A new year and a new chapter. I know I said I wanted this entire story finished at the end of 2019, but that clearly didn't happen. I had to put things on hold for the holiday season, there was no avoiding it. But better late than never, I suppose. I just know I'm having a not so fun time with the timing of all the events in Lord of the Rings, so I am taking some liberties with what all is happening because if I don't I'm going to end up driving myself crazy. I am taking someone's suggestion that if nothing changed from the movies that I don't need to go over it and be switching back and forth between Ricky and the rest of the Fellowship. I'll probably cover it in a future chapter, maybe do a quick summary of what had been happening to those characters up until the point I get back to them. I sort of did that when Merry and Pippin were in Fangorn Forest. But let's move on so you can get to reading the new chapter. Leave me a review of what you think of this chapter and enjoy.

Shadowfax never stopped or slowed all day and through the night. Ricky didn't know a horse could run this fast or long, but Gandalf told her he was one of the Mearas and was more than a mere horse. She actually managed a little sleep on Shadowfax's back by locking her arms around Gandalf.

It was daybreak when Shadowfax crossed through a river that Gandalf announced, "We have just passed into the realm of Gondor."

"I thought you said it would take us three days," Ricky called over the sound of the wind.

"For a normal horse," Gandalf called back.

After riding for a bit longer, they stopped.

"Quick, Ricky, get down," Gandalf ordered.

"What? Why?" asked Ricky as she dismounted.

Gandalf dismounted as well. "You need to change into the clothes you were given. Hurry."

Ricky opened her pack and pulled out a cream colored dress and a light brown sleeveless dress with deep cut sides.

"Gandalf," she growled, demanding an explanation. "What is this?"

"That is a dress and surcoat," Gandalf replied impatiently.

"I know dat, smartass!" snapped Ricky. "Why do you want me to wear a dress?"

"People have a habit of underestimating you," said Gandalf. "You will draw too much attention to yourself dressed as you are."

"Never was a problem before." Ricky shook out the dress and paused. She turned to Gandalf. "You think this could go wrong."

"No doubt Boromir has reached Minas Tirith and told all he knows about the journey," said Gandalf.

"But that's good, right?" asked Pippin.

"Boromir does not rule Minas Tirith," Gandalf told them. "His father, Lord Denethor, is the steward of Gondor. A caretaker of the throne."

"So this could go to complete shit," said Ricky.

"But Boromir is one of us," Pippin said. "He'll help us!"

"It's not up to Boromir if this Denethor controls everythin'," said Ricky. "And you don't think Denethor's gonna help since helpin' means losin' his power, right, Gandalf?"

Pippin frowned. "Lose power?"

"Aragorn's the real king of Gondor," said Ricky. "He takes the throne and Denethor's demoted."

"To put it simply," Gandalf said. "Denethor may try to keep the throne from Aragorn to maintain his power. So if things do not go as planned, you will need to act until Aragorn arrives, Ricky."

"Me?" cried Ricky. "What do you expect me to do?"

"Anything you can to keep Minas Tirith from falling, whether in words or actions. You have shown the Fellowship how resourceful you are, which is precisely why you cannot enter the city as Ricky Weiss, the boy of the Fellowship of the Ring."

"But why can't she?" asked Pippin.

"Because if Boromir told Denethor everythin' then he knows one of the Fellowship is a foreign boy who dresses in strange clothes," said Ricky. "He'd suspect me of somethin'. And it's easier to disguise me than it is you, Pippin. But what if Boromir recognizes me? My cover's blown!"

"It is a risk we must take," said Gandalf. "Let us hope he catches on to why we are calling Erica, daughter of Ellenróf and not Ricky Weiss."

Ricky made a face at hearing her feminine name.

"I know this is not ideal for you," Gandalf started to tell her.

"Yeah, yeah, this isn't the first time I've had to do somethin' I don't like," she interrupted.

Ricky quickly changed into the clothes she was given and put her clothes and daggers into her pack. She left her own boots and her Under Armour leggings on as they would be covered by her dress. They mounted Shadowfax again and continued on to Minas Tirith.

Gandalf drilled her on her cover story. She was Erica, daughter of Ellenróf, and sent by Théoden to act as messenger because all the men had been called to arms. She was responsible for taking any messages Denethor may have to Théoden should she need to. Ricky asked what she was do if that happened as she was a terrible rider. Gandalf assured her if that was the case, he would convince Shadowfax to bear her. Once she had the story down, he went over protocol of how she was to address her superiors.

