[Please read the Author's Note to follow at the end of this chapter.]

Prologue

The night was unusually calm, and the stars adorned the heavens, brightly twinkling in a way that belied the war and destruction that their light shone upon. A lone captain stood among the ruins of a once great city, not as a guard or night watchman, but as a man pondering deep inner thoughts. Again the dream had come:

Seek for the Sword that was broken:

In Imladris it dwells;

There shall be counsels taken

Stronger than Morgul-spells.

There shall be shown a token

That Doom is near at hand,

For Isildur's Bane shall waken,

And the Halfling forth shall stand.

This time however he did not awake with a start, and so heard more of the haunting words:

Princesses four shall come by spell:

One born in a warrior's hall,

Two from the fjord of Arendelle,

Another, a prison made of stone.

Their task shall fill the empty throne.

Ainu binds them to the fate of all,

And ere the deed is done,

The Doom of all may yet be overcome.

Where before the words had only confounded his mind, this new part gripped his very heart — with fear or curious yearning, he knew not. He had yet to speak of this, for whom would believe the truth of such a dream. His father surely would deem it a folly. Perhaps Boromir might consider it an omen, a warning.

As the stars began to fade into the pale light of a new day, movement drew the Captain's gaze. Swiftly drawing a long dagger from his boot, he moved with a panther-like stealth towards it. As he came closer, the form took the shape of a small figure, lying prone on a broken slab of crumbling marble. Seeing no more movement, he pause, pondering if to move forward and inspect the body.

Returning his dagger to its place, and drawing himself up to his full height, Faramir, younger son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor, gently turned over the figure. The first thing he notices was the hair, much too long for any man, and the figure was so slight, almost like a doll. Clearing away tendrils from her face, he was struck with a sense of awe. Her features where so pure, etherial even, but as he gently raised her head, he felt a roundness to her ears. How could one of such beauty be not of the Eldar?

Ascertaining that her unconsciousness was not due to some physical wound, he gathered the young maiden in his arms, hurriedly moving to his tent, cautious not to jostle her body too much. Once she was carefully laid upon his meager cot and bed-roll, he set out for his brother's tent, not far, hoping that he had not yet arisen and taken counsel with the other officers and rangers of their battered company.

Boromir was in-fact awake when he arrived, but his brother seemed to be brooding over a matter of import and did not notice Faramir's entrance.

"Brother."

Turning to face his younger sibling, Boromir gave a drawn smile that held no joy.

"Is it time yet for counsel?"

"Not yet. There is another matter I must speak with you about. One of great importance."

Boromir stood and approached his brother, his face shifting from brother to commander at the tone in Faramir's voice.

"It is a delicate matter of which I must ask your help with. Last night I had a dream, a strange dream which was not unfamiliar to me. The words of the dream unsettled my mind, and when I awoke, I wandered for a time, contemplating their meaning."

His brother looked confused. "What use am I in the divining of dreams?"

Faramir shook his head, "It is not the dream that I seek your counsel on, but rather what the dream lead me to discover. As I wandered, I came across a lone figure unconscious among the ruins, and have sequestered them in my tent, while I beg your help."

"Whom is this person?"

"I know not. But brother… they are like no one I have ever seen."

"What manner of being are they?"

"By all appearances… she is a mortal woman—"

"A woman, here on the battlefield ruins of a long abandoned city?"

"It is a mystery to me as well, which is why I have come to you for guidance. What shall we do with her?"

Boromir was silent for a time, pacing as he thought. Finally he spoke, not as a brother, but as a leader. "Take me to her."

Faramir's tent was not far, and with the dawn not yet cresting the plains, the men had not yet arisen. Boromir entered first, and stopped short upon the sight of her. His fascination was not as strongly felt as his brother at the sight of the woman before them, but it was enough to give him pause.

"How can she be untouched? In this of all places?"

"I know not." Faramir went to her side, and took her delicate hand in his more calloused grip. She shifted in her torpid slumber, curling her frame closer to his, as a moth drawn to a warm flame.

