Osgiliath had seen better days. We had managed to hold the defenses against the ever-continuing parades of Orcs that continued to flood the city. But when the Nazgul came, we were no match for them, the cries of the Fell Beasts causing my men to cover their ears whenever they sounded. The snatched my men off the ground and carried them into the air or crushing them with their talons. Then the Orcs came in greater numbers from the river, taking the city from our hold.

"Fall back!" I called to my men, knowing we had been overrun. "Fall back to Minas Tirith!" My subordinates called for retreat. Even my right hand man had been taken down. Half of us managed to escape the city onto Pelenor where the Nazgul continued to chase us.

We were saved by a bright light in the distance, serving as a beacon that drove the Nazgul back to their lair. I saw the bearer of the light to be Mithrandir, only he looked different than I last saw him. But I could not dwell on these inconsistencies now. The gate to Minas Tirith drew closer and closer, until my men and I were safely inside.

I took a moment to catch my breath before approaching the Wizard. "Mithrandir," I called to him. "They broke our defenses. They've taken the bridge and the west bank. Battalions of Orcs are crossing the river."

"It is as Lord Denathor predicted," Irolas, one of my soldiers called. "Long has he foreseen this doom."

"Foreseen and done nothing," Mithrandir said.

In the shift of his horse, I noticed a Halfling straddling his saddle with him for the first time. Odd that I never meet these creatures and another shows up within a week of each other.

"Faramir," Mithrandir says, noticing my gaze on the small creature. "This is not the frist Halfling to have crossed your path."

"No," I admitted, shaking my head.

"You're the Man who brought Kristen to Gondor," the Hobbit cried with glee.

"Yes," I said, wondering why this was of importance.

"I thank you for keeping her safe, Faramir. She has told me that you know of her importance."

I nodded as I heard a familiar shrill voice called out to me. "Faramir!" I turned and saw Kristen running towards me, a girl with long, blonde hair, probably the same age, trailing her. "We saw the Nazgul attack. Are you alright?"

I dismounted my horse. "I am fine, my friend. But the stronghold of Osgiliath is overrun." I turned back to Mithrandir. "I must report this to my father."

"We'll go with you," the blonde girl said.

I shook my head at the stranger. "That is unnecessary. My father already harbors anger for my bringing Kristen to his chair."

"I'm Claire, by the way," the blonde said, waving her hand. I briefly remember Kristen asking me of a girl named Claire after telling her of the rumors from Rohan. I bowed my head to Kristen's friend.


My father did not take the report well. I had never seen his face quite that cross. "This is how you would serve you're city?" he asked. "You would risk its utter ruin?"

"I did what I judged to be right," I defended.

"What you judged to be right? You sent the Ring of Power into Mordor in the hands of a witless Halfling at the urgings of a stupid girl! It should have been brought back to the Citadel to be kept safe, hidden dark and deep within the vaults. Not to be used unless at the utmost end of need."

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

"Ever you desire to appear lordly and gracious as a King of Old. 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 the thing and taking it, he would have fallen."

"You know nothing of this matter."

"He would have kept it for his own," I argued. This is truly what I believe. The thoughts I had in the presence of that band of gold were trying, and I cannot imagine what Boromir, a Man who so desperately craved power, would have done had it landed in his possession. I saw what it had done to Frodo and to Kristen. It most certainly would have destroyed my brother, just as Frodo had said. "And when he returned, you would not have known your son."

"Boromir was loyal to me!" Denathor cried, rising out of his chair. "Not some Wizard's pupil!" He stumbled on his robes then, tripping.

I bent down to help him back up, but an odd look had crossed his face. "Father?" I asked.

He did not answer me. He stared over my shoulder, but I knew there was no one there. "My son," he said softly, standing back up. But soon the look was gone, replaced by the scowl I had become so accustomed to. "Leave me," he growled.


"What was I thinking?" I heard the voice of Mithrandir's Hobbit say from down the hall. "What can a Hobbit offer to such a great leader of Men?"

"Ha, he's not really that great," Claire said. "He's actually pretty crazy."

I rounded the corner and found the Hobbit with Claire and Kristen. They all jumped up from their seats when they heard my steps. The Halfling, whose name I've learned is Pippin, had pledged himself to my father in payment of Boromir's sacrifice to save his life. He was wearing a rather small uniform of Gondor, and I recognized it right away.

"Generous deeds should not be checked with cold council," I said to Pippin. "You're to join the Tower Guard."

"I didn't think they would find any livery that would fit me."

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

"This was yours?" he asked.

I noticed Kristen smile. "Yes, it was mine. My father had it made for me."

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

The four of us chuckled. It was nice to escape war and my father, if only for a moment. "It never fitted me either. Boromir was always the soldier." This thought sent me to a dark place. "They were so alike, he and my father. Proud. Stubborn, even. But strong."

"You are strong," Kristen said. "You did everything you could to hold Osgiliath. You trekked across the Field, getting chased by Nazgul only to keep me safe. And you sent the Ring away."