After riding a bit longer, they stopped on top of a small hill. Ricky looked around Gandalf and saw a large white city built into the mountains. It was surrounded by a circular defensive wall and consisted of seven rising levels. A bastion of natural rock jutted out from the second level and up to the seventh in a wedge shape, bisecting the city. At the very top was a spire that glinted in the daylight.

"Minas Tirith," said Gandalf. "City of Kings."

Ricky let out a whistle. "Now that's a city."

They rode into the city, Gandalf navigating the steep streets up to the seventh level. People hurried to get out of the way of the galloping horse. When they reached the courtyard of the citadel, Ricky dismounted first, followed by Gandalf and then Pippin. Gandalf left the guards to attend to Shadowfax.

Pippin looked at their surroundings as they hurried up the white stone path to the citadel's doors. In the middle of the courtyard was a dead tree with white bark. Four guards surrounded it.

"It's the tree," Pippin whispered. He ran up to Gandalf. "Gandalf! Gandalf!"

"Yes, the White Tree of Gondor," said Gandalf. "The tree of the king."

"That's the tree you saw?" Ricky asked Pippin.

Pippin nodded.

They walked up the steps to the doors and Gandalf stopped.

"Remember," Gandalf said quietly. "Do not mention Frodo . . . or the Ring . . . and say nothing of Aragorn, either. In fact, it's better if you don't speak at all, Peregrin Took. Erica, speak only when spoken to, as difficult as it may be for you."

Ricky raised her brows, but said nothing.

They entered the tower hall. At the far end was a dais with many steps leading up to a large empty throne. On the wall behind it was an image of a flowering tree set with gems. At the foot of the dais, in a small stone chair, was an old man gazing at something in his lap. He was dressed in heavy black robes trimmed with fur.

Ricky felt like this was Denethor. She kept him in her peripheral vision as she glanced around the hall. While the walls and floor were white, the marble pillars were black. Statues of who she assumed were of past kings were tucked between them, the windows letting in light behind them.

They came to stand before the man in the chair.

"Hail Denethor, son of Ecthelion, Lord and Steward of Gondor," Gandalf announced.

Denethor did not move.

Ricky saw what Denethor had in his lap. She had seen it many times before in Boromir's possession.

"I come with tidings in this dark hour and with counsel," said Gandalf.

Denethor slowly looked up at them with cold eyes. "Perhaps you come to explain this?" He held up the horn that Boromir carried with him. It was broken in two. "Perhaps you come to tell me why my son is dead."

Ricky was stunned. Boromir was dead? No, she wouldn't believe it. Aragorn told her he had saved Boromir. She watched him save Théodred and knew how good he was. Unless something else had happened.

She sensed Pippin was about to say something despite being told to stay quiet. From her place behind Pippin, she quickly pinched his back to stop him. Pippin let out a little yip, but it went unnoticed as Gandalf began speaking.

"My lord, 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 are charged with the defense of this city. Where are Gondor's armies?"

Denethor turned to Gandalf.

"You still have friends," Gandalf went on. "You are not alone in this fight. Send word to Théoden of Rohan. Light the beacons."

Denethor smiled like he was amused. "You think you are wise, Mithrandir, yet for all your subtleties you have not wisdom. Do you think the eyes of the White Tower are blind? I have seen more than you know. With your left hand you would use me as a shield against Mordor, and with your right you would seek to supplant me."

Gandalf looked shocked at the accusation.

Denethor narrowed his eyes. "I know who rides with Théoden of Rohan," he said contemptuously. "Oh, yes. Word has reached my ears 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 bereft of lordship."

"Authority is not given you to deny the return of the king – steward!" snapped Gandalf.

"The rule of Gondor is mine and no other's!" Denethor exploded.

Pippin stepped back, horrified, and into Ricky. The teenager put her hand on his shoulder to steady him.

Gandalf looked at Denethor for a moment before turning on his heel to leave. "Come," he told Pippin and Ricky.

"The girl stays!" Denethor ordered. "I wish to speak with her alone."

Ricky looked at Gandalf for guidance. He didn't look very pleased that Denethor had asked her to stay behind. With a gentle push, she sent Pippin to follow Gandalf as she turned back to Denethor.