"Whatever fate brought her here, it seems that it was meant for you to find her." His brother said, in a partially joking manner. Faramir tensed at the words, reminded again of his dream.

"Fate it may be indeed, brother. I feel she is important somehow."

"Do you speak as one beguiled by a pretty maiden, brother?"

Faramir turned sharply, displeasure etched into his fair features.

"I feel she is linked with the words from my dream."

Boromir did not scoff at this, rather asked for Faramir to recount the dream. After the haunting words were told, both brothers turned their eyes unconsciously towards the figure before them.

"I would in the past, brother, have said that such beliefs were for old men and naïve maids. Yet there is a ring of truth in it."

Faramir nodded, thinking of what the second verse could mean.

"Whom's counsel can we seek on this matter? Surely not father, for he would either seek to use her, if she is fated to restore our realm, or imprison her should she be found lacking in use."

Boromir said nothing to the remarks his brother made of their father, the Steward, knowing he was correct, however much he wishes not to acknowledge it.

"Perhaps Mithrandir? He is learned in lore and spell-craft."

"But how shall we bring her to Minas Tirith, unknown to our father?"

Boromir pause, then gave a small smirk. "Father would not notice a wounded soldier, when we his sons return unharmed. There must be a set of armour that will conceal her enough to pass unnoticed on a cart."

Faramir glanced back at her prone form and then nodded. As quickly and quietly as two warriors could, the brothers gathered together the pieces for the necessary disguise. Once everything was within Faramir's tent, there was a moment of hesitation. Compared to the task ahead, gathering battle armor in secret was child's play.

"Well brother, since you found her, I think you should be the one to dress her. You have a gentler hand than I."

"Don't you mean a purer heart and mind?"

Boromir laughed, "You know me too well brother. I shall leave you to this task, for there will be less suspicion with only one of us unaccounted for. I will begin the preparation for the return to the citadel."

The young captain gazed into the peaceful face of the woman laid out upon his bed-roll. Her small hands clutched at his cloak which he had lain over her, to shield her some from the chill of morning. Without startling movements, Faramir maneuvered her to a position where she lay half in his arms, with her lower body still on the bed. His hand gently brushed her cheek, and she nuzzled towards his touch. In that moment, Faramir felt something he had not felt for another woman, since the passing of his mother. A desire to care for and protect.

Dressing her in the livery of one of the men under his personal command, Faramir took notice of two things about her. Firstly, she wore no type of footwear, yet her feet looked clean and had none of the cuts or wounds that would be expected if a person was to walk barefoot through a destroyed city. He spent a few minutes turning them over, in his hands. They were so tiny and perfect.

Shaking that thought from his head, Faramir began to assess the next issue of this charade — her hair. The blonde locks shone brightly, glistening like clear water on a bright summer day. The only way to hide it was to plait it intricately enough to manageably conceal it in the armour. He had not braided another person's hair, since his mother. She had let him come to her when he awoke from a bad dream, and would sing to him, and let him brush and plait her hair.

It took close to a half hour to completely plait the woman's hair and hid it within the hood of the cloak he had wrapped around her. It relaxed him, once he remember how to twist and shape hair into a passable form. When that was done, Faramir just sat beside her and waited for his brother to return. Seeing her in the livery of a Ranger of Ithilian, did not diminish her beauty, but rather accented her willowy form and etherial looks, and his heart beat just a bit faster as he continued to gaze upon her.

Shaking the pleasant images of her from his head, he stood and paced closer to the entrance of his small tent. Where was Boromir?

No sooner has Faramir thought it, than the flap to his tent was pushed back and in came said brother, bringing with him a water skin and loaf of bread.

"I see you had this situation well in hand, little brother." Boromir smirked, as his eyes glanced over the young woman's form in Ranger garb.

Faramir felt a twinge of anger rise up in him, something he had never felt towards his brother. Why would a simple quip and glance at a woman would cause such a reaction? Taking a breath, he took what his brother offered and sat down on the cot, facing outward.

