A/N
Thanks so much to my reviewers! Especially Kaladelia Undomiel and Lilan, who have read and reviewed almost all off my stories so far. You guys make writing worthwhile!
Disclaimer: check first chapter
Chapter Two: No Hope
Lord Faramir walked through the gardens of the Houses of Healing, speaking polite greetings to any who walked by him, smiling warmly and making small conversation. But his eyes would occasionally wander away from others, and he would be found staring silently towards the east.
Although Faramir showed a kind, thoughtful attitude on the outside, on the inside he was troubled. The shadows upon Minas Tirith grew ever darker, and a sense of foreboding filled his heart with dread. Just a few days ago, Aragorn and the other fighters had gone off to do battle with Sauron at the Black Gates.
Faramir worried for them. They were such a small force, and there seemed no possible way that any would come out of the fight alive. And once Aragorn lost the fight, the Enemy was sure to turn his evil eye once more upon Minas Tirith. The people of Gondor looked to him for protection, yet he himself was unsure.
He had been left here, in the Houses of Healing, so that he may regain strength and allow his wounds to get better. They called him brave and noble, cooing over him like children over a firstborn kitten. But the thought that would not leave his mind, the haunting, mocking thought, was that he was to be the first to let the White City fall. He would fail his people.
Faramir looked back towards the east, and a single tear fell down his tired, worn face. There was no way that Aragon was coming back. No way.
Despair is a demon
Chasing away light
A darkness, a shadow
An everlasting night
No way to be rid of it
No way to fight
You can only wait and watch
For the end to come in sight
A/N
Whoah! I am so sorry about this short length, but that was all I really planned to say about Faramir. I promise more next chapter!
Please review. No flamers.