Dear readers,

I hope you enjoy this part. It has been a very, very long time since I last wrote (in general). I suddenly found the motivation to do so. Mainly because I got messages from you, dear readers, to please continue the story. So, after some planning (it's been a very busy year) and some plotting I will present to you this chapter.
I hope you, my dear reader, haven't abandoned me yet. And I thank you for sticking with me and the story.

Let me know what you think!
Enjoy!

- Hopjesvla

I do not own Lord of the Rings, nor it's characters or places. I've only created Mÿne.

For two days they had travelled the lands before them. They only stopped to eat and to get a small rest. Time was weighing heavily on their shoulders. During their journey they didn't talk much. Gandalf explained some places occasionally to Pippin, who had never crossed these lands before. Mÿne only spoke when needed. Her mind was clouded with regret and anger. Legolas was the centre of it. Why had he been so mad at her? Did he fear for her? And was he right in doing so? Mÿne pondered hard on these questions the past days, but an answer didn't came. Maybe she had been too harsh at him. She recalled everything she had said to him and her heart stung every time she did. The look on his face was one she wouldn't forget so easily. His gaze had been as cold as ice. It had pierced right through her and she felt guilty. Sadly, there was no way back now. She was on her way to Minas Tirith, and he was back at Edoras. Three days travel from one place to the other. She figured she might see him in a week or so... Or rather she hoped. Gandalf hadn't talked to them about his plan at all. For all she knew they were going to that city, warn them, maybe help out the tactics...and go back? Go somewhere else? She wasn't sure but if this is what she could do to help Boromir's people, then she did the right thing. To her, that was all that counted right now.

"We've just passed into the realm of Gondor." Gandalf announced. His voice was loud to overrule the rushing winds besides them. They had crossed grassy hills, forests, rocky and stony plains. By every mile the landscape seemed to change, but Mÿne had to admit that the landscape of Gondor was maybe the most beautiful she had ever witnessed. It had trees, grassy grounds and small hills. White rocks appeared beneath them, as if sprouted from the ground. And when they climbed a large hill with their horses, the city came into view. Mÿne had been here before once, but she had been young and seeing the city did not recall any significant memories to her. It was a large city, build with many different levels, leading to the top. It was build against a mountain, made out of the same white stone they had encountered before. The city seemed to reflect the small sun rays that fell upon it.

"Minas Tirith. City of Kings." Gandalf said as he pointed towards it.

Behind it, in the far distant, when she squeezed her eyes almost shut, Mÿne could see a ring of dark rock. A massive wall of black stone. Above it swirled dark clouds, with a glint of orange lightning in it. Mordor, home of the dark lord Sauron. Funny how such a city of light and hope could exist across a land of darkness and death. The sight of it alone gave Mÿne chills down her spine.

They crossed the plains before them and made way to the large gate in front of the city. When the soldiers at watch saw them coming, the gate opened. Gandalf led the way while he rode through it, into the city. He shouted warnings as they passed people. Merchants, bakers, soldiers, women and children. It appeared to Mÿne Minas Tirith had many soldiers, far more than Edoras had. They rode to the top of the city, passing many gates of the different levels.

"Make way!" Gandalf shouted at a group of women before them. They quickly scurried around the corner to clear their path. They rushed past them and rode up the stairs to the Citadel. There they quickly dismounted their horses and looked around them. Immediately a stable boy came to take care of their horses and he led them away. Mÿne looked at the stone courtyard stretched out before them. Only small patches of grass grew here, beside the feet of guards with shiny helmets with feathers on it.

"It's the tree, Gandalf." Pippin said as he gazed at a white, dead, lonesome tree before them.

"Yes, the White Tree of Gondor. The tree of the King." Gandalf said solemnly. He gazed at it before he crossed the courtyard. Mÿne and Pippin followed him hastily.

"Lord Denethor is not a King, however. He is only a steward. A caretaker of the Throne." and Mÿne sensed some tension in Gandalfs voice. They came to the steps that lead to massive black doors. Two of the same feathered guards stood there. They gazed forward, ignoring their presence. Gandalf hesitated for a moment and stopped to look at his companions.

