A/N: An awfully long chapter, and I needed so much time to write it. Sorry for the delay!! Luckily, I finally seem to come to Minas Tirith…at least one stage of the journey appears to be over.

One question: How are the Men of Gondor called? Gondorians? Or something like that? I couldn't find that in the books, yet I hope that some of you might know it…

Lady MR: You mentioned that it had to be March instead of November, but I changed the dates. In my story it *is* November. You'll see why….

Kara Angelle: Of course, your review was helpful and I didn't take it as a flame. Instead, I'm truly thankful for correcting my mistakes!!!

Aralondwen: Your reviews are just great, they encourage me to go on!!!!!! Thanks a lot, *hugs you*

Disclaimer: I don't belong anything, Master Tolkien owns it, although I truly wish to have Aragorn…. and Legolas…. and …… (And as for the poem, you can find it in chapter "The Council of Elrond", for those who are interested….)

Through the Eastfold and Anórien

Two hours ere the sun appeared on the eastern sky, the Fellowship had already gathered their gear and eaten their breakfast. They left Déor's house and went through the still sleeping city to meet Gandalf at the stables. The air was clear and cold, a chill wind had come up again and the friends considered themselves lucky to have such warm cloaks like the ones they had wrapped around their bodies.

As they drew closer, they spotted Gandalf standing beside one man of the Rohirrim who was holding two horses. They were tall stallions, a coat as smooth as a polished mirror, reflecting the light of Gandalf's torch. Moving restlessly, their color differed from sandy-brown to a dark mahogany. The left one was not saddled but both bore reins and seemed ready to cover great distances in a short time.

"I hope that you are not tired anymore," the wizard greeted his comrades friendly. "King Théoden ordered his men to give us these horses, two of their swiftest and most enduring. Legolas, you shall take the left one, Arod it is called and I was told that it is used to be ridden in Elf-fashion, without any saddle. Gimli, you will ride with Legolas, and Merry and Pippin shall take Hasufel, promised to be gentle and calm."

Undeniably the Dwarf looked uncomfortable but sensing their need for haste, he did not object despite his normal behavior.

"They are fair stallions," Legolas said as he gently rubbed over Arod´s nostrils, "we will care for them as if they would be our own. Gandalf, will you take no horse? I can see only two, but we are five."

The wizard smiled, then he turned and stared into the night, calling "Shadowfax". Soon the sound of hooves could be heard, running fast with long strides, powerful. A great gray horse appeared out of the dark, its silver mane flowing in the wind, looking as if the north wind itself had become alive and crossed the plains. No saddle disturbed this picture, no reins, a horse not tamed but drawn to Men by its own will.

"Shadowfax," Gandalf repeated, "swiftest of all, you heard my call." Then he again turned to his astonished friends surrounding him and the horse. "Last September I got this stallion from King Théoden after my escape from the Orthanc. I was brought here to Rohan by Gwaihir, the Windlord, but the King did not listen to my warnings of the treason of Isengard. He bade me to take a horse and leave. So I chose Shadowfax, best of all that there were, are and will be. Needless to say," the wizard added somewhat mischievously, "Théoden was not pleased but he did not hinder me to ride away."

"Never have I seen better," Legolas admitted, "not in any stable of any Elf I have ever met." A great praise that was, coming from the proud Elf.

"Let us set out now," Gandalf then ordered. "Our way is still far and the more leagues we cover today the better it is. The birds are telling of evil things going on in Gondor and the White Tower may not withstand for long anymore, if no aid is coming. We will bring tidings of the ride of the Rohirrim, may that improve the Men's courage and will!"

With these words the wizard mounted Shadowfax, only a moment later Legolas followed. Gimli looked up to the tall Elf and sighed. "Never have I thought that I would ever ride on a horse and now I do not even complain."

Legolas smiled and reached out for the Dwarf. "You shall come to notice that horses are useful and a great gift towards anyone walking on two feet. From now on our journey will be far less exhausting."

In the meanwhile Merry and Pippin had mounted Hasufel with the Rohirrim's support and clutched onto the reigns uncomfortably. Their horse seemed too tall to them and the ground looked far away. "What, if I swoon suddenly?" Pippin quietly muttered. "All my bones will break."

