Once back in the Citadel, Faramir near dragged himself to his desk. Fortunately, the room was very comfortable and Faramir enjoyed being there almost as much as he did being outdoors. He curled up on the floor in the quietest corner of the room near a window, an old habit he'd developed as a child, and began to read over the many various correspondences around him.
When a concerned maid brought him a noon meal he took his lunch at his desk, still reading missives from every land he'd ever heard of, save those of Beleriand, but he began to wonder if he wouldn't see a letter from Doriath in all this mess, sundered Westernesse didn't seem unlikely either. After lunch Faramir found his head propped up on his arm and fought off the pressing sleep that threatened him. Sleep eventually took the young Steward without his consent. Late that afternoon Glorfindel and Erestor found him sound asleep on a mound of parchment.
Erestor shook his head compassionately but Glorfindel took it for disapproval. "Do not dare to criticize him. He is but a boy," the fair-haired Glorfindel advised his raven-haired friend strongly.
"That was not criticism, mellon, i feel sorry for him. Can you imagine how confused he must be? You recall how often Boromir spoke of him when he was in Imladris. They must have been the best of friends, but now Faramir has lost that friend. He thought he lost his father, without ever once having pleased him. But then he finds that he has a father who is overjoyed to just know him. And now he is heading suddenly into paternity, and as you say, he is but a boy as we account it."
"Maybe we should take some of these letters? Do you think Estel would mind us helping him?" Glorfindel asked.
Erestor eyed him as if to say 'you are thoroughly impossible.' "I do not know what you decided to stay in this stone city for when you could have been heading back to Imladris. I, however, stayed to help this boy. If Elrond needed our assistance running our small valley realm, think what poor Faramir will need. There may be actual work for us to accomplish here."
Glorfindel was stopped short, but he was hardly surprised. "You are always thinking of work and what must be done next, are you not? I decided to stay because Minas Tirith is so like to Gondolin... but you would not remember that."
Erestor nodded very seriously. "Look, just because you have never exactly been an Elf of many letters.... Glor', how, pray tell, did you think all that work used to get done? It wasn't 'Elf magic,' i can tell you that!"
"Do you insult me?" Glorfindel said with sudden indignity.
"Never, mellon-nín," Erestor said, voice dripping with his distinguishing biting wit.
Glorfindel just shook his head, these exchanges far too familiar to mind any longer. "You do his paperwork, i intend to keep him distracted from these heavy thoughts of his by giving him a good run for his money with the dueling foil. He should be keeping up his skills with the sword as well as the pen."
Erestor mirrored Glorfindel's action and started to take some papers from a stack near Faramir. Faramir sat straight, waking suddenly at the nearby movement. Without warning the young Steward gripped the Elf's sleeve and pulled him forward, before he realized it was Elrond's chief counselor. He slowly released his grip, looking disoriented.
"Forgive me, Master Erestor, i thought you were...." Faramir trailed off still at a loss over what he had just envisioned.
"A thief?" Erestor said with a slight grin, straightening up again.
"No... I... I must go," Faramir said rising unsteadily. He looked the Elves concerned expressions. "My father trusts you both, does he not?"
"Of course he does, young Faramir," Glorfindel said, disquiet reflecting in his eyes.
"Good, the kingdom is in your care until we return." Faramir was quiet for a moment, looking as if he was reliving something dreadful. "I never should have let her go," he said running forth from his study.
The two advisors exchanged troubled glances and went after him. As was expected they found him in the stable, saddling his horse hastily. Glorfindel laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Do not try to stop me," Faramir said trying to concentrate on the horse. "It is my fault. I have to go."
"Faramir, just tell us where you are going," Glorfindel said steadily.
"To Éowyn," he said simply. "They can't have gone far, they won't even be through Druadan yet at the pace they were at."
"And how far will you get before nightfall, Faramir, as exhausted as you are?" Erestor asked rationally.
"I don't care. I will ride through the night. I have made a terrible mistake... i just did not know that it was so...." He stopped, choked with tears he refused to shed.
"Wait, Faramir, tell us what is going on before you go. You saw something in a dream, tell us" Glorfindel was much better at hiding his disapproval of Faramir's haste than Erestor, concealing it in gradual attempts to just delay the Steward.
"I saw Éowyn," Faramir said, his voice shaking against his will. "She must have been in Edoras, i recognized nothing. She was standing with a soldier, one of the Rohirrim by the look of his emblem." Faramir's breathing became labored. "He had her by her wrists -" he broke off, rage sweeping him.
"Faramir..." Erestor said calmly.
"I will delay no longer, my lord," Faramir said in fey voice, mounting his charger who reflected his master's impatience, pawing the floor and shaking his head furiously. Glorfindel and Erestor stepped aside just as Faramir's horse burst from his stable and galloped loudly out of the city.
Shaking their heads they walked back to the Citadel. Glorfindel glanced around the great Hall of Kings doubtfully.
"Reminds you of Gondolin, does it?" Erestor said. "Then the reins are all yours, and when the people of this city rise up and term us usurpers, do not call on me. After all, since you have such memories, you know very well what caused Gondolin's fall and the fall of all Beleriand."
Both advisors knew well that old demons die hard, but Glorfindel knew it better. Still, he was sure that Faramir would not succumb to what many of his kin did in the first age.
Sometime late in the night Glorfindel woke suddenly to a terrible realization. He had filled Faramir's waterskin with a mixture of fresh water and water from the Enchanted River when he saw Faramir preparing to go down to the river that morning. He had hoped that the Steward would take a sip and get some rest.
