Smoke Rises

The next morning came without sun or its rays, rather as a cloud of brown sweeping over the city. All spirits sank to a low and with the cries of the Nazgûl's steeds heard faintly in the air, it seemed they would stay so low with so many weeping, quailing and filled with dread.

Faramir was sent again with men, and with him, Boromir went also. So many thought this a cruel deed of Denethor, to send his sons out again, when they had barely returned from impending peril. Demi was stricken with fear for the life of her closet friend and his brother, doubt on her mind that either would return. Doubt that any of the men would indeed return.

"If you go, which I know I cannot sway you from doing, go with caution, you will be greatly outnumbered." She said, holding Boromir close to her, tears welling in her eyes.

"I will remember that, my dear Demi. But fear not, I will return to you! With my honour as my word I will return to you." He said, and then climbed upon his steed beside his younger brother.

"Farewell Lady Vaira for now. Watch for our return. I know now that at least a welcomed and loving return shall be greeted by at least one." Faramir said.

"No, not only one, but all, your people, your father. You are a hero, strong and brave, whether you see this or not. Goodbye!" Demi said, then Boromir sounded the host of Gondor to ride to the River. "Denethor has lost his mind…sending his sons to a battle they cannot win…when Rohan are so far away yet. Who knows when they will get here?"

"If indeed they arrive at all." Beregond said, appearing at Demi's side.

"They will. I know they will. My friends ride amongst that company. They will get here." Demi said, more so trying to convince herself. She was starting to despair. Hope was truly slipping past them.


At night news arrived from a man, ridding hard from the Fords.

"A host has been issued from Minas Morgul, drawing nigh into Osgiliath, joined by regiments from the south. The Haradrim ride with them. We also have learned that the Black Captain leads them once again, and the fear of him has passed before him over the River." The messenger said breathlessly.

Boromir, Faramir and their men truly were in over their heads.


By the fourth day since Gandalf and his charges had come to Minas Tirith, this day had dawned darker than before, with the sky black, weaving heavy on all hearts. It had come to their knowledge that the passage of the Anduin had been won by the enemy. Boromir, Faramir and their men were retreating from the wall, rallying towards the Causeway Forts, and outnumbered ten to one.

"They have been blessed to get so far and further than imagined possible, paying dearly for their crossing. Floats and barges have been built by the enemy, and with those they are moving their forces by way of the river." The messenger told Gandalf.

Demi sat and listened on, her heart heavy as all, but a fire was burning inside of her. She felt idle to sit back and wait a doomed return of those men. She had to do something, but it was worthless, as so many were taken to stopping such action.

"Then I am needed there more than here," Gandalf said, standing and looking about the room, his eyes falling upon Demi. "I think though, that I do not ride alone."

"No, you certainly will not!" she said, getting to her feet and following the wizard.

She followed him to the stables were they ready their horses and took off at full flight.

"I hope you know what you are doing!" Gandalf called to Demi as they raced through the night.

"I hope you have a plan!" she countered.


Pippin was alone the next darkened morning, on the wall staring out into the horizon. He saw fires springing to life where the walls of Pelennor stood. He could hear the men shout.

"They have taken the wall! They are coming!" they would shout.

"Where is Boromir and Faramir?" Beregond asked in alarm.

It was Gandalf that brought such words to the white city to Denethor directly.

"Are my sons come? Do they ride back hither?" Denethor asked with great concern.

"No. They stay with the rear guard, trying to hold their men together long enough. But for that I hold strong doubt. The Lady Vairarista fights with them. She was most unwilling to have a change of mind. The are pitted though against a foe too great." Gandalf said.

"The…the dark lord has come?" Pippin asked with fear, knowing that his friends were fighting against the impossible.

