V

Early September in Ithilien was perhaps its loveliest time, for the summer heat had passed, and the air became less heavy and much cooler, and yet the flowers lingered and all was still green. We, my family and I, could remain in the garden until well in the evening; and so we could be found, this particular evening. I lay on my front on the grass, my head propped up on one hand, with a book open before me; and on a seat nearby rested my wife, her face most serious, her attention on our new son of eight weeks. She had not been in good health before and just after the birth, for the heat had been too much for her, but I was glad to see now that some colour was returning to her face, and that she was beginning to see more of the child, for she had seemed to take little interest in him at first. This had grieved me, since I was captivated by him, and for us not to share the joy of these first weeks of his life seemed the only blemish on our happiness.

And I greatly desired all to be peaceable at home, for I had much to concern me elsewhere. Not in the governance of Ithilien; that at least was going well. After my failure the previous winter, I had stayed away from the company for more than a month. I told my wife that this was so I could be near her while her condition was delicate; and it was true that I did not want to be far from her at that time. But I also did not want to worry her with something about which she could do naught, for I felt this was a matter upon which I needed to reflect more myself before confiding in another. And, in truth, I still felt deep shame at what had happened, and I did not know for certain what my wife, who honoured valour above all and was so brave herself, would make of a man who could no longer bring himself easily even to touch a sword. This part of my silence I regretted the most, for I knew that she had seen that I no longer went about armed and, I believe, it hurt her, since the sword had been her gift to me on our wedding day. But she had much else to occupy her mind, and she did not speak to me of it.

Out with the company itself, there was never a single mention of what had occurred, only silent acceptance that now the Captain no longer led from the front. For I still of course continued to journey regularly to Henneth Annûn, and to our outposts at the Crossroads and Poros, and throughout the country; but I did not patrol, and I knew that it did not go unmarked, although it did go unmentioned, that I no longer bore so much as a knife. And I was moved by and grateful for all that the company did, quietly but steadily, to aid me; for on my return I saw that they had reordered their operations to be able to accommodate a commander who, to his great grief, could no longer serve them as well as they served him, and as well as they merited. It was in large part their loyalty that allowed me to govern Ithilien with any measure of success. For despite what I had believed less than a twelve-month ago, given my state of mind, would be insurmountable obstacles, Ithilien prospered. The northern marches were quiet and increasingly settled, and some people had begun to return to parts of the south, in the main around the road east of the river and south of the Crossroads, and in Emyn Arnen. And further south, too, the people of the Wood brought with them a grace which seemed daily to settle more and more upon all of Ithilien.

But on this warm and tranquil evening in September, my thoughts were less on the satisfactory consolidation of my princedom, or even on the joy I was brought by my wife and my son. They were on the East, and what I understood now was the inevitability of war, and also on the conversation I would soon have to have with the King about my incapacity, of which he was as yet unaware. The day before, I had been in council in Minas Tirith, and we had heard again entreaties from the people of Dale, who were suffering incursions on their eastern borders, and had called upon their allies in Gondor to aid them. And while the King had been mindful to heed these entreaties, I had felt it imperative to query hard the wisdom of taking Gondor back to war so soon - and I knew in my heart that at one moment in our counsels my opinion had not been objective. For any army which Gondor sent eastwards would be under the command not just of the King but, as his second, one of the two chief nobles of the land - the Princes of Dol Amroth and of Ithilien. And I guessed that I, as the younger man, would be the King's first choice. I instantly and deeply regretted my flash of temper in our deliberations, and, however brief it had been - and it had passed unnoticed by most present - I had caught the eye of the King, and he had been frowning at me. And, having spent the day thinking hard about the matter, I knew now that I could not delay any longer informing him that if Gondor were to go to war, I would not be able to fight in it. It was my intention to ride to Minas Tirith to speak to him either the next day, depending on Éowyn's health when she awoke, or the day after. And how I dreaded this encounter, for it seemed to me it would be the worst of my failures, to be unable to serve in any way he asked of me the man that I loved and admired above all others.

I looked over at my wife, who had handed our son back to the nurse, and now sat with her head resting back and her eyes closed. Then I turned back to my book, but it was not holding my attention, and I closed it with a sigh and instead rested my head upon it. Then I stretched out flat, shut my eyes, and tried to empty my mind of all is cares, listening instead to the gentle sounds of the evening.

