Author's Notes: My most profound apologies to my dear readers.  This chapter has been a long time coming these past four months.  I rarely had time to work on it, due to my hellish schedule this semester.  With all of the research projects I've been doing (five assigned in one week), my creativity had to take a back seat to boring logic.  Thankfully, I had a short break from all of my work and had an opportunity to do some REAL writing.  I needed that time too, since this chapter has the first real action scenes I've ever written.  I'm not joking when I say that writing action is HARD!  I have a lot more respect for authors like Cassia and Thundera Tiger, who write such incredible action sequences, now that I've tried my hand at it.  And, as an extra apology, this chapter is nice and long. 

Chapter 4

Aragorn seated himself on a couch next to Faramir and sighed.  "Now I am convinced that darkness has once more come to Isengard."

"My lord?" Faramir questioned Aragorn with a look of confusion. "How do you know of this?  Only Legolas had a vision of Isengard."

"No, Faramir," Aragorn sighed again. "He is not the only one to see the caverns of Isengard relit and Orthanc a haven for evil once more.  I have had a similar vision; and like all of yours, this vision came to me two nights ago."

All heads snapped up to look at the King of Gondor.  The lines of weariness that stretched across his face were now clearly evident as he remembered the terrifying vision.  Aragorn glanced up and met with Legolas' eyes.  A silent question was in them and Aragorn needed no words to understand that the Elf was asking him to speak of what he had seen. 

The king swallowed hard and allowed the horrifying details of his vision to come back. "I found myself alone in a dark tunnel.  Some mysterious force guided me out and I found myself in the caverns of Isengard.  They were dark and silent as they have been these past four years.  I moved to touch a rusted manacle along the wall and the caverns suddenly came to life.  There were flames everywhere and the bodies of tortured men were crammed along every wall.  At first, I had thought them to be nameless slaves, but closer inspection proved me wrong.  I knew many of these men.  They were soldiers of Gondor and Rohan, all of whom died at some point during the War of the Ring.  King Theoden was among them, as well as my old friend Halbarad.  I tried to escape the caverns, but the fires sprang up and trapped me.  I thought I was going to be burned alive when everything suddenly stopped.  I heard a voice warning me of the future and I yelled for whoever was speaking to show himself." 

Aragorn paused and looked at Faramir with the utmost seriousness. "It was Boromir, or at least his spirit, for his body was translucent and faded quickly."

"Then there must be a connection," Gimli spoke before anyone else could. "Boromir's warnings must pertain to some evil in those accursed pits."

"Did you have any visions, son of Glóin?" Aragorn asked, hoping that the Dwarf might be able to provide more details.

Gimli shook his head. "Nay, I did not.  If I had, all of you would have known by now.  Unlike some races, we Dwarves do not have need for hiding vital information."

Legolas' shoulders shook slightly at the jest, breaking the tense mood a bit. "I am sure that we will never have to worry about Gimli ever withholding any knowledge of visions or prophetic dreams.  In all my life, I have never once heard of a Dwarf receiving a dream of significant value, unless it be the whereabouts of a new spot to create yet another hole in the ground."

Gimli gave a small grunt of indignation. "And here I thought to keep you company on your journey and provide support as you tried to decipher that dream of yours.  If I am to be insulted for my labors, then you can simply do these things on your own from now on.  Faramir, let us all hope that your first child will never be as rude and stubborn as this Elf."

The Prince of Ithilien chuckled. "No indeed, master Dwarf.  A child like our dear Legolas would be quite a challenge to raise.  Then again, it would be even worse if he or she was as bull headed as you.  I must make sure to keep my first child well away from both of you until he or she reaches a less impressionable age, lest your more lacking qualities rub off."

"Och!  You would deny us the pleasure of seeing the wee thing?" Gimli chortled. "Though, I suppose that would be all right if you at least give it a good name.  Kór or Grîm would be strong names for a young boy and a girl might be called Varin or Nalin."

"Only a Dwarf would dare to call any offspring such uncouth names," Legolas replied with a barely visible smile. "An elven name would be much more appropriate for the heir of Prince Faramir of Ithilien and Éowyn the White Lady of Rohan; one that exemplifies the beauty of the land it is born in and the joy of all life."

Aragorn chuckled, "I am sure the hobbits would love to name your first child as well, Faramir."

"Gimli II would be a good name as well," Gimli muttered under his breath.

That was all it took to shatter the serious atmosphere in the library.  Faramir fell back against the couch, laughing hysterically.  Next to him, Aragorn was unsuccessfully trying to hold back his own laughter.  For a few seconds, all memories of visions and dreams were forgotten as everyone allowed their mirth to surface.      

