Now things had come full circle. One early morning all those years ago, Aragorn had been in the same healing room watching the same peaceful slumber of his son. Now as the sun struggled to break passed Mordor's blackness, here he was again, captivated by this quiet one. Now, as before, he was preparing to leave his dear son in the presumably safe city while he went to face danger and possible death. With the thought of his possible death came the fear that no one would ever know that the line of Elendil who came from the West was not yet sundered.

Worse, much worse, was Aragorn's fear that Faramir might never know how much his father really loved him and how terribly sorry he was that his judgment of Denethor had been so wrong. Aragorn stared long at Faramir and wondered if he would be able to tell him, if they both survived the dark days ahead. And if he did make a clean breast, would it mean losing Faramir? Aragorn would rather keep the secret and forever wish for the love of his first born than he would do him any hurt or cause Faramir to hate him.

Aragorn remembered something Boromir said to him while they were in Lothlorien, it seemed so long ago. Boromir talked often of Faramir and always proudly, but in Lorien Boromir's concerns grew heavy. One evening as the only two Men for leagues around relaxed at the end of the day, Boromir spoke of hoping to return to Gondor if only to help keep Faramir's state of mind up. He spoke of how he hated the times when Faramir would withdraw from others and stay locked in his chambers for days. This worried Aragorn and when he asked Boromir further he responded by saying, "I only wish my little brother had his father to grow up with."

Aragorn was somewhat startled by how close to the mark the other man's words were, but he decided to pass it off as a symbolic statement more than anything. He wondered now though, had Boromir known something? If so, how did he learn it, and who else knew? Aragorn's fear was that Denethor had not been so deceived and had treated Faramir poorly because of the truth of his birth.

"It is time, Aragorn, for you to fight for him, and for all you love." The king-to-be jumped startled by the wizard's even voice.

"Gandalf, what if i never get to say goodbye to him?" Aragorn asked his wise friend in a rather unsteady voice.

"You are not the only one taking that risk this day. Many of the men now preparing for this march are leaving loved ones behind, and i can assure you that they are all now feeling as you are. I can not tell you what will come of this, but i can tell you that this is not the time to let slip your mind. Rather, hold what you know as a precious treasure, a reminder of what you are fighting for, just as you do Arwen's jewel."

Aragorn nodded, understanding perfectly. Gandalf glanced at Faramir and smiled as the young man began to wake. "I will leave you now. The companies shall await your command."

Faramir looked up at Aragorn and smiled, drawing the same from older man. "My king, I have heard from the nurses that you are leading the men to the Morannen. I would give anything to be well enough to ride with you."

"So would i, Faramir. It would ease my heart greatly to not have to leave you behind again. But for my part, i shall fight doubly hard, not only to see the fall of evil, but to return here safely to you. Though i can not speak for Éomer and Pippin, i feel sure that the case shall be the same for them. For you see, they too leave behind those dear to them."

Faramir nodded in acceptance. "They say that you go to the aid of Frodo and Sam, that your aim is to distract the armies of Mordor to allow them a free crossing of Gorgoroth. You are truly most noble, my King."

Aragorn shook his head though. "My part in aiding Frodo is no greater than yours was, Faramir. You knew well the penalty you should face if Denethor knew you had allowed them freedom from Henneth Annun. You are braver than many, Faramir."

Again Faramir smiled and offered his gratitude in the Elvish words, "Hannon le, aratan."

Aragorn's countenance lit up the small room more than any morning light could. "I am proud of you, Faramir. More proud than you know," said the older ranger softly as he removed from his belt a small, worn leather pouch. "Take this, Faramir. In it are five fresh athelas leaves. Since the others have been revived, you should only use maybe a half of a leaf, if the need should arise."

"I thank you, my Lord, but i have not your healing hands, only the King has such skill."

"I have put forth my skill to revive, you have enough skill to maintain them though. Simply give to them what comfort you may."

Faramir nodded, taking the pouch and bowing his head. "Farewell, my King," he said as the two men clasped arms in solidarity.

"Farewell, Faramir. I will see you after," Aragorn replied, pulling Faramir into a hug that neither felt willing to break from.

"You are a man of your word. I trust you, Lord Aragorn."

"And i you," Aragorn said as he left Faramir's room. "I trust you with all, my son," he added out of ear-shot, a tear running down his face.