Chapter 1 – Fathers and Sons

Éowyn looked exhausted. Her head bobbed, and she seemed unaware of Faramir's presence in the room. To the tip of her breast clung a little mouth, stilled in sleep. Faramir quietly approached and took the sleeping baby from Éowyn, who smiled weakly and promptly slid down the pile of pillows until she was flat on the bed and gratefully asleep. Faramir cradled his son gently in his arms and made his way down to the back veranda where he sat in the shade and hoped for a cool breeze. Maida, Éowyn's maid, fluttered around him for a moment, trying to relieve him of his blessed burden, but he waved her away and enjoyed the baby's warmth in his lap, in spite of the summer heat that was beginning to press in on the house in the hills of Emyn Arnen.

A bird called out three times from the eave of the house and Elboron's little eyelids fluttered open. He blinked at the bright blue sky, sighed deeply, and fell back into sleep. Faramir smiled at him without ceasing until something else stirred the baby from sleep and at last his eyes came to focus on his father's face and he returned Faramir's smile.

"Good morning, little one," Faramir cooed. "it is a fine summer morning, my son. Shall we take a walk?"

Elboron flapped his arms indicating his desire to be picked up, and Faramir held him braced against one shoulder as he walked down the sloping lawn toward the creek. With his free hand, he shaded Elboron's face from the sun until they reached the shade of the woods. Faramir sat on a log and shed his boots, rolling up his trousers one-handed. He said, "aah!" as he submerged his feet in the cool water and the loud noise caused Elboron to look at him in surprise.

"What?" Faramir asked. "Do you want to play in the water, too?"

Faramir laid the baby on his forearm, gripping his shoulders with the other hand, and held him suspended above the shallow stream so that he could splash at it with his hands. He did this in spite of the fact that he would get scolded by the women of his household should they espy him. According to their Rohirric wisdom, even on a hot summer day, any exposure to cold would surely cause the poor child to be stricken with a grave illness.

"But no," he told Elboron, "Ada knows that a little cool water isn't going to hurt anyone. That's right," he replied to Elboron's gurgling, "Ada knows what he's doing."

"Prince Faramir?" Faramir's page called from up on the lawn.

"I am down by the stream, Angril," Faramir answered, hastily drying the baby off with his shirt. He doubted Angril would scold him, but still…

"My Lord," the boy said, bowing quickly, "a message has come from The City. Mithrandir has arrived and King Elessar calls you to attend them in due haste."

Faramir raised his eyebrows. "Thank you Angril. Please fetch Goldoron from the stables and make him ready, and ask Maida to pack a bag for me in case I have to spend a day or two in The City."

"Yes, my Lord." Angril ran off.

Faramir held his son so that they were looking eye-to-eye. "I wish you could come with me and meet my old friend Mithrandir. Maybe he can come here to see you later."

Elboron flailed his arms and squealed.

"Yes, I thought that would please you. Now, back to the house with you. Ada has to go visit the King."

Faramir did not want to disturb Éowyn's sleep, but he had to say goodbye to her, since he did not know what this meeting was about or how long he would be gone. He frowned slightly as he climbed the stairs, thinking that if it were a matter of little import, Aragorn and Gandalf might well have just come out for the day to Emyn Arnen instead of calling for him.

Éowyn stirred the moment she sensed Elboron's presence in the room. "Oh, what a lovely sleep," she sighed, opening her arms to receive the baby.

Faramir sat next to her on the bed and kissed her forehead. "I have to leave, my sleeping beauty."

Éowyn frowned.

"Mithrandir has come to Minas Tirith and I have been sent for."

"Why? For how long?"

Faramir smoothed her hair. "I know not. Tomorrow I will send word or come myself, if I can."

Éowyn grabbed his hand and kissed it. "Go well, my love."

Faramir smiled and kissed her softly on the lips. "I am sorry…"

Éowyn placed a finger over his mouth. "Go," she said.

