"Mattias," Faramir uttered as he looked into the face of the Romany leader kneeling beside him.

The sandy-haired man's eyes widened as he glanced up, taking in something unseen to Faramir. The Itihilien Prince began to rise, determined so long as he was not held down he would continue to run. But he got no farther than his knees when he heard a rustle behind him. He began to turn just as Mattias cried out, "Curtik, no!" and a harsh object plowed into his head. Dizzying forces blinded him, then quickly the world rolled around in a disturbing whirl as Faramir drifted away and felt no more for the moment. Nothing came to him but a numbing void.

****

"Kattica, awake!"

Dull, aching, heaviness.

"Kattica, please! You must awake!"

She could not move. Unshakable sluggishness fell over her body. Exhaustion sealed her eyelids, and there was nothing she longed for more than this heavy sleep.

"Awake, awake! You are in peril! Push the languor from your eyes! Awake!"

She felt her brow crease with these words. Peril? Peril? Yet that seemed so very far away. Thoughts. Words. Surely they did not pertain to her? She wanted to live merely in dreams.

"Kattica, for the love of your child, awake. You put yourself and our baby in great danger by staying."

Our baby? Mattias? What danger? Not my child! And with these thoughts Kattica's mind stirred. She realized as vague awareness fell over her body that she was being held, roughly at that, and strong hands were pulling her upright, shaking her lightly to rouse. Her eyes came open with the next pull forward, but they were without direction, blind, rolling in her head as her skull lolled back.

"Kattica!" A hand slapped her cheeks. "Kattica!"

Her mouth scowled at the assault upon her face and her fingers came up to block the touch of the broader, callused hand. "Stop!" she slurred, attempting again to open her eyes. Her vision focused and unfocused, but it steadied with concentration. At last it came to her who was before her. "Mattias?" she sighed. "My love . . ." and then she felt herself relinquish her grip on reality, trusting him to protect her as a soft smile pressed her lips.

"Enough! You must wake! NOW!"

With a jerk she felt herself hauled upright into a full seated position, and a pungent smell was dragged under her nose. She twisted her head away, but the one forcing it upon her would not ease the assault to her nostrils. She coughed and gagged, trying to push the hands away. The sharp odor penetrated her skull, and her eyes grew teary as the accosting vapors reached them. Rhûn Mineral! "Ah . . . no! Vile!" she sputtered, for the scent was acrid, but it also was potent enough to waken the unconscious soul. She knew this cure from her practice. Comprehension began to clear her mind. She opened her eyes and firmly pushed away from the offender. "Cease! I I awaken!" she coughed.

Mercy was granted her, and the jar containing the substance was sealed again.

The world was spinning and haphazard and she moved her hands to her side to steady herself and prop herself up. Where was she? Her tent? She remembered naught. It was day. What was she doing within the confines of their tent? Had she been ill? She felt inexplicably fatigued, her torpor reaching every inch of her physical being and extending into her soul. If only she could sleep, but she knew that would not be allowed. Something stirred that required her attention. Was someone else ill?

Slowly her haze faded and she came to realize more her surroundings. Mattias! She thought, recalling now their conversation and earlier reunification, and her eyes came up again to meet his. Her head pounded a throbbing timbre within her skull and severe nausea roiled her insides. She felt weak, her muscles shaking from the exertion of just sitting upright, and she felt uncertain she could stay conscious long, let alone offer aid, if that was what was required of her. "What has happened?" she blearily asked.

"Much, I fear," he answered. "Do you recall your encounter with Bregus?"

Kattica blinked at the mystery of his words. But then, like a blinding light, the memory of that evil returned. And with it her illness grew stronger. She swooned.

Strong arms gripped her shoulders and in the back of her mind she heard the sound of the jar reopening. A part of her warned of its coming, so when the pungent substance appeared again to her olfactory senses, she was more easily alerted and awakened. "Oh, Mattias," she cried in a whimpering voice, "I recall such madness!"

"Aye, 'tis true!" he admitted, "But no time is there now to lament this. She has parted for the moment, but I fear she will return before we would wish. You must flee while you can. Hurry!"

He tried to push her forward out of the tent, but her body was limp, bare strength was gone from her. Her limbs barely responded to her call to them, such heavy lethargy weighing them down. She felt them fully, and they ached as if every muscle had been beaten and tugged and sapped of everything that might give it obedience and haste. She prodded herself to move, yet her body simply could not obey. "Alas Mattias, no. This . . . will not work. My body . . . it fails me. I cannot move. I feel as if . . . all of my strength has been . . . drained."

