Heyyyy ! It's been a long time, I know, and I apologise for leaving you hanging for so long... I hope this chapter is good enough, because I kinda hurried myself to finish it, so it might not be great... I hope you'll enjoy anyway !
Faramir's breath was fast. Too fast. Sweat was dropping heavily from his brow, making his hair to stick on his pale face.
By the Valar, he felt so exhausted ! Like if the Witch King had somehow managed to drain his very life away from him.
'They're coming. They'll be here soon. You just have to resist a little longer.' he kept repeating himself. But the more the man said those words, the more meaningless they sounded to his ears.
What was taking his friends so long ?
Truth to be told, it wasn't for his own health Faramir was fearing, but for his companion's !
He did not care if he lost his life, as long as his secrets died with him... But in the case he came to reveal crucial informations about the Quest... His friends, his brother, his father, Mithrandír, the Lady of Rohan... The entire Middle-Earth would be nearing its doom...
"Look at me !" the cold, low and dark voice of the Witch King he had been forced to become accustomed to rang in the empty room.
Opening eyes he hadn't realised he had closed, Faramir's gaze immediately fell upon the nothingness which should correspond to the Nazgûl's face.
The cursed being was holding a dark crystal sphere in his hands...
"I think we are ready to begin..."
By the Lords, this was so painful
Faramir felt as if the very stone was burning his tied hands down into ashes.
And the red light was so blinding ! Yet, no matter how strongly he tried, the young man could not look away from it... He was forced to watch.
And soon, the fire turned into a scene... An army, an immense one, disorganised, dirty, was walking restlessly into the Pelennor fields...
Orcs, there were. But not only ! Haradrim, Mûmakils, Orientals... They were hundreds, no, thousands walking toward Faramir's home... The White City. Minas Tirith.
And now, the young Captain had to watch everything... He had to watch the catapults destroying the place which had seen his birth, the place which held so many memories, good and bad ones.
He had to watch the few soldiers- No, not soldiers... They were all dressed as civilians... But... Why ? Why taking the risk of receiving blows without any armour to protect them ?
No no no no ! This wasn't happening, no ! Impossible !
Suddenly, Faramir sensed his eyes being irresistibly caught by something behind him... His vision swam violently and his point of view changed completely... It was something climbing some kind of stairs in the dark rocks in front of Minas Morgûl... Something that was wearing a grey and pointy hat... Gandalf ! Gandalf was here ! And behind him... Some people... Rangers ! And four Hobbits ! They were here ! All of them ! They were heading to Mordor !
"WHAT DID YOU SEE ?" a dark and deep voice suddenly rang in the air. Faramir's vision swam once more, nearly forcing the content of his stomach out of his body.
Then the Ranger felt something burning on his face and couldn't suppress a cry as waves of heat spread into his entire head. He closed his eyes reflexively, and waited patiently for the burning heat to somehow go away.
And it happened.
Faramir opened his tired eyes, slowly... He was back in his cell... He tried to take a deep breath, but something prevented him from doing so...
He felt metal against his throat. The Nazgûl was strangling him...
Wait no... Was it really the Witch King ? He was so blurry... Shaking... No, was it... Sauron ? No no no ! He was hallucinating !
"WHAT. DID. YOU. SEE ?"
The voice felt so much deeper... The tone was sharp, like knives... And it felt so familiar...
Faramir closed his eyes once more, to clear his mind. And then, all of a sudden, Sauron was gone and the Witch King was back in front of him.
"Tell me what you saw !"
"Never !" he made out through gritted teeth, the simple word bringing pain to his throat and lungs. When was the last time he had drunk anything ? How long had it been since he had arrived ?
"Oh you won't ? We'll see about that..."
Faramir suddenly felt the air being kicked out of his lungs as he found himself back over the battle of Minas Tirith. But this time, it felt like he was literally flying above it. He could almost feel the warmth of the sun hitting his face, and fresh air entering his lungs. And for a moment, he closed his eyes, let his guard down, did not pay attention to the massacre taking place under him, for he now felt somehow safe. Yet soon enough, a cry got him out of this peaceful state, and he looked down again... He saw a family... A mother, a father, and their little baby, wraped tightly in the lady's arms. They were running, chased by an Orc... The Lady tripped... Her husband helped her up... The Orc was on them now... It raised its scimitar...
