Author's note: Hey! The reviews are great, as usual. Keep sending them in! Chapter 10 will have more Faramir and Ariaelle. It's not the end yet, there's still a lot to come! Faramir's diary entry is in the fanfic 'Past and Remembered', if you want to check that out. Thanks for supporting my writing!

Escape

It was quiet except for the occasional snort of a bad tempered horse. To my surprise, the stables were not made of white stone, but of wood, in which intricate designs were laid. The stench of sweaty horses was overpowering and I rushed to my stallion. I was to leave immediately and would permit no delay.

Briskly, I saddled Valiaen, pausing only to check whether my sword was still beneath his blanket. I had also taken that during my time in Imladris. My father and brother knew nothing of the stolen clothing and weapons.

The sword hung in its scabbard, its plain hilt protruding from beneath the horse's blanket. I readjusted the saddle blanket and flung the saddlebags on top. Wiping my tear-stained cheek with my sleeve, I led Valiaen out of the stables.

The guards barely noticed me as I left the White City. My clothing and appearance gave them the impression that I was just another wee lad.

I rode out onto the fields of the Pelennor. Ushering Valiaen into a canter and then gallop, I enjoyed the feeling of freedom and the wind on my face. I had no sense of where I was going. I only knew that I wasn't going back.

My father had never, ever loved me. He had never wanted to see how I felt about his actions. He accused me of everything unhappy that had befallen him since my birth. Since he discovered the secret in my eyes.

The tears started again as my steed rushed on. The sun was setting, spreading an incandescent glow across the sky. Still, I rode on. Night followed and finally, I slowed Valiaen down.

I dismounted and patted the horse. He blinked, enjoying it in a lazy manner. Gently, he nudged me on the shoulder. An elvish horse understood his master just as Valiaen understood me. He could sense my worry and discomfort. Softly, he nickered, and I turned away.

It was then that I knew that I would have to go back. Sooner or later, I would have to return to the White City. I had no food, no shelter nor protection. I was lost. Perhaps I wouldn't be able to return on my own.

I glanced around and frowned. I was surrounded by forest. How long had it been since I passed the fields? Where had I ventured? I was too upset to notice my own foolishness.

I hurried back to Valiaen. He was munching on various plants, taking care to choose only the tasty plants unmarked by territory markers. When he noticed my arrival, he took an extra large mouthful, so I would have to wait if I decided to mount. I didn't want to hurt his stomach. He snorted when I only patted his soft nose and made no move to remount.

"What do I do now?" I asked him softly.

After some thoughtful chewing, he butted me playfully in the stomach. I laughed and hugged him tightly. He snorted again.

"What did that mean?" I said.

Ignoring me, he proceeded to eat all the foliage around him. I looked around. Night had fallen and it was nearly dark. I could barely see my way through the forest.

Should I set up camp? Would it attract attention? Who would notice? Would anyone? I decided that I'd make a small fire and rest until dawn. Then, I would head back to Minas Tirith. It sounded like a good plan, except for the fact that I would have to face my father again.

Did he even care that I was gone? Did he even notice?

I unsaddled Valiaen and put the bags and saddle against a tree. I told him to stay put while I collected some dry wood for a fire. As I wandered off, I thought I heard a small noise. Ignoring it, I picked up a few sticks and returned to my mount.

I laid the logs in the dirt and picked up two stones. I struck one against the other. At length, a fire sparked. Gently, I blew to help it grow. Then, I backed away and prodded it with a long stick.

"Valiaen," I said softly. He trotted towards me and I stood. I touched his bridle. "I'm going to leave this on. Is that all right with you?" The bit wasn't comfortable for a horse, but the elvish style was easier on the pressure. He nickered and I heard the noise again.

And then I heard a bird call. It was answered. I spun around, trying to find the source of the sound. In panic, I grabbed the bags roughly and set them on Valiaen. Well trained, he stood still, not even tempted by the lush grass. I saddled him as quickly as possible and kicked the firewood. The flames dissipated almost immediately. I mounted and urged Valiaen into a soft walk.

