Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. I do not own any of the character, places, names, or anything associated with the works of J.R.R Tolkien or the Lord of the Rings (books or movie, whatever). My characters are Anita, Leila, and Arlandria and that is all.
Lost- Within Temptation(Studio Acoustic Version)
Chapter 59: Lost
Anita was sure she had done something to anger whatever gods controlled her fate. She had angered them and now she had been condemned to a living hell. Gandalf had told her explicitly that she would be a necessary distraction so that he could put his plan to summon Rohan in motion; God help him if he didn't succeed no healer in this world or the next would be able to fix what the elleth would do to him. With no enthusiasm in her step, the girl followed behind one of the Steward's personal handmaidens who had come to her door that morning requesting her presence for a late breakfast with Denethor; almost as if Gandalf had set up the whole thing. Her personal feelings aside, Ani had determined she was going to try her best to play the part of a demure and proper elf and do her family proud. Fortunately for her, it seemed Minas Tirith wasn't a particularly popular place for Elves to visit on vacation, so there would be little to compare her behavior to.
In a sad and fairly lackluster attempt to make herself more presentable, Anita had pulled her hair back from her face in two braids that met at the back of her head and cascaded freely down her back in waves. The girl would not freely admit how much time of her morning had been eaten up doing her hair in that simple design. Ani was never caught up enough in her own vanity to worry much about how her hair looked; a simple pony or allowing it to hang loose was usually all she bothered with. Even in Rivendell Leila was the one who fussed over Ani's appearance; a responsibility she had been shackled with after an incident where Anita was formally introduced to Haldir the Marchwarden of Lothlorien still wearing her painting scrubs.
The heavy doors to the Hall were opened and the handmaid led Anita into the eerily quiet building where she had initially met the Steward of Gondor. Plastering a friendly, if not altogether fake, smile on her face the elleth followed behind the woman. Gandalf had, most unfortunately, not given her any kind of timeline for how long his task would take and therefore how long she was going to have to keep this charade up. Just do what Leila would do , it was the mantra that Ani repeated over and over again in her head in time with her footsteps as she was guided into a side room where a large ebony table was set. Denethor was already seated by the time the elleth entered and was announced by the maid, who curtseyed deeply.
"My Lord Denethor, the Mistress Ani of Rivendell." As her name was spoken Anita gave a deeper bow than she had ever afforded anyone else, even though is hurt her feminist sensibilities to do so in order to feed the man's ego.
"I am pleased to find you well rested this morning." The older man said politely as he stood and indicated with a sweep of his hand that Ani was to sit next to him, at least as next to him as she could be since he occupied the head of the table.
"It is only by the grace of the Valar that such journeys do not tax me beyond measure." She replied with equally feigned politeness as she strode over and took the seat that had been shown to her. As she sat a plate was set before with breakfast fare of the day; smoked herring, rye bread, a soft cheese that she could only assume was brie, and some stewed tomatoes. It was a stark change from what she had grown accustomed to in Rivendell as far as morning meals were concerned, since her family dined on fresh fruits and sweetbread.
She must have unconsciously made a strange face when the food was place before because Denethor felt compelled to comment. " Apologies, we do not have much opportunity to entertain Elves, I forget that your people abhor consuming the flesh of animals." Ani had to suppress an eye roll at his comment. Why did everyone think that Elves were vegetarians? Meat was consumed with less frequency by her people, she would willingly admit to that, but it was only because they were far more aware of how fragile an ecosystem was to risk hunting animals in excess.
With the phony grin still stamped on her face the elleth replied sweetly, "No my lord your hospitality towards me has been very great since I entered your fair city. I hope one day your kindness can be repaid should you visit my home in Rivendell." Ani forgot how exhausting it was to put up such a façade and follow the script of social protocol.
"My son Boromir was in Rivendell recently, in his letters he spoke very eloquently of the cordiality of Lord Elrond." Well Anita knew that was a lie. Not only because Boromir had never struck her as the type to pay compliments to others, much less false ones, she personally had seen how their cultures clashed…one such altercation leading to her almost stabbing the son of the steward. " Did you happen to see my son while he visited your city?"
The girl knew she would have to pick her words with great care wen answering Denethor's question. Ani had gone to exceeding pains to make sure her identity as Elrond's granddaughter was hidden, she couldn't risk blowing that now. Stuffing a bite of cheese in her mouth she thought over her answer as she chewed to buy herself some time. "I was…aware…of your son's presence within Rivendell, however as he was attending business with Lord Elrond and I had my own duties to attend to, there was little opportunity for us to converse. Not to mention the overshadowing concern of the apocalypse, what with the Ring being there and all. "
"My son was a proud representative for me and our city at Elrond's council, a paragon of what it meant to be the son of a Steward." There was a ghost of a smile on Denethor's face , his eyes cloudy and far away as he spoke fondly of his now deceased son. It left Anita to wonder if her own father Elladan would speak so kindly of her if she were to have met an untimely death at Helm's Deep, or even now as Mordor gathered its forced for a war. The Steward was misty eyed for only a moment before all emotion was erased, a stern expression taking over his features instead. " There were other representatives there as well I believe; Elves, Dwarves, and even others who would represent the opinions of Men. Tell me, do you know this Ranger called Aragorn?"
