Hey, here is another chapter. Sorry about the delay, my computer decided it didn't like Microsoft Word anymore, and it took me awhile to get a hold of the story. Please R/R, we hope you are enjoying the story. We don't own any of the characters, they belong to Tolkien, Homer, whoever wrote Gladiator.

--

The day was mournful. Faramir walked alone in the garden contemplating the battle and the days that lay ahead. He was glad he had made peace with Eowyn, he did not like to fight with her and after almost dying he wanted to be at peace with her forever.

He looked around; the large city had never felt so empty. The King was dead. He imagined it was hard for the future King who did not really understand death. He walked along the rows of plants that had been recently planted. He smiled at the work of Samwise Gamgee. While the other two hobbits had been concerning themselves with war and food, Samwise had been planting flowers all over the city. He smiled, and stopped to observe two plants. They were under a tree, and Faramir bent to look at them better. He took a glance up at the tree though; there were few trees in Minas Tirith's gardens.

"Are you an elf?" He asked. He had not realized it before, but someone was sitting in the tree looking at him.

The person laughed, "No Father."

"Well then, why are you there?"

"Father, please be quiet, I don't want to be found!" Elboron pleaded.

Faramir laughed, and grabbed one of the branches. Knowing that Eowyn would not appreciate him doing this, he lifted himself easily into the tree and sat down on one of the branches next to his son. He realized that this was a wonderful hiding spot, the leaves were thick, and one could not see unless they were standing directly under the tree.

"Avoiding lessons again?" Faramir smiled knowingly.

"I want to learn sword fighting Father!" Elboron told him. "It's boring, studying from books. I'm going to a Captain of Gondor, I don't need books!"

"How much you sound like your Uncle Borormir!" Faramir sighed and shook his head. "Your Uncle though knew the importance of learning, but that didn't make him want to learn it anyway. Captains of Gondor need to be smart, and need to be able to read and write! Many of our war strategies come from the past, from the greatest warriors in Gondorian history. I am afraid son, that you need these lessons to be a Captain of Gondor."

"Sh!" Elboron's eyes grew wide as he heard a man's voice calling his name from the garden below.

Father and son looked down to see a man walking in the gardens calling, "Elboron! Elboron!"

They looked at each other, and Faramir smiled, though he stayed quiet. Elboron's tutor moved on to another part of the city.

"That was close," Elboron was enjoying his little adventure.

"It was, if he had found us, your mother would have found out and then I would be the one in trouble," Faramir told his son.

"Though speaking as a father, you should not be climbing trees!"

"Why?"

"Its dangerous, and you could fall," Faramir told him.

"I'm not afraid!"

Faramir laughed, "I do not doubt that."

"Father, did you like studying? My tutor said you did."

"Yes, I did, Elboron. I spent most of my childhood in the library," said Faramir.

"Why?" Elboron looked amazed that anyone would spend time in a library.

"I find books as interesting as much as your Uncle Boromir loved fighting. I hope you learn to appreciate both."

--

Legolas walked slowly into the large stone room. It was dark and the only light came from a high window, which shone down and illuminated the body of his dead father. As he approached the sarcophagus of the Great Thranduil, he admired his father's face, which appeared younger and more beautiful than in life. It was almost as if he had merely closed his eyes for a moment, and would soon wake. Yet he would not wake, he would never wake. He knelt down before him and softly whispered an ancient elvish prayer. Upon opening his eyes, he saw a shadow and realized that Gimli had knelt down beside him. They knelt there, silently, for a long time, until at last, Legolas spoke and his voice was full of grief.

"I finally understand you mortals. I have lived for so many years never experiencing death or tasting the bitterness of mortality. Yet now I have, and now I truly understand its burden. All my life I have been immortal, invulnerable. I had never truly loved or truly hated, truly rejoiced or truly despaired. Never before had I known what it was to be alive until I joined the fellowship. Interesting that I learned so much about what it is to live from those who spend such a short time in this world. With the fellowship, I felt both great love, and now, deep despair. Aragorn is dead. Even though I knew that he was mortal and that whether by the sword or the slow decay of time he would indeed die, I never in my heart believed it. I could never have thought that so great a man could indeed perish, that such a beacon of hope could be snuffed out in an instant. Yes, I now know what it is to be mortal, the pain, the suffering. My father, my dear father, who was to me the center of the world, the epitome of the eternal, and stable, is no longer. He should be here now. He should have returned home to Mirkwood in glory as always. But now he shall never again see the beauty of the sunrise over the Misty Mountains, or talk to the trees and watch as their leaves fall to the earth, dead and lifeless. He should not have died. Now my world has come crashing down. I have lost two men whom I loved, one as a father, the other as a brother, and both I shall sorely miss. Death, cruel death has slayed the greatest of our time."

