Okay, so I know it's been a while since I've posted ANYTHING, but I promise, updates will become more frequent for most of my other stories. This chapter was sort of hard for me, working off what my friend Breggo13 wrote in the last chapter, but I think what I came up with was rather good.

Maybe you've noticed that I changes my username into something more "Lord of the Rings" style-nestaron kent. Nestaron is Jason in Elvish, so I suppose it fits, anyway.

Hopefully you guys will too. :)

Eldarion grimly wiped sweat from his forehead as he shoved his sword deep into the stomach of an Orc that was twice his size. He coughed, and his eyes darted to where Daina stood her ground, locked in battle with an Orc all her own. He gritted his teeth.

I made a promise. A promise not easily broken. I will redeem my city if it's the last thing I ever do.

He took Daina's knife off his belt and threw it in the Orc's direction. The perfect hit knocked him down, killing him before he even hit the dirt ground. Eldarion sprinted over to her.

"Are you all right?" She groaned and rolled her eyes.

"This is no time to be noble," the Ranger muttered. "We have larger problems." He turned, just as the mysterious soldiers approached them. The leader stepped down off his horse and studied Eldarion. He stood stiffly, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Who are you?" the leader asked. "Speak quickly." Eldarion opened his mouth, but closed it, changing his mind. He jerked his head towards Daina.

"We're peaceful travelers who were captured by…them," she said, her voice trembling. She subtly winked at Eldarion, who smirked. The leader turned his intense gaze to Eldarion once again and frowned slightly. The Prince's eyes widened and he quickly looked down, his heart thudding traitorously.

What if I am recognized? I could ruin everything.

"What are your names?" the leader, a man with dirty golden hair and a fierce expression, demanded. "From what land do you come?" Neither Eldarion nor Daina trusted the other to speak. "Speak, or I may not spare your lives." Eldarion swallowed, looking at his companion uneasily.

What do we do now?

Then he surprised himself and Daina by saying, "In circumstances such as this…the man with a greater advantage should reveal himself before demanding that of his lesser men." He spoke quietly, his voice even and calm, but he could tell, without looking up, that he had drawn more attention to himself that had been called for.

"You are educated," the leader said, stepping down off his mount. "And an educated man does not wander into the wood lightly, for there are many beasts of unpredictable nature that roam it. You are not here by choice." He studied Eldarion again, and let a small smile escape his features. "Young may you be…but are correct all the same." He took off his helmet and shook sweaty golden hair out of his face. "For I am Éomer, King of Rohan, Land of the Horse-Lords. And you, my friend, are no peasant. Take my hand." He extended it, and shaking from head to foot, Eldarion accepted it. Éomer also extended his hand to help Daina up, and to the Prince's surprise, she took it, smiling with disbelief etched onto her face.

Éomer, Eldarion thought. The brother of Lady Éowyn…of course, the King of Rohan! Why did I not see it before?

"Tell me," said Éomer, "What news from Minas Tirith?" Eldarion stood still, stunned by the revelation of whom the leader was that he did not notice Daina shiver and the older man's words. Éomer took one look at their faces and knew that the news would bode ill for them all. "What has happened?" Seemingly realizing where he was, the Prince opened his mouth.

"The city has fallen," he said quietly, his body shaking. "And it is all my fault. I could not see…not fast enough to save them…only survivors…caves…only hope." Eldarion covered his face with his hands, and was surprised beyond belief when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He slightly looked back at Daina, and could not comprehend the look on her face. Could it be…?

But now is not the time for such things. We are the only hope for my city. And I will carry on my father's legacy. I will not betray my people.

Eldarion breathed in heavily, his hunched shoulders straightening, the Prince standing tall. He smiled at the King of Rohan.

"I am Eldarion Telcontar, son of King Elessar of Gondor," he said, his face solemn. "And I will protect my city no matter the cost," he added quietly, his proud smile quickly fading.