Boromir did not see the quick change in his brother, and continued talking.

"The cart is all prepared and we ride for Minas Tirith within the hour. I suggest we hurry before the rest of the company is assembled."

Faramir nodded and hurriedly finished his small meal. Together they were able to maneuver her into the makeshift wounded cart, and it was decided that Faramir would ride close to the cart, while Boromir lead their company. Denethor would find no suspicion with this, since all his focus would be upon the triumph of his eldest son. To the Rangers under Faramir's company, it had been circulated that this soldier had saved Faramir's life, hence his interest in their safe return. No questions would be ask, for all the men where loyal to the Captains of the White City.

The joinery back to Minas Tirith was uneventful. The sky was clear and the clouds billowed; the shadow of Mordor was not so strongly felt over the land of Gondor that day. It was nightfall when the company of men reached the main gates to the citadel, and they passed through the lower gates with very little attention. Faramir directed the men to take the cart carrying the disguised woman, as well as the other wounded carts to the Houses of Healing, in the sixth level of the city.

Once his horse was given into the care of the stable-hands, Faramir sought out Ioreth, for she had on more than one occasion helped in tending to his wounds and other ailments when his father has not dained to acknowledge the suffering of his younger son. She was working in the main garden, tending to the various herbs and plants used in the healing of patients.

Since she was along, Faramir quickly explained to her the sudden appearance of the mysterious woman, and his subterfuge in getting her into the city.

"What would you have me do with such a woman?" Ioreth exclaimed with mock indignation.

"I simply wish for you to help me hid her in my mother's rooms. I do not wish for my father to trap her in his schemes for power and control."

"I will do as you ask."

Faramir thanked her heartily, glad that the woman would be safe from his father. He now headed to his quarters, on the side of the palace which his father never ventured. He had specifically asked for her to be brought to his mother's room, for that was one of the few places in the city that no one, not even Denethor, Steward of Gondor ventured. His rooms where situated beside his mother's, with door that linked the two.

Once he had stripped himself of this dust-laden armour and robes, Faramir sent word to his brother to meet him, which he was sure it would be several hours yet before his brother would arrive. Their father would have much to discuss with his favored son.

A soft knocking came from the door that joined his room with the next, and he hurried over to it, lifting the tapestry that mostly concealed it from common view.

The rooms where that same as the day his mother had died, Faramir maintained them himself, keeping dust and age from tarnishing the last piece of the woman he had lost. Upon the bed, she lay. Moving the thick curtains from the windows and gently opening them, Faramir busied himself with readying the room for its first inhabitant in over two decades.

He lit no candle, for the stars again where not veiled again this night. Their soft light flooded the room, bathing her delicate features. For a moment, Faramir stood in awe of her, his heart quickening within his chest. There was no chair beside the bed, and so he sat down gently on the edge, hesitantly reaching out to clasp one of her hands in his.

It was then that he noticed Ioreth had stripped her of the Ranger garb that she had been dressed in. Now she wore a simple blue shift, and her hair lay unbound, fanned out around her to form a halo of liquid gold. Like earlier, she moved closer to him, sensing his presence even in her deep slumber.

And so Faramir, younger son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor, watched over his fair maiden, well into the early hours of the morn'.

It was midmorning when Boromir knocked on the door to his brother's chambers for the third time. It was unusual for his brother to be abed this late, even after a long day of fighting. Finding the door unlock, he entered to find an empty room. Glancing around, he notice that tapestry that cover the entrance to their mother's rooms was pulled back and the door slightly afar.

Smiling lightly, he made his way for the first time in year, into his mother's chambers. The sight that greeted him cause his smile to spread into a wide smirk. Upon the bed, lay Faramir with his maiden cuddling close to him, his arms wrapped protectively around her — both sound asleep. He stood there for several moment, taking in this innocent picture of happiness. Boromir would never let his younger brother live this down.

