As she rode through Osgiliath, Meremir felt a sense of awe. emWhat must this place have looked like it in its prime?/em she wondered. It was a ruin now, its buildings pitted and scorched, towers crumbling. There were piles of bodies waiting to be burned, corpses of orcs and goblins. Men in armor were moving about, tending the wounded and carrying the dead to mass graves. When one noticed her pass, they would clap their fist to their chest or salute her; she would nod and they'd go back to their business.
She finally spotted her brothers among the other men. They were drinking ale and laughing; the sight of them brought a smile to her face. She dismounted quickly and handed the reins to one of the soldiers who'd escorted her. She walked towards her brothers, her face serious now. They finally noticed her, and the laughs died from their faces as she approached. She spoke, "I am displeased."
"How so, sister?" asked Faramir.
"You have reclaimed only half of the city. I wish Osgiliath to be whole before I make it my home."
Faramir exchanged a glance with Boromir. Boromir burst. "Do you realize how hard it is-"
She couldn't contain herself any longer. "I only jest, my brothers!" She laughed. "My real displeasure is that you have begun the drinking without me!"
The two men finally laughed, and Faramir said, "Your jokes get worse with each passing day, Meremir." He handed her a mug filled with ale. "For a moment you had us believing you had become like Father."
"Oh, never."
"Where is Father? Did he ride with you?"
"No, I left him far behind. You know it makes his back ache to ride quickly, and he still had some things to see to before he can come visiting. I say you still have about thirty minutes until he arrives."
"Oh, good," Boromir said. "More ale for us." He smiled.
"I hear you two deported yourselves courageously during the battle." Meremir sipped the ale, savoring its sour taste.
"Is there any other way to fight when you know there is a beautiful woman at home anxiously awaiting your return so that you may trade jests and drink ale together?"
"Of course not." They laughed and talked about the battle. Meremir said, "Remember this day, brothers, for today, life is good." Suddenly, the sounds of battle grew in their ears, and they turned toward them to find the other men running towards the far side of the city. Boromir and Faramir dropped their mugs and picked up their weapons, and then began following the other men. Meremir followed as well, until Boromir stopped and said, "No, you must stay back. I will not risk my beloved sister being killed by these monsters."
"My life is my own, Boromir," she replied.
"Your life is mine to protect, and protect it I will. Father would have my head if I let you die."
"We waste time arguing here. Run, and do not worry about me." Boromir seemed to have more to say, but he turned and ran again, and Meremir followed, although more slowly. She was no fool to rush into battle unarmed.
A hundred orcs had sprung up from hidden tunnels beneath the city and had taken the nearby soldiers by surprise. The soldiers lay dead or dying as the men from the rest of the city rushed in to kill the orcs. Meremir watched Boromir kill one, then two orcs, then a third. She stopped counting when she noticed three break away from the rest and begin to run toward her. She looked around desperately for a sword; she grabbed up a notched one just before the first orc reached her.
It blocked her first blow, but she had been taught by her brothers, and she knocked its sword aside and stabbed it through the chest. Then she parried a blow from the second orc, but the tip of its sword caught her dress, ripping it and cutting her leg. She gasped but retained her composure, swiftly decapitating it. The third was dispatched almost as easily as the first two; then she turned to see if any others were coming to attack her. Most were dead now, overwhelmed by the Gondorian soldiers, but a few were still fighting, including the ones around Boromir. She headed in his direction; then she saw an orc approach his blind side.
"Boromir!" she screamed. He beheaded his opponent and turned to look at her – and then was stabbed through the chest by the orc she was trying to warn him of. "NO!" she screamed again, and ran to him. She cut off the orc's head before he had a chance to turn around, then she dropped her sword and fell to her knees beside her eldest brother. Her mind could process only one thought, Not again, not again. His eyes were wide and staring, and he was barely breathing. "No, no, no," she murmured, tears falling from her eyes.
"Do not cry, my sister," he whispered. He struggled to breathe again.
"You are dying, and it is my fault."
"No, this is life. This is my fate."
"I do not want this." She sobbed and caressed his face.
"You must be strong now, Meremir. For Faramir; for Father. Father will do what you say; you know this. Lead this land to peace."
She sniffed. "I will. There will be peace, and joy. I will not let our country fall into ruin, nor our people fail."
"Good-bye, dear one." His hand brushed a tear from her cheek, then fell; he was dead. She wept bitterly, her head upon his rent chest, his blood staining her clothes, her dark hair covering his face.
Faramir joined her, standing behind her as she wept. Then he bent down and gently pulled her away from Boromir's still form. She buried her face in his chest as he rocked her, stroking her hair. Then he said, "Father is coming, Meremir. A soldier saw his entourage coming this way; he will be here in a few minutes. You must make yourself presentable to him. We also need to move Boromir somewhere away from the rest of the bodies." She nodded and stood, wiping her eyes on the hem of her sleeve. Then she ordered a couple uninjured soldiers to move Boromir's body to an empty room in one of the buildings.
