Caran shook her hair into her face slightly. Her ears burned. A telling sign that people were talking about her. She did not need to be psychic to know what they were thinking. Who is that plain looking girl with one of the lords of Gondor? He must pity her. There surely cannot be anything she could offer him. they were right if they were thinking that. Caran came from a peasant family. There was no hope of her reaching any nobility that would make her worthy of Boromir's affections. Here her mind was rambling. Borimir was probably just being a gentleman.

Faramir caught Lona's eyes and held her gaze tenderly. "I do hope you will stay a while after your business. I would so much enjoy getting to know you better, Lona." His voice carressed her name softly. He did so enjoy saying it, he could not stop smiling.

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"Do not mind them, my lady. They are merely jealous." a guess on his part, as he observed her actions carefully. "But I found you first." he dared a wink and a grin at her.

"I...would have to check with Caran, I may be a commanding officer, but her opin.." she was cut off as she looked into his eyes. "Yes." she decided suddenly. where did that come from? And who said it? her mind accused. She was tempted to look around to see who had said it. But she knew it had been her...but..why? She found herself returning his smile, albeit somewhat shyly.

Merely jealous. I found you first. The words ran in succession through her mind, to the point she was almost dizzy. Caran returned his grin, shyly. "Meaning that I am yours, my lord?" she asked, straining to keep the excitement leaking into her voice. She struggled to maintain her lady like composure. She wanted to dance and yell about her happiness at the top of her lungs.

"I am glad," Faramir smiled, no word of a lie in his eyes. "You may stay as long as you desire, my lady. I could not bare for you to leave." He said softly. They had reached the seventh sanctum. Faramir bowed his head to the guard that stood at the citadel. They walked down as long hall to the throne room, where the found Denathor.

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Boromir winked again, silent as they reached the place where his father resided. Let her guess, let her suffer in wondering if that is what he meant. Afterall, he hardly knew her yet.

Lona had no time to reply, as they had reached Denethor's hall. They approached, and when the got close enough, Lona dipped her head out of respect. "My Lord..we have news from Rohan." shesaid quietly. Her voice was strong, confident, yet respectful.

Caran raised her brow at Boromir. Have I misread him? Most likely... She shook herself. Now was not the time for fathoming the games of men. Now was the time for business.

Denathor looked from his sons, to the women that stood beside them. A shudder ran through him at the mention of Rohan. He raised his hand, beckoning them closer. "What news do you bring from Rohan?" he asked, his eyes full of suspicion. His hands worked the arms of his throne impatiently.

Caran stepped forward hesitantly. "My lord, Rohan came under Uruk hai attack a few days ago. We barely survived it. The Uruks had been sent by Saruman the White. We believe him to be in league with Mordor. Realising this, we had to come and warn you. We fear you may face a similar attack." Caran glanced at Lona momentarily, before turning to read Denathor's expression.

It seemed as though Denathor had aged a decade. "The Uruk number was great. Ten thousand strong right? An army sent for the destruction of men." His trembling hands stroked his chin.

"You knew?" Caran gasped. "How could you?!"

Denathor hauled himself from his chair and struck Caran across the cheek, his ring leaving a small gash. "No peasant shall speak to me that way!" He grumbled. "I know who fought with you," he accused. "I know who will ride here, should we call for aid. The throne is mine!"

Caran stepped back, her hand on her cheek. Her eyes were wide with shock. "That throne belongs to Isildur's heir and no other."

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Lona's eyes sparked, and she stepped forward, pulling Caran back with the authoritive gesture of the commanding officer.

"The throne belongs to the King, Steward, not to you!" her voice boomed in the room.

Boromir frowned. This wasn't good.

Faramir sighed as he watched his concerns being confirmed. He bowed his head shamefully. He should have done more. What more could he have done against a stubborn man such as his father. He looked to his brother helplessly. "What do we do?" he whispered. Faramir realised that with such revelations it was unlikely that Lona would stay. Suddenly he stepped forward, his arms open. "Father, no one can deny that you have done all that was in your power to keep Gondor safe. Let that continue. There is no word to describe the threat that faces us now. You must call for aid."

"You are blind Faramir. These women seek to supplant me and use Gondor as a shield against Sauron and his armies. I am not fooled by their looks as easily as you two have been. I brought you up better than that. Take these peasants from my sight. Do not let them near the beacon." He glared down at Lona and Caran.

