A/N: This was written a couple of days ago, but the cursed site wouldn't let me post it! (Sigh.) Probably fiddled with it a bit too much as a result. Never mind, it's here now.

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XVI

I was whistling as I rode onto the Pelennor, and my spirits rose further to see my city ahead, the tower straight and tall and the banner of the Kings fluttering in the breeze. It was a crisp day in March, my children were perfect, my wife was speaking to me, and I had not been beaten bloody by the King of Rohan. All in all, I thought that I could judge my trip a success. As I came through the city gates and made my way slowly up the levels, I felt tired but well, better than I had done in a long time, and I resolved to take to heart the sternly delivered advice of both Éowyn and Lothíriel to ride more and read less.

And I was glad to come to the upper level and see my home again. The spring sun lit all the rooms, and my study was as welcoming as ever. I sat back in my chair with a sigh of relief, began sorting through the stack of papers that had accumulated even in this short time away, and thought of my wife.

I had, from the first moment I saw her, thought that she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. But she had been touched by a frost, and it had grieved me that all my efforts to dispel that cold seemed fruitless. I thought that the chill might take her completely before ever she had a chance to flower fully, and then, against all my expectations, she had warmed to me and she had blossomed. But I knew in my heart that whatever change I had wrought upon her - and I knew not how I had done it - it was as nothing to the changes she had brought to me. How strange and wonderful it was, for the first time in my life, to have beside me someone to whom I could give my love and know that it was welcomed purely on account of it being from me. For Boromir was loved by all, our father not least, and Denethor had no use for my affection. 

Solitude, I think, becomes a habit of the heart and of feeling; its sudden departure is bewildering, almost a shock. For this was the only way that I could explain my actions and my foolishness; that I had become so used to unhappiness that happiness had frightened me, and I had fled from it. She was, she always would be, the great love of my life, and I was the man that had let her and bliss slip through my fingers.

For I did not doubt that she was lost to me. Throughout our week together I had watched her closely - how could I not? She was so lovely - and it seemed to me that even in the few months since I had last seen her, she had changed and grown. I had not thought it possible to improve upon perfection, but my incomparable wife had contrived this. She had acquired a new grace and a new serenity, as if all the hurts and disappointments of our life together had become only a source of renewal. While I had collapsed, she had been transformed, and I knew that this had naught to do with me, but came from her own self, from her tenacity and her strength. And as a result I loved and admired her more than I had ever done - which I would also not have believed possible - but I was resigned to the knowledge that I had brought her only sorrow, and that my attentions were not wanted and were indeed no longer necessary.

I thought then of the vows we had exchanged on our wedding day, and how I had said that I would love and honour her, and had sworn to her my constancy. And it came to me that I had been false, for while I had indeed always loved her and always would, I had not honoured her as she so deserved, and my constancy too was doubtful, for I had withdrawn from her and kept from her a part of my soul. So I sat for a while in thought with my hands flat on the desk before me, and then I took off my wedding rings, and I put them carefully in my desk drawer, and my hands were now bare. And I wished her, with all my heart, all the health and happiness in her new life that I had so singularly failed to bring her in our life together.

That evening I dined with the King and Queen. I spent a little time with their daughters, and missed my own children a great deal as a result, but I thought gratefully and longingly of Éowyn's promise to send them to me soon. The Queen quizzed me thoroughly over dinner about my trip and, although I saw her eyes drift to my right hand, she did not make any comment. The King laughed out loud to hear that Éowyn had already discovered the news of my illness. And I had other news for them, since I had determined that when my children did come to Gondor, I would return to Emyn Arnen for the duration of their stay for, I said, it was a more pleasant place for children. I did not say, although this was uppermost in my thoughts, that, although they had indeed lived in the Steward's house, I could not, having so recently confronted this matter again, yet bear to have my own children back there, where I had myself been such an unhappy child. And I knew also that I could not put off forever returning to my home, even when Emyn Arnen and Ithilien, in my mind, were the symbol of that short time that Éowyn and I had been happy. 

As I was leaving, I spoke to them sternly. 'I have been appalled to learn the extent to which people have been gossiping about me,' I said, glaring at each of them in turn. I was most amused to see the King look down rather shamefacedly, the first time, I think, that he had not fully held my gaze. But the Queen looked straight back at me, then put her hand to my face and pressed my cheek.

'Obstinate man,' she murmured, and I smiled at her. 'We have all been very worried about you. It is good to see you at last with some measure of contentment.'

A letter from Éowyn arrived very soon, and she promised that the children would come to Gondor at the end of April, since, although she herself would not come, her brother and my cousin intended to journey to Dol Amroth, and would stop in Minas Tirith to mark the anniversary of the coronation. It was tempting to make the move back to Ithilien at once and to avoid this event entirely since, if Éomer was coming to the city, there was something to be said for putting the Anduin between us. But I could hardly miss the occasion. I consoled myself with the thought that it would be for only part of one day, and that surely we could behave ourselves for so short a time, and in public. I certainly had no desire to take our quarrel any further than it had gone already and could only hope that one day he would forgive me the pain I had caused his sister.