Each of the members of the Fellowship lifted his right hand and waved good-bye as the great gates were opened and they left Edoras one and a half days after they had entered the City of the Golden Hall. Within a few meters the black night swallowed the guards, the wall, the houses and they were alone again. They would be just on themselves during their ride to Gondor, just on themselves to bring the tidings of soon arriving help and therefore new courage.

By the time the first rays of the sun were coloring the eastern sky, the Fellowship had already covered many leagues. Ever they kept on the great North-South-Road connecting the Shire with Minas Tirith, running along the mountains, but they met no other travelers, not a strange thing in these days when everyone who could, tried to stay at home to keep out of war. The rumor of Sauron´s great Orc hosts leaving Mordor had spread throughout whole Middle-earth and had left everyone in great fear for their and their families lives. Thousands of ugly and cruel Orcs, it was said, were approaching from the East and their leaders were said to be the Nazgûl, the Ringwraiths, the nine former kings of Men who had once received the Rings of Power and now had become the Dark Lord's servants. Shadows, only living on Sauron's will. Frightening all the free people, they thundered across the lands in the shape of Black Riders, no Man was able to look upon them and if he did, his heart would refuse to keep on beating and his mind would become mad.

'The hosts aim at Minas Tirith to destroy the Tower of Guard,' Gandalf thought as he was leading Shadowfax towards a swampy pond where he could drink, 'and when the White Tower will have fallen, not anything will be able to keep them from destroying all the realms in Middle-earth and shadow will sway across the lands. Sauron, with or without the Ring, will become master and soon everyone, who had not been killed, will be enslaved and the sun will never return. But is it not true, that Aragorn's fate and the one of the Ring are inseparably connected?

Seek for the Sword that was Broken:

In Imladris in dwells;

There shall be counsels taken

Stronger than Morgul-spells.

There shall be shown a token

That Doom is near at hand,

For Isildur´s Bane shall waken,

And the Halfling forth shall stand.

From Gondor Boromir brought this with him and for thousands of years it has been passed from father to son. The Broken Sword will bring doom, but only if the Ring is found. Shall I believe in this? The Ring has been found, Frodo is on his way, seeking to destroy it in the fires of Mount Doom, but the Blade that was Broken dwells no longer in Aragorn's hand. How can Andúril come to our aid, when its bearer is captured by the Enemy and cannot escape? Will our Quest be successful without it slaying the Orcs and decorating the King after our victory? Aragorn, you were destined to lead Andúril to war! You and the Ring should destroy the Dark Lord that He would never return again! Has everything been useless and is the shadow inevitable?'

The wizard knew no answer to this question. Even he, wise in lore, could not say whether their fate would only be decided by the Ringbearer or if it only would turn out well when also the rightful King of Gondor returned from exile and fought side by side with his men.

Gandalf turned his head to look for his friends. Legolas looked completely pleased with his horse and a small smile was on his fair face. Gimli, though, was still having trouble with this new mean of transportation, he showed a grim expression, and by now the Elf sitting in front of him had to have marks of his fingers in his flesh. Indeed the Dwarf clung onto Legolas that it almost hurt, his fear of falling down was immense, but still he felt some admiration for the Elf riding skillfully and with great grace. Hasufel bore the Hobbits in a slow trot, truly he now showed the promised calmness. Never let he himself be disturbed by their constant squirming and turning, he just followed Shadowfax and Arod as if he knew that he should not pay any attention to his little riders.

At noon the wizard called for a short halt to rest the horses and to have them drinking at the banks of a small stream. Already they had come quite a way and if they could continue as they had until now, they would have reached the Firienwood in the evening. The Eastfold then would be behind them and the ride through Anórien would only take another day and a half. 'The horses became a great gift,' Gandalf mused as he was looking eastward where Minas Tirith lay hidden behind the high mountains of the Gondorian northern border. 'Without them we would have come far too late to assist the Men in their fight. Even now I do not know whether everything will be in vain.'

