To Whatever End: Chapter Ten

-Kathryn-

My grip on the reins tightened as I steered Deor around a bend in our path, following the flow of the crowd as we continued on into the mountains. We were due to reach our destination any day now after traveling for over two weeks, moving as quickly as we could with such a large force. Théoden didn't want to tire out half of his army by pushing us too hard, but he also knew time was of the essence as we progressed towards Minas Tirith. We couldn't afford to be slow and leisurely now. Battle was waiting for us.

I let out a breath, feeling an uncomfortable twist of anxiety in my gut. When we'd first left Edoras, I'd hardly thought anything of the warfare we were riding into, truthfully. I'd just been going through the motions with everyone else. My focus had been on just getting to Minas Tirith as a start, not the massive army that'd be standing between us and the gates once we arrived. And now, as the final days of travel began slipping by, the threat of facing two hundred thousand enemies who all wanted to slit my throat became much more intimidating. All of a sudden I'd become a lot more fearful of this battle, and less sure I wanted to be one of the people fighting in it.

My gaze drifted down to the sword at my side. It was going to be a nightmare. I'd seen the movies enough times to know that. And the more I thought about it, the more aware I became of the fact that I could actually die if I went into it. It was so easy to forget my own mortality here when I was safe in Edoras or Lórien or wherever else with my friends. But now I was en route to the front lines of one of the biggest battles in the whole story. About to lay my life on the line for the future of a world that wasn't even my own. I stared out at the horizon, the black and red skies of Mordor now distinctly more visible than they'd previously been. Is Middle-Earth really worth dying for?

I was jolted out of my thoughts when Kaia suddenly smacked me on the back. "Kathryn!"

"What?" I jumped, glancing back over my shoulder.

"Did you not hear me? I asked if you had a snack in your bag."

"Oh, yeah, I do. Dig around in there and see what you can find." I grabbed my leather bag from where it hung over Deor's side, passing it back to Kaia who immediately started rooting through it. "You're always hungry," I noted, shaking my head.

"You say that like it's a problem."

I laughed. "I'm surprised you weren't reborn has a hobbit." From beside us, I heard Éowyn chuckle as well.

"Hey, if all I'm required to do is eat a dozen meals a day, smoke weed, and drink ale, I'd say that's a pretty successful life." Kaia returned my bag after pulling out a piece of dried meat, shifting her weight slightly as she turned to the lady of Rohan. "So Éowyn, have you ever been to Dunharrow before?"

Surprisingly, she shook her head. "No. I have only heard the stories growing up from my uncle and brother."

"Stories?" Kaia asked. "What stories?"

Éowyn eyed her curiously. "You've never heard the tales of Dwimorberg?"

"Uhh, no? What the hell is Dwimorberg?"

"The mountain," Éowyn said. "The one men say is haunted."

Kaia's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"Kaia, you've heard of this before," I cut in, glancing back to give her a pointed stare. "The haunted mountain and the Paths of the Dead? You know, those stories we heard from our old home?"

Thankfully, she got the hint, slowly nodding as it all clicked. "Oh... that mountain. Yeah, now that you mention it, I do remember something about some bitter ghosts."

Éowyn glanced to me, surprised. "These tales have reached as far as Laketown? I had thought it was only a legend within Rohan."

I smiled, hoping it didn't come across as completely and utterly fake. "Yeah, all the way up to Laketown. That's definitely where I heard about it," I lied through my teeth.

"Aren't they cursed to remain in the mountain forever?" Kaia asked. "'Vengeful spirits, doomed to an eternity of suffering' type of thing?"

Éowyn nodded. "The men of the mountains, once loyal to Gondor until they broke their oath to defend the crown." Then there was a flash of amusement in her eyes. "Some legends say that they have been seen in the night, luring unsuspecting men down the Paths of the Dead and trapping them beneath the mountain forever."

Kaia frowned. "Okay, that I do not remember hearing."

"She's making that part up," I said. But then I stopped, a shred of anxiety creeping into my voice. "...Right?" Please tell me that's not a real thing from the movies I forgot about.

To my relief, Éowyn laughed. "Oh, Kathryn. You need not worry, it's only an old wives' tale." It fell silent for a moment until a wry smile crept back onto her face, and she glanced back in my direction. "...At least, that's what most of the men say."

Instantly, a chill crept up my spine, and I swatted at her from atop my horse as she laughed. "Can you not tell me your creepy ghost stories when we're right about to set up camp under this mountain?! I'll pass the fuck out if I see even a glimpse of some green ghost man within a hundred yards of our camp."

Unfortunately, Kaia was also laughing from behind me. "Ooh, scawy," she drawled. "Big angry ghost man's gonna come haunt you in your sweep!"

"Shut the hell up!" I twisted around to smack her, too.

