When Faramir awoke the next day to the bright and strong sunlight and the happy sounds of the people of the City in joy (something that had rarely ever been heard in recent history) he felt cheerful and relieved and thankful. When he looked in on his brother and saw him sitting upright, talking happily with Lady Mithrellas, and truly smiling, Faramir knew beyond a doubt that the Shadow was utterly vanquished from Arda.

Faramir felt as though his heart might burst for elation when he read the first message that had been sped from the Black Gates, surely immediately after the victory. It was truly the most reassuring thing that Faramir could have hoped for since the beginning of this dismal war: to be able to read his father's own words in his own hand.

Faramir's first reaction was to pack a few simple things and go immediately to the field at Cormallen, but when his brother asked him what news he'd received and it came back to Faramir that he had others to think about at the moment, not to mention the responsibilities of Steward pro tempore, whatever that might entail. Faramir set aside the compelling longing to gallop out to the lawn by Henneth Annûn to see for himself that his ada was really alive and well.

Faramir handed to letter to Boromir who smiled an almost sad smile. "What are you waiting for, little brother?" he asked as Faramir looked eastward out of the window.

"I would go if I could," Faramir said, not sounding quite as happy as Boromir.

"Nothing's stopping you," Boromir pointed out.

Faramir shook his head though, turning his attention back to his brother. "I can not. Someone must remain here in command, and since they are calling me Steward, it falls to me. I can not leave you to do this when you need to be taking your rest." What Faramir left out was that he feared that leaving his brother might allow a relapse into that dark mood Boromir had been stricken by for weeks.

"Faramir," Boromir said insistently, pointing at the parchment he still held, "this is a direct missive from not just your father, but from our King!"

"It wouldn't be fair to the people if I -"

"Faramir…" Boromir continued, beginning to sound a little annoyed with his brother's constant attention to duty. Some things were just more important and even the Captain-General knew that, thanks mostly to his mumma and uncle. "You have been more fortunate during this campaign than any other man I know. I would think that you, of all, would appreciate that. Anyone who can rejoice now is all but obliged to do so – it is why so many gave their lives, and why I am here now with, of all things, a broken ankle! Not all of us still have our fathers, Far'. Even the son of the Steward can not escape being orphaned."

"Ah, Bor', I am sorry, you know that -"

"I do not expect your pity, I expect you to go and do your duty as a son who loves his father before you get into the business of dealing with the party invitations and decorations for your daddy's crowning ceremony. Besides, you shall have to find out what day to hold the party on; would it not be just fine to invite everyone to the King's party but the King?"

Faramir could not keep himself from chuckling, his big brother just had that ability and he had sorely missed that trait in him. "Are you going to let me finish a sentence this time?" he asked, waxing (teasingly) impatient.

"I just did, did I not?" Boromir responded. "Faramir, go. I am here and even if I can not leave this bloody bed I think my imperious presence shall be enough for the people. Likely as not they won't even notice. Go, if only for a day. We can sneak you out if we have to, after all, it wouldn't be the first time you were smuggled out of Minas Tirith to leave me and be with your ada. Why do you think your father bothered going all the way to the Black Gates without the expectation of coming back if not with the hope that in doing so he might be able to make the future safe for you?"

Faramir embraced his brother and thanked him for talking some sense into him, though Boromir felt that he hadn't nearly returned the favor Fara' had done him the day before. So it was agreed that Faramir would leave that evening for Cair Andros and then on to Cormallen. Boromir insisted that Faramir take the cloak he had received in Lórien, the hithlain garment reminding Faramir so vividly of his childhood.

That evening, Faramir was ready to leave the City, if only for just a short time, to be with his family. It was to be a complete secret and none but Boromir and Mithrellas knew that he was leaving, for as acting Steward it was really not supposed to be permissible for Faramir to leave Minas Tirith. Merry had gone earlier in the day when supply wagons left, heading for Cormallen, but even he did not know that Faramir would be coming along a few hours later.

As Faramir bid his half-brother a short-term farewell, he found himself wondering if Lady Éowyn had gone when Merry went. He knew that her brother was there at Cormallen and so he imagined that surely she had gone along as well. He could not rightly explain it, but he hoped greatly that he would see her there.

As it happened, however, as Faramir moved downward through the levels of the city, night falling as he went wrapped in an Elven cloak, Éowyn stood watching from the garden in the Houses. She had chosen not to heed Éomer's pleading call for her to come to Cormallen, having heard that the Steward would remain in the city as well. She could not understand, then, why he was leaving and doing so in a rather covert manner.

She would say naught of it though, and simply looked on as he took the reins of one of his brother's horses, which was being exercised as part of the crew assigned to renew the Pelennor, from one of the stable hands who was walking her back to the City. Faramir was able to do so only because he knew Boromir's personal approval code – it was one that few knew and even fewer wished to have cause to repeat. Boromir was devious when he wanted to be and his special, secret code was one that could make even battle-hardened warriors blush.