And there it was. Ani didn't think it was going to take long for Denethor to get to the point of why he had wanted to speak to her, Gandalf had been right the night before in assuming the topic would either be the path the Ring had taken or Aragorn. As it turned out, it was the latter of the two possible topics. "Yes Aragorn is well known to me, indeed he is no stranger to any Elf in my town, though he is a Ranger of the North he calls Rivendell his home and often sees fit to return."
"Rangers of the North," Denethor scoffed," defenders of an archaic time, scattered nomads that cling to the old ways." Anita couldn't tell if Denethor's mumbling was directed at her and therefore requiring an answer or if he was mumbling nonsensically to himself. Instead she opted to remain silent and nibble at the crust of the dark rye bread on her plate. "Fancies himself a king, does he?" This time Denethor did look up at her, expectation written across his aging features. Anita stuttered inelegantly, scrambling to find an answer that wouldn't further irritate the already vexed Steward. Luckily he didn't wait for her to produce a hastily put together response to his question before he charged ahead with his rant. "He hides in the woods, he is no leader…he is no king. Where was Aragorn when Mordor threatened our borders? Where was Aragorn when plague and death visited our city? Here, with his people? Nay. I was. I am these peoples' rightful leader, I know what I best for them. Not some Ranger."
As the man had ranted and railed Ani had dropped her gaze back to her food, hoping a lack of interested audience would deflate Denethor's anger, but also with the hope that it would quash the rising desire the elleth had to defend her friend. It seemed however that ,in spite of her best efforts, her combative nature wouldn't be hidden away without putting up a fight. "I know he would call for help in defending this city, even if it meant hurting his pride." Anita's eyes widened in shock as the sentence spilled out of her mouth like water through a breaking dam, she wouldn't have been able to hold it back even if it had been her intention to do so. Before she could recant her rashly blurted statement it was punctuated by a shout from outside.
"The beacon!" The shout drew both Denethor and Anita's attention to the narrow window, which was barely more than an arrowslit, from which the shout had been heard. "The beacon of Amon Din is lit!" Denethor swiftly rose from his chair and swept over the window, glaring out across the landscape. Ani didn't know anything about any beacons, but the timing was too coincidental for it to be unrelated to Gandalf's master plan. It was at that moment that the elleth understood what her real job was here having a meal with the Steward of Gondor. She was a scapegoat. The Steward was about to get real mad real quick, and Anita was going to be right in his sights. She supposed if anyone had to do it, it might as well be her, especially since she had spent the better part of her life in Middle Earth getting yelled for one thing or another….although usually she was being berated for something she had actually done as opposed to being yelled at for something someone else was doing.
Denethor's posture went rigid with manifesting anger and Anita gave a resigned sigh as she mumbled," Here we go."
"Was this your design in coming here? To usurp me?!" When the Steward turned his dark eyes were ablaze with a wrath that would have put her own father's to shame.
Ani put her hands up defensively , " I can't even spell 'usurp' much less tell you what that means."
Her attempt at feigned innocence did little to derail the Steward as he launched into an angry tirade, leaning over the table in the elleth's direction so that she could see the vein angrily pumping at his temple. "Blood shed by my forefathers built this city, by our sacrifice has Gondor become the greatest city of Men; not by some long depleted lineage of Kings whose sole heir would rather wander among the thistles and live in the mud than offer true lordship to his people as I have done these many years. I have stood against the evils of Mordor long before your Elven masters foresaw the resurrection of the Dark Lord, long have I remained steadfast against to growing darkness, long have the forces of Mordor been kept at bay by my will. This city is mine, and I shall not be cast aside like a used up whore."
"You don't get to make that choice," Anita answered calmly, not blinking as the man before her stared her down. Denethor didn't reply except to smack the cup in front of her place setting with unnecessary force, sending it rocketing off the table where it crashed to the floor spilling its contents with a resounding clangor. Defiantly the elleth stood and made a dramatic display of wiping nonexistent spilled liquid from her tunic. " I will take that as my cue to go." Even though every fiber that made up her being wanted to run as fast as her toned legs would carry her, the dark haired girl chose to keep command of her dignity by determining to walk steadily out of the room, Denethor however was against her even in that.
"I have not dismissed you from my presence," He growled behind her.
Anita stopped mid-step, chewing her bottom lip as she waffled between leaving without acknowledging the comment or staying to appease the Steward. Slowly she turned back to look at the older man; though his face was deeply wrinkled and framed by graying hair, he had surely been the epitome of regality in his younger and less stressful days. But now instead of the picture of a leader, there was a hint of desperation even bordering on madness in his eyes. The elleth gave a small bow before she spoke, "I came here to thank you for your hospitality towards me and my travelling companions, know that I have already pledged myself to defend this city even if you choose to withdraw your hospitality in light of what I am about to say. Understand this; I may be only seen as a woman among your people, but I am a guardian of Rivendell, a warrior among Elves, and I do not answer to you nor am I yours to command." Without waiting for his response she turned away and left him in the dining room, exiting through the same open stone doorway that she had entered. Standing just on the other side of doorway was the handmaiden who had summoned Anita by Denethor's will barely half an hour ago. The young woman stood with one shoulder place against the wall, hunched with one ear close to the doorway in design to eavesdrop, when Ani walked past her the maid stood up quickly having been caught due to her inability to hear the elf's footsteps.
