Chapter 1

Minas Tirith, 14th March, 3019

The sun had finally emerged on a very chill morning, the fog just lifting.

Lothíriel was walking toward the west wing of the Houses of healing when she heard a call.

"My lady!"

As she turned, she saw Laethes. Such energy in a small man... she thought. She greeted him with a wide smile as he approached.

"Good morning, Master Healer." she said.

"Aye, my lady! It is a good morning!" Joy was always across his face. "And you are here already? So soon?"

Lothíriel sighed. "Well in truth I never left..."

Only then he noticed she was wearing the same cloths as yesterday.

"You slept in the Houses?!"

"Yes... I did...I'm afraid I trespassed on your kindness without your consent...again... but I was so tired yesterday... I couldn't bring myself to take the walk home. Forgive me."

Laethes was dumbstruck.

"There nothing to forgive, Lady Lothíriel. Your help has been most precious to us these dark days.... But I could have found you proper accommodations! Surely, a lady of Dol Amroth..."

Lothíriel laughed in reply. She laid her hand of his shoulder.

"But good sir, I've slept way too many times on hard beds and occasionally on the floor! I can take it, believe me. But thank you, for your concern, nevertheless."

"But, my lady, where did you..." his phrase was cut half way.

"Master Laethes! Lady Lothíriel! Quickly!" another healer called. "Come see!"

Lothíriel and the Master Healer came to the balcony on the 6th level of Minas Tirith and they saw what they never expected. A vast horde of the Dark Forces swept across the Pelennor Fields. Orcs, Trolls, Beasts... Thousands upon thousands, they marched towards their beloved city, with a single minded purpose.

"Sweet Elbereth! We will be besieged..." she whispered.

"Valar help us..." Laethes said.

"I must get to my father..." she said turning to Laethes.

"Of course. Go, my lady."

"I will return as soon as possible!"

Lothíriel made her way through a distressed crowd on the streets of Minas Tirith. Panic was already on the streets. She headed for the Royal House because for sure her brothers and her Father would be there by now. However, she was the first to arrive.

"Lothíriel!" Her uncle exclaimed. "What are you doing here? You should be preparing for departure!!"

"Departure!? Now?" she said in bewilderment. "But... Uncle... We have to fight back..."

"We are doomed!!! There is no hope left..."

"Uncle, there is always hope! I saw that the beacons were lit..."

"But no help came!" he shouted.

"Yet! My father always said that when time comes, the allies of Gondor would stand by our side! We just have to give them time..."

"You're a woman!! What would a woman know of war!?" he yelled.

Lothíriel felt a surge of anger rise within her.

"I maybe a woman but I am a daughter of Gondor! A daughter of a long line of Lords and Kings of this land and I refuse to hear words of self-pity and despair. Fight, Uncle!"

"I..."

"Deneathor, my daughter is right..." said Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth, his voice loud and clear as he entered the Grand Hall. "The situation looks dire, indeed, but we can't turn our backs and flee."

"If only Boromir was here..."

"Uncle," Elphir started. "Boromir is gone but Faramir is..."

"Weak. Faramir is weak, he will never be the Steward this city needs!"

Lothíriel shook her head as she heard his words. How could he be so blind? Boromir had been a good leader of man but he never had the pureness of heart that Faramir possessed.

"There is no hope for Men... To greet death is all we have left..." he sat on the cold room, lost in his thoughts.

"Come, children... There is no point in rationalizing with despair..." he uttered.

They left the room and in Imrahil's mind a plan was forging.

"I refuse to lay down my arms!! Elphir, gather the Swan Knights and distribute them amongst the lines of Gondor's army. We need all the strength we can get! Reinforce the gate! None shall pass!"

"Yes, father."

"Erchirion, find Mithrandir and tell them of our plan. We could use his craft."

"Mithrandir? Here, in Minas Tirith?" Lothíriel asked as Erchirion moved away. "When did he come?"

"A couple of days ago. It was his idea to light the beacons."

"Oh... So help is on the way, father?"

"Apparently, so. Théoden and Rohan will answer the call." Turning to his youngest son he said. "Amrothros, before the gates are closed take our fastest horse and ride to Osgilliath. Tell Faramir to pull back. Osgilliath is lost and we need to defend the city at all cost. But please be carefull, my son." he said as he placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I will, father."

With a short bow, he left.

Now alone with her, Imrahil turned to his daughter.

"What ever you do, stay out of harms way... At a ll cost, Lothíriel. Remain in the Houses of Healing..."

Embracing him, she nodded.

"Be careful..." she said to him.

As she watched him leave, she prayed silently for their safe return.