A/N: Thanks to Pearl, Akatsuki and Ellyn for their kind reviews.

The next morning, Faramir rose early. He dressed and walked upon the wall of the city, lost in his thoughts. Aragorn watched him from the window of his room. He smiled as Arwen's arms encircled his waist.

"Do you think he will change his mind?" she murmured softly in her musical voice.

"I don't know. He has been weighed down by great fear and many cares for a long time. I do not blame him for being frightened by the very thing that destroyed his father." He turned to face his wife. "However, a couple of his friends from the rangers are coming in today and they may be able to sway his decision."

"Who is it?"

"Damrod and Anborn. I hope Faramir will confide in them and that the two of them will give him good counsel. Damrod indicated that they along with two others have been close friends since childhood."

"If they are as close as you believe, then it will do Faramir's heart good to speak with them." Arwen observed with a quick kiss to her husband's cheek.

The royal couple's prediction came true just a few hours later. Faramir had sought solitude at the top of the white tower when he was accosted by his friends.

"Don't you know it's hazardous to one's health to attempt to sneak up on a ranger?" the prince asked as Damrod silently appeared behind him.

"Whoever said I was trying to sneak?" The ranger replied cheekily, a broad grin spread across his tanned features. "I knew you would sense me behind you, so what's the point in saying anything."

Anborn chuckled at the amiable swat Faramir gave his best friend. He sank down next to the other two men, noting the weariness written on his captain's face. "What's troubling you, Miri?" He kept his tone light and gentle.

Faramir's shoulders slumped forward. His face fell and his gaze dropped to his hands. He closed his eyes briefly before looking over at the other ranger. "I haven't been sleeping well. I've been dreaming of my father's death."

"You what?" Damrod gasped. "I thought you were unconscious when Lord Denethor passed. How can you then be dreaming of it?"

Faramir sighed. "King Elessar believes that somehow one of the missing seeing stones is calling to me. The images that I'm seeing in my dreams are the same that the palantir shows."

"What does the king want you to do?" Anborn asked softly.

The steward pressed his lips together and took a deep breath before answering. "He wants me to look into the stone my father used. I don't know if I'm strong enough to do it." He stopped at the shocked look on his friends' faces.

"Miri, what are you talking about? You're one of the strongest men I know." Damrod protested. "Even the king said you have a staunch will."

"But I am also my father's son; and I am as sensitive as he was, if not more so. What if my mind becomes enslaved as his did?"

Anborn placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Faramir." His voice was soft yet firm capturing the other's attention, for the ranger was one of the few who still called him by his childhood nickname. "Faramir, you can do this thing. When you were so ill at the end of the war, many despaired of your healing. Yet here you are, healed, strong, and alive. You were spared for a reason. Perhaps this is it."

Faramir looked at him with eyes that remained shadowed by doubt. "I wish I shared your assurance, my friend."

Anborn's only answer was a quick squeeze of his shoulder before he rose and disappeared down the steps.

That evening, Faramir knocked hesitantly on the door leading to Aragorn's study. He took a deep breath to steady himself as the king's voice bade him enter. "Might I have a word with you milord?" He stopped, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as the king raised an eyebrow at the formality of his speech.

"Certainly Prince Faramir." Aragorn replied in kind. He directed his steward to a chair then waited for the younger man to speak. The silence reigned for several minutes broken only by the crackling of the fire in the hearth laid to ward off the evening's chill. Finally Faramir spoke.

"I do not know the strength that lies within my heart. I do not know if I am capable of bending the stone to my will or if I can receive the knowledge that you seek. However, if you believe me able, I will attempt to look into the palantir." He paused, catching his lower lip between his teeth. "Though, I fear I shall need your guidance, milord." His voice was almost childlike, longing and quiet.

Aragorn smiled gently. "Of course, mellon nin. I will be at your side the entire time. When do you want to attempt this?"

The tiniest of smiles quirked at the corner of Faramir's mouth. "Now, before I lose my resolve, milord."

