Disclaimer: Oh, maresy otes andoesedotes an liddlelam sedivy! By the way, I don't own the Lord of the Rings.

A/N: Ok, here's the chapter that SHOULD have gone before the last one I posted, but just bear with me, ok? Ok. I already have the next chapter written, so when I get... five reviews I'll update. Ok? Ok. I'm not having a good day, so bear with me here. This one is all Leigh, for once, but the next one is gonna be all about Jaden again. Alrighty, this one is nice and long for ya! Enjoy!

Shadowed Horizon

Leigh strode along the white streets of Minas Tirith beside her little hobbit friend and their new ally on their way to check on Gandalf's rowdy horse. The sun was still bright above them and the sky was fair. Somehow it seemed difficult to believe that soon this gleaming city would be masked in darkness and under a terrible siege.

When at last they arrived at the stables they found them clean, fresh, and deserted save for Shadowfax. The horse whinnied at the sight of his friends as they stepped into the stable.

"Good morning!" Pippin said cheerfully. "Gandalf will come as soon as he may. He is busy, but he sends greetings, and I am to see that all is well with you; and you resting, I hope, after your long labors."

Shadowfax tossed his head and fidgeted, clearly unhappy at being bundled into a narrow stall when he would rather be racing over the open plains. While the horse stamped, Beregond admired him with open wonder.

"He looks as if he were spoiling for a race," he marvelled, "and not newly come from a great journey. Where is his harness? It should be rich and fair."

"None is rich and fair enough for him," Pippin laughed, stroking the steed's muzzle. "He will have none. If he will consent to bear you, bear you he does; and if not, well, no bit, bridle or whip will tame him. Farewell, Shadowfax! Have patience. Battle is coming."

Understanding the halfling's words, Shadowfax raised his head and neighed so that the entire building shook and even Beregond covered his ears. Then they left the noble horse behind after checking to ensure that his manger was filled.

As they stepped back into the dazzling sun, they saw another man dressed in the attire of the citadel guard approaching them. Leigh frowned and tilted her head as the man neared them. She certainly didn't remember this bit.

"I seek lady Leigh, the companion of Mithrandir," the messenger announced.

"I am she," Leigh nodded.

"The Lord Denethor requests your presence in his hall, lady," the man said with a slight bow. "He requested as much speed as you are capable of, as well."

"I suppose it would be completely inappropriate to just run, wouldn't it?" Leigh asked Pippin. "Go on without me, Pip, and try to enjoy yourself." Turning back to the guard, she continued. "I shall go with you, I only hope that you can keep up in your armor." With that she set off at an extremely determined pace, more than equaling that of her escort.

There were many things in life that Leigh did not enjoy, things like spiders for instance. However, she would rather be tossed into a pit crawling with black widows than face off with Denethor again. She knew her limits, and she knew that 'Smarter-than-thou' Denethor were stretch them as far as they would go. The only thing she was worried about was possibly leaping forward and trying to strangle him at some point in their conversation. Gandalf would avenge her if she killed herself in frustration. Oh, what would Maylin say?

Once again, she passed into the cold, stone halls until she stood before the doors leading into the throne room, where Denethor undoubtedly awaited her arrival. On their own accord, the doors swung open and Leigh stepped through to face the raging storm a lunatic Steward.

"I see that whatever other faults you may have, tardiness is not one of them," the Steward commented.

"If you don't mind my asking, sir, why exactly did you send for me?" Leigh asked.

"We had little time to speak earlier, with Mithrandir acting as a shield," Denethor said dryly, "and there is more I would discuss with you."

"Well," Leigh held out her arms, "here I stand."

Denethor shifted in his tiny throne and raised his head, so that he was effectually staring down his nose at the young woman before him.

"So," he began, "you all claim that my son still lives, and that your hands have not shed his blood."

"Yes," Leigh answered flatly.

"Then how do you explain a dream sent by the Valar that revealed you clubbing my son?" Denethor demanded.

For about a split second, Leigh's eyes got really big. Then her common sense kicked back in.

"It was Faramir who had the dream, wasn't it?" she asked.

"Answer my question first," Denethor commanded.