Kaia dodged it, still laughing as she turned to Éowyn with a grin. "I think we just found the perfect way to prank Kathryn tomorrow night, Éowyn!"

I groaned, facing forward again as my gaze narrowed in a glare. "I hate both of you."

–

-Erin-

The rolls of distant thunder were the only sound to be heard in the room as I sat cross-legged on my bed, staring out at the darkening sky. Only a few candles were lit, and occasionally my gaze flicked to them as their flames danced along the walls, stirred by the cool wind. The last of the summer warmth had begun to fade, receding like the tide as the first days of September crept up over the world. And today in particular seemed to be the last summer storm that would sweep over Minas Tirith before autumn came. I inhaled deeply, smelling the coming rain on the air and feeling goosebumps on my skin as the world held its breath, awaiting the inevitable storm. I'd returned to the suite some time ago to find myself alone, and at first took the opportunity to simply relish in the atmosphere, but then quickly become lost in thought. The solitude had drawn me in, and by now my mind had wandered hundreds of miles away, to an army of approaching horselords and the lone elven prince riding with them.

I sighed, wishing I could bring myself to turn my thoughts anywhere else. It had been over a month now, and I'd spent the majority of it kicking myself for how entangled in my own emotions I'd become. Not a day went by where I didn't think about how much I missed him. How much I'd wanted to say the day I'd left Edoras, but hadn't. How I was both elated and terrified to see him again. Every time the image of Legolas popped into my mind, it was like someone grabbed my brain and shook it, all else tumbling away until suddenly the only thing I could think about was his smile as he laughed. And I hated it. Here I was, months after ending our relationship because I thought it was the right thing to do; that I could get over it, and yet... I still loved him. There was no point in denying it now. I loved him, more than I think even I'd realized at first. And I had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

I stared out at the horizon, feeling a heavy weight on my shoulders. Do I tell him? Or do I stay silent and let him go? Silence seemed like the best option in a lot of ways. It would be safer for me to just leave it all in the past and continue on as friends. And better for Legolas' sake, too. Hell, it was probably what he wanted anyway. After everything I'd done and all the ways I'd failed him... I scoffed, shaking my head. There's no way he could ever love me. It's impossible.

But still, a tiny voice persisted in the back of my mind. Nothing is impossible. Improbable... unlikely, maybe, but never impossible.

I clicked my tongue, almost smirking at the motto I'd practically lived by when I was young. What killed me now, though, was the truth I had seen in it myself, giving me a hope I didn't deserve. There was a chance Legolas could still love me. I'd seen it myself. I'd seen our son; a future which meant we continued on. Though by now, that chance seemed no more than a shred of a shaky possibility, and my heart sank as I remembered why I'd walked away in the first place. Maybe not impossible... but not worth it. I've done so much wrong that if Legolas came back to me now it would ruin him forever. Most of the elves hate me, and Thranduil will likely kill me if I ever dare to set foot in his realm again. There's no chance he'd be willing to give up his only remaining son and heir to me. It won't happen, and Legolas knows that. My gaze fell to my hands resting in my lap. And that's why we both agreed it was for the best, I reminded myself. Because he deserves better.

Even as I recognized it, though, I could feel another part of me pushing back against my efforts of reason. But how much longer can I keep this up? How much longer am I going to sit here in silence with all of this boiling hotter and hotter just beneath the surface? I closed my eyes, brow creasing as I felt a dull ache in my chest. I want to tell him. I want the first thing out of my mouth the next time I see him to be "Legolas, I love you." Even if he doesn't love me back... I don't want this to be a burden I carry with me to my grave. It hurt too much. Selfish though it may have been, I couldn't deny how much I wanted to confess to him. Still, I remained caught in a constant back and forth - was it worth the risk to throw myself out there in such vulnerability? And was I prepared to deal with the consequences if things didn't play out the way I wanted?

My shoulders slumped as I opened my eyes, an exasperated sigh escaping me. My brain is telling me one thing, and my heart another. For a moment, my fists balled in frustration, and I frowned. Why does this have to be so complicated? I didn't ask for this. I never wanted all this drama and confusion; none of it! This whole quest wasn't supposed to end up as such a nightmare! But then I paused, catching myself in the midst of my internal anger. ...Did I really expect this journey to pass by so smoothly, though? Of course, the answer was no. I knew the story of Lord of the Rings too well to ever assume it would be easy. Even from the first days I'd considered joining the Fellowship, I'd been aware of the chaos I was willingly stepping into. A hand reached up to my neck, fingers grazing the empty space where a silver pendant once rested. Or at least... I thought I had.

