A/N- Professor Tolkien owns everything, I own nothing. This is bookverse, but inspired by the movie. Faramir is sent to retrieve the Crown of Gondor.
The Crown
He would ever be known as Elessar Elfstone, King of Gondor, in the annals of the history of Men. Aragorn was a man of great deeds and courage, a leader with heart, and a healing hand. A man the people of Gondor could look to during times of need.
Faramir only wished he could have done more during battle of the Pelennor, and especially when the host lead by Aragorn left for the Black Gate. He had been left in the House of Healing, to watch and wait, and to sit briefly as Steward of Gondor while its uncrowned King rode to war.
And now he walked along the Silent Street to Rath Dínen, to the House of the Dead. As he entered the mountain side, the door to the House of Stewards stood sealed.
He had no memory of being there, though it had been told to him that Denethor had burned himself behind the doors. Faramir didn't want to believe that his father would have lost so much of his former self to try and burn them both together. But it had been Gandalf who told him, and Faramir had no reason not to believe the wizard.
It was small consolation that Denethor had not been taken by the persuasion of Sauron, whereas Saruman, a powerful wizard, had. Denethor was strong-willed and stubborn. Faramir would know.
Faramir entered the House of the Dead. The great Gondorian Kings of old lay buried and undisturbed, unaware of the perils their descendants had faced.
Carved statues stood at the entrance of each tomb, bearing likeness of the man resting within. Faramir struggled to keep his focus ahead of him. The silence of the hall combined with the white, ghostly statues gave the street an unearthly feel.
At the very end of the hall was a pedestal made of marble. Resting on a soft pillow was a crown, the crown of Gondor.
It had been unneeded for nearly one thousand years.
Faramir stopped before the crown and gazed at it. Only a fine layer of dust marred the white circlet. It was adorned with wings whose feathers were outstretched as if in flight. Each feather was detailed in pearls, and seven adamant stones were set around the circlet. In the front was a larger jewel, white to his eyes now, but would burst into a flame-color in the light.
It was enough to bring tears to the eyes of a Dwarf.
The crown held such an aura that Faramir was nearly afraid to touch it, as if he would mar its purity. Instead, he lifted the blue pillow and carried the crown from Rath Dínen.
There was one individual who would care for it until the crowning ceremony, and that person was Gimli, son of Glóin. The Dwarf was particularly interested in the crown simply because of therumors of its magnificence.
Faramir hurried past the hallway of the House of Stewards and on up the steep path back to the citadel. Gimli awaited him at the Closed Door. The sun caught the jewel as he approached the Dwarf; his mouth fell agape and his eyes widened.
"Such a magnificent piece is truly worthy of a King," Gimli finally murmured, "Truly worthy of Aragorn."
"Indeed, though he wears Kingship without the crown. That is the mark of a true King," Faramir said, remembering the faces of the statues, "Aragorn will bring Gondor back into Her former glory, strong with Her allies, and true to Her people. No Steward was ever worthy of the crown."
Gimli was quiet a moment as he reflected Faramir's words.
"Come," he finally said, "All it needs is a good polishing. One only a Dwarf can give."