A/N: Ha. You know what? I'm gonna stop embarrassing myself, and stop making promises about when the next update will be. Honestly. Because this is just sad. I'll have you know, however, that the lack of updates is totally not my fault. Two words: International Baccalaureate. This program is killing me. It's really challenging, and I really do like it very much, but I have two 4000-word essays, several French papers, plus a huge science project all in this month. My brain took a look at the workload and pissed its pants. Writing this fic really helps me relax when I'm too stressed, and gives me some down time to not think about schoolwork at all. And all you readers and reviewers? You keep me going, and for that I thank you.

Disclaimers: I am alive. J.R.R. Tolkein is dead. Make the connection yourself.

Chapter 13: Faramir vs. Gollum . . .

I found Faramir sitting outside, all alone in the dark and sobbing pitifully.

I steeled myself against the urge to say crushingly mean things, however tempting. Remember, Al, you want the guy to be on your side. You want him to help you. Dissing his dead brother won't get you anywhere, okay? The key here is white lies.

Hey, Faramir. How are you holdin' up?

Faramir wiped his eyes quickly. He looked around. "Who was that?"

Down here, chap. It's me, Al, the Ring. How are you doing?

Faramir let out a long sigh. "I am trying to get over the shock of this news. I simply cannot believe he's gone! Why, it seems like just yesterday, when we were out sparring, and he was teaching me new tricks with the sword. He was always so good at teaching..." he trailed off, and his lower lip trembled. He blinked furiously, and made several valiant attempts at not crying.

"Oh, Boromir!" He failed in his attempts and began sobbing again. "He wasn't always the best brother, but I never felt as though I couldn't count on him for the really important things."

I sat there awkwardly, letting him just vent. It was kinda weird, hearing someone say really nice things about Boromir, as opposed to the opposite. I figured he just needed to work it out before he came to terms with his grief. So I sat there, listening and listening and making the occasional sympathetic and/or empathetic noise. Who knew a person could have so many good things to say about Boromir? Faramir went on for hours, until I started to suspect he was making some of it up.

Finally, thankfully, he stopped. He gave one last sniffle, one last sigh, and just...stopped.

"I really must thank you, Ring, for being my audience. I needed someone to help me through these dark hours, and you were there for me. I shan't forget it."

Ah, well. You know. It wasn't all that hard. You just needed a shoulder to cry on and whatnot, and I'm glad I happened to be there. (Which, by the way, was totally not true. It was all that hard, sitting through endless hours of Boromir-worship and not gagging. But the guy was starting to like me now. Why blow my chances with something as petty as honesty?)

"I shan't forget it," Faramir repeated, firmly.

That's very nice of you, I told him. I didn't mind being your sounding board tonight, man. I've got to tell you, it's kinda nice to listen to someone else for once. Frodo gets tiresome really quickly, if you know what I mean. He's all death and doom and burden and blah blah blah, real heavy melodramatic angst stuff. He makes me feel a billion years older than I already am. And Sam never shuts up about how I'm evil and how I'm gonna kill them all in their sleep, even though he knows perfectly well that's not true. But even those two put together are better than that fucking Gollum, who—

"Wait. Who?"

Gollum. That little gobshite who's been following us around for the past few weeks? You can't have missed him; he's really ugly, not to mention almost naked.

"So I was right! There was another one of you! I thought I was merely seeing things, and then I convinced myself that the third person I imagined was actually you. But there is another?"

And right then, I saw the answer to my problems. Or, the answer to some of them, at least. Some of the many. If Faramir really meant what he said about owing me one, this could work out really, really well for me.

Oh, there's another, alright, I told him conversationally. And he is bad news.

"Really?" Faramir asked, intrigued. Thoughts of the dead Boromir were disappearing from his mind already, their place taken by the potential of a really gory fight. Men are all alike.

Yeah. He's been hanging around with us ever since we started travelling alone, without any armed warriors to keep us safe. That, in itself, is a little suspicious already. Then, he keeps insinuating that Frodo should give me to him. Plus, he keeps playing on Frodo's goodwill. The boy is just way too nice to random waifs, and Gollum is using that to his advantage, getting closer and closer when Frodo's guard isn't up. In fact, the only thing Sam and I ever agree on is that Gollum has to go. The wretch is planning something. I can feel it. Something involving ring-napping, and probably murder, too.

The really disturbing thing was, as I told Faramir all this, I realized I wasn't even making any of it up. Gollum probably really had something bigger than his raving-lunatic-desperate-to-have-The-Ring act up his non-existent sleeve. Creeeeeee-eeeeepy.

Faramir quickly ordered one of his men to be on the look out for a creature that looked like Gollum. Less than a minute later, the man came back and said, "Sire, we have located it. It is in the Forbidden Pool."

Faramir frowned. "The punishment for entering the Pool is death!"

Instead of dwelling on why the hell they would deem some random pool in the middle of nowhere as forbidden, I seized the opportunity and forged on.

Don't you realize? This is a perfect excuse?

"A perfect excuse for what?"

Lord, they make them bloodthirsty, but they sure don't make them smart, do they? It's a perfect excuse to get rid of Gollum, you dumb-ass?

Faramir glared at me for the 'dumb-ass', but he replied, "You mean, an excuse to kill him?"

No, I mean an excuse to invite him to a spot of afternoon tea. What do you think?

"I think I should inform young Frodo of this new development," he said, totally out of the blue. "I like you, Rin—Al," he said, giving me a look. He was so earning brownie points for using my name. "Even if you are turning out to be more of a smart aleck than I initially thought you were. I really do like you, but I'm also not a complete idiot. I've heard your side of it, but I have no plans on killing someone without at least hearing the other side. Frodo shall come along with us, and we shall see about getting this creature out of the Forbidden Pool."

Dammit. Okay, so Faramir's smarter than his brother. Which, granted, isn't a huge feat, but right then, it kind of threw a wrench into things.

We went back into the cave and roused Frodo from his slumber. Wow, you two must be really tired. You're all alone in a little cavern, and Sam isn't trying to rape you at all!

Frodo coughed, and hastily snatched me back up.

Whoa, easy on the goods there, I warned him as he slid me back onto his chain.

"I trust that the Ring hasn't been bothering you too, much, sir?" Frodo asked Faramir with his wide and guileless eyes. He really has got to stop using those eyes as weapons.

"No, not at all," Faramir replied lightly. "I quite enjoyed his company, actually."

And I, in turn, enjoyed his company, which is a lot more than I can say of your company of late, Frodo.

Faramire cut the tension before it could escalate into a fight about who was right and who was trying to murder a perfectly innocent being just because it would be the easier thing to do.

"Mr. Baggins? Please, step outside with me, if you will?"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . TBC