Faramir wiped away the tears that were forming in his eyes and had to take a deep breath before being able to speak. "Had it occurred to none of you that perhaps Éowyn and I would like to be the ones to name our child?"

"With friends such as these?  Faramir, there is no chance that they will ever allow you and Éowyn to take on such a responsibility," Aragorn snickered.   

Faramir chuckled. "I can not wait until your beautiful queen is heavy with your own child, my liege.  Then you will get to experience the full force of busy-bodies such as these two rouges. "

"And not only rouges like us, Aragorn," Legolas smiled. "You will have to deal with rouges far worse than the Dwarf and I; namely, your brothers.  I can just imagine Elladan and Elrohir showing up the minute they receive word of Arwen's pregnancy.  In the months that follow, they will haunt your every step, always watching to see if you do anything that makes their younger sister the slightest bit uncomfortable.  And if you so much as cause your wife frown, they will pounce on you like wolves on a rabbit."

"Or perhaps they will pounce on you like Rohirrim on a horse thief," Faramir interjected.

"Or like hobbits on the last available mushroom," Gimli roared with laughter.

"I am fully aware of that, my friends," Aragorn interrupted their joke. "And so I will have taken precautions to ensure both the safety of my wife and my sanity whenever that time may come.  By the time I remember to send word of a future niece or nephew to the twin Lords of Rivendell, they will not be able to arrive until well after the child is born."

"If only Éowyn and I had thought of that earlier," Faramir shook his head.

Gimli's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. "Even if you had, rouges like Legolas and myself would still have found out and bothered you to death anyway.  Our methods of finding out would simply have been more cunning and deceitful."

The four of them laughed together and the final traces of worry and concern were scattered to the winds.  Faramir felt the burden of his vision lift for the first time and relished the chance to breathe easy again, even if it was only for a brief moment.  The Prince of Ithilien was about to tease Aragorn a bit more when the library doors were suddenly thrown open.  All mirth left as four heads turned to regard the lone, breathless, guard that stood in the entrance way.

"My liege," The guard gasped for breath. "I bear ill news from the lookout towers.  Uruk-hai have been spotted marching here from the northwest.  The guards could not tell how many, for they were too far away, but it appears to be a sizable force."

Aragorn stood and fixed the guard with a hard stare. "To my knowledge, the last of Saruman's Uruk-hai were destroyed shortly after the war.  Are you sure they are not simply orcs?"

"Mere orcs would not venture forth in the middle of the day," Legolas stated as he gazed upon the bright afternoon sun through one of the library's enormous windows. "Even if their numbers are great, they know it is folly to attack the White City so directly."

The guard began to squirm slightly under his king's gaze. "Sire, many at the lookouts have fought against the armies of both Saruman and the Dark One.  They are willing to bet their lives that these are Uruk-hai."

The king turned away from the guard and stared thoughtfully out the window. He remained silent for a moment, pondering the current situation.  After a moment, he spoke up. "How far?"

"Less than two leagues away, my lord.  They will be here in two, perhaps three, hours.  They do not appear to be in a great hurry to get here."

Gimli and Legolas immediately turned to each other and silent messages seemed to pass to pass between them.  Nodding in silent agreement, they turned to Faramir.  The steward could see the question that burned in their eyes and nodded once to the Elf and Dwarf before turning to Aragorn.

"So be it. We shall all fight," Aragorn gave a quick nod of thanks to his friends before turning back to the still panting guard. "Rally the soldiers to the outer wall.  I want every archer we can spare to be atop the ramparts within the hour.  Not even one of those abominations is to set foot inside this city.  Dismissed."

The guard bowed quickly and ran off to carry out the king's orders.  Once he was gone, Aragorn turned back to his friends. "Let us head to the armory, for I see that none of you came here fully prepared for a battle."

They turned and strode out of the library, making it a point to ignore Gimli's grumbled protests about how dwarves are always ready to do battle at a moments notice.  As they walked, Aragorn turned to Faramir with a half smile on his face.

"To think I was reluctant at first to reclaim the throne because I feared being bored to tears the rest of my life."

Faramir chuckled. "Elessar, my friend, how wrong you were."

