Author's Note: Firstly—WOOHOO, TWO STORIES UPDATED IN ONE DAY!! :) Secondly, I apologize for this chapter being entirely in italics, but it was a necessary evil, as you shall see. (I just hope it doesn't totally kill your eyesight.) I hope you all enjoy this new chapter, and with any luck it will not be another year before you see another update! Haha. Thank you all for your loyalty, mellyn nin! - Minyasta

Chapter XI – Into Shadow

A maiden running down a tree-lined path… A white dress… Faramir raced after her, blood pounding in his ears. His hands were soaked crimson, and flowery veins of scarlet bloomed across his white tunic—the only reminders that he was, in fact, still alive. Agony wracked him from head to toe, and the bells, the tolling bells echoed ever more loudly in his mind. Was this even real? he asked himself wildly. Where was this dark forest in which he found himself, and how had he traveled so far from the Houses of Healing where he last had lain?

"Éowyn!" he cried out for the hundredth time, entreating her to slow her pace so that he might catch her. "Éowyn, come back to me! Please, hearken to my voice! Why do you run from me? Éowyn!" The memory of her from before the assassin's attack burned like a beacon of hope in his mind. How real she had been. How her lips had gently caressing his own still… For that one, fleeting moment, he had had her back again. Her skin had met with his in physical contact. To retrieve her from the world beyond the living, then, was not impossible. It could not be impossible. He had to get her back into his arms…

Faramir stumbled and staggered in his weariness, feeling his strength draining with every step he took. Determinedly, he pushed against the reserves of his fortitude, ignoring the warning alarms going off in his head. He could not fail now. He could not allow himself to collapse. He had to keep going! How far had he wandered? He glanced behind him, back down the path he had trod, and could see nothing but a single, twisting route stretching for leagues and leagues across land, forests, and mountains. At the very beginning of the long path, he could still see a brilliant speck of a light that glowed like one of the Silmarils of lore. Suddenly, without knowing how he became aware of it, Faramir realized that the light was his own body in the Houses of Healing of Minas Tirith. Looking down at himself, he saw that his very skin shimmered with a silvery iridescence, a pale mimicry of his true physical self. This was a journey for his spirit alone.

"Faramir…"

The Steward started, hearing a familiar voice calling his name from the path behind him.

"Faramir…"

It was the voice of the King. Faramir stared hypnotically at the pulsing light that shone from the Houses of Healing, suddenly filled with an intense desire to return to himself, to awaken and forget this horrible pain. The voice beckoning him was warm and welcoming… Like a shore light beckoning to lost ships at sea… He could not defy the will of his liege…

Faramir clenched his fists and shook his head hard to dispel the entrancement that had come over him.

"No," he mumbled firmly. "No. I will not turn back. Not this time." He glanced once more towards the light, hearing the voice calling his name again, this time more faintly. "I am sorry, Aragorn," he whispered. "I am sorry, mellon nin."

Pale and weak, Faramir raced on, his heart laboring to keep pace with his long stride. The only thing keeping him on his feet was the occasional fleeting glimpse of a maiden in white on the path ahead, just around the next corner, always just ahead of him. He would not lose her again!

Suddenly, Faramir was plunged into icy cold waters, and in his panic he gasped and inhaled a lungful of water. Pain shredded his chest and his mind, and he desperately clawed his way back to the surface, choking and drowning. At last he broke through the surface and heaved himself back onto the sandy shore, coughing up mouthfuls of salty water from his aching lungs. Wiping the water from his eyes, Faramir looked up to see a woman in a white dress disappearing into the mist out over the sea.

"Éowyn!" he called after her.

"Go back, Faramir!" said a voice echoing out of the mist. "You cannot follow me!"

Faramir leapt to his feet and dove into the pitching black waters, his muscles burning with pain as he swam desperately towards the sound of her voice. He could not let her disappear again! There was a way! There had to be a way!

As he swam on and on, he saw no more and heard no more of the white-clad maiden. A haze of exhaustion entered his mind, and his muscles locked and cramped before he had swum very far. It was too much for his fatigued spirit to handle. He simply could not keep up this kind of exertion in his weakened condition.