Ricky knew something was off. Boromir could have told Denethor about Aragorn, but how could Denethor know that Aragorn was riding with Théoden? He must have had spies somewhere in Rohan. Either that or it was a lucky guess. But there was the chance he knew the name Ellenróf – she couldn't use that name.

"What is your name?" Denethor asked.

"Erica, my lord," she answered slowly, making sure her accent was concealed. "They call me Erica Dark-haired."

Denethor was silent for a moment. "What of your family?"

"I am orphaned," said Ricky. Gandalf could be angry with her for deviating from their story, but she didn't care.

"And where are you from?" Denethor asked.

"Edoras is the most recent place I have called home," Ricky said.

"But you have spent time with Elves," said Denethor.

Ricky's eyes widened.

Denethor gestured to her neck. "Your necklace . . . it is Elvish, is it not?"

Ricky grasped the charm between her fingers and looked down at it. "Oh, yes, my lord," she said lightly as if she had forgotten about the necklace.

"Why have you come to Minas Tirith?" Denethor asked.

"For when the beacons are lit," Ricky answered. "I am to carry whatever message you would send to King Théoden."

"So he sends a foreign girl to do what one of his men should," Denethor said with a sneer.

"All the men are preparing for war, my lord," she said quietly.

Denethor gave a grunt of acknowledgement.

Ricky kept herself from looking suspicious. Something was definitely not right here. Denethor no longer appeared to be the grieving father he was when Gandalf and Pippin were in the room.

"Tell me – what happened at Helm's Deep?" Denethor said. "How did the battle go?"

"I know little, my lord," said Ricky. "The women and children were sent to the caves. I know the Elves came to help us."

"What of this Ellenróf boy I have heard of?" Denethor asked.

So he did know that name!

"I know of him, my lord," said Ricky. "I have only seen him once on the journey to Helm's Deep."

"And what do you think of him?" he pressed.

Ricky thought of her next words carefully. "He has earned his name and place for his courageous deeds. He killed a Warg and rider who tried to kill some of the children while the men were in battle with the rest of them."

Denethor hummed. "You are certainly not Rohirrim."

Ricky clenched her jaw. She knew she should have worded that differently.

"And neither is Ellenróf," Denethor went on. His eyes narrowed. "Which makes me wonder if you are yet another pawn in Gandalf's plan to usurp me."

Ricky mentally swore, wondering how she could get herself out of this without blowing her cover. "I have not come to do such a thing."

"Prove it," said Denethor. "Swear an oath of fealty to me."

Ricky stared at Denethor in surprise. Swear an oath of fealty to him?

"I cannot do that, my lord," Ricky said, hoping she sounded regretful as she hung her head. "King Théoden has entrusted me to carry a message if needed when the beacons are lit. I cannot serve two masters."

"The beacons of Gondor will not be lit," Denethor said tersely. "Therefore a messenger is not needed."

"Even so, I have been ordered to stay, my lord," said Ricky.

"Then it appears Théoden has exiled you, girl," said Denethor. "Away with you! Let a father grieve his son in peace."

She gave a quick curtsey, not that Denethor noticed as he returned to looking down at the broken horn, and quickly left the hall. Gandalf and Pippin were waiting on the steps just outside the door.

"If anyone asks, I'm called Erica Dark-haired and don't have any relation to Ellenróf," she told them quietly.

Gandalf looked at her disappointedly. "That is not the story we agreed upon."

"He was askin' me about the 'Ellenróf boy'; he wanted to know about me!" she hissed. She shook her head a little. "Somethin's wrong, Gandalf. There's no way Boromir's dead."

"It is a possibility, but we cannot worry about it now," said Gandalf.

Ricky and Pippin looked at Gandalf as he started walking across the courtyard to towards the tree. They were quick to catch up.

"All had turned to vain ambition," said Gandalf, irritated. "Denethor would use even his grief as a cloak! A thousand years this city has stood and now at the whim of a madman it will fall! And the white tree, the Tree of the King will never bloom again."

"Why are they still guarding it?" Pippin asked, looking at the men in armor surrounding it.

"They guard it because they have hope," answered Gandalf. "A faint and fading hope that one day it will flower. That a king will come and this city will be as it once was before it fell into decay. The old wisdom born out of the West was forsaken. Kings made tombs more splendid than the houses of the living and counted the old names of their descent dearer than the names of their sons."

They walked out onto the parapet, which was the flat top of the protruding rock.