Her words were kind. It had been three days since I had left her with Wendil. Already she seemed more confident. She held herself higher and smiled more often. Perhaps this was because she had been reunited with her friend. It gave me joy to see that I was able to help her.

"We should go to the Hall," Claire said, breaking my thoughts. "It's probably time for the ceremony."


"Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor in peace or war, in living or dying, from—from this hour henceforth until my lord release me or death take me." Pippin said, bowing before Denathor. I stood to the side with Claire and Kristen, whom my father completely ignored.

"And I shall not forget it," my father said, rising from his chair and placing his hand in front of Pippin's face so the Hobbit could kiss his ring. "Nor fail to reward that which is given. Fealty with love," he continued, sitting down at a table laden with his dinner. "Valor with honor. Disloyalty with vengeance."

He changed the subject now, talking to me. "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.

"I will not yield the River and Pelenor unfought. Osgiliath must be retaken."

"My lord, Osgiliath is overrun."

"Much must be risked in war. Is there a Captain here who still has the courage to do his lord's will?"

Suddenly, it all became clear to me. He had not been speaking to me before the ceremony. He had been wishing for Boromir. I understood now that my father cared not if I lived or died in this war. He had already lost his prize. "You wish now that our places had been exchanged. That I had died and Boromir had lived."

"Yes," he said, taking a drink from his goblet. "I wish that."

My heart seemed to fall from my chest to my stomach. My father didn't even look at me ask he said this, which is what pained me the most. I had lost Boromir and now I had lost my father. Prospects in this war were slim. What was the point of continuing? I could only see one. That my country and city stand while I defend her. "Since you were robbed of Boromir," I said to my father. "I will do what I can in his stead." I started to leave the hall, but turned back one last time. "If I should return, think better of me, Father."

"That will depend on the manner of your return," he mumbled in to his goblet.

I did my best not to run from the hall like a scolded child. I tried to hold my head high and get out of there as soon as possible. My father and I never got along, but never had he treated me like an obligation, something he only put up with.

"Hey!" a shrill voice called to me out in the hall. It was Kristen, her face red. "What did you mean 'if you should return'?"

"Much is ricked in war," I told her. This is not what I meant, but I could not tell her I no longer saw point in continuing to come home. There was no need to worry the girl. She was scared enough by just being near the war. There was no need to bring her closer to its reality. "Not even I can control what may or may not happen."

"You're not just, like, giving up?"

"I am returning to battle. That is a far cry from giving up."

She put her hand on my shoulder. "Just because your father told you doesn't mean you need to go back out there. You said it yourself. Osgiliath was taken. Just stay in the city. Claire says there's a battle coming on Pelenor. Fight that instead."

"I cannot disobey my father. He is lord of these lands and commander of the city's defense."

"Osgiliath isn't this city," she snapped.

"Osgiliath is our stronghold. If we can take it, there need not be a battle on Pelenor. I am sorry, Kristen. There is nothing you can do to make me disobey my father further."

I started to turn away from her, but suddenly, her hand was behind my head, pulling it down with that surprising strength of her's. Her lips met my own and I found myself kissing this girl who had once been my prisoner.

I tried to pull back, but she had wrapped her arms around my neck. I felt her hands tangle in my hair and the softness of her lips. She didn't want me to stop. I didn't want to stop. My mind seemed to shove all thoughts of war and family behind thoughts of this girl who intrigued me with her talk of other worlds and stories of reality. No, I did not want to go back to Osgiliath. I wanted to stay here in the White City with her in this moment.

For days I had defended Osgiliath and in my few moments of quiet I thought only of her. I had not wanted to admit to myself the feelings I harbored in fear of it being a distraction to my duties. I could ignore them no longer now that I knew she felt the same. Or, at least, she felt something. That was enough.

The door to the Great Hall opened and footsteps sounded. I would have ignored it had Kristen not pulled away. Claire stood there, a look on her face I could not read. Kristen's arms fell from my neck and she jumped away. I stood my ground. "Um, sorry," Claire said, her face flushing. "I just…Denathor started calling me annoying even though I didn't say anything and…I didn't mean…I didn't know—,"

"I will take my leave," I said to the women, turning and heading to the barracks to ready my men. I should have apologized to Kristen. It was not right for me to encourage her advances. The trip to Osgiliath could very well be my last. Nor had I been much of a gentleman. She deserved better than a kiss. Women of my country were not so obvious in their romantic interests.

I half expected her to follow me, but she did no such thing. Being alone with my thoughts did me no good in this instance. But I had reached the barracks now and had to turn back into a Captain, for surely my men would be more concerned of the doom this exposition would cause them then my romantic dilemmas.


A/N: OMG you guys! It happened! All you Fara-stin shippers out there, I hope you are pleased! Leave me a review letting me know if i did alright. I'm pretty aromantic IRL and am working on this bit of my writing. Thanks for reading!