A/N: (i definitely did not steal this chapter's title from star wars what's a star wars i don't know what you're talking about)

To Whatever End: Chapter Eight

-Aragorn-

My footsteps were slow as I traced the familiar route through Meduseld, glancing around the dimly lit corridors in search of she who had fled our party mere moments ago. It had disturbed me deeply to see the sudden terror overwhelm her so swiftly - Kaia, the one who was all but fearless. As I strode forward, however, I exhaled, shaking my head. No, she was not truly fearless. No one was. But still, it had been so unlike her... I could not remember another instance in which I had ever seen her so petrified. What had driven her to such fear?

Just then, I came within sight of the door to our company's shared chambers, pausing when I noticed it stood slightly ajar. As I drew nearer, I reached out, a hand coming to rest on the old wood, then hesitating. "Kaia? Are you there?"

From within, there was an exhale and the soft shuffling of movement, and then a quiet response. "Yeah, I'm here."

My frame relaxed as I pushed the door open further, the light from the hall cutting through the blackness of the room and washing directly over Kaia's smaller form. She sat slouched in the center of the room, staring aimlessly forward with a vacant expression as I approached. "Are you alright?"

"I'm..." She stopped, closing her eyes and taking another breath. "I'm fine. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you guys."

I remained unconvinced, however. One glance at her hands still trembling in her lap and the tension wound tight through her shoulders told me otherwise. "Would you care to explain whatever just happened?" I asked, sinking down to sit by her side. "It may not have been your intent, but you deeply worried all of us nonetheless."

At that, she winced, as if it were the last thing she wished to hear. "I'm sorry," she said again. "I just... I saw the signal from Minas Morgul go up, and I panicked. I had to get out of there."

"Why did it frighten you so much? You spoke as if you had seen it before."

A pause. "...I have," she answered, though I could sense it was guarded, and I frowned. In her movies, perhaps? But that still does not explain why it would scare her so deeply. "It's not necessarily the signal itself that scares me, it's just... what it means."

I remembered the one thing she had said out on the terrace and nodded, now suspecting the reason for her fear. "Sauron's armies march on Minas Tirith," I said, my own expression darkening as I thought of the battle to come. "It will be a great host, sent to show no mercy to the people of Gondor and destroy the realms of men." My gaze returned to Kaia. "You fear them?"

For a moment, she turned to meet my gaze, dark eyes filled with a deep pain I did not understand. "...Yeah," she muttered, looking away again. "Something like that."

I did not miss the unease in her words, and knew there was something more to her discomfort which she was not telling me. But it was not my place to press her for information, so I said nothing. If Kaia does not wish to reveal her heart any further to me, I will not force it from her. Instead, I settled for merely nodding and also looking away, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. "How do you fare otherwise?"

Kaia shrugged, running a hand through her wild hair. "Pretty well, I guess. I mean, sometimes I still dream about..." She trailed off, stumbling with her words. "The nights can be rough," she tried again. "But I manage." Then she looked back to me. "What about you? How are you doing?"

"Well enough," I answered honestly. "There is still much that plagues my mind day and night. At times, I wonder if we are even to survive this great war at all." I paused, feeling a distant, yet familiar despair threaten to ensnare me in its claws as an image of Arwen fading beneath the trees flashed across my mind. "And there is still much I regret of the past."

I felt Kaia's eyes on me, knowing she was aware of my greatest burden. "Have faith in her, Aragorn," she said quietly. "She'll come back to you." There was another stretch of silence between us until the woman beside me let out a breath, leaning back on her arms. "You know, sometimes I wish I'd been dropped into Middle-Earth before any of this ever happened. Things would be so much nicer without having to worry about Sauron, or Orcs, or the Ring, or any of that other shit. But I've got to admit... I have enjoyed most of this crazy adventure. It's been hell sometimes, but I'm glad I did it."

I managed a small smile at her display of optimism. "Do you regret anything?"

She was quiet for a moment, thinking carefully before responding. "I regret trying to infiltrate Isengard on my own. That almost cost me everything, and..." She shook her head. "I shouldn't have done it." Another pause. "And... to some extent, always arguing with Boromir. He was probably a nicer guy than I gave him credit for." I raised an eyebrow, shocked by her confession, but she only cast a dark look towards me in warning. "Don't you dare tell Kathryn that. She'll never let me live it down."

I chuckled. "I will say nothing."

"What about you?" she asked. "What else do you wish you could do over?"

At that, my gaze grew distant, a thousand memories from what felt like an age ago resurfacing. "Amon Hen. I would have spared Boromir and Merry from death if I could've, and perhaps led our Fellowship onward as one." My smile faded a bit, though it did not vanish entirely. "But I do not regret joining the Fellowship. Not at all."

