Alright, this is the chapter 'In which some things are explained but make everything a little more complicated.'~*~*~ separates dream from reality.
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Breakfast was a quiet affair, no one speaking much. This was good for Faramir who was too tired to concentrate on conversation, though it did make for an awkward silence. At last Éowyn saw Aragorn remove something small from a vest pocket, a vial of sorts. The king, who was sitting at the head of the table with the Steward and Éowyn on either side, nodded slightly but firmly at the Lady of Ithilien. Figuring that this was the signal, Éowyn took in a deep breath and held it.
Aragorn, also holding his breath, uncapped the vial and held it out underneath the table towards Faramir. At first nothing happened, but then Faramir's head started bobbing and he dropped the fork in his hand so that it clattered on the near empty plate. Seeing this Aragorn plugged the bottle and stood. After counting off a few seconds he nodded again at a struggling Éowyn to signal that she could breathe again.
Faramir seemed to realize what was happening. Using all his strength, he jumped from the chair and grabbed Aragorn's arm. "No!"
Placing a comforting hand on the Steward's shoulder, Aragorn tried to reassure him. "Let the vilkama work. It will give you a dreamless sleep, which you desperately need."
As his body shook from exertion, Faramir almost wished to agree; yet something was screaming at him not to allow it. "Please no." he collapsed and consciousness seemed to be flying away as Aragorn caught him. Losing the struggle against sleep, those were the only words he could whisper, a strange look on his face. "Please no. Please." At last he drifted off, eyes fluttering shut.
Aragorn turned to Éowyn. "He will not awaken until he has been fully rested, though I can also use a metvilkama to wake him before then. Éowyn nodded and called for help to carry Faramir to bed. Staring at the quiet, almost peaceful face of the Steward, Aragorn figured out the last look that Faramir had given him. The king frowned with concern, wondering why Faramir would look completely terrified of falling asleep.
Perhaps if Aragorn had known what would happen he never would have done it. For as he, Éowyn, and Beregond thought Faramir sleeping peacefully in his bed, the Steward was being drawn into the longest and most vividly terrifying dream of all.
~*~*~
"Take care of her, my friend." He watched as his father spoke to the Lord of Andúnië, his sister beside him.
"I wish we could offer both your children shelter, Celdun."
"So do I, Elendil, but that would be too dangerous with us being hunted. Take care of Lómarë and do not let her forget who she is and that we love her." His father turned to him, his face filled with sadness. "Come, my son, we must go. Say farewell to your sister."
Faramir, in the mind and body of the boy, hugged Lómarë, both crying. How do you say good-bye to your sister, your twin, your other half, not even knowing when you would see her again?
Lómarë looked at him, crying. "Good-bye, Lómdunwe."
"Good-bye, Lómarë. We'll come back for you, I promise."
Suddenly the dream changed and he found himself held tightly against his father, staring terrified at the dark men in front of them. A smaller man grinned evilly at the two. "Celdun son of Erendur and Lómdunwe son of Celdun, you are convicted of high treason against his Royal Highness Ar-Pharazôn of the Kingdom of Númenor. The penalty for such crimes is death on the Altar of Melkor the Great." The altar stood before them, already stained with the blood of other victims.
The door to the Temple of Melkor Belegurth swung open and in strode the King himself, holding tightly to and dragging in a woman who was about middle-aged. She struggled against his hold. "Pharazôn, what do you…" The woman froze when she saw the two new victims, her face paling dramatically. "No! No, you can't! Pharazôn, please!"
Seeing her, Lómdunwe tried to pull away from his father and go to the woman. "Ámee!"
Pharazôn walked up and hit the child, the force throwing his against his father. "Quiet, boy."
"Do not touch my son," demanded Celdun.
The King of Númenor sneered at the man. "You think to demand anything of me? You will die and your son will die." Pharazôn saw Celdun's eyes glance longingly at the woman who was now held back by dark-clothed guards. "And even better, Miriel is mine. I have won." He turned to the Head Acolyte. "Sacrifice the man first."
The guards holding Celdun started dragging him towards the stone altar, leaving Lómdunwe alone with Pharazôn. The boy tried to go to his father, but was held back. "Appa! APPA!"
Suddenly he felt warm, familiar arms around him. His mother had slipped free of the guards and now held him tightly trying to keep him from seeing the work of the Acolytes of Morgoth whom were chanting and dancing around the temple. As she held their son, Miriel stared with tears on her cheeks into the eyes of her husband, now bound to the altar. "Celdun. Celdun, I love you!"
"I love you too, Miriel." The sacrificial knife came down and Miriel screamed as life left her beloved. She did not even notice the wide eyes of her son who had witnessed the whole thing.
