The past is already written.
The ink is dry.
But the future remains unset and the Valar have begun to sing a song anew.
Gondor is a kingless state falling into ruin against the Shadow of Mordor. Doomed to fail and forsaken by Men and...
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SHE must have spent half the morning searching for him. His chambers were empty, the training grounds lifeless. Not even the serving girls and chambermaids had seen him. Aeardis's annoyance progressively rose, it was like him to disappear when she needed to speak with him on urgent matters. In one of the main halls of the Citadel, she found Faramir, leaving from a meeting with Madril and Lifaen. The smile he wore at her sudden presence faded instantly when he saw her deep-set frown.
"Where is your brother?" Aeardis demanded. "I must speak to him about our plans for Poros. Hirluin has informed me that the Harad army has hastened their march." She was near breathless in her anger and exhaustion.
Faramir frowned, all his prior amusement with her frustration at his brother was gone and within the span of a second he had turned into an Ithilien ranger. "He rode out this morning." He had helped Boromir saddle his horse in the early hours of the morning, the sun had yet to break the darkness on the horizon when he set off through the gates of the White City. His sword was at his side, his shield across his back.
Aeardis furrowed her brows, "To where?" There was no need for him to leave the city, especially with the threat of a Southron invasion.
Faramir shrugged, "He would not say." Her glower deepened as she pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a long, exasperated sigh.
"Have you a moment to spare?" she asked.
He nodded, "What do you require?"
"Your mind." She replied and he was happy to oblige to such a request.
Across the tables of the library were numerous scrolls and books that had been laid out, all of them on the subject of war and strategy. "The men will not be able to effectively dam the river before the army arrives, but in my readings, I've noted the use of certain items together that have been used in prior wars," she explained, eyes alight with wonder and determination. "Though I have yet to find a precise method of recreating it." She had yet to sleep for the puzzle at hand would not allow her to rest easily.
Faramir understood and immediately picked up one of the scrolls that she had yet to read and carefully they skimmed over the old texts, looking for anything that would give information on how to concoct what had been termed Blasting Fire by Men in the Second Age. The day passed and night came, only two scrolls remained. They each unrolled the delicate parchment and skimmed the last of the old text.
"What will we need?" Faramir enquired.
"Saltpetre and charcoal," she said. "Sulphur if it can be spared," he added, having found the same primary ingredients in his readings as well.
Within the hour, both Faramir and Aeardis returned to the library with their arms full of jars and tins. The saltpetre came from the kitchens and butchers who used it to preserve meat, the charcoal from smiths who used it as fuel, and the sulfur from the city's winemakers who burned sulphur candles within empty wine casks to keep the wood from souring.