"Neither do I," Kaia said. "It's been rough, and sometimes I feel like the entire world's against us, but... even if it was, I'd never stop fighting. No matter what happens, I..." She paused. "I'd rather give up everything fighting against the evil in this world than give up and let it win. It's not easy, but... sometimes it's not about making the easy choice."

I glanced to her, oddly struck by her words, and she too seemed to be mulling over them for a few seconds as we sat in stillness together. "No darkness is truly eternal with the existence of even the smallest flame," I said. "I have believed that since I was a child, and I will continue to believe it, now and until the end of my days."

Kaia smiled again, an air of hope settling over us as she finally seemed to relax the smallest bit. "You know what, Aragorn? Me too."

-Erin-

I moved through the halls of the citadel with purpose, gripping an unlit candle in my hand as I focused on remembering the directions a passing guard had given me. I was aiming for the great library of Minas Tirith, feeling like I finally had some sense of direction for the first time since arriving in the White City. Earlier that morning, I'd made a breakthrough - I'd figured out how Denethor had learned my true identity. A palantír. It seemed so incredibly obvious now. Of course that's how he'd known. Denethor was in possession of a palantír, which could be used to communicate with Sauron. And Sauron definitely knew who I was and where I came from, so clearly the Dark Lord had passed that information along to the steward. It all made so much sense now, and honestly, I was relieved to know there wasn't someone else who knew of my true origins running around the city unchecked. If I was right, however, it meant Denethor had been in communication with Sauron recently, which was a significant concern. Who had been the one to initiate that connection? Why? And for how long? Something felt off about the whole scenario, and I was determined to figure out what was really going on behind the scenes in Minas Tirith. But despite having looked into one myself, I still didn't understand all the specifics of how the palantíri worked, and the nature of how those connections could affect the user. I needed to learn more.

And so that was what had brought me to seek out the library in the citadel. As I reached the great black doors and lit my candle on a nearby torch, I wondered if this might be what I was meant to do in Minas Tirith. Maybe I could spare Denethor from his full descent into insanity, I mused, pushing past the doors and starting down the grand, spiraling steps. That would hugely benefit the city, to be sure. And if I can't offer much extra help on the battlefield, I might as well try seeing where this leads me. Maybe it'd be better for me to start trying to heal Minas Tirith from within.

As I hit the bottom of the stairs, I paused, taking a second to observe the massive room I now stood in. Honestly, massive was a bit of an understatement. This place was enormous. The central circular room had a high, domed ceiling stretching far overhead, made of a beautiful stained glass piece depicting a historic scene. Muted daylight filtered through the colored glass to give the room a dim, yet warm glow, made brighter by candelabras stationed all about and a few torches on the walls. Impossibly tall shelves stuffed full of books and scrolls covered the walls from floor to ceiling, and even more were stacked in piles on the floors and desks, too. I wandered a little further into the room, letting out a breath as I took it all in. "Wow," I whispered to myself. "Okay, this is insane. Definitely going to take longer than I thought to search through all this stuff." I had no idea where to begin, so I explored the central section a little further, finding a few smaller rooms branching off to the sides which seemed to have specific purposes. One room was labeled with a plaque above it that read "Histories of Arda," while another was simply deemed "Archives." Eventually, I settled on heading into one labeled "Chamber of Records," figuring it was the best place to start. There could be some useful information about past uses of this palantír in here, or when Denethor obtained it. That'd be good to know.

Upon entering the smaller room, however, I was surprised to find a familiar face hunched over one of the desks. I stopped short, looking at none other than the White Wizard himself. "Gandalf?"

He straightened up abruptly in his seat as I spoke, eyes lighting up and crinkling with a smile as he noticed me. "Ah, Erin! I had not expected to find you here."

"Nor I you," I replied, raising an eyebrow as I set my candle safely aside. "I thought you'd be busy helping the captains plan battle strategies by now."

Gandalf almost seemed to smirk. "In a sense, one could say that I am." He beckoned me forward, and I drew closer until I was standing behind him, peering down over his shoulder to see the contents spread across the desk. A dozen ancient, crumbling parchments were strewn about, and one fresh one off to the side, slowly being filled with the wizard's thin, scrawled lettering as he took down notes. None of this was what drew my eye, however. Instead, my gaze was drawn to a small stand sitting at the top of the desk, holding a single vial no larger than my pinky finger, its contents glowing a brilliant, iridescent blue.

I sucked in a breath, recognizing it immediately. "Blue Fire?" I asked, still confused. "How did you get this? And... why is it here?"

