Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth
Chapter Fourteen: Preparing For The Worst While Hoping That Chocolate is the Grand Prize
by Galadriel Tolkien
I spent the 'morning' wandering the walls, chatting with the various guards and soldiers I met. Most were mildly wary of me, even those I'd talked to the day before. I found out why at lunch when one of them mentioned that he was surprised a great sorceress like myself hadn't dispelled the twilight.
"Great sorceress?" I blinked.
"There has been talk that you are one," the man shrugged, "It seems odd that you would not use the power to protect the city from twilight."
"I'm more of a swords-woman than I am a sorceress," I said calmly. "And what would you have me do once I had dispelled the twilight? Dispell the next thing the Dark Lord sends against us? Be thankful this one is merely unsettling. I suspect he would begin throwing lethality at us were I to start striving against him."
"Spoken like a true wizard."
I glanced at Gandalf, who had appeared silently, and shrugged, "'Tis merely the truth."
Baltar shrugged at the both of us, "If you'll excuse me, I should get back to my post."
We let him go, then sat, munching food in companionable silence. Too soon, Gandalf leaned over and kissed me, then left. I sighed. This was ridiculous, really. I could be trailing after him, except it just wasn't my style. At least we slept in the same bed at night.
Sieges suck.
It was nearly evening, and I was hovering around the third tier, chatting with one of the few women left in the City. Many had been evacuated down south to the coastal areas, the children gone with them. I understood the need.
Irina was rebellious, having hidden in a sewer until the boats had left, and thus escaping the road to safety. Or was that the river? Either way, she had continued living in the city, working to help make food for the troops, or keep them company--not carnally, despite what was said about her.
From the first tier, a cry went up, and I turned towards it, sensing that I was going to be needed.
A sense of dread touched me, and I realised that the Nazgul had arrived out in the Pelennor. ::Alayna!::
::On my way. With Shadowfax and G.::
I didn't wait for her, but made quick excuses to Irina and then ran down, bypassing the gates by hopping the fences and walls I'd used the day before. Alayna and Gandalf finally caught up with me as I neared the first gate. I hopped into the saddle, and we continued, dashing out into the green fields.
Ahead of us a small column of foot hastened towards the gates and safety. Above them wheeled a Nazgul on its winged steed. It stooped, occasionally, sending them crouching to the ground. Gandalf and Shadowfax pulled ahead of us, angling towards the flying thing. I let him go, concentrating on getting to the foot soldiers, my hair rustling in the wind of our passing. I neared them and began creating witchlights, tossing them into the air above, sensing that light would give them heart more than words.
I was right, for they rallied, coming towards the gate in a more ordered fashion. Some carried wounded comrades, and I hopped out of the saddle, quickly helping with the burden of one hulking man. We got him onto Alayna's back, then another, and headed towards the gates.
Gandalf dealt with the Nazgul handily, I rather thought, sensing his very thrifty and clean use of a lightning spell which sent the thing wheeling off in anger and rage.
None of us cared, moving quickly as we could towards the safety of the City.
A mounted man met Gandalf, and they waited for the rest of us. We all filed through the gates, and I sensed a horrible exhaustion from the men around me, and worried that they might not make it to their beds.
Luckily, the man in green who had met Gandalf seemed to be their focal point. And as he stayed riding, they stayed moving.
I stayed with the wounded, getting us up to the Houses of Healing as quickly as we could. Once there, I found myself drafted, and ruefully helped settle those who were wounded the worst. I didn't have the time to do more than wreath low-level healing spells, but they would all be back on their feet within the week.
We lost one of the men, the big burly one. He'd taken a sword in the gut, and the wielder had twisted it as it was removed. I could barely make heads or tails of which bits of intestine went where, though I tried, burying my hands inside of him as I tried to save him.
He died an hour afterwards, the damage too extensive for even I to fix. Without going into a deep healing trance--and I knew that wasn't an option right now. Not with things bound to get worse, and Sauron possibly winning.
Once clean, I headed back to our lodgings, weary and dispirited. I met no one along the way, and fell into the bed I'd shared with Gandalf the night before as soon as I got there.
--
Gandalf woke me when he crawled into bed, and I wordlessly wrapped my arms around him before falling back into sleep, my head nestled under his chin.
