Hi all! Hope you like this chapter...

But now I feel like this story's too short! Oh well...try to figure out how to make it longer. :D

Enjoy, plus review!

~littledragoneyes

Chapter 5:

Citizens looked on sadly as Faramir led the group of men on to take back Osgiliath, though the outcome was definitely not going to be good. Some of the women gently tossed flowers to their feet, the city quiet.

As Faramir was nearing, an old man carrying a white staff pushed through the crowd, saying, "Faramir, Faramir! Your father's will is turned to madness. Do not throw away your life so rashly."

"Where does my allegiance lie if not here?" Faramir asked quietly. He continued on. "This is the city of the Men of Númenor. I will gladly give my life to defend her beauty, her memory, her wisdom."

"Your father loves you, Faramir." The old man followed him, and then stopped. "He will remember it before the end."

Faramir passed me, and I gave him a weak smile, hoping that maybe it would support his spirits. "Good luck." I whispered only for him to know. He returned with a knowing gaze.

Instantly after I raced up to a balcony, a high one, away from the crowd that gathered around the lower balconies. I wanted to see what happened, and know if he was alright or not.

The cavalry formed a line facing Osgiliath. It was a might thin and small one, compared to Mordor. Only a few lines, and that was it. I worried, now. Were they going to be alright?

In Osgiliath, orcs were probably readying themselves for the charge, and...then the charge began.

Racing forward to meet their doom.

I bit my lip. I knew how Gothmog would do it. He told me all about it, boasting and bragging, that ugly, mutated brute. He was the meanest and most brutal orc that I've met, and I know many. Brutally, cruelly and wouldn't dare to stop until finished.

I could almost hear the creak of wood as every bow was bent. Gothmog's favorite strategy. Shoot, kill, then take out swords, stab, slash, swipe and then kill. And then laugh. I still remember what he told me.

Then they fired the arrows, and I looked away in horror and disgust, but I knew that many, many went down.

A bell tolled somewhere in the city, and Gondor was quiet. Across the river bridge in Osgiliath, trolls were pushing siege towers towards Minas Tirith. I leaned against the wall, feeling extremely sick. What had I done? I helped create those...towers with my father with Saruman. I trained those specific trolls to help fight. I trained those fell beasts to attack and kill. I trained all of those things, created all of those things, and look at what they're doing right now.

Shoulders slumped, I could feel despair rising in the city and in me as well. Was there anything I could do to help...?

Maybe there was.

In my room, I paced back and forth, half-staring at my arm, hoping it would heal. I flopped onto the bed and glared at it. "C'mon, go faster!" I hurried it.

It didn't go faster, though.

Why couldn't things heal faster? Damn, why wasn't I a stupid elf? They healed fast.

Outside, a large army of Orcs was approaching Minas Tirith, fast. As trolls pushed those siege towers forward, drums were pounded loudly. It was a typical sound for me, because I hear it everyday back in Mordor, but a sound of dread for others.

I paced near the windows, and subconsciously glanced out the window, and saw a horse dragging a body towards the gate. I raised my eyebrows. Some horse, smart enough to walk straight back.

But I took a second glance and did a double take on who was being dragged by the stirrup on the ground.

I raced downstairs, and into the courtyard, as fast as I could without tripping down the stairs over the hem of my gown.

Irolas, an officer of Gondor, approached behind me.

Denethor ran out to Faramir, who was lying on a stretcher, motionless and pale. My stomach gave me gut-wrenching feel, and I felt sick. The soldiers set the stretcher down near the white tree.

"Faramir? Say not that he has fallen." Denethor pleaded as he knelt besides his son.

"They were outnumbered. None survived." Irolas said apologetically.

My eyes widened.None survived? Say what?

"My sons are spent." Denethor was close to crying. He stepped away from his son, and the same little man I saw earlier when Denethor was treating Faramir harshly knelt by the Steward's son.

"My line has ended!" Denethor cried. He was definitely going hysterical.

"He's alive!" The little person said loudly, after examining him. My eyes lit up. Really?

Yet Denethor didn't hear him. "The house of Stewards has failed!"

"He needs medicine my lord!"

I sighed, and walked towards Faramir and the little man. Hopefully I remembered a thing or two from what Daerua had taught me about identifying dead or alive bodies.

"My line has ended!" Denethor kept saying over and over again.

"Here." I said quietly, kneeling besides him, and placed a hand gently over Faramir's nose and mouth, feeling carefully for signs of breath, and then checked for a pulse on his neck. There was, actually, a very faint heartbeat, to my fingertips and relief. Then I kept going. It did seem that he was alive.

