Hey lucky you, you get two chapters in one night! Sorry for not updating a lot, but with Christmas coming I haven't had a lot of time.

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            Faramir, Mablung, Damrod, and Jirnlen rode quickly toward Minas Tirith. Faramir had sent the other Rangers to Osgiliath, but he knew that he must hurry to the White City to speak with the Steward. After Frodo and Sam, and their guide Gollum, had left, Faramir felt in his soul that haste was needed.

            As they neared the City, a shrill cry spread fear through the four men. Looking upward, Faramir shuddered at the sight of Black Riders atop great, dark birds. The same chill felt months ago in Osgiliath at the sight of the Dark Horsemen filled him and he urged his horse into a gallop, the others following. Jirnlen let out a call from his horn, announcing to the city that Faramir had come and was in need of help. Yet as they rode through the Pelennor, no man issued forth from the Gate, all were terrified of the Black Riders. Horror filled Faramir as the Rider screeched again and his three companions were thrown from their frightened steeds. Overcoming his own fear, he rode back to his men, grabbing at the loose horses, trying to calm them while keeping his own horse in line. Mablung tried desperately to remount his stallion, failing as the horse continued to buck. Jirnlen and Damrod were having trouble too. Faramir felt helpless as the Black Riders continued to harass them. Suddenly a flash of white came from the North, a man in white on a beautiful white horse. The Black Riders swerved away from the radiant light the man put forth.

            Faramir rode up to the man, staring in shock as he realized that the man was Mithrandir! Yet the Grey Pilgrim he was no longer, for he was robed in white and silver, no longer hunched over like an old man, but straight and powerful. However, Faramir had no time to ask about the change for he needed to get his men into the City. Now that the Black Riders were gone, men issued out of the city to help the grounded men.

            Mithrandir and Faramir rode side by side into Minas Tirith, crowds shouting their names. Faramir vaguely wondered why his name was called along with Mithrandir, he had done nothing. But in his fatigue he could not think well. The hard ride had taxed his strength and as he dismounted, he swayed a little. Suddenly a strange voice called out his name. Faramir turned, and to his surprise he saw a hobbit wearing the White Tree, like a guard of the Tower. "Whence came you? A halfling, and in the livery of the Tower! Whence... ?"

            Mithrandir didn't let him finish his question. "He came here with me from the land of the Halflings. But let us not tarry here. There is much to say and to do and you are weary. He shall come with us. Indeed he must, for if he does not forget his new duties more easily than I do, he must attend on his lord again within this hour. Come, Pippin, follow us!" //Pippin? Perhaps his is one of the kinsmen Frodo mentioned. But he said there were two didn't he? Where is the other then? And this one in Father's service?// Faramir smiled at the image of this halfling serving his father. //Perhaps Father thought to get information from him. Well, if this one is anything like his kinsman, Father did not find out much.//

            //Even with Boromir gone, I still will not sit on his right hand.// thought Faramir sadly as he sat on Denethor's left side. Soon he reported his doings in Ithilien, of the Battle with the Southrons, of Sauron's movements. Finally Faramir decided it was time to mention Frodo and Sam. "It is strange indeed to see a halfling here in my father's service, for this is not the first that I have seen walking out of northern legends into the Southlands." Mithrandir's hands visibly whitened on his staff. Pippin seemed to want to say something, but Mithrandir's look silenced him. Faramir told of his meeting with the two hobbits and Gollum. Mithrandir seemed truly troubled, especially when Faramir mentioned that they had gone to Cirith Ungol.

            "Cirith Ungol? Morgul Vale? What time did you part with them, Faramir? When would they reach that accursed valley?"

            "I parted with them two days ago. It is fifteen leagues to the vale of the Morgulduin, if they went straight south. Then they would be five leagues westward of the Tower. If they traveled at their fastest, they could not come there before today, and maybe haven't come there yet. I know what you fear, but the darkness is not due to their venture for it began yesterday and all Ithilien was under shadow last night. The Enemy has long planned this assault on us, and at this appointed time. The halflings' journey had nothing to do with it."

            "How far is the place where you parted with them?"

            "Twenty-five leagues as the bird flies, but I could not have come more swiftly. Yesterday we were at Cair Andros, the long island in the River northward which we hold in defense, for the horses are kept on the hither bank. I knew that haste was needed, so I rode with three others that could be horsed to return here. The rest of my company I sent to Osgiliath to strengthen the defense there. I hope that I have not done ill." Faramir looked at his father as he said this.

            Denethor's eyes flashed. "Ill? Why do you ask, for the men were under your command. Do you ask for my judgement on all your deeds? Your demeanor is lowly in my presence yet you have never turned from your own way to heed my counsel. You speak skillfully, yet your eyes rest on Mithrandir as if to ask whether you say too much! Long has he held your respect and trust." //You cannot speak to your elves, so you seek the wisdom of the next best thing. A wizard.// "My son, I am old but not blind. I can see and hear, and little of what you have half said or left unsaid is hidden from me. I know the answer to many riddles. Alas for Boromir!"

