The Last Dreamwalker

The Burning of Faramir

"Alright, Pippin. We have arrived," Lessien announced. She knelt down beside him, putting both of her hands on his shoulders.

"Stay here. Do not leave this time. We cannot have you on the battlefield until it is absolutely necessary. I do not want to see you hurt, Pip," she whispered. For some reason a lump formed in her throat.

"It is a war after all, Lessien. You're going to see people you love hurt."

"I know," she replied.

"This may be goodbye," Pippin mustered.

Lessien bit her lip and then pulled him into an embrace that he returned. "I love you. You are one of the bravest men I have ever been acquainted with. You have helped the righteous cause of this war."

"And you will end this war completely," Pippin assured her.

Lessien pulled him back and held him at arm's length and then kissed him on the forehead before getting to her feet. "I have to go retrieve my armour. It must be somewhere. You should go to my room, or perhaps even stay in my room."

With that, she swiftly headed into the palace, going through the training room.

She ripped some of the linen from her trousers and tied it awkwardly around her shoulder, wrapping under her arm, as to bandage her most recent wound.

Lessien needed to find that armour. She needed to. If not that, she would borrow some.

Immediately upon entering, Lessien saw that many wooden tables had been dragged into the room, sets of armor laid out. They were all polished and shined and ready for use.

There were three boys there, busy at work.

Lessien gaped. "What is this?" she asked.

They all looked up at her and stood back.

"Um. Sorry m'lady. We just thought it would be a good idea if we helped with armour. We're too young to fight and the soldiers said we should stay here and make ourselves useful. We can clean it all up. Perhaps it wasn't our place but we are skilled in this whole sort of thing. That's our job even when there isn't a ragin' war goin' on."

"Oh, no. Keep at it, actually. Well done, boys. Well done. Just let the soldiers know what you are up to. People could always do with armour repairs."

"Are these yours?" One of the other boys asked.

He held up Lessien's breastplate, which was clearly made for a female, gesturing to the other pieces of armour behind him.

Lessien smiled brightly. "Yes! Thank you, I was looking for it all earlier. I have a few things to do first so hold them here. Good job, lads." With that, she left, not before she clapped the boys roughly on their shoulders.

She was walking to enter the throne room and great hall, where she knew many women and children were taking shelter. As she was walking, she passed a minor entrance to the palace in time to see Pippin thrown out and the door slammed behind him. Upon seeing Lessien, he scrambled to his feet.

"Lessien! Lessien!"

"Whatever is the matter with you?"

"It's Faramir! Denethor's gone completely mad! You thought he was bad before? His son's near-death has tipped him over the edge!"

"Slow down, slow down! What's wrong?"

"Denethor plans to burn him and his son alive!"

Lessien's eyes widened. "Are they in there?"

Pippin nodded fervently.

"Come then!" Lessien took off and ran to the doors, shoving them open, stepping into the room and making her way down the hall.