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.
Author's Note: Holy hell this chapter ended being a few thousand words longer than intended!
Warrior- Evan's Blue
Chapter 62: Warrior
Night had fallen over the White Mountains giving a chill to the gusts of winds that broke over the caps and through canyons, but it wasn't the unseasonable chill that had Legolas awake at this late hour. Methodically he stroked a soft brush over Arod's neck and mane, trying to quell not only the horse's unease but his own as well. Anxiety was not a feeling he was overly familiar with, the strange quivering sensation in his chest that had his heart beating uneasily was fast becoming an annoyance to the normally controlled elf. Another rush of cold hair came whistling from the carved stone passage way that the Elven prince had been eyeballing nervously since he and his companions had arrived at Dunharrow with the Rohirrim. It was the road that would lead to the Dimholt, the Path of the Dead.
A twig snapped and the elf ungracefully swiveled around, expecting to see some undead creature looming up behind him. There was nothing there except for a leaf which had dislodged itself from a nearby tree to float away on the icy breeze. Legolas shook his head and turned back to Arod, who nervously pawed at the ground in response to the prince's own projecting emotions of unease. Returning to the task of brushing down the steed, Legolas couldn't remember a time he had ever felt so apprehensive when he wasn't around his father. He would be glad when they rode off tomorrow for Gondor, leaving his accursed place far, far away.
The prince became aware of the sensation of someone approaching, but chose to keep his focus on the job before him instead of his paranoia get the better of him. Legolas gave pause when he came to the realization that he couldn't hear the footfalls of the person approaching him, he was simply aware of their presence. This was odd. Humans were prone to making much noise when they walked about, Dwarves even more so, and being the only Elf in Dunharrow meant he should have been able to hear whoever approached. Pausing mid-stroke of the brush, the prince gave into his anxiety and turned to see who was coming. For the first time in his almost seven hundred year lifespan he was so startled by who he saw, he actually jumped and dropped the horse brush.
"Where is my daughter?" Elladan's piercing eyes bore into him, heavy with accusation.
"Elladan," The prince said in surprise, trying desperately to recover himself from his initial shock at seeing one of the lords of Rivendell here in Rohan of all places. Glancing past his Elven kinsman Legolas spotted Gimli several paces back looking sheepish and a little guilty; it came as no surprise that Elladan had been able to find him in the middle of the night with such efficiency. "I am surprised to find you here in Rohan."
"I have followed a trail of very distressing news, from Rivendell to Lorien and then to Edoras which has led me here, hoping to find my child among this company. Alas, is seems my search has been in vain as I have seen neither hide nor hair of my offspring."
Clearly he was irritated, that much was obvious, it left Legolas wishing he had better news to give the elf before him. Bidding his time to consider which way would be best to convey the news that Anita was no longer in Rohan, Legolas plucked the horse brush from the grass where he had dropped it and returned it to its rightful place among the other care items brought from the stables at Edoras; he then gently patted Arod's flanks and watched as the horse took the hint to wander off, knowing the steed wouldn't go far. With a resigned sigh the prince turned back to the irate father before him. "Anita has gone to Minas Tirith with Mithrandir."
"To Gondor?" Elladan asked, his eyes narrowing, "The very epicenter of where Sauron's wrath will strike the hardest? You have sent her off to the very belly of the beast instead of back to Rivendell where she could remain safely behind its walls. And where is Glorfindel? He was charged with the responsibility of looking after her, certainly not encouraging her to continue this escapade. When I see him he shall certainly be getting a piece of my mind about…"
"Glorfindel is dead." Legolas cut Elladan off mid-rant. "He met his end at Helm's Deep, protecting your daughter…protecting all who were trapped within those walls."
Elladan sat down on a nearby upturned log, his anger deflated in wake of the news about Glorfindel. "He is dead? This is distressing news indeed. We may have never agreed upon what was in Ani's best interest, but at least she would listen to him. She did not witness his death I hope?"
