Chapter 4:

*gasp*

SO DID FAY SURVIVE THAT HORRIBLE FALL?

Read on to find out.

Enjoy and review! :D

~littledragoneyes

Chapter 4:

A guard on the Citadel scanned the horizon in the direction of the ruined Osgiliath for remaining Orcs and those horrible monsters from Mordor. That attack was brutal, frightening and sudden. Not many survived, and he feared for the worst.

They had to retreat, because the army from Mordor was too much for them to handle. Now he wondered what was going to happen to the beautiful Minas Tirith, since they were the next target.

But then he spotted something moving. His eyes weren't as keen as an elf would be, but he was not blind to all that moved. Something, or someone, was still alive out there. It could have been a body that rolled over.

He grabbed the telescope hanging on his belt, and peered through it anxiously. He was right. It was a person, a Mortal, not an Orc, who laid sprawled on a pile of broken and dead bodies. Except that person still had life.

The guard alerted and told some of his friends, and together they rode out on horses, to that fallen body.

When they arrived there, though, they were very alarmed at what they saw.

Very alarmed.


I rolled over and groaned, my side feeling horrible and my body was sore.

The light was rather strong.

Is this heaven or something? I thought to myself. No, wait, it must be the Hall of Mandos, where all Men go. And Elves too. Maybe I'll meet an Elf? I've always wanted to...but didn't Daerua say that the Hall of Mandos was a dark place? Why was there so much light...

I opened my eyes, but regretted it. I squinted, seeing a figure peering over me.

"She's awake." Somebody said dully. It was a female voice.

"Hush! Don't frighten her!"

By now my eyes were clear and I could see right. I was looking up at three maids, human. I frowned. I don't remembering seeing any other maids besides Daerua that were human...unless...

"Who are you?" I demanded immediately. "Why am I not dead?"

They blinked, a little startled to hear me so loud. That was me. A loud-mouth. It's great being loud.

"Child, what is your name?" One of them asked.

I hesitated. This place definitely was not Mordor. Most knew my name, so if this place wasn't Mordor, I shouldn't say my real name, or else something may happen. "Erm...Syrene." I said automatically, thinking of the first name I could think of. Which was, ironically, my mother's name.

She stared at me. Something was definitely stirring in her mind. I fidgeted.

"How old are you?"

"Fourteen."

The three maids looked at each other, shocked. "And pray tell us, Lady Syrene, why were you on the Pelennor Fields?"

I swallowed. "I'm not dead?" I asked.

One of the maids looked at me strangely. "Are you alright, dear?"

I blinked. "Yes, I am. But...I thought I died out there."

"You almost did," another said. "But why were you fighting out there? Why were you fighting? We found weapons on your body."

Then it hit me. I remembered my mission. Torn. Morgomir. Sauron. Attacking Osgiliath. I fell off...

Oh, shit. I'm in Minas Tirith...

I had to immediately feign innocence and lie as well as I could. Heart pounding rapidly, I said, "Um," I scratched my head, trying to look confused. "I really don't remember how I got there...sorry."

"That's quite alright. You must've hit your head, dear." One of them said. "But silly me, I forgot to introduce myself! I am Ioreth, of the Houses of Healing. This is Evala and Mayli, my apprentices. A guard from the Citadel spotted you and brought you in. I saw you and you were a mess! But I think you are fine now."

That's nice of them...I thought. Minas Tirith people weren't that bad as Sauron depicted them as. So why did he say all of Middle-Earth were mean and all that?

"How long was I out?" I asked.

"A few hours. It is nearly supper time. You had a broken arm, a few broken ribs, some mighty nasty cuts and wounds, but your two feet seem quiet alright and still intact. But it's a pure miracle you survived, Lady Syrene. And the Lord Faramir wants to speak with you now." Ioreth told me.

They stepped away, and a tall man entered the room. He light golden-brown hair, and gray eyes and he looked to be a nice man. But from Sauron I heard that he was the Steward's son, so I had to keep my distance and be wary of him.

But a thought entered my mind, But I can be a spy for Sauron! This is so much fun...I get to spy! I can tell him what they're planning to do next...and oh, I'm happy today.

"Good evening, my lady." He bowed low to me, just to be polite. "Your name is..."

"Syrene."

He smiled and sat down on a seat next to my bed. "Your injuries were quite intense, I must say." He said.

I returned a grin. "Yes, they were, my lord."

"Please," He waved his hand. "Call me Faramir."

"Faramir..." I tested out his name. Eh, it didn't sound half bad. Gothmog was a horrible name.

"Who is your mother and father, if I may ask?" He asked me.

I made up some names. "Feradyne and Anson." I replied.

He nodded. "What city do you come from?"

I tried not to hesitate. "Rohan." I blurted out, remembering Saruman fuming about when he was doing some war in Helm's Deep.

