Ok, I was having some problems posting this chapter, so I might have put 16 and 17 out of order. i will check on that when I can and fix it is need-be.


Éowyn ran through Edoras, heading to the Golden Hall as quickly as she could, dodging through the fights erupting all over the city. Men and even women were rising up against the undead soldiers, learning quickly that the only way to stop them was to take off their rotting heads. The Lady of Ithilien stopped only long enough to grab a sword from a fallen soldier, before continuing towards Meduseld.

She took the steps to the Hall two at a time, trying not to stumble over her skirts. Éowyn burst through the doors and stopped, not knowing which way to go first. She did not have to decide.

"How wonderful for you to join us, milady." A man with evil, blood-red eyes stepped from behind a pillar to stand next to the King's throne. "I am Lord Pelatarn, as you may have guessed. We have been waiting for you." He walked towards her, but stopped as she raised her sword menacingly. She shivered at the smile her gave her, too much like Wormtongue's for her comfort. "Now, none of that. You might hurt someone."

Éowyn narrowed her eyes. She had guessed before by the way Lothiriel said, or rather snarled, this man's name that he was the power behind this attack. "I would love to hurt someone, as long as it was you."

Pelatarn was not fazed. "You may very well wish to kill me, but then, I do not intend to let you near enough to do so. I would rather enjoy seeing whether or not you will hurt…him." He crooked his finger and another figure stepped out of the shadows to stand in front of the necromancer.

Éowyn gasped and her sword wavered. "Faramir?" Her husband stepped forward and she could see him better. He wore all black: black boots, trousers, tunic. Yet Éowyn hardly noticed, for all she could see was that Faramir's beautiful, kind silver eyes were now dark as night, their almost elvish light quenched in shadows. At Pelatarn's signal, Faramir began heading for her, his sword held ready. "Faramir, what are you doing."

Pelatarn laughed. "He is doing what I command him to. I control him now, his soul is dead. He is my slave." He pointed a finger at Éowyn. "Disarm her."

Faramir moved forward in compliance, and Éowyn felt her heart twist as she backed away from her husband. "Faramir, do not do this, please!" He didn't listen to her and she shakily raised her sword. "Faramir!"

Éowyn's breath caught at the dead stare her beloved husband gave her. "Put down the weapon." Faramir's dull, mechanical tone caused tears to well in her eyes and her hands shook.

Pelatarn smirked. "You can put down your sword, or run him through. It is your choice, milady."

Éowyn looked through her tears at her husband. She knew every smile-line on his face, remembered his gentle touch. With a sob, Éowyn dropped the sword, which clattered on the floor with chilling finality. The noise drew her back to the situation and a sudden fear swept her. She had no weapon, no armor. Despite her belief in facing her enemy, Éowyn knew she had to escape, that she could not fight. Turning, she ran from Pelatarn and Faramir. Unfortunately, she only made it through the doors to the terrace before she hit an invisible wall

Against her will, Éowyn turned around as the necromancer walked outside followed by her fallen husband. Pelatarn shook his head. "It is almost a pity to kill you."

Éowyn lifter her chin defiantly. "You will not win, Pelatarn."

The necromancer grinned. "I already have." He raised his hand and dark tendrils shot out towards her. Éowyn instinctively closed her eyes, waiting for the end…but nothing happened. Opening her eyes, the Lady of Ithilien saw the surprise and anger on Pelatarn's face. He shot out the dark tendrils again only to have them seemingly bounce off Éowyn and dissipate. "How is this possible?" he cried.

Éowyn too was confused. He had been able to stop her from moving, yet somehow he wasn't able to kill her. "Perhaps you are not as powerful as you thought," she taunted him.

Pelatarn's eyes burned like molten gold. "I am all powerful! Nothing can repel me, nothing!" His eyes narrowed. "Except for the innocence of a child." The realization enraged him. "No! The Steward cannothave an heir, he must not!" He whirled at Faramir. "Kill her! Kill her and tear the child from her womb!"

Éowyn reeled back from this new knowledge. 'A child? I am going to have a child, Faramir's child.' Everything made sense now, her strange moods, her nausea in the mornings, even Hild's strange words before she left. 'I am going to have a baby.' Yet the hope and happiness that rose in her was suffocated when she saw Faramir lift his sword and walk towards her. She could not move; Pelatarn still held her captive.

'No!' Éowyn felt a new protectiveness overcome her emotions. She would not let anyone harm her child. Yet she was helpless, she could not fight, could not run from her enslaved husband. Tears fell down her cheeks. "Faramir! Faramir do not do this! Please, my love!"

He kept walking towards her, standing now between her and Pelatarn. Éowyn sank to her knees in grief. "Faramir please do not kill us. Do not kill your child!"


Faramir floated behind a wall of nothingness. The darkness surrounded him, swirled around him like a tempest of night. There was no past, no future. Only now. He felt like a child, lost in a storm. A rhyme came to him, a rhyme from the past, sung by a person in his past, yet there was no past. But the children's rhyme came anyway, echoing in the silence.