"Listen carefully now: Denethor is Boromir's father. To give him news of his sons death would be most unwise." he said sternly and he looked at the both of them. Mÿne swallowed hard.

"And do not mention Frodo, or the Ring." Gandalf added. Mÿne nodded, understandingly. Boromir had to had his behaviour from someone...And he was so eager to bring the Ring to Gondor, it was possible his father had given him the command to do so... Gandalf turned around and was ready to enter through the doors when he stopped again.

"And do not speak of Aragorn either." he mused to them, with a stern look at Mÿne. "In fact, it may be better to not speak at all." and now he turned his gaze to Pippin. Mÿne could manage to hold in her chuckle. It was a wise thing indeed. Gandalf nodded to the guards and they opened the doors for them. They stepped into a light, white hall. Pillars were erected from the smooth marble floor to a ceiling that was made of gold, decorated with stars and white blossoms. Sunlight streamed through the small open windows into the Hall. A huge stair at the back of the hall lead to a throne made of wood and stone. And before it sat a man, engulfed in layers of dark cloaks and clothes. He was hunched over and seemed to hold something.

"Heil, Denethor, son of Ecthelion, Lord and Steward of Gondor!" Gandalf said and his voice echoed through the stone Hall. "I come here with tidings in this dark hour...and with counsel."

The hunched figure, Lord Denethor, looked up to them and with shock Mÿne saw what he was holding. A horn of Gondor, split in two. Boromir's horn. She swallowed again and averted her gaze through the marble floor. A guilty feeling washed over her.

"Perhaps you've come to explain this." Lord Denethor said, his voice in a hoarse state. His eyes were full of accusation, grief and pain. "Perhaps you've come to explain why my son is dead."

Mÿne dared to look up to the man. It was strange, she didn't see anything in his face that could resemble Boromir. He looked so different than him. Denethor had a face of a hard man, pale and stern. His face was folded into a frown and the corner of his lips were downwards. Mÿne looked at the horn again, so strange familiar to her. In a flash she saw how Boromir had stood and fight. Their small conversations, their small jokes and stories by the fire. Mÿne felt a lump in her throat, making her unable to speak, even if she wanted to. She clenched her fists to stop them from trembling. Something brushed past her as she tried to stop the memory of Boromir. It was Pippin and he was kneeling in front of the man.

"Boromir died to save us, my friend and kinsman and me."and he glanced at Mÿne for a second. Gandalf sighed behind them, irritated.

"I offer you my service, such as it is, in payment of his death." Pippin added as he looked at the father of their dead friend. Mÿne doubted. Should she do the same? She weighed the pros and cons for a moment and decided not to follow Pippin. Her heart and guilt laid with the City and the people, not Boromir's father. Especially when he looked so...disgusted with their visit.

Lord Denethor did indeed not really seemed excited about Pippin's offer.

"Then this is my first command to you: how did you escape and my son did not? So mighty as a man he was." and he frowned at Pippin.

He seemed to struggle with words. It was no easy matter to explain ones death, especially in face of his father.

"The mightiest man may be slain by one arrow. Boromir was slain by many." Pippin answered finally. Mÿne cringed on the inside. Worst. Answer. Ever. Gandalf seemed to think so too and he shoved Pippin aside with his staff.

"Get up." he muttered angrily. He looked up to Denethor and his stern-looking face.

"Milord, there will be a time to grieve for Boromir, but it is not now. War is coming. The enemy is on your doorstep! As Steward, you're charged with the defence of this City. Where are Gondor's armies?"

Lord Denethor looked at him like he was some stain on his robe. His face changed to one that fitted an orc better, or so Mÿne thought. But Denethor did not answer.

"You are not alone in this fight. Send out word to Rohan. Light the beacons!" Gandalf pressed, his face full of expectation. Denethor seemed to clench his jaw and his eyes shot fire.

