"There was no lie in Pippin's eyes," Gandalf stalked the throne room of Rohan, hands behind his back while the small party watched. Théoden sat in his throne, dressed as he had been for bed and when the urgent summons had come, Éomer and Éowyn to either side of him, eyes lined and red to betray the hour. Nemireth did not feel so tired as she sat on one of the long benches with Merry to one side and poor Pippin to the other. A blanket had been thrown around his shoulders and yet the ashen-faced hobbit still shook in her arms while Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli stood with arms folded and attention wholly focused on the Wizard, "A fool, but an honest fool he remains. He told Sauron nothing of Frodo and the Ring."

Those assembled let out a collective sigh of relief, a release of tension that had been building since Gandalf had called the midnight council. It was sobering reminder of just how great a risk they had taken, to send the enemy's greatest weapon deep into enemy territory without hope of rescue or support, entirely at the mercy of fate and chance. A shudder went down the Princess' spine to even think of it, much the weight that had been placed on the shoulders of Frodo and Sam. Eru willing, they were still safe. Glancing down, she saw Pippin was looking at her with eyes reddened, expression sheepish. She offered him an encouraging smile and squeezed him tighter.

"We've been strangely fortunate," Still Gandalf spoke, still he paced, "For within the Palantir, Pippin saw a glimpse of the enemy's plans. Sauron means to strike at the city of Minas Tirith."

"Minas Tirith," Legolas frowned, "Is heavily fortified. It will not be easily taken."

"Yet it is the keystone to the west's defences," Aragorn had his arms folded now, sighing deeply, "If it falls then Erebor, Rivendell, even Rohan, will be vulnerable. There will be nothing to check his advance to the Grey Havens."

"There is more behind this move than mere strategy," Gandalf shook his head, "Sauron's defeat at Helms Deep has shown him many things. It has shown him that the heir of Elendil has come forth," He nodded to Aragorn, "And that beyond the world, Aeanor has answered the call," A glance to Nemireth, "Men are not as weak as he supposed. There is courage still, strength perhaps even to challenge him. Sauron fears this. He will not risk Middle Earth uniting under one banner. He will not risk the legions of Aeanor again crossing the sea. He will not risk the realms of Númenor assembling their full strength against him. He will raise Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees a king sit upon the throne of men!"

Now he turned his attention to Théoden who leant forward on his throne, deep in thought and looking greatly troubled by the words of the White Wizard, "If the beacons of Gondor are lit, Rohan must be ready for war!"

"Gandalf," The King shook his head, "My people are days removed from a battle in which their very survival was at stake. The Westfold is in ruins, north of the Isen trampled and crushed. Rohan cannot ride to war, we must look to our own defences."

Nemireth could not help but glare at the man who made no eye contact with anyone, not his niece or nephew who looked uncomfortable with his declaration, not the king of Gondor who stood across the hall from him, nor the wizard who raised an eyebrow but made no comment. The urge to challenge him rose up within the Princess but just like that she found that Gandalf was looking pointedly at her, a wordless warning she well understood. Now was not the time for fighting amongst the allies.

"I will go," Aragorn stepped forward.

"No!" Gandalf strode to him, hand on his shoulder to stay the Ranger's energy.

"They must be warned!"

"They will be," Then he leant in and whispered in the man's ear, advice that only he was privy to, before again speaking up, voice booming, "Understand this, things are set in motion that cannot be undone. I will go to Minas Tirith, and I won't be going alone." He was looking directly at Pippin and the Princess felt him shrink under the gaze, the shakes that had been fading now returned which Nemireth's wordless assurances could not stem.

Dawn was beginning to break as the meeting broke up, the first of the weak light breaking through the torch lit gloom of the hall. Théoden stayed where he was, locked in an intense conversation with his kin while Gandalf strode from the hall, muttering to himself.

"Nemireth?" Pippin was looking to her with wide eyes and voice quiet, uncertain, "Is Gandalf angry with me?"

She had no idea, it was always hard to tell with the wizard, "Of course not. Without you, we'd still be ignorant of the enemy's plan."

