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Alright here we go! Things are speeding up now. Whoo! n_n

Chapter Thirty-Four :: One Weakness

The women had left the city.

At first, I was rather insulted I had not been asked to go, but I realized I would've made it difficult for anyone who wanted me gone. There was no way I was going to be carted away with the maids and the children not fit to fight. Though… I couldn't see how I would be of much help. I just longed to be a comfort to my lord.

And I wouldn't leave until I knew Faramir would be all right.

Of course, it was a fool's hope to think anyone may make it through this war. But I was determined enough to believe in survival. I also was too scared to think of death and hope was a delightfully bliss alternative.

From the courtyard of the citadel, I had watched from hundreds of meters above as the mass exodus left the last level and moved towards Rammas Echor. The last needed to leave for Lebennin immediately so the walls could be barricaded behind them. All the frowning ladies of the court were already leagues away. These were the last of who could be spared to leave. Taurwen and Ioreth were the only women left in the city that I knew and they were only allowed to stay because of their work in the Houses of Healing. I hadn't seen them in ages, stuck up here. I missed Ioreth terribly. It felt like I was in foster care.

I wanted so badly to ask Denethor about all this prophets and Messiah nonsense the hobbit was telling me yesterday, but I was much too frightened to ask. Besides – everyone was so busy, I was quite over-looked. Understandably of course! But… still…

This felt like something that shouldn't be easily ignored.

Instead of meandering through the White Hall, interrupting Denethor's war councils, I remained outside the doors for the day. There was a constant twilight. Morning had never seemed to rise and the sun never progressed across the sky. There was a dreary, foreboding cloud cover. Lightning flashed through the clouds in the East and they were burned red from the fires beyond the mountains.

I hugged my shoulders from the chill. The clothes offered me were very beautiful, but hardly practical. The cloth was too thin so the wind always sliced through to my skin and the all too often trains always tripped me up. But I could not deny – I had never been better clothed in my life. The dress I wore today was completely white. It felt like I was an iguana, blending in with the stone slabs of marble. The train on this dress wasn't so bad; it was about an arm's length long. The sleeves though were absolutely terrible. They were made of scratchy lace that itched from my shoulder to my wrist. My arms were freezing.

After all the hours I had walked about the courtyard, thinking about stupid things like dresses and Faramir, I had quite exhausted my feminine fears and it must've been nearly sundown. The lone, withered tree in the courtyard was the only thing left to look at, and call it blaspheme, but it was rather ugly. I know the people of Minas Tirith treasured this plant, but I couldn't understand why. I had never heard its story, but it looked more statue-like to me after being so long dead. It was probably petrified.

Contemplating going inside and at least asking for a shawl or something, a terrible scream wrought the air. This wasn't a normal cry – it wasn't relatable to any animal I had ever heard but it was certainly from a beast. The sound was that of crunching metal, tearing, searing, twisting, bending, wrapping, crushing, pressurepressurepressure—

I hadn't realized I had sat on the cold ground. Images of people and places I didn't know were flashing through my mind like a wild picture show and a girl's familiar scream rang in my mind. Another piece to the puzzle of me – the scream. The cry of the beast was similar to the last thing I had heard; metal.

The screaming did not stop. There must have been multiple creatures. But in their intake of breath, I could hear, and practically feel, the vibrations of heavy hooves. There was a frightened whinny.

I picked myself up and sprinted like a madman across the courtyard. Throwing my arms out to stop myself from jumping off the open edge, I stopped and looked out over the plain. Riding back from Osgiliath, just passing through Rammas Echor, rode a very small company of dark shapes. I strained my eyes to see them in the low light, but my ears caught what I was looking for instead. The long call of a horn rose considerably and then died.

It was Faramir's call.

Though the horn wasn't nearly as precious as the Lord Boromir's, it was recognized universally throughout the City. The captain was returned.

The dark beasts with the echoing cries were flying just above Minas Tirith, circling dangerously close before they targeted the riders. They were black, horrifying snake-like bats with riders cloaked in shadows. My heart clenched as I watched the terrible spectacle from above. Faramir and his men fighting for life. They must make the Gate!

Completely helpless, I watched from afar as the beasts swooped low over the four or five men racing across the Pelennor. All had lost their horses save one, who circled back to regroup his people. Men ran towards the Gate on foot, their horses gone mad to save themselves. Faramir kept pace, refusing to lose a single man as the creatures of the air dropped their hooked claws on them.

When I thought this was going to be my last glimpse of the Lord Faramir, an enormous white light shot through the dark. Riding swiftly from the City was the White Wizard, Mithrandir, with his palm facing the sky. The light was emanating from him, making the beasts scream and wail, already on the retreat. My heart grew light as Mithrandir slowed and took pace with the company he just rescued, leaving my sight as they made their way for the Gate.

Ecstatic, I turned and found I was not alone in the courtyard. Dozens of men and guards had gathered to watch the rescue and were already lining up to greet those who were spared. Cheers of Faramir's name erupted throughout Minas Tirith, reaching an exploding crescendo when the company appeared in the courtyard. I couldn't exactly shove my way through the crowd, but I easily found Master Peregrin in a small gap. It wasn't hard to stand nearby, close enough to see those passing by.

The Steward appeared on the steps of the White Hall. He looked out over the people and saw with distaste that his son was the object of interest. Those offering him counsel inside the hall were taken off guard by the arrival and were speechless, staring stupidly at the back of Denethor as his mind raced.

