Yay more!....which, isn't that amazing, seeing as how this is already completed XD

Devonshirelass: thank you so much for your reviews...I'm sure SOMEONE else is reading this as well XD

I wrote a one-shot King Arthur ficlet today on a whim while listening to Loreena and shopping for a Waterhouse poster, go check it out if you're so inclined )

Slight change on who goes/who stays on Faramir's famous suicide run
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The wind was strong that day. Standing upon the wall, Lothiriel sighed, watching the horizon. The sky was dark, the sun dimmed by the thick clouds rolling over the skies above the Pelennor. All was strangely calm...too calm. A day had passed since the company of Imrahil had entered the City, along with the allies from all over the land. Three thousand full, she had counted, but it was whispered that this would not be enough. Lothiriel looked at the vast streets below, which were filled almost only with men in armor, save the occasional women outside of the Houses of Healing, and herself, of course.

But this was not thought to be a great enough number. Lothiriel shut her eyes. She almost wished their enemy would come and they'd have this over with. But no, they were waiting, all of them. She herself had very little to do.

Her Uncle spent much time speaking with Denethor, Imrahir and Edemer often with him. Edemer had been getting quite a few odd looks, as if the men of Gondor wanted to know where the rest of his golden haired kin were.

Indeed, the Rohirrim had been asked to come and aid, and there was no word yet in return. Lothiriel sighed. Not only did she wish her northern kin were there, but also one she had not seen in some years...but he was gone on an errand, and that was all anyone told her.

Her eyes drifted along the length of the wall, to see the Halfling standing not forty feet away. Pippin, she remembered his name was. It was still hard to set in her mind that he was more then ten years her senior, and he was no taller then a child. But he was such a kind fellow, and often looked a bit lost among her tall kin. She liked him. He caught her eye as he spoke to his friend, the soldier Beregond, and smiled. Lothiriel gave him a small wave and a smile in return. They had it in common that they were the minorities in the White City, presently.

Suddenly, Lothiriel's thoughts were cut short by a piercing cry above her head. Startled, her hand instinctively went to the blade at her hip, as her eyes darted frantically about, searching the cloudy skies...she found them as soon as she heard the Hobbit cry the words "Black Riders!"

Even as they filled her with terror, she had seen them before. She had seen them, flying through the air, wretched and cruel and shrieking...but she had thought them only things of nightmares. Lothiriel felt sick, watching them dart back and forth over the fields below...until she saw the one whom the beasts were chasing. "Faramir!" She cried, before any other had realized...
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.Running along the walls to the gates, Lothiriel watched in horror as Faramir and his men's horses went mad at the cries of the winged creatures above. But then there was a Light behind them, and the Black Riders seemed to go mad themselves.... she could not clearly see, as she climbed from the wall to the ground, but she did see the beasts' retreating, to wherever they had come.

Beregond had joined her at the Gates as they opened, and all the men around called out as The Lord Faramir rode into the City, and Lothiriel gasped. Behind him, there was a Rider in White. She knew from the old stories, this was an Istari...
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Faramir exclaimed over seeing the Hobbit there, but when he looked up to see Lothiriel, his eyes went even wider. "Lothiriel?!" The Princess tore her eyes away from the wizard, and gave her cousin a shaky grin. "My mind is surely still at odds, to see a Princess of The Seaside Halls here, where war a bitter promise!"

"Aye, you see correctly." Lothiriel stepped forward, and Faramir did not hesitate in giving her a warm embrace. He was the only one of her cousins in Minas Tirith she had known...the only one who had ever come to visit the Halls. He laughed.

"And in armor no less!" He pulled back, shaking his head. The Wizard behind him cleared his throat. Faramir turned.

"I'm afraid we must make haste, for you are weary, and there is much to say yet." Gandalf said kindly. Faramir nodded. "Walk with me, Lothiriel!" Faramir said, "And the Halfling as well!" Pippin seemed happy to walk by the Wizard, Lothiriel noticed. "So tell me, Lothiriel, what brought you here? And how did you ever get Lord Imrahil to let you come along?"

"My father didn't have much say in the matter." Lothiriel grinned, and Faramir nodded slowly, smiling back at her, realizing the game.

"Well, I trust you've been treated well?" He asked, and she nodded. Indeed, at hearing she was the daughter of Imrahil, most of the men's tongues had been stilled.

"Good, good...is Edemer here as well? I haven't seen either of you for the past three winters, I'm sure he must be taller then I by now."

"He is here." Lothiriel grinned again, "And well taller then most men of this City..." Their words together ended quickly though, as they came to the White Tower.

"I must go." Faramir breathed, and Lothiriel realized that he did indeed look weary. "But I will speak to you later, cousin." He smiled at her, as he left her standing outside of Ecthellion. "It is good to see you!"

"And you!" Lothiriel called after him, waving. She smiled to herself. She felt a bit better, as another one of her favorite people in this world joined them in the City.

The feeling was short lived, however. High, high above, so high that none saw them, the shrieks of the Winged Riders could be heard, and she felt her hands tremble...
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The sun was low in the sky when Lothiriel saw her uncle and brothers leaving the Steward's Hall, Imrahil with a grim look to his face. Edemer saw her, and came to join her as she looked out from the foot of Ecthellion. She shivered.

"Can you hear it?" She asked in a small voice. Edemer frowned. "Hear what?"

"Nothing..." She mumbled, "So, how do things go inside?" Edemer sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"They go...by the Valar, Lothy, but Denethor is a hardheaded one!" He glared, "Imrahil is very courteous with him, but I know the man irks him. I can see it in his eyes..." He smirked, "And I think Denethor knows it. His eye gives the ever so slightest twitch whenever Uncle speaks...as if he's waiting for Imrahil to draw his sword on him."

