Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Enjoy.
And Gondor Rejoiced
For months, he had lived only because to die was against his duty.
Faramir knew of duty. It coursed through his veins. It had awoken him from dark dreams. It had a name.
Gondor.
And she was a jealous, all-consuming mistress which always called for, hungered for, more.
The White Rod was handed back to him in such a magnanimous gesture that there were none to notice the apology in the King's eyes nor the hard set of the Steward's mouth before he began to smile.
"No, I say that that office is not ended…"
I've actually been thinking about trying to make a longer story based off of this. What do you think?