When Rowan left Faramir's room, she met Prince Imrahil headed for the throne room. The handsome man nodded in greeting and requested her to join him. He told her Aragorn had asked him to bring her for discussion of the next step.

They entered the impressive throne room through a side door—on the right side of the thrones—not down the long aisle lined by statues of past kings in white marble. The king of Gondor's throne was also made of white marble, but sitting at the top of a flight of steps; at its base, and off-set, was the throne of the Steward, made of black marble. A large golden crown hung above the king's throne.

Nearly all were gathered when Rowan and Prince Imrahil arrived. Gandalf and Aragorn were in a quiet discussion away from everyone else; Elladan and Elrohir spoke with Legolas in the Elven-tongue; and Gimli sat on the Steward's throne, smoking.

Imrahil huffed. "I am acting-Steward, master dwarf, and I detest pipe-weed."

"After Pelennor Fields and delving into the Paths of the Dead for an undead army, I need this." The dwarf blew out a puff of smoke. "Do you want your seat?"

She shook her head ruefully. Gimli practically said, 'So?'

Echoing footsteps made her turn to Éomer coming down the hallway she and Imrahil came through; Gamling and Grimbold walked with their new king of Rohan. His eyes sparkled on seeing her and stopped beside her.

"Am I to address you as King Éomer from now on?" she asked.

He gave a soft chuckle. "No. Never from you. I am still Éomer, son of Éomund, previous Third Marshal of the Riddermark."

Rowan smiled—His way of saying his new title changed nothing. "I know you are."

Done with whatever they spoke of, Aragorn and Gandalf turned to those in the throne room.

"Listen to the words of the Steward of Gondor before he died: You may triumph on the fields of Pelennor for a day, but against the Power that has now arisen, there is no victory," Gandalf began. "I bid you not to despair, as he did, but ponder the truth in these words."

He nodded toward Aragorn. "As I suspected, Denethor used a Palantír. We discovered the Seeing Stone. Through it, Sauron showed the Steward great forces within Mordor."

"Perhaps Lord Denethor was deceived..." Prince Imrahil suggested. The news of another massive army worried him.

"No," the White Wizard said. "The Seeing Stones do not lie, and the Lord of Barad-dûr cannot make them do so. What he perceived as truth, is. But it is not as hopeless as he deemed. It is now time you all learned of the quest conceived in Imladris."

Gandalf went on relaying the discovery of the Ring of Power in the Shire, the formation of the Fellowship, and the task appointed to Frodo Baggins in destroying it. When he was done, Éomer looked at her, probably for confirmation; Rowan nodded.

"How great is this army, Lady Rowan?" Gamling asked.

She swallowed. "Larger than the force which assailed Minas Tirith."

The Rohirrim captains and Prince Imrahil paled; the sons of Elrond exchanged nervous glances, and Gimli almost dropped his pipe.

"Victory cannot be achieved by arms," Éomer stated.

"Perhaps we would, if Aragorn hadn't released the Army of the Dead," the dwarf grumbled, shooting daggers at the Ranger.

Aragorn shook his head. "No, they had fulfilled their oath. I could ask no more of them." He looked at the king of Rohan. "And no, not for us. But by arms we can give Frodo a chance."

"What do you propose, Estel?" Elrohir asked.

Realization dawned on Legolas. "A diversion."

Rowan nodded, just as Aragorn did. Most of those in the room saw her movement.

"Frodo needs time and safe passage across the plains of Gorgoroth," he said. "So we draw out Sauron's army; empty the land. Keep him blind to all else that moves."

"Surely he expects such a trap," Éomer said.

"Using the Palantír, I shall reveal myself to him. My hope in doing so is that he believes he witnesses the arrogance of the new Ringlord. He knows the One Ring has been found, and will think we possess it from studying the signs: the Sword that robbed him of his treasure re-made; the winds of fortune turning in our favor, and the fall of the Witch-King," Aragorn answered. At the end, he looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

"Your plan will work. He will take the bait, and hopefully bring his doom by the efforts of two hobbits," she said.

"You mean to say Lord Aragorn's strategy is successful, but that which follows is unknown?" Prince Imrahil asked.

"Yes. Some deaths affect what I see." Mainly my own, she wanted to add.

Gandalf seized control before Imrahil began asking details. "Regardless, we must go, with courage, but small hope for ourselves. For it may well prove that we shall perish; even if Barad-dûr be thrown down, we shall not live to see a new age. But this is our duty."

"Better so to perish nonetheless—as we surely shall, if we sit here—and know as we die that no new age shall be," Elladan said.

The room grew silent and remained that way for a while.

"Certainty of death. Small chances of success," Gimli said, breaking the tension. "What are we waiting for?"

***

Everyone dispersed, headed wherever to prepare for this possible suicide mission. Deciding on talking, Rowan promised Éomer she would find him later after she spoke with Legolas. She caught up with the elf walking with Gimli, Elladan, and Elrohir for the Dúnedain encampment outside the walls. Needing privacy, they found a vacant room and locked the door.

"If we all survive this, Frodo will record our adventure in the Red Book and Sam will finish it," Rowan began. "When he comes to ask what happened on our side of the story, and I'm no longer here, do not mention the truth that I'm from another world."

He looked at her long, not blinking. It was unnerving being scrutinized by an elf thousands-of-years-older.

"Why do you tell me this? What do you know?"

"Nothing. I only suspect."

"You lie. Tell me the truth."

She huffed. Did she honestly think Legolas wouldn't see through her?

"It's not... absolute, but Lady Galadriel predicted that my story ends at the Black Gate. How exactly that comes about, she didn't say. I've assumed by death."

"Rowan..." he breathed.

"Don't you demand I stay," she ordered. "You know I must go to ensure things happen. And neither do you threaten to warn the others to watch out for me. If they do, someone essential could die instead, like Éomer or Aragorn. My death—if it happens—will not affect Arda like theirs would.

"If it means everyone lives, and the Ring is destroyed, I'm fine with dying. This isn't my story, and I know it without a Rowan-character, so I'm truly not needed."

"You are a friend, Rowan," Legolas said. "You matter to many here."

"But not as much as others. I've always been second, and I'm okay with that now."

It was true. Going on this quest has made her realize that. She wasn't unimportant, like she had been made to feel back in the modern world, but neither was Rowan necessary. A helper was all she was and would ever be.

He fell quiet, probably thinking of another reason for her not to willingly accept death. The question came to him. "What of Éomer?"

She had already grilled herself about him. "I'm not choosing to leave him. I don't want to die—not only because I'm scared, but I don't want to lose him. But, if I die... I die. He knows the risks of battle."

"Should he be told the truth about you if you fall?"

Rowan took a bit thinking. She couldn't come up with a yes or no answer.

"I'll leave it up to you, Aragorn, Gimli, and Gandalf in whether or not to tell him. If you had a lover from another time, would you want to know or stay blissfully unaware that the person wasn't who you thought you knew?"

Eyes downcast, the elf didn't come up with another but.

"Promise me you won't tell a soul, Legolas."

He struck her with such a sorrowful look, she nearly choked up.

"Please," Rowan begged.

He released a lung-emptying sigh and his straight frame slumped some. "You have my word."

"Thank you. Now, don't look so depressed or the others will suspect something," she ordered. "Remember, you forced the truth out of me."

He smiled slightly as he did what she said. "I would not have been pleased with a lie, knowing it was so, but neither am I comfortable with the truth." Legolas caressed her face. "I pray Lady Galadriel's prediction proves wrong."

Rowan grabbed his hand. "I do too."