"He never speaks of it..." Lothiriel said quietly, "But Deliann has said that he loved his elder sister Finduilas very much. He mourned for weeks when he heard of her death."

"Yes, I remember." Edemer replied, idly watching the horizon. Lothiriel eyed his profile...he looked so much like their father. "I'm proud of before personal grudge." He smirked again, "Must be that cold bit of elf-blood that still drifts about in our veins."

"Well, I wish I had a bit more of it then." Lothiriel commented, glancing up at the clouds again. "I as well." Edemer nodded, "I was ready to rise and strike Denethor for the way he spoke to Faramir in there. He always preferred Boromir over him."

"Another family member who seems to have passed before we ever met him." Lothiriel mumbled. "It's as if we're the ones no one ever speaks of. I wonder how many others aren't aware of our existence?"

"Well, Denethor is now, for certain." Edemer's smirk became a full grin; "I'll never forget the look on his face when we came here...when he saw you. He went pale as a ghost." He looked at his sister, "Maybe you should go in there for the talks of plans of attack. He'd more then likely break into a cold sweat having you there, looking like Finduilas...only, a Finduilas who wouldn't sit to be shouted at."

"I'd rather not."

"Ah well..." Edemer sighed, backing away. "The sun sets. I think I'll take some rest..." He looked to see if anyone was about to hear him, then smiled at her. "Try to smile, little sister. The battle hasn't begun yet."

As he walked away, Lothiriel just looked at the sky. The battle hadn't begun, but her nightmares had begun to come true...
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It was a sunny day on the shores, when she met her cousin. She had to look up...a ways up. He was tall, of a same height as Edemer and Imrahir.

"Well, you must be Lothiriel." He said, and Lothiriel wondered at the tears that seemed to be in his eyes. She decided to just smile.

"It's nice to meet you, cousin Faramir." She tipped her head. Later, her aunt would tell her of how much Lothy resembled her mother, who in turn looked much like her sister, Finduilas. That their blood had the touch of Elven-kind in it, and though she would have the frame of the daughter of Eodier, she would still forever have the face of her mother's people. "How old are you, Princess?" He asked

"Eleven, going on twelve, cousin."

"Your brother tells me you're quite the little sword's maiden." His eyes twinkled, and she couldn't suppress a grin.

"He lies..." She replied, "I'm the best sword's maiden."

"It's always good to be honest then!" He laughed aloud, taking her hand and walking along the shore. "Let's you and I go back to the Halls, that I may see you prove your title...."

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"Lothy!"

Lothiriel's eyes flew open at the urgent whisper. In her room in Ecthellion, she sat up in the semidarkness before dawn, to see Edemer at her doorway. "What's wrong?" She yawned, shivering as her feet hit the cold stone floor.

"Hurry, get dressed and ready." He said, and Lothiriel realized he was already in his armor and fully armed. He looked grim, and yet his eyes held a fire of excitement that only a young man could ever have over such matters. "They're saying Osgiliath will be attacked before this day is over."
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She stood with her uncle's men, in full armor, watching. And trying to be as strong as she knew how, as her cousin mounted in the growing light. His face was as hard as stone, after receiving the cold words of his father. 'That depends on the manner of your return.' It was enough to make Imrahil grasp his reins until his knuckles were white.

After a few quiet words with the wizard Gandalf, however, Faramir's face softened...but only a little. "Whoever is willing may accompany me." He said aloud, to those who waited and watched him nearby. "Though I tell you the truth, it is likely that many shall not return."

Lothiriel saw Imrahil raise his head, and her throat went dry. "My sister-son, I will ride with you, and what men I can spare from the City walls." Faramir looked gratefully upon his uncle. "My thanks, Uncle..."

"Imrahir..." Imrahil turned to his son, "Wait with the rest by the walls. Denethor will send you to our aid should we need it."

"Father..." Imrahir worked at staying calm, but it was obvious he did not like this. "I ask that you let me ride out at your side. I could not do less, it would near kill me."

"But my son..." Imrahil looked on him in that commanding, yet understanding way with which he spoke to his children. "My men must be led by you, you know this."

"Uncle..." Edemer stepped forward, stopping by Imrahil's horse. "If it pleases you, I will lead the men at the walls, that your son might carry your honor at your side." He remembered the ruse then, and smirked a little. "For after all, your daughter carries your command as well."

A slight smile played with the corners of Imrahil's proud mouth as Lothiriel stood a bit taller, but it faded quickly. "You speak wisely, nephew." The Prince tipped his head. "So be it then. Edemer, Lothiriel...you will wait at the walls with my forces for Denethor to send you forth, if need be." At that, Imrahil spared a glance at The Wizard and Faramir. "And he will." 'Or I shall return from my grave to strangle him...' .
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And so, as the sun was on the rise over Minas Tirith, so was the promise of the blackest days to come. Faramir went forth, with those few who would be spared, toward Osgiliath.

Many looked to Edemer now that he was in a place of some power, and as he was fair-haired the soldiers of The White City seemed to think he could tell them where the Rohirrim were. Why had they not come? Were they even on the way? Had word reached Edoras? They did not seem to realize that he'd not set foot in Rohan for nearly eight years, and certainly had no idea.

From her place, mounted on Bela by the gates, Lothiriel could see, far-off, a slow blackness creeping up the River Anduin. "So few of us..." She whispered to herself, drawing on the strength of her father's spirit. "Send them soon..." She prayed, to whoever was listening, her heart pleading that her family be spared, even as her mind was set for whatever would come.

"Oh please, let them come soon..."
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