An Acceptance

Pippin ran through the streets as fast as his Hobbit-feet could carry him.

He had heard Raina’s desperate cry for help before she was surrounded by the guards. He knew that she would fight for as long as she could, but eventually she would be overtaken, and he feared he would be too late for her, his hope fading the longer it took to find the Wizard.

But I can save Faramir. That was her goal in the first place, Pippin thought to himself, forcing himself to see the one good thing in this suicide mission.

He had estimated that Raina would last five minutes against the guards, but he wasn’t so sure anymore. The Raina he had seen earlier – the one who could kill an orc without a thought; the one who had seen battle, blood, and death; the one who he barely recognized any longer- maybe she could make it out. He held onto that thought as he stumbled upon Mithrandir.

“Gandalf!” he cried. The Wizard turned immediately to face the Hobbit. Perhaps it had been the hopelessness seeping into his voice that did it.

“Denethor… burning Faramir… alive… Raina… captured…”

Gandalf realized exactly what the Took was trying to say, and with that, they started sprinting all the way back up to the Hall.

**

Raina was sitting up in the drenched stack of wood, her eyes glued to the oaken doors. She had not forgotten her small hope that Pippin would come bursting in, but even if he did, what could he do? If Raina could not last against these guards, Pippin would just get himself killed as well. So, in truth, Raina wished that Pippin would stay as far away from the place as he could.

She looked down at Faramir. She could now hear his breath- somewhat even- gasping through the oil coating his lips, as well as the rest of his body. Raina was covered as well, and Denethor and the wood too. It dripped into her eyelashes, but she could not wipe it away because of her bound hands. The guards seemed to have taken some pity on her, and tied them in front of her so she was not uncomfortable, and loosely so it did not cut off her circulation.

She blinked the oil away from her eyes so she could see his face clearly, and a few tears fell. She took his cold hand in hers, whispering to him, too softy for anyone else to hear as Denethor recited burial ceremony lines.

“It’s okay, really,” she breathed, lying down on the wood, and resting her head on his chest, which rose and fell softly. “I don’t mind dying. I figured I would in this war. I just wished I had died valiantly, in battle or something. Perhaps sacrificing myself too save a friend. If only you could wake up…”

Raina’s head jerked up as she heard something outside, but it was just from the battle.

“There’s a lot of things I wish I could have seen- to have done. I wish I could have seen Frodo once more, after this was all over, after his burden would be lifted, and happy once more. It has been far too long since I have seen him happy and carefree, like he used to be; like we used to be!”

“Also I wish I could have seen that wrenched Ring destroyed, and this war resolved with gurth 'ni yrch! Oh… sorry. Native language and whatnot. I meant with death to Mordor! But I suppose you would have wished to have seen that too, wouldn’t you? I bet you can hear me now, can’t you? But you just can’t wake up. That’s no fun. Then I suppose you would want to know that your father,” (she spat the word like it was poison in her mouth) “is going to burn us all alive. Even himself. No offense, but he is insane.”

“And I wish I could have seen Aragorn become king… no offense. He’s become like an older brother to me, Legolas and Gimli as well. I wish I could have said a better goodbye to them than I had, but they knew plenty well that that might have been it for the four of us. That our Fellowship could have been broken once more, forever.”

“And oh, I wanted to be part of that last battle for Middle Earth. The one where we would take over Mordor, and get to see the withering expressions of those whom dwell there. To have been part of something that big, wow, that would have been… incredible. To know that you are fighting for the greater good of Middle Earth, and for a better place for those who were to come after you- that would be worth going through this mess!”

“Which takes me to… well, us. I know something could have happened. And it would have been great, I know it. I love you, Faramir. Don’t ask me how, seeing as I barely know you, but I just do. And I really wish that could have happened.”

Just then, Denethor had stopped murmuring, and had turned to face them. Raina looked up at him, fear etched on her face as he brought the torch over to the table.

Her breathing increased slightly, but otherwise, she faced her death bravely.

Raina tore her gaze from the madman, and looked down at Faramir once more.

“Please, Faramir,” her whisper was increasingly desperate as she continued. “Please… save yourself! Just wake up!”

She didn’t realize it, but when Denethor lit the fire, her pleas became audible.

“Please! Faramir, just wake up! Save yourself!”

And then the fire reached her. It was all around her, but not quite setting her on fire yet. It licked her skin, leaving burns where ever it touched, and caused her to jump in pain each time it did. Her eyes watered and the smoke was starting to get to her head.

“Please! Faramir!” she screamed before choking on smoke and starting to feel lightheaded. She squinted through the flames as she heard a foreign sound from out-there before blinking her eyes shut, and then collapsing on the fire.