It had been several days that Faramir had spent solid hours in the library in the Citadel going through volumes on the Coronation ceremony and he had yet to find one single ritual that was feasible. Moreover, he was certain that a catalog of each stone used to build Minas Tirith would be more interesting to read. Faramir was beginning to understand his older half-brother's aversion to the written word.
One afternoon when his mind was threatening to go permanently numb, Faramir emerged from the library and decided to go for a ride to clear his mind a bit. He knew that his father did not realistically think to get back until nearer his birthday in early May, though Faramir figured that was just stalling for time, and he wondered if he wouldn't need all of that time to figure out something acceptable to everyone. He was in the stables, getting his horse ready for a run when he overhead a couple of men conversing, one a Citadel guard, the other a soldier from Rohan who had been stuck staying behind with an injury.
"Do you think Gondor will really have a King after so many years as they say?" asked the man from Rohan.
"They have called him Elfstone, and I was just a lad at the time, but I remember his as Captain Thorongil. He tended to be a bit grim, you might say, but ask any man who served beside him and they will tell you he should have taken the throne 40 years ago," replied the older guard.
Faramir kept silent but grinned. His father was already loved in this place and it gave him immense hope. He felt confident that, regardless of how a king might be expected to act, even if his ada fed the rule books to the wargs, the people would love him. All would be worked out and Faramir knew that his father's mercy and generosity and sense of justice would be all that was really needed.
"Elfstone… then he is the one who the Lady fancies so. Wouldn't that be a fine alliance, Rohan and Gondor?" continued the Rider of the Mark.
"Say again?" said the guard.
"Should've seen it! Now mind you, Lady Éowyn was never one of those maidens that sits about with stitchery gossiping. Used to see her take on her brother and the Prince, at the same time, and well… if they weren't kin to her the two of them wouldn't have stood a chance. Either one could've told you which side of her sword was the sharper. But, I mean to say, taking all that into consideration, she fell hard for that Lord Aragorn."
"Go on!" the guard chided doubtfully.
"As I breathe!" swore the rider. "Never seen it clearer. My own wife never looked at me the way she looked at him. He rode in to Edoras as if he was a king already, with an Elf, a Dwarf, and a Wizard as his knights. Trouble is, didn't look at all like he returned her favor. Don't know though, you think they'd do a diplomatic deal of sorts?"
"Captain Thorongil? A finer leader no one has ever heard of, but I do not believe the man has the word diplomatic in his language. If it's true that Captain Faramir will stand as his Steward it's a good thing for 'Lord Aragorn,' as you call him. The Lady really fancies him that much, huh?"
"I heard that your Lord Boromir was found and is recovering and that the Captain from Ithilien is only standing in his place until he is able to take up his duties. Also heard they're illegitimate brothers," said the Rohanian. "As I say, it's been put about a bit that Captain… King Éomer sent for his sister when the battle was won, but she would not go because Lord Aragorn did not call for her as well."
Faramir stood by and listened to the two men talk, never was he one to eavesdrop but it was rather impossible not to hear. He waited until they left the stables before he walked his horse out, not wanting to talk to anyone at the moment. Taking a deep breath he pulled his hood over his head and rode out of the city for while, utterly unable to explain why he was aching so much.
That evening when Faramir took his supper with Boromir he was noticeably quieter than usual. "I know that ale's got a bit of bite to it," Boromir said, "but that's no reason not to eat and drink, little brother."
Faramir smirked weakly, but Boromir was far from convinced. Sitting back against his pillows he folded his arms over his chest. "You have that 'thinking' look on you again, Faramir. What is troubling you? Might as well come out with it."
"It's nothing. Truly, I do not even rightly know myself. I guess I am just trying to understand something," Faramir said honestly.
"Well, that's your problem then, isn't it? I make it a policy to never try to understand things. Makes everything easier that way, understanding is too complicated," Boromir said, resuming his meal as though he had solved the whole thing.
"Maybe. I don't know. I still haven't found anything useful in those volumes. I've only just gotten through the rites from King Celepharn. They get worse every time, more rules and expectations that are unrealistic." Faramir sounded as if he was getting down and Boromir meant to put a stop to it somehow.
"It's sitting around with those dusty books all day, Fara', it's not doing you a bit of good. Tell you what, I am prepared to make a sacrifice for my little brother. How about you bring as many of those things as you can carry up here tomorrow and I will help you?"
"I wouldn't ask that of you," Faramir said, thinking that what Boromir likely meant was that he was prepared to help him sacrifice the ancient tomes to the fireplace.
"Good, because if you did ask I would not do it. But since you didn't ask, and I offered, I will consider my day for tomorrow… booked."
Faramir only groaned and thanked Boromir for his bigheartedness. Likely he was just going stir crazy without anyone to talk to all day, but Faramir knew it would be beneficial to them both, even if Boromir claimed an allergy to dusty books.
That next day Faramir went down to the library and brought up and tottering stack of the old volumes that he had been systemically going through. It was quite a balancing act to keep them from toppling over onto his sleeping brother's injured ankle as he set them down at the end of the bed. He did not wake his brother, however, until someone brought breakfast, he figured it best to let sleeping dogs lie unless there was something to gnaw on.
When Boromir woke it was clear that his spirits may be lifted immeasurably, but his ankle was still hurting him. He flinched and gritted his teeth as he sat upright. "Bloody water again," the elder brother grumbled. "You know, my ankle always is at its worst in the morning, so why not give me ale now? They give me ale at night, to shut me up no doubt, but what's wrong with some in the morning as well? And why in the name of the gods did someone erect a bleeding tower at the foot of my bed overnight?"
