A/N: I only own my OC's (currently Mira and Edwin) and the rest belong to Tolkien.

23 Year Old Mirawen

It was shortly after dawn, and the sun peered down through the trees where the weary rangers of Gondor had made their camp the previous night. The small fire, only big enough to keep them warm so as not to alert the enemy of their whereabouts, was now nothing more than dark smoke dancing in the crisp morning air. Faramir had been on watch, upon seeing the beginnings of daylight peeking out from behind the dark grey clouds, he stood from his spot and signalled to Huron, the other soldier who'd been on watch duty with him, that he was going to do a quick perimeter check. Picking his bow up off the ground, he adjusted the strap of his quiver to rest more comfortably on his aching shoulders.

Faramir pulled his hood over his over his head, blending in with the woodlands around him as he scouted the tree line, his eyes and ears alert. They had been following a large group of orcs on foot for three days, the plan was to follow them just before they reached the hidden refuge of Henneth Anun, where Boromir and his army waited. The enemy would be trapped between the two armies, and there would be nowhere for them to flee. It would be a certain victory on their part, so long as Faramir and his men were not spotted by the enemy first.

Tensing at a slight rustle in the bushes up ahead, Faramir stepped back quietly to hide himself behind a tree trunk. He pressed his back up against the bark and counted to three, quickly nocking an arrow on to his bow he took aim and pulled back on the string. He stepped out of his hiding spot ready to shoot, only to let out a sigh. He lowered his bow and put the arrow back in its quiver when he recognized the red curls that belonged to his sister.

"You shouldn't be wandering around Mira." He chastised, stepping towards her. "I could have killed you.

"Well it's a good thing I am not wandering." She retorted, staring him down, "And I highly doubt that brother, I saw you long before you even heard me coming."

Rolling his eyes he said, "What are you doing then? You should be resting, we need to get moving soon."

"I was scouting our path as sleep would not come to me last night." She said, her eyes nervously scanning up ahead she gave him an intense look, "We need to wait a little longer before we leave camp."

Faramir sighed, and they began to walk back to their camp. "You shouldn't be scouting alone Mira, you could have been caught, or killed. Next time let someone know, and at least take one of the men with you. Boromir would never forgive me if I let you die under my command…"

"Huron saw me leave, besides I am quicker alone." She reasoned. Faramir clenched his jaw, there was no winning with his sister, she was right, she was quick, though he wished she would not be so reckless. He would never forgive himself if something happened to her on his watch.

"Faramir…" she continued, the leaves crunching beneath their feet as they walked side by side. "...the orcs. They are closer than we originally thought, not but an hour ahead… we need to wait here a little longer, allow the distance to grow, or this will be for nought."

Mirawen had done more than enough to prove her worth these past few years, not just as healer, but as an able fighter, and strategist. She was a quick thinker, and able to see the bigger picture. This plan of attack had been partly her idea, knowing they were heading North from Minas Morgul, she suggested they send a group out to get around and behind the enemy, surrounding them. Boromir had admitted to Faramir he wished he had thought of it himself, though he would never say it to his sister, lest her head grow as big as an oliphant's. This was the largest band of orcs they would face in several years, the largest Mirawen had ever seen.

"Come, we should tell the others. You should rest when we get back sister." Though Faramir had been upset with his sister for going off alone, he was grateful. Had Mira not gone scouting, they would have resumed their pace, finding themselves in an open battle, far from where they needed to be, and their plan would have failed.

Back at their small campsite, they reported Mirawen's findings to the men.

"Take rest, we leave in an hour. Once we leave, we do not stop. I know you are all weary… but it is almost done." Faramir addressed the group before entering his own tent to get some sleep himself.

Mirawen had done more than enough to prove her worth these past few years, he thought to himself, as he lay down on his bedroll to get some rest, if only for a little while. Not only as a healer, the original purpose of her being here, but also as an able fighter, and a keen thinker, which made her quite the strategist. This plan of attack had been partly her idea, from what they had knew, the orcs were heading North from Minas Morgul, their numbers were great, far greater than they'd faced in many years. Mirawen had suggested that they send another group around the enemy, get behind them and attack them from both sides, trapping them in the process.

Boromir had admitted to him that he wished he had thought of it himself, though he would never say it to their sister, "...lest her head grow as large as an Oliphant's!" Boromir had said, the two of them laughing heartily. Faramir's thoughts drifted off and lulled him into a light slumber, only to be awoken not an hour later. As soon as their makeshift camp was packed away, they were off, weapons at the ready.