Gandalf reached out, plucking the vial from its stand and turning it over in his hands as he eyed it carefully. "I was shocked, as were many others, to see the effects of Saruman's newest creation," he explained. "In truth, even I had not seen a thing with such destructive power in all my years on this earth. It dealt great damage to our forces at Helm's Deep, and I suspected that would not be the last time our Enemy made use of it as a weapon." He set the vial back in its place, looking up at me. "I wish to understand it. To understand its capabilities, and how it may be used against us in this city."

My eyes widened slightly as I stared at him. "You think Sauron will use this in his siege against Minas Tirith?"

He nodded, glancing back to the chemical briefly. "For all his cunning, Saruman was still a puppet of Sauron's in the end. It is unlikely he managed to create something so powerful with the Dark Lord knowing nothing of it."

Damn. That's a good point. Without thinking, I reached up to my neck, fingers grazing the angry, scarred flesh along my jawline. "When I was fighting at Helm's Deep, I saw dozens of soldiers reduced to ash in a split second because of this stuff. Metal, flesh, and bone. They smothered most of it with dirt and sand at Helm's Deep because water wasn't enough to put it out." My eyes flicked back to Gandalf's, holding his gaze. "It's dangerous."

The wizard nodded, reflecting my own somber expression. "And so we must prepare our defenses against it as best we can. I will make note of that, Erin. Thank you." He turned to jot down my insight on his parchment.

I nodded, momentarily forgetting all my previous thoughts of Denethor and the palantír as another question came to mind. "Hey, by the way, where's Pippin? He asked me if I'd get lunch with him today, but I haven't seen him for at least an hour."

Gandalf set his quill aside, reaching for another one of the old scrolls to read over again. "I've given young Peregrin a most important task to complete," he said. "If he succeeds, his actions may help to bring us allies in the coming battle."

At that, I cracked a smile, knowing exactly what he meant. "You sent him to light the beacon, didn't you?"

"Yes," the wizard answered, a small, knowing smile growing on his face as well. "I trust he will not fail us."

-Kathryn-

"And you're sure of this?" Éowyn was staring at me with a skeptical expression. "You've searched everywhere for it?"

"Yes!" I groaned, gripping my head in my hands as we sat at a table in the main hall. "I had my bag last night, I know I did! But I couldn't find it anywhere this morning!"

"How do you lose an entire bag of your most valuable possessions?"

"Hell if I know!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in exasperation. "It's not anywhere in my room. I have no idea what I did with it."

"With what?" came Éomer's voice as he walked up behind us. "What have you managed to misplace this time?"

"My travel bag," I said, glancing back at him. "I went out last night with it, and when I woke up this morning, I couldn't find it anywhere."

Éomer raised an eyebrow. "How drunk were you?"

"Éomer!" Éowyn scolded, but I could see her fighting back a smile all the same.

"This time I wasn't, thank you very much," I answered with a smack to the chest. "But apparently I managed to lose it anyway." I sighed, shaking my head. "I don't know, I guess it'll turn up eventually. At least I don't have any real need for it right now." I turned in my seat to change the subject, looking up at him. "Will you still have time for a sparring session today like we planned? I'll come down later if you're still up for it... unless, you know, you've chickened out or something," I smirked.

Éowyn laughed as her brother shot me a friendly glare, also smirking. He opened his mouth to answer, and probably would've given a sharp comeback if Aragorn hadn't chosen that exact moment to suddenly come bursting into Meduseld without warning. He threw back the massive doors and came flying in as they hit the walls with a resounding bang, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Jesus!" I shrieked, spinning around as Kaia ran in two seconds later, right on his heels. "Why does everyone always have to make a loud, dramatic entrance around here?!"

My cry was all but ignored against the Ranger's news, though. "THE BEACONS OF MINAS TIRITH!" he shouted, half stumbling forward as he slowed. "THE BEACONS ARE LIT!" All eyes were immediately on him, including the king's, turning from where he'd previously been bent over a table conferring with his advisors. Aragorn's eyes were wide with urgency as he met Théoden's gaze, coming to a stop just a few feet before him. "Gondor calls for aid!"

In an instant, it fell completely silent. Everyone in the room now looked to the king himself, and I felt my pulse quicken. This was it. The moment we'd all been waiting for. Time seemed to freeze for a moment as Théoden remained absolutely still, staring at Aragorn and saying nothing. Thinking.

"We're their only hope," Kaia urged from where she stood behind Aragorn, still trying to catch her breath. "Without us, Gondor faces imminent destruction; they look to us for help!"

It seemed like everyone was waiting with bated breath as the silence stretched on, but then, after a moment, his expression resolved, and he finally spoke. "...And Rohan will answer!" Instantly, relief flooded the hall, and I let out a sigh of relief as Théoden gave the official order. "Muster the Rohirrim!"

