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Many leagues away, in the citadel of the White City of Minas Tirith, the steward Denethor was holding counsel with his two sons. He would have preferred to speak with Boromir alone, but he knew that Faramir was a man more learned in lore, and it might be that lore would find some path where valour in battle could not. His eldest son was speaking now and Denethor listened with pride, although the words filled him with foreboding and anxiety.
"The people of Osgiliath grow weary of the instability in Gondor. A small group, but growing every day, speak openly of leaving Osgiliath and finding a land unoccupied that they may claim for their own. They desire a steward no longer, but a King. They believe that the return of the King will cause the land to become stable and prosperous once more"
"They believe that some relic of Numenor may take them back to its former glory," Denethor said contemplatively. "And this may well be the case. Or if not to glory, then to a lasting peace. Whether the people of Osgiliath will it or no, there is no king to be found," Denethor said, with a tone in his voice that meant the avenue of discussion was over. "The line of Elendil has failed. There are no more sea kings to come to our aid now. The rule of the stewards must not fail. Faramir. What news from Ithilien?"
Faramir was still dressed as a ranger of Ithilien, he had returned from duty only this morning.
"The only travellers in the wood are groups of two or three, travelling from place to place. All is quiet and as peaceful as can ever be in the shadow of yonder - " he pointed to the east as he spoke and Denethor nodded.
"Very well. Go now and leave me to my thoughts. Yet do not stray too far, or sleep too deep. I may have need of you both before the day is through."
Together the brothers left Denethor's chamber, their footsteps echoing as they moved away. When they finally came out into the light, Boromir turned to his brother and clasped his shoulders, searching his face anxiously. Then he embraced Faramir closely.
"Welcome home, brother," he smiled. Then, looking into his younger brother's face again, he sighed once, quick and angry. "He pushes you too hard, Faramir. You are weary. Go, sleep"
"I am indeed weary, dear brother," Faramir said. "And yet sleep does not call to me yet and may not for many long nights. Come, I must speak with you."
Puzzled and intrigued, Boromir lead Faramir to his own chambers and they sat at a low table. Boromir poured goblets of fine wine for them and they ate some rough, floury bread as they sat. Faramir was silent as he ate, his face fixed in a mask of concentration. Occasionally, he would look over at Boromir as though he was trying to come to some conclusion. Finally, when the bread and wine were gone, Faramir spoke.
"Boromir, there is a rumour in the wild which I have not told to father. I wished first to speak with you and gain your advice and opinion, for I am not at all sure what I should do"
"Come, brother. Be at ease and speak your mind," Boromir said.
"I know not whether what I have heard is anything more than an idle rumour to stir unease within Gondor, or whisperings of truth from some source of knowledge we cannot access," Faramir began, looking steadfastly at his brother. "And that was why I said nothing to father. I did not wish to add to his troubles without consulting you"
"Well?" Boromir asked. "Truly I am intrigued, little brother. What are these whisperings"
"It is said in the land of Ithilien that a direct descendant of Elendil yet lives," Faramir said quietly. In the silent room, his words seemed to hang in the air between the two sons of the steward, uniting them in their confusion and silent contemplation. "I would think it all naught if I had not heard Mithrandir speak some years ago of a ranger of the wild who was noble beyond his circumstances and bore a ring of mighty lineage. I did not think it at the time, but I believe now that I was being given some clue to a greater knowledge that was then beyond my ken. Boromir, what if that ring was the ring of Barahir?"
Boromir looked at his brother for a long moment. Faramir seemed utterly serious and that made Boromir pause. He knew that Faramir was learned in the myths of their land, that his brother's knowledge far outstripped his own. Even he though, knew of the Ring of Barahir.
"Why should this ranger and his ring be connected with the rumours of a king, though?" Boromir asked.
