Alright, so I know this has most likely been done before. I just had a wild hair and had to go with it. I'm no Tolkien expert and I won't pretend to be. I will be taking a lot of liberties as an author and hopefully you guys will appreciate them. If you don't, then don't read it. If you read it and decide it's just too out there or inaccurate then by all means, don't let me waste anymore of your time. I just got the idea and thought I might as well share it because chances are, there is somebody out there who will like it.

By writing this, it does not mean i've given up on my Chronicles of Narnia fics. I've just kind of taken a break from those, because I'm trying to figure out how to get to where I want to go. I know what I want to happen with them, it's just getting there that's giving me problems. Along with this I've come up with ideas for a Harry Potter fic and a Pride and Prejudice fic. I've gotten the furthest on this one and decided to go ahead and post the first bit of it to see if it gets any bites.

In this story, Boromir and Faramir have a sister. Yes, like I said....liberties. It might be kinda confusing as to how and when she is actually in Middle Earth...it's kind of a 'girl falls into Middle Earth' thing but at the same time not. You'll have to see. If it throws you off too much, just message me or something...I would be glad to try to explain it a little better.

Anyways, it's time for the average disclaimer. I don't own anything Tolkien came up with. I only own the names and places you don't recognize.

So here it goes. Hope you enjoy it. Please review and let me know either way, so I know whether to post the next chapter or not.

Dreamstate

Prologue

Some twenty or so years ago…

A woman lied in the bed prepared for her, screaming and crying, though not at her attendants. The midwife knelt at the end of the table, coaching her as best she could through labor. "My lady, I can see the head! Now just give it one more good push!" she coached the woman, as one of the lady's female attendants stood at her side, holding her hand. With one last push the woman screamed at the top of her lungs, which was met by a soft cry.

"Well done, my lady, well done," the midwife soothed as she gathered the baby in a cloth while her assistant cut the umbilical cord. She then wrapped the cloth around the newborn and walked to the bedside, gently handing her to the exhausted mother. "Here, here's your baby girl, my lady," the midwife bowed her head as she released the child into the waiting arms of her mother and stepped back so her assistant could give her the first child born that night. The attendants halted their cleaning of the area long enough to see the mother's first look at her children.

"Oh, they are beautiful," her proud voice shook with pure happiness. The midwife and the attendants all smiled and sighed, one or two of them wiping their eyes. "Please, bring my husband in so he may see them."

An attendant stepped outside the room into the partially lit corridor where Lord Denethor stood, looking out a window that gave him a full view of the city. "My lord, you have a daughter and a son. Lady Finduilas requests that you come and see them," the attendant said with a curtsy. Lord Denethor turned and looked at her with confusion in his eyes.

"A daughter and a son? There are two?" he asked.

"Yes, my lord. Your wife bore twins."

Immeasurable relief etched across his face before he hurried past her. He reached his wife's side and kissed her eagerly before looking down at the softly wailing babes in her arms.

"My love, look at the twin babies we've been blessed with," his wife cried softly, watching her husband's initial expression at the first sight of his newborn children. The exhilaration and love in his features brought fresh tears to her eyes as he looked at his daughter. He touched her forehead very gently, drawing his thumb down her tiny nose and smiling when her crying lessened at his touch. He looked then to his son and did the same.

"Blessed, we are indeed, my love," he said, not being able to stop his own tears as they rolled down his face. He kissed his wife again, thanking the higher powers for their gift. "What will we name them?" he asked her, not tearing his eyes from the beautiful new additions to their family.

"We shall name Boromir's new brother Faramir," his wife said, smiling at the boy. "Faramir," she cooed to him. "What should we name her," she asked her husband, looking then to the girl in her arms.

Lord Denethor studied the soft cherubic features of his only daughter and thought. "Alodia," he breathed over the small girl's forehead.

Five years later…

Denethor stood over the small bed on which Alodia slept. On a small bed not but a few feet away slept her brother, Faramir. He looked at his small son, watching the slow rising and falling of his tiny chest as he breathed. He would have smiled had a permanent frown not been set on his mouth. He looked back down at the small girl softly snoring below him. Her auburn ringlets were fanned on her pillow behind her face, with one sprawled across her forehead. She lied on her side with a small stuffed doll curled in her arms. She looked so precious to him, but he shook those thoughts out of his mind. No child like this could be precious.

Strange happenings had been turning up as of late. Things were happening around Alodia that no one could explain. They were things that a five-year-old child should not be capable of, and things that no mortal being could accomplish. Yet, these things were occurring, and only around Alodia. The townspeople were beginning to talk, and doubts were rising. And when doubt lives, fear is born.

Denethor did not want to listen to the abhorrent rumors regarding his daughter. When hearing many of them he would simply laugh, knowing that no mortal child could achieve such things. But then he himself began to worry. He himself began to witness strange things when around his little girl. Denethor began to fear his daughter.

He was afraid young Alodia was a witch.

But how she could have been, he was none the wiser. There was no history of witchcraft or dark arts in his lineage, nor his wife's that he knew of, and he could not see how his daughter could have inherited such a trait. And then the darkest theory of all entered his mind. His wife had bedded another. She had conceived with another.

Alodia, his only daughter, was not his child.

With this conclusion, he stormed from the room, luckily not waking the children. He found his wife in their bedchamber and closed the door loudly behind him, startling her.

"Oh, my love, it is only you," she exhaled, clutching her chest. Her face fell at his expression and she began to worry. "What is wrong?" she asked at seeing the dark look on his face.