Soon the Fellowship was on its way again. Each felt the need for haste and even the Hobbits did not linger since they were driven by the wish to see Frodo and Sam. Thinking they soon would return from Mordor to meet them at Minas Tirith, neither Pippin nor Merry complained about the short and few halts. Slowly also Gimli grew accustomed to the horses and their way of moving. Even the height did not frighten him anymore and Legolas was relieved when the pressure applied by the Dwarf's fingers gradually wore off. During the hours they were riding on, Gimli's mind turned more and more from thinking about how not to fall down from the stallion to Aragorn and the situation in Gondor. Never before had the Dwarf seen the White Tower and except the Ranger and Boromir he had not met many Men in his whole life. However, even among his people tales of the Númenoreans were told, of their rise and fall, of their greatness in ancient times and of the cities which still showed their craft and sense for beauty. 'And Minas Tirith is said to be the greatest of all,' he thought. 'The Tower of Guard is admired by everyone who had the chance to look upon it and it is told that the whole city gleams in dazzling white when the sun is shining. May I lay my eyes upon this great seat of Men! May I see its greatness and may I be aid to rescue it from doom!'

As the afternoon was slowly turning into evening and night, the mountains began to rise and grew higher. The peaks looked like pillars supporting the great weight of the sky and their shadows were stretching eastward in the light of the setting sun. Ever had the range of Ered Nimrais been the northern border of Gondor, protecting it from its enemies but being also a clear sign that there was the boundary of a new realm which still, despite now being far from its greatest power and influence, showed some of the greatness and supremacy of the Kings of Old. Even now many northern people shivered at merely hearing the words 'Gondor' or 'Minas Tirith' and its warriors were known for their outstanding courage and bravery in all Middle-earth. They were well trained with arms and from children to old men everyone was familiar with the way of how to wield a blade or use a bow.

The shadow of a smile passed across Legolas' face. 'They call themselves Dúnedain of the South, and they bear this name with pride but never could any man of Gondor be compared to any of the North! Everyone who had once laid eyes upon any of Aragorn's kindred can tell that these are of higher lineage, greater pride and skill! It is plain that the line of kings in this land disappeared long ago, and people have forgotten their manner and approach on many matters. In the city have they mostly lived and only trained their men for war! They never remembered to teach their children the old ways of nobility! This is truly a pity! On many occasions have I seen the Dúnedain of the South riding along the Anduin, but their northern kin is just more than them. In every moment you are looking into Aragorn's eyes his royalty is revealed and you can perceive the greatness of his fathers, from Elendil and Isildur until Arathorn! I could spot naught of this in the eyes of any man of Gondor!'

Suddenly the Elf was ripped out of his thoughts by an abrupt stop of Arod. Looking up he could see Gandalf dismounting in front of him and the Hobbits already gathering some dry wood for fire. He had been so deeply lost, that he had not noticed Gandalf reining up Shadowfax and calling for rest. Another day had passed and they had covered many leagues. Like the wizard had predicted at noon, they had reached the western eaves of Firienwood and the small river Mering was waiting to be crossed in the early morning of the next day. Then only the vast plains of Anórien would be stretching out in front of them and Minas Tirith would not be far anymore. Finally their aim was almost at reach!

After Gimli had glided from the horse, Legolas as well jumped down and looked around. He indeed liked what he saw. High trees were protecting the Fellowship from any wind and, if snow would be falling this night, it also would not get through as easily as if they had camped on the open plain. The Elf's stern features softened a bit and after some minutes he knelt down to lit the branches the Hobbits had brought to their resting place.

Blankets they had gotten from the Rohirrim were spread on the ground, and they all gathered around the warm fire. For a moment only the cracking of the dry wood disturbed the silence, otherwise it was completely calm, neither wind nor any animal could be heard. The food as well was passed around without anyone speaking, and only after they had finished eating a soft grin flashed across Gimli's face as he remembered his pipe and fumbled it out of his gear. Peacefully he began to smoke and soon the others save Legolas joined him.

"Gandalf, may I ask you something?" Merry suddenly said out of nothing.