            Faramir knew he was on rocky ground. One misstep would cause an ugly outburst. He did not wish for the young hobbit to see the man to whom he had sworn allegiance with his anger unchecked. From experience, it was not a pretty sight. "If what I have done displeases you, Father, then I am sorry. But I truly wish I had heard your counsel before the burden of this judgement was forced on me."

            "Would you have listened to me? You would have done just as you did. I know you well. Ever your desire is to appear kind and generous as a king of old, gracious, gentle. Maybe one of the high race can do so, if he sits in power and peace, but in these desperate hours gentleness may be repaid with death."

            "So be it." //I do not care if I die for being a fair and honorable man. I would be as Ada is, not as you are, Father.//

            "So be it! But not only would you die, Faramir, but so would I and all of your people who you are sworn to protect now that Boromir is gone."

            "Do you wish that our places had been exchanged and I had died in his stead?" //Valar, what made me ask that? Don't answer, please don't answer.//

            "Yes I wish you had, for Boromir was no student of wizards and elves. He would have known the need of our people and not let hope slip through his fingers. He would have brought me a powerful gift." Faramir felt despair rise in him. He knew his father did not like him, yet it still hurt to hear Denethor's words. //He truly wishes me dead.//

            Faramir couldn't take it anymore. Denethor could hate him all he wanted, but he would not let him place the blame of Boromir's death on him. "You need to remember, Father, who it was that let Boromir go to Imladris, instead of me. That time I listened to your counsel. It was you, the Lord of the City, who gave Boromir that errand!"

            "Do not tell me what I already know and regret! The son I love is dead and all I am left with is you!" Denethor and Mithrandir then began arguing, over Boromir and the Ring, but Faramir did not listen. The anger and hatred in his father's voice pierced his heart more than a dagger ever could. Faramir glanced up at the halfling, Pippin. The poor hobbit seemed so confused. Faramir gave him a weak smile, which Pippin returned. The Captain saw the hobbit's bewilderment at Denethor's actions towards his son. //If you only knew, little one. If you only knew the demon in Steward's clothing that appears when I am around. I wish you did not have to find it out. I am sorry that you see this.//

            Faramir saw Pippin's gaze return to Denethor, and so he tried to pay attention to what his father was saying. "In what time we have left, let all of us who fight the Enemy in their fashion, fight, and perhaps keep hope while they can, and after hope is gone, let them keep the will to die free." The Steward turned to Faramir, unaware of the pain in his son's eyes. "How is the garrison at Osgiliath?"

            "It is not strong, though I have sent the company of Ithilien to strengthen it, as I said before."

            "I do not believe that that is enough. It is there, that the first blow will fall. They need a stouthearted captain there."

            "A good captain is needed everywhere it seems. Alas for my brother, who I too loved!" Faramir stood. "May I have your leave, Father?" His weariness from his journey and from his father's words caused him to sway and lean upon Denethor's chair.

            "I see you are tired. You rode fast and far, and under evil shadows in the air."

            "Please let us not speak of that." Faramir couldn't handle remembering the foul beasts in the state he was in.

            "Then we will not. Go and rest. You will be needed tomorrow."

            Faramir stumbled down the hall. His feet and legs ached from holding him up, his head swam in fatigue. As Faramir pitched forward from weariness, a hand caught and steadied him. "You look like you are about to fall asleep on your feet, nephew."

            He looked up at Prince Imrahil, who he hadn't seen in many years. "It is good to see you again, Uncle."

            "Let me help you to your room."

            Faramir shook his head in protest. "No. Some of my Rangers died in the battle against the Haradrim. I need to tell their families... "

            "Later, Faramir. If you do not get some rest, you are going to collapse." Not having the energy to argue, Faramir leaned on his uncle, who gently led him to his room. "Now rest. Morning will some soon enough, and you will be needed." Bidding Imrahil good night, Faramir shut the door, barely managing to remove his boots and shirt before collapsing on his bed, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

            It was close to midnight when Denethor stepped quietly into his son's room. //What made me say those things to him? I should not loose my temper like that, especially in front of Mithrandir. I cannot show that weakness.// Denethor stood at the foot of Faramir's bed, watching his son sleep. Faramir shivered, and for a moment, Denethor saw him as a small child, trembling at the Steward's hurtful words and brutal hand. Almost against his will, Denethor's heart softened. Covering Faramir with a blanket, the Steward stroked his son's hair, barely brushing it. "Good night, my son." Yet just as quickly as his heart had softened, it grew hard again. Denethor recoiled his hand and quickly left the room, not looking back.

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wow, I hadn't said anything when I posted before. Anyway, I've since seen ROTK and I feel that I actually didn't make Denethor as evil as he was there. I thought about rewriting this using the movies but decided not to.