Alas, the ranger could do nothing but yell out in despair as the blade wwnt down. He wanted to move, to put himself between the blade and the father's head... But he was helpless.
As he was crying and yelling his heart out, Faramir all of a sudden felt an arrow penetrate his skull.
He gasped. He couldn't breathe. The pain was terrible. His head was spinning. He couldn't inhale. His vision swam before everything went black.
"So that's what you were trying to hide..." he heard the deep voice ringing in his mind.
"Come on my friends !" said Deveron in a tone that sounded a little bit too enthusiastic for Frodo's liking, "There's only a few steps left !"
"But you've been telling this for hours Deveron ! How are we supposed to believe you ?" said Merry between heavy breaths.
"It is true ! Have mercy for our poor little Hobbit legs ! They need some rest !" moaned Pippin, following his cousin.
"It is hardly a good time and place to take a rest, Peregrin Took, even your little Hobbit brain should have understood this !" retorted Gandalf with an ounce of impatience in his voice.
Even though Frodo was, indeed, exhausted by the long climb, even though his head kept pounding, even though his chest burned and even though his eyes wanted nothing but to close themselves, the Hobbit could only agree with the wizard. Sleeping in front of the Nazgûls' place of residence was not something he was truly looking forward to. Plus, they would have had to convince Sméagol to take a break, which, seeing how fast and eagerly the creature was climbing the stairs, would not be easy.
Frodo felt, once again, his feet trip on a flat rock, and once again, he felt Sam's hand grabbing his elbow to prevent him from falling.
"Come on, Master Frodo, we're almost there. I know you can make it," the soft voice of his gardener encouraged him, while hauling him back up to his feets.
In other circumstances, Frodo would have probably smiled to Sam, thanked him, but he did not have the strengths nor the will to do it. He did not have the will to do much, actually... He just wanted to lay down, close his eyes and hopefully wake up in his armchair, in front of a warm fire... Oh why did he have to accept to take this Ring to Mordor, why ?
He wished he could be like Sam. Sam, who supported him and climbed the stairs without complaining once. Sam, who persisted into seeing the good side of things, and never the bad.
Yet he could not be like Sam, for Sam had no Ring to carry.
And he could not let Sam carry it.
"Can I ?" he heard himself question out loud.
"Of course you can !"
Frodo gave Sam a surprised, and maybe slightly angered look, before realising his gardener had thought he had answered to his previous sentence.
Suddenly, the group heard a loud and pained cry echo against the stone walls around them.
A tearing and painful cry.
From a familiar voice.
"Faramir..." Frodo heard Gandalf whisper under his beard, eyes shining with worry and pain.
Then the Hobbit caught the sight of Deveron, frozen on his feet, and eyes staring blankly at the tower before him.
"We need to move, now !" said Gandalf, hurry evident in his voice, and all trace of exhaustion leaving his face.
The cry pained from their lost friend had somehow given the group enough strength to climb up faster than usual.
"Come on Deveron ! We must hurry !"
Gandalf nearly fell on the ground when he reached the place where Gollum was awaiting them, but he managed to remain upright, and turned around to help the Hobbits up with him.
"Where do we go now, Gollum ?" he asked the creature.
"Into the cave..." answered the creature with a smell grin.
"Well come on, then ! Lead the way !"
Gandalf did not like the way the creature smiled when it entered the cave, but they had no choice now. If Faramir's cry meant what he feared, they had to hurry.
And then, he heard it. A screeching sound, tearing the air, forcing most of the Rangers to their knees, and causing Frodo to fall on the ground with a gasp.
"Run into the cave ! Now ! Hurry !" cried the Wizard, pushing Merry and Pippin in the cave before helping poor Sam to carry Frodo inside.