But he swam on, refusing to turn back. Slowly, his strength gave out, his endurance completely failing him. He gasped a final, ragged breath before he sank again beneath the cold waves, this time too drained of vitality to resurface. He could feel his heartbeat growing fainter and fainter, his mind blacking out from lack of air, his lungs shot though with pain. He surrendered to the ocean, and it dragged him down into its depths… Éowyn…

Well, well, what a strange sight is this, said a soft female voice in his ear. A Man of Endórë, so far from home! Why, what on earth are you doing? Swimming across Belegaer? That is strange indeed, very strange. I suppose I must help you. You are, after all, very brave for a Man.

Faramir felt himself being lifted up through the water, and when he broke the surface he swallowed great heaving gasps of air as fast as his lungs could take them in. He had resurfaced beside a small rock in the middle of the ocean, and he clambered up onto it as best he could and lay there shivering.

There, there, cooed the same voice, now beside him. Faramir looked up to see a beautiful young woman bobbing in the water next to him, her smile soft and caring. You are going to be fine now. But tell me, young lord, why are you swimming across the Great Sea?

"The Great Sea?" Faramir repeated, astonished. "Belegaer? How could I have wandered so far?"

Whence come you? asked the woman, cheerful and friendly.

"G-Gondor, my Lady," Faramir stammered.

Goodness! How very ridiculous of you! laughed the woman. Who would have thought! A lord of Gondor, here in Belegaer! Well, that is very strange!

"I-I must follow her," Faramir rasped painfully. "Have…Have you seen her?"

The woman cocked her head to one side curiously. Seen who?

"A young woman…dressed in white… I saw her pass over the waves, through the mist," said Faramir. "Please, can you tell me how to follow her?"

I am sorry, said the woman, but I do not know who you mean. I have seen no young woman dressed in white pass this way. Yet perhaps my spouse will know better than I…

As if on cue, a young man emerged from the chill waters beside the woman, his hair sleek and long, his raiment made of seaweed and barnacles.

Lord Faramir! cried the man, sounding delighted. What a surprise! To think that I should find you here, so far from Gondor!

Faramir paused in shock, still laboring to catch his breath. "Wh-Who are you?" he asked. "How do you know my…my name?"

The man and the woman laughed together, and it was a sound like peeling bells.

I, Faramir, am Ossë, the Maia of the Sea and chief servant of Ulmo. The man bowed his head reverently. My spouse is Uinen. I do not easily forget young men who find as great a thrill in the sea as you do. Though perhaps you have forgotten your youth, not too long ago, in Dol Amroth where your mother was born on the shore. How I would laugh when you fell into the water while you were out sailing with your uncle!

Faramir's eyes widened as he beheld the pair. "You…You cannot be…"

Aye, we are, said Uinen gently, sounding amused. See how surprised he is, Ossë, when we ourselves should be the more shocked for finding him attempting to swim across Belegaer in search of a young lady in white!

Is that so? asked Ossë, frowning.

"Yes," said Faramir shakily. "Please…do you know where I can find her? It is…it is the Lady Éowyn I seek."

Ah, said the Maia Ossë, his frown deepening. That is difficult indeed to answer. I know whither she has gone, but to send you there would be to send you into the Blessed Realm itself. That power I have not. Should the Valar find you there, you would be punished for it.

"I care not for what my punishment must be," said Faramir, his grief rising in unshed tears. "I no longer care for the world. Should I be forced to remain there forever, I should not care."

Ossë and Uinen exchanged a concerned glance, and Ossë at last looked back to Faramir. Very well, he said. I taught the art of shipbuilding to the Teleri, and now I will give this gift to you. At his words, a small craft arose from the depths of the sea and slid alongside Faramir's rock. Should my Lord Ulmo come upon you, give him my name, and he will allow you to pass. I give you my blessing, Lord Faramir, but I can make no promises as to the blessing of the Holy Ones. They will pass judgment as they see fit. May the stars shine upon you, and may we meet once again, should you return to Endórë.