In my dreams, I saw various things, including a meeting of Gandalf, Pippin, Denethor, and the young man who had been on the horse. I learned his name was Faramir, and I realised that he was the one I had heard the soldiers discussing. A great leader, more respected than Boromir. And he didn't give me the sense of unease that Boromir had.
Denethor hated him. I felt a pang of sadness coupled with banked wrath at his treatment of the young man. There was much good he would do, if allowed reign. And much evil exuded from the Steward of Minas Tirith. I wondered at it.
They talked of many things, Gandalf questioning the lad on his recent travels in Ithilien. It was then I learned that Faramir had met with Frodo and Sam, and I felt glad to know that such had occurred.
Flitting away from the meeting, I found myself in a dank land, sand under my feet. It dribbled up between my toes, dry and cold. I shivered as the wind bit into me. Lifeless and stale, it tried to choke me.
There was blood on my hands.
Deep red blood coating my hands and arms, caught under my nails and in my cuticles. I couldn't wash it off, I couldn't get rid of it.
It wouldn't ever go, it just fed and fed and fed. And I blinked.
The land was hungry for blood. It slithered beneath my feet the sand sliding up my legs, wrapping around my torso as a lover.
I realised in horror it meant to kill me and began to fight it, desperate to free myself, to breathe.
Nothing worked and I lost my sight and the stale air in an instant as a mask of sand swallowed me whole.
--
The day dawned a mud brown, and my instincts told me it was going to be a long day with nothing to do--except recover from my dream. Of course, I could help prepare for wounded at the Houses of Healing. I might get to pick special herbs, or mix medicines. Oh, hell, I might even get to roll bandages.
Joy. I hate sieges.
Gandalf hadn't yet awakened, and I snuggled closer, wondering if he had deliberately sent me the dream of the Tower meeting. It was so nice and quiet in the still air, that I pondered going back to sleep.
Sadly, he sighed about a minute before I was fully dozing. "You let me sleep in."
"Good morning, my love." I shifted to kiss him on the nose, "I was unaware I was an alarm clock."
"You do have alarming tendencies."
"Yes." I kissed his chin and then echoed his sigh. "Time to get up and face another day of preparation, boredom, and reassurance."
His arms tightened around me for a moment, then released me. "First, you shall join the council that Denethor has called with his allies."
I slid from the bed and began strapping on my knives. "Really? Was I invited?"
"No. You shall come as my guest."
"Oooo. Strategy in the morning is almost as good as sex."
"Is it?" Pippin was peering at us, half awake.
"No." My shirt was hanging over a chair, and I picked it up and shook it out before pulling it on. I glanced at Gandalf to find him still in bed. "Up, you old wizard."
He chuckled and removed himself reluctantly from beneath the snuggly warm blankets.
Several minutes later, we dined on a quick breakfast. It was rationed, but still good. Pippin and I then followed Gandalf into the Tower where the meeting was held in the Throne room.
Lord Denethor barely acknowledged my presence. The other people there--Faramir, the Prince of Lossarnach--didn't even notice me. His first announcement was that Faramir was to take a contingent and defend the fortress at Osgiliath.
Much discussion ensued on the suitability and merits of this idea, and I heard some place called Cair Andros mentioned as not needing more men to defend. Or maybe there wasn't time to defend it. Not sure what Denethor said, exactly. Faramir himself seemed fatalistically resigned to the plan and I winced at the hatred his father showed him.
As the discussion wound down, I decided to grab my opportunity for freedom. "M'lord, I'll go to Osgiliath with Faramir."
For a moment, they all looked at me in surprise. After all, I hadn't spoken since they had begun, merely remaining a silent presence at Gandalf's side. Plus, I was a woman. And an unknown. Not sure which got to them more.
I smiled, "I'm a fair wizard and a good fighter. With me, those left to retreat from the fortress once it falls should all live. Besides, I'm bored."
Lord Denethor found his voice, and replied coldly, "You are needed here."
"Bullshit. There's nothing to do here except boost failing morale and roll bandages. ANY of your captains can do the former better than me and even children can do the latter."
"You will stay here. I have spoken." As if that decided the matter, he turned back to the Prince dismissively.
