Reminder:: Jeepers, this isn't mine still.

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Chapter Forty-Six :: At the Close

I didn't get the chance to see anyone I used to know until weeks later. The City was in such an uproar and plans for repairs were immediately being put into place. The general clean-up lasted through the month of June. And still, I was kept apart.

Personally, I didn't feel I was ignored… on purpose. But I knew my uses and they were few – as did everyone else. So I sat in a little room by myself to patch clothes. And ruminate.

That woman I saw… So fair. So strong. And yet she couldn't have been more than three years my senior. So young! And how she looked at the Lord Faramir…

I could never dwell long on these thoughts. It made something in my chest feel funny. Like my lungs twisted up so I couldn't breathe.

But when I tried to get my mind off the mysterious woman, my next thought would be Mordred. Thoughts of Mordred were always accompanied by waves of guilt. It wasn't fair. On either end. I didn't love him, so how could I honestly marry him? But couldn't I just get over myself? Obviously my chances with the Lord Faramir have dwindled because of – no! Not going back to that. It's only a suspicion anyways. What if I could force myself to love Mordred? Is that possible? What do women in arranged marriages do? Well, shouldn't I know? I was to wed Boromir! Good God, Finwen, pull yourself together. Stop acting like such a little girl…

I yelped and stood suddenly – I had pricked myself with the needle in my silent fury. I kissed my finger where the blood spotted. Looking down, I saw that the tunic I had been sewing back together had a drop of my blood on the shirt's front. Well… Who would honestly notice? There were buckets of blood only weeks before this…

Strange how war can pass so quickly. How quickly I can become idle! I picked up the tunic and was about to sit back down when there was a timid knock at my door.

Setting aside my sewing things on the chair, I tousled my hair a bit and opened the door.

I was used to this by now. After staring straight ahead and finding nothing, I looked down with a smile.

None other than Peregrin Took awaited me, rocking back and forth on his heels before he noticed I had opened the door. Quick as a rabbit, he straightened up like the professional little soldier Denethor taught him to be.

"Why, hello, Master Peregrin. Is there anything I can do for you?" I asked in my most pleasant manner, probably giving away my melancholy.

Pippin screwed up his eyes as if he suspected my sarcasm, but he ignored it just as fast. With a bright smile, he said: "Hullo, Lady! Was out in the gardens and was wondering if you'd like to join us. For a round of smoke and stories. Though I don't think you smoke…"

"That sounds lovely." I agreed to a break before he could make things awkward. Feeling a little off in something more of a smock than a dress for a lady, I followed the hobbit away from my small room and down the corridor.

I couldn't help but watch him out of the corner of my eye as we walked. So… jolly. And surprisingly confident in all he did. Of course, Pippin could be shy or downcast, but those were only nerves. Everybody had nerves. This was a very brave, true man at my side. Though now that I said 'man,' I've confused myself. He is a brave, true hobbit. But that didn't sound right either. He should be something more.

Suddenly, I was voicing these thoughts aloud, apparently grown in confidence myself. "Thank you, Peregrin, for coming. My mind was… growing idle. You're very good to me."

"Oh!" The hobbit waved it off, his face pink. "The stories weren't half as fun without you there. You still need to tell them all about the eagles!"

"Them?" I asked.

"Oh, just us." He said vaguely. He counted on his fingers. "Last I was there it was me and Merry, Sam was buzzing around Frodo still… ah, the elf Legolas was around though he wasn't a big fan of smoking and Gimli was smoking the most."

What a crowd. I suddenly found myself nervous again, especially to see the elf prince Legolas. It was so easy to make a fool of myself! Perhaps if I just pretended he wasn't there in all his shining elf glory, I can get a few un-fumbled words out…

"Lady Finwen? You look a bit… off." Pippin commented.

Thinking about what I was doing (wringing my skirt with my hands and biting my lip), I really couldn't have made it more obvious that I was having a hard time lately than if I had just shouted it so. I'M SICK OF DRAMA. Like that.

I smiled up at the little hobbit who was quite a ways ahead of me as we ascended a steep staircase. "If I could be so bold, I wish I would have been born three feet shorter if it had meant I would have known you better. The hobbit lady who ensnares you must surely be a princess of the Shire." Truly, he was the nicest person I had met so far and he was still being kind and caring though I could have been set well out of the way long ago.

Blushing, but not as bad as the Master Samwise, Pippin said: "Such a compliment from a lady! Could you repeat that in front of Merry? He'd never believe me otherwise."

I laughed and nodded, catching up to him on the steps. We walked for a bit in happy company before the sun shone through a stone arch and greenery blossomed up. The garden was scarcely furnished with more benches of marble than leaves in the few trees, but in a few years the flowers could grow again and the hedges and rows would be full enough to please a king.

This was the discussion we had walked in upon, the dwarf Gimli arguing against the stonework as he laid out plans to rebuild and redesign Minas Tirith as a whole. Though quiet and looking towards the sea at times, Legolas spoke of tall trees and flowers on vines he could have brought to give new life to the City. Only now did I realize we were in one of the gardens of the Houses of Healing. This is where I would come with Huan.