"You think you are wise, Mithrandir." he sneered, and Mÿne did not like the tone he was using. "Yet for all your knowledge, you have no wisdom. Do you think the eyes of the White Towers are blind? I have seen more than you know..." Mÿne watched the expression of Gandalf change to a frown.

"With your left hand you would use me as a shield. With your right you seek to get rid of me. I know who rides with Théoden of Rohan."

Mÿne held in her breath. He knew! He knew already of Aragorn!

"Oh, yes." Lord Denethor said scornful, "Words have reached me of this Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and I tell you now: I will not bow to this Ranger from the North. Last of a ragged house long drifted from lordship!" and Denethor laid his flaming eyes on Mÿne. She froze in her place, unable to move.

"Yes, I'm talking about your kin." he sneered. "Good for nothing, roaming around in the North like a group of waifs and strays!"

Mÿne frowned deeply at him, offended. She decided to shut her mouth and give him no more reason to threaten her. And she was glad Gandalf answered for her.

"Authority is not given to you to deny the return of the King, Steward!" he spat.

Lord Denethor rose from his chair and towered over them, his face twisted in rage.

"The rule of Gondor is mine! And no other's!"

With a twirl of his robe Gandalf turned around, having enough of it all. Mÿne followed him, not wanting to look at this pathetic version of a Steward any more. Pippin trailed behind her, his footsteps padding on the marble stone floor.

Outside Gandalf was muttering to himself, angry at the Steward. In her whole life Mÿne hadn't seen Gandalf as mad as he was now.

"A thousand years this city has stood. Now, at the whim of a madman it will fall. The White Tree, the tree of the King, will never bloom again." Gandalf spat as he crossed the stone courtyard of the upper level.

"Then, why are they still guarding it?" Pippin asked, his voice shrunk to a small tone. He pointed to the guards with the feathered helmets, gathered around the dead white tree.

"Because they still have hope." Gandalf answered, "A faint and fading hope that one day it will flower. A King will come, and this city will be as it once was, before it fell into decay."

"It fell into decay?" Mÿne asked, she'd never heard of this story. Not even from Aragorn. "How could that be?"

"The old wisdom borne out of the West was forsaken. Kings made tombs more splendid than the houses of the living, and counted the old names of their forefathers dearer than the names of their sons. Childless lords sat in aged Halls musing on the past, or in high cold towers asking questions of the stars. And so the people of Gondor fell into ruin. The line of Kings failed and the White Tree withered. The rule of Gondor was given to lesser men." Gandalf told them, his voice spatting 'lesser men'.

"Men like Denethor." Mÿne said, understanding.

They came to the end of the upper level, a ledge that hung over the city. It's view was spectacular. First the lower levels of the city. Then the fields of Pelennor, forests of Ithilien, the mountains around them, and in the far distant...

"Mordor." Pippin stated as he laid his eyes on the dark walls of stone. Thunder rumbled in the clouds gathering above them and Mÿne pulled her cloak around her. Not that she felt cold, she just felt uncomfortable...as if someone was watching her...

"Yes, there it lies." Gandalf said as he rested on his staff. "This city has dwelled ever in the sight of its shadow."

They stood there for a while, silent as they watched and thought.

"Dark clouds are gathering..." Mÿne murmered while she eyed the weather far away before them. It would reach them nonetheless.

"A storm, I say..." Pippin said as he stood on his toes to examine the clouds too.

"No." Gandalf said as he eyed it too, suspicious. "This is not weather of this world. It is a making of Sauron. He is giving his troops an advantage by sending the sun away. The orcs hold no love for sunlight, you see... When the shadow of Mordor hit these walls, it will begin."

"What will begin?" Pippin said.

"War, my dear hobbit."

Mÿne eyed the clouds intensively. It would determine their amount of time to get help, to prepare this city. The clouds were slow, luckily. Dark and thick, but very slow.

"Well...Minas Tirith." Pippin said, with a small smile on his face, "Very impressive. Where are we going next?"

