Here's chapter 12 ! Finally !Thank you all again for the reviews, favourites and follows !

'Oh, you didn't truly think you could escape me, did you ?'

The dark voice now filled everything around him.

He was back.

'Get away !' he mentally shouted at him, trying with all the strengths he had left to get Him out of his mind. But it was too late. He was in. He had seen his opportunity and jumped on it. The man felt extremely weak, breathless.

He had pierced his skull and was now slowly crawling in to reach his mind.

'Oh no, I am not. Not this time.' the evil voice answered.

The flames began to hit him intensely and painfully. He was trying to get control over him again, but in the hard way this time. Faramir yelled. His very mind was on fire, burning from the inside. But he wouldn't give up, not this time. He had to be strong. But he felt his strengths getting diminished by the minute.

'Still resisting... You fool ! You are no match for me !'

He struck again. Even harder this time. Faramir felt as if his head was opened in two. The pain was unbearable. His voice broke when he let out another tearing scream.

But slowly, the pain decreased, and he began to feel another presence. Not dark and painful as He, but shining and pure. No... No, there wasn't only one presence, but three. Three, pushing away the darkness. Slowly but surely.

'Leave him !' one of the shining presences told the cloud of darkness and fire in a manly voice, 'Leave him now and never come back !'

Faramir knew this voice... He had heard it already... But where..?

And suddenly, realisation hit him.

"H-Hír Elrond ?" [Lord Elrond] he asked in a weak voice. The form turned to him and smiled. His face wasn't very distinguishable, but he looked very similar to the Elf Lord of Imladris.

The flames struck again, aiming at the young man crumpled on the floor. But the three forms interfered and one of them took the blow, letting out a small moan. Faramir couldn't exactly tell who it was, except that it was a woman, according to her voice. His mind felt too foggy to recognize her. Immediately after, the fight between light and dark resumed. Faramir lowered his head, trying to catch his breath. He didn't have enough strengths to help the others.

They were pushing it back. Again and again. The flames were trying to hit them, but they were blocked them. They were winning. He was getting out.

'Do not trust them !' His voice tried, but Faramir was even too tired to give it a thought.

'You are not as strong as they say. I only can make you stronger.'

Faramir shook his head, trying to clear his mind, to catch his breath.

'Your brother is dead.' the dark voice suddenly stated, which made the man look up at the dark cloud in front of the white figures.

"No..." was the only word that could get past his lips as the world seemed to crumble around him.

"No no no no no..."

He had failed. He had failed. He hadn't been strong enough.

"No !"

Boromir was dead. Dead. His brother, dead. It was his fault.

Slowly the darkness seemed to get back in him.

'Do not listen to Him !' one of the light voice shouted. But the man didn't even bother to search where it was coming from.

He had failed. He had sworn to protect him. Everything had been useless.

The darkness came even closer. The three tall figures seemed powerless now, though they kept fighting as hard as they could.

One word kept repeating itself in the man's ears.

Dead.

Dead.

Boromir was dead.

Dead.

He wanted to cry but he couldn't.

He wanted to scream but he couldn't.

He was broken, no more than a shadow of himself.

'You see ? You are weak. You couldn't save him.' the Dark Lord spoke again in his evil voice, 'I can make you strong. You will not lose anyone or anything again. I can give you power. The Power to bring him back...'

The man's head shot up at the last sentence. An involuntary gasp escaped him. The Power... to bring him back ?

The figures all turned around to face him hurriedly.

'No, Faramir, don't ! He is the Dark Lord ! He is lying to you ! Such a power is owned only by the Valar, He cannot give it to you !' one of the light voice yelled. A womanly voice. Galadriel ? Her voice was so full of pain...

He looked at her face and saw the desperate plea in her eyes. He then looked at the others. Lord Elrond and... Lord Celeborn, perhaps, both silently begging him to get his reason back. And he did, eventually, like if the Elf's gazes had cleared his grief away.

This was Sauron, the Master of Mischief. How could he know that he would keep his promise ?

'Do not listen to that sorceress. She knows nothing about it.' He tried again. But the man had already made his choice.

The idea of being able to possibly bring Boromir back to life sounded very appealing, and yet... Yet it was the Dark Lord... Maybe He had been tricking him from the beginning. Maybe... Maybe Boromir was... alive ? Yes, yes, maybe. And even if he wasn't... Nothing guaranteed him he would really be able to bring him back.

Besides, he had promised Mithrandir he would be fine without him, and he had trusted him.

They had taught him how to resist, they had trusted him to be able to do it.

He had to show they had been right.

And the others... Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli... They still had a fight to win.

'Yet I was silly enough to trust Him...'

That last thought made him let out a small sigh. He still had much to learn. He would have been lost if they hadn't been there.

Gathering all of his few remaining strengths, Faramir got up and went forward to face the dark cloud. Strangely, he was left completely out of breath, as if something else than air entered his lungs, but he put it on the account of stress.

He felt light hands on his shoulders, closed his eyes and allowed the light to penetrate him.

'Not today.'

The light completely irradiated his surroundings and then everything went black again.

The Orcs lifted his scimitar. Aragorn could do nothing to stop him. He was on the ground, had lost his sword. He closed his eyes and grabbed the hand of the Elf he had been trying to defend since his fall. It had drained all his energy and the wound on his leg hadn't made things any easier. There was nothing more he could do. He was defeated.

'I'm sorry, mellon-nîn...'

But the pain never came. The man slowly opened his eyes and couldn't believe what he saw. The Orcs were fleeing ! They were still way more numerous than the half-Fellowship, but they were fleeing...

The companions, however, had been standing no chance. Just a few more minutes and their lives would have been ended.

Oh, not that he was complaining at all, but that was very weird...

