A/N: Thank you to everybody who responded to the last batch of chapters - and didn't lynch me! Something a little gentler today, I think.

I forgot to thank Isabeau last time I posted, which was outrageous of me, since she's so bloody brilliant and has helped so much, and sneaked Damrod's brandy, about which I have been fretting for some time, into her last but one chapter.

Oh, and in passing, I'd like to mention that I am long-term happy with a splendid feller who, amongst his many wonderful characteristics (e.g. cooking), has not complained once that I have spent the last month thoroughly immersed in the head of another, fictional man, LOL! And I was also the spoilt baby sister of five much older siblings, so no horrid childhood either. But those court ladies really get my goat.

eowyn in disguise: I'm chuffed that you've gone off to read TSE and I hope you like him. I'd love to know what you've said to your sister about the end. Hey, I need a clue too!

Thank you to Kshar, who sent me this quotation which fits superbly, as well as absolutely brilliant feedback:

It is the hour of the complicated knitting on the safe bone needles;

            of the games of anagrams and bridge;

The deadly game of chess; the book held up like a mask.

Louise Bogan, Evening in the Sanitarium

This is pretty exhausting stuff to write, I can tell you. But thank you everyone so much for reading it and writing back throughout. Episcopal Witch asked whether I envisaged any of this when I was writing the wedding scene - no I absolutely did not, LOL!! (But does anyone imagine this kind of thing on their wedding day?) I was going to try my hand at writing a sort of nice gentle Persuasion style romance in which there was sadness and misunderstanding, but all was sorted out in about eight chapters. Blimey, I'd hate to get my subconscious on the couch.

Oh, and Ricco - 'evil witch lady'?!? Have you been talking to my friends? Although they usually add 'from hell' at the end, LOL!

Altariel

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XII

I woke early, and looked in on my nephew, who was in a deep sleep. I did not intend to wake him, judging it best he slept for as long as he needed. But I did stand and watch him for a while, thinking again of what he had told me the day before. I myself had lain awake far into the night, searching my mind and my heart for any memory or clue that might have warned me of the plight of my sister and her children. As I lay there deep in thought, I felt very badly, and believed I should have guessed for, although she had always been gentle and softly-spoken, she had become very quiet after her marriage; and then there was my nephew, too silent and wise for a child; and his brother, who tried so diligently to protect him he would even speak for him. And I did not feel that I could absolve myself from some responsibility in this tragedy, for I suspected I had become so caught up in the happiness of my own marriage and the joy of my own children that I had not paid enough attention to the warnings. But the most blame I laid at the door of that wicked man, and I thought bitterly that I was glad he had died in despair, after the great grief he had caused and the ruin he had brought upon his family. I looked again at my nephew and thanked the Valar that he, at least, had survived, however battered.

But then I thought angrily how it might be that Denethor's baleful influence had savaged another family, for there were two young children caught between my nephew and his wife, two children that had not even known their grandfather, and yet were still suffering on his account. And, again, I could hardly bear to think of my responsibility in this matter, sending Éowyn in to confront a man whom I had judged was simply being obstinate. There was no question in my mind that I would give my nephew whatever he needed at this time in his life; and, indeed, I would have done it even if it had been that he was only being stubborn, for I thought of him as a son, and I loved my children however they might err.

With a sigh, I left him to sleep, and went downstairs. It was only the third morning since my return to the city and I had, as yet, spent barely any time seeing to any business of my own, so I sat down to read through some of my papers over a good breakfast. After some time I became aware of the presence of someone else in the room. I looked up to see my nephew standing in the doorway, chewing his lip and looking at me very diffidently, his arms folded about him. His hair was wet and slicked back from his face, which looked well scrubbed; and his eyes were clear, and I was glad to see that the dark shadows that had been about them the previous day had almost gone, for they had made him seem too pale. His clothes, I thought, seemed rather crumpled, but it looked as if he had rested well, and I was relieved, for I had feared he might dream during the night.

'Come in!' I said cheerfully, setting down my papers. 'Have some breakfast.'

He sat down to my right and helped himself to a dish of porridge, and then sat looking down at it. At closer range, I could see the tension around his eyes and mouth, but that hardly surprised me. Despite his much improved appearance and his obvious determination to put on a good show, I sensed that a gentle tap would be quite enough to break him apart, and I knew I had to take great care.

'How do you feel?' I prompted.

'Well, I am no longer suffering the effects of all that brandy,' he said with a sigh, 'For which I am most thankful.'

'Not a habit you want to cultivate, I think.'

'I quite agree.' He picked up his spoon and started eating, with little enthusiasm. After a few moments he stopped, set down the spoon and stared into the bowl. 'I have not yet said to you...' Then he raised his head and looked at me directly, for he was not a coward. 'I am sorry, uncle. What I said - '

I held up my hand. 'You need say no more,' I replied gently.

