An Acceptance

As soon as Raina got out of the courtyard, she was greeted with orcs. Grinning to herself, she unsheathed her sword, cutting down as many as possible and still be on the lookout for either Pippin or Gandalf.

The orcs here were a million times easier, and stupider, than the Uruk-Hai at Helm’s Deep, and Raina made sure to tell as many orcs that as she could, just to piss them off. She now could look at an orc, know its weakest point, and when to strike in accordance to their weapon, which was much different from when she had first started with the Fellowship. But that really wasn’t what she was thinking about as the time passed.

Instead, she was thinking that with every orc that got in her way was making the chances of her Faramir surviving slimmer and slimmer, and her nervous butterflies fluttered in her stomach with each orc stepping in her way.

Finally, after what felt like forever and a year, Raina finally stumbled upon her short friend, locked in combat with a short orc. Just as Raina dashed out to him, another appeared behind him, its weapon raised to kill Pippin.

With a war cry, Raina swung down on its neck, killing it instantly. The other orc, being distracted by the Elf, was killed by Pippin. The Hobbit looked down at his bloody blade in mixed shock and horror.

“I just killed…” he was saying before Raina yanked him into the shadows.

Pippin looked up at her. “That was you… who yelled? Who beheaded that orc?”

Raina nodded solemnly.

“Wow… you’ve changed… so much.”

The Hobbit didn’t say anything further after seeing Raina’s distressed expression.

“Listen,” she whispered. “Faramir is with us yet, but Denethor is trying to burn him alive. He would not listen to me if I were to tell him his son was alive,” she glanced back out at the fight around them. “I’m going in there to try and save him. But if I don’t come out, I need you to find Gandalf and tell him everything I just told you.”

Pippin nodded enthusiastically, but his face was solemn. Raina felt sorry for him. That must have been what she was like when she first saw death and battle. She had changed so much.

She didn’t have to look behind her as she sprinted up the stairs and through the war torn streets to know that the Hobbit was running after her, almost just as fast.

**

The huge oaken doors burst open in the near-silence as the Elf-girl sprinted in, barely showing any sign of her haste besides her wide, nearly-crazed-with-worry eyes.

All the guards’ heads snapped up in unison as she held the doors open, searching the chamber for the soul she was looking for. Once her eyes locked on his unmoving body, and her eyes widened slightly, did Denethor look up at her. He tore his eyes from his son’s body, their expression turning from utter despair to hatred.

As he glared at her, she spoke, her voce shaky with fear of screwing this up for the both of them.

“My Lord, you must listen to me. Your son, Faramir, he’s alive! You- you must get him some medicine, to save him!”

Denethor’s scowl deepened as he watched the desperate girl.

“Did I not order you away form here,” he started, his own voice shaking with anger, “on pain of death?!”

Raina nodded, her teeth chattering. “Y-yes, my Lord.”

“THEN WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING HERE?!”

Even Raina was shaken up as the Steward’s suddenly-booming voice reverberated against the walls of the chamber.

After recovering from her shock, she started forward, showing her hands open and in front of her as if she were approaching a frightened, and potentially dangerous, dog.

“Please, let me help your son. We must tend to him if he is going to recover,” she cooed, hoping her voice overcame her fear and worry and appeared disarming.

Instead, the Steward’s eyes flared with hatred and malice.

“You will not take my son from me!” he howled before motioning for the guards without words.

Raina spun around towards the doors, knowing she didn’t stand much of a chance against all the elite, trained guards of the Steward.

“Pippin!” she shrieked before they all surrounded her. “Gandalf!”