Once his surprise and shock was passed, the man finally took the time to crawl beside the Elf that laid motionless on the rocks.

The man was highly relieved to see the more or less regular rising and falling of Legolas' chest, but he still looked very pale and his heart was beating fast. The Prince was cut and bruised in multiple places, but nothing to be highly concerned about. Only the cuts on his leg and chest seemed to be notably bleeding, so Aragorn tore a piece of Legolas' tunic to bandage them as tightly as he could. The Elf gasped at the pain and his eyes opened.

"Mae govannen dan, mellon-nîn." [Welcome back my friend], Aragorn told him, a thin smile on his lips. Legolas answered with a confused look.

"Manhidant ?" [What happened ?] he asked in a weak voice.

"Laethennog sanasta." [You lost consciousness]

The Elf winced at the answer, a look of shame and guilt on his face.

"Dihenog nin..." [Forgive me]

Aragorn shook his head, indicating there was nothing to forgive.

The two were suddenly interrupted by the arrival of a bloodied Gimli.

"Gimli ? Are you well ?" Aragorn asked in concern at the sight. He had completed lost track of him during the fight.

"I am not the one in need of assistance. You have to come quickly." the dwarf hurriedly replied.

Without thinking more, Aragorn got up again, gritting his teeth to suppress a groan of pain at the movement and swaying on his feet as this left him light-headed.

"Ci nided." [You are injured.] the Elf stated, seeing the pain in Aragorn's face, reinforcing the look of guilt on his face.

"Im mae." [I am fine.] The man answered throughgritted teeth, but the Elf nor the Dwarf were fooled.

The Man helped Legolas up, which made the both of them wince and followed Gimli.

Boromir was right in front of them, on his knees, his back turned to them.

They quickly made it to his side and both Aragorn and Legolas couldn't suppress a gasp at the sight. His upper arm was covered in blood, which was dripping from a wound on his shoulder. Meanwhile, the man was gently caressing his brother's cheek, sobbing. Faramir was pale. Way too pale. His skin was cyanotic, his chest, seemingly unmoving. Aragorn quickly recognized the symptoms of drowning.

The Ranger immediately knelt beside him and rapidly searched for a pulse. His breath got caught in his throat when he found one. Irregular, faint and growing weaker by the minute, but there.

He hurriedly took the boy from Boromir's lap and began to breath back life in him.

The others felt as if time had been put in slow motion. Aragorn often grabbed the limp man's wrist to search for his pulse, letting out most uncourteous words when he found it unchanged.

"It's my fault, I did not see him quickly enough. He was in the river and..." Boromir kept repeating.

"None of this is your fault, lad." Gimli was trying to reassure him

Eventually, after what seemed like long hours, the young man let out a small cough, followed immediately by a strong, harsh coughing fit. He was, finally, coughing up the water that had been filling his lungs.

Almost reflexively, Aragorn and Boromir grabbed his shoulders and made him to sit up. The dark-haired man then began to slap his back.

After long minutes, the coughing ended and every companion finally allowed himself to exhale sharply in relief. Faramir was ventilating, but breathing.

The young man lifted his head and looked at the Aragorn, a confused look on his face, which grew even more important when he felt the strong arms of his brother around him.

"B-Boromir...?" he asked in a hoarse voice, making him to cough a little.

"Shh... I am here, you are back." the older man answered, gently stroking his brother's back, tears streaming down his face.

Recognizing his brother's voice, Faramir's confused look surprisingly turned into a joyful one and he held Boromir even tighter, causing the older man to wince in pain.

"Y-You're a-alive !" he exclaimed, provoking another coughing fit.

A look of complete misunderstanding passed on the faces of the companions.

"Of course I am, why shouldn't I ?" was Boromir's confused reply.

"B-But... th-the arrow...? D-Did I deflect it ?"

Boromir's eyes grew wider at the realisation that his brother had risked his life for him.

"Yes. Yes, you did." he told the younger man comfortingly.

"N-Not enough... apparently..." Faramir added, noticing the blood on his brother's arm, "F-Forgive me..."

"No, no, it's nothing. Merely a scratch. You do not have to apologize for anything, you saved my life."

Boromir gave his brother a small smile, which he weakly gave back.

"Don't you ever dare to scare me like that again." Boromir told Faramir, squeezing his shoulder.

"Merely a scratch, but a poisoned one." Aragorn's voice interrupted after having intently observed Boromir's wound, "Gimli ? Would you mind searching for my pack in the boat ?" he asked the dwarf.

"Sure." he answered, "But don't forget to take care of your own injuries too." the dwarf added in a firm tone, glancing severely at him.

The man didn't reply, too occupied to examine the wound on Boromir's arm. He still lifted his head up when he caught the sight of Legolas sitting on a stone. If someone hated to sit down, it was him, which proved he wasn't well at all.

"Na ci mae, Legolas ?" [Are you well, Legolas] he asked him in concern.

"Al-felda erin ci." [No worse than you] was the Elf's mysterious answer, which made Aragorn frown. Usually, Legolas' answer would have been 'I am fine', even if there was a huge gap in his chest. That was surprising.

The Ranger still had to admit he, too, didn't feel well either. The blood loss and exhaustion from the fight made him feel a bit dizzy and light-headed. But there had been more important matters to deal with.

They hadn't even give a thought to why had the Orcs fled. But that didn't matter.

For now, he needed rest. They all needed. And there was only one option. They couldn't go after Gandalf and the Hobbits in such a state.

As he saw Gimli coming back with his pack in hand, he raised his voice, automatically taking the lead of the rest of his companions :

"We will take some time to rest and, as soon as everyone is fit enough to walk, we will head to Rohan."

There you are ! The next chapter will be (I think) centered around Gandalf and the Hobbits.

Take all good care of yourselves and stay home !