Mÿne smiled sadly at him as Gandalf answered his question.

"Oh no, Peregrin Took. It's too late for that. Help must come to us."

The quarters they were given in the building were fairly nice and big, even for unwanted guests. Mÿne walked around her room and admired the furniture and art decorations. She placed her small bag with her belongings on her huge bed and walked over to the balcony that confined her room and gazed upon the city. It was so large, and busy. Gandalf had given her time to rest, but Mÿne thought she could go to the city instead. She wanted to see the people, still ignorant of the danger that awaited them.
She poured herself a cup of water before leaving. She gulped it down and quickly washed her face. She looked into the mirror above the stone bowl and sighed. She looked tired, puffy-eyed and pale. Mÿne dried her face with a cloth and threw it on the chair next to the bowl. She walked out of her room and looked down the big hallway. It was made of white stone, dark blue curtains at the open windows and a blue carpet spread across the marble floor. She nodded to the servants passing by and walked down the steps leading to the front door.

The air outside smelled fresh. A small breeze stroke her cheeks as she walked across the courtyard of stone. Her eyes lingered on the building of the Steward. She still hadn't forgotten lord Denethors' angry face and the tone he'd used. A chill went over her spine as she thought back to his dark eyes, full of hatred and somehow despair. The fact that they slept in the building next to his wasn't comfortable either. The thought of the eyes of the Steward on her night and day darkened her mood. He'd be able to watch them. What had he said? 'Do you think the Eyes of the White Tower are blind?' There was something behind it. A wary feeling crept over Mÿne and she quickly stepped away from the shadow the Stewards Building had cast upon the bright white courtyard.

Mÿne returned just before supper. At her room she quickly washed her face and hands, and put on a clean shirt she brought with her. She walked down the hallway to find Gandalf and Pippin waiting for her in the dining room. Even though they used the time before supper to rest, they still seemed tired. Gandalf poured her some wine as Mÿne dug into the food before her.

"Well, what have you been up to this afternoon? Speak up." Gandalf asked as he sat back.

"I have been exploring the city. I have never been here before. It is beautiful!" Mÿne said as she cut her meat into big pieces. Up until now she hadn't noticed, but she was really hungry.

"Have you seen any good pubs?" Pippin asked hopefully.

Mÿne shrugged, "Some seemed well enough to me."

"Good, I really long for a good ale and stories!" Pippin sighed as he stuffed his mouth with food.

He excused himself after supper. He wanted to seek out the pubs Mÿne described to him. She stayed behind with Gandalf, smoking last of her weed.

"I was hoping to find someone special here, but it seems it was in vain." Gandalf muttered.

"Who? If you don't mind me asking..." Mÿne said as she looked at the old wizard.

"I was looking for Faramir, Captain of Gondor." and his eyes twinkled gently.

"Faramir..." Mÿne tasted the name on her tongue. She'd heard it before but as she thought deeply she could not picture the face it belonged to. Apparently she had a puzzled look on her face for Gandalf answered her question.

"He's Boromir's brother...the only son Denethor has left now..."

Mÿne felt her chest tighten.
"He's here then?" she asked, "Boromir told me he is a ranger..."
"He still is. He has taken over Boromir's duty of being the Captain of Gondor when he went away." Gandalf said.

Mÿne nodded, "I hope he comes back soon. We need all the counsel we can muster."
"That is true, I fear. And I secretly hope he will change his fathers mind." Gandalf added while he poured them another cup of wine, "We need to send out a call for aid."

"Why not riders? They can carry your message to King Théoden. Surely he will listen to the circumstances."
"No, my dear, it's too late for riders now. We rode three days, but we rode very swift. A messenger will not. No, we need to light the beacons."

That peaked her interest, "Beacons?"

"Why yes, a way to send out a call for aid, faster than any rider. The beacons are on the peaks of the Ered Nimrais. It's a chain that ends near Edoras."

"And when they see it? Is there a chain back?"

"...No. We must be patient and arm ourselves the best we can." Gandalf said, and a shadow of worry crept over his face.

