Hey, everybody! I'm back!

Sorry for the lack of updates. It's been the usual, too much homework, tests, projects, etc…

So anyways, thank you to everyone who reviewed in my absence! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 27: The White City

The next morning, everyone had gathered in the great hall. Pippin and Robin stood off to the side, still ashamed of what had happened during the night.

Gandalf paced before them, his white robes billowing out behind him. "There was no lie in Pippin or Robin's eyes," he informed them. "Fools, but honest fools they remain. They told nothing of Frodo and the Ring." At this, Kayden and Peyton sighed with relief.

"We've been strangely fortunate," Gandalf continued. "The two hobbits saw a glimpse of the enemy's plan in the palantîr. Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith. His defeat at Helm's Deep showed our enemy one thing – the Heir of Elendil has come forth." All eyes landed on Aragorn as the wizard continued his rant. "Men are not as weak as he supposed. There is courage still, perhaps enough to challenge him. Sauron fears this. He will not risk the peoples of Middle-Earth uniting under one banner. He will raze Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees a king return to the throne of Men. If the beacons of Gondor are lit, Rohan must be ready for war."

Theoden gazed at Gandalf haughtily. "Tell me, why should we ride to the aid of those who did not come to ours? What do we owe Gondor?"

"I will go," Aragorn offered.

Gandalf shook his head. "No!"

"Then we will go," Peyton stated as both she and Kayden stepped forward.

"They must be warned!" Kayden added.

"They will be," Gandalf reassured them. The wizard then walked over to Aragorn, conversing quietly with the Ranger. Then, after a few moments, Gandalf turned back to face them. "Understand this," he stated. "Things are now in motion that cannot be undone. I ride for Minas Tirith…and I won't be going alone."

~o*o*o*o~

"Hurry, you two!" Gandalf urged. "We must make haste!"

"But where are we going?" Pippin asked, dashing after the wizard. Just ahead of him were Merry and Robin.

Robin noticed the stressed look on Merry's face. "Hey, are you alright?"

"I'm worried for you, Robin," he replied. "For both you and Pip. The enemy thinks that you have the Ring! They will be looking for you. You two have to get out of here."

Robin nodded grimly in understanding as the three hobbits entered the stables. "How far is it to Minas Tirith?" Pippin asked as Gandalf hoisted him onto Shadowfax.

"Three days ride as the Nazgûl flies," the wizard replied. "And you better hope we don't have one of those on our tail."

As Gandalf gently lifted Robin up behind Pippin, Merry pulled something from his pocket. "Here, something for the road," he stated, handing a brown leather pouch to Pippin. Robin didn't need to look inside it to know what it was.

"The last of the Longbottom Leaf?" she asked incredulously.

Merry nodded. "I know you've run out, Pip. You smoke too much." He then turned to Robin. "Stay safe, Robin."

"We'll see each other again, Merry," Robin promised, fighting the tears sparkling in her eyes. "I know we will."

Merry backed away, tearing prickling in his eyes. "I don't know what's going to happen, Robin!" he exclaimed, distressed.

Gandalf quickly swung himself up onto the alabaster stallion. "Run, Shadowfax!" he commanded. "Show us the meaning of haste!" With an almighty jump, Shadowfax sprang forward, galloping hard across the plains.

"Merry!" Robin and Pippin cried as they drew farther away from the stables. Meanwhile, Merry dashed towards one of the watchtowers, nearly knocking over Peyton and Aragorn in the process. Curious to see what the young hobbit was doing, the two followed.

Merry stood at the top of the tower, peering through the slats of the fence surrounding the platform. "Pippin's always followed me everywhere I went since we were tweens," he stated ruefully. "I would get him into the worst sort of trouble, but I was always there to get him out. And Robin…well, she's always been by my side since the beginning of our adventure. And now they're gone." He heaved a tremendous sigh. "Like Frodo and Sam."

"One thing I've learned about hobbits – they are a most hardy folk," Aragorn reassured him.

"I am sure they will be fine," Peyton added. Under her breath, she muttered, "At least, I hope so."

~o*o*o*o~

Kayden sat on the steps of the Great Hall, gazing out at the horizon. "Do I even need to say how bad the situation is?" Peyton asked, coming over to sit by the elleth.

"I don't suppose you do," Kayden replied, chuckling weakly.

Peyton smiled back, trying to retain the slightly cheery mood. "Do you think Robin will be alright?"

"She has Gandalf," Kayden stated. "I do not think we could have asked for a better guardian." Her eyes traveled to the small dot atop the nearby hill. "Is that…?"

"That is indeed one of the beacons," Aragorn confirmed, taking a seat beside them. "When those are lit, Rohan must ride to Gondor's aid. It will be their only hope for victory."

Kayden sighed. "Now all we can do is wait."

~o*o*o*o~

Robin could not remember most of the ride to Minas Tirith. The scenery blurred before her eyes, and her legs were beginning to cramp from riding. However, she would never forget the very first time she laid eyes on the White City. The city seemed to be carved solely of pure white marble, glistening in the sunlight. Tall towers rose out of the mountainside, sable banners emblazoned with a white tree fluttering in the wind. Robin sighed, knowing that if all went as she had seen, this city would soon be covered in flames.