"The people of Rohan are in your debt, Prince Eldarion of Gondor," Éomer said, a smile playing on his lips, despite the grim circumstances. "We will do what needs to be done."

"I know not what to ask, my Lord," Eldarion said. "You are the King of your people. I do not demand their service, for it is not in my power to command them. Nevertheless…in the last war…we both came to the aid of the other." He took a deep, shaky breath. "I humbly ask for us to unite under one banner to save those who remain." The thought of his mother brought hot tears to his eyes, and he felt them slide down his grimy cheek. "And to mourn those who do not."

"Indeed," said Éomer, giving the command to the Riders who accompanied him. "We will take up the call. The Son of Gondor has given the command, both honestly and rightly." He gave Eldarion a strange look, one that the Prince thought held pity and sympathy. He leaned in closer to him. "You shall not worry, Eldarion. Aragorn's city will not fall on his watch…he will not let darkness take over what he worked so hard to make right."

"But, my Lord…what is there to be done…that has not been done already?" he asked, a sad, wide-eyed look making him ten years younger than he was. "We have already descended into darkness. There is no hope left for those who remain. It is over."

"Your destiny lies in the Elven dwellings of Rivendell, Prince Eldarion," the King said. "It has already been written. There you will learn…and there you will remain, unless you decide otherwise. The time will soon approach for you to choose where you belong…and where you will make your stand. Your last stand, if you so choose." He motioned to a Rider, who brought two riderless steeds forward. "You have the blessing of our country…and our service."

"Thank you," said a soft voice that Eldarion realized belonged to Daina. "You are not in Gondor's debt…they are now in yours. We will ride to Rivendell." She lightly swung her legs onto the horse that resembled her old friend, Runshaw, ruthlessly murdered as good sport. Eldarion heaved himself up onto the light brown one and patted his mane.

You'll do well, my friend. I can feel your goodness.

He turned back to Éomer. "She speaks the truth," he said with a smile. "You are in our debt no longer…we are in yours."

"There is no need, Son of Elessar," the King of Rohan said gently. "Godspeed on your quest."

"Thank you."

With that, Daina pulled on the reins and her steed galloped off through the trees. Eldarion was a second behind her, and gaining. They rode off into the trees…and past them, unsure about what might come in the future…but sure that they would get through it…as long as they were together.

As they set up camp later that night, Eldarion cast a wary eye at Daina, a deep feeling of unease settling in the pit of his stomach.

Why do I feel like something's wrong?

He rubbed his hands together and sat down in front of the fire, staring into the blazing flames. His eyes followed the young Ranger's slim figure and found himself marveling at her eyes that were as clear as the sky on a warm summer's day, and silently scolded himself.

Get a handle on yourself, Eldarion, the Prince told himself. You can't afford to do this.

He closed his eyes just as another body moved to sit next to his. He opened his eyes again and found Daina's face inches from his. He slightly moved away, as not to make either of them feel awkward.

"You did well back there," he admitted. "I thought we were done for." She slightly smiled, though Eldarion could tell something else was troubling her. "What is it?"

"What's what?" she asked, her voice immediately turning cold again. But he convinced himself that he must have imagined it, because the next second, Daina was rolling her eyes. "You're shivering, your Highness," she mocked, and Eldarion glared at her. She smiled and took his hands in hers. "Put them over the fire." But her voice didn't sound nearly as strong as it had before. The Prince made no effort to take his pale hands out of her grasp, and he smiled into the dark, knowing that Daina could not see it.

"I'm sorry for everything I've put you through," Eldarion whispered into her ear, hearing her uneven breaths and feeling them on his neck. "I never-"

"I know," she admitted, her voice low and dejected. "Neither of us…" He nodded slowly.

"…ever wanted…" he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, his lips mere inches from hers.

