A/N: Hey guys, I hope that you all enjoy this chappy; I know that It's short, and I'm sorry; but I assure ya'll that they'll get nice and long again. Anways, thanks for all of the reviews!

Reviews:

-The Elvish Pirate And The Hobbit Ninja: Yes, Faramir rules! Thanks for the review: )

-windstar: Oh, how we all want him to... Thanks for taking the time to review. : - )

-xiaoweisan: Thanks for reviewing! Yeah, it is unfair that Faramir should always be the one to suffer. ; )

-lalalalalala: Wow, thanks; it sounds like you went through a lot of trouble to find this fic, thanks for reading and reviewing: - D

-classacte: Thanks for the review, I'm glad you like the fic!

Thanks guys! These are the most reviews I've gotten on one chappy since my oneshot 'Safe With Me' so thanks!

Uncertain Fates

During the time which Faramir had been marching with the orcs, Haradrim, and Shadow elves, lady Eowyn had been unconscious.

When she finally opened her eyes, she found herself staring at a starry sky. Now aware and awake, Eowyn sat up and looked around; for a moment she actually thought that everything had all just been a bad dream…but that was not true, for she saw a camp fire, and Gondorian soldiers were gathered around it.

Eowyn's head hurt her terribly, so terribly that she currently did not have the strength to stand up on her feet.

"Where am I?" she wondered to herself; for she could see trees in the distance, but could clearly tell that they were no longer in Mirkwood.

She almost burst into tears as she rehashed all that she could remember: her friend Arial had been fatally wounded possibly killed by a Gondorian arrow; and she had been dragged away and was now bound for Minas Tirith: The very place that she ran away from.

000

Avalyn had sent Hyacinth to go for help, and the Elven woman soon returned with Legolas, Aranel, and three healers; when they checked his pulse, and found that it was still there, though faint, it gave them all some kind of joy that he would make it through.

000

Faramir dropped the dagger, and stared at the man as he breathed his last breaths; when his eyes fell on the gaping hole in Sherah's neck, he knew that the man would not survive. Faramir had know time to delay, he had to make his way out of the tent unnoticed, for it was only a matter of time until someone entered and found him.

There was no time to try to remove Sherah's blood from his clothes, for that was almost impossible. His tunic was stained with his blood; Faramir grabbed Sherah's sword, and darted out of the tent like a shadow.

Faramir had not though of a destination until now—now that he was practically running for his life. He knew that it would be too long a shot to run all the way to Minas Tirith.

After a little bit of thinking, he finally decided that he would go to Cair Andros; besides, he could reunite with Tatiana, and that would be worth more than what he could imagine at that time.

He had decided not to take a horse, for he feared that it would draw attention, and though he had the disadvantage of going on foot, he would have the advantage of a head start; and since he was an Ithilien Ranger, he knew that he would be able to find a nook or cranny to sleep.

But right now, sleep was the least of his worries; he wanted to get as big a head start as possible, and so he knew that he would be running for a long, long while.

0-0

That had happened three hours ago, and he had gotten a huge head start indeed.

And he had chosen the right night to escape, for the camp was very busy, so no one had the time to keep up with "the slave" and so everything continued as normal until Selwyn remembered that he had to go and see Sherah, for they had promised to meet up that night to talk about their strategy.

He though it strange that Sherah had not come to him first, for he was the one who seemed so eager to talk about their strategy.

As Selwyn approached the tent, he got a sudden cold chill; he could faintly smell blood.

He quickly entered, and saw the soldier of Harad lying on the ground in his own blood; Selwyn remained calm; he called some of his fellow elves and also Haradrim, and went over to Sherah. He checked Sherah's pulse on his cold wrist, and found none.

Yes, he and Sherah had their bickering sessions, but all in all, they were alike in a lot of ways.

Selwyn lifted up Sherah's head, and closed his half open eyes.

"Do any of you know who the last one in here to see him was?" Selwyn asked sharply.

All of them shook their heads—all but one; he stepped forward from the rest.

"I am Mordecai, Sherah's adjutant; I was sent by him to bring a man by the name of Faramir here. He is the last man that I saw enter."

Selwyn observed the dead man; there was obviously a sign of struggle. "I want you all to go and find him—he cannot be far."

They stood still for a moment, waiting to see if he was going to say something else.

"Go!" Selwyn shouted; for he hated having to repeat things.

When they left, he looked upon the dead man once more, hoping that they would not return with just their long hands…hoping that Sherah's death would be avenged. But he would have to think about revenge some other time, because Bashgash the cruel entered, and when he saw the body of the fallen, he showed no emotion.

"We cannot wait around for you to catch the villain; we must go and aid my fellow soldiers in Osgiliath!"

"Can you not show a morsel of respect for the dead?" Selwyn wanted to say, but instead, he let his tougher side come out. "Of course we will not just simply 'wait around' we will set out first thing tomorrow morning as we had originally planned; and it should not be so hard to catch the murderer, consider that we know who he is."

"Let me guess…it is the slave boy—I am assuming that you underestimated him," the orc sneered.

"Be hush, foul thing!" Selwyn ordered out of anger.

But Bashgash was terribly offended, he drew his sword and pointed it to Selwyn's neck; "You might not want to say that again, elf boy, for next time I will not be so tolerant," and with that being said, he stormed out of the tent.

0-0

Faramir ran on despite the terrible fatigue; he knew that there was a big chance of recapture, but that was a risk that he had to take. When he thought of seeing Tatiana again, it seemed to give him the extra boost he needed to persevere.

He knew that The Shadow Elves were most likely already hot on his trail, that was why he had not been able to find a place to rest; he wanted to gain as big a distance as was possible, but he knew that he would eventually have to find a resting place—and food—and water, for if he didn't, chances were that he would collapse, for it had been a while since he had been fed, and even then it was dried, stale crust, and water with unidentified things in it.

He could hear his own heart beating as he continued to run, he had never wished that he was a wood elf more than he did then; but there was no use in wishing that he was someone else, for he knew that for him to get to his destination, he would have to focus more on where he was going, rather than what was behind him.

He could not hear any voices behind him. That was a comfort. But he didn't know how much longer he could run on, he kept on trying to tell himself that he was running for his life, but it only added to the fear.

The fear of getting caught and never seeing his loved ones again; oh how he longed to return to the white city of Gondor; there was no one in that city whom he missed more than his brother. Yes, he did in fact miss him more than his own father. It hurt him to think of it, but he knew that Denethor didn't even care where he was…he only hoped that Marcus and his fellow soldiers were not dead, and were able to return to Gondor so that they could tell Denethor that he was innocent; for they had proof: Marcus had seen him in captivity with his own eyes.

That would be too much evidence, and all Gelmir had was his word…his untruthful word; surely Denethor wouldn't continue to believe the worst…would he?

As he ran, he failed to notice that ten shadows were behind; they were not close by, but they were able to see him.

Faramir thought that he was alone, so he slowed his running to more of a brisk walk, to conserve what energy he had left—little did he know that he should have continued running!

00-0

The men of Harad and the Shadow Elves watched Faramir from a distance; they had caught up with him by journeying on horseback. They had pushed the poor creatures to their utmost limit.

The horses had all but died of exhaustion, so they sprinted on foot. Seeing that they were well rested, and had had the luxury of riding on horseback half the way, they caught up with him considerably fast.