The elf jerked her thumb in the direction she just came from, "I would not go in there if I were you." Sounds of more things crashing to the floor added effect to her words, and the dark haired elleth had to suppress a smirk as she continued walking straight out of the house and into the open courtyard beyond the White Tower. Deciding that putting some distance between herself and Denethor was probably a good idea, the elleth wandered down the path that led to the lower levels. The sun was struggling to brighten the land through the clouds that were slowly but surely crawling across the eastern river, despite its efforts there was still a growing shadow over the land. As far as omens went, it left Ani feeling anxious to know if Gandalf felt the newly lit beacons would indeed bring desperately needed aid.
The level directly below the Citadel was meant to serve as the base for the soldiers, that much became obvious to Anita as she wandered about between the men in full Tower regalia as well as the colors of the city. If memory served her correctly the horses were stabled on this level as well, now was as good a time as any to check on the horse she had borrowed from Eomer in Edoras, Firefoot. Aimlessly the girl wandered among the soldiers, no real time limit on her quest, until she found the massive stables. Row upon row of stalls filled the building, only half of which were occupied by steeds of varying color and stock; this at least made it easy for her to find Firefoot mixed in with the few horses that were housed there. Firefoot and Shadowmere were stalled next to each other conveniently, the elf taking the time to brush them both and see to it that they had sufficient hay and water. With the only task Anita had set before herself completed, and in far less time than she would have liked, she exited the stables with no real direction as where to go or what to do now. Reentering daylight, the elleth was pleased to catch sight of a set of white robedsbeing followed by a very short man.
"Mithrandir!" Ani called and jogged to catch up to her companions. While Gandalf didn't have any emotion on his face that would have indicated success or failure of his cause, Pippin had an undoubtedly pleased smiled on his face. "I see that you were successful in calling for aid."
"Indeed, and how was your meeting with the Steward?" The wizard asked.
Ani's face fell into a scowl. "How do you think it went? He's pissed as hell. A little head's up would be nice before you throw me to the wolves next time, by the way."
The older man gave a dismissive wave of his hand, "I merely figured that…"
"Yeah I know damn right well what you figured," Anita cut him off, not nearly as cross as she was trying to make herself seem. "So now what?" She asked attempting to change the subject away from Denethor and his wrath, " We just sit here and wait for someone to come and help us?"
Gandalf sighed and shook his head, " We have made a call for aid yes, but we cannot trust to hope that any help will come in time to save us from Mordor's attack, which is certain to come any day. We must only look to ourselves and what few soldiers Minas Tirith still has to try and hold this city. " He paused momentarily and looked eastward to where the clouds were rolling in, like poison seeping from a snake bite. "When will Faramir return?" He muttered to no one in particular.
Ani turned to Pippin with confusion on her face, "Who's Faramir?"
"Denethor's second son." The hobbit replied matter-of-factly. The girl's eyebrows nearly shot off her forehead they were raised in surprise so quickly. While the grief over losing one child had been apparent in the Steward, there had been nothing there to indicate love for a second son that he had fathered. As she thought back to Boromir's time in Rivendell, she couldn't recall that he had ever mentioned having a brother. With Aragorn still absent from the White City, the line of Steward's was still in motion to continue rule; meaning that with Boromir now being dead, this Faramir was now in line to be the next Steward of the Throne….so where was he?
A high pitched shriek from beyond the wall ended the conversation and drew the attention of all three companions to the east. The sound made Anita's blood run cold with fear. She had heard that sound before; gods but it felt like years ago that day in the woods, waiting for Glorfindel to return with any news of the hobbit he had been looking for. The day that Frodo had been found, half dead with a stab wound in his chest, that was when she had heard that sound. Together as a group, the trio moved to a position by the wall where they would be able to look out over the land in the direction the nightmarish sound had come from. The plains were mostly empty between the great city and the river, the only thing breaking up the landscape was the presence of a crumbling city on the water's edge. With her sharp eyesight, the elleth was able to see dark figures flying above the town, occasionally swooping and diving among the stone buildings which had fallen to ruin.
"Are those dragons?" She gasped as the sound of another ear piercing cry filled her ears.
"Ringwraiths." Pippin whispered, Ani turned to see that his face had lost all blood leaving him pale and trembling, a cold sweat had broken out across his forehead. A gust of wind from the east carried with it the cries and screams of men as the dark darting figures continued their assault.
"Good god," Anita whispered as the sounds of death filled her ears. " We have to do something Gandalf. Gandalf?" But by the time the girl turned around searching for an answer from the wizard, she found his spot next to the wall already vacated, barely catching a glimpse of Shadowmere as the wizard rode him down the pathway and out of sight.