Wow, thank you guys for the reviews! Withered Black Rose, yeah it does sort of seem like a history book, doesn't it? haha I just love how Tolkien created such a detailed world, and I love how he had specific dates so I guess I felt that I should include them. Voldie on Varisty Track, I left you an email!

Disclaimer: Nope…(checks watch)…I still don't own Lord of the Rings. But I do own Cilcyn, Eafea, Freosefa,and my plot.

I'm sure all of you guys know that Tolkien based names of his characters on Old English. Well, I found a really nifty website that shows the Old English words for English words, so that's how I created Cilcyn, Eafea, and Freosefa's names. I'll tell you what their names mean in the chapters to come! Oooohh cliffhanger…haha no not really…Anyway, read, enjoy, and review! :)

Chapter 2

"Lord of the Nazgul! You wretched menace! Back I say! Back!" Cilcyn yelled as she thrust her sword out in front of her.

"You can't defeat the Witch King!" Elboron yelled back, trying his best to appear to look terrifying by bearing his teeth, but he ended up bursting into a fit of giggles instead. After recovering from his laughter, Elboron swung his wooden sword up towards Cilcyn, but she easily blocked his attack with a swift move of her sword.

"Ahhh! Your blade has weakened me!" Cilcyn cried dramatically, and fell to the ground.

"Oh, Cilcyn, I'm sorry!" Elboron said apologetically, and knelt down towards his sister who was laying on the stone cold floor in agony.

"A-ha!" she said with a smile when Elboron bent over her in worry. Cilcyn took her wooden sword and pushed it through the space between his arm and side, appearing to look as if she had stuck her sword through his body.

Elboron frowned, realizing that he had lost due to Cilcyn's tricks once again, but tried to dramatically die anyway.

"I'm weakening…as…the seconds pass…" Elboron whispered, and fell to the ground of the great hall, attempting to look dead on the floor.

"That isn't fair!" shouted Eafea from behind a large, stone pillar. He stalked out from behind it, and threw his wooden sword to the ground in anger. "I'm the hobbit! I was supposed to kill the Witch King! Mother didn't kill it!"

"Sorry, Eafea," Cilcyn said exasperatedly while lending a hand to pick up Elboron from the ground. "Mother and Merry did kill it together, though."

"You can kill me again if you'd like, Eafea," said Elboron, smiling down at his little brother of six years. Eafea nodded in agreement, and picked up his sword from the ground. Elboron stood up, once again attempting to look evil, though it was difficult for an eleven-year old child to look terrifying. He screamed loudly and menacingly as Eafea charged towards him from across the hall, the large windows pouring sunlight onto the three children who were enjoying themselves on a summer day. Eafea's little feet pounded against the stone, and his blonde curls bounced on top of his head as he sprinted towards Elboron. The wooden sword of Eafea was about to strike between Elboron's arm and side when their father's voice was heard.

"Eafea!" Faramir yelled, and ran out into the middle of the large, stone hall, picking up Eafea in his arms as the little boy tried to run away.

"It just looked as if you were going to kill your brother, Eafea," Faramir said seriously, though he winked at Cilcyn who leaned against a stone pillar.

"We was just playing Witch King!" Eafea cried as Faramir set him back down on the ground. Eafea swashed his wooden sword through the air, appearing to strike at an invisible enemy.

"Witch King?" Farmair asked amusedly, his eyes locked on Elboron.

"Yes sir," said Elboron, smiling brightly, "Mother told us the story yesterday for the thousandth time, and Cilcyn said that we should play!"

Cilcyn darted her intense gray eyes to Elboron, wishing that he hadn't said that it was her idea. After all, she was going to be turning fifteen in a matter of weeks, and it was not accustomed for young women of that age to still be playing silly games. She fiddled with the silky fabric of her sky blue gown somewhat nervously, hoping that her father wouldn't be upset at all. Her father, Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, looked towards her and focused his light gray eyes on his daughter.

Faramir was a wonderful father, and always spent tons of time with his three children: Cilcyn, the eldest and only girl who loved the outdoors, Elboron, the middle child who had a heart for adventure, and Eafea, the littlest son with a love of childish games because he was still only six.

Faramir turned to Cilcyn, and walked towards her slowly with his hands behind his back, Eafea and Elboron following Faramir close behind, mimicking him by putting their hands behind their backs.

"Cilcyn! My dear Cilcyn! This was your idea?" he asked skeptically, though there was a twinkle in his eye. "You must know that at almost fifteen, it would be preposterous to play such a game!"

"Oh, Father, I am ever so sorry!" Cilcyn cried playfully, realizing he was not upset in any sense that she was still playing a child's game.

"Because of your actions…I will…have to…" Faramir began grievingly, "Torture the little ones!" he shouted quickly and turned around abruptly, and knelt down to the floor, grabbing Eafea and Elboron in his arms, and playfully tickling them.

