Disclaimer: See previous chapter.

Denethor, once he had regained consciousness saw a lone rider making haste to Minas Tirith from Osgiliath. He was riding hard and was at the gate of the city. It opened and let him in. The rider rode up the levels of the City and rode to the Steward's courtyard. Denethor, getting the feeling that he was needed, decided to leave the gardens to go to the courtyard.

When he got there, he saw Faramir's advisor, wearing a gas mask, dismount from a horse, holding a limp figure clad in armor and also wearing a gas-mask.

Denethor raised an eyebrow. "Who's that?" He asked. "You know, I don't give a Nazgul's toe clippings about some random injured soldier; just plop him in the Houses of Healing for all I care."

The advisor stared awkwardly at Denethor. "Um… I think you might, I mean, you should care about this one… I'm not sure if you actually will…" The limp figure began to stir as the advisor took off both of their gas-masks and started to walk towards Denethor, slipped in a mud puddle, and accidentally dropped him face-first into an even larger mud puddle. The limp figure grunted as he hit the ground and lapsed back into unconsciousness.

"Oh my!" cried the advisor and got up and went to the once-more limp man. Denethor stared blankly at the strange man's even stranger antics. The advisor beckoned for Denethor to come over by him as he flipped the mud-soaked man over onto his back, drenching his back in mud as well.

Denethor sighed; clearly this man was off his rocker. He then began to make his way towards the advisor and the unconscious man. When Denethor got there, the advisor wiped the mud from the unconscious man's face.

Denethor's mouth dropped and he fell to his knees. Then, he let out a cry of, "My son! He is dead! My sons are spent! My line has ended!"

The limp man, now identified by Denethor as Faramir, groaned and opened his eyes. Then, he said, "What are you talking about, Father? I'm still alive!" Faramir sat up and groaned. "My head… oh…" He rubbed his head. Then, he sputtered as he noticed the foul taste in his mouth. "Ugh! What got into my mouth? Did I fall into the sewers of Osgiliath?"

"Uh… sir," the advisor started, nervously, "I slipped into a mud puddle, causing me to drop you into a larger puddle of mud."

Gandalf was passing by when he heard this. "Oh," he said, "that larger pile of mud wasn't really mud. That was courtesy of Shadowfax. Gus fed him the 'Swordsman's Diet'."

Everyone stared at Gandalf to digest this information. Then, Faramir spoke up, "You mean to tell me that I fell in a pile of sh-"

"SHAVING CREAM! BE NICE AND CLEAN! SHAVE EVERY DAY AND YOU'LL ALWAYS LOOK KEEN!" Pippin sang loudly as he walked through the courtyard.

(A/N: This is a part of the lyrics from the song called, "Shaving Cream" by "Gruesome Three". Go look it up if you want to.)

"Yes, Faramir," Gandalf replied, "you fell into a pile of sh-"

"SHAVING CREAM! BE NICE AND CLEAN! SHAVE EVERY DAY AND YOU'LL ALWAYS LOOK KEEN!" Pippin sang loudly.

Faramir immediately began to sputter and got up. "I NEED SOAP AND HOT WATER!" He yelled and ran off.

Denethor blinked. "Well, that was certainly strange." He said to himself. Then, he turned to the advisor and said, "Did you achieve victory at Osgiliath?"

"Yes." He replied.

"How? I must know!"

"Faramir brought out our secret weapon."

Denethor gasped. "You don't mean The Secret Weapon?"

"Yes." The advisor replied. "Gusuvius Gastricus Odorio Bodorion Pooticus Garlicus Gludios Olfacior Obolere."

"What madness possessed Faramir for him to go to those extremes?" Denethor queried. "He's supposed to the one with the good head on his shoulders!"

The advisor shrugged. "He said that it is what Boromir…"

"MAY HE REST IN PEACE!" Everyone in Minas Tirith shouted.

"… would have done." The advisor finished. "He even gave Gus the 'Swordsman's Diet'."

"Then he must have truly been mad." Denethor commented. "And he calls me crazy!"

Mina and Nari: Please leave lots of reviews and there are still TWO more chapters left!