As the evening sun burned lower and lower Faramir rode all the faster. No other horse in Minas Tirith could have withstood the pace he was driving. It was as though his very life depended on the time he could make. When darkness had long since fallen and Faramir had difficulty seeing his way, not only because of the night, but because of his own fatigued, bleary eyes, he put all his faith in the charger and rode blindly on through the Stonewain Valley.

Faramir rode on unceasingly at breakneck pace even though his body screamed at him to sleep before going one step further. His horse was perfectly loyal though and did not falter once. Faramir was beginning to believe what the stable master had always insisted about the war horse being of at least half-blood Mearas breed. When he began to sense the world behind him in the east growing lighter, the Steward slowly down and allowed the horse a moment to drink from a nearby stream and to graze. Faramir sat edgily under a tree wishing he could be enjoying this outing.

He had not stopped trembling with fury for at least an hour after rushing from the city. The only thing he knew at this point was that he would not sit patiently in a comfortable walled city and wait for Éowyn's return. He had done that the last time and his vision had proved to him his error.

Faramir decided that he needed to be back on the road and remounted, his body protesting very loudly. Little did the Steward know that the funeral march of Theoden had taken the northward route around Druadan and that in taking the southern road through Stonewain he had already gotten ahead of them.

Before starting off he allowed himself a couple drinks from his skin, then quickly charged off again. Over the next hour's ride Faramir found himself hardly able to sit upright and was often letting his eyes go closed for a moment or two or three before nearly slipping and waking again with a start. Luckily his horse required little direction and kept up the pace without urging. Before long Faramir was nearly laying his head on the horse's neck, but he still stubbornly refused to stop or even slow down a little. Again he let his eyes close only this time sleep took advantage of the opportunity and Faramir fell into a very deep sleep, falling to a heap by the roadside.

It was at the same time back in Minas Tirith that Glorfindel had finally summoned the courage to tell Erestor that the Steward had ridden out with his water supply containing a sleeping draft made from the famed water of Mirkwood.

---

"You gave him WHAT?" Erestor shouted.

Glorfindel drew himself up with as much pride as he possibly could. "The idea was that he should drink it at the riverbank and have some sleep. He did not sleep that night, i could hear him pacing until dawn. When that guard told me he found him asleep i figured it worked. Then when we found him sleeping in the study i thought it just had not yet worn off. In the stable i handed him his waterskin, fortunately i saw he had left it by his desk... i noticed it was a little heavy yet, but i thought nothing of it -"

"Fortunately, you say? You have been trying to find new ways to get killed ever since Námo sent you back here after you slew that Balrog, haven't you? See here now, good master of the Golden Flower, you will not drag me down with you like a fell demon! If you have any sense of decency left you will go out there and find that boy," Erestor more told than suggested.

"What about you? It would be faster if we split up," Glorfindel offered.

"Oh no!" Erestor said, backing away. "You got yourself, and that poor young man, into this; now you can very well get back out on your own. Besides, someone has to stay here and keep order with these people, if they don't behead me. I do not believe they are all as educated as Faramir. Now go and find him. In case you are not aware, he is not going to sleep well for a night like Elrond or i, or you, would under such influence. He will probably be asleep for a week or so. That leaves you plenty of time to find him before someone else does and me plenty of time to end up being deposed or more."

After Glorfindel left Erestor sat back wondering why he did not just stay in nice, peaceful Imladris with the elderly Hobbit.

---

So the young Steward will be getting some much needed rest after all... :)

To AM: You are most welcome, Middle-earth history lessons are my specialty! Faramir's dream - that depends on what you think it means, but i think it will become clear soon. Our Faramir was a little too irate to do much explaining for us or the poor Elves from Rivendell last time around.

To all other reviewers: You are all wonderful. I appreciate any and all input. Some seem a little more lenient than others with our favorite Steward. Don't be too rough on him though, he's had a rough life.