Legolas shook his head, "No she did not, but Anita buried him there, lit the pyre herself. I tried to send her home, attempted to convince her that it was not safe for her to continue, but she was so distressed after his death that she would not be tuned away from seeking retribution. Minas Tirith has high walls, it is the best defended city in the West, and I hoped she would find some semblance of safety there. "
"I have tried desperately to keep my children safe, to protect them from all the evils this world would have them suffer, but even my best intentions are undone." Elladan stood up to pace as he spoke, "Leila is satisfied to remain at home, in safety, with her family, her books, and her studies. If only Anita were content to do the same."
Legolas forcefully suppressed a smirk," Sounds similar to another that I know."
Elladan stopped to his pacing to focus on the tiny budding leaves of a tree, nodding in agreement with the prince's statement, "Yes I am aware, exactly like her mother she is."
"No, not like her mother," Legolas replied, stepping over to where Elladan was intently focused on the tree, "Yes she is wild and untamable, and she does not submit to social convention, but Arlandria was never combative. When things became difficult she would sooner run away from her problems than accept the consequences of facing them, she certainly wasn't in the habit of fighting for what she believed in. You see? Anita is not like her mother, she is like you."
This revelation caught Elladan off guard, but even as he tried to think of ways to discredit the prince's argument, he knew it in heart that everything Legolas had just said was true. Had he not in similar fashion abandoned his home to fight along his brother to save their mother from imprisonment? Had he not in his youth been a troublemaker in his own right? Had he not suffered through arguments with his father about his relationship with Arlandria the same way that he had fought with Anita about her relationship with Legolas? Elladan sighed to himself, "All along I feared she would follow the path her mother chose, it seems I was worried about her taking after the wrong parent." As he spoke the Elven lord was filled with guilt about the relationship he had with his child these past seven years in the wake of this new understandings; whether it had been done intentionally or not, he had taken his bitterness towards Arlandria and aimed it at his own child. It was decided then. "It has been many years since I have seen the White City."
Legolas raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You would ride with us in battle to Minas Tirith?"
The older elf nodded his head solemnly. "Indeed. Elrohir and I rode here among the Grey Company, bringing with us the men most loyal to Aragorn as well as omens from Rivendell, my journey must now be extended to Gondor; for if I have any hope of making amends with Anita then I must ensure she is alive to do so. I fear now I have not done my duty to her as a father, if she were to be mortally wounded before I could exonerate myself of this guilt I now bear, I will be beyond respite."
If Legolas had taken a second to reel in his own impulsiveness he would have no doubt thought better about his next statement, "I am glad to hear you say your attitudes have changed, mellonamin, for when Sauron is finally defeated I will ask for your blessing to marry Anita."
Elladan screwed up his face in a most unpleasant way, whether from it was anger Legolas couldn't tell because of the dramatic way his fellow elf had curled his lip. A drawn out moment of silence left the young prince pondering if it had been smart to spring the confession of a marriage proposal on Ani's father that way. Finally Elladan broke the rising tension with a chuckle and clasped the younger elf on the shoulder, "If we survive this encounter with the legions of the Dark Lord's armies then I shall give my hearty consent to your union. After all, it is not me you will need to persuade so much as the woman you yourself labeled as 'untamable'." Legolas was sure that Elladan had meant that as a bit of humor, he couldn't have known the barb that struck the young prince with that comment. It conjured up feelings of embarrassment and self-doubt along with the memory of his attempted proposal in Lothlorien, when Anita had been less than enthusiastic about the topic. The prince shook his head to break apart the images of the distressing memory. His friend was right, before any talk or thought could be turned to matrimony, first they had to survive.
One hundred leagues away in the White City of Minas Tirith, Anita awoke violently from a nightmare, stifling a scream as she sat up in bed. Her whole body trembled as her heart beat rapidly in her chest, the remnants of the horror her mind had just inflicted upon her for the last few hours. At least this time her nightmarish vision of Glorfindel dying wasn't the result of her own actions, so much as her former mentor had jumped in front of an attack that Sauron had aimed at her, taking the full brunt of the sword strike that had been meant to kill her. With full clarity she could see the look of malice that had been in the Dark Lord's eyes as his sword had arched over his head, right before Glo had pushed her out of the way. Ani prayed these nightmares would soon stop; it wasn't bad enough that they robbed her of what little sleep she could force herself to get, but those minutes right after waking, filled with fresh memories of bad dreams as her heart thundered away in her chest and fear had free rein of her emotions…that was the worst.
