‹ Prequel: A Burden
An Acceptance
Whispers in Osgiliath
It was dark out and Raina was meant to be sleeping. On the makeshift bed opposite hers, Pippin was sitting awake as well, lost in his own world. Tomorrow would be a big day for him, because he was reciting his lines for the Steward.
The silence was pierced by Pippin’s whisper. “Hey, Raina. You awake?”
She rolled over to face her friend. “Yeah,” she whispered back.
“Do you…. Would you mind coming to my initiation tomorrow?” he rushed. Raina gave a small laugh.
“Of course, Pip. You don’t want to be alone with the Steward to scare you to death.”
He sighed in relief and sank into his mattress.
“Goodnight, Raina.”
“Goodnight, Pippin.”
***
Raina woke early the next morning, wiping the sleep out of her eyes reluctantly. Her first day in Minas Tirith certainly had not been close to pleasant, and she suspected her second would not be any better.
On the other side of the room, Pippin was already dressed in his uniform and was cleaning his sword.
“They say I’m going to have to fight,” he said, not looking up, but still knowing that Raina was awake.
“It’s not pleasant,” Raina said, memories flooding into her mind of Helm’s Deep. She had been terrified that night, and she knew she would never forget the horrors of battle.
Pippin sighed. “I do not wish to be in battle, but sitting at the edge of one… this is even worse.”
Raina nodded in agreement before getting ready for the day ahead of them.
***
Raina and Pippin stood outside the Hall, waiting for Pippin to be invited in. Well rather, Pippin was pacing outside, cursing himself, and Raina was sitting in the shadows silently, people watching. Minas Tirith was, by far, the strangest place she had been on her journey.
“What were you thinking, Peregrin Took? What service can a Hobbit offer such a great lord of Men?” Pippin was asking himself.
“Great Lord,” Raina snorted, but too quietly for anyone to hear her. She had heard Denethor speaking to himself, as well as Boromir last night. He was off his rocker and disgusting.
“It was well done,” a familiar voice called. Raina looked up from her place in the shadows, but Faramir was not talking to her. It was very likely that he had not even noticed her. Her keen ears caught a piece of language, one foreign to the area. The orcs were speaking in Osgiliath, and Raina was now curious to hear what of.
"A generous deed should not be checked with cold counsel. You are to join the tower guard."
Pippin looked up at him solemnly for a moment before breaking out into a smile.
“I didn’t think that they would find any livery that would fit me,” he said with a grin.
Faramir studied Pippin for a moment, a hidden smile on his face.
“Once belonged to a young boy of the city. A very foolish one who wasted more time slaying dragons than attending his studies.”
“This was yours?” Pippin asked incredulously, looking down at the uniform.
“Yes, it was mine. My father had it made for me,” the Man said, a hint of sadness in his voice.
"Well… I'm taller than you were then. Though I'm not likely to grow anymore, except sideways."
The two laughed together, and Raina bent her head in concentration, listening for any more pieces of information. Her forefingers rubbed her temples while her thumbs held her jaw as she tried to clear her headache.
“Oh! And this here is my friend, Raina,” Pippin announced, motioning to the girl in the shadows. The Man jumped as he noticed there was someone else there, but did not say anything. Raina slowly lifted her head, frustrated that she had heard no more, and looked at Faramir with an emotionless expression.
“We’ve met,” she said passively. There was a short awkward silence, in which Faramir opened his mouth, as if to speak, but a guard opened the grand doors and told Pippin that his audience was requested.
Pippin straightened himself out and walked into the Hall, trying to not look nervous. Raina slipped in after him, silent as a snowflake in the night, and after her strode in Faramir, the only one with his eyes not downcast or focused on another point than the Steward.
The silence was pierced by Pippin’s whisper. “Hey, Raina. You awake?”
She rolled over to face her friend. “Yeah,” she whispered back.
“Do you…. Would you mind coming to my initiation tomorrow?” he rushed. Raina gave a small laugh.
“Of course, Pip. You don’t want to be alone with the Steward to scare you to death.”
He sighed in relief and sank into his mattress.
“Goodnight, Raina.”
“Goodnight, Pippin.”
***
Raina woke early the next morning, wiping the sleep out of her eyes reluctantly. Her first day in Minas Tirith certainly had not been close to pleasant, and she suspected her second would not be any better.
On the other side of the room, Pippin was already dressed in his uniform and was cleaning his sword.
“They say I’m going to have to fight,” he said, not looking up, but still knowing that Raina was awake.
“It’s not pleasant,” Raina said, memories flooding into her mind of Helm’s Deep. She had been terrified that night, and she knew she would never forget the horrors of battle.
Pippin sighed. “I do not wish to be in battle, but sitting at the edge of one… this is even worse.”
Raina nodded in agreement before getting ready for the day ahead of them.
***
Raina and Pippin stood outside the Hall, waiting for Pippin to be invited in. Well rather, Pippin was pacing outside, cursing himself, and Raina was sitting in the shadows silently, people watching. Minas Tirith was, by far, the strangest place she had been on her journey.
“What were you thinking, Peregrin Took? What service can a Hobbit offer such a great lord of Men?” Pippin was asking himself.
“Great Lord,” Raina snorted, but too quietly for anyone to hear her. She had heard Denethor speaking to himself, as well as Boromir last night. He was off his rocker and disgusting.
“It was well done,” a familiar voice called. Raina looked up from her place in the shadows, but Faramir was not talking to her. It was very likely that he had not even noticed her. Her keen ears caught a piece of language, one foreign to the area. The orcs were speaking in Osgiliath, and Raina was now curious to hear what of.
"A generous deed should not be checked with cold counsel. You are to join the tower guard."
Pippin looked up at him solemnly for a moment before breaking out into a smile.
“I didn’t think that they would find any livery that would fit me,” he said with a grin.
Faramir studied Pippin for a moment, a hidden smile on his face.
“Once belonged to a young boy of the city. A very foolish one who wasted more time slaying dragons than attending his studies.”
“This was yours?” Pippin asked incredulously, looking down at the uniform.
“Yes, it was mine. My father had it made for me,” the Man said, a hint of sadness in his voice.
"Well… I'm taller than you were then. Though I'm not likely to grow anymore, except sideways."
The two laughed together, and Raina bent her head in concentration, listening for any more pieces of information. Her forefingers rubbed her temples while her thumbs held her jaw as she tried to clear her headache.
“Oh! And this here is my friend, Raina,” Pippin announced, motioning to the girl in the shadows. The Man jumped as he noticed there was someone else there, but did not say anything. Raina slowly lifted her head, frustrated that she had heard no more, and looked at Faramir with an emotionless expression.
“We’ve met,” she said passively. There was a short awkward silence, in which Faramir opened his mouth, as if to speak, but a guard opened the grand doors and told Pippin that his audience was requested.
Pippin straightened himself out and walked into the Hall, trying to not look nervous. Raina slipped in after him, silent as a snowflake in the night, and after her strode in Faramir, the only one with his eyes not downcast or focused on another point than the Steward.