Faramir was already with Mithrandir, speaking low next to Peregrin. I went unnoticed, but I heard enough that they were to meet with Denethor. Perhaps I could weed my way into their counsel…

Faramir was accepted into the hall with the wizard and the hobbit. I went around the long way, taking the servant's door, and realized they would not take counsel in the White Hall. Instead, the men marched right through as Denethor dismissed his council and opened a side door to one of his private chambers. There was a servant's stair that connected around the back I may be able to use, but I doubted I would go unnoticed. And what with all these strange rumors flying about, maybe it was better if I did not gather anymore strange stories.

The White Hall was empty of all persons and relatively dark. I sat outside the door I saw Peregrin disappear behind and waited. I could not make out what the voices were saying within.

The room became darker. A servant boy, one of the last, hurried around the room lighting torches. He dismissed me as being irregular but did not ask me questions as to why I was lying on the floor against the wall. Probably looked like I succumbed to despair or something.

I closed my eyes, lying on my arms that had fallen asleep long ago. I curled my legs up underneath me, trying to find warmth in the folds of my dress. It sounded odd, but close to the door listening to the voices, I could pick out who was speaking for the most part. Mithrandir spoke very little, but his voice was always the calmest in the room, low and soft. Denethor's voice was sharp and quick, parrying with questions and grudgingly shrugging off answers. Peregrin didn't speak at all. Faramir's voice was… sad. I expected it to be tired – I would be weary if I was he, but the way he spoke was slow and careful. I wondered why I never noticed it before.

I started to doze off to the thrum of his voice when Denethor's rose a few decibels. Mithrandir's voice began and the two older men debated for a time. Before I was prepared, the door opened and the hobbit stepped out, shuffled along by the wizard. Mithrandir saw me, I had at least sat up now, but I must've looked suspicious. Peregrin stared down at me, too, and I felt guilty.

Faramir closed the door behind him and interrupted the awkward silence. Surprised to see me, he knelt down to my level. I couldn't help but be reminded of the day I met him. "Finwen! What are you doing on the floor?"

"I…" I paused with an intake of breath. Mithrandir smiled and motioned the hobbit along and the pair's footsteps echoed down and out of the hall. "I am glad to see you safe."

The Lord Faramir quickly helped me to my feet by taking up my arms and lifting me, chiding me for waiting and sitting on the floor in a heap. "The hour is late. Off to bed with you."

"But-!" I protested. "But what of the battle? Have things gone ill? Will all the men return to the City?"

Faramir frowned. "No. I must go out to meet them."

"What? You've only just arrived!"

"Fin—"

"How long have you until you must leave?"

"The Council will meet in the morning to decide where I must go." He explained patiently.

"Then there's still a chance you may stay?" It inadvertently came out as a question. The both of us suddenly realized we were holding each other's arms still from when I needed help getting up and abruptly let go. I smoothed out my dress idly, thinking things through.

Faramir smiled, pacifying my worries with avoidance. "There is nothing to fear, young Finwen. My only wish now is that you left the City with the others."

"I couldn't leave when I didn't know if—" I stopped myself. Redirecting my point, I started again. "You are not expecting to leave, are you?"

"I will have my men ready before midday if I must." He answered almost infuriately casual.

"You can't! It's madness!"

Turning, Faramir started to walk away. "I refuse to argue with you, Finwen."

I took a few brave paces forward and matched his stride. "You cannot go back. I don't know about you, but I saw those… those winged serpents! You narrowly made it here alive!"

Stopping just before the great doors, Faramir turned back to me. The torchlight made silhouettes of everything dance around the room. The place was filled with orange firelight. It made my dress look a yellowish red along with my light hair that hadn't been styled since the women who used to be able to make it look nice left. I tried to look him in the eyes, hold my ground, but his gaze was stronger than mine. I looked down.

"My loyalty lies here. What do you expect of me to do?"

I had lost everyone. Alatar, Pallando, Wolfling, Linius, Beleg, Huan, Boromir, and the family I couldn't remember. I had been separated from Ioreth, Taurwen, Tristed, Benold, Mordred, and my steed Alatar. Now Faramir was about to fall into the category I would never see again. And it made me feel alone. And scared. And very small. Tears were rolling out the sides of my eyes before I had half a mind to speak up. "You'll… die."

Faramir wasn't so heartless as to stand there and let me cry for him. His hand cupped my face in a comforting gesture and I put my hand up to hold it there. Blood was pumping through my veins so fast, I was glad for the light to hide my reddening face.

I looked up. His eyes were gentle and full of sorrow. It was easy to pity the situation – everything was such a mess. I knew at this moment that all my silly fancies were true. I didn't want him to leave. Ever. And I was scared again. How could a man's one weakness – his single flaw – be his solid loyalty? Loyalty would kill him. I wanted him to stop following orders and start listening to logic. I wanted him to be happy again. I wanted to take the weight of his brother's death from his shoulders – most of it I put there myself. I wanted to badly to know him, but I was like the Midas of emotions. Everything I touched crumbled to ash. Guised in plates of gold, it would disintegrate like everything else. Eventually. And that would be tomorrow when Faramir would leave to face his death.

Fear suddenly replacing my anger and despair thriving into embarrassment at the display I was making, I started backing up rapidly. I opened my mouth to speak, but found no logical word; I turned on my heel and sped from the hall.