Interested the wizard turned his head to the small Hobbit, nodding invitingly.

"What are you going to do when we will have reached Minas Tirith? Great battle is awaiting us, you say, but we are only five and although Gimli, Legolas and you are great warriors for sure, Pippin and I will not be of much use, will we? So far we have often been merely a burden to you and the others."

Gently the wizard touched the Hobbit's hand. "Nay, never have you two been a burden. It might seem to you that you have done naught but following our steps but this was not so. For the time Frodo and Sam still were with us, you were great support for your friends and after their leave we would not have been able to journey faster if you had gone with them. And may fate know, perhaps the time will come when you two will save Middle-earth and not any of the tall Men, proud Elves or stout Dwarfes! Not to mention the old wizards. And for the first part of your question: To Minas Tirith we only will bring tidings of the ride of the Rohirrim! Already the Men might be in fight with Orcs and good tidings are always welcome. Do not look so disappointed! Before Boromir's death and Aragorn leaving you at Tol Brandir it had been important to get these warriors to their city as soon as possible. Now, that this is not our business anymore, we nevertheless should not slacken our pace! In times of war haste is always in need and those who delay, may die or miss renown!"

The Hobbits at last seemed to be satisfied but Legolas stared into Gandalf's eyes. 'When will you finally tell them what we fear? You cannot keep them in uncertainty forever!' he mouthed.

The wizard shortly glanced at Merry and Pippin ere he returned to look at the Elf. 'Later, when they are asleep, we will talk of this matter!' he replied likewise.

Frowning Legolas accepted Gandalf's promise. The Elf had realized that he had made a great mistake in not telling the Hobbits about their guesses at Aragorn's fate. With their last remark they had shown that they were not as immature anymore as he had always seen them, and now he feared that they would be greatly hurt when getting to know about it this late. 'They will feel left out and even more they will be worried about Aragorn. They admired him and looked upon him not only for his skill as a guide but also for his kindness to them. Never had he treated him as if he would consider them unimportant and he respected their wishes and needs. He would have been a great leader of Men!'

The flames of the fire were flickering in the wind as the Hobbits cast themselves down on their blankets and fell asleep. The horses had been a great gift and the two nights in Edoras had only done them well, of course, but nevertheless everyone felt the weariness of such a long and strenuous journey. Wrapping his cloak around him tightly, Gimli as well said good-night soon and left Legolas and Gandalf on their own.

"You wanted to discuss something with me, didn't you?" Gandalf asked the Elf after he had reassured himself that all of the others were fast asleep and none seemed to be awake to be able to eavesdrop.

"I merely wanted to know about the time when you will tell the Hobbits about our fears concerning Aragorn. I have realized my mistake of shutting them out."

"Are you sure that it was not right? Do you really think that they should have known about it from the very beginning? I do not! I believe that your decision was the right one, and any other choice would have been wrong. What good would it have done if you had told them? Fear about Aragorn would have been added to their worries about Frodo and Sam, and I do not believe that they would have done as well then as they did now."

The Elf did not reply at once, considering Gandalf's words he sat quietly and did not even stir slightly.

"You may be right," he said at last, "but nevertheless we will have to tell them soon. Before we will have reached Minas Tirith, to be exact. What would you do, if we arrived there and Aragorn was missing without anyone having tidings of him?"

The wizard sighed softly. "I will show them Aragorn's necklace in the next evening and inform them about our guesses at his fate. Tomorrow they still shall ride on without knowing the truth."

Nodding slowly Legolas watched Gandalf's face. The wizard had turned his eyes from the Elf and stared into the shadows of the surrounding trees. To Legolas he seemed to be older than ever before, more weary and exhausted. 'The thoughts about Aragorn are haunting him always, his mind is never allowed to rest. Hope has left him long ago and he has to fight with the images of his friend's torture. He is no Elf and lacks our gift of suppressing the evil thoughts. Alas, that I had no better tidings for him!'

For a while both were silent, each finding comfort in the other's presence but not wanting to speak about their feelings. The flames were flickering, a cold wind had come up again. Moving shadows covered a part of Gandalf's face, making it looking hollow and drained.

