I do not own LotR or anything else in Arda.

Pippin stared in awe at the uniform on his bed. "So, I imagine this is just a ceremonial position…I mean, they don't actually expect me to do any fighting…do they?" Gandalf and Taríen stood on the balcony outside. "You're in the service of the Steward now, you're going to have to do as you're told, Peregrin Took…Guard of the Citadel."

"It is a great honor, Pippin," Taríen said quietly. "And often, it is only a ceremonial position. However, we are at war, and Sauron is fast approaching. When the attack comes, you will be directly under my command. You must do exactly as Gandalf and I say." "Yes, my lady," Pippin said nervously as he walked out to join them on the balcony.

"It's so quiet," he commented, looking out over the city. "It's the deep breath before the plunge," Gandalf replied. "The calm before the storm," Taríen added. "You would know," Gandalf muttered. "I don't want to be in a battle," Pippin admitted. "But waiting on the edge of one I can't escape is even worse." "Even worse than that is getting told to go sleep in the middle of a siege," Taríen replied. "It's horrible, trying to sleep, with the war-cries and the sounds of catapults, the roaring of everything else." "Is it even possible?" Pippin asked. "You get used to it," Taríen replied.

Pippin looked at Gandalf. "Is there any hope, Gandalf…for Frodo and Sam?" "There was never much hope," Gandalf sighed, looking over to the Mountains of Mordor. "Just a fool's hope." "Our enemy is ready, his full strength gathered," Taríen said, almost in a whisper. "And not just Orcs, but Men as well," Gandalf agreed. "Legions of Haradrim from the South... mercenaries from the coast…All will answer Mordor's call."

Quietly, he continued. "This will be the end of Gondor as we know it. Here the hammerstroke will fall the hardest. If the river is taken, if the garrison at Osgiliath falls, the last defense of this city will be gone." Pippin looked up at Gandalf. "But we have the White Wizard. That's got to count for something." Gandalf said nothing. Nervously, Pippin asked, "Gandalf?"

"Sauron has yet to reveal his deadliest servant, the one who will lead Mordor's armies in war, the one they say no man can kill. The Witchking of Angmar…" He looked down at Pippin, who seemed very frightened. "You've met him before. He stabbed Frodo on Weathertop. He is the Lord of the Nazgûl, the greatest of the Nine, and Minas Morgul is his lair."

Suddenly, a blazing light shot from Minas Morgul and into the dark clouds above them. All three jerked their heads towards Mordor. Pippin trembled in fear, and Gandalf wrapped an arm about him protectively. Taríen reached out gently with her mind, probing, lightly enough to not be noticed, and if noticed, not identifiable. Upon identifying the source of the light, she withdrew to her own mind and relayed her findings mentally to Gandalf. He nodded grimly.

"We have come to it at last," Gandalf said as they heard the screams of the Nazgûl and their mounts. "The great battle of our time," Taríen agreed. "The First Age ended with the War of Wrath, the Second with the Last Alliance of Men and Elves. Perhaps this shall end the Third."

"But will the Fourth be of good or ill?" Gandalf asked. "This war is long planned. Sauron has hated the west through many ages. It is a hatred that flows from the depths of time, across the deeps of the Sea. The board is set, the pieces are moving."

"We still have two advantages," Taríen reminded. "Sauron does not know we are trying to destroy the Ring, and he certainly doesn't know how close it is getting." "And the other advantage?" Gandalf asked. "The other advantage can still act neutral, or even listen to Sauron's arguments," Taríen mentioned. "Sauron need not know the allegiance until the very end."

"Who is the second advantage?" Pippin asked. "Me, of course," Taríen said. "Sauron doesn't know that there's actually someone decent in charge of our defenses. He doesn't know that, even though he's driven Denethor mad, the city still has strong leadership, meaning me. Aragorn is an advantage as well, as long as we can survive this siege and then get him here. All of Middle-earth will unite under him." "Even you?" Gandalf asked. "I may not listen to him, but I will follow him," she admitted.

