Reminder:: The Lord of the Rings and all affiliates associated there and forthwith are of no ownership of mine.

Wow! Here we are! My favorite song as a chapter title to boot! n_n

Hold onto your hats folks – if it wasn't weirding you out before, it will now. This is where you get a glimpse of my major plot line. Do remember though that I'm a huge Tolkiendil/ist/ite so I refuse to shred his story so rashly. Though I may do so in the future (heh, hypocrisy), this is my hardcore fan fiction where whatever he wrote stays the same. Finwen is simply not mentioned. Simple, oui? =3 But the things I have added are very different. I found a loophole Tolkien never elaborated on and caught it – twisting it to my liking. Hopefully you guys won't be scared off by this necessary chapter of weird to miss out what I've done. xD

It also seems I've been following a false calendar. Curse online resources! Always check the book – always doubt. It seems I've added an extra day between the meeting with Denethor and Faramir's eventual return. Sorry! Please forgive me. x_x

What's in store? Find out for yourselves and keep up with me! =D

Chapter Thirty-Three :: Concerning Hobbits

The next morning, it was not too difficult to get out of the White Hall. The Lord Denethor had taken on a completely new and stronger persona – that of a man planning for war. I easily slipped out the servant's quarters and made my way around the citadel.

So suddenly it seems that we have been on the brink and have been pushed off the edge. It's almost unexpected, really. So long the city has waited for war, expected it, but now that it's at our doorstep…? It's too much to handle. People are scrambling everywhere. It's almost a chant we know: "War has come! Mithrandir is here!"

Of course, this being said, the White Wizard was more than hard to come by. He would have no time for silly girls like myself with questions and perhaps a few mundane answers. I had to go for the second best thing.

The serving woman told me 'the short fellow' was off with Beregond. I didn't know Beregond well, but I remembered he was one of the men I curtsied to at Yuletide. That wasn't saying much considering I had curtsied so much those six days I thought my knees wouldn't bend back up. Besides, Faramir was more than a bit distracting, so I would be surprised if I could remember Beregond's face.

Enough of these thoughts! They're perverted. Do remember you're engaged to his brother. Dead or alive, there will always be the rift. That made me ache. I didn't like thinking of that either.

A young girl alone in the citadel was enough to catch the attention of a few guards. I told them I was looking for Beregond. He's out on business. Then what of the Hobbit? What? The Halfling? Oh, he's with Bergil, son of Beregond. Where are they? About. Lovely.

I was forced to wait in the room Peregrin son of Paladin called home with the wizard. If he would return by some miracle with time for a talk, perhaps he could help me.

Although it was midday when I took my seat on one of the only chairs available in the little room, dusk approached and still there was no sign of the Hobbit. I grew anxious and paced about. From the window, I could hear cries for 'Forlong' and loud trumpets. The reinforcements were already here. Less than three thousand strong – not nearly enough. How long had Denethor been planning all of this? I had never seen him do much business, but I had to believe I was simply too ignorant to notice what was on the papers he wrote.

When it finally became night and I had lit a lantern to keep the dark away, I felt I should retreat and try again some other day. But after all the waiting… He must return at some point.

And he so unexpectedly did so a few moments later. The surprise of the sudden pull of the door set me on my feet. Closing the door behind him, still not noticing me, the little Hobbit unfastened his grey cloak and turned about. He dropped it in surprise when his eyes met mine.

"Hullo there! The Lady Finwen?"

"Master Peregrin, I'm sorry for the informality in the way I've come to you. I hope you can forgive me."

By his quick appraisal, I figured he took me to not be as stupid or short-sighted as he remembered. He hung up his cloak, fleetingly searching the room for something to look at other than myself. "Forgive you? There's been a misunderstanding! Here – sit down."

He motioned for me to sit in the chair I had been ruminating in all day and he pulled up one besides. Small Peregrin was obviously quite nervous about me, but I could say the same. I was so worried that I might be offending one of the great leaders of the north. I hope I wasn't setting a bad example for Men.

"I'm so sorry to come to you like this. I know there was no way I could see Mithrandir, so I had to come to the next best counsel."

Peregrin puffed out his chest a bit, flattered at the obvious fact in my mind. "Mithrandir? You mean you want to speak to Gandalf? I don't know how I can help – I'm not very big or worldly, as you can see – but I'll do my best, lady."

I smiled at him, glad for his sincerity and kindness. At this inopportune moment, my stomach growled from not being fed today since breakfast time. Peregrin immediately noticed this and offered to find me something to eat.

"No, no – there are more pressing matters than my hunger."