Faramir collected the bag that Maida had packed and went to the gate where his horse awaited him. He rode down to the river crossing and ferried across with Goldoron, distracting the horse with an apple during the transit. He then gave the horse free rein once they were inside the wall and they made across the Pelennor in good time, arriving at The City not long after midday. Faramir smiled and greeted familiar faces on his walk up to the Citadel, noting which shops were thriving, which houses had yet to be rebuilt, how many beggars were enduring the summer sun for a token or a bit of bread. He was stopped several times by officers inquiring after the health of his wife and son, but eventually, and not before he was thoroughly famished, he arrived at the Citadel.

"Where are the King and the White Wizard?" he asked the guard.

"In the King's private study. They are expecting you."

Faramir nodded. "Please have some food sent up to me there."

"What would you like, my Lord?"

"It does not matter. Whatever is handy in the kitchen."

Faramir walked down the hallway that led to the private quarters of the royal family, stopping on the way to leave his bag in the set of rooms that he and Éowyn now used when they were at court. After the births of Elboron and the King's son, Eldarion, Arwen had Faramir's quarters moved into their private wing. The location had several advantages, not least of which was that Eldarion's nurse could attend both infants during the night and let Elboron's parents take their rest.

Faramir passed Valacar, the King's secretary, who gave him a formal nod and opened the door to the King's study. Aragorn and Gandalf were seated on the balcony, and they rose and moved inside the room to greet Faramir.

Faramir embraced the King, who kissed him on the cheek and squeezed his arm affectionately. Faramir smiled at him warmly before turning to embrace Gandalf. The three of them then adjourned to the balcony, where a light breeze made the oppressive heat almost bearable.

"I hear congratulations are in order," Gandalf began. "I have already seen the heir to the King, a fine, squally little bundle of flesh called Eldarion. What have you named yours?"

Faramir smiled, "he is called Elboron, and he is not at all squally. Placid as the Anduin is my little one."

Aragorn nodded, "'tis true. How an Elf produced a hellion and they slayer of the Witch-king produced a sage, I shall never understand."

"Hm," Gandalf said, eyeing them both. "Maybe they take after their fathers."

Aragorn laughed. "Think you this one wise and placid?" he said, waving in Faramir's direction.

"I do," Gandalf replied.

Aragorn's eyes shone fondly. "As do I."

Gandalf held up a hand. "I knew you both as lads and I have no doubts about the origins of your sons' temperaments. Let it rest at that." Again, he looked each of them over again said, "hmm."

Faramir's eyes narrowed. "What brings you here, Mithrandir?"

Just then Valacar announced that a kitchen maid had brought up Faramir's lunch. Gandalf muttered something about Hobbity habits rubbing off on men, but Faramir ignored him and quickly consumed the food on his plate.

"Gandalf?" Aragorn asked, inviting the Wizard to answer Faramir's question.

"My friends," Gandalf began, "I am leaving. In less than three months I and the other keepers of the rings will depart from the Gray Havens and return at long last to the Blessed Realm."

Faramir's mouth went dry and he swallowed his food with some discomfort. He looked to Aragorn, who sighed and cast his eyes downward. Faramir cherished the Wizard's counsel, but he knew that the loss of this friend would be an even harder blow for Aragorn. And then it struck him – the others were leaving, too. The kin of the King and Queen were departing Middle Earth, and soon.

Gandalf's gaze on Aragorn was compassionate as he said, "long have I wandered and watched over Middle Earth, and long have I waited to see a day such as this, when the King has not only regained the throne but has ensured the dawn of a new age. Fatherhood agrees with you, but there is something more to this…" his eyes slid to Faramir, who returned his look frankly. "The two of you have formed a strong bond already, and this could be an unlooked for gift for the age of men." Gandalf paused, holding Faramir's gaze for a while. "May it be so," he said at last, "for the third age is not done with us yet. My tasks here are completed, all but one, and ere I leave for the undying lands, I would give the last bit of guidance my flock will require from their tired, old shepherd."

Faramir resisted feeling the resentment of abandonment or sorrow that their friends were leaving them to their own devices. He knew they all had their reasons for going. Faramir noted with sadness that Gandalf, who had before only appeared old, now seemed worn and weary.