"I do not know," Faramir sighed. "I know only that when I heard the rumours of a king my mind turnedto the words of Mithrandir, words I have not considered in a long time. I am sure that they are one and the same man and that he is the rightful king of Gondor seems ever more likely to me as I turn my thought to the matter"
"Why though?" Boromir asked. "Why should it be so"
"I do not know, and I cannot explain," Faramir said regretfully. "It is just a thought that haunts me lately"
"This information, whether true or no is valuable and dangerous," Boromir said softly. "Should the people believe that a King of Numenor will return to them, it could push us closer to a civil war. There are those who oppose the return of the line of Elendil, brother. Let us not forget that"
"What would father do, do you imagine?" Faramir asked. Boromir thought for a long moment and then spoke.
"I think that he would not believe you. And I think that if you were proved right, he would do his duty as Steward, but grudgingly and not without long debates to ascertain the truth of the man's claim to the throne"
"He would not believe me," Faramir agreed. "Do you?" At his brother's silence, Faramir spoke again with ashort laugh. "Come, brother. You need not fear any anger or petulance if you do not agree. After all, I told you of this in order that I could hear your own opinion on the matter"
"That was not why I paused," Boromir said. "I think that I do believe you. I think that part of me wants to believe it is true, part of me wants to disbelieve it, but deep down, I cannot help but believe you"
"Why do you want to disbelieve it?" Faramir asked.
"Well," said Boromir, "there are many reasons and some are selfish. I shall tell you those first. Our father is a fine ruler of this city, even in these, its mnost troubled days since the great darkness. I should be loth to see his rule ended. And for myself, I have always expected one day to lead these fine people, and have had many thoughts on how I could improve our welfare. Also, I fear to believe this news because in my heart of hearts, I desire a leader. We are Stewards, not Kings Faramir, and a Steward must have a King to serve, not only a memory. If I believe this and it is proved false, it shall be a trial to endure indeed. The same is true of those people of Osgiliath and Ithilien and all other lands of our realm. Should they hear and come to believe these whispers and then have the hope of a King denied them, they shall almost without a doubt revolt and blood will run in the streets. Gondor's blood, spilt by Gondor's own men"
"I share all of your views as ever, dear brother," Faramir agreed. "And yet for myself, I believe the rumours. It is only that I do not know what I should do now. Father will not believe me"
"He will not," Boromir agreed. "He may though believe the two of us"
"You would speak alongside me in this matter?" Faramir asked, astonished and delighted.
"And all others, Faramir. If the hope of my heart did not lead me to believe this idea, then your own conviction would be more than enough to persuade me. You have a different sight from other men, Faramir, and seldom have you been wrong before in matters of the uncertain and the hidden. We shall go to father, but we shall keep the information between the two of us until such a time as we can gain a private audience with father"
"Most beloved brother," Faramir smiled. "Truly you are a joy in my life"
"And you likewise," Boromir said, smiling openly and honestly at his brother. "Now though, I must use my seniority in years to give you one order"
"And what would that order be?" Faramir asked.
"Go to your bed," Boromir commanded. They laughed and then stood and embraced once more before Faramir walked the short distance to his own chamber and fell onto the bed fully clothed, asleep almost as his head hit the pillow.
Although the brothers were several rooms apart, their thoughts, whether waking or sleeping, were ever on the heir of Elendil and the return of the King.
To their frustration, it was several days before their father could grant them an audience. Faramir thought privately that had he gone to their father alone, it would have taken many weeks for such an opportunity. The thought no longer caused him any grief, though. He had long ago accepted that Boromir was and ever would be the favoured son. He had been the favoured boy and now he was the favoured man. Faramir respected his father as a leader and a man, but felt no love for him, other than the love of every soldier for their leader. There had never been any connection between the two of them.
As a child, it had often caused Faramir grief and he could remember several occassions in his eighth year, when Boromir had entered his teens, that he had lain in bed, his narrow, child's shoulders shaking with his sobs. Boromir had said, though not begrudgingly, that their mother had preferred Faramir and doted on him. Faramir could not remember his mother except as a dim memory of loveliness and a fair voice singing in the deeps of sleep. That had been when his father's cold attitude had ceased to cause Faramir such grief. He took comfort in the knowledge that one of his parents at least, had loved him and thought him worthy.