'I am glad to see peace comes at last to Ithilien,' a voice said.

I opened an eye, twisted my neck and looked up at the King of Gondor.

As I scrambled to my feet, he went and spoke briefly to my wife, and then turned to me. 'I think I would like once again to have a sight of your remarkable study,' he said, and bade farewell gravely to Éowyn, who smiled at him, and so we went indoors.

Chaos reigned as ever in my study, and I hastily moved a pile of books from a chair and gestured to him to sit. He looked at the uppermost volume.

'Are you still wrestling with Rohirric?' he asked in frank amazement. 'I had imagined you would have abandoned that vain pursuit long ago!'

I ran my hand through my hair and laughed. 'If I claimed that volume was purely for the purposes of research, would you believe me, I wonder?' I picked it up and leafed through it. 'There are some customs about gifts to the mother of a new child that I wanted to learn about.' I gave a wry smile as I set it down again. 'And I do read it quite fluently - which my wife somehow always neglects to mention when speaking of my struggle with the spoken word.'

He laughed quietly, then sat down, and I brought round the chair from behind my desk and sat down opposite, and watched as he took out his pipe.

'Do you mind if I...?' he said, and gestured with it.

'By all means.'

'The Queen can't abide it,' he said, perhaps a little wistfully, as he filled it and lit it. After a moment or two he spoke, quite bluntly. 'I am going to war in the East,' he said, and my heart sank, even though I had known it was certain. 'But I would hear your wishes.'

I looked at him in puzzlement. 'My wishes? I am the king's to command, of course.'

'And if I commanded you to join me, on a long campaign? Speak frankly.'

I looked out of the window into the garden for a moment, and when I spoke, it was quietly. 'My allegiance to you is, I hope, beyond all question.' And he nodded. 'But it is true that I greatly desire not to go to war again.'

'We none of us, I think, desire to go to war again. Excepting, perhaps, your brother-in-law,' he amended.

I smiled, but fell silent, and looked down at my silver ring, twisting and turning beneath my fingers.

'Your pardon,' he said eventually. 'I have prevented you speaking your mind.' He leaned forward and gazed at me with those piercing grey eyes. 'This is not, I think, as straightforward a matter as wishing simply to remain in peace in Ithilien with your family.'

'There is something else,' I conceded.

'Tell me what troubles you, Faramir.'

I leaned back in my chair, folded my arms, and gave a sigh. 'You are aware it is some time now since I have taken an active part in the operation of the Ithilien company?'

'It has not escaped my attention.'

We looked at each other, grey on grey. 'I thought it would not have,' I said, and gave a soft sigh.

'You misunderstand me. It is not that which concerns me,' he said. 'Ithilien is your princedom. I trust you to govern it as you see fit, and you govern it admirably. If you are content to leave the company in the hands of men that you have trained and fought alongside, then I am content to trust your judgement. And, indeed, it has been well-founded. Ithilien is more peaceful now than it has been in all the days of your life.' He paused. 'You fought a hard war. I do not blame you for wishing to live in peace for a while. But,' and here he frowned, 'I detected in your most recent contribution to our counsels a note of alarm which troubled me. Mostly, I would add, because I have hitherto never known you to offer me an opinion which has not been first considered so carefully as to be unassailable once given.' He stopped and gazed at me. 'You have, I think, something to tell me.'

I took a deep and somewhat uneven breath - and then, leaning forward in my seat, and watching for the most part my ceaseless twisting of the ring, and only occasionally braving those eyes, I gave him a full account of what had happened on my last patrol. And then I told him of how I could no longer bring myself to carry a sword, since my hand shook when I reached for the hilt, and how I feared my for judgement and for the safety of any men that found themselves under my command at a moment of crisis. And as I spoke, he watched me steadily, and he was wreathed in smoke, but his eyes were keen and did not shift from my face. And when I had finished, I felt myself shaking again, and I forced myself to clamp one hand over the other.

We sat for a moment in silence. Then he spoke and his voice was mild. 'We can, of course, resolve this matter very simply,' he said. 'Someone has to govern in the city when I leave for the east. I had thought of asking the Prince of Dol Amroth to remain. I can see no reason why it cannot be you instead.'

It was as if a block of stone had been lifted from me.