*          *          *

Within the hour, all available soldiers and archers were lined up along the outer wall that encased the city of Minas Tirith.  Aragorn, Faramir, Legolas, and Gimli stood among them, clad in mail and ready for battle.  Faramir and Legolas had brought several quivers each up from the armory and were currently rubbing their bow strings with a block of beeswax.  Gimli switched his multiple axes between his hands, testing their balance, though he knew they were perfect.  Aragorn, meanwhile, stood still as if he were one of the rocks that they stood upon.  His hand rested lightly upon the hilt of Andúril while his eyes were riveted to the shapeless mass of black heading straight toward the city.  Legolas and the lookouts had been right.  No orc would dare attack such a heavily fortified city in the middle of the day and no common orc stood as tall as the creatures before them.  So it was true; the Uruk-hai had not been completely destroyed after the war.  Raising a hand above his head, the King of Gondor and Arnor signaled for his archers to notch their bows.  In the distance, an orc horn sounded and the Uruk-hai charged forward just as Aragorn swept his hand down and hundreds of arrows were released.

The next few minutes were a blur of colors, shapes, and sounds to all defending the walls.  The sun glinted off polished armor as bows were drawn and released, sending hails of arrows toward the enemy.  The Uruk-hai appeared to be one dark shapeless mass as the minions of darkness crowded together against the walls in their assault.  The bodies were so pressed together that aim was hardly needed by the soldiers.  A blind man could shoot an arrow into the mass of enemies and still be guaranteed a hit. 

The shrieks of death from the Uruk-hai were almost completely drowned out by the battle cries of the others.  Fallen bodies were carelessly trampled as ladders were brought forth to scale the white walls.  However, Aragorn was ready for such a maneuver.  Shouting over the twanging of bowstrings, he ordered the remaining soldiers to attack the ladders.  The few enemies that actually made it up the ladders without being shot were quickly cut down and their ladders thrown back before any could set foot inside the city.  The men upon the wall cheered as each attempt by the Uruk-hai was easily thwarted. 

However there were some among the soldiers that did not cheer.  Throughout the entire battle, Faramir had grown increasingly edgy.  Something was not right about this battle.  While the Uruk-hai attacked in great numbers, their strategies were pathetic.  There were no long range weapons possessed by the enemies, such as bows, crossbows, or catapults.  The orcs were simply swarming at the wall with a few ladders like ants.  Another factor that unnerved him was the fact that there were very few shields among the enemy.  Surely the Uruk-hai must have anticipated being attacked by volleys of arrows during the assault, yet they carried virtually no defense against long range weapons.  From what Mithrandir told him years ago, the Uruk-hai were bred to be far more intelligent and cunning than a normal orc.  Yet these showed little signs of logical intelligence.  Faramir frowned deeply as another Uruk-hai was felled by his arrows.  This was too easy.  Glancing to his right, the steward could see Legolas with a frown etched upon his face.  Clearly the Elf was thinking to same thing.

When the last arrow in his quiver was released, Faramir ducked down behind the wall to restock.  From where he crouched, Faramir could see movement further down the wall out of the corner of his eye.  He spared a glance in that direction.  He and Legolas had situated themselves close to the edge of the defenses.  No soldiers had situated themselves so far down the wall and he had not seen or sensed anyone move past him in that direction.  Yet he saw a group of ten men bearing the White Tree upon their armor climbing down from the wall well away from the skirmish.  One of the men glanced back at the defenses, as if checking to make sure no one was looking.  Faramir caught a glance of his face, though he could not make out any details from such a distance, and a wave of cold fear swept through him. 

Faramir clutched his chest with one hand as his heart constricted painfully.  Something about that man was not right.  The steward could feel his entire body tremble, though whether it was from fear or cold, he could not tell.  He closed his eyes and could feel his highly attuned senses screaming like they had not done since the Nazgûl swept down upon him during the War of the Ring.  After a moment, his mind quieted and he could feel his muscles begin to relax.  Opening his eyes, Faramir noticed that all of the men he spotted had vanished from sight.  Breathing a sigh of relief, Faramir grabbed a spare quiver and prepared to rejoin the defenses.  His body paused and a blast of icy cold grabbed his heart as Legolas' words from their journey suddenly reverberated within his mind.

"In some of my dreams, I see the White City being attacked by an army cloaked in shadow.  It is strange, though.  The attack does little to damage the Tower of Ecthelion.  The building that seems to take the most damage is the House of Stewards."

It was as if a dam had been released within his thoughts as answers suddenly flooded his mind.  Legolas' vision of an attack, Boromir's warning; it was all connected and made perfect sense.  Unsheathing his sword, Faramir dashed away from the fray to the stairs that led back into the city.  He could vaguely hear Legolas call out to him as he raced in the direction of the fourth level.  A flash of gold beside him caught his eye and Faramir turned to see Legolas running alongside him.  Behind them, he could hear the heavy footsteps of a Dwarf trying to catch up.

