Elendra and Faramir finally reached the city of ruin that was Osgiliath.

One man at his post on the West side of Osgiliath on a barely there look out tower shouted that Faramir had returned.

Movement and shouting could be heard from outside the fallen/falling structures.

Men rushed to the two rangers to help them with their horses. Faramir hopped off of his horse first then went to Elendra to help her down from Nyx as a force of habit when in a woman's presence. He caught himself before extending his hand, becoming aware that he probably looked strange as he suddenly walked up to Nyx for what looked like no reason.

Elendra gave him a strange look and continued to dismount Nyx. Some men eagerly gathered around them, others remained at their posts or were transporting materials from one pile of bricks to the other.

Her black mare garnered some attention. Of the black horses left in Middle Earth the majority were servants of Mordor; Rohan kept not even a handful amongst their own. Nyx was one of those poor ostracized creatures that Elendra connected with.

Faramir spoke to the man who was left in charge of the soldiers within with a grim tone. No doubt he had questions about the stranger dressed in weathered clothes who arrived with Faramir. From her lack of bright green and tan leather on her person, she was definitely not an Ithilien Ranger.

Elendra ignored his and everyone else's stares and grabbed her necessities (knives, forest drinking water, etc.) from Nyx's saddlebags before they took her settle in with her brethren. She spoke to her horse in Elvish, reminding her of the 'safe' space that they are in but nevertheless to stay alert.

Now there was more chatter among the lingering soldiers about her. Perhaps this was an Elf? What would an Elf be doing in Osgiliath? Did Faramir come with their aid? Was there a bigger battle coming their way?

Faramir looked around and reminded the men of their duties to send them away.

"Let us speak somewhere more private," he said to the man and signaled Elendra to follow.

Walking through the city was even more nerve wracking. Elendra stepped as lightly as she could and kept her hands to herself in fear of starting an avalanche of brick and Man.

Faramir looked back at her as they stepped through broken corridors and noticed her extreme caution and tense figure. He could not help but let out a small laugh. As quiet and cool as she was, in that moment she looked like a curious and innocent pup.

"These walls are sturdier than they look," he said to her in a louder tone, trying to speak over the noise of shouting commands from other soldiers.

She looked up at him, embarrassed, and scurried along through a wide set of doors into a not-so-private room, but a room nonetheless.

"Madril, this is Elendra," Faramir said to the man. "She was the one who bore the news of Boromir to me. Elendra, this Madril. He is second-in-command and aids me in overseeing the duties of Osgiliath and Ithilien."

Madril raised an eyebrow in interest when Faramir said 'she.' Elendra hesitantly pulled her hood back to reveal her face. "Hello," she said. He scanned her face and gave her a sad smile, "It is a pleasure to meet you, though I do wish the circumstances were a bit different."

Although she had expected a different response, she nodded her head slightly.

"She has another message for my father from Rivendell. The free people need to mobilize against Mordor," Faramir explained. Madril let out a deep breath from his nose as if he had been holding his breath until this moment.

"And you think your father will want to listen to anyone after you tell him about Boromir?" Madril asked.

Faramir didn't say anything to that. He turned to Elendra with his arms crossed.

"We'll head to the city at dawn. I have some things to settle here," he said to her before walking out of the room with a pensive look.

Madril took Elendra around the western part of the city, since the eastern part had fallen into the hands of the orcs a while back. Although she did get stared at as she strolled around, they weren't looks of discomfort or confusion; there were more of interest and curiosity.

From what she had gathered from her walk with Madril, the soldiers of Gondor were not as they were expected to be. Even the Rohirrim had more life in them than these soldiers. Perhaps being this close to Mordor takes a toll on morale.

Somehow, Elendra had become convinced that being a part of a large group of people such as a tribe of very similar people, all from the same background, was correlated with the mundaneness that is commonly found among the world of Man.

Walking among them convinced her of that more but she had to catch herself. She had spent too much time with elves and forest folk. They were not the most rude beings but they certainly have many (unfortunate) things to say about Men.