Gimli looked over at his companion and he could see the suffering is his eyes. It caused him great pain knowing that his greatest friend was suffering and there was nothing, which he could do to ease his pain. He had known Legolas for many years now, and this was the first time he had seen him in such despair.

"Legolas, both Aragorn and your father died nobly. They died defending those they love and they will never be forgotten. They will be images of the greatness of the kings of old in glory undimmed before the breaking of the world. They did not die in vain and through their great sacrifices this world will finally know peace."

"Will it Gimli, will it? Will we ever know peace in this world? There is so much death, so much pain. Look at my father's face and you shall see that he is at peace. Is that the only way to peace, through death? If so, then what are we holding on to, remaining in such a world?"

"No, my dear Legolas, there is good in this world, and it's worth fighting for. We shall see happier days. You shall see the sunrise and the leaves fall back home in Mirkwood, and then you shall remember your father. Perhaps someday you may see him, across the sea, far away. But not yet, not yet. You still have so much to do, to be. We shall fight and we shall be victorious, because I still have hope that if we join together evil cannot possibly endure."

Legolas got up and looked around. It was so dark and cold there. "Will you walk with me Gimli? My heart is in need of light."

Gimli got up too, and together the two friends walked out of the room and out of the city. They walked in silence, and Legolas took deep breaths, taking in the cool air. So much had happened in the short time he had been back in Minas Tirith. Legolas and Gimli approached Anduin River where it flowed to the sea. Legolas stopped and looked, his eyes never leaving the water.

"The sea is calling me home," Legolas had his arms folded over his chest, and his eyes gazed out at the river. "The clear blue water is calling to me."

"Not yet laddie... not yet," Gimli looked up at him. He looked out at the river. "There is work for you to do here yet." His concern was growing for his friend, he could not leave Middle Earth, not yet, and not without him.

"I wish to build a ship and sail down the river toward the sea. I see their faces... and hear their voices. They are waiting for me by the shores of the Havens. As I walk through the forests thinking of them, they walk with me, and they speak to me, and even now I hear their voices and they say, 'Welcome brother.'. They wish for me to join them, there is peace there, and no war," Legolas took a step forward. He never blinked as he looked out at the river. "Peace."

"One day my friend, but until that day, we will be together, working toward peace. We will help others not experience the pain and suffering of war. You will meet your father and the elves you once knew one day, but today is not your day."

"My dear friend, you have such hope. You have indeed lightened my heart in this dark hour. Let us take our leave of here, tomorrow brings a great council, of all who remain to determine this world we will in. Perhaps with the union of all the peoples of Middle Earth we shall indeed conquer this great evil."

--

It was strange for the three hobbits to be walking around Minas Tirith together. Usually someone else was with them, or it was not all three of them. The world though was mourning, and the hobbits could not just sit inside.

"It's been eleven years since the ring was destroyed," Pippin told the other two hobbits as they walked down the street in the great white city.

At the mention of the ring, Sam stopped walking. The memories of the War of the Ring haunted Sam, and only he and Frodo knew what dangers they had faced. Sam and Frodo never mentioned their adventures to anyone, not even Gandalf. It was their secret, their dark past that would always be with them, and of which they didn't want anyone else to be frightened with.

"Mr. Frodo... I shouldn't have left him!" Sam said weakly. "He needs me."

"He will be fine Sam, don't worry. Rosie is watching him," Merry stopped walking too. He turned around and tried to comfort Sam.

"But he never feels well on this day. He needs me... he needs his Samwise."

"Sam listen to me," Merry put a hand on his shoulder. "You have always been there for Frodo most of your life. No matter what you think though, you cannot always be there for him. He will be fine, he is good hands. No matter what evils he sees in his mind, and what memories haunt him, he is safe in the Shire around those who love him."

"He needs me though."

"He has you, Sam. He knows that even now you are watching over him. By fighting here, you are protecting the Shire, and Bag End."

"You didn't see him though on Mount Doom, he was so weak. He had put everything into destroying that ring, his whole being. By the end he was crawling, he couldn't even stand. I never saw any hobbit so brave and determined. You never saw him then; he was stripped of everything, and all he knew, all he thought, just to get rid of that ring. He would have died without me, and I swore to myself that no matter what, I would never leave him. I swore as I held him in my arms that I would never let go."

"You haven't betrayed your promise," Merry told him. "We fight for Frodo, the Shire, Buckland, Tookborough and all the lands that are between here and the Shire. By fighting, you are protecting him. Never fear."

The three hobbits continued to walk, each with their mind on different people and different times, but with the same thought of protecting those they loved.