"Faramir's still alive!" I called over my shoulder.

Did he listen?

Nah, why not?

Somehow Denethor had wandered towards the edge of the courtyard, and looked down. And saw the massive orc army heading straight for Minas Tirith. Fear instantly replaced the look of grief on his face.

"My lord!" The little man besides me called.

Then I heard crashing sounds, the sounds of rock hitting rock. I winced, and closed my eyes. They already started to use the catapults. I remember making those too.

Damn.

"Abandon your posts! Flee! Flee for you lives!" Denethor suddenly shouted.

The soldiers looked uneasily at each other. I stared at him. What was he thinking?

But suddenly, faster than I could see, the same old man with the white staff appeared besides him, annoyance written all over his face. He whacked Denethor over the head, knocking him out, before giving the command, "Prepare for battle."

I grinned. I kinda like that guy.

So now I wasn't allowed to fight. That's just crap. Instead, I lay on my bed, waiting for the war to be over. But at least my gown was off and I was wearing familiar tunic, leggings and boots.

Actually, I didn't care anymore. I already found my bow and arrows and my sword in the weaponry, clean and polished. How very nice of them. And they were by my side. So if Orcs came, I could just fight them. Who cares?

"Pull them in! To the wall! Defend the wall! Return to your posts!" Gandalf, that old man with the white staff, was shouting orders. I could hear him from up here.

Oh, how I wished to be fighting. I peered out the window, pulling back the shade, and saw destruction.

Lots of lots of lots of lots of destruction.

I was feeling guilt all over me. Part of this was my fault. Maybe if I paid attention to the outside world a bit more, tried to understand Sauron when I was sneaking into his councils a bit more, maybe I wouldn't have made those things or bred those beasts.

I could feel the vibrations as rocks hit rocks of the city, dangerously killing people and destroying parts of buildings. Thankfully mine was higher up, so I guess I was okay for now.

For now.

But something drew my attention.

A familiar screech.

A Nazgul shriek!

No other thing makes a sound like that! I bolted out of my room, taking my bow and arrow and sword and strapping it on quickly. My arm was fine, I didn't care about it, even though it was still broken, but slung in a strap.

Women, men and children screamed as fell beasts swooped down low over them, frantically trying to find a hiding spot that wouldn't be destroyed or was already destroyed. I nearly tripped on a stone in my way.

"OI!" I shouted, waving my arms. I recognized that fell beast to be Averth. "AVERTH! DOWN HERE!"

They didn't hear me.

Oh well.

Cursing, I ran to a wall, not exactly be aware of my surroundings, but almost immediately backed away when I saw a siege tower about to lower the plank and let the orcs in. I frowned, and tried to think of a way to take them down. Didn't my father always tell me to make them so that they could be strong, but always have a weak point? Because everything has a weak point.

But shit, I don't remember what it was!

Too late, the orcs surged towards me. I held my sword at ready, and shouted, "I AM FAY EVARGENT, YOU STUPID USELESS - "

Yeah, that really worked.

They didn't hear me, because they were that stupid. I kept cursing because of my arm and the constant stabs of pain. Fighting with one arm was definitely a disadvantage, and I pulled away into a safe corner, sure that no Orcs bother to check the very inside of a closet.

I took a shaky breath. I couldn't fight with a broken arm. It had to heal. Like, right now. Or else I had to take it off. But I didn't want to.

I closed my eyes and swallowed several times. I could hear the orcs chanting, "Grond! Grond! Grond! Grond! Grond! Grond!" over and over again. They had taken out the wolf's head. Damnit.

Yet I don't know how long I stayed in that closet, trying to get ready. It must've been an hour, because night had fallen. I wanted to make sure that the Orcs wouldn't be around to see me. No need to capture Fay now, back to Mordor.

No way in hell am I going back to Mordor.

I stepped out. I needed Torn. Right now, or else.

I wandered around, more of pacing back and forth, thinking of a way to attract any fell beast. They were my weapon.

That is, I was thinking until I heard that little man's voice. Peregrin Took, Pippin for short.

He was calling for Gandalf.

That meant that something was wrong.

Very wrong.

Wasn't it always?

"Gandalf, Gandalf!" I heard his worried shout. "Gandalf!"

Rushing into the scene, I searched for Pippin.

"Pippin!" I yelled. We had talked to each other, and I learned that he was a hobbit. Now I want to visit the Shire. "Pippin!"