"Did she do something to inflict this upon you?" he asked, giving her a moment to catch her breath. They had not even made it to the tent flap and she was already wearied to the point of collapse.

Her head rolled forward and she closed her eyes, willing the agony of this listlessness to pass. She swallowed as flashes of memory passed through her head, with the parting words of the witch echoing faintly there. If I shan't know your mind, I shall take your strength. And she had. She had. Somehow the old woman had stolen all Kattica's energy. She remembered the fight of wills with the old woman as she had tried to pierce Kattica's thoughts just before the final assault. "I . . . have no doubt," she answered tiredly, certain that exactly such a thing had happened. "I have no strength. . . I cannot flee on my own," she said with a small sigh, weakness again coming over her and pushing her mind to a hazy place.

She missed Mattias' expression as her head was bowed, but she heard his words. They were despairing and they encouraged her to regain her focus. "I don't know how I shall carry you both then. . ." His voice trailed off in thought.

"Carry who?" she asked. Her voice sounded small.

"Both you and Anborn."

She blinked, trying to grope this slippery thought. Her brow creased and she knew she was missing something. Had she been well, she might have comprehended sooner, but as she was not, and her mind was sliding in and out of the grasp of anything resembling reality, she had to ponder his words. She shook her head. "I think . . . there is more I should know."

Mattias sighed, and she could see his patience was waning. Vaguely she thought that there must be much danger if his normally calm façade was feeling pressured into rash actions. He shook his head briefly, as if chastising both himself and her in the same thought,. Then he swept ahead, his movements swift, and then he slowed to deliberate action. Delicately he pulled back the tent flap, observing from a distance so his face stayed in shadow to see if any neared. After that he let it drop and sat back on his heels, his face for a moment locked in thought as to their next movements. Looking back at her, he finally said, "I freed the Elf."

Kattica gasped, suddenly feeling much more alert. "Legolas? You freed him?"

He crawled forward before her. "Aye, I did, and both he and his friend nearly had made their escape when Curtik interfered. I thought I had diverted the men. The Elf sent them off on a chase as he darted into the trees, and I thought he might find safety there. I did not notice that Curtik went in the opposite direction and chased the Man. I caught up to them too late. Curtik succeeded in recapturing Anborn."

"No," Kattica sadly whispered.

"It grows worse. It seems somehow Mother affected him. With her potion. He awakens, but really he does not. His mind is lost. I cannot reach him."

Kattica gave a minute nod, remembering well the mysterious paths she had followed into Bregus' mind. "It is tabib hsear the shaman drug. It . . it was not meant for the purpose in which . . . she applies it. He walks on roads in his mind . . . not outwardly seen."

"That I know," Mattias conferred. "Will it last long?"

"Nay, 'tis a swift agent. He should be right again . . in a few hours," she answered finding herself drifting away despite the fear in her mind.

He shook his head and muttered, "No good, no good. Surely she will have returned by then, for I expect at any moment she will swoop down on us." In his paranoia, he again sought out the flap, staring out with piercing eyes hidden in shadow. The admittance of light pushed her eyes open again.

"Where has she gone?" Kattica asked, a thought dawning on her wearied mind.

"She follows the others in pursuit of the Elf. All are gone, save a few women and the children . . . and Curtik," he said, pausing, "And Anborn. The women are harmless, barely cognitive of anything occurring. And the children are fearful, but removed enough that they do not fully comprehend. That leaves Curtik. It was my intent to either send him to the others as an opening to escape, or to battle him in order to obtain for your freedom. In the end, if I had succeeded, I was prepared to carry the stranger. I was not prepared to carry you both," he said, shaking his head.

"Perhaps . . you need not . There is . . . another way," she said, the faintest of smiles reaching her lips.

"What need do you have?" Mattias asked.

"Can you bring me to him?" she asked, dull eyes looking into his though the slight grin remained.

Mattias smiled too, raising an eyebrow. "I can," he answered.

****

Faramir was unsure when he had awoken, for the living world was not like anything he could recall. In physical nature it was much the same, but at equal measure it was completely different. Strange and unfamiliar and simultaneously much the same. There was one fundamental change. It was enhanced somehow.

