A/N: The last one! I want to thank all the peeps who have read and reviewed; Emmithar, SperryDee, JeanB, Nerwen Calaelen, acacea, ThE iNsAnE oNe, Caroly, Carrie S, Elven Kitten, The Oboist's Apprentice, lotrobsession (that's entdraught) and any other I have forgotten. I am away from January 2nd till March 2nd to Toronto (here I come jetlag!), so that time is also a little writing break for me. Although I will try reading some fic here and leave behind a review of my own.

I am glad you enjoyed reading this and I hope I can just make 100 reviews, that would be a very nice Christmas gift (a bit late…but no problem :) ).

There are some vague ideas for another (short) story, so don't forget about me!

As a closing note: These characters are not mine, and '***' is a little timejump.

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Epilogue.

"Bor…?"

"Hmm?"

"Just how mad was father when you left?"

Boromir looked sideways at his little brother and noticed he looked a bit pale.

As it was, the two man were just a few days away from Minas Tirith. They had found one of the horses and had strapped their packs on its back, sometimes they took turns riding. Both were glad to be in familiar surroundings again.

At least, Boromir was glad, he wasn't so sure about Faramir. The elder Gondorian knew how much his brother had wanted to stay with Orophin and learn all there was to learn about elves. It was also a chance to avoid their father, although Faramir would not admit that.

"Boromir?"

"Oh yes, well…he wasn't what I would call mad, maybe a bit angry, but in a concerned way! You know, not red-head angry, but talking-more-loudly-than-normal angry, just…well…and I think he is more angry with me than he is with you! I lied to him when he asked me if I knew where you were. So, really…"

Faramir groaned and shook his head.

"He is furious! You know that his talking-more-loudly-than-normal anger will quickly turn into red-head anger which will turn into long lapses of silence with the occasional frosty-disapproving glance."

"Look, Faramir. I don't care what father thinks and you should not either. Know that I am very proud of you. You are my dearest brother-"

"…your only brother," injected Faramir. Boromir just continued as if he didn't hear him.

"And you should know that I love you. The people love you as well…Griffon loves you!"

"Griffon…the stablemaster? He is always muttering about me not being careful enough with myself and his precious horses."

"That proves it little brother," said Boromir, "more people like and love you than you know. It's the same with father, I know he loves you, so just stop worrying."

Faramir sighed and wished his brother was right, although he had a hard time believing it.

***

"Home at last," mumbled the dark-haired young man as he dropped down on his bed. His head still reeling from the warm home coming.

A lot of the servants, soldiers and inhabitants of Minas Tirith had been waiting for their return so it was obvious that news of their arrival had been send forward. Both brothers were struck dumb when the great gate opened and the whole courtyard had been filled with people. A cheer had risen, that gradually lessened as they came to the higher levels of the city.

The only one absent was the Steward.

This did not come as a real surprise for Faramir and in secret he was glad for the delayed confrontation. Suddenly his door swung open and the confrontation was no longer delayed.

Faramir jumped up in order to bow and stumbled a bit with fatigue. His father was standing just a few feet away from him with an unreadable expression. The silence was stiffening.

The flurry of robes approached the young man again and something unexpected happened. He felt himself being enveloped in a hug, a lose and quick one, but still a hug. Then the moment was over and he was again scrutinised with grey eyes.

"I expect you to resume your training with the soldiers. Do not run of again, lest Boromir has to retrieve you again from where ever you were."

"In Lothlórien, father," Faramir almost whispered. "I was with the elves."

It wasn't his imagination when he saw Denethor's eyes widen.

"Lothlórien you say? And they did not harm you?"

"No father, they were very kind to me." The younger man chose to keep the part of his injured shoulder and sickness silent.

"Very kind you say? Well, no matter, you are home again and I expect you to stay here for a while."

Denethor then turned toward the door again, but turned on the doorstep. His glance swept over Faramir's body and he sighed.

"Go see a healer my son." Then he was gone.

Faramir just stared at the open door, not quite believing what he had just heard. It had actually sounded like concern. A stupid grin appeared on his face and he reached in his pack. He pulled out a long bundle and he unwrapped it. A straight, long, white-fledged arrow was revealed.

"Yes," he softly said, "maybe it is good to be home."

***

At the same time, a silver-haired elf was gazing at his beloved home. His time with the young man would not be forgotten and his curiosity was stirred; what would Gondor be like, or a Men city? Would he be able to visit it sometimes?

His pondering was interrupted by a shout as his two brothers spotted him. He waved and waited for them to come up.

Before his brothers arrived, Orophin looked to the south-east with a small smile.

"It is good to be home."

The End.

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A/N: Oh yeah…Italics are Sindarin *g*

Thank you again for reading and a Happy Newyear!