In her time of travel, their words turned out to be true: the realm of Gondor was corrupt, close-mind, and selfish. It had been over 15 years since she had last visited this realm; it was a very brief visit.

Madril escorted her over to an area where some soldiers gathered on their breaks. A fire pit was lit with a cauldron hanging over it. Under the cover of night, it was a small yet strong light source for the men.

Elendra was invited for a cup of broth and a conversation.

"Don't worry, we don't bite," said one soldier after taking notice of her reluctance, "Well, at least most of us don't," he continued with a short laughter from the men joining in.

She graciously took the shoddy wooden cup and joined them, sitting next to Madril who leaned on a broken piece of wall already downing his portion.

"So…," began a soldier sitting across from Elendra, "what is an elf doing in a ruined city alongside a son of Gondor?"

Elendra looked at him with a blank stare. "Elf? I am not an elf."

A couple of men had a sudden look of realization as if they had been wondering that since their arrival.

"Then surely you must have been brought up by elves. Apart from your elvish words you walk with the elegance of the elves and bear a resemblance to their kind."

"Reminds me of those wood-elves," another one said.

"She would have come from that far?"

"Didn't Captain Boromir go that far? To the elvish realms?"

"He was sent to Rivendell, which is to the west of Mirkwood, over the Misty Mountains."

"Did you run into him, milady?"

Elendra watched as their conversation steered elsewhere and didn't answer. They took that as a no, thankfully. They probably thought she wouldn't know what he would look like let alone know him. She hadn't the guts to tell them of Boromir.

"He is special, that one. Just like his brother."

"Yes, true heroes of Gondor."

"Captain Boromir and Faramir led us well in securing this part of the city from the orcs. Under their leadership, great things are surely in store for us."

"I do wonder when Captain Boromir will return. I'm sure the elves don't have great meade like we do."

The men laughed, happily reminiscing about their captain. Elendra's soup suddenly lost its flavor.

Other than Elendra and Faramir, Madril was the only one who knew. He sat with an empty cup and glanced over at Elendra who managed to avoid answering their questions.

Madril looked up from her to someone behind her who then sat down next to Elendra.

It was Faramir. He let out a sigh of relief as he finally sat down after a long day of riding. He and Elendra locked eyes, both of them empty, then he looked at her less than half finished cup of soup. He took it from her, somehow knowing she had lost her appetite.

She was taken aback by his gesture; it was something Boromir did when they were on their way to Rivendell when she was anxious. He specifically did it on one of their last nights in Rivendell before the fellowship left.

Boromir knew Elendra was scared for him because of the way he reacted at the council but he had reassured her that he would follow Frodo anywhere if that is what must be done; that she had nothing to worry about concerning the ring's influence.

Faramir had no appetite for food either but he nonetheless drank the soup. He had decided to wait to tell his father until he let everyone else know. Right now, he thought, let them remember Boromir as he was: alive.

"Oh, you still haven't told us where you are from," one of the men said to Elendra.

Elendra snapped out of her thoughts and answered without thinking, "Ah, Eriador."

"Eriador?!"

She nodded her head with a blank look. One man scanned her up and down. "I've heard stories; those of Men from the North clad, grimly, in dark green cloaks, descendants of the Dúnedain, you know: royal folk."

Some men began to whisper amongst themselves. The night had settled in along with a sharp cold wind.

"Grimly? Do I really look so bad?" she said garnering a laugh from the group. He reassured her he didn't mean it that way. She gave the man a smile; Faramir saw her and almost choked on his soup.

Another younger boy joined in, "So, you must be blessed with long life then, like the sons of the steward. That's what the stories say of Dúnedain descendants."

Elendra didn't give a hint of reaction. It would be awkward to relay her age to these young men. They looked older than her but she was definitely older than them or equaling their age.

"Alright," interrupted Faramir, "let's not presume to ask someone their age when you've barely met them. We need our rest. Men, back to your posts."

After a short session of roasting Faramir for being a party pooper, the men gave in and left wishing them a goodnight.

She was honestly surprised at their hospitality. Faramir was right: they were very welcoming.