There was another reason that I did not want my children at the Steward's house, and this was because I had determined, on my return, to alter much of the inside of the building. Beginning with the ground floor, and leaving only my study intact, I intended completely to change how the house looked, removing walls if necessary. From the ground floor I would move up to the first floor, and then up to the second floor, until I was content. It was only just within my means, after all the work I had had done to the house in Emyn Arnen, but I decided that there was no price on peace of mind and I admit that a small part of me enjoyed spending my father's money when he had always been so careful. But most of all it was a gift to my children, a house in which they could be safe, and which I could leave to them with, I hoped, only happy memories. So the place became very busy and noisy, and it was well into April before I realized that all this disturbance had had no ill effect on my health. I believed this to be a positive sign for, although I had now completely accepted my condition and how it constrained what life I could lead, it was, I thought, an indication of an improved state of mind that I could live contentedly in the midst of such chaos and a mark too, I judged, of how these changes would indeed help secure that state of mind.

My uncle, on learning of my plans, flew into a small fit of paternal panic. His weekly letters to me became little packets, in which he wrote reams of detailed advice to ensure that I would not be swindled - perhaps forgetting that much of the restoration of Minas Tirith, firstly after the siege and now the large number of works that were being carried out, were done under my stewardship. I had rebuilt a city; I was fairly sure I could rebuild a house. But in my mind I could hear his voice fretting, and I knew he was saying to all about him, 'The boy may be clever, but he lacks common sense.' I resolved to confirm with my cousins, next time I saw them, that my uncle had indeed said this to them at some point. But it was very good to know someone was taking an interest, so I persuaded myself to forgive my uncle his interference and, indeed, to excuse my whole family their dreadful discourtesy in worrying about me when I was ill.

Lothíriel, on arriving at my home with my children, greeted me as affectionately as ever, although she looked with some dismay at what remained of my hallway.

'My father is going to be cross,' she said.

'Your father is not paying for it,' I murmured and kissed her cheek.

She stepped back and looked me over, then held my right hand up with a quick questioning look before shaking her head, sighing, and then starting to complain about my son's behaviour on the journey. I raised an eyebrow at my son, and he raised one back, as if to remind me that his misconduct was naught compared to that of his disreputable and absent father. I was pleased he remembered me. My daughter smiled at me, although I gathered she would smile at anyone. I restrained myself from asking any questions about Éowyn, since I could not continue intruding in her affairs, but Lothíriel took pity and said just a little, enough for me to learn that she thrived, and I was very glad to hear it.

I did not much look forward to mixing with the great and the good of the realm at the best of times, not without Éowyn there so that we could spend a happy hour or two afterwards while she mocked all and sundry and I laughed. The presence of the King of Rohan did not make this the best of times, and Lothíriel had latched on to me. Her husband met my eye very briefly, and nodded almost imperceptibly before turning back to speak to the King. That was sufficient for me, although it was uncomfortable to be so close to a man who so plainly despised me. It was not long, however, before I was called to attend to some business, and I disappeared into the White Tower with relief. But I could not stay inside indefinitely. Leaving my office reluctantly, I stood for a moment just inside and looked out without enthusiasm, hoping to catch a sight of Éomer so that I could avoid him. There was a small knot of people gathered on the steps to the Tower just to one side of me. I could hear their conversation quite easily, and I realized in astonishment that they were talking about me.

'You have marked, no doubt, that he no longer wears his wedding rings? He did go to Rohan, you know.'

'She and her brother would have torn the flesh from him! Pitiable, really.'

I had, in truth, never even once thought that my affairs might be of sufficient interest to be a source of conversation; among my family I could perhaps understand it, yes, but not at court. I felt most terribly wounded. And I had a whole new sympathy for Éowyn.

'Has anyone learnt yet why it was she left?'

'I have heard naught in full, although I think it may be that he struck her.'

'At last, a show of strength! He submitted to his wife almost as much as he did to his father.'

'And I can imagine being driven to strike her, she was the most insufferable creature.'

This was intolerable. Not so much the besmirching of my own character, although it hurt beyond words to think anyone could believe I would strike my wife, but to hear these vultures speak so vilely about a woman so infinitely their superior. I came out from where I had been standing, and as they became aware of my presence, an ominous hush fell. I cast my gaze about them, and one or two dropped their eyes, seemingly unwilling to look upon my face. Then I spoke, and my voice was very cold, and I made sure it carried.