That was all that needed to be said. Everyone burst into a flurry of activity, with Éomer bowing his head at his uncle's command and then nodding to both Éowyn and I as he excused himself to prepare his cavalry. I caught Kaia's eye from across the room, and she gave me a curt nod as well before running off to begin gathering her things. I rose from my seat at the table to begin packing up as well, but stopped short when I noticed Éowyn already on her feet next to me, staring forward with a stony, terse gaze. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head, jaw clenched. "They leave Edoras to ride for war again," she clipped, "and again will think nothing of leaving me behind."

I frowned. "Well, don't stay here, then. Ride with us."

Now it was Éowyn's turn to frown, glancing to me in confusion. "What?"

"No one's making you stay, are they?" She hesitated, then shook her head, and I shrugged. "Then don't. Find someone else to handle the city in your stead while you're gone."

She stared at me in disbelief, as if I'd spoken some prophetic gospel over her. "You believe I truly could?"

"Of course you could," I said, speaking sincerely as I held her gaze. "You've always talked about defying your uncle's wishes and following your heart's desire, Éowyn. Now's your chance to finally just do it. No one's stopping you."

"In this moment, no," she agreed, "but as soon as my uncle and brother hear word that I intend to follow them from the city, they will tell me to turn back."

"They might," I conceded. "But who cares if they do? You're a shieldmaiden of Rohan, Éowyn - go wherever you want to go and do whatever you want to do. They don't control you."

Éowyn stared back at me for a moment, uncertainty lingering in her eyes. But then, a second later, it shifted into determination, and she nodded, head held high. "We will ride together, then."

I grinned. "Sounds like a plan." She smiled faintly as well, and from there, we turned to go our separate ways, knowing there was much to be done before we would actually take off. I took a deep breath, beginning to mentally prepare myself for the long journey ahead as I started back towards my room. "Guess I'll be needing that travel bag after all."

Edoras was charged with excitement from that point on, with everyone running around to make all the necessary preparations quickly so we could leave as soon as possible. Within a few hours, most of the immediate Rohirrim had been assembled and almost all the provisions we'd need had been packed up and accounted for. After suiting up and tearing my room apart until I managed to find my missing bag, I was packed and ready to go, right on schedule as I stepped out of the stables with Deor in tow, searching for Éowyn. It didn't take me long to find her as she stood beside her own horse, tightening the straps of the bridle, as I walked up. "You ready to go?"

She turned, offering a small smile when she saw me. "Yes, I believe so. We ride for Dunharrow, I'm told."

"Is that far?"

Éowyn shook her head. "It is on the road to Minas Tirith. But my uncle will have us ride hard, I am certain. We must move quickly if we are to reach the city in time."

"That's true," I said, nodding as I noticed a familiar face also approaching us with his horse. "Hey Aragorn."

He nodded in greeting, though his gaze settled on Éowyn in surprise. "You ride with us?"

"Just to the encampment," she answered. "It's tradition for the women of the court to farewell the men." I tried not to smirk, knowing she'd made that excuse up on the spot as Aragorn eyed her skeptically. His gaze fell to a blanket beneath her saddle, reaching over to lift up the corner and revealing the hilt of a sword hidden underneath. Once Éowyn realized what he'd seen, she quickly pushed the cloth back down, concealing the weapon again as she met Aragorn's gaze. For a second, there was a slight fear in her eyes, but soon after it vanished as she stood her ground. "The men have found their captain," she said quietly, voice softening. "They will follow you into battle, even to death."

Aragorn said nothing, but I could sense the uneasy tension between them, and I clapped my hands together rather loudly after a minute to break the awkward silence. "Well! We should probably be ready to ride out soon." I swung up into Deor's saddle, glancing around as Aragorn and Éowyn followed my lead. "Where are the others?"

"Here," called a familiar voice. I glanced over my shoulder to see Kaia coming up from behind, flashing me a grin. "You didn't think you'd be getting out of here without me, did you?"

"No, of course not," I said. "I just thought maybe you'd gotten yourself lost somehow."

She scoffed. "You wish. Can I ride with you?"

"What, you still don't trust your own horse riding skills?"

"Shut up."

I laughed, letting her climb up behind me anyway as Legolas and Gimli also came into view, already settled atop Arod. "Horsemen!" Gimli huffed, observing the surrounding frenzy. "I wish I could muster an army of dwarves - fully armed and filthy."

"I like the sound of that," Kaia said. "They'd kick all kinds of ass down here, I bet."

