Disclaimer: It's called a 'disclaimer' for a reason…obviously, not mine. Otherwise there would have been more frisky scenes than an HBO program…But I digress.
A/N: Apologies for the delay. And the short chapter. I suck. I also moved to South Korea. Now read (please…?)
'My lord, we look at you
As we might look at
A peacock
You are framed by something sublime
Similar to
Hope, worship, and fear'
~Tite Kubo
Water splashed up, staining Rem's skirts. She paid it no mind, instead gritting her teeth as she clung like a limpet to her half-brother. Ordinarily, she would feel a bit guilty in how painfully tight her grip was. But right now, she hoped he was beginning to rue his agreement in escorting her.
"We have just passed into the realm of Gondor," Gandalf's voice was barely perceptible over the wind. It was a miracle they hadn't lost sight of him throughout the journey. Still, Rem had a sneaking suspicion that, in spite of their hurry, the Gray Pilgrim was loathe to leave them to their own devices. Especially with the threat of Mordor closer than ever before.
She really didn't mind, though. The idea of being lost in the wilderness with none other than Ansel didn't sit well in her stomach. Gandalf and Pippin, however far ahead their silhouettes might stretch, were a balm against that horrifyingly awkward possibility.
The White City rose before them, and Rem had to catch her breath at the sight. For a moment, she was distracted from her physical discomfort in riding a horse. She stared, awestruck as she took in the white towers and great walls.
"Holy shit!" She murmured. Evidently, she didn't say it quietly enough, as Ansel's back stiffened at her words. Rolling her eyes, she didn't deign to comment further.
Already ahead once more, dShadowfax disappeared beyond the gates of Minas Tirith.
"You must only speak when spoken to," she cringed; Ansel's voice was like sandpaper against her skin.
"Just in front of Denethor, or does that apply twenty-four seven to anyone with a penis?" She bit out acerbically. Their mount tore across the grass, ripping into the dirt as they approached the great city. He crushed out a sigh, clearly irritated, if not scandalized by her vulgarity.
"For once, do as you're told."
"Yes, Mom." She snapped. Her voice was lost as their horse's hooves clattered against the stone paths of the street.
In spite of her irritability, butterflies lined the pit of her stomach. The last free city of men was much grander than she could ever have imagined. It made her feel like a peasant, in spite of being nothing of the sort. Or so she told herself, at any rate. She wasn't quite sure what her social ranking was…not counting the technical one earned by her marital status, at least. Much as she was loathe to admit it, keeping her mouth shut so she could avoid pissing off the wrong person wasn't too bad of advice. Not that I will EVER say that aloud, she thought grimly.
Her stomach lurched as they came to a standstill, having arrived at the doors of their destination. Ansel dismounted smoothly, then impatiently awaited to assist Rem. Sticking her nose in the air, she imperiously ignored his expectant hand, pretending she could dismount on her own. She fucked up, of course. Nearly smashing her face into his chest when her boot refused to easily slip the stirrup.
Her brother muffled a curse as she fought to maintain her dignity. He glared down at her, whilst she donned the most innocent of facial expressions. Her humiliated blush probably gave her away.
"Gandalf! Rem! It's the tree!" She briefly shut her eyes, grateful for Pippin's unknowing distraction. A heartbeat later, she had to bite her tongue to keep from smirking. Pippin hadn't shouted Ansel's name, something not gone unnoticed given his unpleasant scowl.
"Yes the white tree of Gondor. The tree of the King." Gandalf interrupted. "Lord Denethor, however, is not the King. He is a steward only, a caretaker of the throne."
Rem tripped as she hurried after her companions, leaving Ansel trailing in her wake.
"Now listen carefully, the both of you. Lord Denethor is Boromir's father. To give him news of his beloved son's death would be most unwise. And do not mention Frodo or the Ring. And say nothing of Aragorn either." Gandalf paused, mind working quicker than Rem's tongue, "In fact, its better if you don't speak at all." His eyes flickered over the two of them, indicating the importance of the command. She offered up her hands, palms out to plea innocence.
"Hey, don't look at me. I—"
"Since your coming, Rembrance, you have sought nothing less than to challenge the events of this world." His tone was brusque, hitting Rem straight in the gut as ice crawled up her veins. "As you have proved unsuccessful thus far, I would suggest not further testing fate with your indulgent behavior." Pippin raised his eyebrows at this, his mouth popping open like a codfish. Though it wasn't clear if it was his intention to offer comment or to question. However, Gandalf had opened the doors, ushering the four of them in before either possibility could leave his lips.
