Since the departing of Faramir and the cavalry to Osgiliath, Gandalf had not been seen much. The only reason that Míriel and Pippin knew that the Wizard had not left was because Shadowfax loyally stayed in the stables through the days and nights. Gandalf had been very upset by Denethor's decision as had many, but the Wizard had not able to look at the Steward for days.

The whole city had fallen into a sort of doze where no one knew what to expect. Everyone knew that as the dark clouds of Mordor approached, so would war, but that did not seem to frighten them. It was like there was no energy to be afraid for all hope was out. Míriel knew that Théoden and the rest of the Fellowship were on their way, though, and therefore she tried to keep the spirits up for herself and Pippin.

"Do you think we are going to survive this, Míriel?" Pippin asked quietly as they sat in one of the sitting rooms all alone and still dressed in Gondorian clothing.

"I certainly hope so, Pippin," she answered and closed the book she had been reading. "I had much hope before, but now... It is hard for me to see that we should come out in victory when there are men in charge who will not see it either. But we must not forget that we are not alone, we have Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas still. Right now they are riding to us with thousands of men from Rohan and places that we have never visited."

"Merry is with them too," Pippin reminded. "He'll want to fight, I know it."

They both knew it and it made them smile. Míriel thought of Merry and started to miss him dearly for it was not the same having Pippin without him. Míriel remembered the first time she met the two Hobbits and how scared they had been for Frodo, but also how quickly they had turned their worry into hunger when they arrived in Rivendell.

The two sat and talked until Míriel suddenly heard something - because raised voices were spread outside the hall. Something was wrong, that much was obvious, for all the men were shouting and running around like mad men. Míriel gestured to Pippin to follow her and they exited from the hall and out to the courtyard where the White Tree still stood strong in the middle, but alas without bloom. What was happening was something that Míriel had not found out yet, but then she saw one of the young soldiers of the citadel called Léod. He was hurrying toward Denethor who had apparently come out to the courtyard as well.

When Léod finally moved away Míriel and Pippin could see that there were four men walking behind him, holding a stretcher. It did not take long to identify the man on the stretcher as young Captain Faramir, and based on the way he laid completely still with his eyes closed, they could only assume that he had been killed.

"Oh no," Míriel whispered.

Pippin and Míriel hurried toward the stretcher which the men placed on the ground. Míriel kneeled next to him and sighed deeply. Although there had never been much hope, she now realised that they had strung to the last strand of it for somewhere they had still thought that perhaps Faramir would come back alive. He was alone, though, and Léod said that his horse had come with him, dragging him behind with two arrows in the Captain's shoulder.

"Faramir!" Denethor exclaimed and stared at his son. "Say not that he has fallen."

Denethor glanced down at Faramir but did not touch him, not that Míriel would have let him because of all he had done. It did seem like Denethor suddenly cared for his son and acted like he had not been expecting this to happen. Míriel hated the man, she despised the very sight of him and the fact that he had sent his own son to his doom, but despite all that, she could not help but feel sorry for him. The hurt in Denethor's eyes was evident to even the blindest of people, and he knew that it was his fault that his sons were dead. It was something not even the cruellest man could live with.

"They were outnumbered," Léod said. "None survived."

"My sons are spent," Denethor said and stood up, started walking away with tottering steps. "My line has ended."

Pippin suddenly gasped and Míriel turned her head toward him. Pippin had his hand on Faramir's cheek, or rather his neck. Míriel placed her hand on the other side of Faramir's head and realised that what Pippin had felt was the man's pulse indicating that he was indeed alive. It was such a stupid mistake, how could they not have tried to hear his breathing or felt his heartbeat?

"He's alive," Pippin yelled. "He needs medicine, my Lord!"

"My line has ended!" Denethor yelled, not listening to Pippin's words. Never had they met a man that was as blind as Denethor, not even now when they told him that his son was alive. Both Míriel and Pippin knew that there was no use in trying to tell the Steward for he could never listen and he could never see.