Clearing his throat just loudly enough to awaken the Ranger, he crossed his arms and assumed a stern posture. At first when Faramir opened his eyes, he seemed confused. This was not his room, and why was his brother standing over him? Moving to sit up, his hands come in contact with something that was warm, and firm. Looking down sharply, he saw that this was not intact his room. Nor his bed.

He flushed and hastily removed himself from the bed, and the surprisingly firm clasp of her. A glance at Boromir revealed his brother shaking in mirth. He was glad someone was finding this funny, although he was sure he would never hear the end of it.

Boromir motioned for his brother to join him back in the other room, and with one last look, after straightening the bedclothes snuggly around the sleeping maiden, Faramir left his mothe— her chambers.

Once inside his chambers, Faramir set out in readying himself for what was left of the morning. Anything to avoid the smug gaze of his brother. But alas, there is only so much on can do to involving the robbing of ones body.

In a futile attempt at misdirection Faramir asked his brother of the meeting with their father the previous day.

"Father was as intense as ever. First he boasted to the lords of the might of his son, Boromir. Then he wished to know every detail of our stand, and then continued it by planning our next incursion to maintain the front at Osgiliath, with re-enforcements patrolling the surrounding lands of Ithilian. I tried to mention that your suggestions regarding the places which would need the most troops, since they are your men, but he was only concerned with the front and our hold over the river Anduin."

"He is the Steward…"

"And you are as much his son as I am! I may be Captain of the Guard, but you are so much more than simple Captain of the Rangers. The council respects and listens to you, and your political skills rival that of Father's. You are learned in the histories and laws of our land and you command the respect of all who serve under you."

Faramir was taken aback by his brother fervent defense of his worth and character. The meeting with the Steward must have been harsher than Boromir let on to him.

"Thank you, brother."

For a few minutes both men where silent, unsure of where to go from this point in their conversation. At last, Boromir sighed and sank down into one of the chairs in his brother's study.

"Perhaps we should be discussing a more pleasant subject, such as your rather fetching bed fellow…"

No sooner where the words out of Boromir's mouth, than he instantly regretted them. Hurt and anger where visible on his brother's feature.

"I'm sorry brother, I meant it in jest only."

Faramir took a second to clear his feature, walking to the terrace the allowed him a view of the citadel below, and the lands of Gondor beyond that.

Boromir joined his brother after a few moments, their gazes resting on the darkness across the plains, the darkness of Mordor.

"I know you care for her. She needs a protector, a champion, and there is no one I feel who would be better in all the realms for this task than you, Faramir."

"I don't even know her name."

"A name does not change how you feel about her, does it? I see how you have looked at her, don't deny it. Even I can sense she is special, and I am not always the most sensitive of men."

Faramir chuckled. "Nay brother, sensitive no. But popular among the ladies of the court, you are."

"If by popular, you mean pleasing to the eyes, accomplished in battle, and eldest son of a power man — that is all these so called ladies prize in a man. I would sooner court an orc then dain to connect myself to such shrewd and politically minded women."

Faramir knew all too well that under their beautiful facade, most of the daughters, wives and widows of the Gondorian nobles hid a darker, power hungry side. Growing up as the elder son, Boromir had been subjected to this more than himself, for the lesser favored son of the Steward was more likely to be found in the hall of ancient manuscripts and records, than attending social functions organized by his father.

Boromir bore the brunt of such attention well, for he focused on his duties to the realm, serving as chief protector and loyal soldier. Thus he was more occupied with war than love.

Neither men where of an age where marriage was chiefly expected, and with Gondor at the front of Sauron's oppression of the free peoples of Middle Earth, a wife and warm bed seems laughable as high priorities. Growing up, they had pictured the ideal wife as someone like their mother — strong in self, independent, loyal and very loving.

Boromir silently wished his brother would find the happiness he deserved, in the woman fate had brought to him. A happiness that he himself expected to never find. No, he would die a warriors death, in battle defending those under his protection till his last breath.

A knock at the chamber door signaled the arrival of a servant, probably with the mid-day meal. Food would do Faramir good, ground his throughs and mind, while strengthening his body. Boromir took his brother by the shoulder and led him towards the tray that had been lain on his small desk. Faramir ate in silence, still distracted by a thought in his mind. Would she be any different? Will she need him and care for him, as he already needed and cared for her?

