We stopped early that day as Seregon had developed a slight limp, and though Éowyn was obviously unhappy with the situation, she thought it best that we rest him after she pulled a small stone from his foot. After finding a suitably high spot without much snow upon it, I raised the tent close to the riverbank as my wife checked all of the horse's feet for rocks. Since we had extra time today, I thought it might be nice for us to have rabbit stew for our dinner, having caught sight of many rabbit tracks along the bank of the Ringló. After moving our pack into the tent, I pulled my new short bow that had been a wedding gift to me from Prince Legolas and my old quiver from it, and I made ready to hunt, very eager to try an Elven bow. I thought at first that Éowyn might forbid me from leaving her side even for a short while, but she seemed content to tend to Seregon, and so I departed, assuring her that I would not go far.
The Elven bow felt very light and natural in my hands, something that I did not usually experience until I had drawn a Man-made bow dozens of times. In awe of the beautiful craftsmanship of the Elven bowyer who had created this work of art, I stepped lightly along the riverbank, using the sound of the water to cover any sound my boots might have made in the rather deep snow.
It was quite cold again today, and my breath formed clouds around me, the crisp feel of yet more coming snow growing in the afternoon air. If we were to eat well this evening, I would have to be quick. So I immersed myself in tracking my prey, shutting all other distractions from my mind. At last I spotted a coney hiding in a stand of tall grass. With the sureness of something that I had done thousands of times, I automatically slowed my breathing as I raised my bow, took a deep breath, releasing it halfway and then holding my breath as I aimed. When I was certain that my arrow would hit the animal's fluttering heart, I loosed, killing it instantly, mercifully. Silently I gave thanks to Eru for providing this rabbit for my table.
Deciding that one coney should be sufficient for just the two of us, I moved forward to retrieve my kill, eager to return to Éowyn before she grew worried. It was then that I felt the odd sensation of another's presence behind me. I started to turn, thinking that Éowyn had joined me, but there was a sudden movement, and then I was hit in the side of my head with something heavy and cold, the shock of it paralyzing my body and stealing my breath from me as I was shoved into the icy waters of the River Ringló.
I heard a loud splash as I was tending the horses, but it took a minute for it to occur to me that anything might be amiss. "Faramir?" I called, hoping that he would not be too wroth if I frightened his quarry away with my voice. But he did not answer, and as I stood silently, listening for any sign of him, I saw something that made my blood run as cold as the snow that covered the surrounding countryside.
My husband, obviously in distress, was floating face-up in the wide river, his arms and legs flung wide. His limp body was being dragged downstream by the swift current, and I wailed his name, afraid that he was dead. I dared not jump in to swim after him, though he was not very far from the bank, knowing that the frigid water would steal my strength from me before I could bring him halfway back to shore. Quickly I mounted Windfola, as he was still saddled. I was eager to keep Faramir within sight as I allowed my horse to choose his own path as he kept pace with my husband, continuing to call out to him, hoping beyond hope that he might answer me and be able to free himself from his predicament.
Because of the thick vegetation within the vale, the road veered away from the river, and I was forced to change course, temporarily losing sight of Faramir as I urged Windfola to gallop upon the frozen mud of the road. I absolutely refused to surrender my husband to the river. As the stallion reached the bottom of the hill, I could see the river clearly again, and it took me only a moment to realize that I had passed Faramir, but he was quickly approaching the place where the road rejoined the river. I saw now that he was fumbling weakly in the water, as his heavy cloak was near to pulling his head beneath the surface, and his clumsy flailing was doing little good in bringing him closer to the bank. There was only a second to make my decision, and then without further thought, I urged Windfola into the river. My mount did not shy from the freezing water as I maneuvered him into position to block my husband's further descent into the River Ringló.
"Faramir!" I cried in fear as soon as his body bumped into my mount's side. He was deathly pale, no longer struggling, and obviously wounded in some manner since I was certain that he could not have succumbed this quickly to the cold water. Using my dagger, I sliced through the tie that held his heavy cloak fast against his throat, taking care not to cut him as well. As the fur-lined cloth fell away from him, I wound my fingers into his sodden clothing, and using all of my strength, I hauled him with much difficulty over the pommel of the saddle, holding tightly to him as I turned Windfola for the shore, digging my heels into his sides. Faramir moaned quietly, growing more uncomfortable now as his wet clothing was rapidly freezing in the cold air.
As my stallion climbed from the river with some difficulty, my husband almost slipped from my grasp, but somehow I kept hold of him. When I was certain that he would not fall from the saddle, I urged Windfola to run as he had never run before. I knew that Faramir must be very uncomfortable draped across my mount's withers, the pommel of the saddle digging into his ribs with every jarring stride, but I knew that he needed warmth immediately. In what seemed an eternity, but was certainly only a couple of minutes, we reached the campsite, and I commanded Windfola to kneel upon the ground near the tent. With the last of my strength, I dragged my husband into our tent and covered him with my mostly dry cloak, grateful that he was at least out of the bone-chilling wind.
It was lucky that we yet carried some dry firewood within our pack, and with hands shaking as much from cold as from fear, I immediately set about building a fire as close to the tent opening as I dared to warm my husband, speaking to him the entire time, praying that he might answer me. He lay unmoving now, unresponsive to my voice, his skin freezing cold, his hair and clothing frozen, and my heart thundered in my chest as I was uncertain if he would live.
The fire felt wonderful in the frigid air as I reentered the tent, kneeling next to Faramir, finding his heartbeat pulsing slowly but steadily at the base of his throat, and I immediately began to remove his stiff clothing one piece at a time, using my dagger when necessary. Luckily, I found no evidence of frostbite on his fingers or toes as I removed his gloves, boots and stockings. As I worked, the fire began to do its work, and he began to shiver violently, his teeth chattering audibly over the crackling of the flames. When he lay bare upon the ground, I quickly unfurled our bedroll next to him and rolled him onto his stomach atop it, intending to dress him in dry clothing before I covered him with blankets. I gasped when I noticed the wound upon his head, a lump the size of an egg just behind his right ear that was bleeding, the flow increasing as Faramir became warmer. I quickly found a spare shirt and pressed it against the lump, praying that he would awaken soon.