Asterin sought true solitude, the kind; unfortunately, she could not now find. Her mind was still far away, back in her friend's home at Imladris.
The diplomatic meetings were perhaps the worst part of her job, standing in a room, clearing, or courtyard for hours upon hours that seemed unending. The heat pressed down around her, stifling, sweltering heat. In front of her, Thranduil sat seemingly in a daze as Lord Celeborn talked, appearing as bored as she currently felt. Her bow hung in her hand, the wood smooth in her hand, her fingers tracing paths across the dark wood, "the Dunedian patrol the land west of the misty mountains that the guards of Imladris do not cover. But within the mountains, a force of goblins holds the mountain mines of Moria," Asterin glanced at Elwing for some semblance of entertainment only to see her friend engrossed in what Lord Celeborn was saying. Heaving a heavy yet silent sigh of frustration, she settled in for the long meeting, her mind drifting into the land of nothingness. Having sunk into a trance, the rest of the meeting passed quickly, but she failed to pick up any of the remaining information presented during the meeting. As everyone filed out, she passed Elwing grinning at her friend, tilting her head to the side to meet her friend's eyes. "What do you think we should do about the goblins in Moria," Asterin looked at her with an apologetic grin saying. "Elwing, you really expected me to know what just happened, I'm a guard, not a diplomat." Her friend rolled her, "fine, I'll go discuss tactics with Thranduil then." Her friend increased the speed of her stride, and Asterin called out, "I don't think he really wants to talk to you." Her friend snapped back, "oh, he will," shaking with laughter, she sped up, catching up with Elwing.
Making her way up into the Hall of the Kings, she moved inside easily, passing the guards at the door. Moving through the pillars, she approached the tall figure towards the back of the hall, "Lady Eowyn," the woman turned to face her, and Asterin offered the slightest hint of a bow. The Lady waved it off as she stood beside her, resting her hand on the pommel of her sword. Standing in silence, the pair were lost in thoughts until Eowyn spoke, "do you ever worry for your home." Asterin looked down at her sword, wincing, "yes, in some ways, Mirkwood holds similarities to Gondor. For our borders are in line with those of the dark fortress Dol Guldur, and I worry that what I come home to will be nothing like what I left."
Eowyn couldn't meet her eyes, so Asterin asked, "why are the women of this country not allowed to fight?" Eowyn lifted her head, shrugging her shoulders, and Asterin could see the frustration glinting in the woman's eyes, "it has always been this way, even after the women of this country learned that those without swords can still die upon them." She lifted the Lady's chin looking her in the eyes and saying, "how would you like to learn to fight properly." Handing her the knife she'd hidden in her boot, she drew one of her own knives and stepped back, "what are we waiting for," Eowyn's smile had her grinning herself as she began her first lesson, she always taught her guards. "So, let's begin then."
Elwing saw the walls of the city towering far above the plains on which they rode, "Minas Tirith." Relief coursed through her for the last five days she had been on guard, waiting for an attack to come, waiting for something to come for them. The white city towered over her as they approached, and she murmured to her horse, who had galloped for five days, "nearly there, my friend." Pippin looked up in awe as the gates creaked open, and they rode through Elwing, patting Farsha's neck gently while they made their way up the first level of the city, making their way up to the citadel. Dismounting on the fourth level, she made her way around the city through the fifth and sixth levels emerging in the citadel alongside her two companions, the white tree of Gondor now within her sight.
The once beautiful tree was now withered and limp, and there were no flowers atop the branches. Pippin ran in front of her, going up to tug on Gandalf's cloak, "the tree Gandalf it's," the wizard cut him off, and Elwing glanced at the guards who stood silently around the tree, shields, and spears in hand. "The Lord Denethor is Boromir's father; to give him news of his beloved son's death would be most unwise." She placed a hand on Pippin's shoulder, "and do not mention Frodo, the ring, or Aragorn." Elwing met Gandalf's eyes, silently agreeing to do all of the talking, "in fact," the wizard said, "it would probably be wise not to speak at all, Peragrin Took." Elwing looked up at the guards who had begun to open the doors and unknowingly placed her hand on the hilt of her sword. She glanced at Gandalf, who stepped forward, and she followed Pippin behind her as they approached the steward of Gondor.