"Faramir, what is happening?" The Elf said as they ran.

Faramir kept his eyes ahead as he led the way through the streets. "It all makes sense now, Legolas.  Your dreams, my dreams, they both connect.  I finally understand what Boromir was trying to tell me.  They must not find what was left behind."

If Legolas was confused by the steward's words, he did not show it.  His face remained a mask of neutrality as he silently followed Faramir's lead.

"Where do the two of you think you are going?" Gimli demanded from behind them. "There is still a battle to be won atop the ramparts!"

Faramir spared a glance behind him as he answered. "I fear that the true battle is not atop the ramparts and we may already be too late to win it, Gimli.  We must make haste to the House of Stewards!"

*          *          *

The journey to the Silent Street on the fourth level passed quickly.  All citizens had been ordered to remain in their homes until word came of the battle's end, so the three warriors had nothing to hamper their flight to the House of Stewards.  Faramir paid little attention to the deserted streets around them, his mind focused only on fulfilling his promise to Boromir's spirit.  Beside him, Legolas said nothing.  The Elf prince had checked his speed so that he did not run ahead of Faramir.  The steward seemed to understand the situation much better than he did, so he was content to follow the Man's lead.  Several meters behind them, Gimli puffed along, calling on the stamina he had gained while tracking Merry and Pippin across northern Rohan.  The Dwarf kept all snide remarks about the unnatural swiftness of Men and Elves to himself, knowing that they would not be welcome in such a grave situation.  He honestly had no idea where those two were heading, but had learned long ago to trust Faramir's intuition and Legolas' keen senses. 

Their footsteps echoed around them, the only sound present on the Silent Street, though Faramir did not check his pace out of respect for the dead as he usually did.  Fear clung to his heart at the thought of what he might find, or more likely what he would not find, if they did not reach the resting halls of the line of stewards.  The solemn house of stone appeared before them and the three companions suddenly halted.  Standing before the open doors to the House of Stewards were nine Men bearing the White Tree upon their breasts. 

Faramir was about to demand an explanation when several of the men turned to look him directly in the eye.  Ice seemed to course through his veins, freezing him from the inside out.  The sheer magnitude of evil that radiated from these Men was enough to almost make the Prince of Ithilien pass out.  He saw Legolas out of the corner of his eye.  The Elf's eyes widened and his face was growing paler.  Faramir could feel the darkness surround him and numb his body as he stared into their eyes…

…Their blood red eyes.

The suffocating darkness surrounding the Men did not seem to faze Gimli as the Dwarf suddenly leapt upon them with a roaring battle cry.  All nine Men scattered, trying to dodge the axe that swung in every direction.  The loss of eye contact shattered the ice running through Faramir's blood and the steward quickly raised his sword and joined in the battle.  Legolas too seemed to have recovered from his shock as he too took up his knives. 

Metal crashed upon metal as Faramir and his friends battled three to one.  Their enemies were definitely well trained with their weapons, for no hits could be gained on either side.  Faramir could still feel the evil radiating from the Men and it chilled his skin beneath his armor, but each stroke of his sword sent shocks of heat through his limbs.  As they battled on, Faramir noticed that he was being pushed away from Legolas and Gimli.  Try as he might, he could not seem to push back his opponents.  He parried, dodged, and jabbed, hoping to find an opening in their defenses, but their swords were like lightning that struck against his every advance.  Over the sounds of the melee, Faramir heard Legolas cry out as the Elf dodged past his attackers.  Beyond his opponents, the steward suddenly noticed what Legolas had. 

A tenth Man had run out of the House of Stewards with a loaded sack slung over his shoulder. 

Faramir tried to get past his opponents to stop the fleeing Man, but found no escape.  He battled on desperately.  He could not let that Man escape.  He had promised to Boromir that they would not find what was left behind.  The Steward of Gondor was so focused on trying to escape that he never noticed the soldier that came up from behind and he was helpless to do anything as a sword hilt smashed against the back of his head.

*          *          *

Meanwhile, Legolas was racing west down the Silent Street after the fleeing Man.  Although he regretted leaving Gimli and Faramir behind with the other nine Men, he was confident in their skills as warriors.  He was sure that they could last while he brought down this rouge who sought to desecrate the sacred resting place of the stewards.  His elven speed and reflexes had easily allowed him to outdistance other Men before and it Legolas knew that this villain could not stay ahead of him for very long, even with a head start.  And yet it occurred to the Elf that he had gained little distance between the two of them since the beginning of the chase.  Even with his elven speed, the Man was still moving as fast, or faster, as him.  Legolas frowned.  No Man could ever outrun an Elf for so long. 