Another low rumble drew my attention back to the outside world, and as I looked out to the Pelennor I was reminded of the upcoming battle. It was so close now, which meant my reunion with Legolas was also steadily approaching, whether I was ready for it or not. I could practically see it all playing out in my head: me fighting hard against Sauron's horde, tearing across the plains and cutting down Orc after Orc, only to pause at the sight of a flash of gold and green on the edge of my vision. I'd turn, and Legolas would be standing there in front of me as war raged around us, and... then what? What would I do? Feign a sense of normalcy like nothing had ever happened? Run straight at him and collide in a bone-crushing hug? I imagined the latter in my mind, almost laughing to myself. It would be just like the stupid movie cliché. Music swelling as we turn to one another, running in slow motion with our arms outstretched... his stupidly perfect hair flowing behind him in the wind...

A second later, though, I blinked, snapping out of my daydream and internally smacking myself. Oh, God, what am I saying? I sound like some lovesick teenager! I shook my head, trying to wipe the fantasy from my thoughts. This is ridiculous. I've got more important things to focus on than Legolas and his hair.

...I mean, his hair is really nice, though...

NO. STOP IT. I groaned and flopped back onto my bed, covering my face with my hands. "Is it too much to ask that I'm able to get my shit together for once in my life?" I mumbled between my fingers. A moment later, the air shifted, and I pulled my hands away as the soft pitter-patter of rain hitting stone swept the room, the clouds finally breaking and beginning to wash the city in its final hours of summer. I pushed myself up, pausing to stare out into the rain for a second before getting back on my feet, decidedly finished with sitting in the dark by myself.

As I grabbed my boots and pulled them back over my feet, I let out a breath, hoping I would somehow be able to sort this mess out soon. But for now, I did have other things to prioritize. I quickly left the room and started winding my way through the halls of the citadel in search of a particular redheaded friend. For the most part, I was focused on paying attention to where I was going as I moved through the mostly deserted halls, but once or twice I caught certain men casting dark looks my way as I passed them by. I said nothing to them, nor they to me, but it sent an uncomfortable chill up my spine as I ducked my head and kept moving. What the hell is their problem? I thought, frowning slightly. Do they think I'm some sort of heathen? Now I passed another man with broad shoulders cloaked in a deep blue, and I could feel his gaze cutting into me like lasers as he all but shoved past me in the hall. This time, I cast a glance back over my shoulder as the man continued on, my own eyes narrowing in on his tall figure. "Excuse you," I muttered under my breath once he was far enough away. "Unnecessary."

Just then, a shout came from further down the hall. "Erin!"

I turned back, startled by the sudden voice and quickly forgetting about the creepy men when I saw who'd called me. "Good God, Faramir! How do you sneak up on people like that?"

He chuckled as he approached. "It's rarely intentional. I suppose years of roaming the wild in enemy lands would teach you such a skill."

I half-shrugged as I matched his pace, turning to continue walking with him. "Yeah, I can understand that. I've always been pretty light on my feet, too. Half the time I think I nearly give Kathryn a heart attack when I pop up behind her; she never hears me coming."

Faramir laughed. "I believe that. I do remember her being rather easily startled."

"Yeah," I smiled. "And to be honest, I think it's only gotten worse now that I've spent so much time with the elves. I don't even try it half the time, I swear." I shook my head, changing the subject as I glanced back to the captain. "So where are you headed? I was looking to snag you for a minute, if you're free."

At that, however, his smile faded, a more somber expression coming over him. "I am sorry, Erin, but now is not the best time. I've been summoned to see my father. He wishes to discuss the recent events of Osgiliath's fall."

I tensed, trying to not show any visible change of emotion in my face as I realized the point in the story we'd reached, suddenly feeling incredibly remorseful as I looked away. "...I'm sure it'll be fine," I tried. But the words tasted hollow and sour in my mouth, and I frowned as reality started to set in. Faramir's going to be sent out to die. All because of a few insensitive words from his idiotic father. We came within view of a side door leading into the main hall, and I stopped, looking up at him again as he made to enter. "Faramir!" He turned to look back at me with soft eyes full of a deep pain I knew I would never understand, and I stumbled with my words. "...You... No matter what he says in there, don't... don't take it to heart," I said softly.

For a moment, Faramir paused, giving a silent nod of thanks, but before I could say anything else he'd turned and gone, disappearing from view. As the door fell shut with a soft thud, though, I still stood there, unable to look away from the spot where Faramir had just been standing. He deserves so much better, I thought. He deserves a chance to fight for his city and defend it honorably like I know he would. Faramir's not a martyr, he's a warrior, and a good man, and... and he's my friend. My gaze became distant as the image of him riding out to Osgiliath flashed across my mind, arrows hailing down as Orcs slaughtered them all... the same event I'd seen play out time and time again.

