DISCLAIMER: None of the characters or situations in this story are mine. I receive no material compensation for having written it.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is set sometime early in the Fourth Age, when Faramir and Éowyn's son is about twenty-one. It assumes a preexisting friendship between him and Eldarion, Aragorn and Arwen's son.

Before the sun rose, Faramir found his way to the Great Hall. He had need of solitude that morning, of solitude and of contemplation. It was Elboron's twenty-first birthday, the age at which Gondorian men came of age; that day, he would pledge his fealty to the Elessar. He would cease to be only Elboron and become Prince Elboron of Ithilien.

He had been standing at his throne for several minutes, his hand resting lightly on the highly polished wood, his mind roving through the pleasant fields of memory when the unmistakable footsteps of a fellow Ranger rang through the vaulted chamber. Reluctantly, Faramir glanced toward the door. Unmistakable in a black tunic with silver embroidery and a black ermine cloak, the King walked into the Hall. When he saw Faramir, he reacted with only an open smile. Reverently, Faramir knelt and took the King's hand to his lips.

"Do you need something, Faramir?" Aragorn asked, a little concerned that Faramir would spend the beginning this most blessed of all days in his own company. "Were you waiting for me?"

"No, Sire, I only needed a few moments to myself before the insanity starts this afternoon."

Aragorn laughed; the crow's feet showed plainly at the corners of his eyes, but the laugh itself was just as pure as it had been twenty years earlier. As he helped Faramir to his feet, he said, "I can understand that. The feast last night was geared quite heavily toward men our sons' ages, not ours. Truly, last night I felt my age."

With a soft laugh, he said, "It was an entirely Elven evening, my lord; Elboron enjoyed himself. I would convey my thanks to the Queen."

"I imagine you will hardly be able to pry her away from you after the ceremony. She has not stopped crying since your toast last night... It was very eloquent, Faramir. It reminded me of my foster-father."

Faramir blushed slightly, pleased by the genuine compliment. "My King flatters me."

"I speak truly."

"Thank you, my Elessar."

"You have been as good a father to Elboron as Elrond was to me," Aragorn said. "I must thank you for that... You ensure my son's reign will be as successful as my own."

For long moments, Faramir was floored by the sincerity and gravity of the King's words. He could not find the words to express what they meant to him, but the King seemed to understand. The intelligent grey eyes had fixed kindly on Faramir, the gaze to which the Steward had become so wonderfully accustomed. Finally, hesitantly, he said,

"I pray my family shall always have the opportunity to serve yours."

"As do I," the King replied. Smiling softly, he leaned over and pressed a kiss against Faramir's cheek. Faramir sighed softly, both with relief at the blessing inherent in the King's kiss and with delight at the contact from a man he had long considered a second brother.

"You really ought to be with your son, though. Someone will have to pry him off the floor after the way Eldarion plied him with miruvor last night."

Faramir laughed sadly. He had warned his son against drinking too much at the preceding evening's banquet, having seen Boromir force out his oath through a raging hangover, but Elboron had disobeyed. "May I have your leave, Sire?"

"Aye, of course," Aragorn said. "Go. Do what you can to calm his nerves." With a deep bow, he left the Hall and headed for the Steward's apartments in the Citadel. When he reached Elboron room, he saw no one. However, from behind a screen, he heard a few incoherent grunts that slowly became, "El, if you don't stand still, I can't-"

"You're putting it on too tight!" The choked voice of Faramir's son squeaked out a protest, and Faramir could just picture his flinty silver eyes glaring at his best friend.

"It wouldn't hurt if you would just stand still!"

"Highness, I can scarcely breathe." Finally, Elboron's voice formed a recognizable sentence. "Loosen it!"

"Oh, you're going to be a Ranger, there can be no mistake," Eldarion sighed. Something clinked, and Elboron sighed in relief. The two boys- young men- stepped from behind the curtain. Upon seeing Faramir, they offered respectful bows. With a roguish smile, the Crown Prince said, "My lord Steward."

"Good morning, Highness," Faramir replied with a shallow bow. "I thought the two of you would be rather in your cups this morning."

"Prince Legolas saw to it that our wine was quite liberally watered," Eldarion grinned. "I'll take my leave, then, Elboron. Remember, to speak and to be silent-"

"To do and to let be, to come and to go, in need or plenty, in peace or war, in living or dying," Elboron finished.

"If you forget, I'll be right behind Ada. I'll prompt you."

Elboron nodded gratefully and murmured, "Thank you, milord."

The High Prince hurried from the room, leaving the family alone, and closed the door behind him.

Faramir surveyed his son closely, assuring himself that every accoutrement was in place, that no piece of clothing was on inside out or backwards. Elboron stood quietly, allowing his father's scrutiny, moving as Faramir's hands carefully guided him. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, my lord," Elboron said quickly.