His shoulders slumped in relief. 'I had a whole speech prepared,' he confessed, 'During which I intended to grovel.'

'I would not have you do that!' I said. 'Even if... yesterday had not happened. I was concerned about you, Faramir. It was as if I was talking to a different man.'

He started playing with his spoon. 'And we know which man that was.'

'Aye, well, you can see the cause of my concern. It was a shock to see you like that after so long away. You must have had a hellish year.'

'It has not been easy,' he mumbled.

'How ill have you been?'

'Somewhat, at the outset,' he said evasively.

'Faramir, give me a proper answer.'

He looked down at the table. 'The work overwhelmed me. I was very ill at the start of the year. It became better, then I went to Poros... ' He caught my expression. 'I know now it was unwise. I thought I had improved...' He sighed. 'I have not been very happy,' he concluded.

He was a man with a gift for précis, but sometimes he took it to extremes.

'And so you judged that with everything else your wife was too much?'

'Something on those lines.' He pressed and lifted his forefinger on the bowl of the spoon and watched intently as the handle rose and fell, rose and fell.

'Not, perhaps, one of your wiser decisions,' I said gently.

He looked very sad, and did not reply.

I cleared my throat. 'Well,' I said. 'That is a conversation for another day, I think. But in the meantime, I believe I owe you an apology in turn.'

He looked up at me in surprise. 'I cannot possibly imagine - '

'Well I can. I owe you an apology for not taking the trouble to establish whether my intervention was wise, and for not treating you with sufficient respect. Now finish that before it gets cold,' I said, pointing at his dish. 'My lord steward,' I added and he laughed, rubbed his forehead, and carried on eating.

After a few moments he spoke again. 'I was anticipating something more of a lecture on my failure to... to inform my wife of my illness.'

'I told you my opinion on that more than a year ago. And I have no intention of lecturing you on anything after what you have been through. Particularly what you told me yesterday.'

He flinched, and I worried for a moment if I had been wise to broach the topic. 'I wish I had said naught,' he murmured. 'My mother... your sister... I would not have told you like that; I am so very sorry...'

'An apology is hardly necessary from you on this count! The only apology should come from that abominable man and he, thankfully, is not around to offer it - which I doubt he would - '

'Please!' he said suddenly, putting one hand to his temple in a defensive gesture, to my great alarm. 'I have never said, but it helps little to hear how you so hated him!' He pressed his fingers harder against his head. 'It is all so tangled! Despite all, he was my father... I do not know to whom I should be loyal, and I beseech you not to keep forcing this choice upon me... I am so weary...' He put his hands down flat on the table, trying to control his distress, and then he looked at me. 'And while he may have despaired at the end, uncle, he did not surrender. He did not submit to the Enemy, and he fought with all his strength. This, I think, we are wont to forget.'

We lapsed into silence, and I felt again ashamed. For, in truth, I had not before considered how badly he might feel hearing his father repeatedly maligned. And it was natural that a man as merciful as he would continue loving and forgiving Denethor, but at the same time his attachment and deference to me would have made my very vocal opinions a great strain for him. Hearing him speak I regretted now how quick I had always been to speak my mind and so place him in this quandary - but yet I was encouraged that he had now felt it safe to speak frankly to me on the matter. This, I judged, he could not have done before our quarrel - it seemed some good might come from it after all. For he had disagreed with me, and yet he had not had to assume his father's guise to do so, and had instead spoken from his own instincts, his sense of justice, and of pity.

In time he spoke again. 'On the bridge at Osgiliath, Boromir and I were almost the only ones to survive, and we were both hurt...' His face darkened for a moment. 'Then we had to swim to shore... I'm sure you can picture the pair of us, staggering upriver back to camp. It was a few days before we could make the journey back here. But when we did get back, we walked into the Great Hall - well, I walked, Boromir limped; he had a sense of occasion when it came to getting injured - and all the council were there. Father went to Boromir first, of course, and embraced him, and said how glad he was that he lived. He was in tears. But then he extended his arm out to me, and embraced me too, and said he was glad that we both lived. And he was glad. He felt better because I was alive. He had never done or said anything like that to me before, not in front of others. All of the council were there.'

I rather thought that this was very much in character for Denethor, eking out his love to his younger son in crumbs, keeping him always hopeful and ever hungry, but of course I did not say so; and, indeed, there was no purpose in saying it to this troubled young man, struggling to find one proof in his life, in the face of all the evidence, that his father had indeed loved him.

Instead I said gently, 'When I brought you to him after you were wounded - and I pray never to see you that way again - he was distraught.'

'But at losing me, or at the fall of his house? I am unclear even as to whether he himself knew.' He propped his head on one hand and rubbed the back of his neck. 'I shall never know. And does it matter now, I wonder? For he is dead; and I think that, after all, I would rather have the love of the living.' And he gave me a tentative smile.