Before Rem had taken her second step, Ansel had a sudden firm grip on her arm. She staggered, surprised by his hand on her person. It wasn't a painful hold, but dominating and distasteful nonetheless. Strangely, Gandalf didn't seem to notice, nor Pippin as he skittered after the wizard.
"Hail Denethor, son of Ecthelion, Lord and Steward of Gondor."
"Let go!" She hissed quietly out of the side of her mouth. He offered no reply, though his grip loosened a bit. She rolled her eyes. Ass-wipe.
"I come with tidings in this dark hour and with counsel."
"Perhaps," the voice sounded rough, like silk over gravel, "You come to explain this." Denthor's robes were pushed aside, revealing the hewn horn that was thought to still be lain with their fallen comrade. Rem felt her stomach drop, anxiety prickling her skin, though she had known this was coming. "Perhaps you come to to tell me why my son is dead." There was a strain in his tone, like the silk of his voice was being ripped as a sob threatened.
"Boromir died to save us," Pippin gestured to himself and Rem, making her suddenly wish she could disappear into the floor. "And my kinsman and me. He fell defending us from many foes." He started forward, kneeling before the throne. Gandalf looked tense, as though he were mere moments from dragging Pippin across the marble of the throne room and out the door.
"Pippin." The Hobbit didn't hear him, or else chose to ignore the scandalized wizard at his back. Rem still wanted to run. For once, she couldn't think of what to say.
"I offer you my service, such as it is in payment of this debt," Pippin's words trembled, though so laced with sincerity any could overlook such a detail. There was a heavy pause, in which the Steward of Gondor's gaze flickered to Rem.
Maybe she imagined it, but it almost seemed like he was waiting for something. Like he expected her to follow Pippin's example. But she remained stone, instinctively knowing that look he gave her didn't portend well. Somehow knew that being in his service was literally the last thing that portended well for her safety.
The moment passed, as did his look. And as it did, she felt a heavy weight fall away as his flinty eyes fell upon the Hobbit still kneeling before his throne. Maybe she imagined it. Maybe he was just curious as to who she was…but her gut clenched and insisted she was not safe while in reach of this man. She filed that away for later, grateful to fade back into the background as events continued on their course. Unwittingly, she clung tighter to Ansel.
"This is my first command to you. How did you escape and my son did not? Mighty as man as he was."
"The mightiest man may be slain by one arrow," Pippin returned quietly, "and Boromir was pierced by many." Gandalf's staff smacking into Pippin roused the Hobbit from his earnest gesture, and he scrambled to his feet.
"Get up!" he cleared his throat, returning to the matter at hand. " My lord, there will be a time to grieve for Boromir, but it is not now. War is coming. The enemy is on your doorstep. As steward, you are charged with defense of this city. Where are Gondor's armies? You still have friends. You are not alone in this fight. Send word to Theóden of Rohan. Light the beacons."
Denethor's lip curled, disgust near dripping from his expression. "You think you are wise, Mithrandir. Yet for all your subtleties you have not wisdom. Do you think the eyes of the White Tower are blind? I have seen more than you know. With your left hand you would use me as a shield against Mordor and with your right you would seek to supplant me. I know who rides with Theóden of Rohan. Oh yes, word has reached my ears of this Aragorn, song of Arathorn. And I tell you now, I will not bow to this Ranger from the North. Last of a ragged house long bereft of Lordship." There was acid in his tone.
Gandalf seemed to snap, "Authority is not given to you to deny the return of the King, Steward!" Denethor arose, thunderous, his eyes flickering once again across what felt like Rem's flesh. Oh shit. Oh shitohshitohshit….he knows. He fucking knows who I am because of that damn Palantir….fuck…She actually flinched when she felt Ansel squeezing her hand in return. She had been clinging to him again. I have to tell Gandalf…
"The rule of Gondor is mine and no others!" The wizard and steward leveled angry gazes at one another, while Rem, Ansel, and Pippin looked on. Suddenly, Gandalf turned, heading rapidly for the door.
"Come!" Rem and Pippin scrambled after him, Ansel allowing his half-sister to slip from his already waning grip. He cautiously cast a look to the steward before following after his companions. Rem couldn't get out of the throne room soon enough. She felt phantom eyes burning into her back, and she refused to turn to negate their existence.
