The sun was just over its peak and the day was growing much warmer when Aragorn's company arrived at the city of Pelargir, the second time in a year for three of them. In fact, it was very nearly a year exactly.

To first look at the city, no one would know that there was anything amiss. Looking around, Legolas seemed to perceive something that ordinary senses passed over. "Much wrong has been done here," he said quietly to Aragorn. "I like the feel of this place less than i did last year."

Aragorn nodded grimly, and it struck him just how little had really changed since he was last here with the Grey Company. "Last year there was war and battle. This year there should be peace. The innocent are slain by those who i sent to keep peace, and that is what i am here to correct," he said with determination, although he was somewhat unsure of exactly how to go about it. Was he just to wait until the next foreigner was slaughtered? Aragorn turned then to Faramir and spoke in a whisper. "Our Rangers should disperse, but we may need them near. See if they can not conceal themselves about the city, but tell them to be on alert. We may be dealing with an insurrection."

Faramir nodded and relayed the information to those he was once captain of. As the Rangers began to part Faramir noticed another soldier of Gondor further along, and pointed him out to Aragorn.

"This should prove interesting," said the King to the Steward after beckoning the soldier toward them. The soldier of Gondor answered Aragorn's gesture at once. Though neither he nor Faramir wore any symbols of rank on this journey, the solider recognized his King and Steward immediately, stopping in his tracks and kneeling before them.

"Rise, son of Gondor," Aragorn said. "What is your name?"

"I am Herion, my liege, humble lieutenant of your royal company," the man said, bowing low.

"Lieutenant Herion, if you will, kindly call the men of your company to assembly," Faramir said.

"My lord," said Herion, again bowing.

"Oh, Herion...," Aragorn said as the soldier began to rush off to gather his fellows, "where do you lodge?"

Stopping again suddenly, Herion turned and replied, "wherever there are quarters to be had, sire."

Aragorn nodded, still looking quite grim, and dismissed the soldier. He waited in silence as soldiers one by one gathered there in the village. Most were shocked and awed to see the King and Steward, as well as their Elven and Dwarven companions. Faramir had turned and was in discussion with Glorfindel, Legolas, and Gimli, taking no note of those filling the streets until they had all assembled.

When Faramir came again beside his father Aragorn looked unwell, or perhaps in a distant memory. Maybe both. He laid a hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention only temporarily. Aragorn appeared taller again and there was more clarity in his gaze, but he did not yet speak and his glance went curious again as he looked over those gathered.

Faramir gathered that something was not quite right. "Do you want me to -" he began to ask quietly. Just then he looked to follow his father's gaze and Faramir, too, faltered. Suddenly he too was wrapped in the fog of memory. Faramir caught himself just as tears began to prick at his eyes and he trotted away for a moment or two. The other three riders had noticed what, or rather who, the King and Steward had been staring at some while ago, but none of them said aught.

Finally Aragorn managed to gather his thoughts and he went to Faramir. "Perhaps we should take care of this later?" he whispered.

Faramir shook his head and quickly hid the evidence of his emotions as he had grown so adept at doing over the years. "This must be taken care of immediately, adar, we both know that."

Aragorn nodded and turned his attention to the soldiers awaiting. The King delivered a moving speech first entirely in Quenya, then Sindarin, and even an abridged version in Khuzdul that impressed Gimli to no end, considering the fact that it was supposed to be a secret language. Aragorn then turned to leave, seeing the utterly confused faces of the soldiers. Some seemed to understand some parts of the Sindarin speech, but only some. But then he turned around again, removing a scroll and asking for the one named Belthil to step forward.

It was as Aragorn and Faramir had both hoped and feared, the soldier they had been staring at. Aragorn nodded and bid the young man to follow them, and as he started away once more he looked back and said, "if you want to know what i just said, three times over, you may ask these three," indicating Glorfindel, Legolas, and Gimli. "But do not be surprised if they refuse to answer you in common tongue, for none were raised speaking as we were. And i would be rather careful about your replies, should they ask you anything."

The King and the Steward rode away with the bidden soldier following them. Once they had gone a fair enough distance Aragorn turned to Belthil and asked him where they might find accommodations. He took them to an inn by the river and explained that it was the finest he had seen so far in Pelargir. Going inside Faramir secured lodging for the three of them before they went to the common room for a much needed drink and discussion.

Taking refuge in a quiet corner and glad that no one other than the soldiers he had personally dispatched recognized him in this place, Aragorn withdrew the missive the young soldier had sent to his King. "I want to thank you for alerting me to this Berthil," he said. "I intend to stay here for perhaps a couple of weeks and ensure that this matter is put to rest, but i would like to know more about the young soldier who was brave enough to pass by the channels that would have denied this to bring the issue directly to my attention. I know all too well how such things work in some companies, and i appreciate such courage and conviction in one so young. What is your age?" Aragorn, in his subtle way would slowly learn all that he needed to know to tell him if his suspicions were accurate.

