The morning of Faramir's revealing dream was a difficult one for him. Though taking the cup of tea that Gandalf had offered made him feel a bit more relaxed, he still found that all his tension was manifesting itself in a headache. Faramir planned to shrug it off and just get back to his work, but that was not in Gandalf's plans.

Instead Gandalf offered Faramir a pouch filled with lavender to ease his tension, and before long the combination of the soothing scent and Faramir's own tiredness lead him to concede to taking "just a short nap before getting started for the day." Once comfortably in bed with his infant son asleep beside him, Faramir slept until supper.

His sleep was mercifully free of dreams that day and he was only wakened by the sound of laughter near him, his son's and father's laughter. It seemed Elboron and Aragorn were having a bit of a tug of war, with the King's beard.

"Elboron...," Faramir attempted to admonish, pulling himself up to sit, but the laughter in his father's eyes was altogether too rare to check. Elboron's attention turned to his father though, and one look at his daddy's wavy locks just begging to be tugged was all it took.

"How are you feeling?" Aragorn asked quietly of his son.

"I am well," Faramir said tentatively, not sure if Aragorn knew about the night he'd had. "What did Gandalf put in that tea?" he asked as a reflex action.

His father only laughed. "If that had been Elrond's tea you would still be asleep, and likely not wake until this time tomorrow. But that would make our departure all too hurried for you."

Faramir smiled lightly and nodded, Elboron's little fists buried in his hair. Suddenly Faramir glanced back up at his father, confusion in his eyes. "Departure? To where? When?"

"Yes. To Rivendell. At week's end," Aragorn answered.

Faramir's eyes lit up at once with awareness. "Rivendell," he repeated in a whisper, a smile playing at his lips.

"It is not too soon for you, is it?" Aragorn teased, knowing full well that sometime before he was even born wouldn't have been too soon for Faramir.

"I will have much to do before then , but i can get started now," Faramir said, getting out of bed and nearly tripping over his discarded tunic in his haste.

"Peace!" Aragorn said before his son injured himself. "Erestor tells me that he has everything in had and has in fact been working at least two months ahead on foreseeable matters such as soldier's pensions, compensations, so on. I have the schedule set. If all goes well, next week we leave here and arrive in Edoras a week later. Spend a couple of nights there and set out again refreshed. After that will be a bit of a challenge for those of us who are growing used to our soft ways here... it should be a month's ride north. If we stay two months in Imladris, we should be able to get back here at harvest."

Faramir's eyes gleamed. "Two months, father? Two entire months, are you certain? In Imladris?"

Aragorn nodded. "I only wish we could stay longer, but... i think i may need to be here when i become a father again."

"I... two months?" Faramir stammered incredulously. As usual, though, he found a way to check his enthusiasm. "Father, are you certain that we can spare that kind of time? I should be here, at least -"

Aragorn shifted Elboron back to his son's arms. "Belthil, much like your brother, has a much greater passion for Minas Tirith than he does a trip to Imladris. He has already offered to remain here with Arwen, and Arwen and Berethil will be here with Elboron, as well as his cousin."

Faramir shrugged, finding no argument other than that he would miss his son greatly. But he knew well enough that between Arwen and Berethil his child would probably be speaking fluent Sindarin and may well have his father usurped before he returned home. "You have thought of everything, father," Faramir said, sounding very grateful.

"I would think of everything, my son, if only to allow you a short time to have to think of nothing," Aragorn said sincerely, putting an arm around Faramir's shoulders and ushering him to dinner.

The next week was excruciatingly long to Faramir as he tried to while away time by checking and rechecking travel plans and arrangements. At times it felt as though the time to depart would never come. Faramir had decided to travel as he ordinarily would have in his Ranger days as Aragorn would be, especially in light of Glorfindel's advice that Imladris had more in the way of hospitality than they should require during their stay.

At long last, though, the week did come around, and everything was set for the King, the Steward, two Elves, and a Wizard to cross Middle-earth. Some were appalled that they weren't traveling with an armed escort, or at the very least pack horses bearing food and a pavilion, but Aragorn had had enough of traveling everyone else's way and was eager to see if he was still fit the real road.

Parting was likely the hardest task. Erestor's with-foal mare, Mornië, would be remaining until she was delivered, afterward it was likely that she would find her way home on her own. The Noldo Elf had not traveled anywhere without her in longer than he cared to admit and it was not easy parting from her, as he was not sure whether traveling home with his new-found lover was going to drive him as mad as the previous journey had, or not.

Aragorn assured his wife that they would return by harvest, though that would still have him home three months before Arwen was due, mostly because he did not look forward to setting out to return any later than the end of summer. He promised to bear her tidings to her father and brothers, and Aragorn could not help but wonder if the twins would not insist on coming back with them to greet their nephew when he arrived. Oh, the trouble they could put his son up to... he knew firsthand.

Faramir made his departure easier on himself by taking Belthil aside the night before and asking him to keep Boromir's book until he returned. He also made his young nephew promise that he would not mention anything within the pages to his uncle when he returned, as he himself had not yet finished the reading. For Faramir, the hardest thing was parting from his little boy. He was always very close to both his children, but since losing both Éowyn and Findiel Faramir had been inseparable from his Elboron. He knew that his son was in the best care possible, though, and so placed his trust in Arwen, Berethil, and Belthil. He knew, too, that Legolas and Gimli would be spending much time in the Citadel, and so there was nothing really for him to fear. Or, as Gimli so genteelly put it, he needed to spend some time away from his son because three would certainly be a crowd come the little lad's wedding day. Faramir did his best to ignore the comment and just thank Legolas for his willingness to assist and Gimli for the excellent progress of his city's restoration.

Finally, the riding party of Faramir, Aragorn, Erestor, Glorfindel, and Gandalf set off for a long awaited holiday.

-

AM: Breach of protocol is almost expected when you get Gandalf involved. The staff of the Citadel is probably extraordinarily tickled about the Rivendell trip - at least their Queen knows how to deal with their formality.

flowerbee: Faramir has been overworking himself since day one. The visit to Rivendell, i should imagine, can't help but do him good... it is Rivendell, after all. But we shall have to see what he might have to go through to get that healing. Moreover, we shall have to see what happens when they get back home, whether or not Faramir's self-imposed exhaustive work rate continues.

linda: At long, long last. Although... they are only just setting out. I shouldn't assumejust because i plan to get them safely to Imladris and back again that my muse will permit such... luxury. Then again... perhaps all will in fact be well. Even i can not say.

Elenhin: Last chapter, though short, was indeed amusing. I just could not resist mentioning a tea-ward. I almost allowed him to advise Gandalf on what kind of tea to take to Faramir, but for someone who spent his entire life pouring tea, he's probably a lot like the healers down in the houses who will talk nineteen to the dozen about the benefit of this thing or that until you consider deafness an option... then tell you that they don't have any. I have to wonder though, if anyone did try to stop Gandalf the poor fool would likely end up the newest recruit in Boromir's mouse army, first division.