"Childless lords sat in aged halls musing on heraldry or in high, cold towers asking questions of the stars. And so the people of Gondor fell into ruin. The line of kings failed. The white tree withered. The rule of Gondor was given over to lesser men."

The three looked eastward. Black clouds were thick hung over the mountains while a fiery glow rose from behind them.

"Mordor," whispered Pippin.

"Yes, there it lies," said Gandalf. "This city has dwelt ever in the sight of its shadow."

"A storm is coming," said Pippin.

Ricky nodded in agreement, looking at the clouds.

"This is not the weather of the world," Gandalf told them. "This is a device of Sauron's making. A broil of fume he sends ahead of his host. The Orcs of Mordor have no love of daylight, so he covers the face of the sun to ease their passage along the road to war. When the shadow of Mordor reaches this city it will begin."

"Well, Minas Tirith," Pippin said with a little laugh. He looked up at Gandalf. "Very impressive. So where are we off to next?"

"Oh, it's too late for that, Pippin," Gandalf said. "There's no leaving this city. Help must come to us."

"And we're on our own until they get here," Ricky added.

They were given a place in the guest quarters during their stay. Gandalf stood quietly on the room's balcony that overlooked the city. Pippin joined him, leaning on the stone railing.

"It's so quiet," said the Hobbit, looking up at the night sky.

"It's the deep breath before the plunge," said Gandalf.

From her place in a chair, Ricky gave a quiet laugh. "Never heard it put that way before." She got up and walked out onto the balcony. "'The calm before the storm' I've heard a lot."

"An appropriate comparison," Gandalf commented.

"I don't want to be in a battle," said Pippin. "But waiting on the edge of one I can't escape is even worse. Gandalf, is there any hope – for Frodo and Sam?"

"There never was much hope," admitted Gandalf. He gave Pippin a self-deprecating smile when he turned to him. "Just a fool's hope."

"It's still a hope," pointed out Ricky.

The three of them stared out towards the fiery sky over Mordor silently.

"Our enemy is almost ready," Gandalf said grimly, "his full strength gathered. Not only Orcs, but men as well. Legions of Haradrim from the South, mercenaries from the coast . . . All will answer Mordor's call. This will be the end of Gondor as we know it. Here the hammer stroke will fall the hardest. If the river is taken, if the garrison at Osgiliath falls, the last defense of this city will be gone."

"But we have the White Wizard, that's got to count for something," Pippin said, desperately seeking reassurance.

Gandalf looked down at Pippin and said nothing.

"Gandalf?" Pippin asked nervously.

Gandalf stared into the distance again, this time looking like he was seeing something in his mind's eye. "Sauron has yet to release his deadliest servant . . . The one who will lead Mordor's armies in the war, the one they say no living man can kill. The Witch-King of Angmar." He looked down at Pippin. "You've met him before. He stabbed Frodo on Weathertop."

Pippin flinched.

"He is the Lord of the Nazgûl," Gandalf went on. "And Minas Morgul is his lair."

The words were barely out of his mouth when a column of eerie white light shot up from behind the mountains. Thunder roared, shaking the earth. Pippin was in frightened awe while Ricky swore.

"What da fuck is dat?"

Gandalf put his arm around Pippin. "We come to it at last . . . the great battle of our time," he said quietly. "This war is long planned. Sauron has hated The West through many ages . . . It is a hatred that flows from the depths of time, across the deeps of the sea."

The column of light disappeared.

"The board is set, the pieces are moving," Gandalf said to himself.

Ricky heard him. "Den we bettah be damn sure t' make every move count."

The rest of the night was rough for the three of them. Pippin tossed and turned in his sleep while Gandalf sat in a chair. Ricky had tried to sleep in the room she had been given, but got up a couple hours later to rejoin Gandalf and Pippin.

"What next?" she whispered in order to not wake Pippin. "We're here. We're waitin'. What can we do?"

"The beacons must be lit," answered Gandalf.

"And since Denethor's not gonna do it, one of us has to," said Ricky. "I can do it. I just need to know where to go."

"Do not concern yourself with the beacons. I have another task for you," said Gandalf. "I do not believe Boromir is dead either, but I believe him to be here. You must find him. If Denethor will not lift a hand to defend Gondor, then Boromir must take his place."

Ricky smirked. "Denethor was right. You're tryin' to supplant him."

"If he had taken action, this wouldn't be necessary," defended Gandalf. "Unfortunately, Faramir, Boromir's brother, is not here or he could take his father's place."

