A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I really appreciated them, and I hope that you guys like this chappy; remember, I'm taking my e-mail off display tomorrow, so today is your last chance to e-mail me about the OC's, and I apologize for the short chappy, in order for the story to be spaced out right, this chapter had to be short...sorry. : -)

Reviews:

-The Elvish Pirate And The Hobbit Ninja: I'm home-schooled too! What a cool coincidence; anyway, the picture that you drew sounded really funny, so thanks for reviewing and sharing your opinion. : -)

-windstar: Glad you liked the chappy; thanks for the review: -D

Uncertain Fates

That morning, as Eowyn walked through the beautiful gardens in Mirkwood, she spotted Legolas.

When he heard the sound of footsteps approaching, he looked up and was surprised to see Eowyn.

"Good morning, my lady," he said politely.

"Good morning, my lord," Eowyn said, just as politely.

"Would you care to join me?" he asked, gesturing for her to join him on the bench.

"Thank you, my lord," she said, taking him up on his offer.

"You need not call me that, my lady; I would prefer it if you called me by my name," he said, for he had always preferred to be addressed as Legolas, and not 'my lord'.

"As you wish," said Eowyn. "And I would be grateful if you did the same for me."

Eowyn was trying not to think about her previous but brief life in Gondor; she just wanted to start afresh.

For some reason, she could not stop thinking about her bitter parting with Aragorn; she didn't know why she acted the way she did, but she did not feel too sorry about it.

"Does Aragorn always do that?" she asked suddenly.

"Does he always do what, Eowyn?" Legolas asked.

"Leave on such short notice," replied the lady of Rohan.

"Not always, but he is a Ranger, and they tend to move from place to place sometimes—are you upset because he has left on such short notice?"

Eowyn put her head down a little; this wasn't really like her. Aragorn had promised to return and she knew that he wasn't going to stay forever, but she loved his company, and there was just something different about him; he seemed to be more than just a Ranger.

"Me? No, I am not upset, I'm just surprised."

"Well I am sure that he has missed lady Arwen and can hardly wait to return to her."

"I suppose that they are madly in love, then."

"Oh yes, they both love each other very mu—" Legolas cut himself off; after they had met King Thranduil, he and Eowyn had talked for a little while, and she had openly told him her reasons for running away; the main reason was that she didn't love her husband, so Legolas now felt guilty, knowing that he had touched a soft spot.

"I'm sorry, Eowyn; I didn't mean—"

"It's alright; I can hear about love without getting upset. Tell what she looks like."

And so as Legolas described Arwen to her, the Elven woman seemed to be extremely beautiful, and after she had heard many things about her, she almost wanted to ask to meet her.

000

The orcs suddenly stopped and parted to let a large orc walk through; he stopped when he reached Faramir.

Two strong orcs were holding Faramir, and others had their swords pointed at him, so he knew better than to move.

"Ah, new slave," said the big orc.

Faramir wanted to do nothing more than shrink away, when he smelt the breath of the large orc; it smelt like rotten flesh and stale water.

The orc made sure that he was now talking directly into Faramir's face.

"I am Bashgash the cruel, and I am going to make your life a living hell!" and after he spat in Faramir's face, he burst into laughter.

"Get away from me, you piece of filth," Faramir said, maintaining his dignity despite that humiliation.

"You call me filth?" the orc asked angrily, tilting his head and walking closer to the Ranger, "I'll show you what filth is; mark him, boys!"

Faramir fought with all his might as they dragged him on the muddy ground, but to no avail.

He was brought to a fire, where he could see a brand.

"I hope you're enjoying this as much as I am!" squeaked an orc.

The last thing that Faramir remembered was seeing an orc hurl a large rock directly at him, and not being able to move, due to the fact that two orcs were still holding him; after that, all went black.

0-0

When he awakened, he was lying on the dirty muddy ground; he put his hand on his muddy forehead and found blood.

The orcs were nowhere to be seen, but Faramir knew that they still had to be near; this was only the beginning of his life as a slave in Mordor, and if he wanted to survive then he would have to get used to it.

Suddenly, he saw something on his lower forearm; he touched it and he felt a sudden pain: he had been branded while he was unconscious. He was glad that he was not awake to experience that painful ordeal, but he could understand what the branding said; it looked almost as though it was some form of elvish, but he had a feeling that that wasn't the case.

He had no idea how right he was, for it was not a language of the elves, it was that of Mordor; suddenly, he felt a rough arm almost drag him up.

"Come on, we've got work to do! Bashgash won't have you lazing around!" shouted an orc.

Faramir was barely able to stand, but he had a strong will to live, and he knew that in order to escape Mordor, he would have to live as a slave until the opportune moment.

000

That morning, Boromir had insisted that he was well enough to at least walk in the garden; the healers had agreed, and said that it would be good for him to get some fresh air.

As he walked in the gardens, he thought that he was alone until he saw a certain chestnut haired woman picking flowers in the lush grass beyond.

"Norah?" he asked, at a tone loud enough for her to hear.

She immediately turned around at the sound of his voice. "My lord, you are out of bed so soon!" she exclaimed, dropping her basket of flowers and running to him.

"I did not think that one was allowed to pick flowers here," Boromir commented, embracing the Rohirric woman.

"I wasn't, but when I mentioned that I was picking them for you, well, what could they say?" she said; Norah was definitely glad that she and Boromir had crossed paths again.

"Well, Norah, I never was one for flowers…" Boromir stated; "But it is your thought that counts."

"My lord," she said. "Has lord Denethor seemed to be acting a little strange to you?"

Boromir figured out what she was trying to say; "Norah, my father can be quite superstitious, which causes him to say things that he doesn't mean."

Norah did not completely understand what Boromir meant when he talked about Denethor being superstitious.

Boromir could tell by the look on her face. "I know that you do not completely understand what I am talking about, but I am not about to make things uncomfortable between us, so let us just leave it at that."

"I…I don't think lord Denethor likes us spending—time together," she said, looking up at him.

"Father cannot control everything; I enjoy your company, if you do not want to spend time with me then so be it, but do not let it be because my father or anyone else influenced you."

And so Norah did not go, instead, she and Boromir took a wonderful walk around the beautiful gardens that surrounded the houses of healing