"We have always been glad of your guidance, my friend," Aragorn said, "but what task do you feel you have left undone?"

"Hmm," Gandalf said again, rising to gaze over the balcony railing at the northern course of the Anduin. "The land is learning how to support life again, and if your wives count as evidence, the people of this land also regain their strength to bring forth new life. It pains me to remind you both, who are at last and deservedly surrounded and comforted by love, that something of the darkness yet drains the strength from your land."

Faramir rose and stood by Gandalf, now looking where he was looking. "Morgul," he breathed.

Aragorn rose and stood close to Faramir. "I have commanded that it be destroyed, but we had thought to leave that evil place be until we had the strength to deal with it."

"Mablung's Rangers guard the crossroads, but none dare go nearer," said Faramir. "A fearsome darkness still haunts the place, and it is possible that the city remains a stronghold of the vanquished servants of Sauron."

Gandalf nodded. "You may well wait until your strength is regained, but I ask you to consider accepting my offer of assistance and acting sooner than you might wish. You will deal with Morgul as you deem best, Elessar, but I fear your road will be harder without me."

Faramir glanced at Aragorn, who also looked at him with questioning eyes. Then Aragorn's gaze flickered backwards, and Faramir bit his lip thoughtfully. Both men were reluctant to be parted from their children, and both men beheld for the first time a fear for their own lives such as is felt by those who are needed by someone young and helpless.

"Yes," Gandalf said softly, knowing their thoughts, "but it is their future we look to, and we would not leave this job for them to do."

"No, but we would be better prepared in a few more years; we would have more men and better weapons," Aragorn protested.

Gandalf nodded slowly. "Yes, it may be prudent to wait until Gondor is on its feet again before attempting to rid the world of the former domain of the Witch King."

Faramir sensed the meaning behind Gandalf's words and looked from Aragorn to Gandalf. "Our strength in this fight does not come from men and arms, does it, Mithrandir?"

Gandalf took a step away from the railing and looked at them both. "Indeed, were it simply a matter of breaking stones into rubble, you would be wise to wait until you had the men and equipment to spare for such a demolition. But even with an army of Dwarves and Men at your disposal, I fear the menace that lingers there would crush their spirits and send them fleeing in terror."

Faramir nodded grimly, recalling his own recent travels in that blighted land.

"You already have the defenses you need for this fight. Both of you have endured worse than anything that awaits you at Minas Morgul and you both have the strength and wisdom to bring others through this ordeal, as well." Gandalf said. Then he smiled and shook his head so that his beard wagged back and forth. "I can see right through both of you, so clear are your minds and so pure are your hearts," he said proudly. "Such a great light shines from Númenor's setting stars. Yes, you two have forged a mighty weapon against the dark, indeed, but I would still help you, if you would make haste. There is much in my knowledge and experience that could aid you in this task."

Aragorn nodded. "Truly, we know not even what it is we fight in this battle."

Valacar entered the room again to announce the arrival of Master Gimli. Faramir and Aragorn exchanged surprised looks and Gandalf smiled thinly.

"Where is that Wizard?" Gimli said as he pushed past Valacar, who grimaced slightly and departed, shutting the door behind him. "It is you! Durin's beard, what brings you here?"

Gandalf's smile turned into a grin. "How fare you, Master Dwarf?"

"These Men and their foolishness!" Gimli burst out. He barely nodded at Aragorn and Faramir before taking the chair Aragorn had formerly been occupying out on the balcony. "If you want to get a job done right, do it yourself they say, and indeed, I find myself single-handedly rebuilding the second circle, it seems, with little aid or assistance from…" Gimli turned around and noticed that the others were still in the study. "What are you waiting for?" he asked. "Come out on the balcony where it is cooler!"

Faramir laughed nervously. He hadn't spent much time with the Dwarf, but Aragorn always seemed to take his insolence in good humor, so Faramir followed his lead and returned to the balcony as Gimli continued his diatribe against the inadequacies of Minas Tirith's stonemasons.

