Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I just play in their world.
The city of Minas Tirith was nothing more than a small gleaming beacon from the tops of the dark mountains of Mordor. The white walls of the citadel shone brilliantly in the high sun, and from his vantage point, the orc could almost see the repairs being done to the walls if he squinted. Behind him, legions of remaining orcs waited for the signal to attack.
In the few short months since the ending of the war of the ring, Mordor's forces had been hunted down and destroyed by the armies of Gondor and Rohan. Sauron's presence no longer haunted the land of shadow, but his loyal soldiers were bent upon exacting revenge upon the peoples of Gondor for the fall of their master.
At the base of the mountains, the town of Osgiliath sat perched upon the Anduin. Though his comrades had tried and failed to seize the city permanently, the scarred and disfigured orc Morg had every intention of capturing the city once and for all.
The orcs waited patiently until night descended upon the Pelannor. With a raised hand, he signaled to his minions, who, with a silence unnatural for orcs, crept down the mountains and into the valley below. When they came to the edge of the river, they slipped onto wooden planks laced together to form makeshift rafts. They crossed the river under the cover of darkness, and when they landed along the other side of the riverbank, they stole away from the river and along the same route their predecessors had taken mere months before.
This close, Morg could see the lighted torches along the paths of Osgiliath. He could see the faint outlines of guards and sentrys, and with an uprised hand, he signaled to halt. The legions stopped, their only sound a slight clinking of armor and the occasional heavy grunt. Morg turned to quietly address his fighters in a rough gravely voice.
"Leave no one alive. Kill the children and the mothers. It is time for Mordor's revenge." He raised his own sword, and turned to run at full speed towards the ravaged city, giving a mighty battle cry.
The other followed.
Celrinn entered the room and her husband glanced up from his desk curiously. He watched as she poured herself a glass of wine and sipped at it half-heartedly. She moved to sit in the chair beside his stone desk, and he released the parchment he was reading.
"You seem upset, dear."
She fixed her husband with a sharp look, warning him without words. He took one of her hands in his and kissed it. Her hard eyes took on a more feminine look as she watched the loving gesture. It was only with her husband that she could once more be the young carefree woman she had been in her youth. He was the only one capable of bringing out the loving woman she had hidden deep inside her ambitious exterior.
"They have accepted her. I have lost."
Belredd sighed. "You have lost nothing, my sweet. In fact, you had nothing to ever gain." She looked at him, a hurt expression marring her features.
"Our daughter could have been queen. She was bred for a good marriage. There is no hope for her, now." Celrinn rubbed her eyes roughly. "I have failed as her mother."
Belredd rose from his seat to stand before his wife. "You have not failed. Belrinn was raised well, maybe even better than others. You have been a wonderful mother, Celrinn. But it was not for our daughter to be queen. She will marry well, you will see. She is beautiful and good-natured, kind to a fault. You should hear some of the things the young noblemen of this city say of our little one." He placed a comforting hand on his wife's shoulder. "She will be well-matched, but she will never be a queen."
A tear slid down Celrinn's cheek.
Belredd smiled wistfully. "Besides, wife, would you seal our daughter's hand in marriage to a man she did not love? What would you have felt if your father had forced you into wedlock with another?" He kneeled before her, her hands in his.
She smiled fully now, the reincarnation of the love struck girl she had been years before. She met her husband's eyes. "I would have been miserable. Luckily for me, you were of a better family."
Belredd smiled as he kissed her knuckles. "No, love. It was lucky for me that you were a beautiful young thing, and my foolish father approved the match based solely on that."
She stood and embraced her husband. He kissed her hair and held her close.
"However, love, perhaps you should accept the queen."
She pulled away and looked into his eyes.
"I shall try."
He grinned. "Than that is enough."
Aragorn sat at his desk, his tired eyes struggling to focus in the dim candlelight. He lifted the quill and signed another parchment, noting the ink stains marring his calloused fingertips. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms and legs, wincing as he heard joint crack.
"I do believe it's time for sleep", he murmured. He stood and rolled his neck, sighing. He walked to the door, but as he reached to open it, it swung open and Faramir raced in with Legolas and Gimli, their expressions grim and angry.
Aragorn immediately noticed the panic movements of the Steward, and his instincts told him nothing good could come of this intrusion.
"What is the matter? Something has happened." He stared at Faramir, barely noticing the arrival of Elrond, Gandalf and the four hobbits.
"We are under attack. Osgiliath has been seized upon by at least 500 hundred orcs. They are slaughtering all they encounter."
Elrond's eyes narrowed. He turned to his foster son. "They are bent on revenge. They will not let Sauron's defeat go unavenged." He turned to Aragorn. "You must stop them, Estel, or the people of Osgiliath will be killed and Minas Tirith subject to another threat."
Aragorn nodded, grabbing Anduril from its place by his desk. He strapped the sword about his hips as he fled the room, followed by the others. The guards along the corridors stood to attention as he ran past, and when Aragorn came upon the captain of the guard, he grabbed the man's arm.
"Alert your men, captain. Gondor is under attack. Round them and meet me in ten minutes. We ride for Osgiliath."
Wide eyed, the captain nodded, and set about gathering all the guards he could.