I couldn't find that short, little hobbit! Cursing, I wondered why they had to be so small. It made it harder to find, and I was constantly searching for short people now. There were lots of short people, considering that poor little children were crying for their mothers, lost in the busy streets.

"Pippin!" I shouted.

Then I found him.

"Pippin!" I yelled again over the noise. He looked around, and saw me. "Syrene!" He yelled back, and pushed through the crowd.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded. "You're supposed to be with the women and children!"

"Well, I'm not a full-grown women, and I'm not a child, Pippin. I don't…" I trailed off, not wanting to say too much. "You looking for Gandalf?"

"Yes! Have you seen him?" Pippin was desperate.

"No, but I'm looking for him too. You go that way – " I pointed to my left, "And I'll go that way." I pointed to the right. "Got it?"

"Yes, Syrene, but Denethor has gone insane!" Pippin spoke quickly. "He's going to burn Faramir!"

I gaped at him, my face aghast and appalled at the news. "What?" I exclaimed. "Why?"

"I told you, he's gone mad! He's lost all of his wits!"

However much wits he has left, I thought.

"I told him!" I groaned, smacking my forehead. "I told Faramir not to go out. I told him not to fight. I told him not to listen to his father. I even told him that his father's a nuthead! And does he listen? No!"

"Listen – " I took Pippin's shoulder. "Go find Gandalf. I'll get Faramir out of there, safe."

Pippin didn't think it would work. "But Denethor - he won't let you!"

I shrugged. "So what? I'll kick his butt half-way across Minas Tirith."

"He told me to leave! He got rid of me as a Guard of the Citadel." Pippin told me. "And he locked the door."

I began running away, just because of the time that was ticking fast. I was wasting time just talking to him. "So what?" I called over my shoulder. "I'll bust his door down. I'll ram it 'til it breaks open. I can do that."

Pippin's pale face quirked into a grin for a split second before he disappeared as I turned the corner. With no time to lose, I kept running and running until I reached the courtyard, now abandoned.

The doors were locked, though, and I cursed when I tried to pull them open. "Open up!" I shouted, pounding on the heavy metal doors that were chained with a bare fist. "Denethor, you are such an idiot! Don't burn your son alive, or I'll kick your ass all the way to Mount Doom by myself!"

"Fay?"

I whirled around, and gasped. A fell beast and rider hovered midair, illuminated by the sun rising in the east. I let out a squeak of fear.

Morgomir rode on Bane, his head slightly cocked. He looked fairly surprised to see me.

"Morgomir!" I breathed.

"Fay, what are you doing here?" He demanded. Bane moved forward, landing. I yelped.

He held down a gloved hand to me, beckoning me to leap on so he could take me back to the safety of Mordor.

So he could take me back to the safety of Mordor.

Is that happening?

Nuh-uh.

When I didn't take his hand, Morgomir looked at me strangely. "Fay, come on! Lord Sauron is worried for you! He wants you home!"

I stared up at him, feeling anger boil up inside of me, but it wasn't bubbling out. It was more of a calm fury, but it was cold and icy and less explosive. I shook my head. "No." I said firmly.

"What?"

"You heard me. No."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means what it means, stupid!" I retorted, getting impatient. "No, I'm not going home. No, I don't like you anymore. But yes, everyone's been lying to me. Yes, you said that Mordor was great while everyone else suffered. And yes, you're an idiot and Sauron's a jackass. All in which means n-o, NO!"

Shock flitted across his dark face, but was replaced by a look of understanding. Cold understanding. Immediately he shot his hand out faster than I could blink and grabbed me by my shoulder, hard.

"Ow!" I yelped. "Hands off, twerp!"

I struggled. But the harder I struggled, the tighter his grip became, and I was wondering if my collarbone and shoulder was going to break under the sheer force his hands were putting n me. I just had to give in under my reluctance, and I sat down.

"What are you doing?" I grumbled.

"Taking you back to Mordor. The Dark Lord should be interested in this new news."

"Holy shit, what?" I began to panic. I did begin to struggle, even though it was useless. Bane lifted up into the air, and dived. "LET GO OF ME YOU DAMN PIECE OF SHIT!"

And then I began to use the best swears and curses I knew, anything to alert attention. When nobody came to my rescue, I just decided to scream. When that didn't work, the only other thing I had within my grasp was to control Bane.

After all, Bane was more accustomed to my flying rather than Morgomir's. I've raised him. Morgomir didn't. I taught Bane all the awesome tricks. Morgomir didn't.

