His Queen

Chapter 45 - Alana

Alana moved silently through the ruined streets of Osgiliath, her cloak drawn tightly around her as she approached the soldiers going about their routine duties—sharpening blades, tending fires, and keeping watch. The atmosphere was tense, as if everyone was bracing for something terrible, something inevitable. She scanned the area until her eyes landed on Faramir, his tall figure unmistakable as he moved amongst his men, speaking with quiet authority.

She hadn't seen him since they had parted, and though their relationship had been brief, there was something undeniable between them—a connection forged not just in words, but in the unspoken bond of two souls who understood the weight of duty, the burden of loss. Before she could stop herself, she thought of the kiss they had shared before he left for Osgiliath, the moment that had lingered in her mind ever since.

Faramir was speaking to Madril, one of his closest soldiers, when Alana finally approached. She kept her hood drawn low, her steps light and deliberate as she neared him. His voice carried over the ruins.

"It's been very quiet across the river," Faramir said, his tone serious, as if sensing the calm before a storm.

Madril responded, "The Orcs are lying low. The garrison may have moved out. We've sent scouts to Cair Andros. If the Orcs attack from the north, we'll have some warning."

"Who are you? State your business!" A solider said as she got too close to their captain. He had his sword drawn, blade aimed at her throat.

Alana slowly raised her hands, keeping her movements deliberate and unthreatening. "Peace, soldier. I mean no harm." She met Faramir's gaze steadily as she lowered her hood, revealing her face.

Faramir's eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of warmth passing through them before he regained his composure. "Stand down," he commanded the soldier, who hesitated a moment before lowering his blade and stepping back.

Faramir approached Alana, his expression a mix of concern and something else she couldn't quite decipher.

"Alana," Faramir said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "What are you doing here? It's not safe."

She held his gaze, her heart pounding beneath her breast. "I had to see you," she replied, her words tinged with a quiet urgency. "I'm here to help."

Faramir glanced around at his men, who were watching the exchange with curious eyes. He gently took Alana's arm and guided her a short distance away, where they could speak more privately.

Once they were out of earshot of the others, Faramir turned to face Alana fully, his brow furrowed with worry. "Alana, you shouldn't be here. The enemy could attack at any moment. I cannot guarantee your safety."

Alana met his gaze unflinchingly. "Do you forget who I am? Warrior of the Dunedain?"

Alana met his gaze unflinchingly. "Do you forget who I am? Warrior of the Dunedain?" A playful smile danced at the corners of her mouth. "I can handle myself in a fight, Captain. Besides, I couldn't very well let you have all the glory, now could I?"

Faramir sighed, but a glimmer of amusement shone in his eyes. "I should have known better than to underestimate you." He paused, his expression growing serious once more.

"Alana, I cannot ask you to risk your life here," Faramir said gravely. "The enemy we face is ruthless and relentless. I would not see you come to harm."

Alana reached out and grasped his hand, her fingers intertwining with his. "I'm already here. Put me to work." Her eyes sparkled with determination and a hint of mischief. "Besides, someone has to keep an eye on you and make sure you don't do anything too heroic and foolish."