"Minas Tirith," Gandalf announced. "The City of Kings."

With great haste, they rode through the streets, through the gates of the city's different levels, until the finally reached the very top of the city. Here, a circular green courtyard lay amidst the white stone pathways, a tall, withered white tree in the center.

"It's the tree!" Pippin cried as the three dismounted.

"Yes, the white tree of Gondor. The tree of the King," Gandalf replied. "Lord Denethor, however, is not the King. He is a steward only, a caretaker of the throne."

Gandalf strode across the courtyard, Pippin and Robin hurrying to catch up. The wizard halted before the great stone doors of the Citadel, the throne room, and turned to the hobbits. "Now listen carefully," he instructed. "Lord Denethor is Boromir's father. To give him news of his beloved son's death would be most unwise. And do not mention Frodo or the Ring. And say nothing of Aragorn either. In fact, it's better if you don't speak at all."

Pippin and Robin blinked a few times, slightly overwhelmed by all of Gandalf's instructions. Then, the two nodded in understanding and followed the wizard into the Citadel.

The interior of the Citadel was breathtaking. The room, much like the city, was built of glittering white marble, with ornate black pillars reaching up to the high vaulted ceiling. Several tall statues rested in the many alcoves lining the walls, depicting the heroes of Gondor. At the far end of the room were two thrones. One was a majestic white throne, its empty seat elevated above the room. A bit lower was a smaller throne carved of black stone, upon which sat an elderly man dressed in rich black furs.

"Hail Denethor, son of Ecthelion, Lord and Steward of Gondor!" Gandalf cried. "I come with tidings in this dark hour and with counsel."

Denethor looked up at them, his face a stern and unreadable mask. "Perhaps you come to explain this." With shaky hands, Denethor lifted up an ivory horn, divided in the middle.

Robin's widened upon seeing it. "Boromir's horn!" she gasped, unable to contain it.

"So you know of my son's death," Denethor surmised.

"Boromir died to save my kinsmen and me," Pippin replied, stepping forward and kneeling before the Steward. "He fell defending us from many foes."

"Pippin!" Gandalf hissed.

Pippin ignored the wizard and continued to speak to Denethor. "I offer you my service, such as it is in payment of this debt."

A faint smile flickered across Denethor's face. "This is my first command to you," the Steward stated. "How did you escape and my son did not, so mighty as a man as he was?"

"Sometimes the mightiest warriors are slain by one arrow, yet Boromir was pierced by many before he fell," Robin offered.

Gandalf gently pushed Robin and Pippin aside as he approached the Steward. "My lord, there will be a time to grieve for Boromir but it is not now. War is coming. The enemy is on your doorstep. As steward, you are charged with the defense of this city. Where are Gondor's armies? You still have friends. You are not alone in this fight. Send word to Théoden of Rohan. Light the beacons."

Denethor sneered at the White Wizard. "You think you are wise Mithrandir. Yet for all your subtleties you have not wisdom. Do you think the eyes of the White Tower are blind? I have seen more than you know. With your left hand you would use me as a shield against Mordor and with your right you would seek to supplant me. I know who rides with Théoden of Rohan. Oh yes, word has reached my ears of this Aragorn, son of Arathorn. And I tell you now, I will not bow to this Ranger from the North, last of a ragged house long bereft of Lordship."

"Authority is not given to you to deny the return of the King, Steward!" Gandalf challenged.

Denethor sprang up from his seat. "The rule of Gondor is mine, and no other's!" he snarled.

Wizard and Steward glared heatedly at each other for a moment before Gandalf whirled around. "Come!" he commanded, storming out of the room.

"Well, I don't suppose that went as planned," Robin commented.

"Indeed, that did not," Gandalf fumed. "All had turned to vain ambition. He would use even his grief as a cloak! A thousand years this city has stood, and now at the whim of a madman it will fall! And the white tree, the tree of the King, will never bloom again."

Pippin gazed at the soldiers surrounding the tree. "Why are they still guarding it?"

"They guard it because they have hope," Gandalf replied. "A faint and fading hope that one day it will flower. That a king will come and this city will be as it once was before it fell into decay." The wizard heaved a sigh. "The old wisdom born out of the west was forsaken. Kings made tombs more splendid than the houses of the living and counted the old names of their descent dearer than the names of their sons. Childless lords sat in aged halls musing on heraldry or in high, cold towers asking questions of the stars. And so the people of Gondor fell into ruin. The line of Kings failed. The white tree withered. The rule of Gondor was given over to lesser men."

Pippin pressed himself against the wall, staring out at the fiery red glow in the east. "Mordor."

"Yes," Gandalf confirmed. "There it lies. This city has dwelt ever in the sight of its shadow."

"A storm is coming," Robin stated, noting the dark clouds issuing from the eastern mountains, black against the crimson fire.

"This is not the weather of the world," Gandalf corrected. "This is a device of Sauron's making. A broil of fume he sends ahead of his host. The orcs of Mordor have no love of daylight, so he covers the face of the sun to ease their passage along the road to war. When the shadow of Mordor reaches this city, it will begin." The wizard turned to the two young hobbits. "There will be no leaving this city now. Help must come to us."

So, there you have it, chapter 27!

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