But then I blinked, and all of a sudden I felt a pull on my heart that shifted my entire perspective, the realization striking me hard and fast. There could be a second chance for him. Through me. I could stop this. My focus returned to the door in front of me, and I drew back a half step, remembering my promise. Save as many people as you can. However you can. As soon as I thought it, I felt a weak tug of resistance from somewhere in the furthest corners of my mind - telling me it was a bad idea, telling me I had no right to mess with the plot, telling me I had to let it play out for the sake of the timeline - but I was already gone, turning on my heel and taking off down the hall as a deep, burning conviction rushed through my veins. Fists clenched as I remembered how many mistakes I'd made for the sake of the timeline before, and my eyes darkened with a newfound determination. No. No more. Fuck the plot. Fuck the timeline. Faramir is going to make it out of this alive and well.

–

-Faramir-

"Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor. In peace or war. In living or dying. F... From..." I watched as the young halfling knelt before my father frowned, struggling to remember the words of the oath. "From this hour henceforth... until my lord releases me... or death take me." His words hung in the air with finality, and I wondered if perhaps he had never truly considered the severity of them until now.

There was an admiration in my father's eyes as he smiled, standing to his feet. "And I shall not forget it. Nor fail to reward that which is given." He stepped forward, extending his hand out towards Pippin, who hesitated slightly before placing a chaste kiss on Father's ring. "Fealty with love," he boomed, turning towards a nearby table adorned with food. "Valor with honor. Disloyalty... with vengeance." I did not miss his pointed stare in my direction and stiffened. He took his seat, an unnerving silence sweeping the room as he cast another expectant glance towards me while filling his plate. "I do not think we should so lightly abandon the outer defenses. Defenses that your brother long held intact."

"What would you have me do?" I asked, attempting to brush aside the sting of his words.

"I will not yield the river and Pelennor unfought! Osgiliath must be retaken!"

It was a task that could not be done, I knew. "My lord, Osgiliath is overrun," I replied calmly. My eyes never left him as he busied himself, however. Surely he must know this. Why would he ask this of me?

Father looked back to me, a cold, withering glare. "Much must be risked in war."

In an instant, I stilled, as if he had risen and struck me with his own hand. My face fell, everything suddenly lacing together in the form of a single word. Vengeance. And then I understood.

Again, my father's voice broke the silence of the room, dry and mocking. "Is there a captain here who still has the courage to do his lord's will?"

I could feel the eyes of others on me, shocked and appalled, but I could not tear my own gaze away from my father's. Something deep within my own heart shuddered and cracked, and when I spoke, my own voice sounded foreign to me. "...You wish now that our places had been exchanged. That I had died and Boromir had lived."

There was only a moment's hesitation as he raised a cup to his lips, the whisper so frail it almost went unheard. "Yes... I wish that."

My jaw clenched as the breath was sucked from my lungs, pain bursting in my chest as the words tore through me, stronger than even the mightiest arrow. Vengeance. And even now, even as I looked at him, what broke me further still was truth in what he'd spoken. For there was no shadow cloaking his eyes; no evil shrouding his mind and thoughts. He had meant it. I swallowed past the growing lump in my throat, feeling a familiar heat behind my eyes I struggled to withhold. "...Since you were robbed of Boromir... I will do what I can in his stead." My voice trembled, and I bowed low before turning to leave, hardly trusting my own strength to carry me much further. All was silent as I made for the great doors, hardly aware of my own footsteps as his words echoed in my head. After a moment, I paused, daring to turn back to him one last time with a desperate plea. "If I should return... think better of me, Father."

I had taken no more than two steps before he spoke. "That will depend on the manner of your return."

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to keep moving, even as I felt Father's sharp glare and Pippin's stunned gaze at my back. I could not do it. After all I had done to try and please him, to try and earn his respect... his love... I had failed. My own father does not love me. He cares for me no more than he cares for the dirt beneath his feet. I pushed past the doors, barely pausing as I continued out into the courtyard. The sky rumbled overhead, rain clinging to my face and tunic as I finally came to a stop at the base of the stairs, staring out at the blackened, desolate horizon. And there, in that moment, I found myself wishing the same as my father as well. I am worth nothing to him. I am worth nothing to this city. My gaze fell to where Osgiliath lay on the horizon, broken and burned. Perhaps Minas Tirith would be better without my presence after all.

–

-Kaia-

My grip on Kathryn's shoulders tightened as we rounded a sharp turn in our path, the sun shining high and clear overhead as we headed towards a looming mountain on the horizon. The hooves of over a thousand horses thundered behind us, and a few of the men were shouting back to the others to alert them: we'd finally reached Dunharrow. I tried to catch a glimpse of the camp up ahead, but I couldn't see past Kathryn and didn't dare try to lean out. I still didn't trust myself to stay balanced atop a moving horse - hence my firm grip on the brunette in front of me.

Obviously, my death grip didn't go unnoticed. "Kaia, relax! You're practically cutting off the blood flow to my arms!" Kathryn called out.

"I'll relax once my feet are on the ground," I said. "You know I don't trust this damn animal." As if she'd somehow understood my partial insult, Kathryn's horse (whose name I couldn't even remember) whinnied and flicked her head distastefully.