"Does hope still dwell in your heart?" Legolas at last asked softly, suddenly finding the silence uncomfortably, the howling of the wind seeming to be louder and creepier than before.

Gandalf started and looked up. Pain was in his eyes and a hint of desperation was clearly visible.

"I…," he began ere he trailed off again and his expression became stronger. "Hope is a strange thing, isn't it?" he said then, looking at a bright star shining through the treetops. "You know that it is not possible that he could have escaped or that he will ever return, but still you are telling yourself that there might have been a chance to run away. Even the thought that He whom we do not name does not want to kill him enters your mind. You want to believe this so badly, but in the end you feel that Aragorn will die."

The old wizard sat slumped and his tall form appeared little under his cloak. "Yes, I feel it and in my heart there only dwells fear for Aragorn, and the knowledge that his death will be full of agony and pain is almost killing me! In the nights I cannot banish the images of my friend being tortured cruelly and the Enemy standing by him, laughing, encouraging his servants or even tormenting Aragorn himself. It haunts me all the time!"

The Elf was almost surprised at this outburst. Never having expected Gandalf to show his fears so clearly, he reached out with his right hand and laid it on the wizard's knee. A small gesture of friendship and comfort, but still it seemed to help the other.

"Thank you, Legolas," he said quietly, "you do not know how important it is for me to have you around. I know that Aragorn and you have been close, and that you are also his friend makes it easier for me to come over my pain. Alas, sometimes I wish to have the Elvish gift of suppressing the evil!"

A small smile crossed Legolas' face. "For a long time have we been dwelling here in Middle-earth and if we would remember everything that is evil, our days would not be glad anymore. In my life I have already seen many friends die and the Shadow began to creep over the lands again, although I am still considered young among my people, old among others only."

He paused for a moment. "Let me take over your watch," the Elf then said. "Sleep will relieve you from your suffering and the days are long enough."

"Indeed, indeed. But night brings no oblivion, waking thoughts only turn to dream-images, not less cruel." Nevertheless the wizard rose and made some steps away from the fire. Sighing softly, he cast himself down and closed his eyes. He never noticed the painful glance from Legolas, who did not suffer less only for being an Elf.

'It is true,' he mused, 'Elves may have the gift of being able to forget their pain for a while and otherwise we would not endure the centuries without losing our sanity, nevertheless we never disregard our friends' fate. But maybe we are thinking differently, their pain not consuming us. Alas, I would wish to understand the mortals!"

He unconsciously lifted his head but suddenly a bright star caught his eyes. It was the same Gandalf had stared at before. Its light was pure, beautiful and brought comfort to the Elf's heart. Shining in the far west, it stood high upon the sky. It was the evening star.

´The evening star," Legolas murmured softly, "how beautiful it is! Undómiel!"

'Undómiel, why did I have to see you?' he then almost cried out, nearly waking the others. 'Arwen Undómiel, why did your star appear now when we fear your beloved's death? It is torture for me! My mind needs rest, I am weary, and then I catch sight of you! In long nights Aragorn told me about you and I listened to his words of love. His voice so soft and tender! The worry fled out of his eyes! Moments of happiness on our perilous journey! Why do I have to see you now? Do you want to tell me that we should not give up our hope? Or do you want to say that only your star remains in Middle-earth for your heart broke when you heard of Aragorn's death? Alas, I wish I had not looked upon you! Would you only be able to speak, then you could confirm my hope or my fear! But now, I can merely guess. Should I hope or grief? Will I ever see my friend again or will he be lost forever? Dying in the Nameless Land or bearing the Winged Crown? Alas, Undómiel! Vanish and appear again only when you have better tidings!'

The Elf's head fell down on his chest and a small tear emerged on his cheek. He often had thought that he could bear his pains and hide his fears but now, being alone, all of them surfaced and he silently wept for the suffering of his friend. He never noticed that Merry had woken and watched him crying about something the young Hobbit did not know.