"I ask because you look ready to faint."

A horrified look flittered across his face as Elboron's heart jumped from his chest to his feet to his throat. "Elbereth, Father, please, do not say such things!" The only thing that could possibly be worse than forgetting the words to the ancient oath would be swooning like a maiden before the entire court.

"Oh, my son! I did not say that you would!" Faramir laughed, clapping his son on the shoulder. "You will not faint; you will not forget the words--yes, I know that is what concerns you, that's been your fear since your last birthday!"

"There will be so many people, Father..."

Faramir smiled sympathetically; he pulled Elboron into an embrace. As every time they touched, Faramir felt awed and humbled by the willingness with which Elboron submitted to his arms, the total trust his son had in him. "They have come to see you succeed, Elboron. Believe me when I tell you that everyone in that room has come to support you as you become a man."

"Is Mama crying yet?"

"And the Queen, if Elessar is to be believed."

"Why do they do that?"

Faramir's laugh turned into a dry sob as he tightened his arms around his son's shoulders.

"Papa?" Elboron carefully disentangled himself and looked in shock at the tears threatening in his unconquerable father's eyes. "Papa, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Faramir lied softly. He rested his hand on Elboron's cheek for just a moment; then, he had to turn away before the tears really started. "But... You are my firstborn, and you will have to forgive me if... if the day you become more than that, I am a bit... nostalgic."

"How will I be a Ranger if I cannot face the court?" Elboron asked desperately.

"This is an entirely different sort of courage, one that very few people possess. You will make a formidable Ranger, and one day, one day you will be a wonderful counselor... You only need time to become accustomed to giving orders instead of receiving them constantly."

Elboron tilted his head contemplatively. "When... When my time comes... When his Majesty calls upon me to serve him... Do you truly believe that I will be able to do my duty to him? Do you truly believe that I am suited to...?"

"Oh, my son..." Faramir clamped his hand on his son's shoulder and kissed his forehead. "As long as you serve the King to the best of your ability, I am certain that you will make both him and me pleased and very proud."

"Papa, were you nervous?"

Faramir did not have to ask his son for anything more specific. He envisioned the seventh level, full of people with their eyes all on him... Those glorious, unlooked for words: "That office is not ended, and it shall be thine and thy heirs' as long as my line shall last!" He paused and nodded slowly. "Yes, child, I was nervous."

"Did you forget the words?"

"No, no, Elboron..." He squeezed his son's hand tightly, reassuringly. Elboron had hardly ever been so nervous before; the jumpiness was starting to make Faramir pity his son. "I was only remembering my oath. No, I did not forget the words, but these were different times, when the coming of the King still burned within the hearts of all in Minas Tirith. I assure you that, in your position, I would certainly fear a lapse of memory."

Faramir went into the Hall without Elboron; he would make his own entrance. After he assumed his place on the dais, a herald announced Elboron. With all the dignity and bearing of the House of Hurin, he walked down the aisle, not looking to the left to or the right. He kept his eyes securely fixed on his King. When he reached the foot of the stairs leading to the dais, Elboron went down on his right knee and removed his sword. The King's boots appeared within his field of vision, and Faramir's spoke: "Great King, I would beg your permission to pledge myself to your service."

Proud that his friend's son had managed to speak without a tremor, Aragorn nodded. "I will hear your oath."

Elboron offered his sword. As he felt the King's hands tighten around the hilt, Elboron relinquished his hold and began to speak in a carefully moderated, tight voice. "Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor, and to the Lord and King of the realm... To speak and to be silent, to do and to let be, to come and to go, in need or plenty, in peace or war, in living or dying from this hour henceforth, until my lord release me, or death take me, or the world end. So say I, Elboron, son of Faramir of Ithilien." Beneath him, the floor spun, and he slammed his eyes shut. That was it. He was no longer his father's son; he was a man, heir to the Stewardship, and a Ranger of Ithilien.

Dimly, Elboron heard the response. "And this do I hear, Aragorn son of Arathorn, High King of Gondor and Arnor, and I will not forget it, nor fail to reward that which is given: fealty with love, valor with honor, oath-breaking with vengeance."

Elboron felt everyone's eyes upon him, and he could not mistake the sniffling from his mother and his sister standing just beyond his father. A war-callused hand rested on the crown of his head, and as the King returned his sword, he whispered to Elboron, "You did well, dear one. It's over now."

"Thank you, Majesty," Elboron breathed.

"Rise, Elboron, Prince of Ithilien," said the King in a booming voice. When he reached his feet, which seemed entirely too long a journey, the entire hall burst into enthusiastic applause. Faramir cheered loudest of all, watching as his son accepted the felicitations of every Elf and Man in Gondor's court.