"What's going to happen?"

"I'm not sure but don't worry, Gandalf will have a plan. He always has a plan."

Though she smiled down at him, he did not smile back, reply whispered, "I'm scared."

She could think of nothing to say to that, for he should be scared. He had been as close to Sauron as any being had been in an age, tormented and questioned, and he had not broken. Pippin had greater strength than he knew but the look in the little hobbit's eyes broke her heart. Long gone was the careful man who had shared a midnight supper with her on the greens of Rivendell all that time ago. It was all she could do to bring him into a tighter hug, one which he responded to.

"Come! Quickly!" Gandalf had returned with a small bundle hanging from his belt. Pippin seemed reluctant to move away from the Princess but with a gentle nudge, he dropped from the bench and went to scurry after wizard. Nemireth watched him go, chewing her lip, before leaping to her feet, decision made.

"Gandalf! I'm coming as well."

She could all but hear Legolas groan out of view, a deep exhale escaping the lips of the elven prince as Gandalf sized her up, eyes fixed on her own. She did not look away, nor did she blink, she wanted him to look, she wanted to know how keen she was. At long last, he nodded.

"Very well. Travel light, for we must ride swiftly."

With a bow, she was gone, all but sprinting to the room in which her armour had been stored the night before. It had seen better days but every scuff, every scrape, every dent was a memory she had no intention of forgetting and so she donned it hurriedly. Partly this was due to Gandalf's need of haste and partly it was because she was more than happy to be out of the stained dress. Her armour was heavier around her shoulders, it restricted her breathing and it was more awkward to move with but somehow felt more natural than a finely woven dress ever could. Her helm still bore the tear from that night before the Deeping Wall, when a fragment of stone had come so close to killing her. That would need fixed but now was not the time.

A knock at the door and Nemireth turned. The protests she had prepared for Gandalf's inevitable intrusion died on her tongue as she saw it was Éowyn who watched her from the doorway.

"Off to war again." It was not a question.

Nemireth shrugged even as fingers moved nimbly to tighten straps and secure hooks around her plated chest and forearm plate, "I wish Théoden could say the same."

A pained expression crossed Éowyn's face, as it always did when her uncle was insulted before her, "He's trying to do what is right for our people."

"How about what is right for Middle Earth?"

The maiden sighed and took a seat on the bed, watching as Nemireth donned the remaining parts of her armour, "I hope he will understand that they are one and the same."

"If anyone can convince him, it would be you."

"And what happens after I convince him?"

"Hopefully, you will ride to the aid of Gondor."

"I will ride nowhere close to Gondor. To the camp perhaps, if I am lucky, but no further. I know my uncle will not allow it."

Nemireth stopped and turned to her friend, who was sat on the bed and looking down at her hands. It felt like her heart had skipped a beat, "You will defy him? Éowyn…"

When she looked up, her eyes were glistening with tears but her expression was fierce, "I have sat in this hall and watched as my country burned, as my cousin died. I have sat in the caves of Helms Deep and listened as my uncle fought for his life, as my lov-" She cut herself off and Nemireth saw the pain there, the grief that had yet to go, that may never go. She knew this because it was that which she felt strongest at the name Éowyn could not bring herself to mention, "But I will sit no longer. Not when my uncle and my cousin ride to war. Not this time."

The Aeanorean Princess looked down at her completed armour, from her cuirass to her greaves, from her helm to her pauldrons to her helm and offered a wry smile, "I believe I am in the worst position to be giving advice on the matter."

A smile crossed the lips of the Rohirrim Maiden and she embraced the armoured Princess, "Stay safe, Nemireth. I can't lose you too."

"And you." They parted, "And keep Gimli from the ale! At least until it is time for battle."

"Now in that, you ask the truly impossible!" And the two women, the princesses of great kingdoms, giggled together like children.

Just beyond the hall, where the wind stood ready to whip at her shortened hair as regularly as a soldier on patrol, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli were waiting for her, along with Amathor who was doing a poor job of hiding his displeasure.