Eowyn had heard laughter and shouts from the great hall and a smile passed her lips. The laughter of her children always put her in high spirits. She lifted up her long, white gown so that she could run quicker to the hall. Eowyn came through the large, wooden door that was the entrance to the hall, and Faramir looked up from playing with his sons, seeing Eowyn in the doorway.

Her beauty always took Faramir's breath away whenever he saw her, even after fifteen years. Faramir brushed his wavy, blonde hair out of his face so that he could lay his eyes on Eowyn. Elboron and Eafea jumped out of Faramir's arms and began to swordfight with their wooden swords, laughing and smiling as if it was the happiest day of their life. Cilcyn was still leaning against a wide pillar, watching her two fair-haired brothers pretend as if they were in battle. She saw her mother enter the hall, and her father admire her as they met in the middle of the hall and kissed shortly. Cilcyn hurried over to her parents with a smile on her face.

"And here's the one," Faramir said while putting his arm around Cilcyn, "The one that had to indulge herself in the mock battle of Pelennor Fields."

"Guess who I was, Mother!" Cilcyn urged sweetly.

"Who?" Eowyn laughed as she turned to Cilcyn.

"The fierce warrior Dernhelm! Disguised as a man, she rode into battle and defeated the Witch King!" Eowyn yelled as she raised her sword of wood into the air in victory.

"I guess my stories have an impact on my children, then," Eowyn said as she looked from Elboron and Eafea still fighting before them, then back to Cilcyn who handed her sword to Faramir, urging him to go and play with her brothers.

Eowny's smile faded as her gray eyes locked on Cilcyn. Whenever Eowyn took a hard look at Cilcyn, or even a passing glance, she saw traits of her first love. No one besides Eowyn and Aragorn knew that Cilcyn was actually theirs; not even Cilcyn. Everyone knew, however, that Cilcyn did not share much of a resemblance to her brothers who were fair-haired and pale skinned. Cilcyn had a tanner look about her, almost as if she was naturally darker-skinned. As she was growing up, Cilcyn often thought that her darker skin was due to being in the sun too much, and she had vowed to stay inside their large house in the Emyn Arnen, a series of hills across the Anduin River from Minas Tirith, so that she would become paler. However, her plan to stay inside never succeeded since she loved being outdoors, and riding her horse, Freosefa, across the Emyn Arnen.

Cilcyn despised her dark, wavy hair, and her tan skin, but what she hated the most were her bluish-gray eyes that resembled the color of the Anduin River. Anyone who had ever laid eyes on Cilcyn, however, thought that her eyes were captivating and gorgeous. Everyone thought that she was extremely beautiful, but to Cilcyn, she thought she was the ugly one in her family. Just because she had a different beauty about her she thought she was unattractive. She did resemble her mother partly, with her skinny frame and pretty face, but Cilcyn always noticed that there was something missing from herself. She never knew that it was that Faramir was not actually her father.

Faramir bent down and beckoned his two sons over towards him. They ran playfully over towards their loving father and jumped into his arms. He noticed that Elboron was growing taller every day, but his chin-length, wavy, blonde hair outlined his still-boyish face, leaving him with a forever young look about him. Eafea was growing quickly as well, but was still extremely young. Faramir looked behind his shoulder to Cilcyn and Eowyn who began to walk out of the great hall and he thought of how beautiful a woman that Cilcyn was becoming. Smiling, he turned back to Eafea and Elboron, and jabbed Cilcyn's wooden sword out in front him, challenging his sons to a fight.

Out of all of the things in the world, Faramir enjoyed spending time with his children the most. He got such a joy of indulging himself in a swordfight with his children, and often was reminded of how his childhood was not as enjoyable as theirs. Faramir's father, Denethor II, favored Faramir's brother, Boromir over him. It hurt Faramir deep inside, and wished that his father had given both him and Boromir the same amount of care and affection. As if to make up for his father's mistakes, Faramir spoiled his own children, always trying his hardest to give each of them the same amount of attention, and love each of them equally. Because of Faramir's active role in his three children's lives, they all loved him with all their hearts and Elboron, as he approached manhood, hoped that he could become at least half the man that Faramir had become.

Eowyn put her arm around Cilcyn and guided her to the wooden door of the large, stone hall that led onto a large wooden balcony overlooking the Emyn Arnen. Cilcyn and Eowyn leaned up against the railing that was made of the finest wood and encircled the huge balcony, their eyes gazing out over the Anduin River to Minas Tirith. Cilcyn wished that one day she could travel to Minas Tirith, as she was old enough to go those many miles. However, whenever Cilcyn had brought up traveling Minas Tirith in the past to her mother, she simply said that it was not allowed. Faramir never seemed to object, but Eowyn always had. Looking at the gigantic and gorgeous city of Minas Tirith was heart wrenching for both Eowyn and Cilcyn. Eowyn wished that she could forget all of Aragorn, but never had those thoughts been completely erased.

Cilcyn wished as they stood on the balcony, watching the city in the distance, that she could one day go to Minas Tirith just to experience its beauty and glory. Little did Cilcyn know that fate would have her journeying to Minas Tirith soon enough.