"All had turned to vain ambition," Gandalf muttered angrily, " He would use even his grief as a cloak! A thousand years this city has stood and now at the whim of a madman it will fall! And the white three, the three of the King will never bloom again." They walked through the courtyard, past the tree.
"Gandalf," Rem's voice sounded squeaky and panicked to her own ears, so she cleared her throat and tried again, "Gandalf, he knew…I mean, he knows…the way he looked at me…" She trailed off as his eyes calmed and looked into her own.
"That seems a distinct possibility…"the wizard admitted, contemplatively.
"What does that then mean?" Ansel had joined the conversation.
"That you should not leave your kindred alone in his company." Rem shot her half-brother a glance, and surprised all by shrugging. Gandalf nodded, satisfied.
"Fair enough." Ansel looked as though he were to speak, as if to question the ease with which she acquiesced, but was interrupted before he could utter a word.
"Why are they still guarding it? The tree…?"
"The guard it because they have hope. A faint and fading hope that one day it will flower. That a king will come and this city will be as it once was before it fell into decay…The old wisdom born out of the west was forsaken. Kings made tombs more splendid than houses of the living and counted the old names of their descent dearer than the names of their sons…"
"Not daughters?" Put in Rem. Gandalf slanted her a look, but chose not to comment. Maybe she imagined it, but a fey humor might have glinted in his eye.
"Childless lords sat in aged halls musing on heraldry or high in cold towers, asking questions of the stars. And so the people of Gondor fell into ruin. The line of kings failed. The white tree whithered. The rule of Gondor was given over to lesser men."
Lightening crackled in the distance, drawing their attention to the black clouds and violent threat of the black lands in the distance.
"Mordor," Pippin breathed.
"Shit." Rem muttered. She earned a glance at the vulgar sentiment. She couldn't bring herself to care at the moment. She hadn't expected the land of the enemy would actually lay so close. Maybe more like the next valley over. She widened her eyes, trying to affect an innocence expression. "What…? You can't tell me you're thrilled it's so close, too." Anself actually rolled his eyes. Gandalf sighed.
"Yes, there it lies. This city has dwelt ever in the sight of its shadow."
"More like nightmare," Rem mumbled. She was ignored.
"A storm is coming," said Pippin.
"This is not the weather of the world. This is a device of Sauron's making. A broil of fume he sends ahead of his hose. The Orcs of Mordor have no love of daylight, so he covers the face of the sun to ease their passage along the road to war. When the shadow of Mordor reaches this city, it will begin."
Pippin blanched, but Rem managed to look fairly despondent, for her part. She knew there was no escape. Ansel's grim look showed that he understood this as well. Pippin tried for it anyway.
"Well…Minas Tirith…very impressive. So…where to next?"
"Oh, it's too late for that, Peregrin. There's no leaving this city. Help must come to us."
Rem stepped away from them, out of Ansel's reach, and crossed her arms across her ample chest. Deep down, Rem knew she wasn't really being fair in her treatment of Ansel. Back in the throne room, when she had squeezed his hand, she had felt him squeeze her reassuringly back. But the tender moment had passed, and she clung now to her previous feelings of mistrust and upset.
She knew most of her anger toward her half-brother was in fact a misdirection of her actual feelings. She was pissed at their father. She was pissed at Saruman. And…she missed her husband. Strange to think of the Elf in that context. Marriage was all still so new…
Still, as she gazed out across the land toward the shadow of ash and cloud that slithered toward them, she could feel his hurt eyes lingering upon her person.
"Fantastic," She muttered. You're a bitch, Rem…She bit her lip, pretending she wasn't acting like the pretentious brat Legolas used to accuse her of being. Right now, she knew she was acting like one. And whatever her feelings in regards to her only kin in this world, time was running out. Time was running out for all of them. You need to start writing...
A/N CONCERNING LONG ABSENCE: I'm terribly sorry for the long delay in updates. But I actually have a good reason: I have moved half-way around the world to South Korea in order to be an ESL teacher.
Scary thought, right? Me, teaching English…But rest assured! My writing isn't as terrible as my actual teaching of the language. Cross my heart and hope to cry.
At any rate, getting the paperwork together for the excursion was a bit of a nightmare. It also took quite a bit of time. I lost five pounds from the stress, but I think it's all worth it! As I begin to balance lesson-planning, teaching, and exploring my new environment, I promise I will continue to see this fanfiction through to the very end.
Thank you all for your continuing support! Please keep reading and reviewing! I will keep writing! That's what weekends are for, right?
