Hola!
Yes, she is still alive, and writing, lol. RL has been a bitch lately, its seems all I have been doing for the past few months is studying....tests....studying....assignments.....studying....exams! And more to come! Second Year Uni is bloody hard!
But I have finally managed to get this latest part finished, and I think you will like this one; it's a bit different than how the rest of the story has been. As you can tell, its called Gondorian Memories, and from my planning so far, will be about a four or five part mini-story inside the main story, of Sam, Gandalf and Gilraen's trip to Gondor in 3017 TA (where in the story, Gandalf reads the scrolls of Isildur). It will get a bit more in to depths with the relationships between Sam and the Gondor boys (Faramir and Boromir) and hopefully, if all goes well, will tie up nicely by the time the fellowship (with Sam in toe...oh! Spoiler!) end up in Minas Tirith for the big conclusion of the War of the Ring.
Also, just so you don't get alarmed with it gets posted up, I am currently writing a Alias fanfic at the moment, as well as this one. Don't ask me where it came from cause I wouldn't have a clue, but it just popped up out of nowhere so my writing time is now divided up between the two stories. The Alias fanfic, called "Shadows of Genesis" probably won't be posted for a while cause I want to get at least 5 parts done before I post. Its Sarkney, for all of you who follow that relationship (or hint of it) so keep your eyes and ears peeled.
Right. Finished the little updates. One with the post!
Kim
"Gondorian Memories, Part 1"
"A lord of wisdom throned he sat,
swift in anger, quick to laugh;
an old man in a battered hat,
who leaned upon a thorny staff.
He stood upon the bridge alone
And Fire and Shadow both defied;
His staff was broken on the stone,
In Khazad-dûm his wisdom died.
The finest rockets ever seen;
They burst in stars of blue and green,
Or after thunder golden showers
Came falling like a rain of flowers."
- Frodo and Sam's Lament for Gandalf – "The Fellowship of the Ring"
Minas Tirith, The Lands of Gondor...
To three-year-olds eyes, it was like nothing she had ever seen before. Sitting in front of her mother in the saddle, young Gilraen Cheyenne O'Neill leaned forward, as if she could get herself closer to the amazing sight in front of her without even having to take a step.
The wind was blowing through the silky strands of the little girl's golden hair as the two horses stood quietly on top of the hill, all three of their riders staring down at the wonder that was the silver city in front of them. It was still a good few hours ride away, but to all of them, it was as their long journey had suddenly come to an end and all the trials of the past few weeks had been worth it.
Twisting around in the saddle with the agility of an eel, Gilraen peered up into her mother's face through the folds of her warm hood, beaming with childish pleasure.
"Look, mama!" she cried, reaching up to pat Sam's face to get her attention. "Look at the city!"
But it was as if Sam didn't hear her, for she couldn't seem to pull her eyes away from the staggering sight in front of her. Never, in all her life and all her travels, had she seen anything quite like this. It was as if the city had been carved out of the mountain, and the people who lived within it had been forced to battle with nature herself to gain supremacy over the carving of their homes.
Absently, Sam released one of the arms that had been snaked around her daughter's small waist to hold her in place on Madonna and reached up to brush a handful of golden hair away from her eyes so she could get a full view of the wonder she was beholding. Not until that moment had she been able to grasp what Gandalf had been telling her about the beauty of the White City. What it was about it that made its people so very patriotic that they would willingly die before its walls than see it overrun by the enemy.
But now, sitting here on Madonna, with Gilraen's warm body tucked into hers, she finally understood. And as she continued to stare, to soak up every little detail she could make out at this distance, one thought instantly came to mind.
"God, Daniel," she whispered, seemingly to herself. "How I wish you could see this."
Curious, having heard her mother's words and wondering about the unknown person she was talking to, Gilraen again patted Sam's face, this time succeeding in getting her attention. Blinking, Sam tore her eyes away from the massive city below them and looked down into her daughter's small face that was almost swallowed in the hood of her cloak.
"What's the matter, hen?" she asked gently, at the same time placing the back of her hand on the little girl's cheek to see if she was too chilled. Seeing that she wasn't, and still held the rosy glow of excitement, Sam gave her a huge smile and listened to what she had to say.
"Can we really go in there, Mama?" Gilraen was asking, her sea blue eyes huge at the very thought of it.
