Only a few days later, they were at, they were at the first gate of Minis Tirith. As if carved from the mountain, the White City gleamed high above them, every wall and window polished and shone. It was made of seven levels and each level was surrounded by a fence. Climbing high, Men made their own mountain among the end of the mountain range.

The guards stopped them at the first gate and could even get into the City. Gandalf looked indignantly down at them from atop Shadowfax. 'I have traveled here many times before. You know I have the knowledge of all the passwords, now make way.'

Yet still, they barred the way. 'Yea, truly, we know you, Mithrandir,' said the leader of the guards, 'and you know the pass-words of the Seven Gates and are free to go forward. But we do not know your companions.' With this he gave a dubious look to Anna and the small bundle in front of Gandalf. 'We wish for no strangers unless they be mighty men of arms in whose faith and help we can trust.'

Anna humphed at this and shot a look with crossed arms to Gandalf. She did not endure the pain of holding reins in broken and injured hands to sit outside the gates and be called a rat again.

Gandalf addressed Anna's presence first since she was the one awake enough to hear what was said. 'I will bring them both to Denethor and prove their worth. Anna, right here, has combated Saruman alone whereas this Halfling before me has faced many a foe that would make Men twice his size quiver with inaction while he stood valiantly and fought.'

Now fully awake, Pippin started and shifted in his seat. 'Do not let this old man fool you. I have done nothing more than what would be expected of someone put in my position.'

'Many a good-doer has said nothing more,' the soldier commented contemplatively. He regarded the hobbit as higher than himself because he called a great wizard and advisor an old man.

'And yet you treat us like unwanted beggars at you doorstep,' Anna spat at them. 'Even beggars with their backs toward red evil would be allowed admittance if only to gain slight protection. We ask only--'

'To see your king. Let him judge Mithrandir and his friends,' Gandalf interrupted giving Anna a warning look which she shrugged off. The soldiers too a last speculative look at the girl and then back at Gandalf, a hero they had been waiting for to pick them out of the tension of prewar preparations. They opened the gates and were let through all the way to the Citadel. On the way there, Gandalf spoke to Anna without letting passerby know they were talking. 'Next time, I advise you to hold your tongue,' he muttered under his breath. 'They king may not be so easily convinced after you spew more of your unorthodox theories. Remember, also, the Steward can see what is passing in the minds of men, even of those that dwell far off. It is difficult to deceive him, and dangerous to try.'

Anna stayed her tongue and her fingers as they walked past two guards across the last gate, their mithril helms shining as brightly as the rest of the white city. 'The same with you, Pippin. It is bad enough to bring the king news of his deceased heir. Do not speak overmuch of the Company you have traveled with or the coming of the one who will, if he comes, claim the kingship.'

'Kingship?' Pippin asked in his usual dazed and confused way.

'Yes,' said Gandalf. 'If you have walked all these days with closed ears and mind asleep, wake up now!' He then rapped on the door with his staff.

'Strider,' Anna whispered for Pippin to realize. She had often heard Sam call the man by that name.

The doors opened and the hall seemed void of any presence except for the stone statues lined on either side of them. Looking at them and being reminded of the Arganoth statues, Anna could just imagine the stories Aragorn would have to tell about each of their life histories.

Gandalf led the way down the stone hall and at the end was seen a huge throne though without any king in its seat. On its side, a smaller, less adorned seat held a bent man. Not frail or outrageously old, but bent over a broken horn in his lap filled with grief. Gandalf was subtly reminded of the King of Rohan, Theoden. Both had lost sons, both had lost heirs. They were both straining with the weight of time, having to pull through a bit further for lack of heirs to the throne. Gandalf could just imagine the loving and miserable company created if the two men met.

'Gandalf Stormcrow. Now I know the end is near and the war is upon us,' Denethor spoke, standing and placing the broken horn on his throne.

'Truly, for I have ridden on the wings of the storm,' Gandalf replied. 'I bring to you two of my companions. This is Anna of the Barrow Downs,' he introduced as she tried vainly to curtsy for the Steward and hide her face. The sadness upon her visage would stir anger and pride in the king for she saw a great man, broken just before they got there. His shrewd, clever eyes would catch it though, after his moment of wonder. 'She is also called Wanderlust,' Gandalf added.

'So, she is not dead. And the legends, they are one in the same,' the Steward said, contemplatively. 'You do look how they describe you, give or take a few years of stretching the tales.' However, he instantly dismissed her from his view and asked, 'Who is this one?'

'A hobbit. The guards out back called me a Halfling. My name is Peregrin Took, and he gave a low bow, though his eyes went right back to the horn. 'That looks much like the horn of Boromir.' With that, he and Denethor wrapped themselves in a conversation of the son and his brave deeds and valiant fall. The Steward sent for a table, chairs and food and they all sat listening to the useless conversation of the past. Anna ate hungrily, learning she could not say anything if her mouth was full. Gandalf brooded at Denethor's side, quite forgotten by the Steward.

Anna could hear Gandalf's impatience in his exhales and waiting muscles. She gave him a tentative look but only in time t see him jump on Denethor. 'Confound it, you keep on talking about the past, the future shadow will soon be upon you.'

'Certainly,' Denethor said coldly. 'We must get down to business. Tell me what news you bring us of the disaster that is to come. I would be surprised if you knowledge is anything new to me.'

At the word knowledge, Anna was reminded of the conversations with Gandalf as they traveled to Minis Tirith. She could picture the dark cave of a room just below them filled with the information she had been yearning for ever since she was conscious of her elvish background.

She jumped up from the table. 'I am sorry your lordship but I have heard and know of the thing Gandalf will describe to you. If you allow it, I will be going,' and she took a step to leave, her hand trailing of the table just as Denethor stopped her.

'Where will you be leaving to?' he asked abruptly.

Anna hesitated. 'I have heard that I am a legend in your culture. I wish to read what you have all said about me.' She understood Denethor shrewd look as Gandalf and Pippin just looked on. 'I wish to learn more about myself and my past. I had heard your Treasury holds much knowledge that might help me.'

After a moment of hard eye contact, Denethor let her go. 'Very well, Anna. Be careful with the records of the Wars of Angmar; they may still upset you. Look for references to Tom Bombadil. Tales mention him as the original giver in your life as he gave you to the Men to understand Elves.'

Anna nodded and left, her hair whipping behind her at her quick exit.