"Who is he?" he asked her calmly. Hearing the calmness in his voice frightened her as it did not match the expression on his face.

"Who is who, dear?" she asked, trying to smile.

He took three heavy steps towards her, this time shouting, "WHO IS HE?"

She took three steps back, landing herself against the wall in her fright. "I know not what you're talking about. You're not making any sense," she kept herself calm, even though it was difficult.

He threw his hands forward and pushed her roughly against the wall, not caring if he harmed her. He was so sure that she had been unfaithful to him, and did not care if he hurt her or not. "Who is Alodia's and Faramir's father," Denethor said more than asked in a dangerously low voice as he closed the distance between himself and her.

His wife's eyes widened and she paled. "What?"

"YOU KNOW OF WHAT I SPEAK!" he shouted, his voice filling the room.

"You are! I have not, and could never be with any other but you!" she cried, feeling tears welling up with the accusation.

"YOU LIE!" He shouted again, pinning his arms on either side of her and looking at her. He was more furious than he had ever been. No, fury could not do justice to what he felt. He felt fire burning within himself, and felt as though he would burst at any moment.

His wife stood, trying to be strong but failing. She was trembling roughly, crying out loud, and wondering what in the world could have brought this about. She had never seen her love so angry, and most definitely had never seen him so angry with her! She thought of what he had accused her of and felt new tears pour down her cheeks. Looking into his eyes, which had darkened dangerously, she swallowed and prayed.

"I have never been with anyone other than you. Faramir and Alodia are your children, just as Boromir is. If you cannot see that yourself, then you are a madman," she said softly before pushing her hands against him, hoping he would step away. Fortunately he did, and she ran out of the room, racing straight for her children's rooms.

A few months later…

Lightning streaked across the indigo sky as more thunder rolled. Denethor stood on his balcony, searching for the silhouettes of the clouds as they were illuminated by each flash. His door behind him creaked open and he turned sharply to see young Boromir standing there, doing his best to hold his little brother in his arms.

"Father, we can't sleep," he said, trying to steady his voice. Lord Denethor grunted and turned back to the view outside as Boromir staggered, under the weight of his little brother, to the bed where his mother sat up, reading a small book by candlelight. When she saw her sons, she set her book on the bedside table and opened her arms. "Boys, come here. There's no reason to fear the storm. It is only rain," she coaxed them, brushing their hair back from their foreheads. "Where is your sister?" she asked Boromir, even though she knew why she hadn't come with them.

"She's sleeping. The thunder and lighting don't scare her," the boy said, hugging his knees as another crack of thunder echoed in the room, though he pretended to not let it bother him. His mother looked up questioningly as Denethor stomped from the room and down the hall.

He walked into the room Faramir and Alodia shared, striding straight to her bed. He looked down at the sleeping form of his daughter, and growled when he saw that she hadn't even stirred at the sound of thunder. It was this…magic…in her that kept her from being disturbed by it.

"God, forgive me, but this evil cannot live," he said to himself before picking up the pillow from Faramir's bed and lifting it over his daughter. At that time Finduilas walked in, and ran to his side when she saw what he was about to do.

"NOOO!" she cried as she grabbed for the pillow where it was in midair. Denethor roughly shoved her away and she landed on the floor with a sickening crack. He then turned back and covered Alodia's head with the pillow. He felt her head move beneath the pillow and heard a muffled cry.

Don't do this. Please, Papa, don't.

He shook the voice out of his head. She was speaking in his mind! His witch of a daughter was speaking in his mind! He put all his weight on the pillow, hoping to suffocate her faster.

His wife forced herself up from the floor, despite the throbbing pain she felt in her arm. She threw herself at her husband, wrapping her hands around his neck, willing to do anything to get him away from their daughter. But once again he shoved her away. She hit the wall this time and felt the wind knocked from her lungs, but pulled out the knife she had tucked away in her nightgown and ran forward, ready to stab him anywhere she could. Denethor saw her shadow against the wall and turned, catching her wrist and turning the knife on her. When his pressure had left the pillow, little Alodia pulled it off with all the strength she had and sat up in bed, watching her parents with horror.

"You would stop me. You would let this evil live!" He yelled, yanking the knife from her hand and holding it against her throat.

She didn't say anything to him, she just thought and thought of any way to get free of the madman who had consumed her husband's body. That dark, dangerous look had overtaken him again, and she could not recognize him at all. Without thinking, she lifted her knee and knocked him right in the groin, jumping aside when he doubled over. She scooped Alodia up in her arms and raced to her room, deadbolting the door behind her. Boromir and Faramir had fallen asleep in her bed and she thanked the every power above, but then wondered what she must do. She prayed, knowing she would do anything to protect her daughter. She looked down at her sleeping sons, knowing their father would never harm them. But Alodia was not safe.

The door behind her began to rattle, and she jumped back with a scream. He was trying to break down the door! She looked down at Alodia and seeing that she was awake, placed her on the bed behind her. She threw up her fists, having nothing else to defend herself with as the door flew open and her husband stumbled in.

"WHERE IS SHE!" He shouted at her, holding his sword in hand. Her eyes widened at seeing it, and opened her arms to guard her children as she could do nothing else.

"You won't harm her," was the last thing she said before he ran his sword through her. But no sooner did she fall to her knees, that a bright light engulfed the room and Denethor was blown off his feet, landing against the wall on the other side of the room. When he looked up, shielding his eyes from the light, he could see nothing but a figure obscured by the pure white light. He squinted through his fingers, trying to make out the figure, and then suddenly his eyes flew open.