But Sam only gave a laugh and turned the three-year-old forward in the saddle once again, wrapping both ends of her elvish cloak around the little body in front of her before answering. "We certainly can, hen. You remember that Gandalf has some very important business to attend to in the city, and he was very nice to invite us along for the ride."
As she said this, Sam flashed a smile in the direction of the rider beside her, only to get a chuckle from Gandalf in return. Warm and comfortable astride his own mount, the Wizard was also staring down at the city, with a satisfied look on his face.
Turning to her, he asked joyfully, "Am I to take it, my dear, that you approve of your fellow man?"
But Sam only snorted. "If they can build a city like that, out of a goddamned mountain, they obviously have something going for them."
Raising his eyebrows at her answer, the Wizard turned his horse forward once again, and asked the woman beside him, "Shall we continue? It would be best if we arrived before dark, after all. Gondorians, like most people, don't take to kindly to strangers arriving after dusk."
Smirking, Sam only shook her head in wonder as she righted Madonna for the climb down the hill. As the two horses started off, she called over her shoulder to the Wizard, letting her voice be carried by the wind; "I can't really see why they worry, with a set of gates like that. It would take an army to get into that city."
And over an hour later, as they crossed the Pelennor, Sam saw that her words held truth. For as they got closer and closer to the city she could make it out in more detail and saw that the fortifications were like nothing she had ever seen. Letting her military mind take over, something that it didn't do very often these days she mused, Sam came to the conclusion that the primitiveness of their weaponry aside, the city looked more like a fortress than the home of thousands of people.
But she wisely kept her opinions to herself as the two horses causally cantered along the thin road towards the gates of the city. Gandalf might be tolerant of her odd musings a great deal of the time, but things like machine guns and cannons were slightly above his ken.
Anyway, Sam thought, as she watched the enormous leveled city get closer as they neared it, this was Gandalf's trip more than hers, and there was no way she was going to sidetrack him talking about things he had no way of understanding. She knew the real reason for their journey to Gondor was so the Wizard could read the scrolls of Isildur, and hopefully learn more about the Ring of Power that he had a suspicion his young Hobbit friend Frodo Baggins was in possession of.
"It's so big, Mama!" Gilraen whispered in front of her, loud enough for her to hear, and Sam gave the little girl's shoulders a squeeze of reassurance. But when she turned around and peered up into Sam's face, her mother could see she had a question she was just dying to ask.
"What is it, Gilly?" Sam asked kindly. "Your not scared are you?"
The little face in front of her instantly scrunched up in indignant protest. "No!" she cried defiantly, then looked unsure as she asked next, "Will we get a bath, Ma?"
Sam couldn't help it and laughed, causing Gandalf to look behind him at what was so funny. But Sam just waved a hand, telling him everything was fine and he turned back around with a shake of his head, probably wondering why human's had to be such strange beings.
Pushing her daughter further back against her chest so she was almost swallowed in her mother's huge cloak, Sam leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I'm sure these nice people will give us a bath, hen." Then she playfully scrunched up her nose and said, "They had better, because we all need one real bad, don't we?"
When the little girl went off in a pearl of familiar sounding giggles and she nodded her small head enthusiastically, Sam realised the probable truth of what she said. They had been travelling for over a week and were in need of not just a good long bath, but also real beds. As she continued on this line of thought, Sam realised that Gilraen had made the journey impressively well. While in truth the three-year-old had slept a great deal of the way, curled up inside her mother's cloak as she was now, she had been a cheerful and pleasing companion for both her and Gandalf when awake.
On their previous journeys through Middle-Earth, Sam had opted to leave Gilraen either in Lorien with Galadriel, or if they were going past it, in Rivendell with Arwen and her father. This was her first long journey with the two travelers and Sam was immensely proud of her daughter for how she had handled it.
Just then, her train of thought was interrupted by Gilraen abruptly sitting up straight in front of her, her eyes obviously catching sight of something in front of her. This was further backed when the little girl cried, "Look, Mama!" and pointed a small hand forward.
Looking up, Sam felt a warning flutter in her stomach as she caught sight of the long line of armored soldiers fanning out along the edge of the first level of the city, just above the gates. Even though she couldn't see their faces, it was obvious that they were all staring down at the two small figures on horseback nearing the city gates, probably not being able to make out Gilraen hidden in Sam's cloak.