The king smiled too. "Very well." He rose offering his hand to his steward before a teasing glint came into his grey eyes. "On one condition, stop calling me milord. It's Aragorn."

Faramir blushed again. "I cannot call my liege by his given name." He murmured, staring at the ground.

"Can you call a friend by his given name?" Aragorn countered. He knelt in front of the younger man, gently raising his chin, forcing their gaze to meet.

Faramir stared at him for a moment, a flicker of fear in his orbs. Finally he blinked and took a deep breath. "Aye, that I can do."

"Then come, let us face this destiny together." The king led the way to a smaller room, just off the study. He lit the candles with a spill from the fireplace. Both palantirs lay side by side on a small table, both covered by a simple white cloth. "The one on the right is the one your father possessed." He pulled the cloth away revealing the black stone.

Faramir paused, feeling the first fluttering of fear in his stomach. His breathing quickened and his palms became sweaty. He closed his eyes to steady himself as he felt Aragorn grip his shoulder in support. Taking a deep breath, he raised his head. "Show me what to do."

"Place your hands on either side of the stone and look into its center. The rest should happen on its own."

The steward gently took the stone in his hands. It was strangely warm as if it were somehow alive. Its smooth hard surface reflected the light of the candles around them. He bowed his head staring at the middle of the stone. Suddenly it flared to life and he made a strangled sound as flames appeared. Buzzing sounded in his ears and a great weight pressed upon his head. A choked sob escaped his lips as he beheld the wizened hands from his dream. Aragorn spoke from behind him, his voice distance and muffled.

"Bend it to your will. Tell it to show you what lies along the Morgul Vale."

Faramir struggled to comply, his body trembling from the effort. Suddenly everything around him disappeared and he seemed to be standing upon a hill overlooking the vale. He moved forward on instinct, his feet following an unseen path. His course wound down a steep hill, each step bringing him closer to now silent and empty city of Minas Morgul. He shuddered slightly, chilled by the echoes of evil that still prevailed. He cast a cautious gaze about his surroundings, searching for the thing that drew him so forcefully. A sudden glimmer caught his eye as he turned his head. There, half buried under dirt and loose shale was a sphere, dark as midnight. Its center swirled with flashes of orange and red. Faramir knelt, reaching his hand out toward the stone. As his fingertips brushed against it, sharp pain abruptly exploded behind his eyes. He tried to pull back from the palatir, but it seemed to be attached to his hand. Agony raced through him as he felt himself falling. Something hard impacted with the back of his head and his vision went black.

"Faramir! Faramir!" There was a cool hand on his brow and freshness to the air. He groaned as he tried to open his eyes. His head was throbbing and waves of nausea washed over him. "Go easy mellon nin."

"Wha…what…hap….happened?" Faramir stuttered over the words. He couldn't focus on the face above him.

"Somehow a surge of power from the palantir threw you backwards and into the doorframe. You've been unconscious for several minutes." Aragorn's voice was gentle. His visage swam as Faramir concentrated on keeping his stomach in place. It would never do for him to be sick in front of the king. Unfortunately his body didn't seem to agree as something sour surged in the back of his throat. He gagged, pressing a closed fist against his lips. Aragorn, recognizing the distinctive jerk of his steward's shoulders, quickly grabbed a nearby container. Dumping the numerous odds and ends out of it, he held it under the younger man's mouth just as Faramir lost the battle with his stomach. The king pressed his hand against the other's neck, focusing all of his energy into a soothing touch that Lord Elrond had taught him many years before. Finally the retching slowed and color crept back into Faramir's ashen cheeks. He opened his mouth to apologize but Aragorn cut him off. "There is nothing to apologize for, mellon nin. I was a healer long before I was a king."

Faramir nodded, feeling too dizzy and sick to respond any differently. He closed his eyes trying to will the room to stop spinning. He never noticed Aragorn's departure nor did he react when the king returned with Damrod in tow.