This chapter is quite short I know, but it reached a convenient stopping-point and so… Today I have been typing for about three hours, so I've got a decent amount done. Please read, review and enjoy!

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The white horse, and indeed its rider, were like nothing she had ever seen before. Even though she was battle-weary, and her head was beginning to spin, Mithmír could not help but see that this horse was the noblest still living: and so must be the renowned Shadowfax, whom at the last she had heard would accept no rider. She paused her fighting for a second and gazed open mouthed at the flowing creature galloping on hooves of wind-speed towards her; and his rider, who seemed to be clad all in white light.

The great horse stopped by Faramir's side, pawing the ground in wish to either fight or flee. Its rider was an old man, his face not tired but wise. Mithmír gasped - it could not be Gandalf! He had fallen into the shadow many miles away in Moria… But it was soon proved to her that it was, indeed, Gandalf, for Faramir looked - some men stepped before him to protect him from the line of attacking orcs - and cried,

'Mithrandir, my friend and teacher! Why come you here?'

The wizard, one of the Istari, Mithmír reminded herself in awe, frowned a little and then said in a deep, old voice: 'you must come, Faramir. Heed not your father's rash words. He loves you in his heart, and shall realise it before the end. Come with me, leave this futile stand, and return to the safety of Minas Tirith.'

Faramir looked up at him boldly. 'How many of my men - my friends - can you fit on Shadowfax's back, Mithrandir? Can you save all of my men? I stay no longer for my father, Gandalf, but for my comrades in arms, who have served me faithfully, and will so to the end. If I leave, this line shall waver and fall. Not only shall all these brave men - and woman -' he smiled a little at Mithmír, who was staring wide-eyed at the wizard - 'die, but the rearguard shall be no more, and all the men who are even now fleeing to the city shall be overtaken and massacred. No, Gandalf, I shall not come with you. Flee from here, and leave us to fight.'

The wizard sighed deeply. 'It is your choice, Faramir. I cannot order you to do what I ask, for you are no boy any longer but a man. But this is your last chance to be delivered from this darkness, and I ask you again: will you come?' His bushy eyebrows bristled.

Faramir appeared to consider this. Finally, he spoke, and boldly. 'Nay, Gandalf. But I beg you: take this brave lady here with you. I would not have her die beside me.'

Mithmír felt like the whole world had been swept from beneath her feet. She grasped Faramir's arm and beseeched him; 'Faramir! Why do you say these things? We will not die here! I will continue to fight by you, even until the second my heart is stilled. I will not be sent away like some ordinary Lady of Gondor! I am a warrior like any man here!' Her heart beat painfully inside her chest with panic.

'Aye, Mithmír,' Faramir said sternly, 'but I love you more than any man who stands here beside me today, even more than I love myself.'

'I will not go!' She screamed, horrified to find herself close to tears.

Faramir's face was oddly white, but he spoke the words nevertheless: 'you are a soldier in my army, Mithmír, and under my command like any other. I order you to go.'

She stepped back instantly, shocked. 'Faramir! Who are you to order me about so? We agreed in Ithilien…' Her eyes betrayed her horror and deep hurt at his words.

'I love you, Mithmír, my sister,' he said firmly. 'And one day you will understand why I have to do this.' Before she could react, he brought up his sword-hilt and struck her helmet so hard that the light in her eyes instantly dimmed, and she fell unconscious into his waiting, gentle arms. His face was creased with lines of sorrow beyond his years when he carefully kissed her pale cheek. 'I'm sorry,' he whispered. 'Forgive me. Forgive my great love for you which made me do this.' And then he passed her with great care to Gandalf, who put her before him in the saddle with equal softness.

'Take care of her for me, Gandalf,' Faramir said finally. The words carried double meaning; or rather, double time span: look after her until I get back from the battle, or forever if I never do.

'I shall do all that is in my power to keep that promise,' nodded Gandalf gravely. 'But before I go, Faramir - who is this "grey-stone" to you?'

'A half-elf who is as dear to me as sister, and the woman I love most in the world,' Faramir replied. 'Aragorn knows her. Take her to him. And if not, give orders for her to be treated as a Lady of high rank, for so she is.'

'I shall see to it, Faramir,' replied Gandalf evenly. 'Fight well, brave man of Gondor.' And with that he turned Shadowfax quickly about, and with a call in Quenya they sprang away over the dark grass to the white walls of the city.

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Depressed… [grumble]… no Legolas and Faramir being too damn protective… Must write quicker!