"Hail Denethor, son of Acthelion, Lord, and Steward of Gondor." Elwing stood silent behind him but noticed something that did not bode well for their arrival. The horn of Gondor split clean in halves lay in the man's lap, the horn that Boromir had brought to Imladris the last time she had seen him. "We come with tidings in this dark hour and with council." She stepped forward, "we come with word from Rohan and from my homeland of Imladris." The man raised his head, anger and grief running rampant across his expression, "perhaps you've come to explain this." Lifting the halves of the horn of Gondor, he asked, "perhaps you have come to explain why my son is dead." At this, Elwing had naught to say, for neither she nor Gandalf had been at the battle at Amon Hen, but Pippin spoke up, "Boromir died to save us," standing before the steward, the young hobbit bowed his head, "my kinsman and me."
Elwing quickly snapped, "Pippin," but he did not listen and continued to talk, "he fell defending us from many foes." Dropping to a knee, Pippin said, "I offer you my service, such as it is, in payment of this debt." Elwing glared downward at the kneeling hobbit as Denethor spoke, "this is my first command to you; how did you escape and my son did not, so mighty a man as he was?"
"Even the mightiest man may be slain by one arrow, and Boromir was pierced by many." Gandalf sighed in frustration, muttering, "get up," his staff lightly whacking Pippin as he stepped forward, "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," Elwing spoke as well, seeing where Mithrandir was going with this asking, "Where are Gondor's armies?" the glare that the Steward sent her way made her fingers itch for the feel of a sword in their grasp, but she restrained herself staying silent when Mithrandir spoke, "you still have friends. You are not alone in this fight, send word to Théoden of Rohan, light the beacons." With a look that would have sent chills down her spine had she not seen so many similar ones before the Steward began to speak, and Elwing's breath froze in her chest.
"You think you are wise, Mithrandir, yet for all your subtleties, you have no 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 usurp me. I know who rides with Théoden of Rohan, 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 since unworthy of lordship," Elwing snapped, speaking out in a loud and clear tone that demanded the man's attention.
"You have not the authority to deny the return of the King Steward," spitting out the last word as though it were the vile speech of Mordor, she glared back at Denethor, who quailed at the ferocity in her gaze before growling out. "Rule of Gondor is mine." Elwing stepped forward, her hand laying comfortably on the hilt of her sword as she stated clearly and confidently the power behind her voice, something that surprised even her. "Your rule is tedious, you have not the power that is wielded by the heir of Isildur, the rightful ruler, and your king." Turning on her heel, she marched for the doors calling over her shoulder, "now, if you refuse to defend this city, then I will."
Striding swiftly out of the hall, she left behind the Steward and her compatriots far behind. Making her way to the city's garrison, she decided then and there that this city would not fall, not while she still drew breath. Learning of the white city, she found weaknesses and strengths; building her plan around them, she made her way around the city's walls, meeting the men who she may later command in battle. The sun rose and fell as she took in the city she would defend to her dying breath if the need arose. As the sun sank under the horizon, she ascended the city once more, making her way to the room she found due to a guard who seemed less than fond of his Steward. Dropping her cloak onto the bed, she moved to the balcony looking out over the riverside town of Osgiliath, her eyes looking over the small city.
Her mind already on the next day, she knew that someone somehow would have to light the beacons to call for the aid of Rohan. But without the support of the Steward, it would be difficult, to say the least; her gaze moved to the tower that held the beacon of Minas Tirith. Then a blinding flash of light stole her attention, and her instincts told her where this pillar of magic came from. Minas Morgul.
Trying to calm her racing heart, Elwing grasped the cool stone of the balcony smooth under her fingers. Breathing deeply, she found her rhythm once more before racing out of the room and down the hall; she threw open the door she knew to be the one to her companions, meeting the gaze of Gandalf and saying. "They are coming."