"Would Faramir go along wit' da plan?" asked Ricky.

"Faramir seeks the approval of his father, but he would do what is right for Gondor," said Gandalf. "He has already proven this by helping Frodo and Sam."

Ricky gave shrug. "Sounds like he's got some brains," she muttered.

Gandalf put his hands on her shoulders. "You must be cunning. No one can suspect what you are doing."

Ricky smirked. "I can do that."

At dawn, Ricky left the guest quarters and began wandering the halls. She encountered a couple guards asking her if they could help her. Ricky just smiled and said she was just exploring the impressive citadel, asking questions about what was down this hallway or whose statue was in an alcove. They would chuckle in reply and comment how grand it was to an outsider who was used to seeing thatched huts and stables. Only one asked how different it was from the Elvish settlements. Clearly talk had gotten around the citadel that the girl travelling with Gandalf and Pippin was not originally from Rohan.

She found the kitchen, following her nose towards the smell of food. The cooks had breakfast out for the maidservants already and they were quickly eating.

"My lady! What are you doing here?" an elderly cook called to her when she was spotted in the doorway.

"I was just exploring," Ricky said innocently.

"I have heard of you," said a young maid. "She came with Mithrandir."

"The girl from Rohan?" asked another.

"I heard she lived with the Elves," said a third.

Ricky listened to the chatter going around the kitchen. "I didn't stay with them very long."

The cook gave Ricky something to eat while the maidservants gathered around her.

"What was it like?"

"Are they as beautiful as the tales?"

"How did you come to live in Rohan?"

Ricky answered all the questions vaguely, giving just enough information to satisfy them. She asked a few questions in return, such as what each maidservant did and how they liked their jobs.

When Ricky had them in a gossip, she asked, "What is Lord Denethor like?"

"He is a good man and a wise leader," said a young maid.

The elderly cook let out a huff. "Wise he was in his younger years, but now I wonder if he has taken leave of his senses."

"Why do you say that?" asked Ricky.

"He has been quick to quick to anger and more withdrawn," said the cook. "One would believe he would be in a better mood since his son has returned."

This caught Ricky's interest.

"Do not speak poorly of Lord Denethor!" scolded a maidservant.

"His son?" Ricky interjected.

"Lord Boromir, his eldest," said the cook.

Ricky's face lit up. So Boromir did make it to Minas Tirith alive. "I have heard Pippin speak of him. They travelled together from Rivendell for a time."

"He returned a few days ago," said a maidservant.

"And no one has seen him since," the cook added.

"I have seen the healer entering his chambers," said another maidservant. "His wounds must be grave."

The cook nodded. "I have seen him come to the kitchens for broth. Meanwhile Lord Denethor locks himself up in the tower," she added bitterly. "One would think he was mourning his son already."

The comment Gandalf made about halls and high cold towers came back to Ricky's mind. It seemed that Denethor preferred the latter.

Before Ricky could find out more information, a maidservant came running into the kitchens screaming, "The beacon is lit! The beacon is lit! Gondor is calling for aid!"

The kitchen quickly emptied out as they ran to see the beacon for themselves. Ricky watched them leave before taking an abandoned plate of food for her breakfast and walking out of the kitchen. She didn't have time to look at the beacons; she had a friend to find.

Ricky didn't get far in her search when she heard that Faramir and the garrison had returned to the city. She swore, remembering what Gandalf said about if the garrison lost Osgiliath. She set the plate down on a statue's base and hurried down to the courtyard.

Gandalf and Pippin were getting off of Shadowfax. Next to them was a man who bore a resemblance to Boromir.

Ricky hurried up to Gandalf. The White Wizard had a stern expression. "What happened?" she asked quietly.

"The Orcs have taken Osgiliath," Gandalf replied.

"Figured that," Ricky responded.

"Frodo and Sam were in Osgiliath two days ago," he added. "Faramir was with them."

Ricky took a second to process that. "That I didn't figure. They okay?"

"They are taking the road to the Morgul Vale and then the Pass of Cirith Ungol," Gandalf continued darkly.

"And that's bad?" Ricky asked slowly.

"It takes them where we saw the light last night," Gandalf told her.

"Shit!" she hissed.

This gained the attention of Faramir. Ricky was quick to hide her anger and look like a simple peasant girl again.

"Ah, Faramir," said Gandalf, putting his arm around Ricky's shoulders. "This is Erica. Erica, this is Lord Faramir, Lord Denethor's youngest son."

