Update time! I'm glad everyone's enjoying this story. It basically stemmed from my love of Faramir and the desire to have him be…well, you'll see in the end.
Reviewer Responses
Callie3= Angsty and violent, hmm? Well since my evil alter ego, Evil Skittle, has a hand in writing this I would say it's a good bet.
PUNK GOOSE= Ámee Miriel is a ghost that haunts the line of the Stewards. I'm afraid you will not learn her full identity until later, sorry.
Arahiril= I can't answer most of your questions without revealing the rest of the story. Just know that I take the years very seriously, and work to get the numbers right. Unfortunately I had to smudge a little, but the years between Belecthor and Faramir are absolutely correct. (Actually it freaked me out a bit how easily it fit. Down to the very year.) There is a trick with Ámee Miriel's name that only a person who has read a lot into the Silmarillion and the Unfinished Tales might catch. Glad you like it!
arwens-light= Yes I actually wrote a semi-nice Denethor. Obviously I wrote that part before seeing ROTK. (grrrrrrr) Actually, I had wanted to post this before Halloween but unfortunately didn't finish it till almost Christmas. No, this isn't the third sequel, though I'm a hair away from finishing it. I'm glad you liked Boromir's nickname, I worried that it was too out of place. Hope you like this chapter.
the evil witch queen= Evil Skittle likes suffering so you can expect it!
Also thanks to Catmint, Lilya, Rathien Nikolai, and Lady In Blue2 for reviewing!
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Over the next week, Faramir slept little, though in an attempt to keep Éowyn from worrying he did rest more. Yet even that couldn't hide the tiredness that was becoming more and more apparent in his face and eyes.
Finally the Steward's guards spoke to their captain, Beregond. As Captain of the White Guard, he easily arranged to speak to Faramir. Beregond found that Steward in the library connected to his study. He was leafing through various papers and parchments. "My lord."
Faramir lifted his head, gave his captain a short smile, said, "Beregond, come in. Sit," and went back to the scroll he was reading.
Beregond continued to stand. "My lord, I need to speak with you."
Hearing the tone of voice, Faramir laid the scroll down. "About what?"
The Captain took in a deep breath. He did not like speaking against his lord, but it was obvious that his men were telling the truth. "Lord Faramir, I have received several reports from the White Guard concerning your continued health." Though a frown instantly appeared on the Steward's face, Beregond continued. "They say you have not been getting enough sleep, and frankly I think they are right."
"I am fine, Captain."
"No, my lord, you are not. Your eyes are bloodshot, you are yawning even now." Faramir glared at him but Beregond glared back. It is my job to protect you, either from outside forces or from yourself."
Faramir lifted the paper he had been reading as a signal that he was ending the conversation. "You cannot make me sleep."
"No, but I believe King Elessar can."
The Steward's head shot up and he narrowed his eyes at Beregond. "You would not."
Beregond raised his eyebrows in a 'you want to bet?' look. "You have two weeks to show me that you are getting better. It is my right as your guard and as your friend. Two weeks, my lord." With that, the captain nodded his head in salute and walked away leaving a stunned Faramir behind.
That night, Faramir conceded to going to bed earlier. As his wife snuggled close to him, he tried desperately not to think of the nightmare. //It is just a dream. It is not real. Besides, I might not even have it tonight.// He was wrong.
^*^The woman screamed as he was pulled away. "Please no! No, he is just a child, he is no threat! Please!" An evil laugh chilled his soul.
He struggled as the men bound him to the stone table, above the still body of his father. "Ámee! ÁMEE!"
*Yonen sergnalit, kuvera!*
A dark shadow loomed over him, a bloodied knife lifted.
*Kuvera!*
A final prayer tore from his lips. "Eru, defeat the dark!" The knife came down to end his life. Suddenly a darkness engulfed him and he heard a voice yelling, "Help them!"