Leigh's eyes skipped over the looming arches along the walls as she thought out her answer.

"There was an archer taking aim at him," she said slowly. "Had the Uruks gotten close enough to him, they would have slain him. I protected Boromir in the only way I knew how."

"By attacking him?"

"We both know that your son is as stubborn as he is honorable, sir," Leigh replied, slightly distracted by fonder memories of the warrior. "He would never have left a girl and two halflings to fend for themselves against a large force of Uruk-Hai."

For a moment at the mention of his son's courage and loyalty, Denethor's eyes softened and his gaze drifted away to see his beloved child. As soon as the moment came, it passed, and the cold, hard ruler had returned with the glinting look of a snake.

"I believe your tale, lady," Denethor said airily. "However, you still do not carry the favor of the White Tower."

"I did not ask for it," Leigh quipped. "But out of curiosity, what else have I done to so mightily offend you?"

"This you know better than any other," Denethor sneered, rising from his chair. "I am neither blind nor deaf, child, and I have learned far more than even that meddling wizard may have guessed from the story your small friend told me. You have sought to bewitch my son and steal him from me."

Leigh couldn't help it, she burst out laughing. "Is that what you think?" Leigh gasped. "I never sought to 'bewitch' anyone, I don't even know how, and nor do I want to! So you think I'm some sort of witch, eh? Sorry to break it to you, but I'm no more than the average commoner in your kingdom when it comes to talents in witchcraft or society status. I'm a typical girl, one with an attitude, granted, and one who fights in battles, but certainly not a witch. And why on earth would I want to 'steal' Boromir, anyway?"

"Are not all women witches?" Denethor smirked triumphantly. "Does not even the lowest peasant girl have the ability to lull a man out of his senses and away from his duty? I speak not of the sorcery of the Dark Lord, but of the witchcraft of love."

Leigh was shocked into silence. The first coherent thought to come into her head was 'crud'. So, the great and powerful Steward had figured out just who had been the focus of his son's attentions during the quest. While it probably wouldn't change anything in the long run, it would most likely make things for the rest of her stay there a bit sticky to say the least.

Smirking in victory, Denethor returned to his seat and reclined against the ebony back.

"So you do not deny that you harbor feelings for my son?" he asked.

"I do not deny that I did," Leigh replied. "However, I am not so certain to hold any now, not since a few days ago."

"That is well," Denethor said, starting to turn towards other matters. "Warriors, as queer as they may be, are greatly needed in this time of war, and Boromir needs no distractions. What's more, it would be a pity for any young woman to have her heart broken. You may leave."

As Leigh turned and walked back towards the great double doors leading out of the icy hall, she felt something freeze deep inside of her. She now faced a choice: did she or did she not love Boromir? Equally important was the question of his regard for her. Had he truly only meant to use her as a weapon from the start, or was it deeper than that? Never before had she felt so confused. Her heart screamed one thing and her head shouted another.

"One last question," the Steward called down the narrow hall. "Did my son return your feelings?" While he tried to make the question sound casual, Leigh knew better and heard the edge in his voice.

She paused before the open door, and without turning again replied, "Yes. He did." Then she went on and passed out of Denethor's sight.

.O.O.O.

Leigh found herself on the edge of the battlements that thrust out from the courtyard in the highest level of the city. Below her, the Pelennor stretched out to the banks of the Great River which wound away into the distance like a glittering blue ribbon. To the East the black mountains bordering Mordor stood out against a red sky streaked with black. Her eyes had grown accustomed to the harsh glare of the White City, and this made the ominous shadow of Mordor all the darker.

"It is strange," Gandalf mused as he came up behind her, "how such evil can reside so near to a beacon of light and still prosper."

"You didn't come to talk to me about Mordor, Gandalf," Leigh replied, not looking away from the view.

"No," Gandalf sighed. "I did not. Word reached me that Denethor summoned you."

"Yes."

"I also heard, that the meeting did not go well," he continued. "They say that the Steward was in a rage for nearly an hour before sensible council could be taken with him again. One must wonder what exactly was said to evoke such a response."

"I simply answered his question," Leigh shrugged. "If he didn't want to hear the answer, he shouldn't have asked."