"…this…" Daina said softly, her voice slightly trembling as he leaned in closer to her. Eldarion's lips captured the young Ranger's in a gentle kiss full of sorrow, passion, and the smallest glimmer of hope. He closed his eyes as their kiss continued, not disturbed by the slight sounds of birds in the wild or wind rustling through the trees. Daina broke away from him, looking away, her face flushed.

"I'm sorry," Eldarion said immediately, sliding away from her. "I shouldn't have-" But she smiled.

"That one was for real…wasn't it?" she asked quietly, her hand brushing over his. "Not some trick of the dark." The Prince shook his head.

"No," he admitted, a hint of desperation in his calm voice.

It was as real as it gets.

"Eldarion…" He looked up in surprise as Daina said his name with a tenderness he hadn't heard before. "We…should get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day." He nodded silently and stood up, walking over to his blankets. He lay down, closing his eyes, and he sighed.

Without Daina's warm body beside him, coldness washed over Eldarion's thin figure and he shivered.

Always believe in the impossible, he thought dryly. But Rivendell is waiting…I dare not dwell here for too long.

"But Lord Aragorn-" an exasperated voice protested. "We're done, my Lord. There isn't any hope." Faramir closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, looking up at the King.

It has been long since we had any hope, he thought sadly, lightly touching the cave wall.

"I know that there is not much left," Aragorn said quietly. "But if there is a possibility at all…that there are others…"

"You know as well as I that Eldarion is gone, old friend," Faramir said gently. "Not gone from this Earth…but gone. If he is not here, he will be safe. Unless there's a way…but no…it's impossible." The King straightened up and eyed his friend.

"What's impossible?" he asked slowly. The Steward shook his head.

"I must be imagining things," Faramir said with a hollow laugh. "But I could have sworn-" He looked behind him, as if he was expecting Eldarion to appear out of the wall. "Never mind."

"It can happen to the best of us," Aragorn said, staring at the vastness of the damp and cold caves. "Sometimes at the worst of times."

"Always," the Steward muttered, to himself more than the King. Faramir felt a hand tug at his worn tunic and bent down, looking into his son's wide hazel eyes. "Elboron," he said quietly, brushing golden-brown hair out of the boy's face. "What are you doing here?" The seven-year-old looked down at his shoes.

"I…I…wished to ask a question, Father," he said quietly, with maturity beyond his years. Faramir smiled and nodded. "Can people communicate…through the means of another?" Aragorn frowned and looked at the Steward, who shrugged his shoulders. The King looked at the boy with his intense blue-grey eyes.

"Not directly, Elboron," he said, bending in front of the boy as well. "But many of us wish to think that it were true."

"My Lord…if it were through…a dream…would it be possible?" he asked hesitantly. Aragorn ruffled the boy's hair and smiled.

"If it was intentional, I believe not," he said quietly. "But there are those…whose dreams are as real as anything else. Why do you ask such questions? It is not suited for your age, young one."

"Gilraen had a dream," he blurted out, unable to hold it in. "About Eldarion." Aragorn swallowed, not trusting himself to hope. Yes, he had had dreams about his son as well…but he knew that his daughter, as wise as she was fair…could tell the difference between dreams…and reality. And if Gilraen thought something was important…it was. He took Elboron's hand.

"Come," Aragorn said. "We will talk with her." Faramir slowly followed his son and his King deeper into the caves, where he knew many questions had the potential to be answered.

What did you think? I'm sorry to say that if you didn't like this chapter, I wrote it, so complain to me. But if you did like it, and hopefully you did, please tell me-it makes me want to write more, and quickly.

As you can probably tell, there is a lot of AU going on here, and there WILL be even more in the coming chapters.

Me and Breggo13 (fine, Breggo13 and I) have come to an agreement for the end of the story, and are collaborating on it as I type.

Just one question for the readers (you guys)- I've written an epilogue, but should it be posted under this same story, or should it be posted as a separate story, sort of like a sequel?

Thanks in advance (and Breggo13 says hi)

-Nestaron (Jason)