Notes: Again, if you like it, please send a review or pm or something to let me know! Thanks to Sapphire Wolf Swordmaster, Sarasrati, taralkariel, and Faere for reviewing! distributes hugs all over

Sapphire Wolf Swordmaster: Sorry about the delay in updating. It's coming, it's coming.

Sarastari: Yes, this is movie-verse. But using book-verse time frame.

taralkariel: Eowyn is coming. Sorry if Faramir gets a little sappy, but I think he hardly cares at this point.

Faere: I'm glad you like the journal idea.

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18 March, 3019 of the 3rd Age
The Houses of Healing, Minas Tirith

They have told me what it was that they were keeping secret. Father is dead. The news of my father's death did not seem to affect me the way it should have. Everyone was afraid it would be too much for my frail condition. But when I found out, I took it quite well. Especially because I realized I would never have to be perfect for him anymore, and still never win his approval. I will never need to try to transform myself into a person that I cannot be, into the person my brother was. I feel somewhat freed from my father's hold now. It's not as though I do not mourn his passing, but it also feels as if a dark cloud has moved away from above me and the sun can once more shine on to my face.

But I suppose that has to do with something else as well.

Shortly after I was told the news, I took a walk on my own in the Houses. And I thought I saw a vision. She was more than beautiful. She was sad and proud and regal, and I have never seen anyone quite so lovely in all my life. I cannot truly describe her with pen and paper, for there is some essence about her that escapes my powers of description.

I thought she was a dream, or a delusion. But when I asked one of the healers, I was told that this creature was, in fact, real and solid. She was the Lady Eowyn of Rohan, who had ridden to war in the guise of a male Rider, and who had killed a Nazgul with the help of the halfling Meriadoc. I watched her look out the window to the east, as though searching for some part of her that was gone off that way with the Host of the West. I should have marched with them, but I was again told that I was not in fighting shape. The Lady Eowyn seemed to feel something similar, a desire to march with the host that could not be fulfilled. I watched her for quite a while without realizing how much time had passed by.

I do not completely understand why such a maiden would draw me to her, as she is so different from me. She lived a quiet life and wished for one with adventure, I have had one filled with adventure, and have wished often for more peace. She is an impetuous warrior, who would do anything in the fight and not fear death, while I have learned in my years of scouting Ithilien to be careful for more than my own sake. She battles ferociously, proudly, as a lone soldier who serves her lord and whose choices affect her alone, while I have borne the weight of the captain, with the fate of all my men in my hands.

And yet, I suppose we are not so different. She has battled against darkness in many forms throughout her whole life. She has lost family to it, and friends. She has lived for a time, hopeless because she was helpless to stop the evil and pain. They say her lord has but lately been renewed by Mithrandir. Before that, she had to serve a failing king who all but forgot who she was, a king she regarded as a father. And I have heard, but also I feel, she loves someone who does not love her. We are similar in many ways.

But now, we have both been drawn back from the darkness. Perhaps only to step headlong into it in these last days, but for now, we are in the light, and I am glad of it. If we must all die tomorrow, at least I have seen the Lady Eowyn, and she has made my entire life worth that moment. Though, I believe if the darkness really descends, when I see him after death, Boromir will reprimand me if I do not fight, which is why I am trying to return to my usual health as soon as I can. Father would blame me for the darkness, but Boromir would simply be sad that this beautiful land is dark. Boromir would want me to have fought to the very last. He would have, and did.

After Lady Eowyn returned to her chambers, I returned here to write of her. She has brought me healing merely by her presence.

And so, my father's death is sad, indeed, but not depressing. His impossible expectations are forever gone, and I suddenly feel light, as if I could dare to do anything. Even approach such an unimaginably magnificent maiden as the one I saw in the Houses this morning.