Faramir thought he was being too whimsical in this, how could he have come to care for her in such a short amount of time, and yet still not know her. It wasn't rational, or even explainable, but her sudden appearance had captivated him to the core. There was a muffled noise, that seemed out of place. It took him a moment to realize it had not come from his chamber, nor from outside in the hall, or even from the city.

His eyes shot to the door, her door. Before his mind even registered it, his body moved with a purpose through the hidden door, and into the next room. His breath stopped short at the vision before him.

She was half sitting up, her arms stretched high over her head, eyes closed with a look of perfect contentment. Every so slowly she opened her eyes, her gaze holding Faramir rooted to her spot.

Her face held no fear or shock, only confusion — as if she has not yet figured out where she was.

"You are a nice dream." Her voice was soft, still laden with sleep. Closing her eyes firmly shut, she concentrated as if she was trying to force herself awake. He couldn't help but notice how adorable it was when her nose scrunched up, too amused yet to speak.

She opened her eyes again after a moment. Confusion spread over her features and clouded her bright green eyes. Stepping forward smoothly, Faramir sat down next to her on the bed, a respectful distance for her own comfort.

"I can assure you, fair maiden, I am no dream." Rather it is you who is the vision. His inner thoughts would be the death of him in regard to her — he just knew it.

They stared at each other intently for a moment, then fear sparked in her eyes, and she shrank back from him.

"You have to go, Mother will be here soon. Really you must go." She began to frantically look around, as if expecting this person, her mother to swoop in like a fearsome bird of prey, to devour him.

It touched him that in her confusion, it was his safety she was concerned more for, not herself. What confused him was her mention that the person she feared was her mother.

"I can assure you, my lady, that your mother cannot harm anyone here."

"No, you don't understand, she has powers… if she finds you here, I don't know what will happen."

Powers. Faramir paused for a moment at the mention. Could these powers be the reason for her sudden and mysterious appearance?

Before Faramir could continue his reassurances that all would in fact be well, Boromir stepped through the door. He assumed that his brother had been listening from the doorway, giving him space and time with the newly awakened woman. She was so fixed on him, that Boromir's voice made her jump and cower behind Faramir's frame.

"Your mother is not here."

The woman looked at the new addition to the room in shock, and then slowly, the fear gave way to a tentative confusion. Looking around the room again, her face showed the shift in her mind, as it slowly registered that this was in-fact, not her room.

"Where am I?" She was watching Faramir intently, shifting minutely closer to him.

"You are in the city of Minas Tirith, of the realm of Gondor." She showed no recognition of the name of the city nor the realm. Faramir glanced to his brother quickly before continuing. "You where discovered unconscious in the ruins of Osgiliath, on the western bank of the river Anduin.

Still she did not react; instead she seemed to be more fixated on studying his features — as if she has never seen a man before.

"Who are you?" She finally said.

"Faramir, son of Denethor. This is my older brother, Boromir."

She smiled at him, and so breathtaking was it that for a moment he simply stared at her, transfixed. Thankfully Boromir perceived his mental paralysis, and so asked the question Faramir has been so direly wishing to know since he first laid eyes on her.

"Might we know your name, and where you hail from, in return, lady?"

Blinking, she tore her eyes from Faramir' intense gaze, blushing slightly. "Rapunzel."

[Theme: Where There's Light, There's Hope — The London Studio Orchestra (The Two Towers)]

It was evening, and Rapunzel was leaning over the balcony rail of the room she had been staying in for the past two days. It was a beautiful room, much larger than her own, but then living in a tower was small, compared to the city that stretched out below her. Seven levels, Faramir had told her, of homes and families. So many people, surrounding her, yet here she was, safely hidden from them all.

Figures milled around the pathway below her, a man and woman, walking a dog. To be free was something she had always longed for, but now, in this strange new place, it was more a comfort to her to be incased in a stone room.

