[A/N: Thanks for all of the support! It means a lot to me whenever I see a review that says anything along the lines of, "I want to read more of this story". It's thanks to you guys that I have the inspiration and drive to keep writing and posting :)]

Aragorn was the first to see the nearest beacon's blaze of light. He raced to the Golden Hall and burst through the doors, interrupting Theoden's exchange with some of his officers.

"The beacons of Minas Tirith!" he exclaimed, almost out of breath. "The beacons are lit! Gondor calls for aid."

There was a tense moment of silence, during which Theoden looked around at Gamling, Eomer, the other men, and the members of the Fellowship who were present- Legolas, Gimli, Rachel, and Ariel.

Finally, the king spoke. "And Rohan will answer! Muster the Rohirrim."

Eomer bowed to him and left to do as ordered. Theoden outfitted himself in full armor and then met Eomer outside again.

"Assemble the army at Dunharrow; as many men as can be found. You have two days," Theoden told him, He grabbed Eomer by the shoulder. "On the third, we ride for Gondor… and war."

Eomer nodded and waved at some men. "Forward!"

"Very good, sir," a soldier replied. Theoden watched the proceedings with approval. "Gamling."

"My lord!" Gamling stood at attention while Theoden approached him.

"Make haste across the Riddermark. Summon every able-bodied man to Dunharrow."

"I will."

While the men made ready to leave, Aragorn found himself tending to his horse beside Eowyn.

"Do you ride with us?" he asked cordially.

"Just to the encampment," Eowyn said, her eyes darting to her saddlebags and away quickly. "It's tradition for the women of the court to farewell the men."

Aragorn lifted a blanket that was draped over her saddlebags to reveal her sword. Eowyn's eyes widened, and she snatched it down, hiding the sword. Aragorn gave her a knowing look, but she ignored it.

"The men have found their captain. They will follow you into battle; even to death. You have given us hope." She smiled at him, and Aragorn walked away uneasily. He passed Merry, who was approaching Theoden confidently.

The hobbit held out his sword in both hands and cleared his throat. "Excuse me!"

Theoden looked around, confused, before lowering his gaze and realizing that Merry was the one who had spoken.

"I have a sword. Please accept it!" Merry knelt before the king. "I offer you my service, Theoden King."

Theoden smiled and helped Merry rise. "And gladly, I accept it. You shall be Meriadoc, esquire of Rohan."

Merry smiled gleefully and went off, preparing to leave with everyone else. He had been given a small horse, barely larger than a pony. He mounted up and tried to get it to move.

Ariel and Rachel rode up beside him on horses of their own. "You all right there, Merry?" Ariel asked, trying not to smile.

Merry nodded bravely. "Of course! I'm a Hobbit, after all." He finally got the horse to move, and rode alongside Ariel towards the rest of the riders. Rachel separated from them for a moment, and rode towards Eowyn, who had just gotten onto her horse.

She took a deep breath before speaking. It wasn't easy for her, since Eowyn was far from being her favorite character. But, since she actually existed... "I know what you're planning," Rachel began, "and I'm not here to try to stop you from doing it. I just wanted to say that I respect you, and I know that you're a strong person. And you'll find happiness, but maybe not where you expect... so don't give up hope."

Eowyn regarded her carefully before replying. "Thank you... I think."

Several paces away, Theoden gazed off into the distance upon his own steed. "So... it is before the walls of Minas Tirith the doom of our time will be decided."

"Now is the hour, Riders of Rohan," Eomer shouted. "Oaths you have taken. Now fulfill them all, to Lord and Land! Hah!"

The riders galloped off together, towards battle and certain death.

The soldiers of Gondor fled Osgiliath, being pursued viciously by the winged beasts and wraiths.

"Keep going! It's the Nazgul. Take cover, my lord!" a soldier shouted to Faramir. The Nazgul swooped down in arcs and snatched up men and horses alike, crunching them in the beasts' claws, and then lifting them high into the air, dropping them back down to certain death.

Right when they thought they would never make it back to the citadel, a lone rider bathed in white light began thundering towards the squadron of men. They knew instantly who it was.

"It's Mithrandir! The White Rider!"

Gandalf sped towards the men and sent a bright light forth from his staff, which drove the Nazgul away, shrieking and cowering. The wizard cantered around and led the soldiers back to Minas Tirith, safely through the gates.

"Mithrandir!" Faramir exclaimed when he had a chance to speak. Gandalf turned Shadowfax around to face him, and Pippin watched from where he was seated in front of Gandalf. "They broke through our defenses. They've taken the bridge and the West bank- battalions of Orcs are crossing the river."