When Gimli paused to take a breath, Aragorn smiled wryly and asked, "then I assume you would not be opposed to taking some time away from the city? A ride into the countryside and, perhaps, an adventure or two?"

"With you?" Gimli exclaimed in delight. "You know I am always at your service!"

"I will not be going," Aragorn said, and all heads turned toward him. Aragorn leaned forward onto the balcony railing and gazed to the east. "If, as Gandalf says, Faramir and I are both capable of bearing this burden, then it matters not which of us goes and which stays to govern. I would gladly go…"Aragorn sighed and turned back to them. "But I have other duties here that, though they make me less glad, are no less important. Ithilien is your land, Faramir. I give you the burden and the glory of this task."

Faramir bowed his head in acquiescence, though he felt some regret for the King's unexpected decision. He had lost his stomach for battle and would have gladly traded valor for the quiet fulfillment of less glamorous duties. Then again, the thought of sending Gondor's King to the Black City did not sit well with him, either.

Gimli harrumphed and crossed his arms. "I suppose if you have better things to do, I'll just have to find another traveling companion who will brood for hours on end and lead us on routes that take us the far way 'round. I don't suppose that pointy-eared guest of yours will want to join us?" he asked Faramir.

Aragorn smiled at Gimli's jest and nodded to Faramir. "The Elves of Greenwood lived long in the shadow of Dol Guldur. Legolas knows the ways of The Nine and he will be a mighty friend to us in this task."

Gandalf spread his arms wide. "It is settled, then. It is well that we should face this together with our friends. Today we have much to speak of regarding the evils we may confront. Tomorrow, we will ride to Emyn Arnen to make our request of Legolas. And, if he be awake," Gandalf said with a wink, "I desire to make the acquaintance of the heir to the Prince of Ithilien ere I leave these lands for good."

In his dream, Faramir stood before his father who looked at him with disdain, but then Denethor's eyes flashed a challenge and Faramir realized there was yet hope to win his approval. "Have you the courage to do my will?" Denethor asked. "It was never courage that I lacked, father," Faramir answered. He turned to leave and heard his father's voice calling, "do not take my son from me!" Joy and confusion mingled in Faramir's heart as he turned back to face not his father, but Gandalf, who was gently cradling Elboron and cooing at him. Faramir tried to go to them, but a wall of flame arose between them.

Faramir awoke with a cough. "Carcharoth's breath," he swore and ran a hand through his hair, tossing restlessly in his bed. The dream was annoyingly familiar, each time with a slightly different variation. Usually he dreamed about what had been, but sometimes his dream self asked his father not to send him back to Osgiliath, and sometimes he even broke down and begged for Denethor's forgiveness for sending the Ring into Mordor. Often, and this disturbed him the most, when he turned back it was Aragorn he saw, not his father. This was the first time he had seen Gandalf or Elboron. Each time played out differently, but always the same theme hammered at him until he woke: he and Denethor each sought something the other would not give.

Faramir arose and busied himself with tidying up his room. He knew he could not fall back to sleep right away and he was determined not to dwell on the dream. Instead, he thought about how he missed Elboron and Éowyn, and how he dreaded telling his wife what had to be done. His mind was filled with dark thoughts, for hours of Gandalf's tutoring on what to expect at Minas Morgul had not been a lesson to be taken lightly. After he had picked up, inspected, and set down again nearly every object in the room, he donned his clothing so he could pace off his thoughts elsewhere.

He left the private wing of the King's house and walked to the Council chamber. Twice he had circled the enormous table before he noticed an intermittent glow coming from the study and the smell of fragrant smoke. He went to the door and saw Aragorn's pipe dimly glowing red in a pool of blue moonlight. Faramir smiled; he enjoyed watching his friend indulge in his vices.

"I saw you come in five minutes ago. I thought perhaps you were ignoring me," Aragorn's voice said, teasing.

"I was distracted," Faramir said and went to sit across the ledger table from Aragorn.

"I cannot sleep either," said Aragorn.

"I was asleep, but a dream awoke me," Faramir said, then realized he should hold his tongue. He had not told Aragorn about these dreams, nor did he want to.