Denethor stopped walking at the edge of the courtyard, standing so that he could see over the city and the battlefield in front of him. For indeed the lands of Gondor had been filled with tens of thousands of orcs to the very end of the Pelennor Fields all the way to the waters. Denethor started shaking and even from behind they could see the steam coming out from his head in rage. The realisation had hit him like a blow to the head and sent his madness beyond of what it had been before. Denethor's eyes were burning with a fire from within as he realised how much trouble his Realm was in.

"Rohan has deserted us..." he grunted to himself. "Théoden has betrayed me. Abandon your posts! Flee, flee for your lives!"

The soldiers positioned underneath and well in the lower levels were confused by his words. Their leader had fallen and now they stood without one. That was what they thought until the White Wizard appeared and glared at Denethor with great anger. The Steward noticed his presence and turned around to face Gandalf, but could not say anything for Gandalf hit him across the head with his staff. Denethor fell to the ground unconscious and none of his men intervened for they thought him mad as well. Finally, someone had knocked some sense into the Steward of Gondor.

"Prepare for battle!" Gandalf yelled to the soldiers, marking that he had now taken charge.

After the Wizard started leading the armies of Gondor they at least had an ounce of a chance to succeed. Men were stationed strategically around the city and extra forces were to hold the gates. They had to hold out until Théoden came with his men but it was not as easy as that. The orcs were many and they were not only armed with steel, but with war machines that they loaded with huge rocks and hurled at the city. They even had the stomach to launch the heads from the dead cavalry from Osgiliath whilst the Nazguls flew over the city ready to attack.

Gandalf had called all able men to fight and those who could not, were to be taken to shelter in the hall with the women and children. Míriel was in charge of these people that she was to bring safely to the hall at the citadel, before joining the battle with Gandalf. It was not an easy task he had given her, though, for Míriel refused to leave even one child behind. More times that she could count she had ridden up and down the staircases, comforted children and assured women that she was going to find their little ones among the chaos.

"Pippin where are you going?" Míriel shouted as she saw the little Hobbit wearing a helmet and hurrying toward the gate. Pippin stopped and turned around toward her, his sword in hand. At this point, Míriel had gathered almost all she could and was ready to leave for Gandalf.

"Gandalf called for battle," Pippin answered.

"But you can't go, come with me and take shelter in the hall with the others!" Míriel said. She feared for the little Hobbit, it would be easy for him to get trodden on when the orcs broke through the gate. It would be safer for him to stay in the hall.

"No, I can't hide," Pippin said and shook his head.

"Then I'll come with you," Míriel said and sighed. She drew her sword and turned to Pippin. "Let's go then!"

They ran through the city and panic erupted when the Nazgul came flying over their heads. Their cries were ear deafening and Míriel and Pippin had to stop and press their hands over their ears to protect them from bursting. Míriel hoped that it was the fell beast that she had shot in Osgiliath and that was why he cried like never before. They did not have time to think of it, though, for they had finally arrived at Gandalf who was trying to stop the Orcs from taking the city by the gate.

"Peregrin Took!" Gandalf yelled when he saw them. "Go back to the citadel!"

"You called us up to fight," Pippin said.

Just as he had spoken, the Orcs managed to get through the gates and hurried to fight the men who were inside. The gate had been breached by the Orc's wolf head made of wood who they called Grond. Now there was nothing more left to do than to fight and do anything to stop the Orcs from getting up to the citadel where innocent people were frightened to death.

"This is no place for a Hobbit!" Gandalf said whilst fighting.

Pippin seemed to prove differently though for he drew his sword and killed an Orc all by himself before it got to Gandalf. Pippin had saved his life and now they knew that he could be brave if he wanted to - there was no doubt about that. But Míriel still worried and decided that it would be best to accompany Pippin to the citadel so that he would not feel left out.

"Guard of the citadel indeed," Gandalf said and smiled. "Now back up, quick!"

