Éowyn and Elladan entered as Éomer finished telling the others what had happened. Though Éowyn's face was dry, it was obvious by the redness of her eyes and the wetness of Elladan's shoulder that she still was not all right. Elrohir looked up at his twin, his face grim. "El, could you take them into another room? We need space to work."

Elladan nodded and quickly moved Éowyn, Lothiriel, and Éomer into the adjoining room, the Queen's bedroom which had not been used since Théoden's wife, Queen Elfhild, had died years before. Even though the elf-lord closed the door, Éowyn refused to move any farther into the room, staying by the elegantly carved doorway. Lothiriel sank exhausted into a large chair while Éomer stood beside her, leaning heavily on the chair yet not willing to sit down. Elladan stood to the side, one ear listening to what his brothers were doing in the other room Lothiriel, hating the horrible silence, looked up at the king of Rohan. "Éomer, why did you not want to put Faramir in the first room we came to?"

The king stared at the wall, thinking of the past. "It was our cousin Théodred's room." He glanced over at Éowyn, pale and tight-lipped. "The memories are too painful." As Éomer spoke, his gaze stayed on his sister. Though he longed to comfort her, he knew all too well her stages of grief. Her tears were broken only by periods of coldness when she shunned all help with a sharp tongue. The king's heart tightened. Only Faramir could comfort her then, his warm heart melting her cold one. If Faramir…if he died, Éomer didn't know if his sister could survive.


As Aragorn treated Faramir's back, Elrohir concentrated his healing powers on the Steward's internal injuries. The elf-lord frowned. He was worried more about the darkness that Pelatarn had used to keep Faramir alive. Having been dependent on the darkness for so long, the Steward's body had forgotten how to work for itself. Try as he might, Elrohir was barely able to keep up as vital organs began shutting down. 'Tir, help me do this, fight the darkness.' The elf felt Estel gently lay Faramir on his back. The king's presence joined him and together they tried to heal their brother.

In the darkness of his mind, Faramir let himself float away, holding onto life by a thread. Distantly he heard his brothers' calling, but he paid them no heed. Though Pelatarn was destroyed his evil remained and, with the Steward's protective walls crumbled to ruin, it had free rein. The only escape is death, whispered the darkness. There is nothing for you in life. Your loved ones do not need you. You are a shell, there is no light. Light has fallen. Death is coming, do not fight. Do not fight. Let go. 'It is time.' Smiling, Faramir let go of his last connection with life. 'Good-bye.'

Elrohir's head jerked back as his healing power was thrown from Faramir's body. Seeing Estel's pale face, he realized that the same thing had happened to the king. 'What just happened?' Looking down at Faramir, Elrohir thought his heart would stop. His brother's battered chest was no longer moving. He wasn't breathing! "No, please." he whispered. The elf reached for a pulse. There was none. "NO!"

In the Queen's Room, Éowyn stiffened. Something was wrong, she felt it in her gut. Elladan turned his head toward the doorway, his face whitening as he felt his twin's jumbled feelings. Suddenly, Elrohir's cry of denial flew into the room. Its meaning was clear to everyone. Lothiriel shuddered as a sob tore from her throat; Éomer grabbed her hand, not so much to comfort Lothiriel as to help control his own grief. Elladan drew in a ragged breath and closed his eyes, trying to stop the tears.

Éowyn's face was blank. No it wasn't possible. 'He can't be dead. He can't be, there must be a mistake!' Throwing open the door, she ran into the other room. Aragorn was leaning over Faramir's still body, pushing on his brother's chest as he tried to restart the Steward's heart. Next to him, Elrohir had his hand hovering over Faramir's head struggling to pull his brother back from the edge of death. Without thinking, Éowyn rushed to her husband's side, cradling his head in her arms. "No, Faramir, don't leave me. Please, don't leave me!" Her tears fell onto his pale, lifeless face. Éowyn laid her head beside Faramir's, her voice a whisper. "Don't leave me to raise our child myself."


Yup, Evil Skittle definately took over there. Oh, and congratulations to those who guessed Eowyn was pregnant.