Faramir looked at Ricky. "Erica," he repeated. "It would not be another name for Ricky, would it?"

Ricky didn't know how to respond to that and she didn't get the chance.

"My lord," said a guard. "Lord Denethor wishes to speak to you."

Faramir nodded. "We will speak later, Mithrandir." He headed for the tower hall.

Gandalf turned to Ricky. "Have you found him?"

"No, but I know he's here somewhere," said Ricky.

"Keep searching," Gandalf said. "We must find Boromir."

Ricky nodded and walked away. As soon as she was out of sight, she dashed around to a side door and ran to the hall, hoping there would be a side entrance to it like there was in Meduseld. She wanted to eavesdrop on the conversation with Denethor and Faramir. She found it, but it was guarded. She went around to find another way to either an unguarded door or even a window, but she couldn't find one. Irritated, Ricky went back to trying to find Boromir.

She passed by several servants, each of them asking her if they could help her some way. Ricky used this to her advantage and asked about different things in the citadel. Soon she had a good idea about where just about everything was, including where the steward and his family slept.

Ricky made her way towards the steward's living quarters, slinking around the halls and ducking behind columns and around corners when she heard someone coming. She was almost to the quarters when she heard someone coming up behind her. Ricky hid behind a statue in an alcove and waited. A man in nice quality clothes came up the hallway. He was carrying a cup full of something. Once he walked passed her hiding place, Ricky leaned out to see where he was going. He kept walking ahead, but kept looking in every direction like he was afraid he would be caught. Ricky waited until he turned a corner before jumping from the alcove and running to keep up with him. She stopped at the corner and peered around to see him opening a door and going into a room. Ricky stepped around to spy on him.

"My lady."

Ricky whirled around to see a young maidservant standing behind her. "Yes?"

"Lord Denethor requests your presence in the tower hall."

"Could you lead me back?" Ricky asked innocently. "I'm a bit lost."

The maidservant led her back to the tower hall. It was silent between the two as they walked. Ricky wasn't sure if she should breathe a sigh of relief at that or not. She felt stupid for being caught like that. Hopefully the maidservant would believe Ricky's story about being lost and keep it to herself.

When Ricky entered, she saw Faramir and Pippin standing in the hall. There were also several servants setting up a table and placing food on it.

"My lord, Erica Dark-haired," the maidservant announced.

Denethor waved the servant away without looking in their direction. He went to sit at the table that had been laden with food.

Ricky was quick to stand next to Pippin. "What's goin' on?" she whispered in his ear.

"Denethor told Faramir about Boromir's death," Pippin whispered back.

Ricky gave his shoulder a squeeze. She glanced over at Faramir, but couldn't see his face.

"I do not think we should so lightly abandon the outer defenses," Denethor said reasonably to Faramir, "defenses that your brother long held intact."

"What would you have me do?" asked Faramir.

"I will not yield the river and Pelennor unfought – Osgiliath must be retaken," said Denethor.

"My lord, Osgiliath is overrun," Faramir reminded.

"Much must be risked in war," Denethor continued, looking up at Faramir. He went back to his meal, plucking small tomatoes from the stem. "Is there a captain here who still has the courage to do his lord's will?"

Ricky tensed, realizing what Denethor was implying.

Faramir realized it at the same time. "You wish now that our places had been exchanged, that I had died and Boromir had lived?" he said quietly.

Denethor hesitated, his cup brought halfway to his lips. "Yes," he whispered. "I wish that."

Ricky put her hand on Pippin's shoulder again and squeezed, this time hard. Pippin jerked and looked up at her. He saw she was angry, green eyes alight with rage and she was trying to keep it hidden. Pippin could tell it was taking every ounce of self-control she possessed not to say anything. And if bruising his shoulder was what it took to keep her cover, then Pippin was fine with that.

"Since you were robbed of Boromir, I will do what I can in his stead," Faramir said, his voice quivering slightly. He bowed low and began to walk away.

Ricky and Pippin watched him go.

Faramir paused and turned back to Denethor. "If I should return, think better of me, Father." He continued for the hall doors.

"That will depend on the matter of your return," Denethor said coldly, watching Faramir's back.

Pippin felt Ricky jerk. He put his hand on top of the one on his shoulder and pinched the back of her hand. She was quick to look down at him.

"No, Ricky," he breathed.