"Was it a portentous dream?" Aragorn asked with interest.

Faramir shook his head. He and Aragorn were very close, but Aragorn was still King, and he was still Steward. Despite their friendship, there remained a tangible tension between them that wavered between pulling them together and pushing them apart. Faramir often worried that they were too familiar, more intimate with each other than men in their positions should be, so he said, "It was just a dream reminding me that I miss my son."

They sat in silence for a while before Faramir asked, "which would disturb you more: fighting an unknown enemy or leaving your wife and child for days, maybe weeks?"

Aragorn laughed. "Now we know why married men make such poor soldiers. It is not battle by daylight that we fear, but loneliness by night."

Faramir smiled. "Well, whatever may come to pass, with this company I do not think the nights will be very lonely."

"I wish I were going with you," Aragorn sighed.

"You must be suffering. We did not know they would be leaving us so soon," Faramir said. Aragorn turned his head away. "I know you must long to go on another adventure with your friends. Say the word, Aragorn, and I will stay in your stead."

Aragorn huffed out a laugh. "Hm! You do not wish to go."

Faramir looked down. "Do not think poorly of me. It is just that…"

"Faramir," Aragorn chided him gently. "I would never think…" he shook his head and smiled affectionately at Faramir. "I know why you are reluctant, and perhaps my decision was poor, for I am sending you to do something that I wish to do, while I remain behind to do that for which you are better suited."

Faramir cocked his head and looked again at Aragorn. "Then why am I going while you stay behind? You led the forces to Rhûn last summer."

Aragorn was silent for a moment and Faramir could not see the expression on his face. "The King must not put himself in danger when there is another who will do the job just as well…or perhaps better. The Easterlings needed to see me with their own eyes, but this time, there is no reason for you not to lead."

Faramir smiled sympathetically. "I am sorry, Aragorn, but you are correct. I must go and you must remain."

Aragorn shrugged and re-lit his pipe. He smoked for a minute, then said, "There is something I want to give you for this journey, but I think you will try to refuse it."

Faramir shook his head. "I will not be gone long. There is no need for a parting gift!"

The corner of Aragorn's mouth quirked upward. "It is no gift, my friend. I will want it back when you return." Aragorn reached into his vest and laid something on the table between them.

The room was dark but the object on the table captured what little light was in the room and magnified it so that it seemed to be shining much brighter than the moon itself. Faramir's hand reached out for it before he could stop himself and he beheld a beautiful clear jewel mounted on a cord of woven silver. Faramir's hand began to tremble and he gently put the jewel back down on the table.

"Elendilmir," Faramir whispered. "Aragorn, I cannot."

"I command you to take it," Aragorn said firmly.

"It is a sign of rule…" Faramir protested, aghast at the thought of possessing this symbol of a power that was not his to claim.

Aragorn interrupted him. "It is more than that. It has potency and I believe that it remembers Minas Ithil as it was before. Perhaps it remembers everything: Andúnië in Númenor, Silmariën, and more. May it help you accomplish your task."

Aragorn reached across the table and pressed the jewel into Faramir's hand, closing his fingers around it. "If I cannot go with you, I will send this in my stead. Bring my jewel back to me safely and swiftly." Aragorn released Faramir's hand and resumed his smoking.

Faramir watched him smoke for a while, touched by Aragorn's trust and pitying the King for his thwarted desire to take this journey himself. The pull he felt toward Aragorn grew stronger and he knew it was in his power to mitigate some of the sadness Aragorn was feeling. Once again casting propriety aside, he said, "Come with us to Emyn Arnen tomorrow. I can promise you one merry evening with your friends before we depart."

Aragorn smiled. "Thank you. I would like that."

Faramir pressed the jewel to his heart. "Aragorn, I…"

"It is late," Aragorn said quickly. "Let us talk more on the ride tomorrow."