He had looked all about, his eyes glassy and wildly dilated, but he could not know these effects on his being. What he did know was how disturbing and odd and incredibly beautiful everything about him was. Every sense, every feeling came at him at such keen magnitude that he wondered how he could ever not see the world as he saw it now. All color was magnificently intense. All detail was painfully apparent. All sound was musical and alive. And all breath, feeling, taste, was bizarrely full and enriching. He felt euphoric in his exploration of the world, and at the same time he was tremendously frightened by the foreignness of it. He could not decide which feeling was more dominant, and so he decided not to feel at all and to simply respond as needed. So liberating and exultant it was. He was free. In his mind he was free.

Sound was the first thing that had come to him, and he listened with sharp ears. He could hear the birds chirp. It was not the loose flutter of noise that blurred together in his normal state of mind, but the sounds, the individual sounds, of the bird voices. It was breathtaking to analyze, for her realized as he listened he could pick apart song for song of the avian creatures who trebled them out, and he located their sources among the branches overhead. It was almost as if they had voices. It was almost as if they were speaking to him.

A rustle of wind broke his concentration and carried his mind to a new place. No, not so much new as simply unexplored. It was sound still that he followed, but the birds were no longer part of it, dropping off as his concentration changed course. Familiar and yet not, he let his thoughts wonder. He could hear it, and he could not, and for a moment he grappled with that incongruity. But the sound was more powerful than his wavering mind, and again he was pulled into it. It was all around him, singing from high above. As though within a cathedral the ethereal sound resonated, and the noise conveyed mood and subtle thought. It took a moment more for him to realize what it was he heard, but when he did he laughed uproariously. The trees, he thought to himself. I hear the trees.

Upon realization, he knew he could listen to their songs for hours. How lovely, how tranquil, and yet they were speaking out, as if in warning, as if in fear. Faramir frowned at this, wondering if his interpretation was wrong. Beautiful yet marred. He could recognize their rightful potential and felt saddened that it did not fully reach them. Evil had befallen this place. The trees had needed to heal from this harm. And slowly, he knew they were, for he could perceive their improvement. It was not only visible, but he could feel it at his core. The trees were happier now, though much was still to be done. Faramir understood now the Elves desire to stay in Middle-earth. They were helping. They were restoring the trees and the landscape. They were repairing the Valar's gardens. A noble cause all, was it not?

Something flashed in the corner of his eye, and his head shot around to catch sight of it. A creature of marvelous proportion ventured into Faramir's eyesight and the Prince gasped with intrigue. It appeared as if out of nowhere, and Faramir was uncertain if it was his mind that had set it there, or if the beast had wandered into his vision of its own accord. Antlered and majestic, the animal stood, gazing and lingering, striking a pose before him as if waiting for Faramir to absorb its regal beauty. A great headdress of mighty horn crowned the fair head, and its body was hewn of strong muscle and sinew, poetically carved, molded from the beauty of all wilderness. Its eyes were a richness all unto themselves. Pools deep, mesmerizing, innocent and wise. It was the stare of the animal that penetrated Faramir's mind and the man found himself willingly falling into them.

It stood far off in the forest, and though Faramir knew on some level that his hands and feet were bound, it did not restrict him. He could move forward with his mind, cutting off the distance between himself and the buck. He could observe it as no man ever could. He traveled a radius around the beast, digesting every nuance of its grace. The animal took it all in, pausing to allow the man this visual feast, as if it appreciated and expected Faramir's awe. But it too regarded Faramir and seemed inspired and in wonderment for the Prince's own prowess.

Faramir ducked his eyes. He felt humbled by the stag. By looking directly onto the creature, a new appreciation came over him as if he had somehow met his match. Or, better than that, something superior to him. A short wave of jealousy rippled through him and Faramir had to consider that. How could something so natural and intrinsically just cause such feelings within him? It was the complete innocence of the animal, he concluded, that and its innate sense of being. Like the bird that does not question its ability to fly, like a tree that does not wonder at the wind, this creature too seemed to accept the very nature of its existence. There was no doubt in the animal's soul for its place in this world. There was no rivalry. It simply was and it was contented at that. So easily the stag fell into this,. So peaceful was its acceptance.

Yet for how small Faramir felt before the deer, he saw that the animal envied him as well. But why?

