Immortalitui // Faramir 🥀

Chapter Fifty-One - The Final Stand

Word Count: 2,536 words. 

Warnings: None. 

They dressed for war in silence. Arathiel laid the chainmail over Faramir's tunic before fitting the metal chest plate. She checked his buckles, ensuring that nothing would cause it to fall.

Faramir did the same, tightening her armour as firmly as he could. Even the smallest gap would be her weakness, and he would not allow her one.

They could feel each other's fear when their eyes met; the utter devastation that they felt. It was not for events passed, but those that they knew were yet to transpire.

He kissed her; short, sweet but lasting.

"What was that for?" Arathiel asked.

"To remind myself what I am fighting for."

It had not been enough for her. Arathiel kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling Faramir as close to her as she could.

She should fear her death, her battle, the prospect of losing everything once Sauron was vanquished, but she did not. Arathiel feared, more than anything, of losing those she cared for. War was not kind to emotion.

"I will find you on the battlefield," Faramir promised. "Should we lose each other."

"You better."

She rode alongside Aragorn, Faramir at her back, Legolas and Gimli not far behind. They approached Mordor with their heads held high.

The closer they got, the heavier her armour felt. Her wound festered, and Sauron's maggots returned. She paid them mind, not fighting as often as she did. She allowed herself open, waiting for Sauron to speak.

"I saw Arwen," Aragorn told her as the armies of Gondor and Rohan stopped. "When I touched the Palantír. She was dying."

Arathiel faced him. "It may have been a lie."

"May," he breathed in repetition.

They watched Mordor. "If we do not win," she feigned a lack of faith in their forces, "it will not matter if she is dying now or then."

With a deep breath, the now King gave Arathiel the best smile that he could muster. "You have been one of my dearest friends, and I would not trade a second of our time together."

"Our time has been well spent," Arathiel replied with her own tired smile.

With a nod, their plan began and Aragorn moved his horse forward. Gandalf, Éomer, Gimli and Legolas followed – the elf and Dwarf pair upon the same stead. If only Thranduil could see this.

With a final look to Faramir, Arathiel moved with them. They approached the Gates of Mordor as a single force. Pippin rode at Gandalf's back and Merry at Éomer's.

Arathiel could feel it as they drew closer; his Eye had moved. Sauron's gaze was fixed up Mount Doom. It was fixed upon the Ring.

"Frodo," she breathed with a gentle smile. He was alive.

"Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth!" Aragorn called. "Let justice be done upon him!"

There was prolonged silence, a decision of Darkness made before the Gates cracked open. A herald left Mordor.

"My Master, Sauron the Great, bids thee welcome," it began, bearing its teeth to mimic a smile. They were yellow, elongated and covered in blood.

"Is there any in this rout with authority to treat with me?" it posed then.