At first, Éowyn looked disdainfully as Faramir seemed to toy with the tack the horse wore, but when she saw that he was actually removing the saddle and bridle she was bewildered. When he mounted without assistance and took off across the Pelennor like a zephyr without any riding gear whatsoever, looking almost as if he was a part of the horse, she stood in absolute awe.

She found herself hoping that Faramir would only be gone overnight that she might see him again soon and ask where he ever learned to ride like that. She had never seen anyone, not even the most skilled of her people, the famed Horse-lords themselves, so completely at ease with a horse… and yet, she could not help but remember that Lord Aragorn, too, had seemed to be able to communicate with her cousin Théodred's horse as if it were his peer. Glancing up to the East where it had become dark and starry, Éowyn turned and quickly returned to her chamber, suddenly wishing that she had not requested a room with an eastern view.

Faramir rode on through the night toward Cair Andros where he would spend a few hours resting and taking breakfast after being ferried across to the island. There he met Merry and a number of others who would be going on to Cormallen and were bearing many supplies to take there. Merry was a bit surprised to see Faramir, for he too had heard that the "Steward" was required to remain in the city, but Faramir assured him that Boromir was well enough that he was rather sure he could not make a claim on his inheritance. Faramir was a bit disappointed to hear that Éowyn had not ridden out with them. Merry was sorely tempted to tell him that she had stayed behind because she had heard that Faramir would remain in the City, but he decided to keep quiet about that for the time being.

It was not a long ride from east ferry of Cair Andros to Cormallen, the field being just a few miles from the river and not far from Henneth Annûn. Along the way, spring was just beginning to show its signs in the morning light. Faramir had traveled that territory ever since he came to Gondor at 20, but never had a spring there looked more beautiful and potent than it did now that the Shadow was gone. The ride was refreshing and to see Ithilien looking as healthful as he'd always imagined it should was heartening to Faramir. Many were the times that he had thought that the land there reminded him of Rivendell and he thought that he could feel a lingering Elven presence there from an earlier age. It was often a rare comfort on the lean winter patrols to think that if he could not be with his beloved family in the Elven environment that he was used to, Ithilien was likely the next best place… even if it was next door to the worst place.

As Faramir was thinking of family and the land that he would always refer to as "home" in the north, he looked up ahead on the road and could see the lawn open up before him and he could see the pavilions all about. He saw that by far the largest of them was flying a banner of Gondorian colors, though it was obviously of Elven make. Faramir had to smile, he knew how his father detested sleeping in a pavilion, he always said that the last thing one wanted to do while one slept was to draw attention to oneself. He saw them as a security threat rather than a security insurance.

That was why, then, Faramir could see his father standing outside the grand tent, talking and laughing with Elven twins. For a moment, Faramir just looked on. How, he wondered, had he ever walked away from his family all those years ago? Right there ahead of him was all he ever really needed in the world. It could only have been fate that moved him on to meet his half-brother, for when he thought about it he knew that he would never have left the comfort and security of his father and uncles without some subconscious intervention.

Faramir whispered to the horse he was riding and hopped down. He walked into the camp and, his brother's hithlain cloak still about him, nearly escaped Elladan and Elrohir's notice as he walked toward his father. The twins saw him, but did not react, having seen him signal them to be quiet about it. It took all of their willpowers not to smile or give him away in some manner, but Faramir was only just behind his father when he reached out and tugged at a lock of his ada's hair.

Aragorn turned, wondering who would greet him in such a manner, and, seeing his beloved son, dropped the cup of tea he'd been sipping and held his son in his arms. It had not been so long ago that he did not think he would live to see his child ever again.

"Well done, adar," was all that Faramir could manage to say, a bit of an understatement for this reunion, but he was a bit too choked for any more than that.

ooo

My humblest apologies to all my readers for taking so long to get this chapter up. I have been a little busy the last few weeks and every time i had a chance to write i just wasn't in the right frame of mind.

Elenhin: You are so very right, Faramir really is the world to Bor'. He is that little brother that he always wanted to have as well as being his closest friend and someone who he can trust enough to be himself around - so much so that he can even let go of his worries and self-doubts because he knows that Fara' will be there for him.

linda: Of course Aragorn is back soon. Can't leave him out for long, he's the King! Thing is, it's only when he's not in a chapter that he gets any rest from my torture. Poor guy.

estelle: Heheh... i've had to rush to get ready for work a time or two because i was trying to get in another paragraph. More often though i end up not getting to sleep until quite late because i stay up writing. I also tend to write a little bit at work when things are quiet (which is why this chapter took so long) and have spent pretty much entire weekends writing, instead of cleaning, getting out of the house, eating, etc.

WindStar: Welcome! Ever so glad you have enjoyed so far. Hope to hear from you again.