The two men, whom she was slowly getting acquainted with where very polite and well mannered. The younger one, Faramir was more than willing to talk with her about the city, and it's people… his people. Boromir, was more of a silent type, it took several tries for her to engage him in any conversation. But she like them, well enough, for the first people that she had ever know outside of her mother.

Her hair was free flowing today, the wind catching some of it and blowing over the balcony ledge. The sun had come out today, bring with it a warmth that reminded her of home, yet her heart did not ache for it as she thought she would.

Footsteps behind her alerted her to the presence of either brother. She did not move, simply turned her gaze to the mountains across the great expanse of land outside the gates of the city. They where dark and storm clouds seemed to grow from there, as if seeking to envelope the rest of the sky in a dark swell of depression. Her body shivered at the thought of such a world, and then warmth enveloped her as a thick cloak was wrapped around her shoulders.

Smiling to herself at the gesture, Rapunzel turned to face her kind benefactor — Faramir.

"You should not be out without a cloak on, my lady, no matter if the sun is shinning… nor shoes for that matter."

The last part of his little speech was teasing, for he knew she was not yet used to wearing such things.

"Then I am in your debt, my lord, for you have taken good care of me." Rapunzel had learned that teasing lightly was acceptable with the younger of the brothers, and it was now something she did most frequently, though more often than not, she ended up blushing at her words.

Gazing at the cloak wrapped around her, she was amazed to find it very elegant and made for a womanly form. It was a dark blue, with silver stars sewn into it. Faramir must have noticed her expression of awe, and thus sheepishly explained.

"The cloak belonged to my mother, and finds no use folded away in a chest, when you have none." He paused and for a second, Rapunzel saw something flicker in his eyes which she could not name. "It looks very well upon you."

"This was your mothers?"

"Aye, a gift from her father, upon the birth of my brother."

"I cannot accept such a gift." She had begun to remove the cloak from her shoulders, when Faramir clasped hers firmly, thus stilling her movements.

"She would not want such things to go to waste unused and gather dust when there is a maiden in need. She was very kind, to all around her. It is no trouble. Please, keep it."

His words warmed her heart, yet she did not know why. This man, her friend, cause such reactions in her, that she did not know what to make of it. But it was pleasant indeed that he cared for her.

"What has detained you so long this day, for it is past the mid-day mark, and you are late in your arrival."

They both moved into the room, situating themselves unto a sofa with a table before it, laden with food and drink.

"My father requested the presence of myself and my brother. It has been decided that Boromir will travel to Imladris to seek out the meaning of our shared dream. Boromir is making preparations as we speak, and he will be leaving within the fortnight."

"How long will he be gone?"

"Who is to say, it is several weeks ride to the Hidden city of the Elves, perhaps even a few months."

"Will you miss him greatly?"

Having never had siblings or even other people around, Rapunzel was always curious of the interactions between the brothers.

Faramir nodded his head. "I shall fear for him, for the way is perilous in these troubling times. It should be I that go, for Boromir is the better Captain and commander. But father wishes to send only the best, his best—"

"Don't put yourself down, your father simply is a proud man, who sees himself more strongly in one son, than in another."

Faramir gave a weak smile and turned away.

"With your brother gone, will you be devoting more of your time to military matters, and forget about me?"

I could never forget about you. "I would make sure that my duties would allow me time to have our afternoon lunch-ins and evening conversations. On that matter, in fact, I have somewhere I would like to take you, but we must wait 'til this evening."

A knock on the door broke the precious moment that had been forming between the two, and then Boromir entered the chamber, a grave expression on his face. He walked heavily into the room, and sank exhausted into the empty chair by the sofa. Both parties expressed pleasantries and waited for the third to respond in kind.

"Father wishes to see you, I have tried to talk to him and lessen his anger, but you must go to him as you can." Both Faramir and Rapunzel immediately tensed, thinking the worse, but Boromir's next words alleviated that emotion.

"I have told him not of her; nor the second half of the dream, which I remind you, I never had."