"It is as the Lord Denethor predicted," one of Denethor's advisors cried. "Long has he foreseen this doom!"

"Foreseen and done nothing!" Gandalf spat. He watched Faramir's gaze shift to Pippin. "Faramir? This is not the first Halfling to have crossed your path," Gandalf observed.

Faramir shook his head. "No."

"You've seen Frodo and Sam?" Pippin asked, eyes wide.

"Where?" Gandalf pressed. "When?"

"In Ithilien, not two days ago. Gandalf, they're taking the road to the Morgul Vale," Faramir told him solemnly.

Gandalf's expression was one of horror. "And then the pass of Cirith Ungol," he muttered. Faramir nodded in affirmation.

"What does that mean? What's wrong?" Pippin asked worriedly. He glanced up at Gandalf, who was still looking at Faramir.

"Faramir, tell me everything," Gandalf said. "Tell me all you know."

"This is how you would serve your city? You would risk its utter ruin?" Denethor demanded after Faramir had given his full report. The steward held a disgusted expression on his face.

"I did what I judged to be right," Faramir said haltingly.

"What you judged to be right!" Denethor hissed. "You sent the Ring of Power into Mordor in the hands of a witless Halfling! It should have been brought back to the citadel to be kept safe; hidden. Dark and deep in the vaults... not to be used." His expression flickered eerily. "Unless, at the uttermost end of need."

"I would not use the Ring," Faramir said firmly. "Not if Minas Tirith were falling in ruin and I alone could save her."

"Ever you desire to appear lordly and gracious as a King of old," Denethor mocked him. "Boromir would have remembered his father's need. He would have brought me a kingly gift."

"Boromir would not have brought the Ring. He would have stretched out his hand to this thing, and, taking it, he would have fallen."

"You know nothing of this matter!" Denethor raged on.

"He would have kept it for his own. And when he returned, you would not have known your son." Faramir's face was grim.

"Boromir was loyal to me!" Denethor shrieked, rushing at Faramir. "Not some wizard's pupil!" The steward stumbled and fell back against his chair.

"Father?" Faramir took a slow step forward as Denethor gazed up at him, full of grief yet with a sadistic smile upon his lips.

"My son!" Denethor shouted, looking past Faramir as though Boromir were standing there. The vision faded away, and Denethor was filled with first sadness, and then hate as he glared at Faramir. "Leave me!"

Faramir turned stiffly and did as his father commanded.

Pippin sat upon a bench within the citadel, his feet swinging because the seat was too high for him. He was fully decked out in his uniform as a new Guard of the Citadel. "What were you thinking, Peregrin Took? What service can a Hobbit offer such a great lord of men?"

"It was well done," Faramir assured him, approaching through the hallway. "A generous deed should not be checked with cold counsel." Pippin jumped to his feet as Faramir reached him and stood still. "You are to join the tower guard," Faramir observed.

Pippin looked down at himself. "I didn't think they would find any livery that would fit me."

"It once belonged to a young boy of the city," Faramir said, smiling faintly. "A very foolish one, who wasted many hours slaying dragons instead of attending his studies."

"This was yours?" Pippin asked, smiling.

"Yes, it was mine. My father had it made for me." Faramir reached down and adjusted the shoulders of Pippin's tunic.

"Well, I'm taller than you were then," Pippin pointed out. "Though, I'm not likely to grow anymore, except sideways."

They laughed together for a moment, before Faramir sobered up again. "It never fitted me either. Boromir was always the soldier. They were so alike, he and my father... Proud, stubborn even, but strong."

"I think you have strength of a different kind. And one day your father will see it," Pippin said softly. Faramir smiled at him, right as Elizabeth entered the hall where they were talking.

"Oh... Am I interrupting you guys?"

"Not at all," Faramir assured her, his face lighting up at the sight of her. "It is good to see you well, Elizabeth. You look..." he trailed off, taking in what she looked like when she was all cleaned up and clothed in a dress befitting a proper Gondorian lady.

"I'm glad you're okay, too," Elizabeth said kindly. She watched Faramir's face, thinking of the fate that awaited him. "Thank you again for helping me to get here."

"I fear that the city may not remain safe for much longer," Faramir admitted, speaking to the both of them. "But, for now, I am glad that it is a place where you can find refuge. Elizabeth, if the battle takes a turn for the worse... Please, stay here, in the citadel. It is the most secure building in Gondor. Will you do that?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes." It was very touching, that Faramir cared so much about her well-being. The least she could do was heed his wishes, and try not to get in the way of established events. The last thing she wanted was to negatively affect anything that would be happening very soon in Gondor.