For the rest of the march there was peace, however tenuous. Aragorn took to riding between Faramir and Éomer at all times and there was a joint effort between Aragorn and Belthil to keep to the two distracted from one another when camp was made.

There arrival at Edoras was particularly difficult. Éomer, though comforted to be home at last, was pained that everywhere he found reminders of the earlier days he shared there with his sister. For Faramir, the difficulty was in the knowledge that it was finally final and absolute. He knew that once the door of the sepulcher was shut on his wife and infant child, he would have to really face their permanent absence.

Suddenly the young Steward did not want to face that reality. He wanted to pretend that nothing was amiss, he wanted so much to shut off his feelings and be able to get through whatever burial ritual was employed in Rohan without showing his emotions. Faramir was not sure that he had the willpower to do that, though. They had arrived late in the afternoon and rites were to commence at dawn, so at least he would be granted a night to prepare, but Faramir was still terrified that he would act disgracefully.

The worst thing was that he knew better than to believe that to show grief was disgraceful or weak, he knew much better, but it was so difficult to shake that habit. The fact that the people of Rohan seemed to have no trouble expressing their anguish only drove home to him that he knew he should not hide his own. He still felt that he had not been able to work through losing Boromir because he could not allow himself to show grief in the company of his soldiers and most certainly not in front of Denethor. Far too rare were the moments he ever had to himself.

He knew that he had his father's support now, though, and while Aragorn was seldom an open book, nor was he one to disguise his feelings. Faramir was never in doubt that his father loved him, and that fact, at that point, actually did little more than to burden Faramir further. He knew that Éowyn often doubted his love for her, and moreover that it was because he often felt compelled to shroud his feelings, especially in the company of others and in formal situations.

Though Faramir felt he had been making a lot of progress in himself, especially after Gandalf's arrival, he now felt as low as ever as he began to think of all the mistakes he had made in the past and of all his current flaws, as he saw them. He desperately wanted to be home again, alone and in the comfort of his own bed, instead of in Éomer's barn... rather, Golden Hall... as it were.

On reflection, Faramir was very glad indeed that he had not insisted that his wife and child be interred in the Hallows. He did not think he could bear to go there again and relive not only Éowyn and Findiel's deaths but his mother's as well. What was still unknown to Faramir was that, had he gone there, it was highly likely that thitherto fever-masked memories of Denethor's suicide and attempted taking of Faramir's life would have come to the fore of his mind and overwhelmed him. These things were slowly being revealed to him through dreams all in their own time, to have rushed it might have had severe consequences for the young man.

It was, in fact, that very night that another revealing dream came to Faramir. It was not what Faramir needed... or so it seemed.

At first the dream had been like to the one he had en route to Pelargir. There was the heat and the powerful roar of the fire that raged around him. Faramir could feel the very sweat beading on his brow. It was worse this time, though; there was slightly more clarity to his senses in this dream.

He felt utterly trapped, he was too weak to get away. It was not just fire surrounding him, but fire in him that trapped him as a fever tore through him. There were shouts, he couldn't understand what was being said, but he knew the voices. He heard Gandalf and Denethor and tried hard to discern what was going on. The more he tried to understand, though, the hotter the fire got around him. He could see nothing, he couldn't open his eyes for he lacked the strength. Suddenly he felt himself turning and falling. He tried to cry out, through his fever-hazed mind it felt like he was falling forever and the terror of death struck him. He fought to just open his eyes, if he was to die, he at least wanted to know how.

It was just then that he became aware of someone's hands on his shoulders and his name being called. Faramir woke with a start to find his father with him, mopping the sweat from his face with a cool cloth. No words needed to be said, Aragorn understood that dreams of revelation had visited his son again. He hoped that Faramir would not dwell on his dreams too much this day, but no matter what support he was in need of, Aragorn was determined to provide it. For now, he set about helping his son get ready for the trying day ahead, as he himself was already prepared for that night had been rather sleepless for him.

It had been an hour before sunrise when Aragorn woke his son from his nightmare. Few were the occasions for which Faramir had seen his father looking so kingly. In one way it was a comfort to him, a further reminder that the past was over and the Days of the King had come at long last, a reminder that he had a real father who loved him dearly, and that together they had the power to make the world beautiful and peaceful again.

And in another way, Faramir felt again pressure to behave with the poise befitting his rank at all costs, even though he knew that that was the mode of the past. It pained Faramir to remember that Denethor had never shed a visible tear at Finduilas's funeral.

As he was finishing getting dressed, Aragorn offering to do up the laces on the sides of his tunic since it was not possible for one to tie them properly for oneself (Faramir utterly refused to wear the black robes of the Stewardship that Denethor had always worn so pompously) he realized that he had not seen his son since they arrived and nearly panicked. If Berethil had not brought him in when she did, Faramir would have turned the Golden Hall upside-down to find him without even thinking simply to ask.

Immediately, of course, Elboron buried his little hands in his father's wavy locks, but today he seemed to do so more of a need to be close to his daddy than out of any mischievous design. Faramir understood this on a basic level and held his child closer, also needing the comfort of being able to just hold onto someone - he was still struggling with himself with his control over his emotions and he was still quite shaken by the fiery nightmare. It was going to be a very difficult day and fathers would need their sons as sons would need their fathers.

---

linda: Yes, Faramir always does blame himself. He's getting over that slowly, but still he has difficulty with his past habits.

Elenhin: You most certainly should not feel like a fool! You pick up on a lot of subtle things built into my stories. Par example: Faramir and Eomer having the same problem only reversed. Exactly. Each is trying to re-learn behaviors that were so ingrained in their personalities. I know from experience that it can be done, but it takes time, and someone who cares enough to help you. Right now both men are volatile, but Faramir has some things to deal with that are more weighty than Eomer does. Eomer just needs to learn to control himself a little better, Faramir has to get over a lifetime of Denethor's scorn.

Happy 2005 to everyone! May this year bring you all joy and good things.

May you have warm words on a cold evening,
A full moon on a dark night,
And the road downhill all the way to your door.