Putting her head in her hands, the elleth took a series of deep breaths and willed her mind to think about anything else until the sharp definition of her dreams dulled and faded away. She thought about sunsets as Gates Pass, she thought about apple blossoms, she thought about Leila's constant nagging about her studies…and then inevitably thought about how nothing in her life was even slightly similar to what it had been six months ago. No one's life was going to bear any resemblance to what it was six months ago at the rate that the current disaster with Sauron was rapidly spreading across the world.
A soft knock at the door prevented Ani from further lamenting the current mess that her existence was. Rolling out of bed, she shrugged her dark tunic on over her undershirt, hastily fastening the buttons on the front before opening the door. Surprise was an understatement when the person on the other side of the door was Pippin, dressed in his Citadel regalia, looking uncomfortable and nervous. "Pip, good morning." The elleth didn't try to mask how unexpected his presence at her door was, over the last few days the only time she had seen Pippin was when he was with Gandalf.
The hobbit, in turn, glanced her over and furrowed his brows, "Are you alright?" he asked, his voiced tinged with concern. Cocking and eyebrow in confusion, Ani turned her head to catch a glimpse of herself in the hanging mirror and immediately saw why her companion looked concerned. She looked haggard to say the least. Even if she hadn't been aware of it, Anita's hair was a telltale sign that she had been tossing and turning in her sleep; some of her hair curling in strange places and some of it was frizzy and standing on end, overall it had taken on a strange shape. If that weren't enough, in her haste to cover herself and appear decent, the girl had missed a button on the front of her tunic, subsequently making every other button incorrect and therefore her outfit was catawampus. To poor Pippin she must have looked like she had been in a bar fight. Scoffing at her own incompetence, the elleth set to work to correct the buttons, this time carefully making sure she had set the buttons correctly.
"So since I'm assuming you didn't come here to point out that I am NOT a morning person, what did you need Pip?" Anita asked as she crossed the room to retrieve the strap used to hold her hair back, smoothing back her crazy locks and forcing them into a tight braid as she walked.
"Today is the day I swear my oath to Denethor," Pippin focused on his toes as he spoke, "And Gandalf has fallen asleep; I tried my best to rouse him but could not wake him."
It took Anita a moment to find the hidden request in the hobbit's statement. "So since you can't wake up Gandalf you want me to go with you when you swear your oath?" Pip nodded in response, his head full of unruly curls bouncing around his boyish face. Had she still been living in Arizona, Ani would have been far more concerned with the old wizard who couldn't be woken up, but she had known Gandalf long enough by this time to know that if a Balrog couldn't kill that stubborn old man then he certainly wasn't going to be taken out in his sleep either. Ani also knew that for however little sleep she had managed to get since coming to Gondor, Gandalf was getting even less than she was…which was to say almost none.
Taking once last glance in the mirror to ensure she no longer sported the 'just rolled out of bed' look, the elleth followed behind the nervous hobbit as he padded down the hallway that led outside. A brisk wind raked across her face as soon as the duo stepped outside the protection the house's walls; Pippin visibly shivered with the sudden chill, Ani's eye were drawn to the sky and the dark menacing clouds that had blown over from Mordor. The sun's rays and subsequently its warm had no chance of breaking through the heavy cloud cover, leaving everyone to shiver either from the unseasonable cold or from the sense of impending doom.
The courtyard was nearly empty save for the guards required to stand their post, but there was a pointed lack of any other life; no messengers or maids, stable hands nor citizens were moving about, and Ani suspected that all of Minas Tirith lay dormant in a similar fashion. A whole day had passed since Faramir returned to the city with news that Osgiliath had been lost and the enemy was now crossing the river; since then the whole city had been holding a collective breath, waiting for the hordes of Mordor to finally attack. Most had expected the assault to come the next day but the sun had risen and set with no bloodshed, and instead of calming nerves it only served to heighten the anxiety around the city.
Nearing the great doors of the Hall, Pippin faltered and came to a stop on the last step of the short staircase. The small man took a few deep breaths in attempt to calm his nerves, shaking his head as his inhibition got the better of him. "What was I thinking? What service can a Hobbit offer such a great lord of men?"
