~@-/Pains in the Heart\-@~
Why do I keep writing a frigging disclaimer? You *know* I'm not Tolkien. You *know* I don't own the characters or the places - hell, I don't even own the pens in my pencilcase! I found them on the floor in the Chemistry lab - a Biro and a Staedtler! And the end of the Biro is *chewed*. How gross is that? But I haven't seen *my* pen since that Halloween maths exam...
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Flames will be fed to Olórin's pet Balrog.
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writerbrat: Well, the filmmakers ruined him first. I'm just carrying on a horrendous tradition. (Curse me. I would be ranting about myself if it wasn't - well - me. They're cutting the Houses of Healing scene, you know. I'm wondering if they're gonna make Galadriel marry Aragorn now.
Ithil: Dude, it's fan fiction. Of course everything's screwy. This is fanon not canon.
Innocence/indulgence: Oh, he does :) or does he? Read the next chappie!
Stephanie: Of course she isn't... but then how do we know? She only talks at the end of ROTK and in that Appendix.
The Dark Wanderer: You'll see...
Lúthien Tinúviel 8: Don't worry. It gets better. Thanks for the correction, I'll check that out. Lol!
Rosa Cotton: It's the union-of-souls thing and intuition.
mousie2: I'm not doing too bad, to be honest. Maybe it's cos I've been wearing my One Ring (£12.99 @ Argos but I don't care) to every exam. Tomorrow's the last day *starts dancing and celebrating*. We fanfickers, we sacrifice everything for the story, right? You're off? Are you in college? Damn you! :) Here's the next bit.
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Now, on with the story! Well, okay, I haven't kept or broken any promises yet, but I will soon. -------------------+-------------------
--+-- Minas Tirith: The Cells --+--
Faramir was spent; painful grief and suicidal guilt paralysed him, so that he sat stiff and distracted in his cell. All the wells of bitterness were spent now. How could he have done such a thing? What had he done? What would he have done? What would happen now?
He wanted to turn back time, and slip a note under her door instead of... instead of what he had done. What would his father say? All Faramir wanted to do now was weep. He had never felt so guilty in his life. It was an appalling crime, and if he were in Aragorn's place the perpetrator would be put to death, or banished at best. But there was no going back.
Faramir realised that he had lost control of himself: what if it happened again? Not just concerning Éowyn - would a day come when he killed someone for annoying him? Would a time come when bitterness consumed him, and he killed for release? Who could he be killing? Éomer, Aragorn - his stomach knotted - Éowyn? He suddenly pictured her mutilated body, her blood on his sword... Faramir unfroze, and stumbled to the gully that ran between the cells, and he vomited.
He had already damaged Éowyn beyond repair; spoiled her; ravaged her. He had never wanted to die before now. Once again, Faramir had no control over his actions. His sword was locked away.
--+-- The Houses of Healing --+--
The moon was passing westward, and Aragorn still sat beside Éowyn, her hands clutched in his, kissing them and weeping. Tears were running down her face, too. It was another moment that needed no words. At last their tears were stilled.
"I thought I could lose you," he said.
"It was not so serious as all that?" said Éowyn, alarmed.
"It was," nodded Aragorn. "Shock and fear had spent much of your energy, and you were slipping away."
"But, how?" Éowyn did not understand. "I ate much at dinner."
"Your spirit, Éowyn," said Aragorn gently. He smiled. "Your appetite was not the problem. Something was wearing you down, crushing your spirit. All I could do was pray to the Valar it was not me, and pray that you would be saved."
They were silent. "Aragorn?" said Éowyn. He looked away from the window. "A time will come when I pass on, and you will still be here."
"I know." It was almost a whisper. "But remember always that you are descended of Morwen of Lossarnach, that your people called Steelsheen. She was your mother's mother, and was of the line of Dol Amroth. There is hope. There is always hope. And if hope fails, there is always love."
Aragorn wrapped his arms around her, and they embraced for some time. "You need your rest," said Aragorn. "I have matters to attend to."
===================
Sorry it's so short but it's my lil bro's turn on the computer. I'll be back later.