Faramir looked at me strangely. "Why have you come from Rohan?"

"I seek help." I said the first thing that come from my mind. Oh, shit, that wasn't a good answer...

"What for? Is Rohan in trouble?"

"Well, yes." I said, choosing my words carefully. "We...have been attacked several times."

Truth be told, I regret not paying attention to Sauron when he was telling me the current events. I pay too much attention to my food.

"You have been? Is that why Rohan has not come to Gondor's aid?"

I tried not to let out a sigh of relief. So maybe I did say something good. "Yes, Faramir. We are sorry."

He nodded. "It is understood. And you have just been mixed up in the horrible attack from Osgiliath while trying to arrive here?"

I inwardly winced at the words, 'horrible attack'. Mind you, it wasn't that bad. Hey, I worked hard! Geez, I'm insulted.

"Yes." I said.

"Well, then I will report it to my father." Faramir got up, and then left my room. "You best get some rest." He told me.

I watched him leave, and then flopped back on my pillow. That was definitely a close one. Lying was not my specialty. I might have blown it, I might have not. I just hope that nothing is suspicious.

Ioreth came back into the room, without the maids. "Are you feeling well?" She asked.

"When can I walk again?" I complained almost immediately. I shut my mouth instantly, remembering that she was not Daerua and strangers should be respected, especially Ioreth. She was kind to me.

She laughed, though, not insulted. "Since your legs are fine, you can get up, but do not hurt yourself or do anything to hurt yourself furthermore!" Ioreth's eyes twinkled, her old face wrinkling with her smile. I liked her a lot now. Especially that she allowed me to walk.

"I will help you dress, since you probably cannot do it with your hand and arms like that."

Ioreth did help me, like how Daerua would help me tie the strings in the back where I couldn't reach. It was a nice green dress that was silky and soft. But it wasn't a dark color like the clothes back in Mordor that I wore. It was a lighter color, and I was a bit cautious about wearing it, but to keep myself safe, I wore it without hesitation.

"Thank you." I told her, and then slipped out of the room.

My arm was bandaged, and my side was also bandaged, making me a bit more clumsy that I should be. I hope it was healing fast, so then I could ride back to Mordor and report as much as I could.

Wandering around, I decided it would be best to see as much as I could before I left. And upon wandering into a long hall that was colored black, white and silver with tall columns, I recognized Faramir speaking with another man, an older one, who was sitting at a table, eating. I frowned. I think that one would be the Steward of Gondor, because he was sitting on the throne. He was an old man, but looked to be stubborn.

There was also another person, who was very short and looked to be like a small child, but wearing Gondorian armor. I raised my eyebrows. They use children to fight to now? I feel very bad for Gondor now.

"I do not think we should so lightly abandon the outer defenses," The older man said. I tuned in closely, in case if it were important information. "Defenses that your brother long held intact."

"What would you have me do?" Faramir asked.

"I will not yield the river and Pelennor unfought. Osgiliath must be retaken." The older man said. Now I remembered his name was Denethor. Ha, take that, Daerua! I actually do pay attention to my studies.

"My lord, Osgiliath is overrun."

"Much must be risked in war. Is there a Captain here who still has the courage to do his lord's will?" Denethor asked coldly.

Ouch, I thought. That's a little rough.

"You wish now that our places had been exchanged. That I had died and Boromir had lived." Faramir said quietly, his voice sounding sorrowful, but Denethor seemed to not detect it.

"Yes. I wish that." Denethor replied.

I watched them, feeling slightly sad for them. Especially Faramir. How could any father be so...mean?

"Since you are robbed of Boromir, I will do what I can in his stead."

Then I really did feel bad for them. Faramir, his voice tight, and a cloud of misery seeming to hang over his shoulders, he walked away, but then turned back. "If I should return, think better of me, father."

Denethor looked at his younger son coldly, as if he were rudely disturbed from sipping his wine. "That will depend on the manner of your return."

Biting his lip, Faramir walked slowly away from his father.

I frowned at Denethor. Some father. Bad excuse for a Steward, mind you.

I slipped away quietly, having been practicing for a while back in home, when Sauron was holding councils and I wanted to listen but wasn't allowed to. You had to move fast, in the shadows, but keep yourself silent.

Same here. I quickly went through the bigger doors, following Faramir. I had to talk to him.

I spotted him walking through a crowd, and tried to chase after him without giving myself pangs of pain from my ribs and arm. Finally, I did, but after a few minutes.

"Faramir!" I called. He turned, hearing his name. He raised his eyebrows. "Lady Syrene? What are you doing here out of the Houses of Healing?"

"Um, Ioreth said it was okay for me to leave." I told him.

He pushed that thought away and nodded. "What do you need?"

I thought for a bit to say what I wanted to speak. "I...I saw the way your father treated you, just five minutes ago." I said quietly, and feeling awkward too.