Gandalf chuckled and came to stand beside the girl.

"What concerns me more, is how well you responded," the wizard said. "The subject of Boromir was brought up, if I understand correctly."

Leigh didn't respond, she simply leaned farther out against the rock wall she was leaning on, too troubled to answer.

From his place beside her, Gandalf sighed deeply and placed his worn, calloused hand on her shoulder.

"He has wounded you deeply, I know, but I personally still hold out hope for him," the old wizard told her. "Ultimately, it will be your decision that breaks or mends your love, but I am afraid that there is little time now for you to dwell on such things. Little time is left before I shall need you by my side both night and day. We have few defenses against the armies marching against us, but our soldiers need as much hope as they can be given. You are hope to them, Leigh. With your permission, I would like to announce to the citizens of Minas Tirith the truth, at least in part, concerning you and the other members of the Four."

"You have my permission," Leigh said tiredly. "What else do you need from me?"

"I need your sword, your presence along with me in the battle," Gandalf said slowly. "You have already given much, but I now need a little of your council as well as your elvish blade. However, if you do not feel that you can lead..."

"I will stand by your side, Gandalf," Leigh said, finally turning around and looking into the weathered eyes of her dear friend. "You have known my friends and I nearly from the beginning of this whole adventure, helping in this fight is the least I can do."

"Good," Gandalf smiled. "I would ask that you accompany me to the council I now go to, as a display of support if nothing else."

"Alright," Leigh nodded.

They turned and walked back to the Citadel together, drawing on each other's strength for the long storm that hung on the edge of the horizon. A dangerous path had been laid before them, and they would walk it together to the best of their ability. Undoubtedly, they were a strange pair of saviors: a mighty wizard and a young woman who had fallen from the sky of another world.

.O.O.O.

The rest of the day passed with Leigh standing on the edges of the men taking council in a small, windowless room deep in the Citadel. From time to time, Gandalf would look up at her to ask a question concerning this or that, or just to make sure that she was still standing. Only rarely, though, was her council needed; Gandalf had things well in hand. Of course, the curious and slightly awed soldiers and statesmen who were gathered around the central table occasionally cast her glances out of the corners of their eyes, wondering what great battles she had seen and what one so young was doing riding to war. Some were dubious, some were hopeful, but Leigh met each of their looks with the same, cool stare she had adopted since Denethor's arrows had first hit their mark.

"Leigh," Gandalf said suddenly, looking up from a map of the defenses, "do you know how many are coming from the Outlands to the defense of Minas Tirith?"

"Less than three thousand," she replied grimly. "Tales have reached them of a Dark Fleet, so those peoples situated by the sea or the Great River have sent only those that they can spare. I'm afraid I do not remember details concerning what types of warriors are coming."

"Thank you, Leigh," Gandalf said in a dry voice.

Then the discussion continued, the advisers now looking far less uncertainly and much more admiringly towards the brooding woman in the shadows.

At long last the session ended and captains went scurrying off to inform their troops of the latest developments while the statesmen and higher ranking officers murmured among themselves or carried word to their lord Denethor, who had not attended the council but had dealt with other matters in the Hall.

Once he had finished ordering something to a young military commander, Gandalf turned his attention back to his young friend.

"You must go now and find food and drink, Leigh, for the hour is late" Gandalf commanded kindly. "You are not as seasoned as these other hardened men, and you need both sustenance and sleep. Perhaps you will even be able to lay your hands on that wily hobbit that was set lose to terrorize Minas Tirith."

Leigh was tired, and she was very, very hungry, having missed both breakfast and lunch. Once she had gotten directions from a kindly looking soldier, she walked out of the stone building and headed towards the mess, where she hoped to run into at least Pippin if not Beregond. Not many were still out by this time of night, and singing came from the open windows of the guards' houses.

'Let them enjoy themselves,' Leigh thought wearily. 'This may be one of the last nights they have to live before the Shadow takes them.'

It was in this bleak state of mind that she finally stumbled upon the mess, which was still crowded with soldiers making merry and enjoying their hard earned dinners. A few took notice of her entry, turning their heads to see who the stranger was, but most did not see her slip in from the darkness outside. Pippin was the first to see her, and a happy light lit in his tired eyes at the sight of her coming towards him. Quickly, he pointed her out to Beregond who swiftly rose from his seat and organized his fellows to make room for her at the table, sitting again once she had taken a seat.

