THIS FIC IS NOT DEAD! I haven't had any time to work on it, though this summer will bring me an insane amount of time. I've got about half of the second chapter written and some of the third done, so here's a little snippet until then, as those of you who have favourited this fic have been hanging for over a year and a half...

Keep an eye out for updates. I swear that you'll have a longer one soon.

Women saw the bleeding faces of their fathers, brothers, and sons. Children old enough to understand could barely grasp the horrors they had seen and the tears that had been shed over their fathers’ mangled corpses, and every last person in Arda was powerless to stop it. It seemed to those who lived to see such times that it took only one day to destroy the hopes it had taken a lifetime to develop. And it must be understood that the things people did in those times were not done out of malice, but out of despair, as Éowyn had to find out for herself in the moment her love led her to lose all hope in life. But of that, nothing shall be said now.

If there is one tale that will cut into your soul and mark you until death, it is this one. But there were none who dared to remember it, and none now live to tell it, but a memory lingered through the ages in a world covered by shadow. A thousand years have passed, and their bodies lie side by side on a rocky hill in the gloomy confines of Mordor. Faramir and the Lady Éowyn, buried by an unspeakable evil that knew not of the love that lasted even in the face of death, could not save themselves, and no person in the last age cared to remember it…