"Your majesty," It was he who spoke first in Ellayan, "Please speak with the wizard. We must be allowed to ride with you!"

"I'm sorry, Amathor," She responded in kind as she descended the steps, checking and double-checking the most obvious things; sword? Yes. Dagger? Yes. Provisions? At the stable. Shield? Stable as well. "But we must travel quickly and even Súletal cannot keep pace with Shadowfax. We must not lose more time."

"But you will be unprotected!"

"I travel with a wizard, Amathor. I am perhaps the safest person in Middle Earth. Besides, did you not tell me that Karos and Samar's companies are at Minas Tirith already?"

"…I did, your majesty."

"Well, then I have nothing to worry about,"

She offered him a cheeky smile but he remained stone-faced so she quickly let it slip, "When Théoden rides, come with him. He will not say no to men of your calibre in his battle line and I would not say no to you joining the battle on my side."

"Of course, your majesty. We will be there with all haste, even if we must ride ourselves."

"Sauron won't know what's hit him," This time he did smile, a dark and eager smile, no doubt thinking of the vengeance he could visit upon the orcs of the dark lord, "Now go see to the men."

He bowed and departed, leaving just the members of the Grey Company as they reached the stables. Sure enough, her shield was waiting for her, as burnished and clean as it had been the day the Lady Galadriel had handed it to her, with a small pack of provisions atop Súletal. The grey-speckled stallion was stamping the ground and lowering his head in Shadowfax's direction, as if he were aware of the royalty in his midst.

"Well lassie," Gimli looked no worse for wear after his defeat, rather he seemed more fresh-faced than she had seen since Rivendell, "This is another tangle you're jumping into. Don't do anything too foolish without us."

"Don't worry Gimli," She was checking over the saddle and the supplies, making sure they were strapped down, patting Súletal's flank all the way, "I won't do anything you wouldn't do."

The dwarf snorted indignantly, though it could have easily been a chuckle beneath that brown beard.

"Be wary," Aragorn was holding Súletal's reins while Nemireth checked. As ever, the elven horse seemed much more at ease with the Ranger holding him than any Rohirrim stable boy, "Steward Denethor is a good man, but he is…proud as Boromir was. The city's defences are…undermanned,"

"I understand," Even the thought of Boromir hurt. It was strange to find that in the days following Xiphos' loss, the memories of another who had died, far away from any aid she could have given still stung at her heart, "Don't worry Aragorn, the city will stand when you return. I promise."

Only Legolas remained, wearing an impression trapped somewhere between amusement and exasperation, "What are we going to do with you?"

"You're not the first to ask that question and you probably won't be the last."

He rolled his eyes but stepped closer to her, just as Gimli looked away with a whistle and Aragorn tacitly turned his attention to Súletal. The elven prince ran a hand through her hair, "I wish I could go with you."

"I know," Her heart quickened, breaths shorter as she was transfixed by his eyes. It hurt to part from him again, but she knew it had to be done, and from his expression, so did he, "But Aragorn will need you. Théoden will need you."

"And I need you."

"Well, all the more reason to ride for Minas Tirith," She gave him a grin as they touched foreheads, "Stay safe Legolas. Look after the others for me. Look after Merry."

"I will." He nodded fiercely as she clambered into the saddle, as Gandalf had already done with his own mount, Pippin clinging to Shadowfax's mane, "May the winds watch you."

"And you."

"If you're quite done," The Wizard clucked his tongue, "It is a three day ride as the Nazgul flies, and you'd best be hoping we don't have one of those on our tail. Run, Shadowfax! Show us the meaning of haste!"

"Noro lim, Súletal!" With that command, both horses launched from the stables and through the gate in moments. In minutes, Edoras was far behind, lost beneath the sound of thundering hooves and the wind that rushed by her ears and had Súletal's mane billowing. Holding the reins as tight as she could, Nemireth lowered her head, narrowed her eyes and prepared herself for the great city of men, Minas Tirith.