On the next morning Merry surveyed his Elvish friend closely. Not anything, though, indicated that there had happened something the night before. Again he was the proud Elf, a little bit unapproachable, but still friendly to everyone who wanted to speak to him. During the day, the Hobbit almost forgot about the events and every time he thought about it and glanced at Legolas, the other met his eyes and smiled – like he had ever done before. Legolas himself concentrated less on Merry than on Gandalf but as well he could not make out any difference. The wizard led them with his usual determination, he never wavered about which way to go, he never showed any negative emotions. It even seemed to the others that he became happier with each league they got closer to Minas Tirith.

For the whole day they were riding on, steadily approaching the city. The peaks of the mountains showed more white with each passing hour, the snow came down from the very top to some hundred meters above their way. The air was crystal clear and Legolas could make out the far away shadows of Ephel Duath, the mountain range bordering Mordor. It seemed like an impenetrable wall, with no gates to enter the realm of the Dark Lord. At this thought a shiver ran down the Elf's spine. 'Frodo and Sam are taking this way. They have to go into the Nameless Land, Mount Doom cannot be reached otherwise. May fate protect them! May they not fall into the Enemy's hands! Only if they succeed, our quest might turn out well.'

"Can you already spot Minas Tirith?" Gimli suddenly mocked him from behind. Legolas fell down onto the horse's back, he had not noticed at all that he had straightened himself. The Elf turned his head and glared at the Dwarf. His friend lifted his hands in a defending gesture and a quick smile flashed across Legolas' face.

"Sure I can," he grinned. "I already smell the women cooking our welcoming meal and the men decorating the city for our honor."

"This is very good," the Dwarf answered likewise. "I hope they will not give us this terrible lembas we have to eat all the time."

Legolas did not reply. Nothing he could tease Gimli with came to his mind and so he put it down and got serious again. "Nay, I was just looking whether we will reach the Druadan Forest this day or if we have to camp on the open plains. But I expect that we will arrive there at dusk," he quickly added, suspecting the distress the thought of an open campsite caused in Gimli.

The Elf's guess turned out right. While darkness was falling they approached the wood and ere it was completely dark, they had already found a suitable place to spend the night.

"I hope that this will be the last time we have to light a fire," Merry said as he was gathering branches. Routine had settled and none had to think about their different duties anymore.

Gimli laughed. "Already tired of our little trip?" For the entire day he had been in a good mood and could not stop teasing his comrades.

Merry showed his teeth. "If you want to know it exactly: Yes, I am. I again want to sleep in a comfortable bed without having to stay up in the middle of the night to keep watch over a Dwarf I do not like very much!"

"Stop arguing, my little friends," Gandalf suddenly roused his voice. "We have to fight against too many things, and we do not need to make new enemies within a group that is supposed to stick together for some time. But," he added, "Merry you do not have to worry. Ere next dusk will have fallen, we will have arrived in Minas Tirith. It is not far away anymore and if fate does not harm us, you also will be able to sleep in a warm bed after you will have eaten so much that you will think that your stomach is going to explode."

The Hobbit laughed. Peacefully he extended his hand and Gimli took it. "Friends again," they said and smiled.

Supper having passed without any interruptions, everyone took out his pipe and began to smoke. Weed was rare and only Gandalf and Merry still had some of the one they had taken with them from Rivendell. Laughing they shared it with the others, hoping that they could refill their supplies in Minas Tirith. Silence finally settled on the comrades after a day they had been as happy as they had not been for long. Merry indeed had forgotten Legolas' crying from the night before, but the Elf still remembered Gandalf's promise to tell the Hobbits about Aragorn. Having finished smoking, he sought to look into the wizard's eyes. The other nodded slowly.

'The moment I have feared for long,' he sighed and sent a stream of smoke from his lips. Righting himself up, he prepared himself for the Hobbits' reaction.

"Merry, Pippin," Gandalf softly said, "would you listen for a moment?"

Interested they both glanced at him but sensing that the following would be important, they did not speak.

"We have always told you that Aragorn left for Minas Tirith, haven't we? But to say the truth, we do not think so." The wizard paused for a moment to let the words sink in. "Indeed Legolas already guessed at Tol Brandir that he had been wrong. Something he found made him think differently and that is exactly the thing that makes me think like him, either." Gandalf waited a second, then he fumbled for Aragorn's lost necklace. Finally he drew it out of one of his pockets and held it so that the Hobbits could see it in the light of the fire.