Anita patted his shoulder comfortingly. "I thought it was a nice gesture…although truth be told I didn't think he would take you up on your offer."
"Me either!" Pip's head snapped up to look at her, "What if he expects me to fight? I wasn't expecting to fight!" The hobbits shoulder slumped sadly, "I am not brave like Frodo, or Aragorn, or you. I am so afraid."
The elf sighed and sat down on the one of the stairs, motioning for her companion to do the same. When Pippin had settled down next to her on the cold stone step she made a point of catching his eye and holding his gaze as she spoke. "Being brave does not mean you are not afraid. I will tell you now that Frodo and Aragorn feel the same fear that I do every morning when I wake up and think about what is happening in this world as we speak. Pippin, I am terrified of what tomorrow will bring. But just like Frodo, and Aragorn, and all the people of this city, and even like you, I have someone to fight for. I have a family back in Rivendell, a twin sister, who I am trying to protect by fighting. Think of all the folks in the Shire that can rest easily tonight because Peregrin Took has taken up the fight to save them from Sauron. That is more important than any amount of fear you could be feeling. That is what makes you brave."
"Wise counsel indeed." A third voice drew their attention away from the conversation they were having and to the young captain as he strode towards the stairs. "I see you are to join the tower guard."
Pip jumped up when Faramir addressed him, smoothing out his uniform as he did so. "Yes sir. That is if I can remember the oath I am to swear."
Faramir smirked, although the smile didn't reach his eyes which were darkened with thoughts of other things. "I think you will do just fine. Come now, my father is many things but patient is not one of them." Together man and hobbit entered the Hall with Anita trailing behind them. The white and black hall did little to warm the occupants when they came in from the icy winds outside, a different sort of cold altogether had settled within the Tower of Ecthelion.
"Ah! My newest Guard of the Citadel." Denethor's eyes settled on Pippin as the trio advanced up the aisle, the steward choosing to not acknowledge his own son or Anita. This sat just fine with the elleth since she was trying her best to avoid making eye contact with older man and draw unwanted attention. She certainly would not have chosen to enter this building again if Pippin hadn't asked her to accompany him. The hobbit hesitated when Denethor addressed him, coming to a stop directly in front of Ani. Placing a hand in the middle of his back the girl gave him a small but firm shove to force him to step forward. "Do you remember the words to the oath you are here to swear?"
Pippin nodded uneasily as he scrambled to remember all the words and the right order they went in. Denethor looked at him expectantly and the hobbit knelt in front of the Steward's throne. Slowly the small man repeated the solemn words he had memorized, "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 takes me."
"And I shall not forget it," Denethor said, standing from his throne and approaching the kneeling Hobbit, offering him the large signet ring on his hand to kiss, which Pippin did. "Nor fail to reward that which is given. Fealty with love. Valour with Honor." Turning to face Faramir, the Steward sneered," Disloyalty with vengeance." The Steward did not return to his throne but turned to an impromptu dining area which had been set up just off to the side of where the thrones were. Anita wondered why he would be taking meals in here instead of in his dining area and was instantly curious if the dining room had been damaged beyond repair when the Steward had thrown his bitch fit after their breakfast together. Not that she would ask.
Settling himself at the table to eat, the older man kept his steely dark eyes focused on Faramir. "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?" Faramir sighed, having obviously been prepared for this conversation when he entered the hall.
"I will not yield the River and Pellenor unfought. Osgiliath must be retaken."
"My Lord," Faramir replied through gritted teeth," Osgiliath is overrun." Anita and Pippin quietly watched the exchanged, their heads swiveling back and forth as two different personalities struggled against one another, the whole time Anita was trying to think of some way to slip out the door unnoticed since she had the sense this was not a conversation she was supposed to be privy to.
"Much must be risked in war." The steward snapped back. "Is there a Captain here who still has the courage to do his lord's will?"
It was in the face of that challenge that Faramir gave up, his stance changing ever so slightly in defeat. "You wish now that our places had been exchanged…that I had died and Boromir had lived."
There was a moment of heavy silence as everyone in the room prayed Denethor wouldn't respond to Faramir's accusation. The steward wouldn't even look at his son, "Yes, I wish that."
