Fìriel

Lighthouse in the Fog

((This is a boring, filler chapter, I still like it though, don't kill me yet k?))
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I contemplate my situation and what had occurred between Gríma's attack and now while riding through the fields of grass, watching the millions of slender shadows that the long grass cast upon other blades of grass, swaying in the light breeze; almost mesmerized by this and by Fwalda's black hooves rhythmically stomping on the over-dry ground. We have been traveling for a couple days now, finally seeing sparse forest ahead to Gondor.

After I had been Henedan's cottage for hours, still calming down, talking, another guard that stayed with Henadan came in to rest and I had to leave. I returned to my cottage safely and told Éowyn what had transpired; Horrified, she agreed that it is best for me to leave, even though I felt terrible leaving her in Edoras. She proclaimed that the servants of the Mark, especially as one as influential as I, needed to be kept unmarred and safe from Wormtongue's forked tongue lurking about bending their minds to whatever ill will.

When Éomer and Théodred arrived with the éored, I had told both men about what had happened and the agreed unanimously. Also, as Henedan insisted, he would join me to Minas Tirith, his smug, yet playful smile appeared upon his lips as soon as he heard Éomer's order. But I do feel much more comfortable with his presence on this trek.

Parting with Éomer was difficult since I had only seen him since he came back for only two days, then my party left. At first he was reluctant to let me go, though he knew I'd be safer away from Medusled, Gríma. On the night before I left Éomer had already said his tender goodbyes.

"Deep in thought once again, Fíriel?" Henadan's voice boomed, knocking me out of my thoughts.

I only hummed in reply, Henadan pulled his chestnut horse up close enough to to hear my quiet answer.

"We will be able to see Minas Tirith soon enough, we are already over half way there." He continued his small talk, I didn't want to engage in a conversation at the moment, he broke me from actually good thoughts, thoughts that I wanted to remember again. I blush for a moment thinking how I was thinking of Éomer once again.

Although he and I aren't 'officially' courting, it is known to almost everyone that we may as well be. I cannot stop thinking about him when I am not near him, it is almost driving me mad.

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The rest of the day went swiftly and uneventfully to Minas Tirith, riding hard to get there as quickly as possible, for we feared orc raids. There were a few signs that they had been there recently and we did not want to fall to that fate.

Fwalda and I stood from afar to view the Citadel, the sun streaming behind me, making the hair that is falling before my face seem blonde in the sun's rays as I push it impatiently behind my ear.

Minas Tirith! in all of her glory; she stood tall in the evening sun, her white walls shining, a obvious contrast to the dark clouds beyond the City.

Somewhat of a Lighthouse in the Fog, I thought rather wistfully, thinking of where my diplomatic journeys I have taken to Lebennin and Belfalas, where tall, bright lighthouses signaled where the shore started, warning ships and sailors not to come too close.

This led me into this conclusion: as such a beacon of Hope Minas Tirith is, she is also like the lighthouse in both senses, a warning light against the shore: Mordor. If Minas Tirith falls unto the impending War, all of good Men shall swiftly fall after in other places. Men very well might not help in their - no, Our fight. All the Children of Ilúvatar should fight against this Evil, but some are failing, take the egregious Haradrim for example.

The conclusion in my mind states: the race of men are weak, I have said this before, but my outlook is generally more doubtful. This entire conflict proves that Men cannot get along together, how do we even expect to survive this evil when so much prevails within our own kind?

I sigh and push Fwalda on though the fields.

***

Life in Minas Tirith was too, I dare say it: boring.

What official work I had assigned was done within the first few days here. Lord Denethor was never too keen to work with me, being as I am a woman in a man's world with politics. Faramir and Boromir are out of the City on missions, Faramir out in Ithilen and Boromir onto the elven city, Imladris; though it's been months ago he set out.

My red dress flutters in the cold, brisk wind, I wrap my shawl around me tighter. February twenty sixth, nearly March, I do hate the winter, in the North it is worse, one of the reasons I came to Rohan.

As I snuggle into the warmth of my shawl, I see a dot in the distance. My brows crinkled a bit, who could that be? I wanted to go back inside my room, instead I started for the gate of the City.

I pass many homes built into stone, a lot are not occupied anymore, the women, elderly, and children already started to evacuate and men are training to fight. They are at least preparing for the impending war.

The people are still pondering the Prophesy and Boromir's journey, but their minds are now being more occupied by the growing darkness in the East.

I'm not sure I want to be here right now.

I know how to fight, though, I am scared stiff when I must usually, hence my paralyzed reaction to Gríma; but I also hate to go and flee with the women, elderly, and children.

I just want to go home.

I stand at the gate, awaiting the ever-growing dot, in the midst of the shining guards of the Citadel. It's a messenger from Rohan upon a fast steed: Théodred is dead.
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((Sorry long note again haha))

Hello guysss, a bit of a filler... soon it'll get better since I put a lot of the boring stuff in this one.. Action will begin soon!!!!
(I have to work on my action scenes though.. Gotta ask how to do awesome and affective moves and stuff from someone..)

Oh and I'm paying very close attention to the dates in here, so everything is up to par and stuff :)
Feb. 26 is the breaking of the fellowship, and the day before was Théodred's death.
So when I say that messenger was swift, i mean swift, man. Whoosh! Lol (work with me here)

OHHH and that pic there? See it? Okay. That's Henadan. I was looking for a good Henadan and I found this, Tom Mison, he plays as ichabod crane on sleepy hollow. (I never heard of this show until now) but yeah, he looks exactly like what I envisioned Henadan as.
THOUGHTS????
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I seem like a spaz oh my .... ty and ily -kenna