Chance Encounter

Disclaimer: I don't own Balian, Legolas, Aragorn etc. etc. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

First Author's Note: There were lots of good suggestions in response to the questionnaire. I sort of decided (on my own) that Balian should become a little more independent. He has been tagging along with the Fellowship for quite some time now. So the ideas came down to he either goes to Minas Tirith with Gandalf and Pippin (Courtesy of Spellcaster Hikaru) or he stays with the Rohirrim and rides to Gondor with them. I loved both ideas and had written drafts for both. Unfortunately, only one possibility can be uploaded. I tossed a coin to decide and the result: To Minas Tirith with Gandalf and Pippin. For those of you who wanted him to go to the Paths of the Dead, there will be compensation (read on to find out). Anyway, enough rambling, onto the story.

Chapter 28: The White City

Gandalf's white robes billowed out behind him as he made his way to the stables with Merry and Pippin in tow. The wizard was still berating the youngest hobbit for his dangerous curiosity. Pippin's cousin was doing exactly the same thing. They found Balian in the stables, waiting for them.

"Gandalf," began the blacksmith hesitantly. He felt a little uncomfortable saying this. "Are you sure it's safe for you to travel alone to…to Gondor?"

"It will never be 'safe' as long as Barad-dûr still stands, young man," said the wizard. "Whether I ride alone or with an escort will make no difference…" He trailed off, glancing at Balian who looked embarrassed. He had heard that the man was a talented commander. Both Théoden and Aragorn had commended him. Gondor needed men like him. Théoden had Éomer and the King of Rohan himself was a competent leader both in war and during times of peace, not to mention Aragorn was going to be with them up until they reached Dunharrow. With Boromir dead and Faramir constantly in disfavour with the Steward, maybe it would be wise to take Balian along. The man might just prove to be useful.

"If you're volunteering to come with me," continued Gandalf "I shall certainly not object."

Moments later, two horses raced through the gates of Edoras. Aragorn and Merry watched them go from the watchtower. "Who's with them?" asked Gimli, coming up to join the two.

"Balian's going to Minas Tirith with them," said Aragorn. "Gandalf thought he'd be more useful there."

"Hmph," snorted the dwarf. "The lad told you, told Merry, but he forgot about Legolas and me."

"Actually, that's not true," said Legolas. "He told me but he couldn't find you in time, so he told me to tell you."

"I'm glad he's going," said Aragorn. "Gondor will have need of his services before long. I just wish I could see his face when he finds out they have trebuchets."

"That's all very well," said Gimli "but he left us alone with his friend."

"What friend?" said Merry. Legolas and Aragorn just groaned as they heard an irritating and familiar drawl.

"Oh, it's Guy," said Merry.

Balian had never seen forests quite like the forests in Middle Earth. They were all so different from each other. The one that they were riding through was decidedly better than Fangorn. At least the trees stayed still. The path was littered with dead leaves and at the base of trees, strange plants with leaves that resembled feathers grew. Gandalf had called them 'ferns'. Balian glanced in Gandalf's direction. Pippin was dozing in front of the wizard, looking very much like a small child with his grandfather. The small company stopped during nights for Balian's benefit. Gandalf could go for days without sleep. The man was grateful for their consideration. No one else, save maybe Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli, would have done it for him. Godfrey certainly would not.

Soon, the forest gave way to open plains and smooth round hills covered in yellowing grass. The horses' hooves sent water flying up as they rode through a small stream flowing down from the gleaming snow-capped mountains. "We've just passed into the realm of Gondor!" said Gandalf. In front of them lay a white city. Mordor loomed in the horizon. The skies above it were dark with clouds and poisonous fumes, lit by occasional flashes of red light. They urged the horses on, knowing that the sooner they got to the city, the better.

Éomer inwardly cursed Balian for leaving Guy in Rohan. He had abandoned them, so the least he could do was take the arrogant bastard with him. Guy was all too keen on advising the Rohirrim in the arts of war during the war councils. He was patiently —or impatiently, in Éomer's case— ignored. The Third Marshal could not stand the man who thought he was better than everyone else. Sometimes, the temptation to strangle him was almost too great. He found it impressive that his uncle could be so patient. 'That's why Théoden is a good king,' he told himself with a wry smile. It was fortunate that Guy was wont to avoid Éomer after their first run in with each other.

Tension permeated the atmosphere in Edoras. Worried glances were cast in the direction of Mordor every few moments. The days were growing darker. The sun was often hidden behind dark clouds. A storm was brewing. Legolas looked towards the east and frowned. Gandalf and his little company had left for Gondor three days ago. They should be there by now. He didn't know what was worse; facing the oncoming enemy hordes or waiting for news of them. Even after centuries of doing both, he still could not decide.