Ani could feel the sting of that sentence across the room, and Faramir's face contorted as though he had been struck. "Since you were robbed of Boromir I will do what I can in his stead. If I should return, think better of me, father." With that the captain turned to leave.
"That will depend on the manner of your return." Denethor mumbled in reply, although the elf could hear him easily. Pippin stood there staring as his toes with a look of horror on his face and Anita's dark eyes followed Faramir as he walked out the door essentially abandoned by his father. A familiar rage started to burn in her gut, fighting for the opportunity to unleash itself on the Steward of Gondor.
"He's your son…" Was the only thing Ani managed to whisper, her eyes firmly locked onto the doors that the young captain had just exited through.
"I have a country to protect, and therefor sacrifices must be made. Do not trouble me with Faramir, I know his uses and they are few." The girl was absolutely dumbfounded at the calloused way in which Denethor had just condemned his youngest and last living, son to a gruesome death at the hands of Sauron's orcs. How could any parent be so cruel?
"You're a heartless son of a bitch, you know that?" Anita did not wait for a response. She set her jaw and turned to follow Faramir, swearing there and then that if the impending attack on Minas Tirith didn't end with Denethor dying then she would gladly kill him herself. Exiting the Hall the elleth broke into a jog to catch up to the man who was already many paces ahead of her. "Faramir!" She called after him hoping to get his attention before he entered the House, but he did not acknowledge her. Sprinting the rest of the way across the courtyard, she caught up to Faramir as he ascended the stairs to the private family rooms on the second floor of the massive white house of Kings.
"Faramir," She said his name again, knowing she was well within the distance where he could hear her, but again he did not respond. "Faramir please don't do this." She pleaded with him.
"You would have me deny my lord?" He threw over his shoulder, not looking at her. Anita didn't care, stubbornly following Faramir down the hallway to his room.
"Yes I would have you deny him because it's suicide! There is nothing to be gained by your dying out there." As she spoke Faramir opened the door to his room, Ani boldly following him inside and watched as he collected his personal gear and weapons.
"You do not understand." He replied simply, sheathing his sword on his belt and throwing a pack over his shoulder. A young page boy peaked into the room and Faramir's eyes instantly turned to him, "Run and tell Beregond to assemble me a company of men." The boy disappeared just as suddenly as he had appeared, and Anita realized that Faramir did indeed intend to go through with this madness.
Stepping in front of him as he made to leave, Anita flicked the door shut with a resounding thud, blocking his attempt to exit the room. "You don't think I get it?" She hissed at him. "You don't think I understand what it's like to be the outcast? You don't think I know what it's like having a father who holds me to some ridiculous standard and always manages to make me feel small and inept when I fail to meet those standards? You don't think I understand what it feels like to know I will never measure up to my father's ideal?! And then to have a sister who, with ease, not only meets but surpasses all our father's expectations making her the instant favorite and making my failures all the more spectacular? But I couldn't hate her even if I really wanted to because she is the only person who doesn't judge me every time I fail, she is the only one whose love isn't dependent on me giving up a part of my soul to conform and be like everybody else! I get it Faramir; in fact I may be the only person on this God forsaken rock who does understand. And I am telling you, getting yourself killed won't earn your father's love."
They stared each other down, Anita let her words sink into Faramir, hoping and pleading that it would appeal to his good senses. But the captain would not be so easily deterred. "You spoke to the Halfling not but moments ago about bravery, and now you ask me to display cowardice."
"There is a difference between bravery and bravado!" She bit back at him. The elleth was getting the sinking feeling in her soul that her words were falling on deaf ears.
Faramir attempted to step around her, but Anita countered and again blocked his path. Glaring down at her he sneered, "You Elves have always thought yourselves so superior to all others."
"You and your father aren't exactly proving us wrong right now." Ani retorted without missing a beat, both her and the captain's voices were quickly rising to shouts.
"My father is a great man!"
"Your father is cuckoo for coco-puffs!" She bellowed, "The only thing he cares about is maintaining power and he will watch this city burn to the ground and have the streets paved with the bones of its citizens just to spite the man who would call himself the rightful King!" Faramir didn't have an immediate answer to the girl's accusation, especially since her words rang with bitter truth. Their eyes locked in that intense moment of silence, her eyes begging him to see reason as his eyes swirled with indecision. But in the end her argument for reason held no sway, and the young guard captain pushed his way passed the smaller elleth to open the door.