So it was that Aragorn set out the next morning with a small retinue of his personal guard, along with Faramir, Gandalf, and Gimli, headed for Emyn Arnen. Upon their arrival to his estate, Faramir charged Beregond with sheltering the King's guard and preparing for their journey the next day. He sent his page, Angril, to the Elves' cottage to ask Legolas to join them in the great room. Then he spoke to Maida about readying sleeping chambers for their guests.

Maida looked at him reproachfully. "My Lord," she said under her breath, "who would you have share their room with the Dwarf: the King or the Wizard?"

Faramir gave her a puzzled look. "What do you mean?" he asked, mildly irritated.

"Do you forget how small your own house is, my Lord? We only have two guest chambers, last I checked."

Faramir couldn't help but smile at her cheek. "Ah, yes. Our future guest house still belongs to the Elves, I suppose. I will see what I can do for tonight," he said.

When Faramir told his guests of his inhospitable dilemma, Legolas laid a hand on Gimli's shoulder and said, "we have room in our cottage, or room enough for this one, at least."

"Hmph. Well, I suppose a cottage is better than a tree, at any rate" Gimli grumbled.

After showing his guests the Rohirric layout of the house, with a separate storeroom and kitchen, Faramir took them through the young arbor and orchards tended by the Elves Luthir and Arasail. "This tree, for example," Faramir gestured to a sapling not unlike all the others, "is supposed to have the ability to thrive on very poor land, such as that along the Morgulduin. Arasail hopes that it will actually leach the poisons from the soil, allowing less hearty plants to grow up around its roots."

Legolas touched the tree reverently. "It is a rare thing for my kind, but I find myself impatient. I hope these little ones grow quickly so that I can begin my work."

Gandalf gave Legolas a curious look. "Perhaps you are caught up in the spirit of transformation that seems to be gripping this land."

Legolas looked past the others, toward the Anduin. "Perhaps. But I find this drive for haste unsettling."

Aragorn touched him lightly on the arm. "You are surrounded by us now. We are putting demands on you."

Legolas shook his head and moved away from Aragorn and the others. "No, that is not it."

Faramir watched this exchange with interest. Legolas had indeed seemed restless of late, but Faramir had not found a way to discuss it with him. After a moment too long of silence, Faramir cleared his throat and said, "and that house over there contains another ingenious device of Rohirric culture: a bath."

"A what?" Gimli asked.

Faramir laughed. "A bath, a room for bathing in."

"Why do you need a room for that? What is wrong with a perfectly good stream, if one must bathe?" asked the bemused Dwarf.

"Ah, but this is warm water," Faramir explained. "And the air is full of steam, and after you go from the hot pool to the cold, one of your friends beats you across the back with a nice bundle of twigs, and then you finish up by downing a cool glass of strong ale."

Gandalf looked askance at Faramir. "Ah, yes. Physical discomfort mitigated by strong drink. Very Rohirric, indeed."

Gimli grinned. "Sounds like a fine time. I knew I liked those horsemen! When do we start?"

Legolas and Aragorn led Gimli and Gandalf to the house where the Elves were lodged. Faramir returned to his house to break the news of his immanent departure to Éowyn.

She was pacing the nursery with Elboron over one shoulder, bouncing him and humming. She did not see Faramir at first, so he watched her for a few moments before saying, "you could ask Maida to do that."

"You always say that, and I always reply that I want to do these things myself," Éowyn said, turning to him for a kiss. "I do not want my children nursed and raised by strangers."

"Maida is hardly a stranger. Here – let me," Faramir said, taking his son on his own shoulder and beginning the bouncing walk around the room which he hoped would soon result in a sound asleep child.

Éowyn smiled crookedly. "See? You want to do these things yourself, too, only I will not let you do them as often as you like."

Faramir nodded. "'Tis true. You are very selfish with our son."

Éowyn's smile faded. "I saw you in the courtyard. That is quite an escort you brought back with you."

Faramir sighed. "Let me get him to sleep and then I will tell you what I must do."

Éowyn left the room to change into more formal attire to receive her guests and Faramir put Elboron down for his nap. He joined Éowyn in her study and sat down across from her at her desk. "The King has charged me with an expedition to Minas Morgul, with the aim of being rid of it once and for all."