Whatever the circumstances, and however the audience with Lord Denethor had been gained, the day had finally arrived and Boromir and Faramir were sitting together in Faramir's chamber for a final discussion about how they would approach the topic. They had agreed that Boromir should present the information and it should seem as though Faramir had told him long ago of Mithrandir's words and that the connection should seem to have arisen in Boromir's mind. Boromir was not happy about this, hating to seem as though he might be basking in his father's favour. He could see the wisdom of it, though. Their father was more likely to be responsive to their words if they seemed to come from Boromir.
When they stood, they shook hands like soldiers before a battle and then laughed at themselves and together they walked to their father's hall. The aisle that led to the throne and the chair of the steward no longer held any fear or trepidation for Faramir, as he knew quite well what welcome he would receive. For Boromir though, it was a torture. He had to endure the proud weight of his father's stare as he walked, and to know that without even a thought, Denethor had dismissed Faramir from the situation. He might as well not have existed. Boromir loved his brother dearly and to see him treated thus wounded him, especially since Faramir had done nothing that Boromir knew of to earn their father's contempt.
When they came before their father's chair, they both bowed low and then Faramir dropped back slightly while Boromir began to speak.
"Father, I beg leave to speak freely in front of you now and hope that if my thoughts seem foolish to you, you will not think any less of me"
"Never yet have I thought you foolish," Denethor smiled. "You may speak your mind, son"
"It is rumoured in some small parts of the land that an heir of Elendil lives. I thought nothing of the rumours, holding them to be falsehoods as all wisdom would dictate. However, some nights ago, something that my brother once told me came to my mind. Speak, Faramir"
"Some years ago, when Mithrandir was here last, he told me that he was riding forth to meet a mighty warrior, one of noble lineage but who lived as a humble ranger of the wilds. He said also that this warrior bore a ring of great and high history"
"On the night that the thought occurred to me, I went to Faramir and bade him tell me again what he could remember of Mithrandir's words. And I thought then father, might this not be the Ring of Barahir? And might this not be the same man who is now spoken of in our lands"
"And you, Faramir? What think you of this idea"
"I do not know, father. It is said that the heirs of Elendil became rangers in the wild, but there are many rings of great and high history in this world"
"My brother is not easily persuaded," Boromir lied, feeling like a youth again, wondering if the truth was printed across his face in ink that only fathers could read. "And I am not able to fully explain why these threads all tie together so perfectly in my mind, only that they do, weaving themselves so tightly that they have become impossible to divide."
For a long time, Denethor sat silently, musing on what had been said. Before him, his sons stood, waiting for his decision, their hearts seeming to them to beat loudly in their throats.
"I am sure that you have thought about the political implications should the people become aware that any have gone forth from Gondor in search of a King," Denethor said. Neither brother made any answer, although Boromir inclined his head very slightly. "And I am equally sure that you have discussed this fully from every conceivable angle before you came before me." Again, Boromir bowed his head slightly but Faramir did not move. There was silence again in the hall and then Denethor spoke once more. "Very well. Here is my decision. You shall each return to your duties as planned, Faramir in two days time and Boromir in four. You shall both receive messengers some days apart, Boromir on the third day of his return to Osgiliath and Faramir on the fourth. You shall arrange between yourselves a place to meet and from that day, you shall have two months to attempt to find the heir of whom the people speak. After that, you must both return, and the matter will be ended"
"Oh most wise father," Boromir said with a grateful smile. "We shall not fail you"
"I do not doubt that you shall, Boromir," Denethor said. Boromir almost undid all their good fortune then, so much did that implied slur again his brother incense him. He held his tongue, though and the brothers left the hall together, waiting until they were a fair distance away before they shook hands again, this time joyfully.
"You were wonderful," Faramir told his brother. "How is it that you always know the right words to turn his will to yours"
"Long years of practice," Boromir assured him with a smile and an arm slung around his brother's shoulders. "Now. Where shall we meet on the appointed day?"
tbc