"Hey, be nice!" Kathryn scolded me. "She has feelings, you know!"

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head dismissively as I shifted just enough to see over her shoulder. We'd broken into a flat, grassy field covered in tents, stretching as far as I could see in a frenzied rush as everyone made way for their king in the midst of settling in. I glanced around at the multitude of men and horses swarming the area - in truth, there were way more than I'd expected, a barrage of varied shouts ringing out as we passed them by.

"Make way for the King! Make way, the King is here!"

"My lord!"

"Hail to you, sire!"

Théoden lifted a hand in greeting before sighting one of his officers. "Grimbold, how many?"

"I bring five hundred men from the Westfold, my lord!" the older man replied.

Another soldier also cried out from nearby. "We have three hundred more from Fenmarch, Théoden King."

Théoden frowned, scanning the field. "Where are the riders of Snowbourn?"

"None have come, my lord!"

Our company followed closely behind Théoden as we continued on through the campsite, making a beeline for the absolutely massive mountain set before us. Its sleek, grey cliffs reached up impossibly high into the sky, with a single, zigzagging path winding upwards to a smaller alcove which was to be our point of refuge. So this is the big scary mountain everyone here's afraid of, I thought, eyeing up the slab of rock. Hmm. Well, in daylight, it doesn't look too bad. As Kathryn pulled ahead to ride along at the front of the line, I looked to Aragorn at my right. "How long will we stay here?"

He glanced to the king momentarily. "As I understand, Théoden plans for us to remain here for seven days in wait for more of his men to come."

I did not miss, however, the edge of concern to his words, or the way his eyes danced back and forth over the men. "And I'm guessing you're not so fond of that plan."

Aragorn shook his head. "Sauron's forces have already been set loose from the gates of Mordor. If we linger here too long, they will reach Minas Tirith before we do, and it will be too late."

"So what are you going to do?" I asked quietly. "Try and convince Théoden otherwise?" He nodded, though still seeming unsure of himself, and I reached out to lightly nudge him in the arm. "Hey, don't worry about it. You'll figure it out. If you need someone to come smack some sense into him, you know where to find me."

At that, Aragorn laughed. "I believe they consider it treason to strike a king."

"Semantics," I shrugged dismissively, earning another grin from the ranger as we continued forward.

Within the hour we made it to the top, emerging onto the flat clifftop nestled halfway up the mountain to find an array of tents and accommodations set up for the king's company. When our procession finally stopped and dismounted, Kathryn let out a low whistle, glancing back the way we'd come as she turned to adjust her horse's reins. "Damn! How many riders are down there already?"

"Thousands," Éomer replied from beside us. "though many have not yet come."

"They will, though, right?" Kathryn asked, reaching for her bag as she looked to him expectantly. "We'll have enough men?"

Éomer let out a breath, casting an uncertain glance in the direction of the cliff's edge. "Let us hope." He turned to lead Firefoot away, leaving Kathryn and I to ourselves.

Once the horse lord was out of earshot, I stepped closer to her as she started unhooking the rest of our bags, lowering my voice to prevent others from overhearing. "Hey," I whispered, drawing her attention. "This is the part where Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli go into the mountain and get the ghost army, isn't it?" She nodded, and I instantly felt my insides curl inward on themselves as my worst fears were confirmed. "Fuck," I groaned, turning away and looking up at the mountain in dismay. "God, fuck me."

"What?" Kathryn asked. "Why does that bother you?"

"Because it means I'm going to have to go with them." Even now, just thinking about it made me shudder. "You know how much I hate the dark. The one thing I cannot do is dark. And I really don't want to mess around with evil undead spirits or anything, either."

Kathryn raised an eyebrow. "Then don't go. No one's making you."

I sighed, shaking my head. "It's not that simple," I muttered. "I have to go." My gaze fell to the ground, jaw clenched as I ran a hand through my hair. I have to stay with him.

"Kaia, that doesn't make sense. Just stay here." When I didn't answer immediately, though, I felt her shift, noticing my unease as my eyes remained rooted to a particular clump of grass. "Is something wrong, Kaia? You seem nervous."

I quickly shook my head, trying to force my anxious thoughts aside as I drew back slightly. "No, I'm fine," I lied through my teeth. "I just... I wanted to stick with them. That's all." Kathryn frowned, opening her mouth to say something else, but I abruptly spun on my heel and left before she could so much as get a word in. She can't know, I told myself, remembering my mission. If she knows, she'll try and stop me. I know she will. That's why I didn't tell Erin when she left for Minas Tirith. For a split second, though, I paused, feeling a dull pang of guilt in my chest. Hesitating, I turned back, looking to where Kathryn had just been, but she was already gone. ...No, don't even think about it. I shook my head, forcing myself to look away and keep walkingas I swallowed against the uncomfortable knot twisting in my gut, trying to reassure myself as I wandered off. No one can know.