*

The night was falling and the Orcs had not yet been able to break through all the gates to Minas Tirith for Gandalf and his soldiers were holding them away from the citadel. Míriel felt hopeless for there was no leaving the city that she knew off. Though she would have never left, fled like a coward, now that she was as close to death as she had been in a long time. It would have been good to get the women and children out in some way, though. The Orcs were going to break in and when they did they would destroy them all.

Where was Théoden and the rest? Míriel had been so sure that they were on their way when the beakers had lit, but now she doubted it. What if Théoden still held onto his ridiculous idea that he should not help Gondor since they did not help him. If so, they were completely lost already. .

Pippin stood next to Míriel and they were staring out over the city, saw the fires of the Orcs and how they used the same giant wolf head made of wood to break through the gate. Suddenly Pippin turned around as he heard something. Out from the citadel came Denethor, carrying a torch and after him came soldiers bearing Faramir on a stretcher. Faramir had been washed and put into new clothes instead of being cared for as Míriel and Pippin had instructed. After him came about five of Denethor's advisors.

"I am Steward of the house of Anarion," Denethor muttered. "Thus have I walked, and thus now will I sleep." Pippin and Míriel hurried toward them but kept themselves hidden since they did not know what Denethor was doing. "Gondor is lost. There is no hope for men."

Slowly they walked after them and wondered where Denethor was going with his son. They should have cared for his wounds, but instead, it seemed that they assumed that he was dead without any more questions asked. Míriel and Pippin were sneaking after them over the bridge toward another part of the citadel where Míriel had not been yet.

"Why do the fools fly?" Denethor asked as he glanced at his men fighting for his city. "Better to die sooner than later... For die, we must."

They opened the door to a hall where the small company entered together. In the middle of the hall, there was a round platform that they slowly walked toward. Míriel and Pippin stood by the entrance and listened to Denethor.

"No tomb for Denethor and Faramir," Denethor said. "No long slow sleep, death embarked. We shall burn like the heathen kings of old. Bring wood and oil!"

Now Míriel and Pippin realised that Denethor had gone completely mad. He intended to burn himself and Faramir alive to end their suffering. There was no way that Denethor had not noticed that Faramir was not dead and therefore Míriel could only assume that Denethor wanted them both to die on their own accounts instead of being killed by Orcs. It only showed what a coward the Steward was, and that he had shamed his house. Pippin charged forward for he did not want to stand by and watch this happen to his friend.

"He's not dead!" Pippin said and ran toward the platform.

"Stop this Denethor, you will not kill your own son!" Míriel said and hurried after Pippin. She intended to walk toward Faramir, carry him if she had to, just to get him out of his father's grip. The young man had a say in his own life, although he could not speak for himself now, and therefore Míriel was going to protect him.

As soon as Míriel came close to Faramir the guards drew their swords and made a wall between her and Faramir. Míriel placed her hand on her sword but turned toward Denethor instead, walking up to him which put his guards at ease.

"Let him go," said Míriel with a voice full of despise.

"You do not command over me!" Denethor said and hit Míriel across the face.

It was a hard slap that made her fall to the ground. Míriel held her cheek and glanced up at him and she felt appalled. Never had anyone ever slapped her like that before, no one would have ever dared, but now she laid there on the ground like a dog in front of Denethor's feet. Míriel felt the anger burning inside of her but she had not the time to do anything to hurt him for he grabbed Míriel with one hand and Pippin with his other and dragged them both out of the hall.

"Peregrin, son of Paladin, I release you from my service. Lady Ilmarë, it has been a pleasure and a plague to have you here. Go now and die in what way seems best to you."

They were thrown out like dogs and the doors closed with a lock. Míriel touched her sore face but decided to soon forget about it because there were more important matters at hand. One day she would get her revenge on Denethor and then he would be sorry, but it was not this hour. She turned to Pippin instead and had a plan burning in her head that she needed to tell him.