"No…not yet my hobbit ally…not until my place has been supplanted by his forces. Why should I sit in my tower and think, watching and waiting alone… spending my sons? I can still wield my sword!" Denethor said, standing up, tossing aside his cloak to reveal himself clad in mail. A long sword was strapped to his side and he stood tall, as a reminder of his younger days. "Thus I have walked and this now for many years have I slept, for fear that with great age the body should yield and retire."

"Yet now under the lord of Barad-dûr the most fell of all his captains is already master of your outer walls. The King of Angmar, now the Lord of the Nazgûl, holds such ranks, the spear in the hand of Sauron…shadow of despair." Gandalf said.

"Then Pilgrim grey, you had a foe to match your own. Is that all you returned to tell me, that of which I knew? Or is it that you have withdrawn because you are overmatched…that you know that this is a fight you cannot win." Denethor said slyly.

Gandalf's temper was steadily rising, but he held his composure. He had to, at this time when Gondor needed a leader, not a dictator drawing nigh on madness.

"It might be so," the wizard said softly. "But our trial of strength has not yet come. And if words spoken of old be true, not by the hand of a man shall the minion of Sauron fall. I know not what doom awaits him, though regardless what wisdom you seem to believe you know he drives his slaves in madness on before." He said with a glint in his eye. "Nay, I came chiefly to say this; soon there will be a battle on the fields. A foray must be ready. Let it be mounted men. In them lies a hope, brief but ever still a hope, for the enemy has few horsemen."

"And you believe we have many! We have few also Mithrandir! Now would the coming of Rohan be ever needed sorely in time, for such time is passing us by." Denethor said, pacing back and forth before the throne.

"We are likely to see others come forth first to Gondor's aid. Fugitives from Cair Andros have already reached us. The isle has fallen. Another army has come from Mordor, crossing from the north-east." Gandalf said, standing tall and grim.

"Such news I knew before nightfall yesterday…and prior thought I have given to this sortie…so let it be! Let us go down." Denethor said.


Demi arms were heaving in protest as she blocked a blow against the blade of the enemy. The orc pushed against her with all his might, slamming her into the ruins of a wall, yet coming at her still.

"I will enjoy tasting your flesh when your life I have taken!" he spat through plaque ridden almost black teeth, brining his head up to hers, their noses almost toughing.

"I hope you indeed on flossing at some point!" she said, trying not to gag at his breath, as an arrow whizzed towards her, striking the orc in the back, piercing with a sickening sound the monsters body. It fell heavily on her. She pushed it off and saw a frantic Faramir racing towards her.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine, thank you." She said, with a faint smile as she brushed a wayward hair out of her mouth.

"Stay close. Boromir will kill me if anything horrible would become of you." He said, taking her gently by the arm as they ran through the debris to where the men where retreating, of which a third had been lost.

As they ran, Nazgûl swept down towards them. It was a terrifying sight to behold. Carnage littered the ground and stained the hearts of men. They ducked and fell out of the way, loosing weapons and lives here and there.

A trumpet then sounded from the Citadel, whilst the sortie was released, a group of mounted men heading forth into the melee. The charged on with a great shout and one that was answered by those upon the walls. Those in the front rode under the banner of Dol Amroth, their Prince holding the first line in rank, his blue banner flying in the wind above their heads. They broke upon the fray on either flank of the retreat, yet it was Shadowfax that outrode them all with the White Rider born by him.

The Nazgûl left the clash of arms and the host of Mordor scattered, still putting a fight up to the enemies they encountered. Being towards the back of those fleeing to safety; Demi, Faramir and Boromir came upon such troubles.


AE: Ok, well thanks to my only reviewer Levanna for making the effort each and every chapter to make a review. As far as I know, she's the only one actually reading this. Prove me wrong people, coz I am seriously thinking of dropping this fic.

Levanna: Thanks a million times over for your support, it means so much to me. I hope things calm down for you, it must really suck to be put in a position like that. Sorry about the typos etc. I think I need a beta reader. Any takers? Lol. Thanks again for your encouragement. I couldn't do this without you.