*KUVERA!* ^*^
Faramir woke in a cold sweat. //Ai Valar, what is going on? Why does this nightmare torment me so?// Even awake the images bombarded him. The mother's plea, the child bound to the sacrificial altar. The knife held by the shadowed figure. //But what is the voice that wakes me? How is it that I understand her in the dream, yet when it ends I remember only the words, words I don't know. They sound familiar, almost like Sindarin, but not so.//
A thought hit him and Faramir bolted upright. //Of course!// Slipping from bed, he half-walked, half-jogged to the library. Scanning the shelves, Faramir found what he was looked for and pulled a pile of scrolls down. //Yonen sergnalit kuvera, yonen sergnalit kuvera, yonen…Aha!// He pulled out a certain paper. //Ancient Adûnaic! The language of the Island of Numenor.//
Throughout the rest of the night he searched the words and translations of every Adûnaic text in the library he could find. He had plenty for he had always wanted to learn the ancient tongue but never had time. After several hours Faramir had figure out a rough translation of the words in his dream. //'Son of blood, awake.' Son of blood? What does that mean? And who is speaking?// He started leafing through more papers. //There has to be more here, something, anything.// He did not even notice the sun rising.
~*~
Éowyn sighed and closed her eyes in frustration as Faramir walked away. A week had passed and Faramir seemed to be getting worse, not better. Finally she had confronted him, but it hadn't gone well.
*~* "I'm fine," mumbled Faramir as he tried to get pass her in an attempt to leave their room.
"You are not fine, Faramir. You are exhausted. And your refusal to do anything about it is hurting you and me."
Faramir forced his heavy eyes to focus a glare on his wife. "It's none of your concern. Now let me pass, I have work to do."
Éowyn didn't move. "It is indeed my concern, I love you! And I hate seeing you like this! Let me help you."
"I don't need your help! You don't understand, just leave me alone!"
He shouldered past Éowyn, but she caught his arm. "Help me understand. Tell me what is haunting you!"
Éowyn was startled by the strange look that passed over Faramir's face. His eyes saddened and his voice dropped. "Please. Leave me alone." Pulling his arm away from her grasp, Faramir walked away. *~*
Éowyn spent the next hour till dinner trying again to think of a reason for Faramir's behavior. He worked all day, now barely leaving his desk except to get more scrolls from the library to look through. They would eat silent meals together and then he would again return to his books and papers. He would work by candle until almost morning, come to bed for awhile, then get up before dawn the next day to begin all over again. //What is driving him to do this? Why will he not let me help?//
As Éowyn struggled to push back feelings of helplessness and inadequacy, a loud crashing noise pulled her out of her thoughts. Shouts from servants sent her running to the back stairs that led to the dining hall. Éowyn's heart almost stopped at the sight of her husband crumpled at the bottom of the long stairs.
Beregond, who had heard the commotion, got to the Steward before Éowyn. "My lord!" To his relief, Faramir blinked and opened his eyes. "What happened?"
Before Faramir could answer, Éowyn rushed to his side. "Faramir! Are you hurt? What happened?"
Faramir sat up at rubbed his head. "I…I was startled and lost my balance." He bit back a groan as a painful knot formed on his head.
"What startled you?"
The Steward winced again at the headache. "A…umm…I think it was a cat. Shot by my feet and surprised me."
As he was talking, Beregond was checking him over for injuries. "No broken bones that I can tell, but you need to see a healer." The captain's voice let no room for excuses.
Éowyn and Beregond helped Faramir stand and flanked him as he walked unsteadily to the nearby Healing House of Emyn Arnen. The Master Healer was waiting for them. "A servant came and told me to expect you, my lord. My lady." He nodded at Éowyn. "Captain, if you will all follow me." The Healer had Faramir sit down on an examining table and gave him a thorough check over. "Besides that nasty lump on your head, my lord, and a few bruises that may hurt for awhile, miraculously I can find nothing wrong considering you could have seriously injured your back or broken your neck. However, I must say that your physical condition would be greatly improved…"
"If you tell me I need more sleep, I'll cut your tongue out." Through years of experience and Faramir's annoyed tone, the Healer could tell it was an empty threat. Still he was concerned, not for his tongue, but for the Steward.
