The next morning was a cloudy morning. As Lothíriel watered the herb garden in the Houses of Healing, she heard odious shrieks. Dropping the metal pitcher, she rushed to the wall. In the distance, a group of four or so horsemen galloped towards the city. Fell creatures as black as pitch hovered above them. Now and then, they swooped as they attacked the horsemen. A trumpet called, ending on a high note. It was Faramir's call. With a cry, Lothíriel hid her eyes, unable to bear the sight of those dark creatures attacking her dear cousin. Peeking, Lothíriel spotted only one man still riding. Only one man could stay horsed under such conditions, and that would be Faramir. One of the flying monstrosities swooped. Suddenly, a light as bright as a star shone. As if blinded by that light, the creature veered from its prey. Lothíriel breathed a sigh of relief. Mithrandir arrived just in time.
Although Lothíriel longed to go immediately to the Citadel to help her cousin by providing some moral support, the healers kept her busy until sundown. Finally, they allowed her to depart for the seventh circle. Lothíriel arrived at the Great Hall just as Faramir exited. He swayed and leaned against the wall for support. His face showed signs of a mental weariness as well as physical fatigue.
"Lean on me," Lothíriel said, coming to his side and offering her shoulder.
A light flickered in Faramir's weary face as he questioned, "Cousin, how come you here in these perilous times?"
"Speak not of it," said she. "You have heavier concerns greater than my safety."
In silence, they strode to Faramir's room. After parting at his door, Lothíriel whispered a blessing and a prayer. Knowing Denethor's opinion of Faramir, she guessed Faramir would have burdens fit for two men, not one.
At dawn the next sunless day, Lothíriel spotted men departing with Faramir as their leader. By midmorning, Lothíriel found her father, returning from council with Denethor.
In silence she paced beside him before speaking. "Father, I beg of you, to tell me what has transpire and what should or could."
"I have already allowed you to stay," Imrahil lamented, "and now I rue it. I would rather you remain unburdened by the worries and plans of war."
"So, situations must be dire," Lothíriel remarked softly, after carefully taking note of her father's tone and words. "The enemy must be strong and our defenses few."
"Why did I teach you to think and listen like a politician?" Imrahil sighed. "To figure out underlying words and intentions?"
"Because you saw the potential you noted in my brothers," Lothíriel answered.
Imrahil heaved a sigh and said, "Let us speak in the privacy of our house." When they reached his study, he began, "The strength of our enemy is estimated to be far greater than our own. Cair Andros is bound to be overrun. Osgiliath, though now reinforced, will only be able to stand for a short time. As for Minas Tirith, all of Gondor's men that are not already employed elsewhere are her. Two or three days ago, Denethor ordered the lighting of the Beacons. Prior to that, he sent the Red Arrow to Rohan. The coming of Rohan will greatly aid us, if not save us. Even while we wait, we must stand as firm as we can. With Mithrandir, I think we can stand a bit longer and stronger. For now, I must pass some orders to your brothers before returning to Denethor."
After Imrahil departed, Lothíriel remained. Thoughtful, but not overly shocked. There was nothing she could say that was already said. What then was her purpose here? To her father, she was a burden. It was too late for her to at least relieve her father's burden. The least she could do was remain in the sixth and seventh circles, employing her abilities as best she could. As long as there were men to defend the lower circles, she would be safe in the higher regions.
That night, news of the coming of the Black Captain arrived. By the next day, Osgiliath had fallen again into the hands of the enemy. Faramir and his men had now retreated to the wall of Pelennor. Mithrandir then galloped on Shadowfax to lend aid for there was much he could do there. While the new day was still dark, flashes of red fire notified the city of the falling of even those walls. Eventually, Mithrandir arrived with wains filled with the wounded. That afternoon, a sortie, which was comprised Prince Imrahil and his riders, was organized for when the rearguard would have need of them the most.