Up ahead, Legolas spotted a curve in the street and smiled.  He remembered this curve well from previous visits.  The street was designed so that it wound north around a several buildings before heading due west again.  A normal person would simply follow the street around, and this rouge was no exception as he turned the corner.  Allowing himself a brief smirk at his own cleverness, Legolas ignored the curve and ran straight ahead.  With a powerful jump, conditioned by several millennia of leaping through the beeches of Mirkwood, the Elf prince landed on the low roof of a shop and ran straight ahead.  As he neared the edge of the roof, he could see his target finishing his run around the corner. 

The Man barely had the chance to look up before Legolas pulled him to the ground with a mighty flying tackle. 

When he felt no movement beneath him, Legolas loosened his grip on the felled enemy.  Blood pouring from a gash on the Man's temple and the bruises around his face clearly showed that he was unconscious.  Legolas breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that he had been able to stop the villain from stealing whatever was in his sack.  The Elf grabbed the sack which had fallen a short ways away, curious as to what exactly this Man's quarry was. 

When he saw what was inside, Legolas' face fell.  Turning his face to the heavens he shouted a curse to the Valar.

*          *          *      

Aragorn frowned as he watched the ongoing battle from the ramparts.  Something was not right about this attack.  The army of Uruk-hai was not very large, perhaps three hundred or so, but not large enough to take Minas Tirith by force.  The soldiers of Gondor were shooting the foul creatures down with relative ease.  Those few that had managed to scale the walls without being felled by arrows were swiftly cut down by swords.  What worried Aragorn was the fact that none of the Uruk-hai carried a projectile weapon.  The king could spot no bows anywhere among the attackers.

It is all too easy. Aragorn thought to himself. The Uruk-hai are far too intelligent to attack a heavily fortified city without some weapon for killing guards atop the wall.  There are only two plausible solutions to this riddle, then.  Either there is another, more powerful force on the way here or this siege is merely a distraction from their true purpose.  Faramir must have realized this as well, for I can think of no other reason why he would leave in the middle of the battle.  The same goes for Gimli and Legolas.  I know they would never do anything as cowardly as running from a simple skirmish.  I wonder if perhaps Faramir knew of their real target when he ran off.

The answer suddenly hit Aragorn like a tidal wave.  He recalled Legolas' vision of the House of Stewards being plundered. Of course!  Their true target may be the House of Stewards.  That must have been where Faramir headed.  I only hope that they reach it before the Uruk-hai find whatever they came for.  Legolas was right.  There must be something of value hidden away in those halls that our enemies know of but we do not.

At that moment, the harsh cry of a battle horn echoed across the Pelennor.  Aragorn's frown deepened, for he knew that horn command well from past battles.  It was a signal to retreat.  What remained of the siege force suddenly turned around and ran with all speed in the direction they had come from.  The soldiers upon the ramparts let out a mighty cheer and began to yell taunting insults at the retreating foes, shooting down any stragglers.  The only one who was not celebrating atop the wall was the King of Gondor.  For the Uruk-hai to retreat so suddenly could only mean one thing; the battle was merely a diversion and they had gotten what they had come for.

Aragorn called out to six men to follow him and immediately headed in the direction of the fourth level.  I only hope that Legolas, Gimli, and Faramir are all right.

*          *          *   

The site that met the King of Gondor when he finally reached the House of Stewards was not at all what he had expected.  He had prepared himself for the worst as he ran to his destination with a squadron of his best soldiers.  When he arrived at the House of Stewards, Aragorn had expected to find blood splattered about the Silent Street and the bodies of the slain intruders, and perhaps the bodies of his friends as well, lying in the center of a great battle zone.  What he found confused him greatly.  There was no blood and no bodies.  In fact, the Silent Street looked as pristine as it had been for many years.  The only evidence that any sort of confrontation had taken place came in the form of Gimli helping a dazed Faramir to sit up. 

Gimli looked up as Aragorn approached. "Faramir took a fair knock on the head, Aragorn, but he will live."

"And you, my friend?" The king questioned the Dwarf.

Gimli shook his head and began to stroke his beard. "A few knocks, but I am otherwise unharmed.  It's that blasted Elf that I am worried about right now.  He took off down the street after one of our enemies snuck away during the middle of the battle.  That was nearly twenty minutes ago."

