Summary: The Great Plague attacks Middle earth again. In a desperate attempt to save Éowyn and Elboron, Faramir sends them away. But things do not go so well as Faramir falls ill himself.
A/N: I'm back! Sorry, but I'll have to end this story... I love this story, but, as Robert Frost said, "Nothing gold can stay." Thanks for all the lovely reviews.
Disclaimer: The excerpt of the poem was written by Robert Frost. Most characters belong to Tolkien.
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower:
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
There was a mixture of colors over the horizon in the west: amber, gold, purple, orange, red, and perhaps, a hint of brown. A great wind rose from the Sea and riffled Éowyn's hair.
It was all gone. The fear, death, the Plague. And, if the Valar allowed, it would not come back ever again.
Elboron whimpered gently as he toddled over to a small bush of roses. Someone had stuck a tiny rosebush into a clay wine jar. The bush grew and grew until now, the roots are beginning to cause cracks in the jar. There was only one rose left, and on the floor were most of its petals.
"You were right," Faramir whispered into her hair: "Elboron has grown. I have been away too long, my love."
"I've been trying to tell you, haven't I?" Éowyn teased.
Faramir chuckled and sandwiched Éowyn's hands between his, saying, "Aye, I suppose you have. I apologize, lady." He bent to kiss her cheek, hesitated, and then kissed her lips.
When they pulled apart for air, Éowyn asked, "What did Aragorn say when you told him you knew how the Plague was spreading."
That memory was nearly three months old. Faramir thought for a while and said, "He was doubtful at first, but when I explained everything to him, he cried, 'What fools we have been!'" Faramir smiled. "I gave you plenty of credit, Éowyn."
"Why?"
"If you were not by me at that moment, I would not have been looking at the River, and the revelation would not have struck me," Faramir said, clasping her tighter.
Éowyn cocked her head. "True."
Faramir smiled. "I love you," he said.
Éowyn nodded. Then she said, "Oh, speaking of love, I think we may have a wedding on my hands, Faramir."
He pretended to look shocked and shot a glance at Elboron. "Our son is a little bit young, don't you think, Éowyn? Or has he found a beautiful beauty from the isle that suited his taste," he said. The corners of his mouth twitched.
Éowyn laughed. "Nay, nay. It's between Beinna and Bergil," she said. "Elboron's maid and Beregond's son."
Faramir raised an eyebrow. "Bergil is with Beinna?" he said slowly, as if tasting something for the first time. "She's too tall for him!"
Éowyn laughed and went inside. Faramir stood outside, watching Elboron. Elboron was still playing with the rosebush. And, like a great drop of blood, the last petal of the last rose fell. He watched it slowly float onto the ground before being blown away by the wind. But Faramir saw, amidst the dark leaves, tiny buds. And Faramir smiled: To him, the fallen petal was like the last few months: death, terror, fear, doubt. Now, the tiny buds meant a new chapter for him. A new chapter to be spent with his family.
Family...
"Come here, Elboron," he said, picking up his son. "Shall we go see what your mother is up to?"
With one last look at the rosebush, Faramir went inside.
A/N: Once again, thanks for all the reviews. I think I might be on the verge of something new soon... Maybe one of my one-shots. Anyway, thanks again.