"Gandalf?" Sam cried out anxiously to her friend, wondering if this was normal greeting into the city. But when the Wizard fell back to ride parallel with her, she was greatly relieved and said so. But the Wizard only shook his head.
"These are dark times, Samantha. It is best if the city is on its guard. Truth by told, I would be greatly alarmed it we had not been regarded with suspicion." Then he looked down at the child peaking out from the green cloak and a gentle look came to his eyes.
"And how do you find your greeting from Gondor, young one?" he asked Gilraen, obviously trying to take her mind off the guards staring down at them as they neared the gates.
But the girl only shook her head and frowned up at the men on the battlements. "They are rude, Mithrandir," she protested, causing both her mother and the Wizard to regard her with surprise. "Galadriel would be angry." Her words were said simply and truthfully and both adults shared a look over the child's unusual logic.
"Out of the mouths of babes, indeed." Sam muttered and Gandalf nodded his agreement.
But then all conversation was cut off as a terrible grating sound filled the air and Sam realised nervously that they were opening the gates. She watched as both huge doors were pushed open, allowing them entry. And as they finally passed under the monstrous archway, Sam tilted her head back and stared up at the ageless carvings adorning the stone cupola.
But when she lowered her head she found she didn't know where to look first, there were so many things to stare at and admire. The city was exactly what she had expected it to be inside, and like many others she had seen on her travels through the Stargate. It was busy and bustling, with people coming to and fro in all directions, all with their own business to do and people to see.
As Sam stared in fascination at the many people who were walking about, she noticed with some curiosity that a great number of them were dark haired. Coming from Lorien were everyone was as blonde as the sun, to see some contrast was a pleasant surprise. The only negative outcome she could find from this was that her and Gilraen would stick out like sore thumbs.
With this in mind, she reached up to make sure her hood was secure on top of her head, and did the same with Gilraen, only to find her daughter's quick mind was running along the same tracks as hers when the little girl whispered loudly, "They all look like Pènne and Arwen, Ma!" Sam could have smiled at the displeased tone of her voice but held back. To Gilraen, their two elvish friends were the most beautiful people in the world, and Sam found it quite sweet that she was indignant on their behalves.
"Just their hair, hen." Sam whispered back as she steered Madonna to follow Gandalf's bay mount through the thong of people, many of which were staring up at the Wizard in curiosity, not to mention the woman who traveled with him. But Sam was used to curious people wanting to seem the 'strangers' from distant lands and kept her eyes glued firmly between Madonna's ears, both of which were flicking nervously from the squash of people.
They had reached the second level of the city before anyone came out to meet them. Sam was just leaning forward to give Madonna's neck a reassuring pat, bending a giggling Gilraen along with her, when a hearty voice called out from above them on the stone pathway,
"Hail! Mithrandir!
Sam froze at the voice, distinctly male, and heard the sound of hooves on the cobbles as the rider approached. She was slowly straightening in the saddle, pulling a silent Gilraen up with her, when she heard Gandalf's joyful reply.
"Merry greetings, Faramir! I had hoped to find you here!"
Recognizing the name, Sam let her shoulder's relax and turned her head slowly to take her first glimpse at the younger son of Gondor that Gandalf had told her much about. She found the tall, fair young man instantly, as he was just pulling his horse to a stop beside the Wizard, and was breathing heavily from his obviously hasty ride down through the city to greet his old friend.
It was the broad smile on his handsome face that pushed the last of Sam's doubts aside. After four years hidden away in Lothlórien, Sam wasn't about to trust the first human she set eyes on, even one whom Gandalf was obviously very fond of. But she could tell from his expression alone that there was no deceit within him, or none that he yet knew of. Here was simply a young Lord greeting an old friend after a long absence.
She could also tell he hadn't noticed her yet, for the young man only had eyes for the Grey Wizard and was clasping Gandalf's arm warmly in greeting.
"The Scouts told of your arrival, but I had feared them mistaken!" Faramir cried as he reached up and unconsciously wiped a lock of light brown hair from his brow. His eyes were filled with merry excitement as he gave a quick glance at their surroundings and finally noticed the blonde woman upon the handsome chestnut mare.