'I too was distraught,' I said softly, for the memory of seeing his still, stricken body and thinking he was lost was very painful to me. 'A man should not outlive his sons, or those who are to him as dear as sons.'

His face creased, and I thought he might begin to cry, and while I was glad after all that I had pressed a little on this subject, for he plainly welcomed my reassurance that he could never lose my love and, more, he had now begun to open up to me, it was time to move him on before he crumbled once again.

'What are you going to do today?' I said, taking a sip of my tea, and thinking the question was sufficiently open for him to answer whichever way he preferred.

He regained control, and steepled his fingers. 'First, go home and change my clothes.' He looked down and pulled a face. 'Day three. And I slept in them the night before last. And then - ' He shrugged. 'Back to work. All else may be in ruin, but Gondor trundles on.'

'Do you think that is really necessary?'

'What else would I do? Sit and think? I have done enough of that recently, too much, perhaps.'

'As you wish. I shall come with you, if I may,' I said casually, setting down my cup. 'You lost a day; perhaps there is something I can do to help you catch up.'

He narrowed his eyes at me and tapped the knuckles of his thumbs against his lower lip. My nephew was not a fool and knew quite well I had no intention of letting him go back to that house alone yet, and I did not think much of the idea of him wandering around his office by himself either. But I looked back at him ingenuously.

'What? Do you think I would make a poor steward? What do you imagine I do all day at home?'

He stretched back in his chair and folded his arms. 'Well, if you can think of naught better to do so soon after returning home, I shall not stop you.'

I sent someone to his house to bring back items for him for the next few days, which was better, I thought, than him returning there himself, and then we set off for the White Tower. It was clear that the news of the departure of the Lady of Emyn Arnen had passed round the citadel, but it was gratifying to see that while Faramir may have been cold to his wife during the previous year, he had remained much his usual self with his staff, and he could barely move a muscle without someone dancing discreet attendance upon him. The distraction of his work seem to soothe him a little, for here he was back in a domain which he had made well structured and organized. I leafed through some papers he handed me, but there was, in fact, little for me to do other than watch him as he worked, and it was good to see him absorbed in something other than his troubles. I was amused to see him navigate the legendary disarray of the room, effortlessly finding precisely the piece of information that he needed. He was indeed very able, and I could see why he might have chosen to tackle the manageable challenges of his office above the turbulent confusions of his home, and I hoped that this quick return was not yet another attempt at evasion. But after only a couple of hours he stretched back and looked up at me and, while the tension was still there about his eyes and mouth, he smiled, and I realized he had been right to do something which gave him a sense of accomplishment.

'I think I may stop soon. It appears the kingdom did not collapse into chaos during my day's absence.' He raised an eyebrow.

'Your staff seem very good.'

'They are magnificent. I wish I could tempt them back to Ithilien when the King returns.' And then his face dropped, thunderstruck. 'The King...' he said, and put his head in his hands.

I had hoped to avoid this issue for a few days. Éowyn would arrive at Edoras before the King was due to leave for home.

'This has not, I think,' he said in a muffled voice, 'been one of my greater diplomatic successes.'

These could, perhaps, be thought strange terms for a man to describe being forsaken by a most beloved wife, but his sorrow was so evident that no-one could be left in doubt of his true feelings on the subject. And I was reminded again just how gentle a tap it would take.

'I am sure that Aragorn will be more concerned for your well-being than any such matter,' I consoled him, not entirely certain on that score since, whilst I did not doubt that Éowyn would be scrupulous in speaking about the matter, I was not clear how rationally her brother the King might respond. But I was anxious not to have the day's work completely undone, and worried at how quickly he was falling apart. 

'When do you leave for Dol Amroth?' he said faintly.

I smiled at him fondly. 'My dear nephew,' I said, ' Do you really believe that I shall not be here to aid you?'

'I would not blame you,' he said frankly. 'I am unworthy of your support.'

I went over to the desk, took his head between my hands, as I had always done when his mood was so, and I lifted it so I might look at him steadily. 'Not if you keep on saying things like that,' I patted his face very softly. 'Come on, lad. Let's go and do something else.'

In truth, it was hard to think of what to do with him. The city itself was too busy for his mood, and many of the quieter places out of bounds. Here on the top level we were too close to his home. The gardens of the Houses of Healing, usually so restful, were of course quite inappropriate under these circumstances. I considered taking him riding, since he had sealed himself in an office for almost a year, and it would perhaps do him good to get out of the city and breathe some clear air, but I was not sure whether dragging him across the Pelennor was a good idea in his frame of mind. In the end, I resorted to the tactic I had used when he was a boy and in a state of high anxiety, and sat him in my garden with a large pile of books. He invariably became absorbed in time, and so he did this on this occasion. And after an hour or so I looked out on him and he was fast asleep. He had as yet only mentioned his wife in passing, and he had not spoken at all about his children. But it was a beginning and, I thought, perhaps not all my meddling in his life need be ill-fated.