"Since you have diagnosed the problem yourself, I can do nothing else. Good day, my lord." Faramir took this opportunity to quickly leave the Healing House. The Master Healer, though, stopped Éowyn and Beregond. "My lady, may I ask how much sleep he has had these past few weeks?"
Éowyn sighed. "Only a few hours each night. He will not listen to me and it is getting worse."
The Healer pondered this and nodded. "That would make sense. Irritability, slurred speech, and hallucinations are all signs of extreme sleep deprivation."
Beregond frowned. "Hallucinations?"
"Hallucinations are images seen…"
"I know what they are," interrupted Beregond, annoyed. "I do not remember Lord Faramir mentioning that he was seeing things that were not there."
The Master Healer gave the guard an exasperated look. "The cat, Captain. Have you not noticed that the Steward's House does not have cats, it has ratting hounds. And according to my sister who works in the kitchen, not only do that hounds keep the rats and cats away, they also are kept under close watch by handlers who would have noticed if one of their charges war barreling towards the Steward. That, plus the fact that I have know Lord Faramir for years and can tell when he is lying, leads me to believe that he was startled not by an animal but by a hallucination brought about from lack of sleep."
"Éowyn looked troubled. "It has gotten that bad?"
"I am afraid so."
Beregond narrowed his eyes in thought and then shook his head. "You are right, I saw no animal by the stairs. My lady," he turned to Éowyn, "I told Lord Faramir seven days ago that if he did not improve in 2 weeks that I would send for King Elessar. With your permission, I would like to write him now."
//How did it come to this?// Éowyn nodded. "I will do better that that, captain. I will write him myself."
Unaware of the conspiracy forming in the Healing House, Faramir settled at his desk. He didn't work, though; instead he stared out the window at the colored leaves of autumn. His thoughts dwelled on his recent mishap and the lie he had told his trusted friends and his beloved wife. //A cat? Was that the best I could thing of?// Faramir leaned back his chair. //Well, it's better than telling them what I really saw.//
*~*
*Kuvera!*
He lifted his head off his desk with a panicked start. Drawing a hand down his face, Faramir tried to calm his breathing. How could he have fallen asleep at his desk? Again, even the short time he slept the nightmare troubled him.
Faramir's internal clock told him that it was time for dinner. Walking down the fall, the Steward tried to keep his thoughts away from the pain and terror of the dream. As he reached the stairs his eyes focused on a reflection in a nearby mirror. To Faramir's horror, he saw the shadowed figure from his dream behind him, holding the knife as if to plunge it into the Steward's back.
Whirling quickly, Faramir lost his balance and fell down the stairs as the figure laughed at him from above. *~*
He shivered at the memory and turned to the papers and books scattered around his normally neat office. Everything about Numenor or Adûnaic he could find he had looked through at least twice, yet he had found nothing. //What am I missing? I know the last king, Ar-Pharazôn, married his cousin Ar-Zimraphel and eventually got involved in human sacrifices, but there are no names of victims. How am I supposed to figure out what the dream means if I have incomplete historical records and a language I can't read or speak?// In a burst of irrational anger, Faramir picked up the goblet of wine from the desk and hurled it across the room. The glass cup shattered at it hit the floor, its ruby contents pooling on the hard wood.
Faramir's mind played tricks on him again as he stared at the puddle of wine, seeing instead the red blood that stained the stone alter in his nightmare. The blood a young boy saw amalgamating underneath his father as he too was dragged to an altar to fulfill some evil purpose. Suddenly Faramir's mind snapped back to the present and he groaned. //Valar help me, I am going mad.//
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Hope you liked it! Actually, I'm in a benevolent mood tonight (Evil Skittle went to sleep just now) so I may just add another chapter.