His Queen

Chapter 44 - Alana

As Gandalf, Alana, and Pippin galloped across the plains and through the dense forest, Alana was happy to take in the sights. The plains were bathed in golden sunlight, the tall grass swaying in the breeze as the horses thundered by. The dense forest was filled with trees stretching towards the sky, casting shadows that danced along the forest floor. The white walls of Minas Tirith stood tall and proud, a beacon of hope in the distance. The air was alive with the scent of fresh grass and blooming wildflowers, the earthy musk of the forest filling their nostrils. As they splashed through the river, the cool mist of the water brushed against their faces, refreshing and invigorating.

Gandalf's voice cut through the sound of hooves pounding the earth. "We have just passed into the realm of Gondor."

Alana's eyes scanned the horizon, taking in the sight of the legendary city that loomed ahead. The towering white walls rose high into the sky, their once majestic exterior now marred with the passage of time and the burden of duty. The city seemed to sag under the weight of its responsibilities, yet there was still a sense of pride and grandeur in its presence. It was a place she had heard much about but had never seen with her own eyes. There was something majestic about it, but also something forlorn, as if it had been weighed down by years of duty and neglect.

As they rode up a hill, the great white city of Minas Tirith came into full view. Its towering structures stood proud against the backdrop of the mountains, but there was an undeniable heaviness in the air.

"Minas Tirith," Gandalf said quietly, reverence and urgency in his tone. "City of Kings."

The three of them galloped through the city streets, their horses' hooves echoing off the stone walls. Pippin glanced around wide-eyed, while Alana, more reserved, kept her focus straight ahead, her thoughts lingering on the responsibility they bore. She had wanted to come to Gondor to check on Boromir's brother, Faramir. The news of Boromir's death would surely weigh heavily on him, and she couldn't shake the feeling that Faramir needed her support.

At the topmost level of the city, they finally halted in front of a massive white hall. Alana and Pippin dismounted, following Gandalf closely as they made their way toward the great doors. They passed the dead white tree, its lifeless branches a stark contrast to the grandeur around them.

Pippin's eyes widened as he spotted the tree. "It's the tree! Gandalf, Gandalf," he whispered urgently, tugging on Gandalf's sleeve.

Gandalf glanced over at the dead tree, his face grim. "Yes, the white tree of Gondor. The tree of the King. But Lord Denethor is not the King. He is a steward only, a caretaker of the throne."

Alana's brow furrowed. She knew the power struggles in Gondor ran deep, and as much as she had come to check on Faramir, the complicated political situation would not make this visit any easier. Aragorn was the rightful King to the throne, she had believed that all her life and from what she had heard from both Faramir and Boromir, Denethor was not the kind of man that should be sitting on the throne, even as a steward.

Gandalf stopped just before they entered the hall and turned to Pippin. "Now listen carefully," he instructed, his tone serious. "Lord Denethor is Boromir's father. To give him news of his beloved son's death would be most unwise. And do not mention Frodo or the Ring. And say nothing of Aragorn either. In fact, it's better if you don't speak at all, Peregrin Took."

Alana placed a reassuring hand on Pippin's shoulder as Gandalf finished his instructions. "Just stay quiet, go it." she whispered to herself and Pippin who looked up at her with a wry smile.

Together, they walked through the massive hall, the grandeur of the place overwhelming, but the atmosphere inside felt cold. They moved forward, approaching the throne where a man sat in a seat at the base of the steps. Lord Denethor.