'Good luck...' thought the wizard as he stood before the cave's entrance. The beast was flying toward him, staring at him. He had only one shot, the spell he was about to summon would be the death of him...
Slowly, Gandalf raised his staff.
"Gandalf, no !" cried Frodo.
"You. Shall not. Pass !"
'Goodbye'
The battle was raging on the Pelennor fields. Minas Tirith was still standing, but close to fall. They were just in time. May the stars give them the strengths to win.
Aragorn turned his face to meet Théoden's. The King nodded. They both knew what they had to do.
Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, Boromir, a few Rohirrim including Éomer and the army of dead would head toward Minas Morgûl, while Théoden and the Rohirrim would take care of a part of the Orcs' army. Then the army of dead would go back and help the Rohirrim.
Then, hopefully, they would win.
"Let this be the hour when we draw swords together." said Théoden, smiling at Aragorn, before looking back at his troops.
"Forth, and fear no darkness. Arise, arise, riders of Théoden ! Spears shall be shaken, shields shall be splintered ! A sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises ! Death !"
"DEATH !" the cry echoed in the entire army.
Aragorn could not help a small smile to illuminate his face at the sight of Boromir, Legolas and Gimli shouting with them.
Elladan was not there, and he had to admit he was rather thankful about this. The Elf was now riding back to Lothlórien.
"Please the Valar that I may find some reinforcement there," had the Peredhel said, before reluctantly leaving his foster brother to ride in another hopeless battle.
"Forth Eorlingas !" cried Théoden.
It was time.
Boromir was riding his horse faster than ever. One only thing mattered to him now : to reach his brother, to hug him tightly in his arms, to tell him it was all over, that he was finally safe.
His sword was swirling around him savagely, mercilessly freeing the Orcish heads from their miserable shoulders. They had dared to attack his homeland, they would pay the price of this mistake.
Scimitars were screeching against the cold metal of his armour, scratching his hands and cheeks but he couldn't care less. An arrow flew just past his right ear, but he barely paid attention to it. His eyes were locked on the nearing tower.
Blood was staining most of his armour and clothes, but it did not matter. Not now.
It felt almost easy... Too easy... The Army of Dead was opening the small group a clear path in the middle of the chaos.
"We're almost there !" shouted Aragorn in front of him. Boromir could not help but notice the small wince of pain on the King's face when he hit the sides of his horse to make it go even faster. The man was doing his best to hide how painful his injury still was, but he could not make it completely invisible. Everyone was still on the way to recovery. Even Legolas still had trouble hanging on his white horse.
"We're coming in !"
And so, the small group, still preceded by the soldiers' green ghosts, entered the cursed tower.
And the first thing they heard was a cry.
And as he heard it, Boromir knew he would be haunted for the rest of his life.
And he began blaming himself.
It was a miracle he remained on his horse and did not fall on the ground.
"FARAMIR !"
The cry reached Faramir's ears.
The voice sounded familiar, yet his foggy mind could not make out whose it was. His entire body was burning. He wanted it to be over.
And suddenly, the pain stopped.
"If you want him, come and claim him," said the now way too familiar deep voice.
Then there was the sound of a fight, yells, cries, clashing swords and armours.
"You're going to pay for what you've done !"
"Pay ? You fools ! No man can kill me !" said the Witch King in a small laugh.
A silence followed this sentence.
"No..." whispered someone.
"But no living man am I !" a womanly voice suddenly rose and broke the silence.
"Éowyn ?! No !" cried another voice.
Then there was a yell (could we truly call this sound a yell ?) and the fight stopped.
"Faramir !"
"Éowyn !" two different voices shouted at the same time, and Faramir finally identified the first one. How could he have forgotten ?
"It is all right, little brother. You are safe now. You can sleep."
And so, as he, for the first time since what felt like decades, felt the strong arms of his brother around his cold and frail body, his hot breath brushing his dirty and messy hair, Faramir finally knew he was, indeed, safe.
He closed his eyes.
It was over.
I'm sooooo sorry for the massive delay, guys, but I've been rather busy with high school and all... Hopefully the next update will be up sooner than this one !
Thanks for reading !!!