His eyes opening wide, Faramir stared at her, wondering who she was and why she was there. It was only after his brain registered her elvish travelling cloak and hood that he realized with a surprised jolt that she was with the Wizard. Silence fell upon the group as the guards with Faramir noticed their Lord's distraction and turned to stare at the woman also. For her part, Sam kept a neutral expression on her face and stared back at the men, her arm unconsciously tightening around Gilraen waist under the cloak, causing the little girl to let out an indignant cry when it became too much to bare.
The effect was instantaneous. Faramir's eyes dropped from Sam's face to her waist and if possible, his eyes grew rounder when Gilraen began to wiggle in annoyance and the cloth fell away, exposing not only her little form, but her head of blonde curls.
"Mama! Ouch!" she cried, pulling away from Sam, which made the woman finally blink and drop her gaze to the girl. Realizing what she was doing, Sam let go instantly and rested a light hand on her daughter's small shoulder as she idly murmured soothing words of apology.
Faramir couldn't help it and let the slow smile break out on his lips at the sight of the little girl with the shining hair. Girl children in the city were mostly seen and not heard, being under their mother's guidance and authority from the day they were born. Young boys were slightly different, as it was they who would protect the walls of the city in the years to come, so special attention was always accorded to them.
But when he realized Gandalf was speaking beside him, Faramir blinked and quickly turned away from the pair, luckily just as the Wizard was making his introductions.
"Faramir of Gondor, may I introduce my dear friend, the Lady Samantha of Lothlórien." Seeing the shocked looks her title had brought to the faces of not just Faramir, but the soldiers surrounding the small group; the Wizard gave a dry laugh. "Samantha had been a delightful companion of mine over the past few years."
As the questions started to build in his mind, Faramir swung down from his horse and walked to short distance that separated him from the blonde woman on the chestnut mare. Coming to stand before her, he gently took hold of the horse's bridle and looked up at her where she sat, silent and still, staring down at him with hooded eyes. The little girl's expression could have matched if it wasn't for the look of blatant curiosity in her eyes as she watched him. All in all, it wasn't hard to see they were mother and daughter.
Sam was torn. Everything in her body was telling her to dismount and greet the young man politely, as not to shame Galadriel and Celeborn. But there was something, a dark shiver in the very bottom of her stomach that kept her on Madonna, her legs squeezing the horse's sides under her woolen travelling skirts, as if ready to bolt at any second. She could tell Madonna could sense her unsettled mood not only by the way the horse was flicking her ears back and forth nervously, but also by the little jumps she was making, while tugging at her bridle that was still in the young Lord's firm grip.
Gilraen, not understanding her mother's frozen demeanor, leaned forward and clumsily patted the mare's neck soothingly while murmuring under her breath, "There, there, silly ninny. Stand still."
Obviously catching her strange words from beside them, Faramir turned to the little girl with an amused grin. "And who might you be, young one?" he asked, causing Gilraen to sit up straight in the saddle and peer down at him in surprise.
"My name is Gilraen Cheyenne O'Neill, sir." she answered promptly.
Flicking his eyebrows up at Sam while trying to hide a laugh, Faramir let go of Madonna and crossed his arms over his chest, cocking his head to the side. "That is a pretty name, my lady. Some of Gondors greatest maidens once held that name, so you are most fortunate."
Sam kept quite as she listened, oddly touched, as the young man chattered away to her daughter with the gentle, yet calm manner one might use with an adult. Sam felt herself start to relax as she felt whatever uncertainties she had felt for this young man start to creep back into the darkness of her anxious subconscious.
Gilraen was in her element and was peering down at Faramir with a knowing glint in her eyes. "Oh, yes," she answered calmly, sounding much older than her three years. "Mama and Aragorn tell me that all the time."
It was the sound of the Ranger's name that snapped Sam out of her trance and she shot Gandalf a glance of alarm before turning back to Faramir, who if had noted her distraction, wasn't about to comment on it. Smiling demurely down at the man, she asked softly, "If you wouldn't mind, my lord?"..." while pointing to Gilraen to get her message across.
Faramir blinked at her sudden activity and looked slightly blank before the arrival of the Wizard behind him made it clear what she meant. He obligingly moved out of the way and watched, along with his slightly stunned men, as Gandalf the Gray, Herald and Counsel of Kings, reached up and gathered the little girl into his arms, swinging her down from the horse and onto her feet.