"You think King Théoden will not answer it..." Mÿne guessed. She frowned and swirled the ale in her cup. Gandalf only shrug, but Mÿne could read his answer in his eyes. And it wasn't positive.

Mÿne slept badly that night. She worried about the fate of the city, about her own fate. They could arm themselves with the best they had, as Gandalf said, but that wouldn't be enough. She could feel it in her heart. This was Sauron, merciless and hateful, who was planning an attack to wipe them out, all of them!
When sleep finally came to her, she could only dream of dead bodies, fire and pain. A world full of darkness and hurt. And there was no way to escape it.

Around noon, a messenger came. He knocked gently on the door of their dining hall.
"Yes?" Gandalf asked as he put down his piece of bread.

"Mithrandir, I carry an urgent message." the boy said. He didn't look older than fourteen and, from what Mÿne had seen in the city, probably came from the first level. His shaggy black hair fell over his eyes and he seemed nervous.

"Well, speak up then." Gandalf said impatiently.
"My lord, Lord Faramir is on his way back..." the boy said, and he sighed for a moment.

Gandalf smiled softly, "Good. I've been waiting for him."
Mÿne eyed the boy again, there was something uneasy about him. Not just nervousness, but reluctance.

"That's not all...is it?" Mÿne asked as she raised her eyebrows to the boy.

"N-No my lord, my lady." the boy said stuttering. "There is more... Osgiliath has fallen."

Gandalf's face paled and he stood up from his chair.

"We need to get to the gate." he muttered and Mÿne quickly followed him.

On the way to the stables they picked up Pippin from the courtyard. Gandalf took him by the shoulder and hauled him on Shadowfax.

"Where are we going?" Pippin asked a bit frightened. "I thought you said we couldn't leave this place."

"We can't." Gandalf confirmed. He pulled himself behind Pippin and waited for Mÿne. She quickly grabbed Hasufel's hairs and climbed on the horse. She had been riding bare back before, besides, in a matter of haste you cannot saddle your horse. Not now.

"Then, where are we going?" Pippin said as Gandalf rode his horse out of the stables.

"To the gate." Mÿne said as she caught up with them. "Faramir's coming back."

"And he might need some help..." Gandalf muttered darkly.

Turned out they did. The guards opened the gates for Gandalf and Pippin to ride out to the field. Mÿne was told to stay in the courtyard with the other people. She had protested, but Gandalf had been stern. So she waited. But it took a long time and the people on top of the gate were gasping and whispering with each other. Mÿne climbed off Hasufel and ran up the stairs to the walls with the gate. Now she could see something and she was glad Gandalf hadn't take her with her.

The Nazgûl were riding on winged creatures, as large as a clock tower. They leapt through the air and would occasionally grab claws full of horseriders. It was a game to them. But they were far away and Mÿne could barely see Gandalf in the distant. Suddenly he shot some light from his staff that scared away the Nazgûl and the riders were able to ride to the gate. Around her Mÿne heard people sigh relieved. Mÿne had to hang over the wall to see the riders and Gandalf ride through the gate and she quickly turned around. She rushed from the stairs and looked for him in the crowd. The men that had returned from Osgiliath seemed severely wounded. Some were attended to immediately, but others had to wait. Mÿne walked around the crowd and eyed Shadowfax. She ran up to them.

"Gandalf! That was amazing!"
Gandalf turned towards her and smiled softly, but his eyes were serious and stern.

"What were those things?" Pippin stammered. His eyes were huge and he looked pale.

"Fell beasts... Creatures from the Dark. The Nazgûl use them to attack big cities, like Osgiliath. Fortunately they hate light..." Gandalf said as he patted Pippin reassuringly on his shoulder.

"Mithrandir!" someone shouted at them.

They turned around and two men emerged from the crowd. One with ranger gear on and shaggy red-brown hair, and a soldier in armour. His face was hidden beneath his helmet, but friendly eyes were looking at them.