Legolas' gaze had turned to the north, however, his voice soft and distant. "Your kinsmen may have no need to ride to war. I fear war already marches on their own lands."

I didn't miss the flash of worry that crossed his face as his eyes lingered on the distant horizon, knowing he feared for the fate of his own people more than he let on. "Don't worry about them, Legolas," I said quietly, hoping to offer some small amount of comfort. "They'll be all right." The elf glanced to me briefly, but said nothing, only holding my gaze with a somber expression for a moment before looking away.

Just then, the chiming of a bell rang out across the hillside, and I returned my focus to the task at hand as I took hold of Deor's reins. Éomer's voice could be heard shouting over all the chaos as the men began to fall into line, rallied as one. "Now is the hour! Riders of Rohan! Oaths you have taken! Now fulfill them all! To lord and land!" A few shouts of triumph rose up from behind us as I urged Deor forward, slipping into place at the head of the charge between Aragorn and Éowyn. And just like that, we were on the move once again, picking up speed as we passed through the main gates and began our journey on the long road to Minas Tirith.

-Erin-

The din of hundreds of chattering people filled the air as I wove through the tightly packed crowd, slowly picking my way through the multiple shops and carts lining the streets. I'd chosen to spend my morning exploring the markets on the first level of Minas Tirith, particularly in search of something to eat for breakfast. The previous night had been another restless one for me, with nightmares about my old Earth life and what I'd seen in the palantír keeping me awake through most of it. I'd tried to shake it off, but by the time the first rays of sunlight crept up over the mountains, I'd given up, deciding to just get an early start to my day instead. Before either Gandalf or Pippin had woken, I'd bathed, dressed, and slipped out of the suite to spend some time wandering around Minas Tirith for entertainment. The first level was quickly becoming a favorite of mine by now, especially the market area I currently found myself in. I smiled as a young girl ran past me, squealing as she was chased by an older brother not three steps behind. The atmosphere in this part of the city was so vibrant and lively compared to the cold silence of the citadel. It had definitely helped lift my spirits a bit, if nothing else. Spying a cart full of homemade baked goods, I stopped to examine the spread, welcomed by the two elderly women running it. Although I often felt saddened by the fact that I had so few friends in Minas Tirith, at the same time, there was a small part of me that enjoyed being a stranger here. None of these people know who I am, I thought, thanking one woman graciously as she accepted my coins. They don't know anything that I've done, they don't know where I came from... I'm nobody to them. And in small moments like this, I appreciated that. If they knew, they might not be so kind with me.

Just as I stepped away from the cart with a fresh loaf of bread in my hand, however, a piercing, unnatural scream ripped through the air, and I instinctively flinched away from the grating noise. Everyone else in the crowd around me froze, and then several began to cry out in fear, some looking to the skies with wary expressions. At first, I was whipping around in a confused panic, but then the scream came again: a sharp, high-pitched screech that I realized could only be one thing. I went still, turning my gaze to the skies as some of the men and women around me began running to the wall. Nazgûl. As soon as I came to my senses, I turned and made a beeline for the wall, pushing against the frenzied crowd as most of them scattered. I was able to slip and squeeze past all the people and make it up the stairs to the parapets, stopping to look out over the plains below. My breath caught in my throat as I saw a small mass of Gondorian soldiers fleeing for their lives across the Pelennor, some on horseback, others trailing behind on foot. Above them, three great winged beasts like some cross between serpents and dragons were chasing the men down, each with a Ringwraith cloaked in black atop its back. I watched as one of the Fell Beasts dove low, its decaying wings spread wide as it plowed through at least five horses at once, its rider let out another horrific screech.

The screams of both Nazgûl and men echoed across the plains, but just as it seemed like all hope was lost for the fleeing soldiers, there came another shout from nearby. "It's the White Rider!" At that, my gaze shifted, spotting a single rider clad in all white speeding out towards the terrorized men, and a quiet breath of relief escaped me as I saw him lift his staff high. "Thank God." From the point of Gandalf's staff there came a blinding white light, shining out over the soldiers and the Nazgûl like brilliant, deadly sunlight. At its touch, the foul creatures shrieked again, but this time in pain as they began to withdraw, finally deserting the band of men and turning back to Osgiliath. Once the men were safely out of harm's reach, Gandalf's light went out, and I immediately turned to run back down the steps, moving as fast as I could to get to the main gates and meet him there.

I shoved people aside as I went, apologies flying rapidly as I rushed through the streets. Minutes later, I stumbled into the open plaza, jerking back a second later as I narrowly missed getting trampled by a rider atop his horse. My eyes were everywhere as I turned this way and that, trying to spot a familiar face amidst the rush of soldiers flooding into the city. Some were injured, some weren't, but thankfully it didn't seem like they'd lost too many men to the Nazgûl. Just as I was about to give up my search, I caught a glimpse of curly red hair over to my left and immediately began pushing towards it, weaving around the other men and their horses. "Gandalf! Pippin!"

