The Last Dreamwalker

Trouble in Minas Tirith

The trio crossed a shallow, slow-moving river, splashing their clothes and getting drenched all over again.

Lessien grew extremely weary of riding because she and Gandalf had ridden endlessly for the past four days, non-stop.

Despite the hard labor of riding so far and so hard, she told herself that the time off had probably done her some good. She had had hours of time to think on the incident that had occurred in the mountains and of the vision she had received.

Leasien had come to terms with her new life without Legolas or her father by her side.

Just like the beginning, Lessien assured herself. On my own. It shouldn't be hard. Love is a weakness I cannot dabble with now.

Lessien told herself that she had to be brave. Legolas was now the part of her that was made of scars, just like the ones on her body. It was the part of her that was made up of pieces of someone else's broken heart.

She had told herself that she would be much more careful from now on and avoid trouble. She hoped against hope Legolas would do the same.

This was war, they had both survived wars before. Why should this one be any different?

"Thank you, Gandalf," Lessien spoke for the first time in days and her voice was weak, cracked by the wind and dehydration.

The wizard raised a bushy eyebrow as Shadowfax and Ormë scaled a hill that lay in their was.

"Why do you thank me so?"

Pippin listened in as soon as Lessien began to speak, his gaze intent.

"For bringing me to Minas Tirith. I am not promising my success in battle, though I wish I could. I am glad I could be rid of the others, for the tension between us was growing unbearable."

In other words, Lessien kept digging at their minds and testing their weaknesses. Always picking fights that no one could really win. She was afraid that she might break someone beyond repair. For her father she especially feared.

"You do look better, healthier altogether," Gandalf noted, looking her up and down. "You have made some hard decisions. To leave your father's side when he so desperately needs you to back his armies. To depart with Legolas, your lover, though he is in grave danger. All for a larger cause, though that cause may not be quite as personal. I wish I could say that these choices you have made I speak of could be your last challenge."

Lessien could not help rolling her eyes in annoyance, for it seemed Gandalf could not go without a minute without being cryptic in some way. Abruptly, she recalled an object of great importance she meant to discuss with the wizard.

"Gandalf, I mean to speak to you of something that has been bothering me," Lessien began but she instantly froze when the fortress Minas Tirith came into view.

So this is the great city Father always speaks of, Lessien thought to herself as she observed the White City.

It was made of entirely white stone and it seemed as if it had been erected from the ground itself.

Layers of the city stacked upon each other, split in half by a large, protruding parapet that cast a shadow on half the city.

In contrast to the smaug that crept out of Mordor and plagued the air, the white city was dazzlingly pure. It seemed to stand as a beacon of hope, reminding all of Middle Earth of what chance against evil men still had.

"Behold, Minas Tirith. White City of Kings, jewel of Gondor and birthright of your father," Gandalf proclaimed boldly, a slight smile creeping onto his face.