Faramir watched in awe as the pair of Maiar breached gracefully, and he saw that their lower bodies were those of fish or some other aquatic creatures, with scales glittering in the low sunlight. With a splash, they were gone, and Faramir was left alone with the boat. He steadied the craft against the rock and climbed inside, and after only a few oar strokes a swift breeze filled the sail and propelled him westward towards the Blessed Realm. Faramir looked back, where the shores of Middle-Earth were still just barely in sight.

This was his last chance to go back. Ossë's words had unnerved him. The tale of Ëarendil returned to him—of how the mariner had sailed with his love to the Blessed Realm and had been forbidden from ever returning to Middle-Earth because he was a mortal. Instead, he had been fashioned into a star to light the night sky…

Faramir lay on his back in the boat, exhausted, and his eyes swallowed up the sight of the dome of constellations above him before they closed in pained sleep. The boat carried him deep into the mists, and the despairing voice of the King that still echoed over the waters carrying his name was lost.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

It was just past dawn when Faramir woke. His little boat had anchored itself on the shores of a sandy beach that passed up an incline into beautiful, emerald grass blooming with spring flowers and canopied trees. The sun, he was shocked to realize, had risen not behind him but in front of him, beyond the incline of the shore. He had landed not on the eastern shore but on the western shore of this strange land. How could that be?

Faramir stood, feeling the ache and the throbbing pain of his weariness hit him full-force again. He collapsed to his knees, gasping and clutching his bloodstained tunic. It felt as though the assassin's knife had been freshly thrust through his shoulder, tearing apart muscle and sinew. Steeling himself, he rose shakily to his feet once more and steadied himself against the side of the craft before stepping out onto the pebbled beach. He rested there beneath the overspread of a tree, too weak to attempt the incline directly. At last he managed to climb over the hill with strained effort, and what he saw then shocked him beyond words.

He was staring out over the vast, green expanse of Valinor. In the distance, he saw soaring mountains, the Pelóri of legend, and among them a gigantic peak, the summit of Taniquetil where stood the High Halls of the Lord of the Valar and Elbereth Gilthoniel. Beneath these peaks lay beautiful, flowing streams, enchanted woodlands and hillocks, rolling plains of brilliant perfection, orchards and lakes and fields. One great mound stood above them all—Ezellohar, the Mound of the Two Trees of ancient lore.

On a ridge near where he stood was settled a large stone castle, its grandeur and size surpassing even that of Minas Tirith. As his eyes passed over the sight, a flash of white caught the corner of his eye. He turned with a gasp to see Éowyn, his beautiful Éowyn, standing not two meters away from him.

"Oh, Eru," Éowyn murmured, tears streaking down her face. "Faramir… What have you done?"

"Éowyn," said Faramir breathlessly. "My Éowyn… Is it really you?"

"Faramir," she said, weeping, "you cannot be here!"

"But I am here." Faramir thought his heart would burst with joy. Her face…her beautiful face… It was finally to be his once more. "I have come for you, my Lady, my love, my darling Éowyn. I have found you at last!" Tears threatened to spill over in his own eyes, and he took a halting step forward.

"Oh, Éowyn…" he whispered. "How long have I waited for this moment…" He choked on his grief and his happiness all at once, swallowing a hot flood of tears. "Where have you been? Why did you not come to me? Oh, Eru, I have missed you so much…" He reached out to caress her cheek, but at the last second she jerked her head away and ran frantically across the grass towards the castle.

"Éowyn!" cried Faramir, stumbling after her. She did not slow, and Faramir pursued her to the gates of the castle where he stood beneath the teeth of its portcullis and gasped for breath. She had disappeared within. Faramir did not understand! Why did she run from him? Was she not happy to see him? Had she forgotten him so quickly while he was left to suffer with his grief? Why did the Valar punish him so?

"Go back, Faramir!" cried her voice from within. "You cannot be here! Go back now, while you can!"

Faramir hesitated, swaying on his feet, and plunged into the castle depths. Unbeknownst to him, the speck of light that lay at the beginning of his journey, marking the place where his physical being rested, suddenly dimmed, wavered, and flickered out.

mellon nin

(my friend)

Endórë

(Middle-Earth)

Belegaer

(the Great Sea)

Teleri

("Last-comers" or "Hindmost" – third host of Elves to journey west to Beleriand)