The following day brought even eviler woes. Fire in the first circle broke out after the enemy hurled strange devices from their catapults. Soon, word of the heads of the slain were also catapulted into the city by their heartless enemies. On the wings of fell beasts, the shrieks of those terrible riders sounded above the city. The sound of them filled the brave with thoughts of death and filled them with fear. The enemy knew better than to use hunger against them. Fear and despair was so much more powerful.
As soon as the day shift was over, Lothíriel sought refuge from the cries of dying men and war in her family's house. She finally let loose the tears that had been slowly building up. Calacondo's promise had comforted and strengthened her until now. Now, that seemed to be no match against the shrilly cries of those nightmarish riders.
A soft light filled the room. A gentle voice whispered, "All is not lost yet."
"We are doomed, Calacondo," Lothíriel cried out, angrily. "You comfort me with empty words. Leave me be."
"You forget of Rohan," said the voice. "Even now, they come."
"They shall come to a city overrun by dark creatures and nameless beings," Lothíriel spat spitefully. "Even if I had already departed, death would come to me. Better for me to die at work in Minas Tirith than as a hunted hare in Lamedon."
An image of Calacondo smiling, not smugly, but maybe with pity and sorrow filled her mind. He said, "And now comes the time for the test of faith, young one. In the depths of despair, you deny. The question is: will you forever deny?"
Lothíriel dashed out of the house. She climbed up the walls of the seventh circle. Reaching the top, a dismal scene greeted her. Few manned the gates, for there was much to do in the lower circles. Men now fled behind the gates of the second circle. Even as she stood there, Lothíriel felt the strength and daring of the Black Captain grow as the courage of Minas Tirith diminished. Gazing towards the northwest, a wild hope seized Lothíriel. Perhaps Calacondo is right. Rohan may come. The spark of hope lit the fire of the joy for life in her eyes. Suddenly energized, Lothíriel returned to the Houses of Healing.
Throughout the night, taunting voices resounded through the city. The hungry flames raged unchecked, and the cries of dying men reached the Houses of Healing. Despite it all, a burning light of maybe useless hope burned within Lothíriel. All through a desperate night, she fought death for the lives of men vigorously. The morrow's dawning will forever prove the reality of the Little White Horse in Lothíriel's heart.
Author's Note: A lot is going on here! Much of this chapter was derived from The Siege of Gondor in The Return of the King. Therefore, read that for the best depiction of this chapter's current events. I included the timeline again with the latest events in italics. It might be a bit helpful in figuring out The Siege of Gondor as well.
Timeline: (All entries are about Lothíriel and her life unless otherwise noted.)
2999 – Birth
3009 – Witnesses the Horses of the Sea for the first time, meets the Little White Horse, and is introduced to the magical sanctuary.
3010 – Meets Éomer for the first time.
3011 – Second encounter with Éomer.
3015 – Third encounter with Éomer. Becomes an apprentice in the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith.
3017 – (April) Lothíriel concludes her training as a healer and becomes Denethor's "assistant."
3018 – (July) Boromir leaves for Imladris.
3019 – (Early January) the beginning of the evacuation of the civilians in Minas Tirith.
(Mid-February) Imrahil and his sons arrive in Minas Tirith with a host from Dol Amroth.
(February 29) Boromir is killed.
(March 8) Denethor receives the hereditary horn, now cleft in two.
(March 9) Mithrandir and Pippin arrive in Minas Tirith. Lothíriel encounters the Little White Horse/Calacondo.
(March 10) Faramir arrives under perilous circumstances. A thick shadow from the East prevents the light of the sun to shine over Minas Tirith, and it spreads westward.
(March 11) Faramir departs with some men of Gondor.
(March 12) Osgiliath and Cair Andros has fallen.
(March 13) Midmorning, Mithrandir comes, bringing the wounded. Evening, the walls of Pelennor, which are also known as the Rammas, falls. Twilight, a sortie, comprised of Dol Amroth and Mithrandir, departs from Minas Tirith to rescue the remaining of Faramir and his men. They bring back a wounded Faramir.
(March 14) The siege of Minas Tirith. The Pelennor Fields are destroyed. "Bombs" and "grenades" are fired within the first circle along with the heads of all men of Gondor who have perished.