Caran glared back at Denathor. "Then Gondor shall fall. You have doomed us all." Caran turned abruptly and stalked out of the Stewards chambers. Once outside, she caught her breath. She did not understand what had come over her. She had always been so obedient with higher authorities. The thought of Denathor and his stupidity, turned her stomach.

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Lona fumed, and stood her ground. "I am a commanding officer of the Rohan army. We sent for aid, we asks you for help! Would you so willingly and blatantly refuse and see the whole of middle earth fall under Sauron? A reign so terrible not even you, on your high horse, will survive?" she snarled, her lips curling in a sneer. "You, your sons, and Gondor will fall due to your stupidity!" her voice echoed around the hall, and she remained where she was with clenched fists.
"And how dare you call me a peasant! I am the daughter of a slain lord of Rohan!"

"It would do you well to leave my chambers now young lady. My patience runs thin with unruly captains." He was almost menacing. "You have as much cheek as your friend. You ought to be careful. You could end up getting worse than she."

"Father! That is enough!" Faramir's fists were clenched. "If you will not heed their warning. I will. I will not allow Gondor to fall into shadow." His eyes lighted upon Lona. " Come with me. I will need your help."

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Boromir had followed Caran. "Please, understand..my father is old, and set in his ways!" he reached out to grab her hand.

Lona glared at Denethor and was about to step forward when Faramir's words stopped her. Her head swing around and she gaped at him, nodding dumbly.

"He is a stubborn, power hungry man." Caran replied. "I know he is your father and you have to stand by him. But I cannot stand idly by and watch Gondor fall." Caran's cheeks were warm again, she brought her hand to her cheek. She was surprised to find something wet. Drawing her hand back, she was further surprised to find her fingertips red. Caran simply shrugged her shoulders. "Your father cannot deny that Mordor is coming. You cannot fight this battle alone. You need help." She turned to face Boromir.

Faramir held his hand out to Lona. "If he will not save Gondor. We will have to do it ourselves," he whispered low enough for only Lona to hear. His eyes flicked from Lona to his father. "If that is your choice, we have no choice, but to accept it."

Denathor raised his thick brows. "What are you planning boy?"
Faramir turned, giving his father no answers.
"You will turn your back on me and go against my own wishes? Do so and I will never forgive you. You disappoint me Faramir."
"Haven't I always?" Faramir called over his shoulder before walking out the door.

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Boromir stared at her fingers. "Why are they...?" his wide eyes looked back up to her.

Lona couldn't take it. She jerked her hand from Faramir's and strode up closer to Denethor, fire burning in her eyes as she sneered at him with open disdain. "He is your son, Coward!" her voice rang loudly through the halls. "And he has a better judgement than you on these things, worm. You should respect your own family. Of course you couldn't though, being an arrogant, power hungry idiot! The rightful king will return and take the throne after this. Mark my words. You will be put to shame." she hissed, then turned and strode through the great doors.

Caramel traced the small gash on her cheek, created by Denathor's ring. "Doesn't matter," she said simply. "Nothing to bother about," she rubbed the trickle of blood away. Catania turned to see Faramir and Lona approaching. "I imagined that going many ways, but not this way," she sighed. "What do we do now?"

"We send for aid." Faramir announced.
"But your father..."
"Is sick and cannot carry out his duties anymore. We must do it for him." Faramir looked to his brother, almost apologetically.

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Caran **

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Boromir jerked out a kerchief from his pocket and tilted her head, dabbing at the smears of blood gently while sensing his brother a far from gentle glare. "We can't go against Father's wishes, Brother! He would exile us! You know that!" He hissed.

Lona began pacing, watching the whole scene unravel with narrowed eyes. Then, she squared her shoulders and began walking towards the inn to get her things. "I will go seek out aid." she said quickly, firmly.

"Thank you," Carsn whispered to Boromir. Her eyes were fixed on the ground, her mind deep in thought. "Your brother is right Faramir. You cannot disappoint your father...but I can..." Her eyes were suddenly scaling the mountain to where the beacon rested. "I will alert Rohan," she stated, glancing over at Lona.

"Thank you for your concern." Faramir fixed Boromir and Carsn with a sorrowful gaze. "But all I will ever be to him is a disappointment to him. I will not disappoint Gondor though." His eyes followed Lona. "I will go and help Lona find aid elsewhere." He took off immediately after Lona.

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