They gasped. "That's Aragorn's, isn't it?" Pippin whispered, reaching for it. "It is torn," Merry murmured. "What does that mean?"

Gandalf glanced at Legolas who nodded slowly. "Legolas, Gimli and I think that it indicates that Aragorn has been captured by the Orcs you fought against. I know Aragorn, and Legolas spoke with him about his necklace either, he would never just loose it. It is too precious to him, a memory of someone he loves deeply."

The Hobbits were silent for a moment, absently playing with the necklace between their fingers. "Why did you not tell us at once, Legolas? Don't you  trust us?" Merry finally wanted to know, sounding hurt.

Looking miserably, the Elf sighed,. "That has not been my reason. I only wanted to protect you from additional worries. You have always thought of Frodo and Sam, and your mind was preoccupied with their fate. I could not guess what the fear about Aragorn would have done to you. Forgive me for my mistake! Only lately have I realized that I had been wrong!"

Legolas paused for a moment, unsure whether he should continue, but in the end he decided to tell the whole truth, even if it was unlike his normal behavior to share his soul with others. "Also, by not telling you I did not have to admit that there was no hope for Aragorn, that it was the only truth that he had been captured. Choosing not to tell you, I still could say to myself that I had been wrong in supposing that the Orcs had taken away our friend. If I had told you, I would have had to accept the truth – and I did not want that. The reality is too cruel, too hopeless."

"You are terribly worried about Aragorn, aren't you?" Merry asked after some minutes of silence. "Yesterday night I saw you crying…," he trailed off then, not wanting to hurt the other's feelings. After all, he was not sure whether he should have mentioned his observations at all.

Legolas looked up startled. "I was crying…," he murmured faintly, "indeed I was." He drew a deep breath, as if wanting to prepare himself or only to delay his answer. "Aragorn has been a great friend and even thinking about his fate breaks my heart. He will be tortured by the Orcs, finally death may await him, one full of agony and pain… Even an Elf cannot stand the images of a suffering friend. Yesterday my feelings were too overwhelming and I succumbed to them. I should not have done so!"

Reassuringly Gimli patted Legolas' shoulder but did not speak. There was nothing he could say to ease the Elf's pain. 'He must be ashamed,' the Dwarf mused, 'never has he been used to show his soul to mortals. And the worst, no one can help him to overcome his feelings of guilt. He thinks that he could have saved Aragorn, but if he had he been at the Man's side, anyone of the others had been captured. Maybe Aragorn even sacrificed himself to distract the Orcs from Frodo. If the Hobbit had been brought to the Barad-Dûr, a fate far worse than anything we experience right now, would have awaited us. The Ruling Ring would have found way its way back to its master.' A cold shiver ran down the Dwarf's spine at merely imagining that.

The cheerful mood of before was destroyed but Gandalf nevertheless was pleased with the Hobbits' reaction. Having expected hurt expressions since they would feel left out, he never had thought them to behave so mature, so solemn. 'They have learned a great deal during our journey so far. They have become adults and if they ever return to the Shire, they will become highly honored and many of their people will look up to them.'

"Go to sleep," the wizard then suddenly said. "It will do no good if you are just sitting around in the cold. Tomorrow we will arrive at Minas Tirith and maybe battle will come thither also. So prepare yourselves to fight, the Orcs will not let you get into the city so easily."

Legolas glanced at the other, wanting to object, but a flaring look from Gandalf's eyes closed his mouth again ere he had said anything. Still he was grateful to be able to rest, confessing his feelings had left him ashamed and now he preferred to be able to hide under his cloak. Like the others he cast himself down and fell asleep surprisingly soon.