Bad move. I was bored, frustrated, and now pissed.
::Uh-oh.::
I tugged at a tiny pocket of energy and used it to shatter the discussion with a thunderclap. I smiled pleasantly at the Steward of the City. "Listen, honey, I don't even listen to his White Wizardness. You think I'm going to obey you?" I snorted, "I don't fucking think so." With that, I turned to Faramir. "I'll meet you at Osgiliath." Not caring whether he answered, I stalked from the room. ::Alayna. We're leaving.::
::Sounds fun. Know the way?::
--
Halfway down through the city, a man on a horse caught up with us. He appeared to have been tossed on the animal at great haste, not even being allowed time to pack. "Milady?"
"If you're coming to haul me back in chains, I'd suggest you just stop and tell them I tried to kill you."
"Lord Faramir sent me to lead you to Osgiliath." The man shivered, "Glad am I that you're going with us. The Captain needs all the help he can get, what with that old idiot in the Tower."
A snort of laughter escaped me, before I attempted to look dignified as I tossed the soldier a glance, "Aren't you afraid of being arrested for treason?"
He shrugged, "The Lord Denethor doesn't pay attention to such as I."
Common soldier, then. Usually the best type to find at your side during a battle. "Good, then. Tell me, what's your name?"
"I am Phred."
"Well, Phred, I hope you don't mind riding hard. I want to reach the fortress before nightfall, if possible."
He nodded in surprise, "That it is, if you are willing to sacrifice meal stops."
"Not a problem."
We rode in almost companionable silence until reaching the gate in the Pelennor. The guards there glanced at me in askance, but since we both knew the passwords, there was no pausing in our journey.
The fields of the Pelennor behind us, Gondor became a wilder country, scrub-brush and grass dotted with small trees. I thought of the Ents, then, and wondered if what Pippin and Merry had said about the Ent-wives was true. It was sad to think of those proud creatures left without a means to perpetuate their species. Time would pass, and they would die out, leaving Middle Earth less something magical.
It occurred to me that I might be able to find the fabled Ent-wives. It would be something clean to do. No blood would have to be spilt, no one would die. I liked that plan.
As evening drew towards us, I spotted what had to be Osgiliath. It lay upon the silver winding of the river like a small black armband. As if some great thing were mourning.
Sometime later, the river was in front of us, broad and swift as it moved between its two banks. Osgiliath lay spread around it, a hulking circle of dwindling ruins that might once have been a vast fortress of strength. Even now, with the ramparts crumbling, the structure was incredible to behold. The stones were ancient, whispering to each other of years long past. Battles had been fought here, some won, some lost. Pain and death hovered in the air, as if the coming battle called it from memory.
There was an odd sense of peace, though. As if the very nature of war caused the stones to rebel against it. A sort of stasis held crumbling mortar and brickwork together, the bright white stone greying gently.
It was built by the same architects who had constructed the White City, and I recognised elements in the walls there in its framing.
Two halves of a hole lay across the river, spanning it with a stout bridge that could allow the passage of hundreds of troops in minutes. Looking at the bridge, I knew we'd have to destroy it, and hoped there was a way that didn't require magic.
On the other side of the river, the stones were pitted with destruction and use, and I guessed it had been this side that was much used by foe and friend alike.
As we rode through the west side of the fortress, I could feel the rocks around me, chattering. The ages had passed them by leaving countless memories in them, just waiting to be touched and remembered.
We crossed the bridge, and I looked down into the river, fascinated by the depths concealed there.
Deep scorings dotted this side of Osgiliath. The fortress had been broken before, but there were still parts together. It was towards these that we rode. The men garrisoned gave us surprised looks as we arrived.
"We're here to prepare for the arrival of Captain Faramir." I said calmly. "I'm Marya Luthien, I plan on keeping this pile of rock together for a while."
Phred gave a sort of muffled snicker, and then answered the captain's look. "Lord Faramir will be here shortly."
I dismounted and wandered off while they discussed provisioning. The eastern side of Osgiliath would not survive a concerted assault--the bottleneck of the bridge would see us lost and cut off on this side if we tarried too long. So it would be best to study the place and set traps for our enemies. With this in mind, I spent the next four hours wandering in and out of the ruined bits and repaired bits, and the in-between bits. I sketched rough gridlines of magic, leaving them open for anything I might want to attach to them. If the place was overrun, I could even loose a conflagration spell, sending the place up in molten flame.