–

-Erin-

I was moving as fast as I could through the halls of the citadel without looking insane, knowing my time was limited as I did my best to remember the guard's directions. I felt like I was racing against a ticking time bomb - already I'd heard whispers floating around speaking of a final effort to ride out and reclaim Osgiliath. I had to find Faramir before he left. I was determined to talk him out of this insane suicide mission somehow so he and his men might be spared. Nothing came of it except extra bodies to be tossed onto funeral pyres later, and with stakes already high, every soldier Minas Tirith had would be sorely needed to get us through Sauron's siege. And besides... they were innocent men. Good, strong men, whose lives were at risk of being thrown away for nothing on the whim of a madman. Men with families and loved ones... men who deserved a second chance. I couldn't just stand back and watch them all ride to their deaths. That was not what I'd come to this city to do, and surely it could be prevented if I got five minutes alone with Faramir to -

Suddenly, just as I shot around the next corner, another body appeared in front of me, and I gasped as I came within inches of slamming right into the person, jerking back as I rushed to spit out an apology. "Oh God, I'm so sorry, I-" I fell silent as I looked up to see who I'd almost collided with, eyes widening in recognition. Immediately, I straightened up, attempting to regain at least some of my dignity. "Lord Denethor," I addressed him, bowing my head. "My apologies, I should've been watching where I was going."

The Steward gave a polite smile, though it felt forced as his old blue eyes latched onto me. "You've no need to apologize, Lady Erin. There has been no harm done." I nodded and was about to step around him to continue on my way, but then he spoke again. "I trust you've enjoyed your time here in the city thus far?"

I nodded again, returning the thin smile as he still stood in front of me, blocking my path. "Of course, my lord. Minas Tirith is a wonderful city."

"Not too dull for you?" Something in his eyes shifted then, and still he kept his gaze fixed intently on me. "I imagine it must be strange for you, to be kept here within these walls for so long. Especially after spending years of your life roaming freely across all of Eriador."

Instantly, the smile fell from my face as Denethor continued to stare at me, all traces of polite formality gone. All of a sudden I felt like prey caught in the coils of a snake. "I don't remember ever granting you that information," I said tersely.

Denethor's lips curled into an ugly smile, and I swallowed. "I have means of obtaining such knowledge," he answered, voice low as he took a step closer, towering over me. I instinctively drew back, shoulders tensing. "A means which you are well aware of, I have heard."

I stared straight back at him, refusing to cower in fear. "I have a guess," I sneered.

The Steward chuckled, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "Your commitment to unearthing the discovery at Elostirion was impressive. Though I have heard it was not without its... complications. An assassin, was it? Two of them, sent to dissuade you from your search?" And then his smirk vanished, eyes darkening in a way that made my blood run cold. "Perhaps there is something to be learned from your past experiences."

Every muscle in my body was wound taut as I forced myself to show no signs of distress, choosing instead to cast a shit-eating grin back at him. "Perhaps. But I always was a slow learner." At my retort, I caught the slightest twitch of his face beginning to turn into an outright scowl, and my smile only widened as I stepped forward to push past him. "If you would excuse me, my lord." Denethor said nothing, only cast a withering glare at my back as he finally allowed me to pass. I wasted no time in continuing on down the hall at an even pace, not once glancing back until I'd turned the next corner and was out of sight. Then and only then did I finally let out a breath of relief, pausing to run my hands over my face and shudder from the uncomfortable encounter. "What the hell was that?" I breathed, taking a second to collect myself in the hall. God... I thought I was about to get jumped right in the middle of the citadel. But my thoughts quickly turned down a more distressing path as I started walking again, replaying the scene in my head. He knows what I'm up to. That much is obvious... and kind of scary, honestly. How did he figure that out? Has he been tracking me? I shook my head, thoroughly creeped out. I'm going to have to start being more careful.

Before I could think about the ominous warning much further, however, I came to the place I'd been looking for, and my attention quickly turned to the third door on the left as I headed straight for it. Remembering my purpose, I raised a hand and knocked loudly on the pristine wood without hesitation. "Faramir?"

The dull scuffling inside stopped at my call, and then I heard footsteps approach, the door opening a moment later to reveal the young captain himself standing before me. He gave a small smile upon seeing my face, but it contrasted sharply against the dull sadness in his eyes. "Hello, Erin."

I glanced past his shoulder, noting both the chainmail he currently wore and the plate armor spread out across his bed. "What are you up to?"

His smile flickered, but still he attempted to retain a calm, lighthearted tone that felt stale. "Father has tasked me with leading a charge on Osgiliath. He believes we have a fighting chance to reclaim the city." He hesitated for a moment, then finally stepped aside to let me in, realizing I had no intention of standing out in the hall forever. "We are to ride out soon," he continued, but every word was dull, hanging in the air like dead weight. "With some luck, we may best the Orcs that have invaded the riverlands."

