Smiling Obsidian Soul: Chapter Two

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N: Okay, so here comes the second chapter. There was a grammar mistake I made in the disclaimer of the last chapter (I know, I know, but still) it's supposed to be literature instead of literate. Hope you enjoy! Same disclaimer applies, and Peter Jackson is a god. *I'm not worthy! I'm not worthy! I'm not worthy! * Longer chapters soon, and lots more of Eowyn's diary, in the next chapter. And thanks to all my wonderful reviewers!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few weeks passed, and Faramir felt he could look at it again. He walked slowly toward it, as if it was some wild thing. Carefully, he picked it up, and just stared at it for an hour, and wept. Bitterly, he put it down. The next day, he worked up his courage again, and tentively picked it up. And He opened it up, treating it as glass, and read:

Dear Diary,

I still see no point in this exercise, but still I obey my husband's wishes. I do not know why, for I am my own person. Some days I wish I could scream and run away from this life, be carefree, but I am weary, even though I was healed in body. My mind and soul still dwell in darkness. My heart is shrouded. The only one who can touch it is my beloved husband. I love him so very dearly, I should not put him through what I do, but he is everything a woman dreams about. But still I am unhappy. It is not his fault, for he is the only bright spot in this world of mine. He is everything. I just wish I could escape! I long for freedom from this weight, this wearisome life. I take little pleasure in things now. Oh, to escape! I hear the voices of my dear and some of his men; it brings me to my senses. I am writing gibberish, yet I am confessing my darkest dreams and fears. Oh, what a fool I am! Well, farewell...

The White Lady of Middle Earth

Faramir lowered the book, his face ash tears, searing their path down his cheeks, unchecked and unchallenged. Then he ran. He didn't know where, he just knew he had to get out, and away from that book, from this place, everything. Her scent still lingered in this room: her room. He stumbled, blinded by his tears. He tripped and fell, and stayed where he was, weeping. A primal scream rose from his throat, and he pounded his fists against the wall, and sobbed.