The idea had appeal.
Once I was finished, I headed back towards the populated portions, sensing that Faramir had arrived along with those troops he'd been granted. It angered me that Denethor could not see the good this son had done and would do.
Unlike Boromir, I sensed no pride or avarice from him. No sense that he would take the ring if ever presented it. Instead, I sensed a calm competence and true feeling of protection for his fellow man.
He was speaking with his captains and sergeants when I arrived. Considering I was slightly dusty and sooty, my arrival could have caused a ripple of surprise, or interrupted his instructions. It did neither. I was impressed.
I waited until he was finished and had dismissed them to various tasks before approaching him. "Busy night."
"Scouts report movement in Ithilien." He sighed, "I fear we shall be overrun ere morning finds us."
"Doubt it." I pondered our options. "Look, are there maps of Ithilien?"
"Yes."
"Lemme at 'em, then."
"I am unclear as to your purpose."
"Well, see, if I can get a feel for the lay of the land, Alayna and I can wander off and harry Mordor's forces."
"Too dangerous."
I looked at him, and snorted, "Your father's opinion of me was almost that low. I survived Helm's Deep, a Balrog, and the journey from Rivendell. This is merely a momentary piece of cake. Besides, it's nothing more than the sort of thing we did while--" I paused, sensing something in the air. A faint crackle, like magic, skittered along my mind.
"Marya?"
"Ssh." I held up a hand and closed my eyes, focusing on that elusive trail, fishing it out of the background noise around us. There. An orange-red sliver of magic, less a spell, and more... familiar. As if I'd touched or sensed this before. It didn't come from Mordor, either. I turned slowly to face west, and stared back towards Minas Tirith as if I could see through the wall in front of my nose.
"Marya." Faramir touched my shoulder, "What is it?"
"I don't know. Nothing." I shook my head and turned to him, half-smiling. "So. Those maps of Ithilien?"
--
Chapter Fourteen: Preparing For The Worst While Hoping That Chocolate is the Grand Prize
by Galadriel Tolkien
I spent the 'morning' wandering the walls, chatting with the various guards and soldiers I met. Most were mildly wary of me, even those I'd talked to the day before. I found out why at lunch when one of them mentioned that he was surprised a great sorceress like myself hadn't dispelled the twilight.
"Great sorceress?" I blinked.
"There has been talk that you are one," the man shrugged, "It seems odd that you would not use the power to protect the city from twilight."
"I'm more of a swords-woman than I am a sorceress," I said calmly. "And what would you have me do once I had dispelled the twilight? Dispell the next thing the Dark Lord sends against us? Be thankful this one is merely unsettling. I suspect he would begin throwing lethality at us were I to start striving against him."
"Spoken like a true wizard."
I glanced at Gandalf, who had appeared silently, and shrugged, "'Tis merely the truth."
Baltar shrugged at the both of us, "If you'll excuse me, I should get back to my post."
We let him go, then sat, munching food in companionable silence. Too soon, Gandalf leaned over and kissed me, then left. I sighed. This was ridiculous, really. I could be trailing after him, except it just wasn't my style. At least we slept in the same bed at night.
Sieges suck.
It was nearly evening, and I was hovering around the third tier, chatting with one of the few women left in the City. Many had been evacuated down south to the coastal areas, the children gone with them. I understood the need.
Irina was rebellious, having hidden in a sewer until the boats had left, and thus escaping the road to safety. Or was that the river? Either way, she had continued living in the city, working to help make food for the troops, or keep them company--not carnally, despite what was said about her.
From the first tier, a cry went up, and I turned towards it, sensing that I was going to be needed.
A sense of dread touched me, and I realised that the Nazgul had arrived out in the Pelennor. ::Alayna!::
::On my way. With Shadowfax and G.::
I didn't wait for her, but made quick excuses to Irina and then ran down, bypassing the gates by hopping the fences and walls I'd used the day before. Alayna and Gandalf finally caught up with me as I neared the first gate. I hopped into the saddle, and we continued, dashing out into the green fields.