Boromir stood at the far end of the field, breathing in the air that smelled of iron from the blood soaked field, and he observed his men working around him. The plan had been a success, and all three hundred orcs lay slaughtered in the field, those that had managed to escape the fray, were swiftly taken out by the archers who waited, hidden in the trees and the rocks of the mountain. They were not without their own casualties of course, those who were able, worked to pile the carcuses and set fire to them, while others were directed to carry their own dead back to their headquarters for a proper burial.

Scanning the field, his eyes landed on Mirawen, who could be seen giving orders to her small team of healers as they tended to the wounded men, setting up a triage system to prioritize the injuries. It was something she had come up with after her third round in the field two years ago; it was a carefully thought out system designed to help decide which wounds were more urgent. While the trained healers would tend to the severely wounded, the soldiers with some skill would treat the others until the healers could get to them.

"It's impressive, is it not?" Faramir said, approaching his older brother.

"Hmm?" Boromir said, his eyes never leaving his sister.

"Mira." Faramir answered, nodding his head in her direction.

Boromir had to admit, it was. He'd had his doubts at first, arguing with his father over his sister many times, he had thought she would be a burden. He'd told Mirawen so himself, during an argument of their own and in the heat of the moment he let the words slip. But he came to regret them as soon as they left his mouth when he saw the hurt look on his sister's face. Mira had been determined to prove Boromir wrong, and she worked twice as hard as any of the men to prove to them she belonged there.

It hadn't been easy, the first year, getting used to the terrain, and constant travel in poor conditions with limited food and water was hard enough, yet getting the approval of the men and her brothers had proven to be just as big of a challenge. The men didn't want a woman in their midst, most had the same mindset as their Captain, thinking of her as a burden. Faramir, who had come around quicker than most, often came to his sister's defence, and no one dared to say anything about her in front of him. For the men, it wasn't until they saw her in action, tending to their wounds and saving many of their lives in the process, that the rest saw what Faramir already knew.

She was resourceful, they had noticed; if she ran out of supplies while they were travelling, she was able to use things she found in the forest to work as makeshift splints or wrappings if needed. Mirawen would also pass on her knowledge to the soldiers who held some skill in healing, teaching them how to make salves and other medicines from the plants they found in the forest. Boromir had come around eventually to, especially once he saw that the number of their losses had lessened since she had joined their ranks, and that number became even more significant after the other healers began to join them.

"This plan almost failed you know, if not for her… more of us would be dead." Faramir continued, explaining to Boromir how she had gone scouting the previous night.

Boromir snapped his head to his younger brother, a look of anger crossed his face. "You let her go scouting on her own!?" He exclaimed through gritted teeth, "She could have been seen! She could have been killed! I expected you to keep watch on her, to make sure she stays in your sight!"

"You and I both know she is too much like you brother." Faramir said staring his older brother down, arms crossed.

Once Boromir calmed down, Faramir added, "You are both stubborn as a mule."

They both turned to watch their sister once more, and laughed together. Boromir silently agreeing with his younger brother, his sister was as stubborn as he was for certain.

"She's going to send me to an early grave with all this worrying." Boromir stated, his eyes fixated on the redhead who stuck out like a sore thumb in a field of men.

"You need to stop worrying so much about her Boromir. She's proved she does just fine taking care of herself out here all these years." Faramir said, concerned eyes watching his older brother.

Boromir turned to face him then, clasping his gloved hand onto Faramir's shoulder. "I know all of this brother, but I will never stop worrying about her." With that he turned and walked away, leaving Faramir to stand watch alone.

Hours later, the wounded had been moved into the headquarters at Henneth Anun, where they had set up an infirmary, it wasn't as impressive as the Healing Houses of Minas Tirith, but it had what they needed. Mirawen scrubbed the dirt and blood off her hands in a small basin of water, her body aching. Once her hands were clean, she went to check on their stores, as she wanted to have an updated list to bring with her; at dawn she would be returning to Minas Tirith with a small group, along with six wounded men to deliver to the Houses of Healing.

Picking up items of the shelf and doing some quick math in her head, she wrote down the amounts she would need to bring back with her. Lost in her thoughts she was startled when she heard a voice from behind her.

"Do you ever rest sister?" She turned around to see Boromir leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed.

She smiled at him warmly before returning to her notes, and shrugged, gesturing at the shelves around the room, "We need more supplies."

