It has been over a year since I last updated. Thank you to everyone who stuck with me and waited patiently! Or not patiently, but anything that doesn't involve harassing me relentlessly counts as patient in my book. :) Hopefully you like this update, as I try to get back into the rhythm of the story. This is probably going to be a fairly short one. You have been warned...

Lucy hovered over Faramir's bed, gently brushing a lock of hair out of his eyes. She was unused to feeling so useless. Her cordial had never failed her before – but against this troubling darkness that afflicted so many from the battle, it seemed to do nothing. She could only pray it was having some sort of affect she could not see. It was also possible that if used before the symptoms of what the people were calling the Black Breath occurred, it would prevent them altogether. She simply didn't know.

Movement in the doorway brought her attention to her brother. He leaned against the doorjamb, bloody and bruised.

"Any change?"

Lucy shook her head. "I've been sitting with him whenever I find a moment. But there are so many wounded… I've never seen such a battle, Edmund."

"Me either. It's worse even than the attempt on Miraz's castle." He sighed, and dropped onto the bed beside Faramir. "I have to get back out there. I was just escorting a procession of wains. Gandalf sent me so he could stay with the battle. There aren't many who can stand against those dratted Nazgul."

"You're exhausted." She observed.

"No more than anyone else."

"Edmund. He will wake. Aslan would not bring us a brother only to snatch him away so quickly."

Edmund sighed and smiled at his sister, drawing her close to press a kiss against her forehead. He turned and stared down at the man he had carried into the citadel hours before, after the route at Osgiliath. Nothing had changed in his condition since he had been given into Lucy's care.

Denethor had tried to shut himself away with his son, but Edmund had not allowed it.

"You sent him out to die. I brought him back to you still alive, and now you would try to kill him again? No! I will take him to my sister. If you wish to sit with him, sit with him in the Houses. But speak none of your poison, or else stay away!" Edmund had shouted at the man.

In that moment, he was every inch Edmund the Just, King of Narnia – though none present knew of his title. Seeing his wrath, and wisely deciding that they feared him more than their own master, the guards allowed him to remove Faramir to Lucy's care.

Edmund leaned down over his friend and murmured, "I'm doing my best to keep your city intact, my brother. But it's hardly a one man job. You'd best stop lazing about and give me a hand."

Lucy smiled despite herself, hearing Edmund talk to Faramir the same way he would to Peter.

Edmund stood, touched her cheek and made his way out of the room.

"Edmund?"

He glanced back. "Lu?"

"Be safe."

His smile was lopsided, but genuine. "I'll do my best."

"Don't move." Jill hissed.

The not-quite-actually-there man stopped. "I'm not entirely certain whether that would have any effect on me at all, but I would much rather you point it somewhere else, Jill."

Jill gaped, but her aim stayed true. "How do you know my name?" She demanded.

Behind her, the hobbits stirred, waking.

"It was told me." The man replied calmly.

"By whom?"

"His name was Eustace." He said simply.

She immediately caught on to his use of past tense. "Was?!"

The man bowed his head. "I am sorry. I tried to save him, but could not even touch him in this form. He gave me a message for Jill."

But Jill wasn't listening. Her best friend, her brother in all but blood, was dead. She remembered something Peter had said once, recalling a comment he had made in Narnia during his single combat with Miraz.

"What happens back home," she whispered, "if you die here?"

The man didn't hear her.

Two pairs of arms wrapped around her waist, which made her aware of the fact that both hobbits were fully awake and listening. It reminded her that – however much she wanted to just sit down and sob – she had a job to do.

"The message then." She demanded. "And who exactly are you?"

"Faramir." Frodo said softly. "Jill, that's Faramir. He helped us before, In Ithilien. Edmund was with him."

Jill considered this information for a minute, and then slowly lowered her bow. "The message?"

"He said to tell you… He said he had known he would die, and it was well with him. And he said that you must forgive his cousin Susan."

"Susan? How is she mixed up in all of this?"

Faramir bowed his head, leaving Jill to wonder what he was keeping from her.

"Please!"

Reluctantly, he answered at last. "I do not understand all that I saw. I only know that a woman has been captured by evil, and is a woman no more. She was…present when he died."

"Aslan's mane." Jill whispered. "She killed him. She…she killed him, didn't she?"

"The thing that I saw had no mind of its own. Its thoughts and actions are not in its own control. It was the Eye that killed Eustace, not the lady Susan." He moved forward, reaching as though to touch her arm – but his hand passed right through her. He stopped with a soft noise of frustration.

"I was sent here by Illuvatar. He gave me water for you. Take comfort in this – ever he watches over you and yours. I know not his purpose for Eustace, but I must only trust him. And so you must as well."

He sighed, evidently aware that while his words were nice, they didn't really help much. "I am sorry for your loss, Lady Jill."

Before she could respond, he began to fade from her view. It seemed he realized that he was disappearing, because he once more reached out a hand.

"Frodo, Sam – " And then he was gone.

Jill dropped to her knees, shaking.

'I don't believe it." She whispered. "I can't believe it. Eustace!"

Frodo and Sam huddled close to her, trying to comfort her in any way they could as she finally broke and cried. Ten minutes later, however, Jill collected herself. She doled out a little water for each of them, and wrapped all three of them in their blankets. They laid together in a pile for warmth, and left no one on watch. Frodo and Sam were so exhausted as to not realize this detail, but Jill felt a soft familiar warmth in her heart urging her to rest. There would be time enough for danger later. For now, they were safe.