stand strong even when he had felt he'd break under the strain and yet… he had given her all he could. From the time he had turned sixteen the duty to her had been an iron weight upon his shoulders, supporting the failing rule of his father, fighting the war. Twenty five years, and now she was save and in the hands of one who would heal her. Like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, a duty that had always threatened to crush him lifted. Boromir smiled and raised his hand in goodbye, saying that the white city was no longer his city, no longer his home did not hurt.

Hooves approached from the side and he saw Kili approach him astride his white pony. "Ready to move out?" he asked, his voice indicating understanding if Boromir needed time.

"Ready," Boromir turned his horse following Kili as they galloped past the marchers to the head of the column. No need for time and no regrets, no second thoughts. He was free and they were going to reclaim the greatest kingdom of middle-earth. He would not have it any other way. As their horses sped towards the dwarven road, the Gondorian laughed.

One warm summer night, he rode out of sight

On a wild mare that was so perfectly white
I'd dreamed I'd go with him and I was right
Wishes can come true when you wish with all your might

(Blackmore's Night: The peasant's promise)

Finis.

Author's notes

I want to thank all those who read, reviewed and enjoyed this story. Your support helped me a lot to write this story at the speed it happened. I want to thank Harrylee94 again for support, help, plot bunny exchanges and so much betaing.

I will not talk about sequels and other stories here too much, because way too many plot bunnies are hopping about my poor desk. They range from crossover suggestions, to actually getting the Hero of this story involved in the Hobbit quest. (Yes, that sounds crazy but a dear friend is nicely petting that bunny.). So… I need time to figure out what comes next.

THANKS to you all. You are awesome.