She took a step towards a well, intending to revive herself with water, but as soon as her foot touched the ground, a lance of pain shot up her leg and she cried out. Faramir steadied her as she swayed, then lowered her onto a large piece of rubble. He lifted her skirt enough to see the wound on her calf; he cursed himself for not noticing. A soldier handed him a skin of brandy, with which he cleansed the cut. He wrapped a clean white bandage around it, then held her hand as she stood and tested it again.
"I can still use it," she said. "I'll be fine." He nodded and left to help move bodies. She made it to the well and pulled up a bucket of water. She washed her face and hands of blood and fixed her hair. She stared at her reflection for a while, searching for a sign of what she'd lost by the death of her brother. All she saw was a sadness in her eyes, a deep, deep sadness. She straightened and smoothed out her dress. She supposed it could have been worse; it could have been both her brothers dead, and Faramir her younger twin. At that moment she heard the jingle of tack and turned to see her father, Denethor, Steward of Gondor, ride into Osgiliath.
"Hail, Father," she said with a bow. "Welcome to Osgiliath."
"Hail, my daughter," he replied as he dismounted. "Welcome indeed." Then he noticed the rip in her dress. "Your dress is torn." He looked closer. "And your leg is wounded. Did you go into battle?"
"Orcs attacked from hidden tunnels beneath the city. Boromir and Faramir ran off to fight them. I was standing away from the battle, observing, when three orcs broke off and ran to me. I fought them off, with but a small wound. It is nothing."
"Your brothers should have protected you. Where are they?"
"Here," Faramir answered. "I thought she was safe with Boromir, for he stopped her a few yards away from battle. But alas, I was wrong."
"And Boromir, where is he? What is his answer for allowing hurt to befall his sister?"
"Boromir was facing many foes of his own when the three attacked me," Meremir answered. "He would have protected me had he been able to escape his own. He was stabbed through the chest by the last of his foes. I killed the orc that killed my brother."
Denethor looked shocked. "Boromir is dead? My son is dead? Show me!" Meremir led the way to the room where Boromir's body lay. Denethor let out a cry at the sight of his son's body. "My son! My first born son is dead! Dark is this day!"
They brought Boromir's body back to Minas Tirith, where they buried him with the other stewards. Then Denethor retired to his rooms, and Faramir and Meremir stood at the edge of the courtyard, looking over Gondor and down to Osgiliath. "Remember this day, little brother," she said. He put his arm around her shoulder.
As she slept that night, she dreamed again. It was the same as before, with Isildur's Bane being found and the halfling that carried it. When she woke, she wrapped herself in her dressing gown and crossed the hall to her twin's room. Faramir stood at his window, staring at the full moon; Meremir stayed at the door. "You had the dream again," Faramir said.
"Aye, and you as well," Meremir replied. She came to Faramir's side and also stared at the moon. Then she said, "I believe I should go to Rivendell and ask Lord Elrond of our dream."
He turned to look at her. "Are you mad? If Father lets you go, and if Elrond can explain our dream, and if Isildur's Bane is truly found again, you know Father would have you find it, take from whoever had it, and bring back to Gondor. That would be madness. Father will never let you go anyway."
"Do you think I have no will of my own? And do you think also that Father will not do what I say? He loves me, you know this, and I have a power over him that he does not realize. He will do what I say, and he will let me go. I will ask Elrond of our dream, but I will not bring Isilsur's Bane to Gondor."
He put his hands on her shoulders. "If this is something born out of grief over Boromir, I would not have you do it."
"This does not concern Boromir, only in that it was his dream as well. Father talked of sending Boromir to Rivendell anyway, and so I will just be suggesting an alternative. For now, I am the eldest, the first-born."
"I would still not have you do it, for there are many dangers upon the road."
She smiled. "I have been taught to protect myself by the best swordsmen and archers I have ever known. I will be fine."
He sighed. "You have bested all my arguments. I suppose you must go, then. When will you leave?"
"At first light, in a few hours' time."
"Shall I help you prepare, then?"
"I would appreciate it. While I dress, will you take a pack down to the kitchens and get provisions?"
"Certainly." He gave her a quick hug before leaving the room. Meremir crossed the hall again, this time to Boromir's former room. Her smile from before faded as her eyes slid across the empty bed, meticulously made up. She opened his wardrobe and took out the clothes she required. Then she took off her dressing gown; underneath it she had on leggings and a tunic. Over that, she put on soft leather leggings and a thin, padded leather shirt. Then on went one of Boromir's riding breeches and tunics; his belt she strapped around her waist, pulling it tighter than he had ever worn it. She pulled her own boots on, then strapped his leather greaves and bracers to her shins and forearms.