Éowyn paled. "But he already decided to let it be for now."

Faramir nodded. "Gandalf is leaving. He thinks we might need his help in this task."

Éowyn was quiet for a while, then she nodded curtly and said, "when do you think you will return?"

"I am not sure. It is not far, but we do not know what we will face there. If all goes well, I might return within the week. If we find nothing there to oppose us, we can return swiftly and send a request to the Dwarves to aid us in the city's destruction."

Éowyn then did one of the things that bound Faramir's heart to her ever more firmly as the years of their love wore on. She said no more about the inconvenience of his pending absence or her worries over the dangers he faced. Instead, she shot through him with a look of her cool blue eyes and said in a low tone, "do not be late to my bed tonight."

That night after dinner, Faramir and his guests adjourned to the bath. They were joined by a reluctant Beregond, who had privately protested to Faramir that there were better ways of entertaining their distinguished guests on a hot summer night. Faramir disagreed, and his faithful Captain kept silent – for a while. The men shed their clothing in the anteroom and Faramir led them into the inner chamber, which was wood paneled and full of steam.

"Sit on the benches against the wall. Try the lower bench if it is too hot above," Faramir directed them.

"My Lord," Beregond grumbled aloud this time, clutching his towel tightly around his waist. "The night is still thick with summer heat. We might as well go sit under the stars if we want to bathe in steam!"

Aragorn smiled, resting an arm across Faramir's shoulders. "Lord Faramir is just proud of his wife's heritage and wants to show off the luxuries of his estate for his friends."

"Especially for Mithrandir," Faramir added. He was concerned by the stoop in Gandalf's shoulders, the apparent stiffness in his joints.

Gandalf snorted. "Really?"

"'Tis true," Faramir averred. "After a night in the bath, you will feel much better. I swear, you will feel no aches or pains."

"I feel no pain, that is for certain," said Gimli, who was already sprawled out along the top bench. Legolas leapt up and crouched on the bench beside Gimli, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

Soon the other four squeezed themselves onto the lower bench, but Beregond kept squirming and sighing.

"So take a dip in the cold pool," Faramir said, pushing him off the bench. "And then fetch the ale. The same stream that chills the cold tub is also chilling a bottle just outside, and there should be a glass in the anteroom."

Faramir bent forward and rested his head in his hands, closing his eyes and relaxing deeply. Aragorn was on his other side, their thighs pressed sweatily together. Faramir raised his head and looked at Gandalf, who was leaning his head back and had a blissful smile on his face.

"I knew you would like it," Faramir said, grinning. Gandalf's smile widened slightly.

Legolas came down off the bench and climbed into the warm pool, which was really just a deep tub only big enough for one person. He immersed himself up to his chin and groaned happily. "It is quite hot."

Gimli started to snore and Gandalf poked him. "Do not retire so soon, Master Dwarf . You haven't even gotten to the beating and the drinking yet!"

"I am just getting my strength up," Gimli said, and fell back asleep.

Beregond got out of the cold tub to get the ale, so Legolas hopped from the first tub into the second and let out a little yelp. "Well, it is not as cold as it was in the winter, at least." He leapt out almost immediately and grabbed the bundle of twigs from its hook on the wall. "Who wants to beat me?" he asked.

All the others burst out laughing, but none of them volunteered.

Legolas looked disappointed. "Come on now, the ritual is not yet fulfilled."

Aragorn shoved Faramir and said, "be a good host, Prince Faramir, and give this Elf what he wants."

Faramir, still laughing, took the twigs from Legolas. "Turn around," he said and gave Legolas a rapid series of gentle slaps with the bundle.

"Just enough to get the blood moving," Legolas said, staying Faramir's hand.

Beregond entered and Faramir hung up the twigs and took the bottle and glass from Beregond. He poured Legolas a drink and said, "waes hal!"

Legolas nodded smartly, a twinkle in his eye, and downed the ale. "Now I am complete," he said, and went back to his corner of the top bench.

Aragorn smiled and slapped Faramir on the rear. "Now you!"