The doors closed behind Faramir and she glared in Denethor's direction.

"Erica Dark-haired," said Denethor, gaining Ricky's attention. "If Osgiliath is retaken, you will send word to Théoden King that his help will not be required."

"And if it's not?" Ricky asked, her accent and rage bleeding into her words.

Denethor looked up at Ricky.

"If Osgiliath is not retaken, my lord?" she clarified, quick to hide her slip-up.

Denethor gave her a cold look. "If Théoden can defend Helm's Deep against ten thousand Orcs, then it is possible Osgiliath will be retaken, provided Faramir does not fail me again."

That didn't answer Ricky's question, but it cemented where Faramir was in Denethor's eyes.

Ricky and Pippin continued to watch Denethor eat.

"Can you sing, Master Hobbit?" he suddenly asked.

"Well," Pippin responded uneasily, "yes, at least, well enough for my own people. But we have no songs for great halls and evil times. We seldom sing of anything more terrible than wind or rain."

"And why should your songs be unfit for my halls or for hours such as these?" Denethor asked. "Come – sing me a song!"

Pippin took a moment to think of what to sing. "Home is behind," he began slowly, "the world ahead. And there are many paths to tread. Through shadow to the edge of night, until the stars are all alight. Mist and shadow, cloud and shade: All shall fade, all shall fade."

Denethor continued with his meal as if he hadn't sent his son to his death.

That night Ricky changed out of her dress and put on her own clothes. With her hair tucked up under her knit hat and her clear lens goggles in place, she snuck around the empty halls of the citadel while people slept. She found her way back to the steward's living quarters and to the door where she had seen the nervous man with the cup. She tried the door and found it unlocked. Ricky opened it a crack and listened. When she heard nothing, she went inside and closed the door. She took out her flashlight and wrapped it in her end of her shirt before turning it on. The dimmed light was just enough that she could see the silhouettes of furniture. She inched the flashlight out of her shirt, lighting the room more. Across the room was a bed and it was occupied. Ricky quickly turned off her flashlight in fear that it may wake the person, but when there was no movement, she turned it back on.

"Holy shit!" she whispered when she saw who the person was.

Boromir lay in bed. At first Ricky thought he was dead by how pale he was, but then she noticed him breathing faintly. Ricky ran over to the bed, shining the light on his face.

"Boromir," she hissed, trying wake him. "Boromir!"

Ricky gave him a shake, but still got no response. "Dammit, Boromir! Wake up!" She gave him slap across the face.

Boromir stirred.

"Come on, Boromir, open yo' eyes."

Boromir's eyes flickered before opening.

"Ricky?" he rasped.

"Hey, Pretty Boy," Ricky said with a smile.

"How are you here?" he slurred. "The Uruk-hai!" He tried to sit up.

Ricky pushed him back down. "Stay down! I'm okay. Merry and Pippin are okay," she said, remembering what happened the last time she saw Boromir. "We're okay. You got shot."

The door rattled as someone opened it.

Ricky turned off her flashlight and dove under the bed. Peering out from under the bed, she saw it was the same man with the cup from before. He was holding a candle that lit up his face and carrying a cup again in his other hand.

"It is time for your medicine, my lord," the man said. This must have been the healer Ricky heard the cook and the maidservants talking about.

"No," Boromir protested weakly.

The healer walked up to the side of the bed.

Ricky could only hear Boromir protesting and the healer trying to get Boromir to drink whatever was in the cup. After several moments, Boromir was quiet again.

"Forgive me, my lord, but I must do as Lord Denethor commands." The healer turned and left.

Ricky waited a few moments before crawling out from under the bed.

"Boromir?" She turned on her flashlight again and found Boromir asleep again.

What was going on? Why were they drugging him? And why did Denethor tell everyone Boromir was dead? Ricky thought for a moment. If Boromir told Denethor everything and openly supported Aragorn, then Denethor might have been trying to keep his favored son out of the way. It was a possibility, not that Ricky cared about it at the moment. She needed Boromir awake and that couldn't happen if he kept getting drugged. But she couldn't do much about it at the moment.

"I'll be back," she promised Boromir.

Ricky snuck out of the room and hurried back to her own quarters.

I know I'm leaving it a bit on a cliffhanger, but it was a bit necessary. Next chapter is going to be a long one. I only just started writing it, but I was looking at what all I have to cover and it's a lot. I don't think I can break it up, so it was best that I make the break here.