--

Paris stood outside under the stars, facing the courtyard wall with his bow and a few arrows by his side. He picked up one of the arrows, put it in the bow, and lifted it up. With all his concentration at the dummy that he had put up on the wall, he let the arrow go with a loud grunt. He watched as it soared to the dummy and hit it right in the torso area. There on the dummy were already three arrows all in the area of the torso. He lifted another arrow and repeated the exercise. He did this repeatedly until an amused voice interrupted him.

"What are you doing?" Hector asked as he walked toward his brother laughing slightly. He was shirtless, and with a robe over his bare shoulders. The robe however was opened, as it was a warm evening.

"Laugh all you want," Paris snapped not turning to his brother. Who was dressed similar, "I find nothing funny about this though."

"What ails you brother?" Hector asked sitting down on a bench.

"Everything, this place, the people, you, you laughing," Paris lifted another arrow and released it to the target.

"I? What have I done?" asked Hector.

Paris threw his bow to the ground. He looked up at the stars and then at Hector, "Your first real war and you handle yourself fine. No one needed to die for you; you could handle your own battles! Me? I can't even do that. I was not ready for what we faced, I'm not like you."

Hector stood up and went over to his brother; "Do you not think I was shaking inside? That I was not fearful? That I am some kind of hero? I was more nervous than you could tell my brother."

"No one died for you though," Paris lowered his head. "I didn't know him, I had barely had two words with him, and just like that he gave up his life for me. Just like that. Without a thought. Why?"

"Do not question his motives," Hector told him. He placed a hand on his shoulder, "Honor him and his decision. Ask yourself if you are that willing. It takes a brave man to do that, it takes an honorable man."

Hector sighed and turned his back to Paris. He gazed at the stone white walls and the courtyard that they were in. He turned back to Paris; "Do you not feel out of place here, brother? This great city, so many great people here, don't you try to fathom their lives? I have, and I cannot figure them out. They are all so brave, so willing to fight for peace, and even the smallest are experienced in war. We are in the presence of heroes. They know the ultimate sacrifice, they know what war is."

"The smallest hobbit could kill me in a second. Someone who is half my size, has double the amount of talent in battle. Does that not make you ashamed of me?" Paris asked his brother.

"Paris you are young, and the world is before you. Take each day and learn from it, and always aim to improve. You question one man's choice to die for another and that is fine. Today I saw many men give their lives for their country without questioning. Men challenged a demon, a godlike figure without asking why. They did for their country. Would you not do the same?"

Paris didn't answer right away. He picked up his bow again and examined it, "I don't know. I wish I could answer you in a heartbeat. I wish I could say yes, yes of course, I would. However, I was frightened by the battle, and I do not want to be in that situation again. But yet, I am ashamed, I am a man, my place is out there fighting, yet I am a coward."

"A coward would not be able to admit that. Everyone is afraid Paris, everyone is terrified of what is to come. But what separates men from cowards is how they battle their fears. Do they let it overcome them, overpower them so they flee inside themselves, or does love over take them and they fight for what they believe in? Find that within yourself and you will earn the respect of those around you. You will become who you wish to be. Never be afraid, my brother, to question yourself, if you don't then you have become a coward. When you stop questioning and looking at yourself, you have become too afraid to face the answers of the questions you should be asking."

"I want to fight like you and Faramir," Paris admitted.

"Not all men are born warriors. Some are scholars, some are lovers. But you practice, and you face your fears and control them, you can be both. Be at peace, my brother, do not let guilt overcome you. You are young, and have much time to grow into the man you will become. Honor the man who died for you, fight for him, fight your country, and fight for yourself."

Hector looked at his brother, who was still holding the bow and examining it. He sighed, and then spoke, "You know, I spoke with Father before coming here. He was concerned about your willingness to come. You are young, the world is before you, and you jumped at the opportunity to fight. Why?"

"We just fought a battle and now you ask why?" Paris joked but turned his back to his brother and walked away. He stopped though, "I suppose I am like all young men, wanting their first taste at war. Were you not the same?"

"To a lesser degree."

"Do you want to know the real reason I came?" Paris turned to face Hector. "All my life I've lived in your shadow. You are the first born, you reap the glory, this is the way of the world. But have I ever complained brother? Have I ever asked you for anything?"

"No."

"I thought by coming here I could gain the one thing I have not. I want to be like you, I'm just the second born, no one expects much out of me. I don't care about that though, I don't need anyone to be proud of me...except you. I came here hoping to make you proud of me."

Hector had walked up to his brother as Paris spoke. Hector gripped his shoulder comfortingly, "You will."

"Thank you my brother. You have comforted me," Paris hugged Hector tightly.

"Then get some sleep. Who knows what the morning will bring," Hector hugged him back.