"With some luck?" I stared at him incredulously, even as he turned his back to me. "Faramir, this is insane. You can't go out there - to ride for Osgiliath now would be suicide!"

"Perhaps."

The amount of apathy in his voice was chilling. "What about your men?" I asked, desperate for him to see reason. "You'd willingly lead them into such slaughter?"

"If they remain here, they will surely face the same fate." Faramir turned back towards his bed, lacing up the jerkin and reaching for his breastplate emblazoned with the White Tree. "I have not asked any man to ride with me against his will."

I felt my pulse quicken as he began donning his armor, still unfazed. "Faramir, please," I said, stepping closer. "Don't throw yourself away like this. We need you here. Who else will lead Gondor's armies in the fight against Sauron's?"

At that, he paused, glancing in my direction, and for a moment I felt a glimmer of hope. But his expression still remained somber as he shook his head, despair lacing his words. "There will be no fight," he said quietly. "Only slaughter. Sauron's forces are too great in number for us to best them."

"How can you say that? You're just going to admit defeat and forfeit before the battle even begins?" My fists clenched as I watched him lower the breastplate over his head, determination sparking in my gut as I began speaking with confidence and vigor. "This is not the time for fear and despair, this is the time to stand and fight! The people of Gondor would look to you, their captain, in their darkest hour, to lead them through to the light when no one else can! Sauron means to desecrate your city, and it is your duty to fight in defense of her glory! For honor and valor!"

Suddenly, Faramir stopped, turning on me with a scathing heat behind his eyes. "Valor and honor?" he mocked, all but scoffing at my speech as he gestured across the room. "Look around you at where we stand. This city is crumbling to pieces. My men are weary, fearful, and without hope. They have lost their faith in my father; in Gondor itself, and we do not have the strength in numbers to match an army of over two hundred thousand Orcs, Easterlings, and Haradrim! My father has fallen to madness, my brother is dead, the line of kings has failed and the line of stewards is broken! Sauron will destroy every man, woman, and child within these walls, and before long Minas Tirith will be gone!" Faramir stopped, almost shouting as he finished, and stepped back again, taking a breath to compose himself before shaking his head with a deep despair filling his gaze. "We do not have the strength to repel him. Gondor is already lost."

I stared at him, shellshocked as Faramir turned away again, reaching for the next piece of his armor. It was silent for several long seconds as I stood there, mouth agape, until my initial shock shifted into a deep disappointment. "...Is that what you think Boromir did?"

He stopped, again glancing back at me with a mix of anger and grief in his eyes. "Do not speak of my brother in this," he warned. "You knew nothing of him."

But now it was my turn to get angry as I boldly stepped forward again, fists clenched in frustration. "I beg your pardon? I traveled with him for months. I fought at his side; we were both a part of the same quest to bring everlasting peace to Middle-Earth and destroy evil forever!" I held Faramir's gaze with an intensity that I think surprised even him. "I was there in his final moments at Amon Hen. I was with him, fighting against over a hundred Uruk-Hai in the middle of the woods as they barreled down the hillside and swarmed us, ready to drink our blood and feast on our flesh!" A pause. "...I watched as the first arrow struck him in the chest and he fell to his knees. He was already dying by the time he hit the ground, and he knew it, and the Uruks kept coming, bearing down on him, ready to tear him apart! He was staring death in the face, and you know what he did?" I took another step forward, my voice dangerously low. "He got up. And he kept fucking fighting. And then the next arrow hit him, and he fell again, and again he was surrounded on all sides by enemies ten times stronger than him - enemies that wildly outnumbered him - and even as he was dying, he got up and he kept fighting to take the Uruks down. Because people Boromir loved were in danger, and he knew he had to protect us as long as he could. He kept fighting until his last dying breath, against impossible odds..." I trailed off, feeling such heavy emotion swell in my chest, and shook my head. "He never gave up," I said. "Not once." But then my eyes darkened again, and I took another step forward, now mere inches away from Faramir. "And you're telling me that after I stood there and witnessed that kind of courage in Boromir, and then came all the way down here to finally meet Faramir, the younger brother - the brother Boromir talked about and praised constantly for his strength of heart, the brother Boromir respected and admired and loved and believed in more than anything!-" My mouth suddenly snapped shut in the midst of my shouts, chest tightening and hands trembling. For a moment, words failed me as I stared up at Faramir, a thick silence hanging between us before I spoke again in no more than a whisper. "...You're telling me that this same beloved younger brother is giving up without a fight?" I shook my head again. "That is not the Faramir I heard Boromir speak of. That's not you."