After having a look around before anyone noticed me, I was slightly disappointed not to see Frodo. I had hoped to be better acquainted with the little hero. Samwise, on the other hand, was sitting against a ruddy little tree with a pipe in his mouth and Pippin's friend Merry was stretched out on a bench smoking and facing the sky.

"Have you gone to sleep? Is this what you do when I'm not around for entertainment?" Pippin teased, pushing Merry enough off the bench to sit down himself.

Merry sat up, straddling the bench, and gave him a haughty look. "It's all the sleep I can get, Pip. You run your mouth day and night!"

The hobbit looked past Peregrin and saw me standing under the arch. I must've meant something because Merry scowled and handed Peregrin his pinch pouch of pipe weed (say that five times fast!). Apparently, he didn't think Pippin could actually convince me to come. Oh, hobbits…

Used to being introduced, I felt awkward as it grew quiet and I stumbled rather and chose a bench on the opposite side of the court. I leaned back on my hands and looked out at the darkening sky. "Soon, the sun will have gone to bed and the stars will shine…"

"Do you not see the stars often, Lady Finwen?" Merry piped up. (I didn't intend for that to be a pun…)

I shook my head in the negative. "Not in a long time. When I first came here, the moon was full and I watched its light pour out over the City's walls and alleys. It was beautiful. But the Shadow must've followed me, for I have not had many glimpses of the night sky since."

Gimli ceased his ramblings on the poor architecture and his dwarven experience and looked skyward, too. "Ay, the stars have been few and dim. For a long, long time."

"But the clouds have passed." Legolas reminded. Almost as if to prove it, the sun sank just enough so that a lone star could be spotted in the navy mat above our heads. "Elendil…"

The star still shone bright though the purples, pinks, and oranges of the sunset burned on the horizon, begging for the same attention. I knew I would never see her again in my heart, but I couldn't help but wish to catch a glimpse of the Lady of the Stars, twirling her skirts and her massive locks of hair tumbling down her back with the shimmering light of the cosmos as her train.

I let out a sigh and took to watching the sun pass.

Of course, Pippin soon grew bored of that and began prodding for more stories. I hadn't realized how countless they were – any one of us could have gone on rambling throughout the night. I spoke some of my ride North when prompted and answered their questions, but my story-telling skills weren't the best and I had told all I could tell in only a few minutes, really squashing all interest from it and making it sound far from glorious or difficult or dangerous. I made it sound like a trip to the store to buy a pair of shoes. Whoopee. But the next story was to be told by Master Meriadoc.

I listened as intently as I could, but my ears could not catch all of it. I was too distracted. But Merry told of his time in Rohan and my heart was warmed by the familiar sights and sounds of horses and open fields. I had been in the stone cage of Minas Tirith for too long.

Merry, a small hobbit, rode beside the King Théoden. It was an enthralling story filled with remorse for the deceased monarch and it was exciting to hear about the preparations for war and the days of riding.

Then he mentioned Dernhelm.

"You mean the Lady Eowyn rode in disguise? As a man?" Pippin asked, not hearing this part of the story before.

Meriadoc nodded grimly. "She said she'd do anything to ride by her uncle's side. And she meant it."

"That was very brave of her." I commented.

"Her loyalty was with the king – no doubt!" Merry quickly agreed. "Bravest and fairest of all."

He went on to describe how the Lady Eowyn rode with Merry in the Fields of Pelennor. When I was fussing over the Lord Denethor, Eowyn's uncle was slain by the fearsome Witch-King of Angmar. I had seen him at the gate. Heard his voice. When he left, I felt there was no greater blessing than that he and his beast were gone. I had no idea he had left me… and attacked her.

The more Merry said, the better the picture of Eowyn seemed to be. When the fell beast, terrible and foul stood over King Théoden in rank victory, the Lady sprung between them. She lopped the head off the creature and with Merry's help, actually destroyed the Witch-King. Such a great task left her fatigued and indisposed in the Houses of Healing. Where I left Faramir.

"And after all I heard, the Steward Faramir and the Lady will be married. After arrangements can be made with her brother and her uncle's laid to rest." Merry concluded his tale with gossip.

I remained silent as the others gave their consent. It was still bizarre to hear 'Steward Faramir' let alone talk of him and Eowyn. So much for all I knew…

"Are you well, Lady? You've grown pale." Legolas said, focusing attention on me.

For once I didn't stammer when I answered him. I suppose it was good practice – what with word that a whole troupe of elves was to enter the City any day now. I would need to keep a level head around all the beauty and wonder and speaking to Legolas was good preparation for that. "I'm afraid I've grown chill. I've been inside stone walls for too long. I miss Ithilien already, it seems…" I said with a smile.

"Look." Luckily, Sam took the attention off of me and up towards a balcony. Heads turned upwards in synchronization to see a small silhouette leaning against the rail. I immediately feared the Lady Eowyn – being a ninny (why should I fear her?) – but the shadow was much too small.

