1Anathen awoke in a cold sweat. Another dream! These endless nights of dreams, how could she escape? Anathen was a servant for the Lord Denethor at Minis Tirith, the city of Kings. Anathen had lived in Minis Tirith all her life. When she was young,
Denethor sent her parents to be killed after they had "committed" a crime. They were wrongly accused. Denethor took Anathen for his own, to be his servant. Anathen could've stayed with her uncle, and her uncle's friend, Eliador. Anathen loved Eliador, but Eliador loved an elvish woman, far away.
Anathen sighed, recalling the dream. She was chasing her parents down a long hall, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't catch up. It was the same dream every night. Anathen sighed, recalling her past. She looked out the window.
It was almost midday! Denethor needed lunch. Anathen got up, and into her clothes. Although she had a nice room, she still hated being in Denethor's keep. Anathen walked out of the room, locking the door. She slipped the keys in her pocket.
Celethrain, her dear friend, walked up to her. He was in a panic. He grabbed her arm.
"Where are you going?" He said, flushed.
"Denethor needs lunch."
"Oh, no. No. You cannot go in there. Denethor is grieving right now."
"Grieving? Over what?"
Celethrain sighed. "Boromir, his son, is dead! Faramir returned, with the news. Denethor sent him away, and where Faramir is, I do not know. But the point is, Boromir is dead, and Denethor cannot bear to see anyone."
"How can he be...dead?"
Celethrain looked around. "Orcs shot him. And that's not the last we'll see of 'em. I heard that Denethor has foreseen a great war. Many, thousands of orcs. But, it's just what I heard. Excuse me, my dear Anathen, but I must leave."
Celethrain walked away, hurried.
Anathen felt bad about Denethor's loss..Boromir had always been kind. A brave solider of Gondor.