~*~*~
Aragorn checked on Faramir before he went to bed. The Steward had been asleep for over 14 hours and he figured would stay asleep for a long while yet. Something worried him though, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He dismissed the feeling to the unknown darkness, the cause of which still eluded him. Lying down on the guest bed in a nearby room, a tired Aragorn quickly fell asleep. Yet his sleep was soon to be interrupted.
*Kuvera.* //Awake? Donwanna, tired.// A cold chill swept through Aragorn as he dreamed and even the blankets he had unconsciously pulled up didn't warm him.
*Kuvera, e kuveri en!* Aragorn sat up with a start. //Awake and awake him? What does that mean and why am I dreaming in old Adûnaic?//
It was then the king of Gondor realized that he was shaking form cold and he could even see his breath. //What? It's only early autumn, even Ithilien isn't that cold now.// Suddenly a great wind rose up, shaking the room's furniture. A strange mist appeared before Aragorn, an angry, dark cloud that swirled through the room.
The swirling mesmerized Aragorn who was still drowsy from sleep. As the mist moved out of the room and down the hallway, the entranced king followed. The mist disappeared into Faramir's room. When Aragorn entered, the mist started swirling faster and faster above the Steward's head. Looking at Faramir, Aragorn's eyes widened. "Someone, come quickly!"
~*~*~
Lómdunwe watched numbly as the Acolytes rolled the lifeless body of his father onto the floor beside the altar. Then, suddenly, he felt strong hands pulling him away from his mother. She shrieked and grabbed him back, the strength of a mother's love stronger than the Acolyte. The boy clutched her tightly and cried into his mother's shoulder as the guards tried to separate them.
Finally, the guards overpowered Miriel and dragged Lómdunwe away as she screamed and sobbed. "Please no! No, he is just a child, he is no threat! Please! He is just a child."
An evil laugh echoed through the halls of the dark temple. From the shadows stepped a dark man, if a man he could be called. His raven hair seemed to melt into his black robes and his eyes glinted obsidian. "He is a traitor, the son of a traitor. The Great Lord Melkor demands his sacrifice."
Pharazôn whirled on the Acolytes who stood frozen in fear of the shadowed man. "Do as Lord Sauron demands. Kill him!"
Lómdunwe was dragged roughly to the crimson-stained altar, still wet with his father's blood. Fear ran through him. "Ámee! ÁMEE!" Miriel sank to her knees and sobbed, still pleading almost incoherently for his life.
His wrists and ankles scrapped against the hard stone as they were bound to the altar. The Acolytes danced around him, chanting in a dark language. As he listened to his mother's weeping, he remembered the prayer she had taught him and his sister, Lómarë, on the rare times they had all been together. He recited it now, a barrier against the dark terror. "Ara i eyar yisa menn, in Evori. Eru veldo en durran." Lord of Earth, remember us the Faithful. Eru, defeat the darkness.
The Acolytes' chanting grew louder and so the boy raised his voice. "Ara i eyar yisa menn, in Evori. Eru veldo en durran!" Again and again he repeated the prayer, a sobbing Miriel joining in, as the evil grew. The head Acolyte brought the knife down and Lómdunwe felt it slice into his throat, the pain searing. And as life left him, the only thing he could see was Sauron the Abhorred, laughing.
~*~*~
Aragorn rushed to Faramir's side, trying to hold down the convulsing man. To the king's horror, blood seeped from the Steward's neck, pale throat turned vermilion. Yet when he looked for a wound, he felt nothing, no wound, no blood. Closing his eyes for a moment, Aragorn opened them to find no trace of the blood. //What?//
A sudden strong convulsion knocked Aragorn away. "Ara i eyar yisa menn, in Evori. Eru veldo en durran!" cried out Faramir as he slept, further confusing Aragorn.
The king of Gondor again tried to hold Faramir down as he jerked and shook. Captain Beregond burst into the room with another guard, Éowyn on their heals. They were nearly blown back by the force of the wind that circled the room. Seeing her husband, Éowyn gasped and ran to his side. Aragorn shouted at Beregond. "I need my medicine bag. Quickly!"
As the other guard ran off to get the bag, Beregond helped Aragorn hold Faramir down. "Why does he not wake up?" demanded Beregond.
The king shook his head. "I need the metvilkama or he will not wake." Faramir convulsed again, seeming to fight against unseen bonds. Aragorn's mind spun. What was going on?
~*~*~
Faramir gasped for breath as the stifling darkness seemed to suffocate him. His throat ached and his mind felt jumbled, trapped between past and present, good and evil. Suddenly he was in the woods of Ithilien, but it felt painfully dark, hopeless. A voice beside Faramir startled him, a smooth, male voice that his instincts screamed couldn't be trusted.