"Hullo again, Leigh!" Pippin said happily. Then he cocked his head and examined her again. "Is something the matter?" he asked. "You look...grey, worn, almost like old Gandalf."

Leigh simply shrugged and quickly changed the subject. "How did your day with Bergil go, Pip?"

"How did you...? Oh, fiddlesticks, never mind," Pippin sighed.

"Mithrandir has spread word of you among the troops," Beregond said in a hushed voice. "Is it true what he says, that you know of the future?"

"It is true, at least to some extent," Leigh replied. "I am no fortuneteller, but I am... privy to certain things that you are not."

"Then it is an even greater honor to have you dining with the Third Company, my lady!" Beregond cried.

"It just as great an honor for me," Leigh smiled. "However, I think I would appreciate it more if I had something to eat."

"Good heavens!" Pippin cried. "I'd clean forgotten! You haven't had anything to eat all day, have you?"

"Nope," Leigh replied as she snatched at a slice of hearty bread. "Gandalf wanted me with him."

"Does this mean that you won't be able to go around with me tomorrow?" Pippin asked sorrowfully.

"First of all," Leigh raised her eyebrows, "you will have duties of your own tomorrow, and secondly, no, I will most likely be too busy."

"Then you do intend to fight with us when the Enemy attacks?" Beregond asked with a pale face.

"I've fought in battles before," Leigh told him. "There's really no point in hiding if you think about it, and I'm not half bad with a sword, anyways."

"Believe her," Pippin whispered loudly. "I've seen her with that thing!"

Soon nearly all of the men in the room were talking about, or talking to Leigh and Pippin. In the blink of an eye they had become local celebrities, and neither one was entirely comfortable with it. They soon honestly claimed fatigue and retired to their room which they shared with Gandalf.

Pippin dropped off like a little rock, but Leigh found that sleep evaded her. For several hours she tossed and turned in her tiny alcove, giving up at last and getting up to wait for Gandalf by the windows. Even when the ancient wizard returned, Leigh kept her post by the window as he paced back and forth across the room.

"When will Faramir return?" he muttered as the candlelight blinked over the many rolls of parchment he had set on the table.

"Soon," Leigh replied in her calm new voice.

"Hullo!" Pippin said as he stuck his head out from around his curtain. "I thought you had forgotten all about me. I am glad to see you back. It has been a long day."

"But the night will be too short," Gandalf foretold darkly. "You should sleep, in a bed while you still may. At the sunrise I shall take you to the Lord Denethor again. No, when the summons comes, not at sunrise. The Darkness has begun. There will be no dawn. And you, Leigh, at that time I shall rouse you to accompany me again. Rest now, though, while there is still time. I do not know when there will time enough to sleep again."

Leigh nodded and returned to her bed, managing to sleep for the rest of the night.

.O.O.O.

As he slept far away, Boromir dreamed.

In his dream he saw the gleaming walls of his city fall under a shadow and the bravest of soldiers quaked in fear. The tallest towers cowered down and their banners fell slack, hanging limply against their staffs. Hope had died and with its leaving came a new presence to fill the hearts of his people: fear. Every stone breathed it and the brave sons of Gondor looked up to the shadowy sky with terror.

Amidst this dark threat stood a young woman girt with a sword and dressed in armor. At a second glance, Boromir saw it to be Leigh, but tired and wearied beyond her years. Her hair was stained with black blood and her eyes were pained and dull. Somehow, she seemed to have fallen into the decay that the White City had endured for so many years.

For an instant, her ghost eyes looked up and met his and the light of hope dawned in them.

As quickly as the dream had come it melted away, leaving Boromir awake and troubled.

A/N: Was that end bit cheesy? I think it might have been a bit cheesy. My beta and I have some e-mail difficulties, so she didn't get a shot at this one... Um... tell me what YOU think! I love to hear from you, and you guys just make my day! Thanks, and when you review say... 'joust.' Thanks and don't forget to review!