Ahead of us a small column of foot hastened towards the gates and safety. Above them wheeled a Nazgul on its winged steed. It stooped, occasionally, sending them crouching to the ground. Gandalf and Shadowfax pulled ahead of us, angling towards the flying thing. I let him go, concentrating on getting to the foot soldiers, my hair rustling in the wind of our passing. I neared them and began creating witchlights, tossing them into the air above, sensing that light would give them heart more than words.
I was right, for they rallied, coming towards the gate in a more ordered fashion. Some carried wounded comrades, and I hopped out of the saddle, quickly helping with the burden of one hulking man. We got him onto Alayna's back, then another, and headed towards the gates.
Gandalf dealt with the Nazgul handily, I rather thought, sensing his very thrifty and clean use of a lightning spell which sent the thing wheeling off in anger and rage.
None of us cared, moving quickly as we could towards the safety of the City.
A mounted man met Gandalf, and they waited for the rest of us. We all filed through the gates, and I sensed a horrible exhaustion from the men around me, and worried that they might not make it to their beds.
Luckily, the man in green who had met Gandalf seemed to be their focal point. And as he stayed riding, they stayed moving.
I stayed with the wounded, getting us up to the Houses of Healing as quickly as we could. Once there, I found myself drafted, and ruefully helped settle those who were wounded the worst. I didn't have the time to do more than wreath low-level healing spells, but they would all be back on their feet within the week.
We lost one of the men, the big burly one. He'd taken a sword in the gut, and the wielder had twisted it as it was removed. I could barely make heads or tails of which bits of intestine went where, though I tried, burying my hands inside of him as I tried to save him.
He died an hour afterwards, the damage too extensive for even I to fix. Without going into a deep healing trance--and I knew that wasn't an option right now. Not with things bound to get worse, and Sauron possibly winning.
Once clean, I headed back to our lodgings, weary and dispirited. I met no one along the way, and fell into the bed I'd shared with Gandalf the night before as soon as I got there.
--
Gandalf woke me when he crawled into bed, and I wordlessly wrapped my arms around him before falling back into sleep, my head nestled under his chin.
In my dreams, I saw various things, including a meeting of Gandalf, Pippin, Denethor, and the young man who had been on the horse. I learned his name was Faramir, and I realised that he was the one I had heard the soldiers discussing. A great leader, more respected than Boromir. And he didn't give me the sense of unease that Boromir had.
Denethor hated him. I felt a pang of sadness coupled with banked wrath at his treatment of the young man. There was much good he would do, if allowed reign. And much evil exuded from the Steward of Minas Tirith. I wondered at it.
They talked of many things, Gandalf questioning the lad on his recent travels in Ithilien. It was then I learned that Faramir had met with Frodo and Sam, and I felt glad to know that such had occurred.
Flitting away from the meeting, I found myself in a dank land, sand under my feet. It dribbled up between my toes, dry and cold. I shivered as the wind bit into me. Lifeless and stale, it tried to choke me.
There was blood on my hands.
Deep red blood coating my hands and arms, caught under my nails and in my cuticles. I couldn't wash it off, I couldn't get rid of it.
It wouldn't ever go, it just fed and fed and fed. And I blinked.
The land was hungry for blood. It slithered beneath my feet the sand sliding up my legs, wrapping around my torso as a lover.
I realised in horror it meant to kill me and began to fight it, desperate to free myself, to breathe.
Nothing worked and I lost my sight and the stale air in an instant as a mask of sand swallowed me whole.
--
The day dawned a mud brown, and my instincts told me it was going to be a long day with nothing to do--except recover from my dream. Of course, I could help prepare for wounded at the Houses of Healing. I might get to pick special herbs, or mix medicines. Oh, hell, I might even get to roll bandages.
Joy. I hate sieges.
Gandalf hadn't yet awakened, and I snuggled closer, wondering if he had deliberately sent me the dream of the Tower meeting. It was so nice and quiet in the still air, that I pondered going back to sleep.
Sadly, he sighed about a minute before I was fully dozing. "You let me sleep in."
"Good morning, my love." I shifted to kiss him on the nose, "I was unaware I was an alarm clock."