Frodo looked out as the last sliver of sun left and the world grew dark. He awkwardly held his shoulder, not a typical position one would recline in I realized. I had actually remembered part of his story though and decided that was the spot he was stabbed on the place called Weathertop. The hobbit sighed, not seeing us below him, and held an invisible object at his neck. As soon as he had come out, he went back inside.

Sometime while we watched him, Samwise had left us. The little tree was vacant where he sat.

We were all very quiet for awhile. Finally, Pippin spoke up and said to seemingly no one: "Everything will be different now… We can't go back. Can we?"

Soon, Merry claimed he was off to bed. Pippin went with him though he insisted they find something to eat first. Gimli followed them out – now that the hobbits were gone, he wasn't quite sure what to do. Legolas lingered, not one for sleeping long hours as we, and was content watching the sky and the distant river that would lead to an open ocean.

So I departed after the dwarf and took the winding path back towards my room. It wasn't my old room. I had about a dozen rooms here… always moving me about. I suppose nothing has really been mine.

The halls were dark but for simple candlelight. I was too focused on my monotonously moving shoes that I didn't realize I had gone too far, well past my room. I was in a long, wide hall with an elaborate carpet going down the center. I had never been here before.

Right when I was about to explore or turn back, a voice called out to me from a lit doorway. "Finwen?"

Recognizing the voice, my throat turned dry. I tried to swallow, found I couldn't, and so hung in silence. I stared blankly at the silhouette until they approached me. "Hello."

Faramir smiled, seeing it was me. "Finwen! I've… You're mad to do the things you have done! Mithrandir… told me everything. You are lucky to be alive."

"As are we all. But I've heard more terrible stories than my own." I remarked, blatantly thinking of Eowyn. Since when did I have such… self-assurance? "That is a nicely crafted rod you carry."

The Lord Faramir looked down and examined the rod, unnecessarily explaining to me it was the mark of the Steward. I knew of course – I had seen Denethor with it before and I had seen it handed back to Faramir by the King Elessar. But apparently I was still the ignorant little girl locked up in her room to him.

My thoughts grew bitterer as his explanation ended and the silence grew. I didn't bother asking where I was or why he was here, too, but I figured he was plenty busy. He hadn't seen me since that day in the Houses… and as he said: Mithrandir told him I was alright. Still, he did not look for me… But I had not been fair. Did I look for him? No.

"Well, I must be off." I announced and curtsied with my next statement. "I wish you well, Steward. May you be ever joyous in your union with the Lady of Rohan."

His eyes were confused, but he seemed unnerved all the same. I could hide my sarcasm from Pippin, but I could not from Faramir. "Finwen? …You are displeased."

I smiled brightly and shook my head. "As I remember, we both enjoy the art of reading people. But I'm afraid you've misread me, my lord. For… I am betrothed as well. To Sir Mordred."

Faramir rose his eyebrows, but he gave me a smile of congratulations. "I too wish you well in your union, Finwen. I have always… wished you well."

Now that he had openly admitted his affiance to Eowyn, I felt it coming. I nodded and blurted out again: "It seems we've both found happiness, hm? Good-bye."

Turning on my heel, I walked back down the hall from where I came. Once I made the corner, I quickly wiped away the tears that were already betraying me, but I was forced to run as they began to stream down my face. It was lucky I found my door with such terrible sight, but after the door closed, I collapsed in a huddle on the floor and finally let the tears go.

I wasn't sure how long I cried. My eyes were dry and my knees were wet where I had hid. Standing up in a daze, I looked about the room. I opened the closet and saw two dresses. Not mine. The ones from Yuletide were lost somewhere in the City. The bow and quiver – Linius'. Even the boots on my feet belonged to Linius. The smock I wore belonged to the Houses. Alatar was… close, but I couldn't really own a horse. He was a companion. A friend. He wasn't mine. Hell, the blue that labeled him that was still tangled in his mane wasn't mine. It was Alatar's. My name wasn't mine! Finwen was some fancy of Denethor.

"My name is Sarah!" I shouted to nobody, giving my wardrobe a swift punch. That hurt too much – my knuckles started to tingle as pain blossomed and blood vessels popped. As an alternative, I leapt onto my bed and started beating the hell out of my lumpy pillow.

Downy feathers fluttered and straw fell out of the side as I whacked it and cursed it for being a pillow. "Damn this world! Damn it all! The bow isn't mine! The dresses aren't mine! THIS. ISN'T. MINE!"

I threw the pillow against the wall and it erupted in a flurry as the last of its contents spilled out on the floor. I fell back against the headboard of the small bed and dug my hands into my face. "Do I own nothing…?"

Not for the first time, I felt I didn't belong. This was some stupid story that the author kept ripping me out of. I had no purpose – not anymore. I was just some twist to keep the plot moving. But I was disposable. I was done.

"I need to get out of here…"