Then he looked at me sharply. 'When were you intending to tell me about this?'

'I would have told you now, if you had come to tell me we were going to war, but had not broached the matter.'

He nodded.

'Otherwise...' I went back to twisting the ring. 'I knew you were concerned about what passed in the Council. I would have told you within a matter of days.'

He looked down and began to put away his pipe. 'You should have spoken to me sooner,' he said simply.

I could not answer him, but this shame was worse than anything I had felt at my incapacity; worse even than anything my father had made me feel.

Then he rose, and so did I; and he looked upon me gravely. 'However the Council of Gondor may have been conducted in the past, Lord Steward, your opinion is now only ever received in the highest esteem. But I would ask you, in return, to ensure that it remains worthy of that regard.' And his look became more one of compassion. 'It is not necessary for you to shield yourself from me, Faramir.'

And I took both the admonishment and the advice, since each was given justly and with love, and bowed. 'My lord,' I said.

He moved towards the door and then glanced out into the garden. 'Does the Lady of Emyn Arnen improve? She still, I thought, looked pale.'

'She is somewhat weak yet, but better; thank you.'

'And your son?'

I glowed with pleasure.

He laughed. 'You need say nothing there, for your face says enough! I am glad he thrives, and that your wife improves.' Then he looked at me sharply again. 'What has the Lady Éowyn had to say about your own health?'

I was lost for words for a moment. 'I have not... she was ill... we have not spoken of it.'

He looked at me oddly, but made no comment. 'Well,' he said, and turned back to the door, changing the subject, 'I have sent messages to Dol Amroth and the Prince will join us in the city by the end of the week. We shall speak at council again then.'

We walked outside, and I watched as he rode off, and then returned to my study. My wife was waiting for me there, leaning upon my desk.

'Is there then to be war?' she said.

'There is.'

'And when must you leave?'

'I do not leave.'

A frown crossed her face. 'What do you mean?'

'The King and the Prince Imrahil will command the armies of Gondor, and ride with your brother to the East. I shall remain in Minas Tirith as Steward.'

'Is this a reprimand?' She seemed shocked. 'Have you displeased the King somehow?'

'A reprimand? Indeed, no! Is that how you judge it? Surely a favour, rather?'

'Then I ask again - when must you leave?'

It took a moment for her full meaning to sink in, and then I looked on her in amazement. 'I had imagined the Lady of Emyn Arnen would accompany me to the city - '

'And what use would I be there?'

'I may be away months, Éowyn, more than a year, most likely,' I said, almost not believing that this exchange was taking place. 'I had thought to have my family nearby throughout, dear to me as you are.'

'Someone, surely, must look to the care of the people of Ithilien?' she replied.

'My lady,' I said gently, 'you are not well enough to devote yourself to governing Ithilien. And, besides, surely your first duty now must be the care of our son?'

Her tone in response was very sharp. 'Since you are so solicitous of his health, perhaps you and he may travel together to Minas Tirith and leave me here in peace!'

I looked at her in dismay. 'Éowyn - ' I said, reaching out my hands, palms outstretched, to pacify her.

She drew a hand across her face. 'Forgive me, sir,' she said. 'I am very tired, and merely the thought of the city exhausts me further.' Then a flash of anger passed across her face. 'How I despise myself for being this weak - and I loathe it! To be constantly so ill and so unsteady! I long to be well again!'

I stepped forward and took her arm, but she shook me off violently. 'Do not coddle me! I am not an invalid! I am simply tired, and wish for some peace! And between the demands of the child and your incessant attention I am being suffocated. I am being rubbed away!'

I drew back, uncertain of what to do or say. After a moment she sat down and seemed to compose herself. Then she spoke again, and her voice was calm, but she did not look at me. 'When must we depart?'

'Before the end of the week,' I said, after a slight hesitation.

She rose and sighed. 'It shall be as my lord commands,' she said, and left the room. And I sat down in my turn, for it had been a taxing interview with the King, and I had had little in reserve for an exchange such as this, which had taken me completely by surprise. And I decided that it was best if I gave her time to collect herself, and some of the peace she had demanded, and I remained in my study reading for a few hours. When finally I did go to our chamber, she appeared already to be sleeping, and when I whispered her name I got no response. But when I lay down next to her and put my hand diffidently on her arm, she reached out and took it, and held it tight.