Save them.
//What?// he heard children screamed in the woods, screams full of sadness.
You must save them or they will die.
*Kuvera.* Faramir's head jerked at the familiar woman's voice. It sounded weak and far away, like she did not have the strength to speak.
Yet her appearance seemed to anger the other voice. The darkness grew and Faramir staggered under its pressure, struggling not to totally collapse.
Listen not, she is trying to trick you. She wants only the destruction of you and your family, and has been luring you to your death as she lured the others.
*Kuvera.* The Steward's confused mind didn't know what to think. He tried to block out both voices as the cold chill of the darkness tried to crush his soul. With his last ounce of strength he cried out. "Eru veldo en durran."
~*~*~
The wind seemed weaker, yet it kept swirling determinedly, pushing down on Faramir who was now struggling to breathe. Aragorn's heart froze as the Steward whispered what sounded like a final prayer, full of pain, fear, and hopelessness. "Eru veldo en durran." //'Eru destroy the darkness.' Valar, are we losing him?// To everyone's relief, the guard ran in with Aragorn's medicine bag. Tearing it out of the man's hands, Aragorn pulled out the metvilkama just as Faramir fell completely limp.
"Faramir!" At Éowyn's cry, Aragorn quickly uncapped the vial, holding it under the Steward's nose, hoping he still had one more breath left.
Thankfully, Faramir's eyes fluttered open and he began gasping for air as the strange wind died down. Corking the vial, Aragorn laid his hand on the Steward's shoulder, but he was shrugged off as Faramir struggled from the bed. He stumbled towards the window, collapsing to his knees as the pounding in his head intensified. His need for fresh air gave him strength and he threw open the window, gulping the forest air into his lungs.
Faramir tensed as Éowyn's arms wrapped around his shoulders. Looking up, he noticed that Aragorn had also knelt beside him. "Faramir, what happened?" The king had sent Beregond and the guard away, hoping that with fewer people in the room, Faramir might be more inclined to talk.
He wasn't. "You drugged me, that is what happened."
"The vilkama was meant to give a long, dreamless sleep."
"It did not work, obviously."
The bitterness in Faramir's shaky voice was evident, which made Aragorn feel guiltier. Still he persisted in getting answers. "That was no normal nightmare you had."
Faramir shivered at the still fresh memory. "No, it is not. It is worse than any other nightmare I have ever had."
Éowyn hugged him tighter. "Please, tell us."
The Steward gave a harsh laugh. "Tell you what? That the same vision has plagued me every time I have fallen asleep this past month and a half? That I see things that aren't there and collapse for no other reason than I just can't sleep? You already know that."
"Faramir, look at your wife." Aragorn's command made the Steward raise his eyebrow in surprise. "Look at her." Faramir did and his heart clutched at the worry and fear in her eyes. "She asked for my help. That is how worried she is about you, she asked for help. And I want to help, not just because you are Steward, but because you are my friend. Tell us what you dream."
It was the pleading in Éowyn's eyes that convinced him. Closing his own eyes, Faramir took a deep breath. "Just now was the clearest it has been yet. I could see what he saw, hear what he heard, "he unconsciously brushed his fingers across his neck, "fell what he felt."
"Who?"
Faramir furrowed his brow, as some of the details faded. "I think they called him Lómdunwe son of Celdun. He was young, only 8 or 9 years old. And…" his voice choked from the memory. "And they killed him. They tied me…him to an altar in the Temple of Melkor and slit his throat like a pig as his mother watched unable to stop them." Faramir's head started pounding harder and he clutched his temples against the pain and the memories. "I felt everything: the blood of his father already spilled on the altar, the knife cutting his flesh, the evil encompassing him when the Dark Lord laughed as life left him."
Éowyn stiffened. "The Dark Lord?"
"Yes, Sauron was there, the power behind Ar-Pharazôn's throne." Faramir shivered and opened his eyes. "That is why I cannot sleep. The darkness is too great, it suffocates life." Suddenly Faramir stood, shrugging off Éowyn's comforting arms. With a heavy heart she realized that he was going back to his study. As he left Faramir paused only once, looking straight at Aragorn. "You cannot help, my lord. I fight this evil alone. Pray that I do not fail." He glanced at Éowyn, his grey eyes softening. "And take care of the ones I love if I do."
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Is that a cliffie? If it is, sorry. Just in case anyone didn't understand, the vilkama is a sleeping drug and the metvilkama is the antidote. Also, all the Adûnaic is made up by me since I don't know any. I think I translated everything in the text, but please tell me if I didn't. Also Ámee=mommy and Appa=daddy.