A/N: At last we reach the end! (I'm sad.) Thanks to everyone who left a review. I was very pleased by the enthusiastic response that New Memories received, and I hope that very soon Faramir will gift me with another story that you all can enjoy just as much! Thank you.

The next morning dawned cold and snowy, and I rose and dressed myself quietly so I would not disturb my wife, who I think had slept very little as I had often felt her gentle hands upon me, checking my brow for any sign of fever and my wounds for bleeding throughout the night. The dagger wound had bled copiously and was painful but not life-threatening, though I allowed Éowyn to fuss over me if only to give her something to do to help to take her mind off of the other horrific events of the day.

As she had tended me, she at last spoken to me quietly, revealing with some difficulty the details of her terrifying relationship with Grima Wormtongue. It was not surprising that she had not spoken of him sooner when I heard how he had haunted her every movement from the moment he had first gained entry to Meduseld. Apparently, and with good reason, he was someone that she heartily wished to forget, and I had decided to rise before she did so I might help her achieve her goal that much sooner.

Emerging from the tent opening into the biting cold, I found Grima's body laying stiffly beneath a blanket of new fallen snow, and I set about building a cairn over him where he lay, since the ground was too cold to dig, and there wasn't enough dry fuel to start a large enough fire to burn a corpse into ash. It was hard work, but I welcomed it, glad to be able to help lay to rest Éowyn's only fear, so to speak. Though I worked quietly, the only sound being the occasional thud of a stone as I lay it atop the pile, my wife soon joined me and silently began to help me in my task. It was not long before the cairn was completed, and I wondered aloud if I should say a few words over the man.

"No, Faramir. This man is not worthy of your words. Nor would I have his grave marked, for no person in this world would ever feel sadness that they know not whatever became of him, no one would grieve his passing, and I would not bother any who pass here with the dreary detail of where he lies."

I nodded, deferring to her wishes, and then we reentered the tent to partake of a cold breakfast, ready to move from this place as soon as possible despite the poor weather. After we broke our fast, Éowyn insisted on checking my wounds once more before we once again left the tent, she, to saddle our mounts, and I, to collapse the tent and load Seregon's pack upon his back.

Though Éowyn did not look back as we rode away, I could not help but to take one last backward glance, noting that the campsite, the cairn, all were quickly being covered by a blanket of smooth, pristine snow, the only signs of our passage being our own tracks as we left it all behind.

Before we had even reached Dol Amroth, I noticed a change in the air, a different scent, a different feel. It was sunny and warmer here, and there was no snow, even upon the ground. Faramir, smiling in anticipation, rode ahead of me a short way upon the road, stopping when he came to the summit of the next hill. He turned Simbelmynë to face me, and then he waited patiently for me to come to him. I did not hurry Windfola, if anything, I walked him even slower, savoring this moment as I enjoyed watching the delight upon my husband's face as he watched me.

Finally cresting the hill, I was rendered speechless by the sight before me. The city of Dol Amroth was upon the right, but completely surrounding it and up and down the western edge of all of the land was the vastest expanse of blue-grey water that I had ever seen. The sea was larger than I could ever have imagined.

"Oh, Faramir! It is so beautiful!" I exclaimed. When I looked back to him, he was smiling broadly at me. "And it is the same color as your eyes, my love!" He blushed at that.

He gestured at the broad sweep of land that lay below us. "Éowyn, this is the land of my mother, and I want you to breathe your fill of the air, view all that you can bear to look upon, take your ease upon the broad strip of sand that edges the churning sea, but above all, I want you to be happy here, as I have always been."

"I think that shall not be difficult, my lord." I gazed over the water some more. "It is so large!"

"Ah, but there is more that just its size! There is the sound of it, the scent of it. To watch the waves crash upon the shore is to see true magic at work. Are you ready to go on?"

"Almost," I murmured, drawing Windfola closer to Simbelmynë. The sea was indeed beautiful, but even it could not compare with the beauty of the sheer happiness that I spied upon my love's face. I wished for this moment never to end as I drank him in with my eyes, memorizing every angle of his face, every sparkle within his eyes, every curve of his lush mouth as his smile faded for a moment and then returned full strength. And then, when I had committed the wondrous view to memory, I leaned in and kissed him gently to fix the happy memory firmly in my mind.

"Race you to the castle," I said with an impish grin, and before he was thinking lucidly again, I was halfway down the hill dragging poor Seregon along behind me, my husband's laughter ringing in my ears.

END