Author's Note: I've got a surprise POV in this chapter. Not a mystery one, you'll guess who it is pretty quickly (It's an OC- don't expect something too familiar.).

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The Corsairs were busy on their ships, working the sails, rowing and preparing their weapons for when they arrived at Gondor. Just then, a voice called out: "You will go no further!" The captain of the ship with a clear view of the shoreline. Standing about fifty feet off were six people- Two men, two dwarves, and what appeared to be two elves. The speaker was a man with a sword rested against his shoulder. "You will not enter Gondor," he said.

The ships that heard this roared with laughter. The captain moved to the side of the ship, and looked directly at the man. "Who are you to deny us passage?" On shore, Aragorn kept his eyes locked on the captain, but he muttered:

"Legolas, fire a warning shot past the bosun's ear." Legolas pulled an arrow from his quiver and aimed.

"Mind your aim," Gimli said. He pulled out his axe and gave Legolas' bow a little knock. The bow sang as Legolas let go of the arrow- and it hit a Corsair in the heart, killing him almost instantly.

Legolas, Aragorn, Elegost, Hadhod and Idrial all gave Gimli simmering looks. Gimli winced, and then said in an unsure voice: "Ah-that's it. Right. We warned you. Prepare to be boarded!" The ships roared with laughter once more, and the captain choked,

"Boarded? By you and whose army?" He called.

"Interesting choice of words," Idrial murmured. Aragorn gave a small, humorless smile.

"This army," He whispered. The Dead King came charging out of the wall, went straight through Aragorn, and went for the ship, his soldiers behind him. They did not sink in the water, nor did they float- it was as though they were running across a completely smooth surface. The laughter of the Corsairs died almost instantly, and were replaced by the last screams they would ever scream.

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The army heading to Minas Tirith was camped out a good several leagues away from the city, resting before the actual battle. Eomer came riding into the camp with two other soldiers, one holding the flag of Rohan. "The scouts report that Minas Tirith is surrounded," He reported. "The lower level's in flames. Everywhere, legions of the enemy advance."

Berethor felt his heart stop at those words. His family lived on the second level from the ground. Were they alive? Or had they been cut down by Orcs? Berethor pictured his two sisters, now sixteen year olds, and his brother, about twenty-eight. And then his mother and father… Berethor began to feel sick, and he sat down on a stone. Morwen, seeing his distress, sat down next to him and put an arm around his shoulders.

"Time is against us," Theodan said. "Make ready!" He called to the troops. A little ways away, Eowyn had removed her helmet and was getting a bit of air, Merry and Eaoden nearby. Eaoden had indeed noticed that he was in the presence of the White Lady of Rohan, but made no comment of it.

"Take heart, Merry," She said to the Hobbit. "It will soon be over."

"My Lady," Merry said. "You are fair and brave…and have much to live for. And many who love you. I know it is too late to turn aside. I know there is not much point know in hoping. If I were a knight of Rohan, capable of great deeds… but I'm not. I'm a Hobbit. And I know I can't save Middle-Earth. I just want to help my friends." Eaoden and Eowyn both regarded the Hobbit sympathetically.

"Frodo," The Hobbit recounted with a smile. "Sam. Pippin. More than anything, I wish I could see them again."

"And so you shall, Master Meriadoc," Eaoden said, grasping Merry's shoulder in a friendly way. "And so you shall."

"Prepare to move out!" Came Eomer's call.

"Make haste!" Theodan added. "We ride through the night!" A soldier blew the Horn of Rohan as the soldiers scrambled to pick themselves up. Together, Eaoden, Eowyn and Merry replaced their helmets.

"To battle," Eowyn said. Eaoden and Merry nodded.

"To battle," The chorused.

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Adelaide shrieked as another boulder came pelting towards the citadel. The trolls in the Pelennor fields had been setting them off all night, but miraculously, none of them had ever landed anywhere near her. But her luck had finally run out. Adelaide ran for her life down a flight of stone steps to the main walkway, just as the boulder hit the spot where she had been standing.

Bits of debris from the now ruined building hit Adelaide's back, though none were big enough to truly harm her. Below, she could feel the trolls and the Orcs slamming that terrible 'Grog' thing into the main gates of the city. She could hear soldiers yelling, and another man crying out: "Back to the gates! Defend the gates!" She knew his name well. Gandalf the White, or Grey, as Adelaide had always known him as.

Cautiously, Adelaide picked herself up and went to the wall. The lower level of Minas Tirith was up in flames, and there were scattered fires all around from where flame-tipped arrows had hit. She was on the fourth level of the city, far from the Orcs, but she was still frightened. Adelaide could not find her family. Her mother and twin sister was missing, and her father and brother were defending the gates.

Adelaide's other brother, Berethor, was out on a quest set on him by Lord Denethor. Oh, she wished he were there. Berethor was so calm and orderly; he would have kept their family together someplace safe. Adelaide wanted to sit against the wall and rest, but knew that it could mean her death if she did. Maybe, she thought, it would be safer on the seventh level. The catapults could not throw the boulders that high, and it looked safest up there.

Sliding away from the wall, Adelaide ran for the steps that led to the highest level of the city. She counted them off in her head as she approached, and finally, she found herself staring at a green and white courtyard with the dead, white tree in the middle of it. Farther off, she saw a small figure standing in front of the wall. From his size, Adelaide first thought it was a child. But he then turned around and she saw he was no child- just a small man.

He looked at her. "Hello," He said.

"Hello," Adelaide responded breathlessly.

"What are you doing up here?" He asked in a curious voice that was tinged with worry.

"I thought it would be safe up here," She explained. "I've been unable to find my family, you see." The man nodded.

"It is safer up here," He said. "But it's not a very good view." Adelaide smiled softly, and joined him at the wall. "What's your name?" He asked.

"Adelaide. And yours?"

"Peregrin Took. But you may call me Pippin." Just then, there was a noise and both Pippin and Adelaide turned around. Coming from the castle was Lord Denethor. Behind him were six men carrying a board… with Faramir, Denethor's son on it. Adelaide gasped.

"Lord Faramir is dead?" She asked. Pippin looked alarmed.

"No," He said, "He isn't!"

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(Author's note: I really don't want to have to elaborate what happens after that. You already know.)