"You do have alarming tendencies."
"Yes." I kissed his chin and then echoed his sigh. "Time to get up and face another day of preparation, boredom, and reassurance."
His arms tightened around me for a moment, then released me. "First, you shall join the council that Denethor has called with his allies."
I slid from the bed and began strapping on my knives. "Really? Was I invited?"
"No. You shall come as my guest."
"Oooo. Strategy in the morning is almost as good as sex."
"Is it?" Pippin was peering at us, half awake.
"No." My shirt was hanging over a chair, and I picked it up and shook it out before pulling it on. I glanced at Gandalf to find him still in bed. "Up, you old wizard."
He chuckled and removed himself reluctantly from beneath the snuggly warm blankets.
Several minutes later, we dined on a quick breakfast. It was rationed, but still good. Pippin and I then followed Gandalf into the Tower where the meeting was held in the Throne room.
Lord Denethor barely acknowledged my presence. The other people there--Faramir, the Prince of Lossarnach--didn't even notice me. His first announcement was that Faramir was to take a contingent and defend the fortress at Osgiliath.
Much discussion ensued on the suitability and merits of this idea, and I heard some place called Cair Andros mentioned as not needing more men to defend. Or maybe there wasn't time to defend it. Not sure what Denethor said, exactly. Faramir himself seemed fatalistically resigned to the plan and I winced at the hatred his father showed him.
As the discussion wound down, I decided to grab my opportunity for freedom. "M'lord, I'll go to Osgiliath with Faramir."
For a moment, they all looked at me in surprise. After all, I hadn't spoken since they had begun, merely remaining a silent presence at Gandalf's side. Plus, I was a woman. And an unknown. Not sure which got to them more.
I smiled, "I'm a fair wizard and a good fighter. With me, those left to retreat from the fortress once it falls should all live. Besides, I'm bored."
Lord Denethor found his voice, and replied coldly, "You are needed here."
"Bullshit. There's nothing to do here except boost failing morale and roll bandages. ANY of your captains can do the former better than me and even children can do the latter."
"You will stay here. I have spoken." As if that decided the matter, he turned back to the Prince dismissively.
Bad move. I was bored, frustrated, and now pissed.
::Uh-oh.::
I tugged at a tiny pocket of energy and used it to shatter the discussion with a thunderclap. I smiled pleasantly at the Steward of the City. "Listen, honey, I don't even listen to his White Wizardness. You think I'm going to obey you?" I snorted, "I don't fucking think so." With that, I turned to Faramir. "I'll meet you at Osgiliath." Not caring whether he answered, I stalked from the room. ::Alayna. We're leaving.::
::Sounds fun. Know the way?::
--
Halfway down through the city, a man on a horse caught up with us. He appeared to have been tossed on the animal at great haste, not even being allowed time to pack. "Milady?"
"If you're coming to haul me back in chains, I'd suggest you just stop and tell them I tried to kill you."
"Lord Faramir sent me to lead you to Osgiliath." The man shivered, "Glad am I that you're going with us. The Captain needs all the help he can get, what with that old idiot in the Tower."
A snort of laughter escaped me, before I attempted to look dignified as I tossed the soldier a glance, "Aren't you afraid of being arrested for treason?"
He shrugged, "The Lord Denethor doesn't pay attention to such as I."
Common soldier, then. Usually the best type to find at your side during a battle. "Good, then. Tell me, what's your name?"
"I am Phred."
"Well, Phred, I hope you don't mind riding hard. I want to reach the fortress before nightfall, if possible."
He nodded in surprise, "That it is, if you are willing to sacrifice meal stops."
"Not a problem."
We rode in almost companionable silence until reaching the gate in the Pelennor. The guards there glanced at me in askance, but since we both knew the passwords, there was no pausing in our journey.
The fields of the Pelennor behind us, Gondor became a wilder country, scrub-brush and grass dotted with small trees. I thought of the Ents, then, and wondered if what Pippin and Merry had said about the Ent-wives was true. It was sad to think of those proud creatures left without a means to perpetuate their species. Time would pass, and they would die out, leaving Middle Earth less something magical.
It occurred to me that I might be able to find the fabled Ent-wives. It would be something clean to do. No blood would have to be spilt, no one would die. I liked that plan.