Aragorn spent every waking moment watching the beacon on the mountain top. The future king was worried about the welfare of his country. The elf could not blame him for being so anxious. He thought about his home often, wondering how his father and his brothers were coping. Greenwood was no longer safe. Sauron's forces occupied much of it now and it was a daily struggle to prevent darkness from taking over the entire forest. With Aragorn so occupied, Legolas spent much time in the Hall of Meduseld, listening to the King discussing battle strategies with Éomer and other Rohirrim advisers. Guy was constantly present, trying to give his expert opinion. He was often silenced by the story of the one great battle that he fought and lost, made infamous through many renditions. Somehow, it didn't deter him for long.

Up close, Minas Tirith was a wonder that Balian could hardly find words to describe. It seemed like a citadel which angels in Heaven would occupy. Before seeing it for himself, he had always envisioned it as a glorified Kerak Castle of white stone with a few towers like Orthanc. The first level alone was higher than the walls of Jerusalem. Like Helms Deep, Minas Tirith was built against steep cliffs and was semi-circular in shape. Balian did not understand why the people in Middle Earth did not understand the dangers of this style of fortress. It was too late now. The gargantuan gates with spectacular reliefs of things which Balian thought to be historical events opened with a creak. They rode through, and up the city, making people jump out of their way.

At the very top, in the courtyard where a dead tree with white bark stood, Gandalf dismounted and Balian followed the wizard's example. He was too awed by the city's immensity to speak. Everything seemed to be white, like the way Balian imagined Heaven to be, if not for the spectacular view of Mordor which the city offered.

"It's the tree," said Pippin in awe. "Gandalf! It's the tree!"

"Yes," said the wizard not bothering to turn around as he strode towards the entrance of the Citadel. Balian and Pippin followed him, the hobbit almost needing to run to catch up with the other two's long strides. "The White Tree of Gondor, the Tree of the King. Lord Denethor, however, is not King. He is a Steward only, a caretaker of the throne." Gandalf stopped just before the door and turned to Balian and Pippin.

"You must be very careful with what you say," he told them. "Lord Denethor is Boromir's father. To tell him of his beloved son's death would be most unwise, and don't say anything about Frodo and the Ring… and say nothing of Aragorn either." The wizard paused just as he was about to go in. "In fact, it would be better if you didn't speak at all Peregrin Took. Balian, you know what to do."

'Do I?' thought Balian, but he had no time to say anything before the doors —which were black, in contrast to the overwhelming white of the city— opened and they had to go in. The interior was made entirely of marble. Huge white columns supported the domed ceiling and translucent marble statues of the Kings of old lined the colonnade. At the far end was the throne of smooth black marble. It was empty. A man with a sceptre of white wood sat in a chair beside the throne. In his lap was a horn, cleaved into two.

Balian's heart clenched as he recognized it. It had been Boromir's.

"Hail, Denethor, Son of Ecthelion, Lord and Steward of Gondor," said Gandalf. "I bring tidings at this dark hour, and counsel."

"Perhaps you come to explain this?" said Denethor slowly in a rasping voice, holding up the two halves of the horn. "Perhaps you come to tell me why my son is dead?"

Balian's mouth opened, but he was robbed of words. Grief welled up inside him as he recalled how Boromir had taken the arrow that had been meant for him. It was Pippin who spoke first, despite Gandalf's advice.

"Boromir died to save us, my kinsmen and me," he said, stepping forward and kneeling down on one knee. "He fell defending us from many foes. I offer you my service, such as it is, in payment of this dept."

The blacksmith finally found his voice. He also knelt. "Boromir's death is not Pippin's responsibility alone," he said. "If not for me, he would have lived. I, too, offer you my service in payment of the dept that I owe him."

Gandalf groaned silently as his two young companions went against all his advice. Clearly, he had overrated Balian's common sense. He watched Denethor's response closely, ready to act if the Steward showed any inclination to harm either one of them.

"Explain!" commanded the Steward. "How is it that you lived and my son died, as great a man as he was?"

Pippin and Balian glanced at each other. Then Pippin spoke. "The greatest man may be slain by one arrow," he said quietly "and Boromir was pierced by many."

Denethor seemed shocked to learn that his son had not died immediately. He turned cold hard eyes to Balian. "And you? What part did you play in his death?" he demanded.

"Boromir took an arrow that was meant for me," said Balian. "It should've been me who died that day, not him."

"Yes, indeed you are right about that much," said the Steward. "It should've been you. But tell me, did he really take that arrow for you or did you push him into its path to save yourself?"

The wizard started at this question. He had expected Pippin to cause trouble, not Balian and yet it seemed as if it would be the blacksmith who would need rescuing. "Lord Steward," said Gandalf, stepping in front of Balian protectively "I assure you that Balian's honour is not under question. He has proved himself to be loyal to our cause. There will be time to grieve for Boromir but it is not now. The enemy is on your doorstep! Where are Gondor's armies? You are not alone. Gondor still has friends. Send word to Théoden of Rohan. Light the beacons."