The two turned at my shouts, and Pippin's face lit up as soon as his eyes found me rushing towards them. "Erin!"

"Are you guys okay?" I asked, quickly looking them over. "I saw everything from the wall - were many hurt?"

"All is well, Erin," Gandalf assured me. "With great luck, we were spared the loss of many men."

"All thanks to you," I pointed out. "These men owe you their lives."

Gandalf gave a small smile and opened his mouth to speak again, but he was cut off by another calling his name from behind. "Mithrandir!" He turned, but not enough for me to see past him as the new voice spoke in a breathless rush. "They broke through our defenses. They've taken the bridge and the west bank. Battalions of Orcs are crossing the river."

"It is as the Lord Denethor predicted!" someone else cried from nearby. I looked up as a man with wavy blond hair and a dark cloak came forward - Irolas, an officer of Denethor's. "Long has he foreseen this doom!"

"Thanks, pal. No one asked," I muttered under my breath. Pippin snickered.

Gandalf turned on Irolas with an open sneer. "Foreseen and done nothing!" he spat.

At that moment, he turned fully, Shadowfax shifting and finally allowing me to see the first man that'd spoken. In the first second I looked at him, all I could think was how much he looked just like his brother: same strawberry blond hair and grey-blue eyes set in a strong, stern face. But he was not entirely like Boromir, for even now I could see a softness in his gaze that was different; a quiet, calm rain where Boromir had been a raging storm. Faramir's gaze fell to me for an instant, but then quickly shifted to the hobbit in front of Gandalf, taking a much greater interest in Pippin, who shifted uncomfortably beneath the man's stare.

"Faramir?" The young captain of Gondor looked up at Gandalf, who stopped as the realization dawned on him "...This is not the first Halfling to have crossed your path."

Faramir shook his head. "No."

At that, Pippin's head snapped up, eyes wide as he put two and two together. "You've seen Frodo and Sam!" he gasped.

Faramir nodded, and Gandalf looked equally as shocked. "Where? When?"

"In Ithilien," he answered, "no more than a fortnight ago." At first, Pippin glanced back at me with a massive grin, but the moment was ruined when Faramir's gaze sobered. "Gandalf, they're taking the road to the Morgul Vale."

The wizard's face fell, hope turning to terror. "And then the pass of Cirith Ungol..." Again, Faramir nodded, lips pressed into a grim line.

"What does that mean?" Pippin asked, unaware of what the name meant for his friends. "What's wrong?"

Gandalf ignored his question, now looking to the younger man with urgency. "Faramir... tell me everything. Tell me all you know."

He nodded in response, but then his gaze fell to me again, straightening up in his saddle. "I do not believe we have met. I am Faramir, son of Denethor and Captain of the White Tower."

"Erin," I responded, bowing my head in turn. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm glad you managed to escape Osgiliath unscathed."

At that, his eyes darkened slightly. "I would not say unscathed," he said, looking back to Gandalf. "We have much to discuss."

For a moment, my gaze lingered on Faramir, a dozen different thoughts circling in my mind. There was so much I wanted to say to him, so many things to ask him about... but I could tell now was not the time. "I'll leave you to it, then," I smiled, glancing to Pippin. "Come on, Pip. Why don't you come with me to the markets? I found this great bakery cart earlier when I was passing through, you'd love it." At the mention of food, his eyes widened, and he nodded eagerly as he jumped down from his seat atop Shadowfax. As Pippin came to stand at my side, I cast one last glance up at Faramir with a respectful dip of the head. "I expect we'll be seeing more of each other soon, Captain Faramir."

He returned the nod. "Yes, it would seem so. Farewell, Lady Erin." With that, he turned his attention back to Gandalf again, the two of them immediately diving into deep conversation as he began recounting everything that'd happened in Ithilien. I smiled again, turning away as I led an excited Pippin back into the streets of Minas Tirith, the hobbit immediately starting to talk my ear off about some old bakery he used to love back in the Shire and how excellent their berry tarts were and the importance of extra jam on everything. I was barely paying attention, though, my thoughts still remaining on the young captain of Gondor as we walked off. Maybe I'll be making a new friend in this city sooner than I thought.

-Faramir-

"You did what?!"

Despite myself, I nearly flinched as the words were hissed at me, spat with a venom I had expected, yet still stung. "I let them go," I said again, willing my own voice to hold firm. "I had no other choice."