"I'm afraid I'll have to be begging your pardon – nothing's more pressing than an empty stomach." He shook his curly head at me.

I laughed and refused. "I can eat later – please. I just want to know… what I think I should."

Peregrin settled at that, still a bit put out there would be no food involved in this conversation.

I cut right to the chase. "How much do you know about the power of wizards?"

The confused look I received gave me my answer. I let out a sad sigh.

"I'm sorry, my lady… I—"

"It's quite alright. It was just something weighing on my mind for awhile. I… pray for the life and safety of old friends. They were the first to help me and I left them when the night was at its darkest."

There was a long pause. "If it means anything to you, lady – we all thought Gandalf had fallen. But he bounced right back! I'm sure they did, too."

I couldn't help but laugh. "You are very kind. Certainly not what I would expect from the Prince of the Halflings. Tell me – is the Shire a realm of kings? Or do nobles govern your city?"

Master Peregrin actually laughed. "Unless there have been renovations, there are no cities in the Shire. There are no kings or lords of realms such as these… It's simple and small like its folk. I miss it. Every day."

I felt bad for making him homesick. Trying to change the subject, I asked him some questions about his journey he shared with my betrothed. He welcomed the subject easily, but to my surprise, he really had no trouble at all speaking of the Shire. In fact, he was most glad I was such an avid listener. He told me about their farms and fields and homes. They smoked strange weeds and brewed fine ale in their cellars and hosted parties with enough food to feed all of Minas Tirith for weeks. Much of it was too vague and rapidly said for me to comprehend, but I follow along with Peregrin's ramblings.

After an hour of this, he seemed to remember I had some pressing matters to attend to and slowed his speech. "Which reminds me – I should start correcting people that I am not a prince. It's flattering though, so it's not so bad to hear… What would Merry say when he hears!" He laughed, speaking of his childhood friend I had already heard so much about. "But you! Big Folk have lots to say about you, Lady Finwen."

This startled me. "Me?"

"Yes, o' course you! …What? You don't know?"

Staring at him blankly wasn't enough of a hint. "Do you mean people outside of Minas Tirith? They know me?" I was quite used to people talking about me here – hell, I would talk, too. I'm odd. My situation is odd. It's odd enough to talk about. But… how would Peregrin know that?

"Sure! The prophets won't stop telling the story. Swarming Edoras – that's how Gandalf knows about you. I heard tell through him." Peregrin explained.

I patiently waited for him to elaborate, slightly annoyed at the ambiguity.

"Well, if you don't know your own story, then so be it. I shouldn't ask it of you, lady. But the prophets—"

"You say prophets. Whence have they come?"

"East." Peregrin shrugged, for once saying something shortly. "Apparently, you're quite the celebrity. Though they never mentioned your gender by the look on Gandalf's face yestereve."

I scooted up closer and sat on the edge of my chair. "Please – tell me everything you know."

Of course he found this strange, but he pacified my worry. "Prophets – they call themselves but they're Easterlings – are coming out of the East talking about some Eru sent saviour come to save the peoples from Sauron. That's about as much of it as I've been told, Lady Finwen. Lots of big terms, you know. All I know is that you must be the one they're calling Messiah."

"What? Me? …! How do you know for sure it's me?"

Peregrin was pressured and didn't know what to say. "Gandalf said that the Messiah knew the blue wizards. I guess most of the prophets knew you."

Survivors? From the camp in the East? I… I had no idea… They must've taken what horses they had and fled… Alatar! Pallando! They must've seen the tent burned to the ground without me inside and – and, when Alatar threw me into the other tent to hide me and I wasn't there when he returned – they thought I was… Dear, God – they're alive!

My hands were shaking from the news. The weight of their death was lifted from my shoulders like a heavy pack taken off the load. I had thought they were dead as they thought I was dead. No one was about because… it makes sense now!

I voiced my one puzzlement aloud. "But why do they think I live…?"

Peregrin nodded like he knew the answer to this one. "Gandalf said Mordor is looking for you. The prophets said it's a sign you're still alive."

Prophets? Messiah? Looking for me! "But what can I do? I'm no Messiah! I'm just a girl!"

Peregrin looked doubtful. There really wasn't an answer to this question. None that he could give anyways. I tried to calm myself, but there was just too much on my mind to just ease it away passively. I felt like I was about to hyperventilate.

Finding I was standing, I quickly nodded to the Hobbit. "Thank you, Master Peregrin. For everything. I'll leave you now – sorry."

Leaving him on such short notice didn't give him a chance to say anything in return. I closed the door behind me and tried to regain my breath. Messiah! Me!