"Our cause?" said Denethor mockingly "or, rather, your cause? Do you really 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 you right you would seek to supplant me. Oh yes, I know who rides with Théoden of Rohan. I have heard of this Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and I tell you now that no ranger from the north will ever rule this kingdom, last of a ragged house long bereft of lordship."

Balian knew he should not have been surprised at Aragorn's identity —there had been some not-so-subtle hints— but it still did not stop him from feeling shocked to hear it being said outright.

"Authority is not given to you to deny the return of the King, Steward," said Gandalf.

Denethor stood up, almost frothing at the mouth in his anger. "The rule of Gondor is mine, and no other's!" he snarled.

Balian looked up in alarm. What was going to happen? Denethor was certainly not going to cooperate, and he controlled Gondor. Gandalf turned to him and Pippin. They were still kneeling on the floor. "Come," he told them as he turned to walk out of the throne room, seething with unspent rage. They had no choice but to obey, leaving the Steward to his anguish. "All has turned to vain ambition," said Gandalf as they went out. "He would even use his grief as a cloak."

Outside, the sky seemed darker than when they went in. Gandalf glanced back at the citadel and sighed. "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 flower again."

"Why are they still guarding it then?" said Pippin.

"They guard it because they still have hope," said Gandalf. "A faint and fading hope that one day the king will return."

They walked to the end of the parapet which faced the east and looked across the plain to Mordor.

"Mordor…" breathed Pippin.

"Yes, there it lies," said Gandalf wearily. "Ever has this city dwelt in its shadow."

"Well…" said the hobbit, putting on a cheerful face. "Minas Tirith. Very impressive. So where are we off to next?"

Balian smiled at Pippin's tactic. He doubted that it would work. As he had predicted, Gandalf looked at the hobbit incredulously. "Oh, it's too late for that now, Peregrin Took. Help must come to us."

The blacksmith prayed that it would come in time. Théoden had not seemed very enthusiastic about aiding Gondor. Now that he was here and could not leave, Balian decided to explore the legendary city. He told Gandalf so. "Care to come with me, Pippin?" he said. The hobbit should not dwell on such morbid things such as Mordor. They might as well make the best of their stay in Minas Tirith. It could very well be the last moments of their lives.

All around the city, people were preparing for war. Balian noted with delight the well-made trebuchets placed on the walls, although he would have preferred to have them behind the walls instead to give the war engines more protection. However, given the design of Minas Tirith, it was impossible to do so. Pippin was much more interested in the various food stalls on the streets, selling sweets, fruits and all sorts of little morsels. He spent much time examining them while Balian inspected the defences. It wasn't until it was dusk that they realized they should be heading back to the citadel. They found uniforms laid out for them in the one chamber that they shared. They included chainmail and a black surcoat with a white tree for Pippin and a suit of rather cumbersome armour for Balian.

"How am I supposed to fight in this?" said Balian as he clanked around the room. He could hardly move. It was much heavier than the armour that he was used to.

"You'll just have to get used to it," said Gandalf unsympathetically in between inhaling smoke and coughing at their ridiculousness. After all, the young blacksmith had foolishly offered his services to the Steward.

"You look very handsome in it, Balian," said Pippin sincerely. He was trying on his own armour and examining the miniature sword which came with it.

"Yes, too bad I can't woo the orcs instead of fight them," said Balian. It seemed that being with Legolas and Gimli had influenced him. Whether it was in a bad way or a good way, Gandalf could not decide.

"I suppose this is a ceremonial position," said Pippin, looking at his reflection in the mirror. "I mean, they don't expect me to do any fighting, do they?"

"You're in the service of the Steward," said Gandalf. "You'll have to do as you're told." The wizard coughed some more, muttering to himself. "Ridiculous hobbit," said the wizard to himself around the stem of his pipe. "Guard of the Citadel…"

Pippin poured the wizard a cup of water which Gandalf gratefully took.

"So what am I supposed to be?" said Balian. "I don't think they want me to replace a statue, even though I feel like one at the moment."

"You're to join the garrison in Osgiliath," said Gandalf. "Denethor himself commanded it. You'll be serving under Captain Faramir."

"Faramir? Isn't that…?"

"Yes. You'll be serving under Boromir's brother in one of the most dangerous places in Middle Earth. Consider this the payment for your debt."

A/N: Love it? Hate it? Have something to tell me? Please review! I'm on a high about PotC:AWE and I haven't even seen the movie yet. Hehe, Balian at Osgiliath…I know, it's evil but Denethor isn't feeling particularly benevolent towards him at the moment. I mean, he just admitted that he was the cause of Boromir's death.