Beregond sighed and said, "by your leave, my Lord…I apologize, but the heat is making my head hurt."

Faramir nodded. "Of course, I will see you on the morrow, Beregond."

Faramir shed his towel and sank into the hot tub, the bubbles tickling his skin as they raced to the surface. It was so hot, it took his breath away, but Faramir sat there for quite a while, until he really craved the cold water. When he got out of the cold tub, Aragorn was waiting for him with the bundle of twigs. Faramir grinned and shook his head resignedly. He turned around and clasped his hands in front of him while Aragorn treated his entire backside to a long series of slaps with the bundle. When it started to sting he said, "thank you, my Lord, that was more than adequate…"

Aragorn gave him an extra hard whack, causing Faramir to spin around and, before Aragorn could swing again, snatch the bundle from his hand. "You are not to be trusted with the tools of the bath, I see!" Faramir said, striking Aragorn across the arm with the twigs.

Aragorn escaped into the hot tub and Faramir poured himself a drink, downing the whole glass in one breath. "Ah," he gasped, wiping foam from his mouth with the back of his hand. He wrapped his towel back around his waist and lay down on the lower bench, careful not to disturb Gandalf, who was humming happily to himself.

Gimli snorted, awoke with a start and sat straight up. "I am ready now!" he declared.

"Patience, friend. I just got in," Aragorn said.

Gimli climbed down and removed his towel with a menacing gesture. "Move along now, laddie, or I will climb in there with you."

"Is that how you address a King, sir?" Aragorn asked indignantly.

"Nudity is the great equalizer," Gandalf observed with a smile.

Gimli looked down into the tub and smirked. "Aye, but nudity also makes it apparent that not all things are equal!" he said with a hoot, and grabbed himself suggestively. "Now make room!" he said and began to climb in.

To a chorus of chuckles coming from the bench, Aragorn grimaced in disgust and hastily removed himself to the cold tub.

"All well, Mithrandir?" Faramir asked.

Gandalf raised his head. "I am quite well, and quite content not to splash around or get beaten with sticks, in case you were wondering." He lay his head back again.

"As you like, but you know not what you are missing," Aragorn said.

"Indeed, I do know. Do you think I never spent a winter night in Rohan during the last five hundred years?"

Faramir smiled, but lethargy had settled over him and his head was spinning from the drink and the heat. He did not stir, even when Aragorn stood over him, prodding him with the bundle of twigs. "I have not the energy to thrash the King," Faramir said. "Let Legolas do it."

Legolas happily complied, stopping after ever few strokes and asking, "enough?"

"More," Aragorn answered, and answered likewise again five times, his back reddening with each successive round. The sixth time Legolas asked, Aragorn drew in a sharp breath and said, "yes, enough." Legolas poured him a drink and he downed it, settling woozily on the upper bench.

Legolas waited by the cold tub to give Gimli his thrashing, too, and then they both shared another two large drinks, nearly finishing the bottle.

"Well," Gimli grunted in satisfaction. "That was the best bath I ever had!"

"We will join you for breakfast," Legolas said.

Faramir forced himself up into a seated position. "Yes, of course. Sleep well," he said, stretching his arms out and accidentally jostling Gandalf, who opened one eye to glare at him. "Sorry, Mithrandir."

After Legolas and Gimli left, Faramir reached over to the bottle and poured the last drink, handing it to Gandalf. "Here, you can skip straight to the drinking,"

Gandalf smiled and drank the ale with gusto. "Ah, the taste of Rohan," he said, shaking his head.

Faramir leaned his head back against Aragorn's leg and Aragorn rubbed Faramir's shoulders. Faramir groaned in appreciation, but said, "I had better go. I have yet another appointment this night."

Aragorn laughed. "Best not to keep that one waiting. Thank you for a memorable evening, Faramir. The vision of a naked dwarf wagging himself at me is forever etched in my mind. How can I ever repay you?"

Faramir looked up at him with a lazy smile. "Should I be afraid?"

Note: Carcharoth – the Wolf of Angband from The Silmarillion