Aragorn raced to his chambers, Legolas and the others right behind. He burst through the doors and headed straight for his wardrobe. Pulling the metal chest plate from its drawer he immediately set about attaching it to his tunic. Frodo, Sam, Pippen and Merry set about gathering Aragorn's other bits of armor, laying it upon the table for the king to grab as he went.
Arwen, Eowyn and Galadriel entered the room, Arwen's eyes hazy with confusion as she spied her father and friends standing in the middle of the bedchamber she shared with her husband.
"What is going on? Estel, why are you…" She did not finish her sentence as the captain of the guard entered the room.
"I have gathered 200 palace guards, your majesty, and another 600 men await us at the gates of the citadel." The man's face was red and sweaty, and a pang of panic rushed through Arwen's heart.
Eowyn, sensing the danger, crossed the room and embraced Faramir, hugging him tightly as he spoke softly in her ear. Arwen cast a nervous glance at her grandmother, but Galadriel's face was a mask of indiscernible emotion. She looked back once more at her husband, taking in the sight of him in his battle armor, and her throat constricted.
"Estel!" Her voice rose above the voices of the men, and the fright in her voice caused her husband's head to snap up from his dressing. He held her eyes and felt his heart break at the fear and confusion he saw there. He crossed the room in three long strides and pulled her tightly against his chest. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her quickly and hard. Her heart beat furiously against his chest, and he looked into her eyes deeply.
"I must leave you now, Meleth. Osgiliath is under attack, and I must lead my men against the forces of Mordor. You will be well protected here, love." He kissed her once more on the forehead and released her. He cast one final look at his wife and rushed from the room with the others. Arwen ran after him, the captain of the guard at her heels.
"Let me fight with you, Estel! Estel! Wait!" She lifted the hem of her gown and raced down the hall after her husband. "Aragorn!"
He swung around and grabbed her with his strong hands before she pummeled his back. "Arwen, please. Stay here. I could not fight if I knew you were in danger." He released her and she stood immobile, her eyes sparkling with tears. He sighed and pressed his forehead against her own.
"I will return to you, Arwen", he whispered. "Nothing will keep me from you." He kissed her deeply, stealing her breath. For a lingering moment nothing existed but his lips and his breath and his mouth, and Arwen's eyes fell shut in a silent prayer to the Valar to return her beloved husband to her before morning's light. And then he was gone, and Arwen stood alone watching her husband leave her for battle.
Elrond came to stand beside his daughter, an arm wrapped tightly about her shoulders. He felt her shake with nervous tremors, and she rested her head upon his shoulder.
"So soon, Ada. It is too soon for him to be taken from me." Her voice was so quiet she was barely audible.
Elrond shut his eyes tightly against the worry in his own heart. Instead of answering his daughter, he simply held her closer.
Belredd stared out the window overlooking the street below. Celrinn had retired to bed only a few minutes before, and Belredd was considering joining her when the shout went up throughout the city, catching his attention.
"Osgiliath is under attack! All able-bodied men report to the gates of the citadel armed for battle! All men report! We are under attack!"
Belredd watched the guards racing through the city streets. He ran to his own bedchamber and threw his wardrobe open. Reaching inside, he drew out his armor and sword.
Celrinn sat up and watched in confusion as her husband readied himself. Staring at his armored torso, she pushed herself from the bed and rushed to his side.
"Belredd, what is happening? What are you doing?"
Belredd did not meet her eyes as he continued dressing. "The city is under attack, love. All men have been called to report. I must go." He strapped his sword to his back and put on his heavy leather gloves.
"Belredd, you cannot! You are far too old to join in the battle! Let the younger men fight!" Her voice rose in panic and fright, and she clutched at his arm. He wrapped his hand around her fingers and firmly moved them away from his arm. His dark eyes held a light of love, but she knew the look upon his face well. There was no stopping him when he was truly (though infrequently) inspired. He ran a finger down her cheek.
"It is not your place to forbid me from the battle, wife. I love you, but I will not be swayed. Please understand that. I am a man of Gondor. This is my duty."
With that he left the bedchamber. Celrinn followed him, pulling her robe tightly about her small frame. In the hall Belrinn stood quietly, staring out an open window. When she saw her parents, she snapped to attention.
"Papa, what is going on? I heard the call for the men. Who could be attacking us?"
Belredd paused to hug his daughter.
"See to your mother, Belrinn. She will need you now." He kissed his daughter's forehead and with one final look at his wife, he left.
The two women clung together, listening quietly to the sound of marching footsteps and clinking metal.
Brego galloped down the seven levels of the citadel, Aragorn perched upon his back, a stern and uneasy look upon his handsome face. Women and children bowed as he passed through the warm night air, awake and alerted to the danger just outide the walls of the city.
Men stood ready before the closed gates leading beyond the city. Their weapons drawn, they waited for their king anxiously.
Belredd sat upon his horse, listening to the sounds of the night. He gazed upwards, watching the stars twinkle in the inky black sky. A brilliant flash of light across the sky passed over his head, and with the passing of the shooting star, Belredd felt an uneasiness settle upon his shoulders. He looked behind him at the level above his head. From his position he could see the roof of his house, and he issued a silent prayer for his family.
The king appeared then, authoritative and impressive, followed by the blond elf and the dwarf, and the old wizard Belredd had seen at the king's wedding. Aragorn passed him by and acknowledged the older lord with a grateful nod of his head, and then the mighty gate opened and they raced from the safety of the citadel into the night and Osgiliath.