Faramir didn't show any expressions of sadness, but he did sound a little bit more miserable. Whoops. "Did you? I hope he didn't make a bad impression on you." He said flatly, and resumed walking.

"Well...I guess he was a bit too harsh and rough on you." I said.

"Really?"

"Yes. I don't think he should treat you like that just because of your...your brother. And that you couldn't do anything about Osgiliath." I told him.

He nodded. "You think so?" He sounded like he didn't believe me, like everybody else had said it just to cheer him up. Like those clouds of misery wouldn't disappear until he died or something, no matter what everybody said.

"Really!" I protested. "I mean it. There's no reason why he should do that to you."

We kept walking in an airy sense of quietness, until Faramir spoke up, "Would you like me to tell you about Osgiliath, then? Perhaps you could leave to Rohan once my father figures out a way to help you and then tell the rest of your people about Osgiliath, so the memory of that place lives on. Before I leave on my father's orders, that is."

We stopped at a balcony, where other guards roamed the place.

Osgiliath really did look like it died. It was clearly ruined and crumbled, and you could see bits of smoke drifting lazily into the air. I could almost sense that Gothmog was there, ready to crush Minas Tirith.

As I overlooked Mordor, I was surprised to see how dark the clouds were over there compared to Minas Tirith. In Gondor, the skies were a fair blue, something that I hadn't seen much before. The clouds were a clean white, not a murky shadow.

"Osgiliath is being overrun by monsters." He said almost instantly, just by gazing at the place.

I nodded, sort of agreeing. What had we done to Osgiliath? I felt a bit of remorse and guilt, and a sick feeling in my stomach. He turned to me. "Sometimes I fear for Middle-Earth's fate. What will happen when the elves all disappear, and the strong allies we had will vanish from this world? What will happen if the Dark Lord does take over Middle-Earth? Will we see darkness and despair? Will we hear only about death and smell the rotten corpses of people dying? What will happen?"

I said quietly, just feeling like defending my foster father, "Maybe Sauron doesn't mean it that way. Maybe he just wants to help us."

"Help?" Faramir snorted. "You call this helping?"

He swept a hand to the distance. "Our men are vanishing, dying at Orcs and Uruk-hai's hands. All at his command. That is not helping."

I bit my lip and glared hard at a mountain.

"Innocent people are dying. The Dark Lord, may, though, be meaning to help us, but is this the best way to tell us? Is this the best way to try to tell us that he wants to take control over all Middle-Earth?" Faramir told me.

"If he truly wants to help us, why does he help us by killing off so many?"

Yeah, I thought quietly. Why does he exactly want to help us if he made us kill so many people? I remembered when I was on my first mission, watching and letting Torn kill as many as he liked, eating them even.

I didn't even think twice about it...

But now I do, and it made my stomach sick. I felt like throwing up. Why had I done? I just killed...people! Without even realizing it, just because it was a stupid mission and I was excited for it. Sauron, indeed, was a good foster father and raised me with his beliefs.

But did he tell me that others were suffering because of his "help"?

No.

Did he tell me the truth about the War of the Ring?

No.

Did he tell me that he was trying to help, but was only killing people because he wanted to dominate?

No.

Did he lie to me, say that it was only for the best, that he wanted to take Middle-Earth because he supposedly believed the others were ruling it wrong, and when the others didn't listen he decided to just kill them all until they gave in?

Yes.

And then he made me and my ancestors breed those animals for him. Help him create wacky inventions for him.

Just so he could do whatever his selfish needs demanded to have.

And he dared lie to me.

But on the other hand...he did help me. He gave me shelter, food and family. He raised me up with the same devoting love as a mother and the same gentle hand of a father. He was a good person, inside. But to the others...no.

He did sometimes, laugh and talk with me. He did, sometimes, read me stories when I was younger, and help me with my studies behind Daerua's back. He did raise me up like any other father would.

Yet he did all this.

Now I was very confused.

"I must go now." Faramir said, breaking my thoughts. "Would you like to stand by the streets with the rest of the women and children? I would like to have a friend to see, one last time."

I instantly turned to him. "Look, Faramir. I really don't think you should go."

"Why is that?"

"Just because your father told you to. Look, it's not - don't do it. Your father's gone crazy. He's not thinking right. You could die!"

"Exactly my point why you should stand by in the streets. I would like to see a friend when I go."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Don't be stupid!" I snapped. "You won't survive!"

He shrugged, and walked away. "Faramir!" I said, exasperated, but he was already gone.

Gone.

Perhaps from life as well.


Yay, I finished another chapter really fast again! So happy. :D

Just type really fast. Like really fast. Write during lunch, on the bus, in between classes, keep thinking during classes...and yeah, you're done! Strange technique, works pretty well. Or at least jot down notes.

Yeah, but anyways...please review! ;D

Cheers,

littledragoneyes