"Go get Gandalf," Míriel whispered to Pippin where they laid on the ground. "I will try to stop him."

Pippin nodded and started running while Míriel tried everything to unlock the door; even trying to unlock it with her powers. She refused to let Faramir die when he was going to be alright as soon as he was away from his father. The lock was solid, though, and there was no way of opening it that Míriel knew of.

The sun was already starting to rise when Míriel glanced over the view of Minas Tirith. If it was not for all the sounds of battle and the sight of the men fighting underneath of where she stood, she could have gazed at the dawn and pretended that it was any other day.

Pippin had not shown yet and it had been over an hour since she sent him away. Míriel hurried to the bridge toward the citadel to try and see where her friends could be. The sight she was met by was not what she would have wanted, for down in the level under hers sat Gandalf on Shadowfax with Pippin behind. In front of them sat a Nazgul on his beast, but it was not any Nazgul.

He wore a sort of crown that looked more like a helmet. It was the Witch-King of Angmar, the leader of the Nazgul and Sauron's second-in-command. Once he had been a Númenórean king of men but he had, like the other kings, been corrupted by one of the nine Rings of Power that were given to him and became undead. For thousands of years had he dwelled in Angmar, his own kingdom until he returned to Mordor to lead this army against Minas Tirith. This was the wraith that had stabbed Frodo, and now he sat right in front of the White Wizard Mithrandir.

"Go back to the abyss!" Gandalf yelled.

"Do you not know death when you see it, old man?" she Witch-King said. "You have failed. The world of Men will fall." He drew his sword and it started to burn, and his power made Gandalf's staff break. Gandalf fell to the ground with Pippin and now they waited for the Nazgul to kill them both.

But right then, they heard a horn from the west and Míriel widened her eyes when she saw the great army of men coming at the front. Finally, Théoden had arrived in Minas Tirith. Míriel saw that they were fewer than the Orcs, but they were many indeed and these were new soldiers that were not tired. The Orcs started forming ranks to meet the attack but the men waited for their King to give them a command. The horns were heard again and Míriel witnessed as the men started riding toward the Orcs, and she suddenly felt something she had not felt in a long time. She felt relief, for finally, someone had come to help them in this darkness.

Maybe she had been staring at them for hours, she did not know, but Gandalf and Pippin were suddenly riding right towards her in full speed toward the hall where Faramir was still in danger. Shadowfax had the force enough to kick the doors open which allowed Gandalf to ride inside and Míriel right behind him on foot.

"Stay this madness!" Gandalf cried.

"You may triumph on the field of battle for a day," Denethor said, standing on the bonfire with a torch in his hand already and with Faramir lying among the wood. "But against the power that is risen in the east, there is no victory." He dropped the torch and the wood started burning. Gandalf rode toward them and grabbed a spear, pushed Denethor down and Pippin jumped to get Faramir.

Míriel ran and helped the Hobbit to roll the man down from the bonfire and put the fire out from his clothing. Faramir was still unconscious but alive still, but he was covered in oil that would have made him burn easily. It was fortunate that Gandalf had come when he came for it had not been long before Faramir and Denethor would be no more.

"No!" Denethor yelled and grabbed Pippin suddenly. "You will not take my son from me!"

Gandalf rode forward and his horse kicked Denethor down to the fire again. He laid there on his back and saw Faramir opening his eyes slightly, glancing at his father half out of consciousness. Míriel did not want him to look for it was not a pretty sight seeing how Denethor's face grew red from the fire and how he his blood started to boil.

"Faramir..." Denethor whispered and a hint of a smile played on his lips.

It was too late for happiness from the Steward, though, for he soon caught fire which made him scream out in agony. Denethor hurried to stand up but instead of rolling on the floor to put the fire out, he started running which only made it worse. Denethor ran until he was seen no more and fell from the top of the citadel until he finally met his doom.

"So passes Denethor, son of Ecthelion," Gandalf said, watching him.