Aragorn frowned. "I have witnessed Legolas' capabilities in battle on many occasions, so I see no reason to worry about him.  What concerns me now is what happened to the both of you."

"Faramir ran off during the siege on the wall.  Legolas and I went after him, for he seemed very agitated about something.  All he would tell us was that the House of Stewards was in danger; something about not letting them get what was left behind.  Though what that means makes little rational sense to me.  We arrived here and immediately became engaged in battle with several Men dressed in the armor of your own soldiers.  I believe there were nine of them, if my eyes were correct," He shot Aragorn a scathing look, silencing any comments. "And my eyes have always been correct.  During the battle, another emerged from the House with a sack over his shoulder and the Elf went after him.  After that, our attackers began to fight more fiercely.  There are few who are quick enough to avoid any blows from my axe, but somehow these Men were able to.  The steward and I were separated and I was almost overwhelmed.  It was then that I heard an orc horn sounding a retreat.  Our enemies immediately ran off, and I must say that I have never seen Men move so swiftly.  I was about to pursue them when I saw that Faramir had fallen and no Dwarf would ever leave a fallen comrade alone.  He woke up just as you appeared."

"So they got away," The king frowned again, staring off in the direction of the main wall.

"Forgive me, my liege," Faramir whispered from where he sat propped up against Gimli's shoulder. "I could not stop them."

Aragorn shook his head. "No, Faramir.  There was nothing to forgive.  Gimli says that you were overwhelmed nine to two.  The fact that your only injury is a bump on the head is a miracle in itself.  I would hate to be the one to tell Éowyn that her husband had been run through before knowing his first child."

Faramir managed a weak smile. "I only hope that Legolas has been more successful than Gimli and me."

"Alas, for I have not been successful at all," Legolas came walking up with the confiscated sack slung over one shoulder.  His steps seemed heavier than usual and he carried himself in a subdued manner.

Aragorn was immediately at his old friend's side. "Did you catch him? Are you unharmed?"

"I am unharmed," The Elf prince sighed. "And I was able to catch the Man I pursued.  However, I failed to keep him in my custody for very long.  I had thought he was unconscious, but he woke up the moment I heard the orc horn.  I was not looking at him when it happened, but he appeared to have vanished into thin air."

"Yet you have recovered that which the villain stole," Gimli pointed at the sack.

Legolas simply closed his eyes and shook his head. "No, I did not."

The Elf sighed almost imperceptibly as he opened the sack and dumped its contents onto the street.  Aragorn raised an eyebrow in confusion, Faramir hung his head in shame and defeat, and Gimli scratched his beard thoughtfully.

"Rocks," the Dwarf shifted through the stones on the street with the handle of his axe. "And not very interesting rocks at that.  Were these bejeweled or held some sort of carving, then I could understand why they would be stolen.  But these here are just broken shards and I can see a few cobblestones among them.  They are hardly good for anything all broken up like that.  Now I know rocks, and there is absolutely nothing significant about the ones before me.  I can not see why they would be desired by our enemies."

"They were not after stones, Gimli," Faramir sighed deeply. "These were just a decoy to lead us away from their true target."

Aragorn frowned as he helped Faramir back onto his feet. "You know what their target was, then?"

Pulling away from his king, Faramir slowly made his way inside the House of Stewards, his steps uneasy as he battled with a pounding headache.  The others followed behind him at a respectable distance, not sure where the steward was heading.  Faramir finally stopped before the tombs of his father and brother and fell to his knees with a strangled cry of grief.

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli immediately went to the distraught steward's side and looked in horror upon the sight before them.  One of the tombs had been smashed open by some unknown force.  Dust and debris were scattered across the floor.  Four heads bowed in sorrow when they looked into shattered tomb.

The remains of Boromir, son of Denethor, captain of the White Tower, and member of the Fellowship of the Ring were gone.     

A/N: An extra special thanks to Sinead for looking over this chapter and pointing out all of my mistakes.  She has also threatened to kill me if I don't get chapter 5 written immediately, so that'll be out a lot faster than this chapter.

Ok, everyone, it's time for a little reader response.  I have some plans for Faramir and Éowyn's first child that will be used in the final chapter.  However, I have a slight dilemma.  I have no idea what gender the child will be.  A boy would make the most sense, but a girl could also work very well.  What do all of you think?  Should their first child be a son or a daughter? (And no, I'm not going to have Éowyn bear twins.)