'It takes a particular degree of idiocy to insult a man so thoroughly within his hearing. I should, of course, expect no better from the vacuous and the vain. But I must insist that, while you may say whatever you choose about the Prince of Ithilien, you never speak in such a fashion of his wife again.'

There was a silence about me. I bestowed one final, icy gaze around, then I turned on my heel and went back into the White Tower. I hardly ever called upon the authority of my most significant rank; I think this was a measure of my very great anger.

I had, of course, gone no more than a few steps inside before I felt awash with shame at my outburst and, between pitiable and insufferable, I was most upset from what I had overheard. I sought out my usual hiding place and leaned back on the wall, gnawing at my thumb nail and brooding. After a minute or two I heard someone approach. The King, of course, knew of my attachment to this spot.

'That was the most... eerie impersonation of your father.'

'Oh, do not say that, I beg you! To behave so badly on such an occasion... I must ask your forgiveness - '

He waved his hand to stop me, then came and leaned back against the wall alongside me.

'In all frankness, Faramir,' he said after a few moments, 'I think it does you little harm to fire off a few well-aimed darts now and again. The whole court has just had it demonstrated to them that there is a line that should not be crossed, even with that most agreeable of men, the Prince of Ithilien. And it was all deserved.'

I felt a little better. Perhaps it might be that some of the more unpleasant qualities my father had bequeathed me could, if contained, be turned to the good after all.

'"The vacuous and the vain",' he murmured, and I winced, but he was nodding in what I began to suspect might be admiration. 'How do you manage to alliterate spontaneously?' He stood up straight and looked at me. 'Well. Are you coming back?'

There was, when I came to think about, a certain absurdity to the pair of us lurking in a corridor. I straightened up too and ran my hand through my hair. 'It is tempting simply to go home, Aragorn,' I laughed, knowing that I would not.

'You are not the only one so tempted!' He smiled back. 'If you come back with me now,' he added patiently, 'it will be plain to all that there is no breach between us, and that you have my support, as indeed you always do.'

So we went back together and, from our easy conversation and good humour, I think it was indeed plain that there was no rift between the King and the Prince of Ithilien. And, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the King of Rohan looking at me thoughtfully.

Besides striking some fear into the hearts of people who were, I think, somewhat too easily cowed, there was another, more satisfactory outcome to my outburst. For I woke the next morning to find that I had at last come to a decision about what to do with my silver ring.

When I became steward and took possession of the house, I cleared out much and, in a fit of black humour, I had a small bonfire. Several people looked on this with alarm, but I felt much better for it. They say that a funeral is more for those who remain than those who have gone, and there had been no funerals for my father and my brother, and I did not remember my mother's. My little fire, then, served a number of purposes. And onto it I cast some of my father's books - not many, and only from those which he had signed, and of which I had other copies. This rather restrained act of vengeance caused a little more alarm - or perhaps it was the relish with which I tore off the covers - but I felt a great sense of release watching those pages curl and char, as if something of my father's hold upon me had been broken.

I had come to feel much the same about this ring, but there were other considerations. It was an heirloom of my family, going back even before Mardil, before we became the Ruling Stewards. And so it should go from me to my son, for he in turn would, one day, hold the office of Steward, as I did, and as my father had done, and his before him. Destroying it, then, would have been an injustice, denying my son what would be his by right and, I thought, an insult to my forefathers, including Denethor, who had through the long years, been so steadfast.

So I had the ring melted down, and from the silver I had a new seal made, but set it in wood, and I kept it on my desk to use. I liked this change for other reasons too, for we were, by the grace of the Valar, no longer Ruling Stewards and, as the office had changed, so too should its symbol. And so it seemed to me that something with the past had at last been broken, but not that which was good and mattered. This device pleased me enough that I had another made, for I was indeed also Prince of Ithilien, with another set of duties in that name, and I had it set with that seal. I was very fortunate, I thought, to be in a position to do this, for history and tradition had always mattered much to me, and to be able to make a new custom was an honour for me, and a tribute to my fathers, whose diligence in their duty had earned me my title. But I preferred the seal set in wood, for it seemed to me that, between us, my father, my brother and I had had little success with rings.

But these were matters for the future. For at the start of May I was content simply to quit Minas Tirith, cross the river for Ithilien, and at last take my son and daughter home. And as we came towards Emyn Arnen, I felt I had a great deal for which to be thankful. My children were alongside me, I was in the best health that I would ever be, I had begun to build a new life, and I hoped above all that she was happy in hers.

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A/N: Thank you so much to Isabeau and Kshar who, between them, helped me find out what had to be done with the silver ring, which has been a burden if not comparable to that poor Frodo carried, then something bloody close. And thank you to the Episcopal Witch, for making me think through more thoroughly what Faramir would think about all his relatives knowing he was ill.

Thank you for reading and reviewing!

Altariel