Another call to my right. And another to my left. Valiaen sped up. My surroundings whirled before me. I hadn't rested, as Faramir had said. Perhaps these were the effects he had tried to put to a standstill.

Suddenly, Valiaen reared and pawed the air in front of him. I gasped and nearly fell off. When I had gained control of him, he calmed down on all fours.

I stopped him and patted his flanks. He was turning his head anxiously from side to side. I tried to calm myself down. But it was no use, I was bathed in sweat and feeling chilled. I couldn't think straight.

Without warning, a cold voice came from the shadows. "What business do you seek in Ithilien?"

Valiaen backed up and through the little light, I could see the Rangers dressed in hue. All bows were strung and all arrows pointed to Valiaen and I.

"What business do you seek here?" said the voice again. Most Rangers pulled a little tighter on their weapons, ready to let them loose.

Finally, I succumbed to the calls of the dark. I slipped off Valiaen and fell to the ground in a crumpled heap.

And all went dark as I passed out.

***************************************************

I awoke with a start to find myself in a comfortable bed and white sheets. I was in a small room, much like Faramir's room in the White City. It was quite cool and I was thankful for all the blankets. A desk sat forgotten to my right. To my left was an adjoining room. There were many books on shelves and on the desk were scattered parchments, quills and ink.

I pushed myself into an upright position. "Hello?" I said softly.

There was no answer. I turned my senses to an alert stage. I wasn't to be fooled again.

Where were the Rangers? I couldn't be in Minas Tirith. The atmosphere was so much more hidden and secretive. Minas Tirith was more of a crowded place.

I no longer felt dizzy but quite happy and content for no reason. Maybe I was going mad. Why would I be happy? For all I knew, this could be a prisoner's cell.

I checked myself for anything they might have done to me. My healer's pendant was still there, but my daggers had been taken. My belt had been taken off to loosen my breeches. I was not hurt save for a few bruises from my fall.

Next to me was a bedside counter. A candle lay there and a book. The book was leather bound and quite small. The cover was plain, with no design nor name.

Curiosity took over and I picked up the book. I turned it around in my hand, feeling its smooth surface. Finally, I opened it to the first page.

First Entry:

I was the Captain of the Ithilien Rangers. It was a worthy position in Gondor's army, given to me by my father. But I did not receive my Captaincy because of battle prowess.

I was a poet, a dreamer, and a musician. I was a lover of the arts.

And yet, I was also a soldier. My strength with the bow was good and my firing accurate. My blade was elven-made, a present from my brother, Boromir. It was more slender than Gondorian blades, so I had another made for common use in Ithilien.

My father was the Steward of Gondor, and my brother, the heir. I loved them and my mother. But my father was different.

Sometimes, I wish that I had another father. I would rather give up my status and have a loving father, than be in the position that I was in now.

My father loved my brother and not I. It was obvious. Even in our names, you could tell. 'Boromir' meant 'Mighty Jewel.' 'Faramir' meant 'Sufficient Jewel.'

Through the words he spoke and the actions he commanded, I could tell he loved me not. My captaincy meant my banishment from court. There was no more need for him to deal with me and my "excuses." He would no longer have to see my face and feel the disappointment I evoked.

What did I do?

Nothing. I let him be. I let him discourage and push me lower than Boromir. It was his personality and his nature that influenced his actions. After all, he was the Steward and Ruler of Gondor.

I sank into depression more than often and my worrying would make me ill and weary.

Faramir of Gondor

I blinked. Was this Faramir's diary? This was treason. Were the brothers planning to take the throne together, or was it just their way of expressing anger?

And yet, I had to feel bad for the second son of the Steward. He wasn't favored, nor loved. But he still respected his father and brother. How horrible to know that your father wanted to banish you so much, he wouldn't do it outright. He'd let you suffer with a better title.

I wondered if he had left it here by accident.

Just then, the door opened. The book dropped from my hands and onto the blankets. My hand rested on the leather cover. I looked up.

Faramir strode in, two guards behind him. His eyes widened when he saw me, and his expression was of pure fear when he saw what I'd done.

He's left it here by accident.

It was filled with treason.

And I had read it all.