"I have seen 19 winters thus far, my liege," Belthil answered. "I would like to thank you, your majesty, for your kind words. I only felt that i was doing what i was duty-bound to do. Did the boy, young Faramir, did he arrive well?"

For this the Steward answered. "Aye, he did. I do not believe he will be returning to the company though. The King has granted him leave of service. He was able to confirm everything you reported."

"Leave of service?" Belthil said astonished. "You are merciful as they say, indeed, my liege!"

"I simply do not believe that a boy of 13 should be taken from his family and pressed into service far from his home in times of peace," Aragorn said, managed to disguise his disgust at the situation.

Belthil looked relieved, but it could be seen that it was bittersweet. "I watched after him all i could. He became like a little brother to me."

At that Faramir smiled sadly, and Aragorn decided to find out once and for all. "Who is your father, Belthil?" the King asked, shrouding his blunt question as mere curiosity.

Belthil broke eye contact with Aragorn to stare at a spot of nothingness directly over his ale. "I do not know, your majesty. My mother died when i was a child and from what i can tell, my father did as well."

Faramir exhaled a breath he was not aware he had been holding. Suddenly, the Steward felt extremely disappointed. "What can you tell us?" Faramir asked quietly.

"I honestly do not even know his name," Belthil said, sounding ashamed. "Of my mother i know but a little more. She raised me on her own in a small home in the land of Lossarnach by the generosity of the good Lord Forlong. I was grieved to hear of his death, for he was good to us. I fought for him at Pelennor, but i was taken down with a wound and someone was good enough to get me off the field to headed to the healing houses in the fair city. I wish i could have thanked him, though i do doubt he survived either, he was quite elderly and not dressed as a soldier but a traveler. I thought at first of the tales i have heard of the White Wizard of Isengard, but surely that would have been impossible. Perhaps it was only an effect of the fever."

Belthil stopped when he saw Aragorn and Faramir exchanged interested glances. "Forgive me, Lords, i have said too much," the young man said humbly.

"No, indeed," Aragorn said quickly. "Say on!"

Belthil nodded, wondering why the King and Steward of Gondor were interested in his tale. But none the less, he certainly would not deny them. "My mother died when i was of but 10 years. It was then i learned that my mother was born and raised in Lossarnach, but has gone to Minas Tirith for several years. Her cousin and her family took me in, but it was clearly out of charity, for they never treated me as one of their own and never would answer any of my questions about either my mother or father. I do not know why they could not speak of my mother, but i guessed that they never knew my father. Mother very rarely spoke of him either, but i know that he was a soldier in Minas Tirith, and likely of rank for mother told me that i was so named because of the insignia of the White Tree which he wore at all times. I can only guess that my father was very frequently away, and that perhaps he died even before my birth."

Both father and son were silent for a while before Faramir asked, "What was your mother's name?"

"She was called Imloth, my Lord," Belthil replied.

Faramir searched his memory, but was finding it fruitless at the moment. The day had grown into night and at that moment all Faramir really wanted to do was sleep in a real bed again. He excused himself to leave and Aragorn nodded, but gently caught his sleeve and said in a low voice, "le tyava quel?" Faramir simply nodded and continued on.

Laying down in his bed the Steward felt much relaxed in body, but not in mind. He tried over and over and over to place the name Imloth, but he just could not say for certain that he knew that name. He felt almost desperate. Everything else made perfect sense and Faramir felt that if he could just place the woman's name, he could be positive, but Faramir guarded closely again believing something only because he dearly wished it could be. And yet, the resemblance was just too much the same.... Faramir simply could not shake it, no matter how he wished to let it go until he had taken some rest - Belthil looked exactly like Boromir.

---

Ah! And so the plot does thicken! Chapter length should make up for the last few.

For some reason i can't look at the last notes i left... anyone else having this trouble? Everything after Chapter 1 tells me that the site isn't responding (what else is new?). So anyway, pardon me if i have already left a reply or if i missed one. I also apologize for this weird thing the site had been doing, runningwordsalltogether (yeah, i did that on purpose). I can assure you, i didn't make those mistakes!

grumpy: Faramir has had worse dreams, and he may well have much worse dreams yet to come. I think that there is a real possibility that Aragorn and Denethor might have been related. I toyed with the idea of them being cousins, but that just doesn't have the same intrigue. All in all, it has little or no impact on the story in actuality. I think. Unless the plot bunnies decide it does. Buti must wonder what ideas Tolkien played with!

linda: Yeah, Eomer is getting the hang of the whole ruler of the entire country thing. He's gotten a lot more diplomatic and is much less hasty these days. I definitely think that once the War was ended Faramir finally got to have the kind of life he so wanted, quiet and peaceful and filled with learning. I would think he gave up the military life altogether and kept the Office of the Steward amainly clerical one. Of course... there may be much learning in store for our Steward, but about the quiet and peace... i have my doubts :)