'He is proud,' Gandalf mused as his eyes were resting upon his tired comrades, 'but today he showed great courage. If I would know what courage we all will need in the next days, my heart would be glad. Battle and war are awaiting us, but the end is unknown and even if victory will be achieved, my most difficult duty is still to come: Bringing my friend home for a last time. When the Enemy's forces will be destroyed, I will enter the Nameless Land and bring him home from the Barad-Dûr. Never could I bear the thought that I had left his body in the Dark Land, lying among Orcs, becoming food for rats. I have to bring him home, home to his City, the place where he should have returned to with great honor and praise. He should have become our king, leading Middle Earth into a new age, into the time when Men will gain dominion and the Elves, wizards and all other speaking people will disappear and become forgotten. Alas, at least Aragorn shall be brought home. The last favor I will be able to show with my friendship and gratitude towards him. There have been so many things that I can be grateful of, and meeting Aragorn is one of them. Alas, my dear friend, I wish a better fate had awaited you!'

The night was dark and sad and Gandalf's mood improved only when after many hours the sun was finally rising to a fair morning. Silver mist lay above the lands and still silence, but in the distance the mountains could be seen as distinct shadows. Black and dreadful they arose at the border of Mordor, protecting the Dark Lord from invading forces. Only small bridges led into the Dark Land, now already being controlled by Sauron's servants. Minas Tirith was the last stronghold of Men, of the free people, and yet it was not clear, whether the Orcs had already set their forces moving. The last tidings the Fellowship had gotten spoke only of small bands roaming through Gondor, frightening everyone living outside the City.

'At noon we will see,' the wizard thought while waking the others. 'At noon we will look upon the valley of Minas Tirith, the Anduin shimmering in front of our eyes. Without the Great River, hope might have left us long ago. The Orcs are strong, but still not all of Sauron's hosts were able to cross the bridges. They are small and never have they been built for great forces. A valuable man with few accompanying warriors might be able to disturb the dark hosts east of the river already. They could attack out of ambushes and kill many before leaving unseen. May Denethor still have been so wise to send out some men! Therefore great disaster might be averted!'

After another frugal breakfast, the supplies of the Rohirrim were almost spent, the Fellowship set out again. Expectance had settled on everyone, the undetermined fear they had felt on their entire journey had vanished. Now the things coming lay ahead of them, not far anymore, but almost at hand. Courage would be needed and a lot of luck also, they believed, but still each of them was eager to finally do something against the dark menace. They only thing they had accomplished so far, was to wander through the lands and guide the Ringbearer, but for ten days now there had been no real duty anymore. Their only aim had been Minas Tirith, for Frodo was currently far beyond help.

To their right side, high above the forest, the peaks of Nardol and Mindolluin rose into the sky and already the rush of the Great River was in their ears when they held their breath. Peaceful silence lay across the lands, no sign spoke of approaching war. Even birds were singing, although only a few leagues to the east the great shadow of Mordor darkened the land and by night the fires of Mount Doom could already be seen casting a red shine on the horizon. In the valley of the White Tower, however, the Black Breath had not done any harm yet, the will and power of the Men guarding the free peoples had been too strong.

For the whole morning the comrades rode on, two hours ere noon finally turning southward after days of steady traveling to the east. To their right Amon Din arose, the road they had used since having left Edoras leading around its slopes. Finally, before their way led down into the Stonewaine Valley, Gandalf halted his horse and still as a statue Shadowfax stood at the rim of the steep cleft the road was winding down.

His comrades reined their stallions down and came to a standstill next to the wizard. Each of them gasped: At the southernmost end of the valley a great city, gleaming white in the light of the midday sun, took their breath away. Built on the thrust-out knee of Mount Mindolluin there was Minas Tirith, the Guarded City, with its seven walls of stone so strong and old that it seemed to have not been erected by Men but carven by giants out of the bones of the earth. As the five were staring down in wonder, the walls looked like passing from looming gray to white. The White Tower, standing high within the topmost wall, shone out against the sky, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver, tall and fair and shapely, and its pinnacle glittered as if it were wrought of crystals. White banners broke and fluttered from the battlements in a soft breeze and thus the remainders of the Fellowship of the Ring beheld Minas Tirith, the old seat of the Kings of Men, stronghold in battles and splendid in times of peace.

A/N: Critics? Improvements? Annotations? Please tell me!