"I have a duty to perform." He said stoutly, leaving her alone in his quarters to ponder at her failure. The sound of his footsteps retreated down the hall and to the stairwell as Ani considered where she had gone wrong. She had tried appealing to his sense of survival, something that Glorfindel had assured her in training was the basest instinct of all, but that had not worked. She had tried to make him see that his father's will was malicious at best, and that had failed as well. It occurred to her that perhaps the reason Faramir had not heeded her rationalization was because she had been trying to persuade him to not die, instead maybe she needed to give him a reason to live.
Spinning on her heels, Anita chased down Faramir for the second time that morning. The young man was nearly halfway across the Citadel by the time she came tearing out of the house, bounding across the courtyard. "Faramir!" She yelled desperately, realizing as she chased him that she must have looked like a crazy person to the guards watching this spectacle.
"Is there no better employment of your time?" Faramir's voice was steely, his heart hardened against any further supplications on her part.
"Faramir think about your city." The elleth fell into step with him easily, even though it was obvious he was trying to escape her.
"I am."
"No you're not." She countered. "The people will need someone to follow…a leader, a champion that they can look too when all hope seems lost. Who better than a son of Gondor?" As they followed the path down from the Citadel and to the Sixth level where the soldiers were stationed, her voice became more and more desperate. He was flat out ignoring her now; choosing not to acknowledge that she was still begging him to stay alive, neither with words nor glancing in her direction. His jaw was set and his shoulders were squared with decision. As they neared the barracks, an older man dressed in the livery of the Tower came out to greet the young captain. The older man bowed his head as Faramir approached.
"Beregond," Faramir nodded to the older man while continuing his efforts to ignore the elf following him around. "Do the men stand ready?"
"They will soon, Captain," Beregond said as he fell into step with Faramir, walking to the barracks in close confidence. "I have your armor prepared and waiting for you."
This was bad. Anita knew that if Faramir were to enter the barracks then any hope she had of persuading him to ignore his father's command would be lost. Surrounded by his men her reasons and argument would be less than worthless. As Beregond broke away from his Captain to check on the status of the horses, the elleth knew she only had a few chances left to say anything that would have enough of an effect to convince the young captain to derelict his duty to his father. "Please Faramir," At this point she didn't even care that her voice held a hint of whimper in it, "See reason. Your people will need you here in Minas Tirith."
He didn't even turn around. Ani's voice may as well have been carried off in a breeze never to be heard by anyone. Coming to a halt in the stone covered courtyard, defeat filled her as she watched his lithe form stride to his doom. The elf only had one trick left, anxiety seized her as she grasped the understanding that if this didn't work then she had lost him to his own fate.
"This is not what Boromir would have wanted for you!" Anita's voice rang out strong, her words echoing off the stone buildings surrounding them. There was no way he could pretend to have not heard her now. Indeed Faramir paused mid-step, turning to look at her silently. His intense and focused eyes burned into hers; stretching the few seconds they held her gaze into what felt like hours. This had to work. Anita prayed that it worked. Her whole life, one of the only people Anita had ever listened to was Leila; it didn't matter that she was always being compared to her near perfect twin, animosity couldn't break the bond they shared as siblings. The elleth hoped beyond reason that Faramir and Boromir's relationship had been tried and tested similarly. For only a second, time stood still while she waited for the young man before her to answer her back.
Then Faramir turned and entered the barracks without sparing another glance in her direction.
Self-condemnation suddenly landed on the girl with full force, a heavy burden that constricted her chest and made her knees buckle; and the girl crumbled under its weight, sliding to her knees in the middle of the stone courtyard. It didn't matter that her breakdown was very public, it didn't matter that she was in everyone's direct path…Anita didn't care. Remaining there on her knees, hands helplessly woven in her lap, the elleth took controlled deep breathes trying to quell the despair and guilt that fought for dominance in her heart. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, forcing the girl to tilt her head up to stay the water in her eyes so determined to fall.
With her eyes firmly fixed on the black mass of clouds rolling over the city, the girl was left to ponder at such a cruel twist of fate, that for the second time in her life she had to watch a man walk out the door to his certain death.