Gilraen, glad to be on safe ground once again, proceeded to peer around at the sights of the city with curious eyes, which she could make out through the men's legs. The warm travelling skirts she wore blew around her small body as she stood next to Gandalf, almost swallowed in his gray cloak, her fascinated gaze unable to stay still as she waited for her mother to dismount.
Faramir reached up and patted the striking blaze on Madonna's cinnamon nose just as Sam felt her feet touch the ground. Heaving a slight sigh of relief as she stretched the kinks out of her shoulders, the blonde woman looked automatically for her daughter and relaxed when she found her safe and sound standing in front of Gandalf's knees.
Then, knowing that it was well overdue, she turned to Faramir and lowered herself in a slight curtsey of respectful greeting. "My apologies for my rudeness, my lord." She murmured politely. "I thank you for your kind greetings."
Faramir also, was too well bred to comment any further on her slightly unorthodox manner of the last few minutes. Dipping his head in acknowledgement, he offered her his arm with a smile. "Allow me to accompany you to my father's hall. Having heard of Mithrandir's arrival, he will undoubtedly be surprised to find additional travelers along with him."
Looking down, Sam took Gilraen's upstretched hand in hers, and tucked the other one in the crook of Faramir's arm. And together, the three of them followed the graceful figure of the wizard up through the spiral leveled maze of the city, Faramir's men leading the horses behind them, not that they actually had to bother with Madonna, for she would have followed Sam anywhere without a bridle.
And when the small yet impressive party finally reached the High Court, and Sam found herself staring across at the sweeping grassy lawn, she craned her neck upwards, catching sight of the white and blue banners that blew proudly, thousands of feet in the air above them on the highest arches of the Citadel. Before them was a row of motionless guards, all robed in black, save for their helms, which sprouted white wings of sea-birds from their cheek-guards.
Sam eyed them with interest as they neared them, saw how proudly they held their chins, how straight their backs and knew that finally, they had reached the very heart of Gondor, for on their chests burst the White Tree in all its former glory. They were the guards of Elendil, the last lord, and none wore it now in all Gondor, save the Guards of the Citadel before the Court of the Fountain where the White Tree once had grown.
Looking around, Sam found the White Tree of Gondor, or what was left of it. She had heard the stories from Gandalf, of course, of the heirs of Isildur and kings of old, but to stand here now, witnessing the glory of the city first hand, was something quite different. The doors of the Hall were before them, protected once again by another row of still guards, its tall doors of polished metal gleaming in the sun. Sam knew what lay of their other side, and whom, and forcefully squashed the notion to turn and bolt.
Faramir, noticing her silence, and thinking her merely overcome with the splendor of his father's court, gave her a gentle smile that she did not see, and turned to speak to Gandalf, leaving both Sam and Gilraen by themselves. Mother and daughter were both silent, Sam overcome with what she was seeing, and Gilraen to busy staring up at the tall guards in front of her in fascination to pick up on her mother's odd mood.
But when Sam abruptly moved away from the group, leading her daughter by the hand, Faramir was not the only one to stop and stare at the striking, golden woman in their midst. They all wondered who she was, where she had come from, and what made her walk with the grace and poise of a Queen.
Without speak, Sam lead Gilraen across the soft grass, walking slowly so that her daughter's little legs could keep up, and came to a stop beside the fountain where the dead tree stood, motionless as its protectors, suspended in limbo, but always waiting...waiting....
Waiting for what, Sam did not know. But as she stood there, unable to tear her gaze away from its spidery branches, Gilraen at her side, the rest of their surroundings became nothing but shadows, the only sound she could hear was a slight hum, a pulsing beat that she knew came from the tree itself. She didn't know how long she stood there; it could have been hours or merely minutes, for she wouldn't have known. All she could see was herself, her daughter and the dead silver tree in front of her.
And later on, when she had time to think about it properly, Sam would swear she could feel its pain, its impatience, and its power as she gaze up at it from beside the fountain walls. And she knew, without being told, that it was old, as old as time, and had seen things that people now could only read about, and imagine.