The deer stepped forward and its eyes looked into Faramir's, penetrating the Prince's soul. Faramir brought forth a tentative hand and touched the coarse coat, expecting the animal to bristle at the contact. But the stag seemed calmed, comforted by his touch, and Faramir relaxed as the animal's tranquility passed into him. He saw through the buck's gaze another view on the world. Blinking in surprise, he saw himself. Amusement ran through the eyes of his mirrored vision, and he watched himself laugh at the counter play, as if Faramir's body was there facing him while his mind had found the comfort of another home.

Someone else entered the scene. The buck blinked and came back to itself, turning its head to face the new arrival and Faramir followed the animal's eyes. With tremendous serenity Faramir gazed at the countenance of Eowyn, surprised that she should be there, but then again not. He admired her beauty, which radiated out from her frame, and even with age he felt his eyes caught up in her visage. She was lovely.

A flitter at her skirts sent his eyes moving down, and he realized that sitting at her feet was the sunny smile of a small child. A little girl, dressed in a charming floral weave of summer blossoms, with hair of honey color and eyes dancing green. A chubby fist made its way to her mouth and lit up a smile as his eyes met hers. Then a thumb plugged the hole, though her face maintained the grin.

Eowyn laughed quietly at the girl, and singing a loving tune, she picked up the child and walked away. Long lashes and sparkling eyes peered over the slight form of his wife's shoulder. Ringlets of gold meshed into the glorious weave of Eowyn's tresses. The baby watched him as they parted, and instinctively Faramir made to follow.

"Faramir!" a voice called him, and he was startled, turning around to face it. The face that was his own met him, but now there was something different about it. An evil spread over the features, and Faramir paused to wonder. The other, his twin, drew a lopsided grin, then laughed. Taking his bow from where it was slung across his shoulder, he pulled an arrow from his quiver. Notching the shaft, his counterpart slowly made the weapon ready, raising the bow, and drawing back the string. It was aimed directly at Faramir.

"And now I shall take you for my prize!" his counterpart said.

Confused and surprised, Faramir quickly looked to the direction to which Eowyn and the child had gone, but they were had disappeared. He searched then for the buck. Again, gone. Then looking back at the shooter, he realized the features on that opposite face had changed. No longer was it his own face he saw. Though similar, there were differences. A slighter curve to the jaw, a sharper peak to the cheek bones, a wider set to the eyes. This was not himself to which he looked. This was a stranger!

If he had the power to gasp he surely would have. But that skill escaped him with this guise, and all he could do was blink and stare. Terror ran through him. He was about to die, shot dead by a stranger, and for no reason could he discern it.

Then a change came over the scene. A small shadow was beside him, and cool, gentle hands touched his face. He was comforted and soothed in the recognizable female caress, and he could not help but draw his eyes to her face, though his thoughts did not discount the danger of the strange man. Kattica's smile met his, though it was meager in its wholeness. Tired eyes looked upon his, and deep shadows ringed them, but a kindness permeated her being and set her off in fine contrast to the monster he had been facing.

She spoke. "I can help you if you will have it . . . I can see you are troubled by stray dreams. I would set your course right, . . . but only with your consent."

"How?" he asked, his eyes glancing sidelong to the stranger. A horrid grin lit the face of that man. He was laughing at Faramir and new tenuous feeling washed through the Prince. Rancor drew even with the present fear but it did not override it. He was lost in a world he did not understand, and somehow this man was out to destroy his exit.

Kattica pulled his face away. He was forced only to look into her eyes, and he found that strangely assuring. He had not learned to trust her. She had committed horrible sins. Yet somehow, he found peace in her, a kindness he had not seen before. He watched her carefully as she answered, "I would do this through my powers as a witch . . . I would enter, but not unless you tell me I may. But be wary before you answer, for there is a price. I would take from you some strength, for mine has been nearly depleted. We must run, you and I, but neither may do this in our current states. Your mind will not focus, and my body has no will, but together we may function. Will you trust me to help you?"

Faramir paused to consider this. He had no reason to believe her and yet he did. Somehow through her touch he felt his thoughts come back to normal, and he realized that despite the beauty, he could not function in this state. In it, his thoughts were disordered and blind. It frightened him, especially if there was danger, which he certainly perceived at her touch. They would need to depart quickly. He did not need long to think. With a slurring whisper he answered, "Please . . . do it."

****

It took only a moment for her to set his mind right. It took only a moment for her to feel renewed. They took from each other and it was a mutually beneficial alliance. With it, she was able to see his thoughts and make him focus them straight, giving him back some coherence. And with it, he was able to discern exactly all she knew. She had not put up road blocks to halt him, and he had allowed her unguarded admittance. In payment, he gave her some of his physical strength. Though she refused to take much, it was enough to allow her flight. And through it all, it took only a moment for them to learn to trust.