The man in ranger outfit had Mÿne's interest. He looked so much like Boromir, only slender and younger. She could not help to stare at him as he stared at Pippin for a couple of seconds. It was not common for men from Gondor to see a Hobbit. But this was not a curious look in the man's eyes, it was one of reckoning.

"This is not the first Hobbit you've seen." Mÿne said as broke her gaze.

He shook his head.

"You've seen Frodo?" Pippin asked eagerly.

The man nodded.

"Tell us everything!" Gandalf said, smiling broadly. "When? Where?"

"Not now. These matters come first." the man said, "Mithrandir, they have crossed the river and taken Osgiliath. They're with too many. We could not hold it."

Gandalf's stern look returned, "We must discuss this."

"Not here." the man nodded to the upper level. "Follow me to my chambers."

At the upper level Faramir led them to a solemn stone room. It was empty except for a large wooden table, four chairs and a small table with cups.

Faramir closed the door behind them and looked at them.

"The situation is far more worse then I had hoped..." he started. "With Osgiliath fallen, the enemy has free passage to Minas Tirith."

Mÿne sighed. She crossed her arms and leaned on one of the windowsills.

"It's good you've come, Mithrandir..."

"Yes, but I cannot stop a whole army." Gandalf retorted.

"And Théoden? Will he come?"

It was Gandalf's turn to sigh now. "I don't know, Faramir. I honestly don't know if he will. He's stubborn...and proud."

"But he has sense of honor." Faramir said. It fell quiet for a moment, everyone thinking about the possibility of King Théoden and his choice.

"Have the beacons be lit?" The other man asked. Mÿne remembered her conversation with Gandalf the other day. She eyed the man. His helmet was still on and his face remained hidden.

"No. Not yet." Gandalf said.

"Then that's the first thing we need to do. The sooner, the better." Faramir concluded.

"Your father won't be happy about that." said the man. His voice sounded like a warning.

"I know..."
"What about Frodo?" Pippin said as he tugged at Faramir's cape. "When have you seen him? Is he allright? And Sam?"

Faramir nodded. "Not two days ago. They were accompanied by Gollum."

Mÿne shot a look at Faramir. He was not lying. Mÿne thought about Gollum and his history with the Ring.

"That cannot be good." she muttered.

"You don't know that. Something tells me he has still his part to play, Mÿne."

What did that mean?

"Mithrandir, they have gone east. They're taking the pass to Cirith Ungol."

Gandalfs face paled. "Cirith Ungol?"

"What's Cirith Ungol?" Mÿne and Pippin asked at the same time.

"A bad road." Gandalf muttered. "Near it lies Minas Morgul, the city of the Nazgûl."

Mÿne swallowed. If Frodo got caught... And what about his chest wound? The one he got at Wheathertop? It would surely give him pain...

"But Frodo is out of our hands...for now at least. We got our own matters to discuss right now."

Faramir had to leave them, he needed to talk with his father about his loss on Osgiliath. Pippin also left to report for his offered services. Mÿne, Gandalf and the man with the helmet talked about the defences of the city. The man with the helmet, Mÿne soon learned, was called Beregond. Faramir's right hand, closest friend and First Captain of the White Company; Faramirs guard. Beregond provided them with a map of the city and pointed out some weaknesses.

"Our forces have thinned greatly with the battle for Osgiliath... I doubt we have enough men..."

"We won Helm's Deep with less men..." Mÿne said as she eyed the map. "Plus, you have catapults.. a lot."

"I think this will be a whole different army than Helm's Deep, Mÿne..." Gandalf said, "Sauron is at work here, not his puppet. If he destroys Minas Tirith, nothing will stand in his way to take over the Free Lands... We are their last hope. Sauron will unleash his greatest army yet, I fear."
That discouraged Mÿne a lot. Helms Deep had been difficult enough.

"In any case we should lighten the beacons. Today." Beregond continued, "If the chain will continue, the sign will reach Edoras tomorrow."

Tomorrow... Mÿne felt that took too long. But they couldn't send out riders. This was their only way.