Boromir could feel his brother's frustration. Frodo was speaking with great care, giving away as little as possible about the Ring. The hobbit was a natural born diplomat, but Faramir was skilled at interrogation, and the questions in his mind were too urgent for diplomacy. Faramir had his own guesses about Isildur's Bane, but he knew nothing for certain. His mind had been turning over the possibilities ever since Boromir's departure from Minas Tirith and his thoughts had become more urgent since Boromir's death. Had Isildur's Bane been the bane of Boromir of Gondor as well?
Faramir's usual patience was already dangerously frayed. The fighting had not been easy. He felt the same tired ache he always felt after a battle, even a victorious one, as his mind began to register their losses. Fighting also reminded him of his brother, by whose side he had fought so often. The dull sense of loss that he always carried with him into battle these days had been sharpened by the presence of the Halflings. Boromir could feel the strain on his brother's stern composure every time Frodo invoked his name. When Frodo suggested that Faramir bring his questions to Minas Tirith and wait for Boromir's return, it finally hit Boromir: Frodo had fled from him before the orcs attacked. He did not know that Boromir was dead. He realized with a strange twinge that Frodo did not know the fate of his young cousins either.
Faramir continued to probe Frodo about his relationship with Boromir, carefully noting the shadow of memory in Frodo's eyes and his hesitation before answering. Boromir, from his perspective noted something else about Frodo's voice when he finally answered; there was forgiveness there, and pity. Something like the pity Frodo felt for the creature Gollum, but for Boromir the pity was balanced by an equal amount of respect, and a genuine wish for friendship. He regretted now that the lure of the Ring had kept them apart during their journey. There was much in Frodo that reminded Boromir of his brother. At any other time Boromir would have been glad to see them meet, but now he could feel the Ring working on Faramir's tired mind. His grief for his brother, and his thirst for knowledge were entirely focused on one thing: Isildur's Bane.
Faramir could feel the mistrust in Samwise, and the wariness in Frodo, but his own suspicions were blunted. Frodo had passed the test. His shock and grief at the news of Boromir's death had convinced him, and his fear and grief for the rest of the Company had touched him, even through his own grief and the incessant questioning in his mind. He wondered how closely related Frodo was to the other Halflings, but he did not ask. He would speak to Frodo again in private when they had reached a more protected location. Boromir was glad he had not asked. Lessons in hobbit genealogy tended to take a great deal of time, and Boromir did not know if Frodo was up to it.
The march to Henneth Annun felt longer than usual. The beauty of Ithilien passed by him unnoticed. He tried unsuccessfully to shake the mood. It was Boromir who was the impatient one. He was always first to reach for everything. It was a standing joke between them and their closest friends that Faramir lacked the bulk of Boromir because his older brother ate everything before Faramir could get to it. The thought usually put a smile on his face, but not today. Today it only fueled his desire to know the truth of his brother's death. Frodo would give him the truth, he now felt certain of that; but how much of the truth? Would it be enough to satisfy him?
The Halflings were slower than the long-legged men of Gondor. Faramir allowed Mablung and Damrod to pull ahead of them. This would be privacy enough. Keeping his voice low he continued his dogged questioning about Boromir. Isildur's Bane was the heart the matter. Such a thing would mean a great deal to the Steward's heir. The heir of Isildur, it seemed was content to let the Halfling carry it, but Boromir of Minas Tirith would not have been. He would have seen it brought home to his city. He would have brought it himself; a mighty gift for their father. Isildur's heir had yet to appear to reclaim his kingdom. Isildur's Bane was within Faramir's grasp, and Faramir was now the Steward's heir.
Boromir longed to tell Faramir the whole truth, to warn him. He felt the muscles of his spirit-body clench in frustrated helplessness, just as he could feel his brother's body tense with concentration and the effort to keep his weariness and grief in check. Then he felt a shock of emotion from his brother that nearly took his breath away. Mithrandir was dead. Boromir felt the moment again; helplessly watching Gandalf fall. Boromir's memories of the wizard were all from the journey. He had never sought out Gandalf in Minas Tirith as his brother had. Boromir saw now what Faramir's time with Gandalf had meant to him. With Gandalf Faramir had been able to be himself, away from the painful scrutiny of their father, and the protective shadow of his older brother.
Faramir's mind was reeling. Mithrandir had fallen. Boromir Captain of Gondor had fallen. And now the test had come to him. It was an evil thing. It had destroyed Isildur, and his beloved Boromir, and yet these two small Halflings had carried it all the way to the fences of Mordor. They were without guidance. He should bring them to Minas Tirith, to his father, for council. Yet his father was a proud man. Would he bring to the Steward the thing that had destroyed his son? What had Mithrandir intended? No. He would not bring Boromir's Bane back to his city. Better to leave this thing to the guidance of the Elves. He would put his trust in Elrond of Imladris, and in Elrond's chosen messenger. But Boromir could hear a voice whispering in Faramir's mind, 'You would trust this perian over your own flesh and blood?'
It was the voice of their father. Boromir knew how long Faramir had carried that questioning and disapproving voice with him. He felt his heart sink.