The following silence was wrought with static, dancing on my skin and heightening the brittle feel of the air to the point where I was hesitant to even breathe for fear the whole room would shatter. Faramir stared at me in utter shock, frozen in place as eyes rimmed with unshed tears stared back at me, carrying a thousand different emotions I couldn't even begin to analyze. His helmet was grasped between his hands, white-knuckled as he gripped it like a lifeline. And then he spoke. "...What hope remains for me here in Minas Tirith?" His gaze fell away then, resting on the helmet, only this time his voice was filled not with bitterness, but brokenness. "I would rather lay down my own life for that which I loved rather than it be taken from me by the Enemy. When such darkness surrounds us on all sides, is it so wrong to wish to die in the name of what was once beautiful and right?"

"No," I said, voice softening. "But that's not what matters. It's not about finding something you're willing to die for, it's about finding something you're willing to live for. Something that pushes you to keep going, even if it means you have to drag yourself through hell day by day." Faramir looked up at me again, and I reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder. "That's what takes real strength. The strength I know Boromir saw in you." His eyes bored into mine for a moment longer as I finally stepped back, glancing at the helmet. "So what are you going to do for this city, Faramir? Are you willing to die? Or are you willing to live?"

Faramir's eyes also fell to the helmet once more, staring at it in silence as everything I'd said ran through his mind. We stood there for so long, him continuing to stare at the final piece of armor, and I at him, praying I'd somehow managed to change his mind. There was more I could've said in that moment, but I chose not to. This was a decision Faramir ultimately needed to come to on his own. But still, I stayed there, watching. Still as a statue. Waiting.

After what felt like an eternity, Faramir finally raised his gaze to meet mine again, jaw clenched in grim determination as I saw the resolve settle in his face.

And then he cast the helmet aside, and I smiled.

–

-Kathryn-

I gripped Deor's reins tighter as I all but dragged her over to her pen, struggling as she whinnied fearfully and stamped her hooves as I tried to coax her forward. "God, what the hell is going on? There's nothing here, girl! It's just a mountain!"

"Have you not heard the stories?"

I looked up to see Éomer nearby, removing Firefoot's saddle after tying him down. Even his proud horse looked skittish. "What, about all the ghosts in the mountain?" I huffed, handing Deor's reins over to the blond as he successfully got her into the pen. "Yes, but I'd like to sleep at some point this week, so I'm trying not to think about them."

Éomer cast a wary glance in the direction of the mountainside only a handful of yards away. "We should not have come here," he said lowly. "This mountain does not welcome us."

Against my better judgement, I followed his gaze, catching sight of a crevice within the rock that framed a narrow pathway leading deep into the mountain, obscured by mists and gnarled trees. Just looking at it sent a chill up my spine, and I shivered despite it being a perfectly warm, sunny day. "Remind me to not let Éowyn tell me any more of her ghost stories while we're here. Or ever again," I mumbled under my breath. "That girl enjoys scaring people way too much."

Just then, Legolas and Gimli appeared around the corner as well, the former surveying the scene around him and noting how many struggled to get their steeds under control. "The horses are restless, and the men are quiet."

"They grow nervous in the shadow of the mountain," Éomer replied. Again, he glanced towards the unnatural crevice splitting the face of the mountain in two, and I instinctively shifted back half a step, feeling my pulse quicken.

Gimli nodded in the direction of the pathway, and even he sounded unnerved as he spoke. "That road there... where does that lead?"

"It is the road to the Dimholt; the door under the mountain," Legolas answered quietly.

"None who venture there ever return." Éomer warned, his voice low and foreboding as he turned to walk away. "...That mountain is evil."

I shuddered again and clenched my fists, finally tearing my gaze away from the pathway to glare at all three of them. "Don't worry guys, it's cool. Not like I needed to sleep tonight or anything." Éomer said nothing as he left, nor did Gimli, doing nothing to ease the tension in the air. "Besides... it could all just be some big exaggeration," I tried to convince myself, despite knowing it wasn't true. "After all, if there's no survivors, then there's nobody who's ever really seen it before."

Legolas turned, brow raised as he glanced down at me just before leaving to follow the dwarf. "No survivors? Then where do the stories come from, I wonder?"

Every hair on the back of my neck shot straight up. "Would you cut that out!?" I yelled after him, glaring at the retreating elf's back once again. When he didn't respond, I growled and crossed my arms over my chest, storming off in the opposite direction and attempting to shake the uneasy feeling settling over my shoulders.

A/N: And in this episode of Changing Destinies, Legolas quotes another movie in which Orlando Bloom plays the hot sidekick. Wow, how meta (idk I just like to have fun ok). Also, I'm really into doing big long monologues like the Erin one in this chapter? I'm discovering all KINDS of new things about myself through this fic folks.

Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving to you all! I hope you have the most wonderful time gorging on turkey and stuffing or whatever else you like to eat! Thank you so so much for those of you who are still sticking with me in this fic! It's a long journey, but we're steadily drawing to a close! :) I'll see you guys next time! Much love.