Chapter Two

'You're going away?' my brother asked.

'Must you, father?' I enquired.

'Yes, children. Your father is a guard of Gondor. When the enemy attacks he must go and help his comrades, because it is his duty, but more importantly,' here he gave us a significant look, 'because he loves his freedom as much as you do.'

'But you'll come back, won't you? The good side will win?' We chorused.

'Of course.' He said, as if the very idea of losing was ridiculous. 'Of course I will. I am your father.'

Then he told us to stay here unless Gondor's men have retreated over the river, but he said it was highly unlikely, for they have been preparing for a long time and the men are plenty and strong, like he. Briskly he dressed himself in mail, took up his great sword and shield (which my brother has tried on many times), and walked out the door in his large metal boots. He walked down the road, and said back to us: 'Worry not, for hope will triumph over despair!' I never saw him in person again.

My father's friend sat at the table and helped himself to water, then after a short while left us also. My brother began to get very agitated. He looked out the door constantly, as if already seeing my father's return. I, however, prepared to go to the tower.

'I wish to go fight.' He stated simply, and so I stayed. I knew it has been his wish for many months, but I never thought that he would wish to fight during such a siege.

'You are not to fight. Father said we are to stay here.' I said as sternly as I could,

'You will, perhaps, but I am the son of a soldier and am strong enough to face the enemy.' He said proudly. 'Whereas you are my little sister.'

I shook my head. 'We cannot hope to face the enemy, any of them. Do you know who their leader is?'

'Just the Black Captain, so?'

'Just? Just? Brother, have you not listened to father's tales? The Enemy sits in his dark fortress of Minas Morgul,' here an image of the pale citadel flashed in my mind, and I shuddered, for that was what I imagined the fortress was like, 'and he directs his troops with magic so powerful, everyone despairs when faced with such sorcery. I imagine our most powerful can stand it, like our father, but certainly not you.'

'Of course I can stand it. If you won't have hope, then I will.'

'I do have hope. I was merely saying that so you might be aware of what we are up against.'

'So do you think we will win?'

I did not answer, for I did not know what to think and I did not like to make assumptions, nor have false hope. Then I was prevented from answering by two sounds: the clank of metal as my brother tried to take one of the kitchen knives, and the sound of a horse's hooves outside. We both froze, as we heard someone dismount noisily. The rider's shadow was now visible on the wall in front of us. The black-dressed man stepped through our doorway-

My brother jumped out, pointing the knife at the hooded intruder. 'Halt!' he cried courageously.

The man lowered his hood to reveal the baker from Minas Tirith. I sighed in relief. 'What are you doing here?'

He looked at us, and took in the empty room with a sweeping gaze. 'I am here to take you to somewhere safer than this. Your mother is very worried, you must know, and I must escort you away from here.'

At this my brother frowned. 'But my father told us to stay here-'

'He means well.' I interrupted. 'We would love to go with you, Uncle.' I had taken to calling him that after the last trip to the city, during which I had stayed at his shop and learned to bake. Over the years we have become good friends, and he made the most excellent cakes.

'We should not leave here. What if father comes back to find us gone? I will stay here, if you wish to leave with –"Uncle". Little sister, I can defend myself.'

The baker frowned in turn. 'You should come with us nonetheless, for it is getting less and less safe here by the minute. You will be no good for defence.' My brother placed his hands on his hips, his grey eyes stern and akin to my father's, when he was angry.

'I stay.' And that was the last word on the matter.

I went outside into the sunlight with Uncle. There was an enormous black horse tethered there, with numerous bags slung over it. I had never ridden one before, so the baker lifted me up into the saddle before swinging up himself and settling behind me. The horse galloped down the street, in the opposite direction my father had gone, and we were soon out of Osgiliath. I noticed that we were not going towards Minas Tirith, and I asked him about this.

'Gondor is besieged;' he replied, 'and we can no longer remain here. You do not know what will happen if you, yes, you, fall into the Witch-King's wicked hands. You are more important than you can imagine, dear. We are going to somewhere so you may be kept from outside harm.'

At the time I was very confused, but I trusted him. The only time when suspicion stirred was when I asked: 'does my mother know of this?' and hesitantly he replied 'yes.' I felt an inner something telling me that he was lying, like many other times when I listened to my brother insisting he had not been playing with my father's weapons. However, I dismissed this and we rode on silently north. We followed the Great River, and I could see black armies arrayed far away on the other side, already left far behind us, for his horse was very fast.

That night we camped in the woods besides the river, and I was very excited. The baker managed to light a fire with his pieces of flint, so we had warmth as well as the food he brought in his bag. Apparently, he baked some sort of waybread for the journey. I should have been suspicious of this preparation also, but I was not. I asked him how long will we travel.

'For many days, until we have arrived at the land of the Elves of Lórien. We travel close to the river Anduin, so we have no worries of getting lost. Doubtless you will learn many things on this trip, especially at its ending.' He smiled mysteriously.

Elves! They were the fair people I have seen but a few times travelling the roads to Minas Tirith. My father told me that they were very wise, and also friendly, therefore I was mightily glad when the baker mentioned them. I imagined their dwellings more beautiful than anything I have yet seen, and so with that pleasant thought, I slept peacefully that night, not realizing that I had gone back on my dislike of assumptions, and had made a dreadful one myself.

Author's Note: Going to the elves my foot…I wish I can pinch Sayre but unfortunately I can only let her tale wind itself.