Replies:

Andrea: Yes, Éowyn does get to let the bloody side of her temper reign free. You'll see.

Gryphix: Here's your more soon…this is Faramir being panicky.

A/N: As I said, Faramir being panicky. Éowyn next chapter. I do not own anything you recognize, sadly enough. I do, however, own Faramir's bloody-mindedness. More soon!

Chapter Six: Searching

We had only been riding two hours, and it was not as if the best trackers in the world were with us (my King had stayed behind under protest). But to my aching heart, it seemed as if days had passed and still no sign of my lady! I fretted and fidgeted until one of the riders, named Widfara, trotted up to me. "My lord Steward," he said, with exaggerated patience, "if you are not careful you will fret yourself right off the horse and we will have to present you to the White Lady with a broken leg."

I stopped fidgeting. Instead, I indulged myself with increasingly bloody daydreams of what I was going to do to whoever had kidnapped Éowyn. So much for the gentle heart my King praised so much.

I had gotten to removing his innards and wrapping them around his neck when a cry went up from the front and Widfara cantered over to me. "My lord, we found something."

Well, what would you have done in my place?

My heart leapt and throttled my voice. I could only nod and follow him, praying it was a sign she was alive.

I sent my horse cantering over to the tracker, who knelt in a disturbed area, triumphantly holding up a blue thread that had been caught on a bush. Hoofprints led to the northwest, towards Isengarde, or maybe Helm's Deep. I still wasn't precisely clear on the geography of the area, having left Gondor but once before in my life, to journey to Edoras during the reign of Wormtongue. My company and I had a poor welcome, but I had seen the Lady Éowyn, and I had not been complete since.

I dismounted, and knelt with the tracker. "You're sure it's from my lady's dress?"

"Almost sure, my lord." The man pointed at a few other marks in the dirt. "There's an imprint of horses in the dirt there, from the embroidery on her dress. But there's a faint possibility it could have been someone else."

I saw something else on the bush, and tugged it free. A long, pale-gold strand of hair lay against my palm. "No more is there doubt," I said, staring at the strand. "This is my lady's hair or I am a fool."

"You're no fool, my lord," the tracker said, after a moment of peering at the strand. "They went northwest."

"They were not trying to hide their tracks," another man said, sounding a bit puzzled. "Almost as if they wanted us to find them."

"There's no sign of any other tracks?" I asked, puzzled myself. The only explaination for this was if Éowyn had been taken in another direction while the rest continued northwest.

"No. None at all."

"Then we ride northwest. If she was taken elsewhere, we'll find that out when we get there."

So off we went, me trying to hide the dread that had started to grow. What if Éowyn was no longer alive? Then they would want us to follow them, to find her body. If she was dead....well, I didn't know what I would do.

I prayed very hard during that ride.