As evening drew towards us, I spotted what had to be Osgiliath. It lay upon the silver winding of the river like a small black armband. As if some great thing were mourning.
Sometime later, the river was in front of us, broad and swift as it moved between its two banks. Osgiliath lay spread around it, a hulking circle of dwindling ruins that might once have been a vast fortress of strength. Even now, with the ramparts crumbling, the structure was incredible to behold. The stones were ancient, whispering to each other of years long past. Battles had been fought here, some won, some lost. Pain and death hovered in the air, as if the coming battle called it from memory.
There was an odd sense of peace, though. As if the very nature of war caused the stones to rebel against it. A sort of stasis held crumbling mortar and brickwork together, the bright white stone greying gently.
It was built by the same architects who had constructed the White City, and I recognised elements in the walls there in its framing.
Two halves of a hole lay across the river, spanning it with a stout bridge that could allow the passage of hundreds of troops in minutes. Looking at the bridge, I knew we'd have to destroy it, and hoped there was a way that didn't require magic.
On the other side of the river, the stones were pitted with destruction and use, and I guessed it had been this side that was much used by foe and friend alike.
As we rode through the west side of the fortress, I could feel the rocks around me, chattering. The ages had passed them by leaving countless memories in them, just waiting to be touched and remembered.
We crossed the bridge, and I looked down into the river, fascinated by the depths concealed there.
Deep scorings dotted this side of Osgiliath. The fortress had been broken before, but there were still parts together. It was towards these that we rode. The men garrisoned gave us surprised looks as we arrived.
"We're here to prepare for the arrival of Captain Faramir." I said calmly. "I'm Marya Luthien, I plan on keeping this pile of rock together for a while."
Phred gave a sort of muffled snicker, and then answered the captain's look. "Lord Faramir will be here shortly."
I dismounted and wandered off while they discussed provisioning. The eastern side of Osgiliath would not survive a concerted assault--the bottleneck of the bridge would see us lost and cut off on this side if we tarried too long. So it would be best to study the place and set traps for our enemies. With this in mind, I spent the next four hours wandering in and out of the ruined bits and repaired bits, and the in-between bits. I sketched rough gridlines of magic, leaving them open for anything I might want to attach to them. If the place was overrun, I could even loose a conflagration spell, sending the place up in molten flame.
The idea had appeal.
Once I was finished, I headed back towards the populated portions, sensing that Faramir had arrived along with those troops he'd been granted. It angered me that Denethor could not see the good this son had done and would do.
Unlike Boromir, I sensed no pride or avarice from him. No sense that he would take the ring if ever presented it. Instead, I sensed a calm competence and true feeling of protection for his fellow man.
He was speaking with his captains and sergeants when I arrived. Considering I was slightly dusty and sooty, my arrival could have caused a ripple of surprise, or interrupted his instructions. It did neither. I was impressed.
I waited until he was finished and had dismissed them to various tasks before approaching him. "Busy night."
"Scouts report movement in Ithilien." He sighed, "I fear we shall be overrun ere morning finds us."
"Doubt it." I pondered our options. "Look, are there maps of Ithilien?"
"Yes."
"Lemme at 'em, then."
"I am unclear as to your purpose."
"Well, see, if I can get a feel for the lay of the land, Alayna and I can wander off and harry Mordor's forces."
"Too dangerous."
I looked at him, and snorted, "Your father's opinion of me was almost that low. I survived Helm's Deep, a Balrog, and the journey from Rivendell. This is merely a momentary piece of cake. Besides, it's nothing more than the sort of thing we did while--" I paused, sensing something in the air. A faint crackle, like magic, skittered along my mind.
"Marya?"
"Ssh." I held up a hand and closed my eyes, focusing on that elusive trail, fishing it out of the background noise around us. There. An orange-red sliver of magic, less a spell, and more... familiar. As if I'd touched or sensed this before. It didn't come from Mordor, either. I turned slowly to face west, and stared back towards Minas Tirith as if I could see through the wall in front of my nose.
"Marya." Faramir touched my shoulder, "What is it?"
"I don't know. Nothing." I shook my head and turned to him, half-smiling. "So. Those maps of Ithilien?"
--