"No other-!" My father's jaw clenched tight in anger, fury radiating off him like heat from a blazing fire. Every part of me wished to sink into the stone beneath my feet; to vanish as if I had never entered the hall in the first place. But I could not. I had made my choice, and now would suffer the consequences I knew would come to pass. For a moment, Father was silent, but finally, he spoke again, face twisted in a disgusted scowl. "This is how you would serve your city? You would risk its utter ruin?"

"I did what I judged to be right." And it had been right, I reminded myself. I was sure of it.

My father, however, was less so. "What you judged to be right? You sent the Ring of Power into MORDOR! In the hands of a witless HALFLING!" His shouts echoed off the walls, and as I stared at him then I felt no more than a boy of ten, small and powerless against his wrath. But then something within my father's gaze shifted and became distant, as if he spoke to some unforseen presence rather than me. "It should have been brought back to the citadel," he said softly, " to be kept safe... hidden... dark and deep in the vaults. Not to be used..." Another pause, and his eyes darkened, a grey veil cast over them. "...Unless at the uttermost end of need."

The way he spoke sent an unwelcome chill up my spine, and I felt myself bristle at the foul air that suddenly seemed to sweep the room. Too often had my father spoken in such darkness as of late. I had seen it in him, growing stronger ever since he received word of Boromir's fall. It was a fog, shrouding itself around him, clinging to him as he stalked the halls of the citadel almost fearfully, trailed by a presence I could not name. I did not understand it, but I could sense it, and it angered me to see such seeds of madness take root inside my father's heart. "I would not use the Ring," I said, holding his gaze as it returned to me. "Not if Minas Tirith were falling in ruin and I alone could save her!"

A cold, mocking smirk appeared on my father's face. "Ever you desire to appear lordly and gracious, as a king of old," he sneered, his expression falling into a darker scowl again soon after. "Boromir would've remembered his father's need. He would've brought me a kingly gift."

"Boromir would not have brought the Ring." I spoke without a second thought, Kathryn's desperate revalations flooding back to me. "He would've stretched out his hand and taken this thing; he would have fallen."

"You know nothing of this matter!"

"He would've kept it for his own!" My own breath seemed to escape me for a moment, chest tightening as the weight of this truth settled over me fully. I swallowed, not wanting to admit that which I already knew. "...And when he returned... you would not have known your son."

"Boromir was loyal to me!" In a frenzy, my father leapt from his throne, springing forward like a wild animal, and I drew back, fear striking my heart as his eyes blazed with anger. "Not some wizard's pupil!" He stopped short and drew back to return to his throne, but stumbled in his retreat, falling back to the floor with a weakened cry.

For a moment, I hesitated, struck into silence by his harsh words. But as I looked to him, broken and fallen on the floor, my heart softened. He was my father. I was called to love him, regardless of his anger or contempt for my actions. "Father?" I asked softly, stepping forward to approach him. Let me help you. Please. You must fight against this darkness.

He turned his face to me, and for a moment, I was taken aback. For now there was no rage or hatred in his eyes, but... love. I saw love in him. A thin, wavering smile stretched across his face, and he sat up, leaning towards me with an awed joy washing over him. I drew back again, confused by this sudden shift as he now rose to stand on his one, his smile widening. "...My son..."

And then I saw it. The glaze across his eyes as they looked not at me, but through me, to a ghost of Boromir only he could see. The love and joy in him was not for me. It never had been. My face fell as my father blinked, and the vision faded, leaving him with no more than a reminder of the son he would rather have forgotten. And slowly, as his focus settled on me, I watched the happiness slip from his face like sand through my fingers, wavering and cracking as he trembled in grief. He looked at me then, and the darkness returned to him, disgust in his eyes and loathing in his scowl. "...Leave me," he hissed.

The words pierced me deeper than any blade could've, and I swallowed against the tight, bitter pain in my chest, turning and obeying his command without another word. And as I strode from the hall, slow and dazed, I felt the deafening reminder of my failures ringing over and over again in my head like a bronze bell. I will never be the son that pleases him. The son that he takes pride in. The son he loves. I pushed past the great doors, stepping out into the daylight but feeling none of its warmth. That son was taken from him, and now he has nothing. I am nothing to him. I have always been nothing to him.

-Erin-

There was nothing but an endless expanse of white surrounding me on all sides, thicker than any natural fog or mist. I could see nothing but emptiness no matter where I turned my gaze, a wild, fierce wind whipping my long brown hair into my face as I walked, slowly putting one foot in front of the other. It was almost as if I were walking through a great blizzard, but I felt no chill, even as my feet sank into the soft white blanket covering the earth. I felt... nothing. Nothing at all.