Father Bird, Father Bird,
Sitting in the tree,
Why do you cry so hard?
Come and play with me!

Oh Little Bird, Little Bird,
You do not understand.
My little heart just hurts so much,
I do not think I can.

But Father Bird, Father Bird,
With you I want to play!
The sun is shining, the grass is green,
Oh what a lovely day!

My Little Bird, Little Bird,
I just do not know why.
Surely there is someone else,
Who is much better than I!

There was more. He knew there was. What was the end? Why was he so confused?

More words filtered into the tempest, words from outside his self-made walls. Disarm her Faramir, do not… 'Do not? Do not what?' As he tried to listen harder, the storm of darkness slowed around him and he moved to his walls. 'Who is there?' the weapon 'What weapon? Is someone hurt?'

Faramir reached the walls, built to keep out the evil. Anymore darkness and he knew he would fall. You will not win 'Who?' He reached out and touched the clear barrier, trying to see through. His breath caught at what he saw. 'Éowyn!' And she was a captive of Pelatarn. 'No, Éowyn!' He began to push against the walls, then remembered that if he left their safety he would fall to the darkness

Pelatarn was furious at something. What was it? Why was Éowyn getting closer? Kill her! 'No! Who is he ordering, I must stop him!' Faramir frantically searched for the person who was to kill his wife. A sword appeared in front of his face and realization hit him. He was the one who was being ordered to kill his Éowyn. And he was following the order 'No. No!' Éowyn began crying. Faramir, do not do this! 'I do not want to, but I cannot leave or I will fall.' She sank to her knees. Faramir, please do not kill us! Do not kill your child!

Faramir froze and time seemed to stop. 'Child? My child? I am going to have a child?' A sudden joy filled his heart. 'Éowyn is going to have my child!' A chill went through him as he realized what he was about to do. He was controlled by Pelatarn and was going to kill his wife and unborn baby. 'NO!' Without a thought to the attacking evil, Faramir tore down the walls he had made to protect his mind and threw himself forward, determined to save his family.


Éowyn sobbed, her eyes closed as if in prayer. "Please," she whispered over and over again. "please, please, please." The sword raised above her head, ready to take her life, the life of her baby…and stopped.

Pelatarn frowned. "Kill her!" Faramir started moving, but again hesitated.

In wonder, Éowyn looked at her husband. His hands were shaking, as was his head. Éowyn's hand came to her mouth as she saw Faramir's eyes change from black back to grey, to black again, back and forth, gaining speed until she could no longer keep track of the change. At last, Faramir closed his eyes and when they flew open…they burned silver again!

Swiftly turning, Faramir brought his sword down at Pelatarn. The surprised necromancer moved away in time, but the blade swept through the man's outstretched hand. Pelatarn howled in pain as he clutched his cloven hand, blood dripping to the ground. The force holding Éowyn in place disappeared and she rushed forward to Faramir's side. He did not look at her. "Éowyn, go inside."

"But…"

"Now! You cannot risk yourself." His eyes blazed fiercely, his glare focused on the man who had tormented him. "I will take care of him." Éowyn reluctantly agreed and slowly slid to the door of Meduseld. Faramir lifted his sword again and pointed it at Pelatarn, trying to ignore the wounds that were sapping his energy even as he stood still. "We finish this now."

Pelatarn glared at the Steward. Without warning, the necromancer's hand went out behind him and Éowyn's fallen sword flew into his good hand. The blade, heated from the power of his touch, glowed red-hot. "I will enjoy killing you, once and for all, little Steward."

The necromancer attacked first, shoving Faramir back with a burst of power from his injured hand. The force hitting his injured body caused Faramir to suck in his breath from the pain, but with grim determination he moved forward a few steps. Gathering his rapidly waning strength, Faramir moved against Pelatarn, attacking rapidly with strokes that the necromancer barely parried. Finally, the Steward disarmed his enemy, the molten sword fallen out of reach.

Pelatarn managed to freeze Faramir's assault with his magic for a moment, though he knew he would not be able to use his power for long. He was using too much to stop the pain and bleeding in his hand. But Pelatarn had one tactic left. "You will not kill me."

Faramir growled as he struggled to free his weapon from the necromancer's grip. "Release my sword and I will show you what I think about that statement."

The Steward frowned at Pelatarn's smug look. "You cannot kill me. I am the only thing keeping you alive. If I die…so do you!"

Faramir gripped his sword tighter, sweat rolling down his face. He knew Pelatarn spoke the truth. His injuries were too great, without the power of the necromancer holding them back as it was, his body could not survive. Faramir smiled at Pelatarn. "You are right, I will die." He relaxed his stance, and the necromancer grinned at Faramir's weakness.

Pelatarn's smirk grew and he lowered his power, certain that the Steward saw things his way. He was wrong. Faramir's eyes narrowed again. "I will die, but my wife and child will live without fear!" With that, the Steward shoved the sword into Pelatarn's chest. And then, the world exploded around him.