I do not own Lord of the Rings, or any of Tolkien's characters. Any characters and plot lines I create are mine.

Chapter 10: Gondor Isn't So Bad

It suddenly occurred to Azruphel just how naive she was about the world. For starters, she had read almost any book she could find, studied every map, and learned many languages, except Elvish until a week ago. But despite the massive amount of learning she had done, she was stunned at the people of Minas Tirith! She stood frozen, barely hearing Strider say he was going to find a stable for Nightfall. Instead, she was watching the people walk through the streets, stopping at stands and walking into buildings, and then leaving the establishments with food, clothing, or whatever each place had.

Of course she would not immediately recognize the market. Places where non-soldiers bought and sold items. Azruphel was still overwhelmed slightly by the differences. In Mordor, there were no markets, or buying and selling for that matter. Everything had to do with war.

"The inn is over there. They should have a room available," Strider said. Azruphel jumped. She had not heard him approach. As he made his way towards the building at the far end of the street. Azruphel remained silent while Strider talked to the man at the counter, looking wide eyed at the many people talking, laughing, and drinking. She picked up snippets of conversation: a man was laughing about another's dog while a few tables over a young man was stumbling around singing a song. A more serious group was discussing a man named Boromir (Azruphel quickly recalled from a few of her lessons that Boromir was the son of the Steward). Strider must have heard the conversation as well, and he seemed to roll his eyes while the two men praised Boromir. The man behind the counter led them up to a room.

"You alright?" Strider asked once the man left their room, snapping Azruphel out of her thoughts.

"Yes. Yes, of course. Why do you ask?" she said a little too quickly.

"Well, ever since we arrived, you've had this look on your face. The best way to describe it would be nervous, or frightened," Strider said, choosing his words carefully.

"I feel out of place."

"And?"

"Fine! I am a little frightened. Happy?"

"I'm not unhappy," Strider said, smiling. Azruphel gave him a disgusted look and sat down on a bed. She finally took the time to survey the room. It was simple but comfortable, with a fireplace and a large window looking out on the street She would have preferred separate rooms, but she figured Strider had limited funds. At least, she noted, there are two beds.

"I know how you feel," Strider said.

"Do you?" Azruphel asked. "Have you ever left the one home you have ever known to the people that you have been raised to think were your enemies by a person you barely even know? And all of that because the very people you should have trusted lied to you about the very reason they are allied with Sauron-"

"Azruphel! Keep your voice down."

"Well, do you?"

Strider sighed. "No."

"I thought so." Azruphel turned around to face the window. "I'm sorry. Its just, this has happened really fast. I don't even know what I was thinking when I went with you."

Strider paused at that last statement. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Doesn't matter now, anyway."

Strider was worried, but decided to let the comment go.

*** Azruphel***

The next morning, Strider decided to take Azruphel for a tour of the city, hoping to calm her down. It took an hour, but Azruphel eventually started to relax. Strider had even convinced her to leave her sword in their room, but noted with amusement that she still had a dagger. Later, Azruphel decided to check on Nightfall while Strider searched for a horse of his own. Azruphel walked into the stable, much calmer than she had been the previous day. Having Strider show her around had helped, along with constantly reminding herself that she wasn't around soldiers. She saw Nightfall at the end, and pulled an apple out of her bag. Azruphel smiled. She had been scared to talk to anyone in Minas Tirith, but Strider convinced her to buy an apple. After that, she had opened up a little, saying hello to someone if they said it to her or commenting on the weather. Not like this happened often, considering she looked like a he, and Strider told her that people usually avoided Rangers. The extent of her conversations were a few kind adults and one child who Azruphel believed had been dared to talk to them.

Lost in thought and stroking Nightfall, Azruphel did not notice the man walk up behind her and said, "That is a magnificent horse."

Azruphel spun around. The light-haired man behind her was wearing a uniform. A soldier! "What?"

"Your horse. He looks like he is Rohirrim, correct?"

"Uh, yes. I, uh, got him in Rohan." What are you doing? Act confident, Azruphel thought. Nightfall, as if sensing Azruphel's discomfort, flattened his ears at the man.

"I don't think he likes me. I'm sorry, I should have introduced myself. I am Faramir."

Faramir. She had heard the name before. "I am Faran."

"Faran, pleasure to meet you." He held out his hand, and Azruphel hesitated for a second before shaking it.

"Is this your first time in Minas Tirith?" Azruphel nodded. "Well then, welcome!"

"Thank you!"

"Are you staying long?"

"Not sure. Probably a day or two."

"Have you traveled much?"

This is getting a little personal, Azruphel thought. "No."

"First time away from home, huh?"

"You could say that." Why wouldn't this man leave her alone?

Faramir seemed distracted by something. He kept looking out the doors every few seconds. It was making Azruphel uncomfortable. Perhaps Faramir realized this.

"I apologize. I am trying to avoid the messengers my father sent to look for me." Then Faramir laughed. "I really shouldn't be ignoring him, but I just didn't feel like dealing with him today."

Azruphel turned towards Faramir. While she did not have much experience with the people of Gondor, she thought he was very strange.

"I am sorry. I should not be complaining to someone I just met." Azruphel did not know how to respond to that, but was saved when Strider walked in, leading a bay horse.

"Faran, we should probably leave tomorrow morning," Strider said. Faramir took this as his cue to leave.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Faran. I hope you return to our city in the future." Azruphel smiled, and Faramir turned and left. Azruphel watched as, almost immediately, a man intercepted him with a message. Azruphel chuckled before turning to look at Strider.

"Do you know who that was?"

"Not really," Azruphel said. "He was just looking over the horses. Apparently Nightfall looks Rohirrim."

Strider laughed. "You were just talking to Faramir, the son of the Steward." Strider placed his horse in a stall next to Nightfall. "Nightfall, meet Brehan. Brehan, Nightfall. Be nice."

Both Azruphel and Strider watched as the two horses eyed each other before walking out of the stable, laughing.

"Wait," Azruphel said. "I thought Boromir was the Steward's son!"

"Boromir is the eldest, and the favorite. Everyone seems to forget about Faramir."

Suddenly, Strider's eye roll the previous day made sense. "Do you not like Boromir?"

"I do not know him very well, but I know his father."

Strider left it at that, but Azruphel had heard enough stories about Denethor. Strider's reaction must meant that the stories were, for the most part, true.

***Azruphel***

The next morning, when Azruphel and Strider left Minas Tirith, Azruphel had mixed feelings. Though she was still very uncomfortable around the people of Gondor, she had enjoyed seeing the city. In the end, she decided she felt sad to go.

"What are you thinking about?" Strider asked.

"I was thinking that Gondor isn't so bad after all."

A/N: Please review!