But greater still was the power of it. Like the sensation of the dark arts, this too was something she had never felt. She cursed herself for not deducing it earlier, for had she, she might not have fallen so easily into Bregus' whims. The white magic . . . the sensation . . . it too was warming and wondrous, though she had to concede it was not as great as what she had felt in the dark. Still there was comfort in it, especially knowing that it had been brought on with permission to do so. That she did not know this feeling could be found was telling of how poor her education as a tribal witch had been. She would have known, had she been shown this. But Bregus would not have given her ample opportunity to learn of the benefits her magic could bring to herself, nor others, and Kattica had come to realize upon examining Bregus' soul why the elder had not disclosed it. Bregus' soul had fallen to the side of black magic. The old woman's appetite was insatiable, so it was certainly obvious that the woman would choose what gave greater sensation. Yet Kattica was not so certain she would have chosen such a thing for herself. In fact, she knew she would not. There was liberation in knowing a choice was available, and her previous disdain for the dark arts felt justified in that there were other opportunities from which to decide.

Kattica looked up as she released her spell. Her stooped shoulders were now righted, and her eyes appeared bright. As she came back to reality something stirred in her soul. She realized what it was. Call it remnants of the darker spell, it mattered not. She could sense a terror coming their way. "She is returning," Kattica whispered.

"We must hurry then," Mattias said, glancing over his shoulder. "Anborn, do you feel well enough to rise?"

The man looked groggily about, rubbing his wrists where they had been freed, but not answering the question asked of him.

"Faramir?" Kattica softly called as she placed a gentle hand to his shoulder.

Green eyes reached up and smiled lightly in response. "I am well," he said.

"Faramir? Why do you call him Faramir?" Mattias asked Kattica.

Kattica smiled again at Faramir and answered, not taking her eyes from his as if she shared a secret with him. "It is his true name, it seems." Speaking directly to Faramir she said, "It was a wise decision you made to conceal it. But we can discuss it no further at this time. The danger is growing and we must flee now. There are many lives at stake, and if she catches you catches Legolas then our doom may well be met."

"Eowyn " he interjected.

"She too is in danger. These woods are too small to contain all of Bregus' evil. Let us make haste before they choke off our ability to escape her grasp," Kattica urged as she pushed herself up with Mattias' help. She wobbled slightly on her feet as Mattias then offered a hand to Faramir. The man stood without aid, but nodded his appreciation as he tested his tightened muscles and shook his head as if to free from a dreamy state.

Mattias turned them both in the direction of the river then looked back to the camp. His eyes went wide in fear, and he pushed them behind the wagon in the next instant. "Faramir, give me your vest," he demanded. Responding to the questioning look in the other's eyes he said, "There is not time to discuss this, just do it! I think I may be able to grant you some time before your absence is discovered."

Kattica read him, knowing the valor of her husband. She felt compelled to stop him in what she suspected he might do. "Mattias, no! It is too dangerous! Come with us now! We will outrun them," Kattica said as Faramir shed his garment, eyeing the two with a distant look but not speaking.

Mattias shook his head. "She trusts me still, and she will not suspect such a deception from me," he argued. "You are still weak, and he," he said nodding to Faramir, "does not appear fully recovered yet."

"All the more reason for you to come with us. We need you," Kattica pleaded.

But Mattias was resolute. "She has returned alone. I can deceive her in this, and if not, overpower her."

"And Curtik? Have you forgotten him? You underestimate her talents, Mattias. She is a great deceiver herself. You do not realize her plans for you," Kattica returned, suddenly regretting that she had not told him of his mother's incestuous desires.

Mattias was frantic, donning Faramir's garb as he looked around the corner of the wagon. He quickly drew back. "She is coming! Please Kattica, go now! We shall all feel her wrath if I do not do this. I know what she wants of me, and believe me, I have no desire to stay for it. I will flee when she least expects it. For now, allow her focus to remain on finding Legolas. Leave!" He fixed a beseeching plea upon her, and she understood. With regret, she nodded. Backing away she watched him as he took his position near the tree that had held Faramir. He smiled his assurance, and then he looked away. With nothing more to hold them, she took Faramir by the hand and swiftly she pulled him into the woods, away from the camp and out of Bregus' grasp.