I was dreaming. The thought struck me almost immediately as I became aware of my own presence in the foreign landscape. Yes, that could be the only explanation for this strange setting. It was a dream. I pushed the hair from my face in a vain attempt to clear my vision, but for what reason, I did not know. I couldn't see anything at all except the thick white haze surrounding me. I had no idea where I was, or where I was going, or why I was going there. But I couldn't stop walking. Why couldn't I make myself stop walking? I was lost and confused, and... I didn't understand. Why was I here? What was this dream? It was like I was seeing everything through my own eyes, but had no control over my own body. And no matter what, I did not stop walking.

I continued on through the mist, trudging forward without rest. And then I felt it. Somehow, there was... an instinct; something pulling me forward. That's why I was walking. I couldn't explain it, but I could feel it. The desire - no, the unshakeable need to keep going buried within the deepest depths of my heart. It was like a part of my own soul was calling me forward, a pull so strong I couldn't resist it. And as I focused on that feeling, trying to understand it, I suddenly knew. I was... following something. Wait, what? That didn't make sense. There were no other tracks in front of me; no suggestion at all that some other person or thing had passed this way before I had. And yet I knew. I had to keep going. Something was out there, calling me, drawing me near. And so I kept walking.

I had no concept of time as I pressed on, moving in silence with nothing but the sound of the whistling wind to accompany me. It could've been hours, days... months? I didn't know. I couldn't tell. I just kept going and going and going and going, searching for whatever it was that beckoned me. Watching. Walking. Waiting. I tried to see myself, hoping I could gain some sort of context, but my eyes refused to look anywhere but forward. Only forward. Seeking whatever was out there for me to find. But what could there be? There was nothing here. Nothing! Nothing but an unending, all-consuming fog. What was going on? What was I so persistently chasing after?

But then, just as I was about to try and force myself awake from this strange nightmare, I saw it. A flicker of gold in the distance, so quick I barely even noticed it. The moment I caught sight of it, though, I felt the pull again, even stronger than before, and my heart began to pound in my chest as anticipation washed over me. But there was something else beneath it... familiarity. That flash of gold meant something to me. My strides grew longer and quicker as I picked up the pace, eager now that I had seen a glimpse of promise up ahead. Moments later, I began to see a form through the haze: tall and lean, walking many yards ahead of me. A man.

Suddenly, I stopped, the figure clearly visible to me now. And before I could think, or even breathe, a name I had never heard before in my life came to the forefront of my mind, ripping from my throat in a desperate shout. "Thalion!"

What was happening? I didn't... I didn't know anyone named Thalion. But... no, I did. The moment the name left my lips, I felt it resonate in my chest - I did know this man. What? Before I could process it any further, though, he turned, and I felt shock rip through me like a lightning bolt as I saw his face.

At first glance, I thought I was looking at Legolas. He looked almost exactly like him. Long, platinum blond hair framed two pointed ears and a strong jawline, his dark brow creasing in exactly the same way Legolas' did as he saw me, a curious frown pulling at his lips. A dark, sleek bow was held tightly in his hands as he stilled, like he recognized me too. Truly, I thought I was looking at some strange apparition of a young Legolas... but then I saw his eyes, and I went rigid, suddenly unable to breathe. His eyes. Sage green, with golden brown halos at their very centers. My eyes.

A wall of emotion slammed into me, shaking me to my very core, and I nearly collapsed then and there. I knew him. I knew his face, I knew his name, I knew him like I knew myself - the feeling was so strong, unlike anything I'd ever felt before in my life - but I knew him. Thalion opened his mouth, but his voice was lost to the wind, and he took a step forward, but suddenly he was fading, everything was fading, and I tried desperately to burn his image into my memory as I realized who he was...

A gasping breath tore through the silence of the room as my eyes shot open, sweat beading on my brow as a tremor rippled through me. I felt frozen in shock, and it took me a minute to remember where I was as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, seeing Pippin and Gandalf still asleep in their own beds. I sat up, mouth agape as I stared forward, heart still beating wildly in my chest as I slowly began to process what I'd just seen. Who I'd just seen. Because no... I hadn't dreamed that. I had seen it. I had felt it. I couldn't explain how, but I just... knew. Stronger than anything else I'd ever known or felt in my life. My hands trembled as I raised them to my face, barely able to think, and suddenly overwhelmed with emotion as tears of joy filled my eyes. Because for the first time in months, I had hope. A distant beacon of light cutting through the darkness threatening to swallow me whole. And as a shuddering breath escaped me, I felt a new, fresh conviction take hold - my reason to keep fighting leaving me in a shaken whisper as I closed my eyes and saw his face. "...My son..."