Faramir looked a little sheepish at his brothers consternation, his brother had never broken his confidence before, why judge him now?

Both had explained to Rapunzel, the dream that first Faramir, and then later Boromir, had. She was no more help than they at discerning the meaning of it. It had been agreed that along with hiding her from their father, that the second part of the vision, which only came to Faramir, was to be unmentioned as well.

"I should go," Faramir said mournfully, not knowing how long this ordeal with their father would take, for he had hoped to show Rapunzel his mother's garden later that evening, as a sort of escape from the confines of her bedchamber.

Seeing his brother's pained expression, Boromir offered, "I shall stay with her brother, for I wish to think on happier things, and the maid has a pre-chant to calm any mood. I dare say she could even calm a fire-drake."

Know that his, no the lady was in safe with his brother, Faramir departed swiftly but with a heavy heart.

Boromir smiled kindly at Rapunzel, "Fair maiden, while my company is not that which you seek foremost, would I be right in saying you would not be opposed to a little adventure within these walls?"

Rapunzel smiled shyly back, unsure of if this was wise and unable to ask the opinion of the one she most wished to be with. But she trusted him, and a little adventure never hurt anyone.

Finding her one of Faramir's older cloaks, they snuck through the servant passages and hidden doorways of the citadel to they came to a very disused part. Pulling aside a worn tapestry, Boromir revealed an old oak door, with a padlock on it. Pulling a leather cord from his neck, he placed it and the pendant upon it in Rapunzel's hand. As her fingers wrapped around it, she felt the cold form of iron, and quickly looked down. It was a key.

Boromir simply nodded to the door, a smirk on his face. She tentatively slid the key into the lock, and turned it, with less force than she expected from such an old door. It swung open revealing a well-kept personal library. The scent of parchment and musk wafted through the open archway.

"It's not much, but this is where Faramir spends— spent most of his time before he met you, when he wasn't off at battle."

A huge smile lit up Rapunzel's face. Books.

Boromir left her there and went down to the training grounds, secure in the fact that only one other alive had the key and knew of the location of this room, Faramir. Thinking to his brother, he realized it had been several hours since he had last been with Rapunzel, and so sent a young guard to find the whereabouts of his brother.

Rapunzel soon became immersed in the multitude of volumes of literature surrounding her, and quickly lost all sense of time. So oblivious was she that when a voice softly called her name from close behind her, that she lost her grip on the book in her lap. Masculine hands reached around her and caught the book before it tumbled to the ground.

"I did not mean to startle you, my lady."

Rapunzel blushed at the warmth radiating rom the arms around her, unwilling to turn around and become trapped in his - Faramir's - embrace. Taking the book hastily from his grasp, she move out of his reach to return it to its proper place.

"Rapunzel?" So much was left unsaid in his simple question, and she paused, unsure of how to respond.

"What are your new orders?" She asked, with her back still to the young captain.

"My father has seen fit to order to return to Osgiliath and defend the western shore against invaders."

"When do you leave?"

"The day after next."

For a long time, both stood in an awkward silence. Drawing all of her courage, Rapunzel turned and flung herself into Faramir's arms. The sudden movement startled him, but he quickly gathered her small form into his arms. Hesitantly Faramir's bent down and place a kiss firmly on the crown of her golden head. 'I have to find a way to keep you safe.'

Author's Note: Thank for reading the prologue of what will be a three stories series following the plot of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Ring's Trilogy, with the addition of select Walt Disney princesses, to be revealed over the course of the three stories.

The timeline of the plot will be a generous mixture of both book-lore and film screen play, with smatterings of Disney plots from the corresponding princesses' films. This story will not attempt to totally rewrite the events of the War of the Ring, only the inclusion of nonCanon LOTRs characters who disrupt and change the event immediately surrounding them.

While the plot and timeline is already planned out, as are the romantic pairings for these stories. Updates will hopefully be once a month, however they will be long. If you have any questions, or suggestion, feel free to message me, and my co-writer and I will respond when we have available time.