There was an awkward silence, and Boromir took a step forward, entering the small room he said, "Faramir tells me we have you to thank…"

Mirawen did not look away from the storage shelves and Boromir continued, "Mira… I know we've had our differences these past few years… I want you to know I'm proud of you. You belong out here… with us, I'm sorry it took me so long, and I needed to know you knew that."

"We should not dwell on the past Boromir." She said to him calmly, "...we must keep moving forward, it is the only way we'll win this war. We keep winning all these battles… but the war is far from over… I sense this is only the beginnings of an even bigger threat… of what is yet to come."

Her eyes downcast, she picked up an empty jar that was once full of bandages, she sighed and showed Boromir her list, "... our supplies are dwindling faster these days."

His eyes scanned her notes, and he looked up at the shelves, they were out of most things. Running his hand through his hair to get it out of his face he sighed, "The battles we fight seem to be getting closer and closer together these days… the men don't have enough time to recuperate." Boromir said, and he pulled his sister into a hug, his head resting on top of hers. "... I sense it to sister. Something bigger is coming... I feel it in my heart and it shakes me to my core. We will face it together, you, me, and Faramir. Just like we always have done."

"I'll bring back more this time…" A thought came to her then, "...perhaps I can work out some sort of delivery system with the Warden, this would save us time, and the bodies we would have to send. We can store it at Osgiliath, before bringing it here."

Pulling away from the embrace his put his hands on his sister's shoulders and leveled his head with hers. Smiling he said, "We will see it done sister."

An hour before dawn the next day, Mirawen could be found brushing out Argo's mane in the stable. She woke early, as she was anxious to return to Minas Tirith. Turning her head slightly, she saw the shadowy form of her oldest brother out of the corner of her eye.

"What are you doing up so early?" She asked him without turning around.

"I could ask you the same." He said approaching her. "It would seem you are anxious to get back."

She turned her head to face him, looking up to see him staring down at her, his eyebrow raised. Smirking he said, "...perhaps, you are anxious to see a certain someone."

Her face went hot, it was true, and her mind flashed to the handsome man she had waiting for her back home. "I just want to leave on time is all." She answered him cooly, avoiding his eye contact.

"Tis nothing to hide from me sister, I quite like the boy." He said, earning him a shy smile from his younger sister, he could see her cheeks were pink from the torchlights.

Mirawen was not one to discuss her romantic relationship with Edwin, especially not with her brothers. "Then yes… I am excited to see him. I miss him."

Stepping forward, Boromir picked up the saddle to help his sister finish tacking her horse.

"I am certain he is more excited." He said as he placed the saddle on Argo's back, "It has been awhile since you've been home Mira… send one of the others back with the supplies. Stay a little longer… it is rare, a gift, that you share with Edwin. In times like these… where we know not how much time we have… it is important… stay a little longer, and spend some time at home, with him."

Mirawen put down the brush as she considered her brother's words, and Argo let out a neigh.

"See, even your horse agrees with me." Boromir laughed patting Argo's neck. "I would be so lucky to have someone waiting for me."

Mirawen smirked up at her brother, and teasing him she said, "That's because you are married to your sword dear brother, and the battlefield is your mistress. I know many women in Minas Tirith who would be more than happy to warm your bed while waiting for the Captain of Gondor's armies."

Boromir simply shrugged, no longer taken aback by her forwardness, she had been around the men so long sometimes she began to talk like them, though she was able to act the role of noble woman when she needed to.

He handed her a sealed scroll. "What is this?" she asked.

"For the Warden. A formal request to begin a delivery schedule as soon as possible. I need you to bring this to father to sign before presenting it to him." Mirawen smiled at her brother and hugged him, murmuring a muffled "thank you" into his chest. "I told you we would see it done." He said, kissing the top of his sister's head.

Outside the sky lightened, and Mirawen held out an apple for her horse. "Here boy." She said, her own stomach grumbling. "I will be back soon."

Together her and Boromir left for the mess hall in search of some breakfast. A short while later he escorted her back to the stable where a few of her travel companions were busy saddling their own horses. Once everyone was ready, she mounted her own horse, and led them to the westmost exit that would take them to the bridge and lead them home.

Turning to look at her brother she said, "Won't you need me back here?"

"We have plenty of help on our front, we will be just fine without you for a few months." He said smiling at her.

She counted heads to make sure everyone who would be riding back with her was present. The wounded, all accounted for, were secure in their wagons, and wrapped in furs to keep warm.