"Did you eat anything before the ride?" I asked the Witch-King of Angmar.

A/N: I know that Witch-Kings don't eat anything, but let's pretend they do. Just like how Sauron isn't portrayed as a giant eye (although he is) and you usually see Sauron as a human figure, just pretend that Witch-Kings are also a human figure, but…yeah. Just that. :D

He said uncertainly, "Yes. Why ask?"

"Because." I said smugly, smirking. "I told you not to."

I shot my hands out, taking the reins out of his hand and roughly pulled the reins to my left. Bane veered left sharply, and turned upside down, flapping hard.

I grinned.

"Didn't I tell you not to eat anything before flight? Bane likes to fly upside down!" I shouted.

"FAY!" He shouted. He sounded sick. Just what I needed. "TURN HIM RIGHT SIDE UP RIGHT NOW!"

"YEP!" I shouted back, and turned him up the right side, but then flipped him over again.

"I WILL REPORT THIS TO LORD SAURON!" He screamed.

"YOU DO THAT!" I screamed back.

Bane seemed to spiral off-course, and growing weary of having to fly upside down to my delight, and under the command of Morgomir having to fly the right way, he landed on a part of the wall in Minas Tirith.

I whooped. I couldn't wait to interrogate Pippin or Gandalf to ask what I just did looked like!

But a brilliant, pearly white horse rounded the corner, and on it, mounted Gandalf and Pippin, and fear was in their eyes, with some kind of panic.

Bane immediately reared up, snarling and hissing and flapping his wings.

"Go back to the abyss!" Gandalf shouted, holding up his white staff in defense. "Fall into the nothingness that awaits you and your master!"

I looked away, and ducked, not wanting them to see me and recognize me. That would be extremely bad.

But Morgomir had finally felt better and less dizzy. "Do you not know death when you see it, old man?" He threatened.

I was about to shout, "Hey! Gandalf's not that old!"

Then Morgomir let out a horrible scream, and I flinched visibly. Pippin cried out in terror, hugging Gandalf around the middle in fear.

Then he drew his sword, flaming. I peered up. Why must he carry that around? One day he'll catch his clothes on fire and see how much he'll boast all day long, strutting in that petty uniform in his, shouting out orders and bossing others around.

Startled, Gandalf's staff shattered, and he fell from his horse.

I raised my eyebrows. That was weird.

"This is my hour."

Morgomir has got to teach me that. Just get to whip out your sword towards the Witch-King and watch him stumble and trip on his butt. That would be worth a watch.

The Witch-King approached Gandalf. I was helpless. I wanted to stop Morgomir, but I didn't want to give myself away. Pippin drew his sword towards him. "Gandalf!" He yelled in alarm.

The old wizard looked up, determined. Bane let out a loud roar, and the little hobbit froze in fear. As Shadowfax, that beautiful white horse, finally lost his patience and reared towards Bane, holding it at bay for a moment, the Witch-King taunted Gandalf.

"You have failed. The World of Men will fall."

But like Shadowfax, I lost my patience as well.

"You're a bastard!" I shouted, sitting up, away from my hiding spot. "Good riddance to you! I should've knocked you right out of your seat when I gave you Bane! And then I should've laughed at you!"

Oh, shit.

Pippin and Gandalf looked up at me, incredulous at what they saw.

"Syrene?" Pippin gasped. "W-What –how – y-you – " He stuttered over words in shock.

Morgomir stared at me, confused. "Syrene? You look nothing like Syrene, Fay. You look too much like Darforth."

"Shut up!" I snapped, but it was too late.

Gandalf already knew who the Fay Evargent was.

"Servant of the Dark Lord." Gandalf stood up, his face etched with fury. "We have had a spy sent from him, Peregrin Took. And we befriended her."

"You did what?" Morgomir yelped.

"I don't serve that incomprehensibly insanely idiotic dumbass retard Sauron anymore!" Realizing my insult was rather wordy, I flushed a shade of pink. "I don't!" I protested against Gandalf and Pippin's disbelief stares.

"I really don't! I swear! Sauron lied to me! He – "

But a chorus of horns was heard in the distance. I stopped my ranting and we all looked to the direction of the rising sun.

"I will deal with you later." Morgomir growled in my ear, before turning Bane and flying away to the somewhat new threat.

I gulped.

This was not good. At all.

Oh, boy, what's going to happen to Fay now? Yikes...

Please review! =D

Cheers,

littledragoneyes