They were all silent for a moment. "I must say," Taríen said, looking towards the Tower of Black Sorcery. "I liked it much better when it was Minas Ithil. Still, even with this catastrophic even looming over us, it's good to be home." They all continued to stare across the land, dimly lit though it was barely past noon.

Suddenly, Taríen felt something on the edge of her consciousness, a sense of awareness. She focused on it, searching for the source of the conflict. Her eyes widened when she found it. "Gandalf," she said quickly. He turned to look at her, brow furrowed in worry. "What is it?" he asked in a low voice. "What has happened?"

"The orcs have crossed the Anduin to the western bank of Osgiliath," she informed him. "Faramir is there." "You can sense it?" he asked, surprised. "I couldn't until we were nearby again," she admitted. "Normally, I might be able to, from a distance, but not while I was pregnant. But we need to light the beacons now."

Gandalf looked at Pippin. "You need to come with me, Peregrin Took." He looked back at Taríen. "If you order the beacons lit, or are suspected of doing it yourself, or of having one of your children do it, you will lose much of your influence with Denethor. You and your children need to be seen in the city." She nodded. "I'll get the children. Front door in five minutes?" Gandalf nodded solemnly.


Gandalf strode purposefully through the streets of the sixth level of Minas Tirith. Taríen, all her children, and Pippin were behind him. "Tarien…" he began. "I know," she said. "Children, go play, make sure to return to the house every time you hear the bell. If I'm not there, wait until I'm back. Understand?" The four children nodded, then ran off. Taríen, moved off into the marketplace.

Gandalf looked down at Pippin. "Peregrin Took, my lad, there is a task to be done. Another opportunity for the Shire-folk to prove their great worth!" He knelt down and placed his hand on Pippin's shoulder, looking him in the eye. "You must not fail me!" Gandalf insisted. Pippin nodded solemnly and ran off.

Shortly afterward, Gandalf watched nervously as Pippin scaled the tower where the beacon was. Looking the other direction, he could see Taríen down in the marketplace. She was gowned in black mourning clothes, trimmed in silber. She wore a silver choker with the symbol of Gondor on it. She looked like a proper Gondorian lady, wearing a skirt with her hair pinned up. She was constantly being approached by citizens, who were alternately expressing their joy that she was home and offering their condolences for her husband's death. Her children were also in the marketplace, though not with her. Apparently, as long as they were inside the walls of Minas Tirith, her children were as safe as they were in their home.

Gandalf glanced up and noticed Pippin had made it to the top of the tower. He dumped oil on the wood and lit the beacon. He stood there for a moment, then seemed to realize that he needed to get down. By the times the guards noticed, he was already climbing down the stones, and the fire could not be stopped.

Gandalf smiled and ran to the battlements. He looked off along the White Mountains, watching, watching for the next beacon. "Amon Din," he said to himself, "come on." A blazing fire quickly appeared. "The beacon!" Someone shouted. "The beacon at Amon Din is lit!" "Hope is kindled," Gandalf whispered.

Not ten minutes later, Tarien ran up to him. "We have to move quickly," she said. "Osgiliath has fallen. Faramir and the last of his men are riding towards Minas Tirith, but the Nazgûl are close behind. Only we can protect them now." "You're not leaving the city," he said urgently. "You can't reveal yourself!" He glanced at her stomach. "Not while you're still mortal!"

"No," she said fiercely, but quietly. "But I can go to the Citadel, to the height of the bastion. I can direct my own brand of warfare from there." He raised an eyebrow. "As you once did from the peaks of Thangorodrim?" She hesitated, but nodded. "I did it at Helm's Deep. How hard can it be to hit a Nazgûl from here?"

Gandalf smiled slightly at that. "You'd better go," she said. "They need your help." Gandalf nodded and ran back towards the stable where Shadowfax was. "How do you feel about riding against Nazgûl?" he asked him. Shadowfax only neighed. A few moments later, he was galloping down the streets of Minas Tirith.