At the appointed time Faramir returned to Aragorn's study, suited for a ride but wearing no emblem. When Aragorn entered Faramir hardly knew who had walked in. It was a transformation from the most powerful mortal man alive to one looking extraordinarily way-worn, but much more comfortable than he had in days.
Aragorn wore no symbols either and when he drew up his cloak about him there was no telling him from any one of the rangers currently in Minas Tirith. "Let's go. If we use the back door of the stables we have a good chance of not being seen at all."
Faramir nodded in agreement. "To where are we riding?"
"Amon Dîn over night?"
Faramir smiled, the idea sounding terrific to him. One thing he missed more than anything about his patrol in Ithilien was mornings in the wild. "Amon Dîn," he said in confirmation.
The two men made their way out from the city unobserved, and when they passed through the make-shift gate on the first level Aragorn prodded his horse into a gallop as though he was fleeing for freedom. Faramir laughed and brought his charger to a racing speed too, not for the sake of catching up Aragorn, but only to feel the rush of freedom that was inherent in riding a charging horse over an open plain such as the Pelennor. Aragorn didn't slow down until they were in sight of the Greywood.
He and Faramir laughed freely, feeling somehow victorious and uninhibited. Both felt greatly more liberated than they had even since the passing of the Shadow. Aragorn cried out as loud as he possibly could, just because no one was around to hear.
"I don't know about you, but i feel great," Aragorn said with a huge smile to Faramir.
Faramir laughed appreciatively. "I haven't felt so good since before Boromir departed last summer." Faramir's laughter abated then, though he was still in high spirits. For years Boromir had been the one person other than Gandalf that Faramir could talk to, and when his brother left for Rivendell Faramir had sensed that their parting was a final one. Now, though, he found himself able to laugh again and thought that perhaps the future he had long awaited was finally come.
As they rode through Greywood toward Amon Dîn the sun began to make it's way downward to the western side of the world. The ride through the wood was peaceful and comfortable to the two rangers, almost in contrast to the energetic freedom they felt riding out from the city unnoticed and unaccompanied. Faramir could easily tell that Aragorn enjoyed the presence of forest birds and small peaceable creatures as much as he always had himself.
Ahead in the distance Aragorn spotted a clearing and they decided to make camp for the night. The smell of a campfire in the cool night air brought a sense of right to Aragorn and he was happy to enjoy it without constantly looking over his shoulder for a change. For the first time in years, Aragorn was feeling relaxed.
He searched through his pack for his pipe and pouch and settled back against the body of a large fallen tree. Faramir had stretched out where he had a good view of the clear night sky, an arm behind his head. There was quiet in the small glade and neither man missed the noise of the city, nor even the proper meal they would have eaten a couple hours earlier.
After a while Faramir turned to Aragorn, an awful thought having just come to him. "Do you think we should have left word with someone?"
Aragorn just shook his head. "Let them worry for a few hours. Too much comfort weakens a person," he said wryly. He was silent for a moment then, as if contemplating continuing. "Tell me of all that i have missed over the years, Faramir. How old were you when you took up the sword and bow?"
"In earnest? I was thirteen. Apparently that is a late age to begin."
Aragorn shrugged. "Everyone is different. At what age did you learn to read?"
Faramir's smile was at once both sad and proud. "I began to read in my fifth year. My mother taught me just before she died."
"And you have been studying ever since?" Aragorn asked, yet he already knew the answer.
"You could say that," Faramir chuckled quietly. "Boromir used to laugh that if shooting an arrow only required the use of one hand that i would be reading a book with the other."
"That's excellent. I am rather envious of all the time you have had with the White Tower's library all to yourself. What have you enjoyed learning of the most?"
"Westernesse," Faramir replied without hesitation. "Everything from its beginning until the island collapsed into the sea has fascinated me ever since mother used to tell me the stories, as have the tales of Eärendil." Faramir again found the star in the glittering multitude. "It is extraordinary to think that that star is a silmaril of Feanor's craft, bound to Eärendil who sails his ship through the heavens as he did the sea."
Aragorn smiled reflectively, also finding the star again. "Númenor is in your very blood, Faramir. As is Eärendil."
A questioning look crossed Faramir's face as a realization came to him. "Do i then share in the long life of those with Númenórean blood?"
"Indeed, and it is my hope that we shall have out our long years together. Since the rank of Captain of the Ithilien Rangers is in need of filling now that you are Steward, who do you think most capable of the office?"
Faramir paused for a moment in thought, though not of candidates for the captaincy. This was the first time to his recollection that he had ever been consulted about promoting one of his men. Denethor used to promote them without even telling Faramir, causing Faramir untold grief every time a man turned up performing a different office and wearing different insignia from the day before.
Denethor had known of their abilities little better than Aragorn would have, and Faramir knew much about each of his men that would have helped in properly placing them. How many times had Faramir found men promoted based on their father's name who had utterly no desire to be in command, while those who were hopeful of advancing and worthy of it were left behind. 'Small wonder i couldn't hold Osgiliath,' Faramir thought. 'It was as though he intentionally set me up to fail.'
Yet here Aragorn was asking his opinion, working with him, taking time to talk to him as father and son, rather than commander and soldier. It so happened that Faramir had a recommendation for the position already and they agreed that, providing the soldier accepted, it was a decided matter. Faramir took his Stewardship of Gondor seriously and intended to see to it that its army was comprised of soldiers who wanted to defend the kingdom and were happy at their posts.
"Tell me, father, what shall happen if you do not have another heir who the people can call their king one day? We have decided to keep our secret as such for their good, but would it be best to reveal..." Faramir trailed off briefly. "If you passed and it was left to me to claim the crown they would probably lynch me for trying to usurp the kingdom."
Aragorn laughed dryly. "The people of Gondor have always been a little quick-tempered about who claims to lead them. If you think it best for the future that we be up front with them, against the possibility of unforeseen complications...."
"I really don't want to be titled your heir, to be honest. I don't want the crown to fall to me, i would rather they do not have any clue that it should."
Aragorn unreservedly beamed to hear such words as he himself had often spoken come from his son. "You are too much like to me. Though i promise you that i will do my best to see that you are not stuck with such an inheritance as i am. Speaking of which, has any fine, fortunate lady caught your attention yet, my son?"
