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Rhyselle's Library  by Rhyselle

Disclaimer: “The Lord of the Rings” and any familiar characters, places and descriptions are copyright to the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien and New Line Cinemas, and any other licensees, and no monetary reward has been taken for this work, which was written solely for the enjoyment of the author and the readers.


By Rhyselle

Faramir awoke from dreams quickly forgotten as the sun peered over the mountains to the east, the rosy golden light no longer having to struggle through the fume and fug of Mordor's making. He lay in the bed that still sometimes seemed too soft after so many years of sleeping rough along with his beloved, lost Rangers, and gazed out the window that he refused to mask by draperies; never again to waken in darkness. The jagged rims of the shattered land were limned with radiance, and fingers of light stretched out over his greening land of Ithilien beyond the Anduin. Beside him lay the light of his life, breathing softly, her hair mingling with his on the pillow she insisted on sharing with him, even though there were a good half dozen more scattered on the broad bed. He smiled as the shafts of dawn light gradually moved to catch the pale tresses and paint them glowing gold. Outside of the Citadel, the bells of morning were calling the city to waken and be about its business, but he would stay here, bathed in light and holding his beloved close, thankful that the shadowed times were finally, truly over.


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