A/N: I apologize for the formatting issues in Chap 19-20. I type it one way in word and it seems like it is always reformatted when I publish it. I will try to keep a better eye on it. Akatsuki, Tokiyoshi, Aisline, Natyuska: I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Contamination: Finduilas is the ideal mother in my mind. Willing to sacrifice her life for her child's Crytter: Told you Denethor would get smacked. Colonel: I kinda cried when I wrote th letter so it's ok. Equine and Jimmy: I am so sorry about the formatting. I actually had a line of astericks inserted and when I published the story, they were gone and I couldn't put them back in. I'm hoping I got enough spaces in the paragraphs this time.

Chapter 21

The parchment fluttered to the floor, falling from Denethor's suddenly numb hands. He pressed trembling palms over his face as silent tears coursed down his face. "She knew." his heart whispered painfully. "She knew how I would feel before I did." Boneless he crumpled to the floor, his body shaking as he wept. He lay there on the cold stone for many long moments, not caring about the dust collecting on his now wrinkled robes. He wept until he had nothing left and his heart felt emptier than it ever had before. For the first time in many long years he allowed himself to grieve for his lost love. He looked up as the door to his study slowly opened with a creaking sound, not giving thought to how he would appear. Imrahil's worried face came into view. It was plain the prince had not gone far.

"She loved you both so much. It broke her heart that she felt she had to choose between you."

"Why did you never show this to me?" Denethor asked his voice breaking over the words.

"Would you have listened?" The words were pointed barbs piercing his heart. Imrahil extended his hand to assist his kinsman to his feet. "If I may be so bold, Faramir's injuries have struck you much deeper than you are willing to admit. Perchance it reminds you of Fin's passing?"

"He is much like his mother." The steward's words were pained and soft. "I see my beloved every time I look at him. His eyes are just like hers."

"I know, but he is also much like you. He sees the hearts of others just as his father does."

"He scares me at times." Denethor quietly admitted. "He is much wiser and has a better grasp of his gift then I did at his age."

"Why does that scare you?" Imrahil asked as his eyebrow rose in curiosity.

"I know I'm hard towards him. I know I have wounded him. I don't know how to speak to my own son. I've pushed him away for so long that I fear he could never forgive me."

"Brother, all Faramir wants is to know that you love him. He longs for your affection and for your approval. It will take some work to gain his trust but with time he will most certainly give it."

"I would not forgive where I in his place." Denethor remarked.

"But his mother would and so will he."

Boromir paced jerkily around the small room. He was continually crossing and uncrossing his arms over his chest. As he reached each wall, he whipped around to start another lap. In the bed, Faramir lay motionless in a fever induced sleep. His condition had worsened almost immediately after his uncle had departed. Theodred had excused himself just after to attempt to force Grima to give up the poison now flowing through Faramir's veins. The heir of Gondor looked up hopefully as the door opened then his face fell as Eowyn entered the room.

"How is he?" she asked setting down the basin she carried. The young woman had cloths laid over her arm and she now dampened one in the cool water before caressing Faramir's fevered face.

"His fever is rising and at times he seems as though he's in tremendous pain." Boromir shrugged. "I don't understand. This is unlike any poison I've ever seen."

Eowyn sighed. "I've seen this reaction before but I don't remember the poison. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." He blew out his breath as he swept his hair back from his face.

She put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "If what I saw during our captivity together is any evidence, Faramir is strong and he will survive. It was his idea to jump into the river and he was the one that led us to the refuge. He was also the one who convinced the old woman to help us." She returned to Faramir's side.

Boromir glanced at her in surprise. "What old woman?"

Eowyn looked back over her shoulder. "I never found out her name, but she lives on the edge of Ithilien. She has this little cabin somewhere in the woods. I'm not even sure how your brother knew she was there. He said something about smelling wood smoke and then he disappeared. When he came back, he told me that he'd found a safe place for us to spend the night and then he led me to her home."

"He didn't tell me any of this." Boromir blinked in shock.

"He's had much on his mind. He said she knew your mother."

That brought a faint smile to Boromir's drawn face. "Miri would have begged her for information."

"I woke briefly and heard them talking. Faramir was doing just that." They were interrupted by the door. Boromir jumped to his feet in utter amazement at the sight of his father.

"Father." He acknowledged the Steward trying to hide his reaction. Denethor had shed his formal robe of state and was clad merely in a simple black tunic and breeches. He nodded to his elder son before turning his attention to his younger. Eowyn was hard pressed to hide her surprise at the tears welling in his eyes. She slipped to Boromir's side her eyes full of wondering.

"What's happening?" she whispered. "I thought he disliked Faramir."

"I don't know." The young man seemed as confused as she. "I've never seen him do this before. He's never checked on my brother when he was ill." He exchanged a quick look with his uncle.

"Your mother wrote a letter just before your brother was born. Denethor has never seen it before today." Imrahil closed his eyes. "It's the first time I've seen him truly grieve Finduilas' passing."

"He wept? Father never weeps." Boromir turned back towards his father, shaking his head as he watched him take Faramir's hand in his own. He was stunned to see unhindered tears sliding down the older man's face.

"Forgive me, my son." Denethor whispered. He placed a tentative hand on his son's forehead. "I was wrong."

Boromir audibly gasped at the words he had never heard his father utter.

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