She examined herself in the polished silver mirror on his wall. She had the thought that it was good she was tall, or else her brother's clothes would have swallowed her outright. As it was, they looked a little baggy, but it hid her form, and predators, both human and otherwise, would be less likely to attack a man than a woman. Or at least, she imagined they would be. There was one problem: her hair was longer than any man's would be. She took Boromir's hunting knife from its sheath, took a deep breath, and then began to cut her hair just above her shoulders. Faramir entered the room halfway through and startled her by saying, "What are you doing?"
Meremir gasped and the knife jerked, making a long, uneven cut in her hair. She regained her composure and said, "I'm making myself look like a man so that I am not taken advantage of on the road."
Faramir came up behind her and took the knife from her hands, correcting and finishing her hair as he said, "That is a wise thing, sister. You have done well in disguising yourself." He put the knife back in its sheath as she ran her hands through her newly shorn hair. "The pack of food is on the bed. You're still missing a few things, though." He picked up Boromir's sword, which was in its sheath on its belt. "You'll need this, both to protect yourself and as a memory of our brother." He strapped the belt around her hips with sword hanging to her right, for she was left-handed. Then he picked up a red fur-lined cape and hood, throwing it over her shoulders and clasping it around her neck with a simple metal brooch. "There," he said, stepping back. "Now you are a man. Do not forget your true identity, however. I packed extra clothing for you as well, for when you are in Rivendell; you will be a woman again among the elves."
"Thank you, Faramir." She hugged him, then grabbed the pack and walked down the hallway to her father's rooms. She knocked on his door; after a moment, his haggard voice drifted through the door: "Come in." She stepped in and shut the door behind her. "Yes, who is it?" Denethor asked, his back to her.
"It's I, Meremir."
He turned. "Meremir? You are dressed as a man for travel. What is the meaning of this?"
"I am going to journey to Imladris, Father, to ask Elrond his advice of our dream that Faramir and I had, and that which Boromir had, before he was taken from us."
"You would do this? But you will be set upon, attacked on your way to Rivendell."
"I know how to defend myself, Father. My brothers taught me well."
Denethor then stood and approached her. "There are rumors that the weapon of the Enemy has been found."
"Yes, that is our dream, Father. That is why I must go to Rivendell. I would have your blessing upon my journey."
"You have my blessing, as long as you bring me Isildur's Bane, so that we may use it to defeat our Enemy, who have long attacked our borders and just today took our Boromir."
"I will not bring it, Father. It is evil, and I would not have our family caught up in its evil."
"I would not use it immediately, only at our greatest need, when all other hope of victory has failed. We could have our revenge upon Sauron for taking so many loved ones from us. Revenge for the death of Boromir; revenge for the death of Cuthalion." He looked for a reaction to the last name, but if it affected her, she did not show it.
"No, Father. I will see what it is, and I will see how it will affect our fate, but I will not bring it here. Do not ask that of me."
He sighed. "Very well. You have my blessing; go to Rivendell, get the advice you seek, but know that you will be making a mistake if you do not take Isildur's Bane for Gondor." He turned and sat back down in his chair. She left the room, finally allowing the tears to leak from her eyes that she'd been holding back since he'd said "Cuthalion".
Faramir met her in the courtyard, her horse's reins in hand. She smiled at him. "Thank you for saddling Firewind for me, brother," she said.
He smiled back. "It saved you time. Plus, I didn't particularly want to be anywhere near Father when you told him no."
She laughed. "He did take it rather badly. He almost didn't give me his blessing for the journey." Her laugh faded, and her face grew grave. "He used Cuthalion in his argument, Faramir. He said I could have revenge for his death, and Boromir's too, if I brought Isildur's Bane back to Gondor."
"Oh, Meremir. What a coward he is, to strike you a blow like that! Do not believe him. Do not bring it here. It will do far more harm than the little good it might do." He pulled her into a hug, then kissed her cheek. She strapped her pack to the saddle, then mounted. "Ride swiftly, sister. Do not stop for idle fancy, and never let your guard down. Sleep with one eye open and both ears listening."
"I will, brother." She stroked his face, then kissed her fingers and placed them on his lips. "I love you. Don't let Father order you around too much."
"I love you too." She grabbed the reins and steered the horse away, through the gate and down through the levels of Minas Tirith. When she reached the main gate and enterd the open field, she turned back. At the edge of the courtyard, she could barely make out a small figure standing there. She raised her arm in farewell, and she imagined she saw the figure raise his arm as well. Then she turned towards the Gap of Rohan, urged her horse to a gallop, and didn't look back.