Why do I keep writing a frigging disclaimer? You *know* I'm not Tolkien. You *know* I don't own the characters or the places - hell, I don't even own the pens in my pencilcase! I found them on the floor in the Chemistry lab - a Biro and a Staedtler! And the end of the Biro is *chewed*. How gross is that? But I haven't seen *my* pen since that Halloween maths exam...
-------------------+-------------------
Flames will be fed to Olórin's pet Balrog.
-------------------
writerbrat: Well, the filmmakers ruined him first. I'm just carrying on a horrendous tradition. (Curse me. I would be ranting about myself if it wasn't - well - me. They're cutting the Houses of Healing scene, you know. I'm wondering if they're gonna make Galadriel marry Aragorn now.
Ithil: Dude, it's fan fiction. Of course everything's screwy. This is fanon not canon.
Innocence/indulgence: Oh, he does :) or does he? Read the next chappie!
Stephanie: Of course she isn't... but then how do we know? She only talks at the end of ROTK and in that Appendix.
The Dark Wanderer: You'll see...
Lúthien Tinúviel 8: Don't worry. It gets better. Thanks for the correction, I'll check that out. Lol!
Rosa Cotton: It's the union-of-souls thing and intuition.
mousie2: I'm not doing too bad, to be honest. Maybe it's cos I've been wearing my One Ring (£12.99 @ Argos but I don't care) to every exam. Tomorrow's the last day *starts dancing and celebrating*. We fanfickers, we sacrifice everything for the story, right? You're off? Are you in college? Damn you! :) Here's the next bit.
-------------------
Now, on with the story! Well, okay, I haven't kept or broken any promises yet, but I will soon. -------------------+-------------------
--+-- Minas Tirith: The Cells --+--
Faramir was spent; painful grief and suicidal guilt paralysed him, so that he sat stiff and distracted in his cell. All the wells of bitterness were spent now. How could he have done such a thing? What had he done? What would he have done? What would happen now?
He wanted to turn back time, and slip a note under her door instead of... instead of what he had done. What would his father say? All Faramir wanted to do now was weep. He had never felt so guilty in his life. It was an appalling crime, and if he were in Aragorn's place the perpetrator would be put to death, or banished at best. But there was no going back.
Faramir realised that he had lost control of himself: what if it happened again? Not just concerning Éowyn - would a day come when he killed someone for annoying him? Would a time come when bitterness consumed him, and he killed for release? Who could he be killing? Éomer, Aragorn - his stomach knotted - Éowyn? He suddenly pictured her mutilated body, her blood on his sword... Faramir unfroze, and stumbled to the gully that ran between the cells, and he vomited.
He had already damaged Éowyn beyond repair; spoiled her; ravaged her. He had never wanted to die before now. Once again, Faramir had no control over his actions. His sword was locked away.
--+-- The Houses of Healing --+--
The moon was passing westward, and Aragorn still sat beside Éowyn, her hands clutched in his, kissing them and weeping. Tears were running down her face, too. It was another moment that needed no words. At last their tears were stilled.
"I thought I could lose you," he said.
"It was not so serious as all that?" said Éowyn, alarmed.
"It was," nodded Aragorn. "Shock and fear had spent much of your energy, and you were slipping away."
"But, how?" Éowyn did not understand. "I ate much at dinner."
"Your spirit, Éowyn," said Aragorn gently. He smiled. "Your appetite was not the problem. Something was wearing you down, crushing your spirit. All I could do was pray to the Valar it was not me, and pray that you would be saved."
They were silent. "Aragorn?" said Éowyn. He looked away from the window. "A time will come when I pass on, and you will still be here."
"I know." It was almost a whisper. "But remember always that you are descended of Morwen of Lossarnach, that your people called Steelsheen. She was your mother's mother, and was of the line of Dol Amroth. There is hope. There is always hope. And if hope fails, there is always love."
Aragorn wrapped his arms around her, and they embraced for some time. "You need your rest," said Aragorn. "I have matters to attend to."
===================
Sorry it's so short but it's my lil bro's turn on the computer. I'll be back later.