But when she felt a hand on her arm, Sam jerked away as if burned, blinking madly as she finally managed to tear her gaze away from the crying tree and stare up at the person beside her. It was Faramir, and he was alone, the rest of the group still on the path with the guards, yet they were all staring across at her, their eyes wide with speculation. Even Gandalf, who was not bothered easily, was watching her as if he had never seen her before, and his face was a deadly white.
Feeling herself blush, Sam looked away from his thoughtful gaze and found Faramir staring down at her, his eyes hooded; yet filled with a speculative gleam that she did not like at all. And it was only then that she noticed the small hand clasped tightly in her own, and with a start, she looked down at Gilraen, only to find the little girl frozen in place, her eyes huge as she gazed up at the tree.
Feeling a rush of panic, Sam forgot all about Faramir and the men watching her and gracefully fell to her knees before the little girl, her eyes searching over the pale face for any hint of life. Finding only the blank stare of her fair eyes, Sam reached up and cupped the side of Gilraen cubby cheek, giving it a squeeze while she murmured soothing words to snap her out of it, only to be shocked at the frozen feel of her cheek. Running her hands down the girl's arms to grip her small hands, Sam gasped when she found them cold as ice.
She could feel Faramir's eyes drilling into her back, but she ignored it. All her being was concentrated on the little girl in front of her. "Baby?" she whispered loudly to Gilraen in question, but got no response. It was only when she gave the girl a short, yet firm shake that life sprang back into her eyes, and the three-year-old blinked abruptly, taking a huge breath of air.
Running her hands through the silky strands of her daughter's hair, Sam asked in concern, "Sweetheart? Are you okay?" It was then that she felt the figure beside her, and jerking her eyes around, she was startled to find Faramir crouching down, peering into Gilraen little face, his eyes filled with worry.
"Does she suffer?" he asked Sam quickly, and she saw his blue eyes skimming over her daughter's small form, obviously looking for injury.
It was just then that Gilraen blinked and let out a shuddering breath, crying out softly in a frightened voice, "Mother?" as she looked around her with panic filled eyes.
Sam's reaction was instant, and she scooped the little girl up in her arms and stood, encircling the thin little back with a firm, solid grip. But it was the way Gilraen immediately snaked her arms around Sam's neck and buried her face in the soft flow of her mother's golden shoulder that worried Sam the most, and she turned, searching for Gandalf's gaze even as she started to whisper soothing words to the frightened little girl in her arms.
She was relieved to find the Wizard already hurrying towards them, covering a lot of ground even with his staff and billowing cloak. When he reached them he all but ignored Sam and Faramir, who was standing beside Sam, and bent his head instantly towards Gilraen's face, moving a handful of Sam's hair out of the way so he could see the child's face.
The little girl's eyes were squeezed tightly closed and her face was still pale with fright. But Gandalf would not be put off and he gently raised her little head, his eyes peering intently into her face as it did so. Sam wished she knew what he was doing, and why, but couldn't bring herself to speak, her body was still humming slightly from what had just happened.
"Gilraen?" The wizard said lightly, finally succeeding in opening the little girl's eyes, for they fluttered open uncertainly, and peered up at Gandalf.
"Mithrandir?" she whispered, blinking at the mass of gray beard that was inches from her nose. Seeing that it was indeed her wizard, she slowly withdrew one small arm from around her mother's neck and held it out to the old man, letting out a small sigh when he took the small hand in his much larger one and gave it a squeeze.
"The tree scared me," she whispered, resting her cheek on Sam's shoulder, but still gazing up at the wizard. Sam felt herself jerk at her daughter's words, and she knew Faramir noticed, for he shoot her a curious glance, his eyes lingering on her face.
Not wanting him to see what was clearly written all over her face, Sam looked away, flushing, but not quick enough to miss him frown in confusion.
But then Gandalf was there, and leading her by the arm away from the tree and the source of Gilraen's fright.
"Come, Samantha. We have dallied too long as it is, Denethor will grow impatient." He turned to her then as he let her up the steps, Faramir hurrying to catch up with them as the neared the doors. "Are you ready for this?" The question was asked lightly, but Sam could still read the concern in his voice.
Nodding, she shifted Gilraen into a more comfortable position on her hip, noting how the little girl stiffened with the movement and her arms tighten around her neck like a vice. Her lips clenching into a thin line, Sam lifted her head high and followed Gandalf through the doors, ready and waiting for what lay in side....