"Safe travels." Boromir said.

Smiling at her brother she said in return, "Stay safe."

The sun rising higher in the sky, the small group took off, the hooves of the horses echoing through the mountains.

When they had crossed the river, they had a momentary rest at the old city of Osgiliath. Other than a small military garrison, the former capital of Gondor was completely abandoned. It lay in ruins after being burned during a siege-war centuries past, what was left of it now was their last line of defence between the King's City and the enemy on the eastern side of the Anduin river. There was always a group of men ready to hold it, for if Osgiliath were to fall, the enemy would have easy access into the realm of Gondor, and a siege-war against the mountain city of Minas Tirith, would surely follow.

They did not linger for long, as soon as Mirawen and the other healer finished checking over the wounded, they declared they should leave with haste. Several hours after they left their headquarters east of the river, they crossing the fields of Pelennor, the White City in their sites.

Mirawen smiled as they got closer to the stone city, her heart beat with longing. It had been eight months since she had seen Edwin last, her heart aching more each day as she yearned to be with him. Edwin's injury never fully healed, much to his dismay. Ioreth had explained to them that there had been substantial damage to the nerves and muscles in his leg. He would never be a ranger again, and her heart broke for him.

They'd fought, the first time she chose to return to the field, Edwin had felt bitter and wanted her to stay back with him, but in her heart she knew she belonged in the field, it was where she thrived. When she had returned four months later he apologized and all was well, it had taken him some time and reflecting, but he had decided he would be happy assisting his father in the training yard. Berin was getting older and would not be able to do it forever, and Edwin's leg would only be a disability to him in the field. He was content that he was still able to be of use to Gondor, though it was not in the way he had originally dreamed of.

As they approached the city, the main gate opened allowing them entry into Minas Tirith. Heads peered out of their homes as they heard the cluster of hooves against the stone roads, and those on the street moved out of the way allowing them to pass. They did not slow down until they reached the healing houses. Mirawen could spot Ioreth and a few others waiting for them, as soon as she pulled Argo to a halt, she hopped off her horse and handed the reins to a nearby stable boy. Calling out directions to the men who travelled with her, she approached her former mentor and the Warden, briefing the healers on the wounded they had brung them.

Once the men were settled in the Healing Houses, the Warden dismissed her, knowing she would be travel-weary. Edwin would be busy in the training yard, so Mirawen decided she would find her father first. Making her way through the halls, she stopped at door she knew he would be behind and knocked. Entering his study, she presented him with the scroll as per Boromir's request, without speaking to her, he read the words in his son's writing and signed his name at the bottom. Mirawen thanked him, and made her way back to the Houses of Healing, where she found the Warden and handed him the scroll signed by Lord Denethor. She explained their dire situation when it came to their stores and handed him the list she had composed. Informing him that she would be staying in Minas Tirith, and that Thendir would be returning to Henneth Anun with the supplies in two days time.

As soon as the Warden dismissed her she all but ran to the training yard. A confused look crossed her face when she didn't see Edwin, and for a moment she felt worried. Berin approached her then, with a knowing look on his face. It had taken the man a while to warm up to the idea of his son courting the Steward's daughter, but ultimately he approved. Her own father had never said anything to her, she did not even know if he knew.

"Lady Mirawen." He greeted, bowing his head slightly, and with a smile and a wink, said "He is in the armoury."

She thanked him and took off, this time in a brisk walk. As she reached the archway that led into the armoury, she could hear the sound of a sanding stone being rubbed against wood. Stepping inside quietly, his back was turned to her, as he worked on smoothing out the training swords.

"You keep at it like that and they will become not but twigs." She said, alerting him to her presence.

Edwin's shoulders tensed, and he slowly turned around at the sound of her voice. He had to do a double take, as if he was seeing a ghost, before his mind caught up with him and he stood up, dropping the wooden sword to the floor with a clunk. Without grabbing his walking stick, he limped towards her, and Mirawen stepped forward herself to close the distance between him. He held a look of disbelief, as he stroked her hair, and ran his hands along her shoulders to make sure she was actually there in front of him. Cupping his hands around her face, he pulled her into him and kissed her tenderly on the mouth. Mirawen wrapped her arms around his neck in response and sighed into the kiss, she was home.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, and for the new reviews and follows! I'm so glad people have enjoyed the story thus far, we are only two chapters away from entering into the main storyline! Next chapter will be up sometime next week!

Until next time,

-Buttercup.