"You asked me to bring what I could carry. I did so," Faramir said coming back into the room and drinking down a glass of water as though he'd been dying of thirst.
"I said what you could carry, not what you could stack up on a mûmak!"
Faramir had long since grown used to Boromir's morning grumpiness. His old mentor, Erestor, had been just the same, though two less alike people Faramir could not imagine. "You just need some fresh air," Faramir opined, opening the shutters and letting the clean spring breeze come in along with the sunshine. Faramir had been in quite a good mood to start the day, until he happened to notice that Boromir's window boasted a fine view of not only the Anduin, but also the Houses of Healing. That reminded Faramir of that conversation he'd overheard, and though he wanted to shut it out, get on with his work, and keep company with his brother, he could not help becoming a bit subdued.
Still, he chatted with his brother over breakfast, even though he was no longer quite as hungry. After a bit he handed Boromir a book and took one for himself, sitting in a big, comfortable chair in the sunlight. Faramir strove to concentrate, but with the monotonous quality of what had been written about the coronation ceremonies of these long-gone kings, it was not easy. Faramir's mind was wandering away from him and he kept finding himself thinking of the hauntingly mournful Lady of Rohan. Faramir sighed and set the book aside, going to the window for a breath of air.
"Must be nice to be able to get up and take a break from this absolute rubbish," Boromir said, apparently still not over his bout of crabbiness. That tone changed though when his brother turned to look at him with heartache in his eyes. Boromir heaved a long sigh. "Don't bother telling me it's nothing this time. I let you get away with that nonsense yesterday and I should not have. Out with it."
"I've never felt like such a fool," Faramir said, again looking down on the Houses of Healing.
"Always told you that disarming me twice in a row back when we first met would come back to haunt you one day," Boromir said, attempting to make his little brother feel better. "Now then, what could possibly make you feel like a fool, you who were raised by Elves? No wait, let me guess… you are in love," Boromir said, sounding as if the very idea revolted him.
At that Faramir flushed a bit. That had never crossed his mind, but now that Boromir said it… suppose he was right?
That tinge of pink in his brother's cheeks was enough evidence for Boromir. "Addles the wits of the wisest and turns even the best of soldiers into melted lumps," he grumbled. "Which one's web did you walk into?"
For a moment Faramir looked at his brother as if he wanted to evade the question or insist that it wasn't love exactly. In the end he knew better and simply said, "Éowyn, Lady of Rohan," as he sat down again and tried to find where he'd left off in the book.
"Well, you could've done worse. Though I hear she is a bit on the… sharp side. Still, better feisty than a bore, no?" Boromir said, attempting to stick his attention to the page in front of him. This he looked at as his own person test for regaining honor.
"I haven't done better or worse or otherwise. I've walked and talked with her, but never any more," Faramir said as though he was deeply regretting that at the moment. "I am a fool though because she couldn't care less for me."
"How do you know? Women are wily, little brother, they want you to think they don't care for you. Don't ask me why, that's what I told you last night about not trying to understand these things."
"I know because she fancies my father," Faramir said, not at all bitterly, for he knew the extent of his father's love for Arwen.
Boromir, however, was trying to keep from chuckling and failing. "Well, some good it'll do her. Your father is just about as lovesick for Lord Elrond's daughter as I have ever seen a man. You know, I even got the idea at one point that that was what this whole quest for the Crown thing was all about, so he could prove himself to her or something. I just wished he wouldn't have spoken to her quite so frequently in his sleep, especially during my watch. Right… well, how exactly do you know she fancies your father?" Boromir asked when his unique sort of levity wasn't working.
"I overheard a conversation yesterday," Faramir said. "Apparently it is painful obvious that she is head over heels in love with him."
"I wouldn't put too much stock into rumors, particularly those going around this city, little brother. Why don't you go talk to her again, see if you can figure out how she really feels?" Boromir shook his head and looked back at the book he'd been staring blankly at for a while. "Listen to me, giving love advice. I knew laying about in bed would make me go all soft. What is all this rot anyway? There is no way they made any king-to-be go through all this for something he'd probably already been doing for the five years that his father spent going into senility anyway."
Faramir absently nodded and turned a page. "I don't really think I should. Actually, I am certain that she doesn't like me at all. The first two times I met her she punched me in the arm and slapped my face. Not much of a start. She probably only walked with me because I reminded her of ada. I heard she didn't go to Cormallen because her brother sent for her, but my father did not, so likely as not she really does not want to see me now. No wonder she ran out of here when you mentioned my name."
"Well, that attitude never got a man a good la-" Boromir cleared his throat suddenly as Mithrellas came in the room, "lady," he finished sounding utterly innocent.
"What are you doing with that?" Mithrellas asked Boromir, sounding quite surprised.
"Reading, Mumma 'Rel, I did master the ability some years ago, if not the fondness."
"Just like your uncle. Still, if your mumma could see this she would never believe her eyes. It would make her so proud, though, both of you. Since I do not mind playing currier to my best friend's son, this former small forest is for you, Faramir," she said handing Faramir a stack of missives that nearly rivals the stack of books he'd brought up.
Glancing through, he set one aside from his father. The rest were from people he'd never heard of, and all addressed to the Steward of Gondor. Faramir sighed. "These are for you," he said dryly, handing them to Boromir.
"Oh no they are not! I agreed to help you with these books, but you are still Steward. I can't be, I'm on injured reserve, remember?"
"It's your ankle, Boromir, you can still do as much as I can. Which reminds me, when do I get to tell our good people that you are just fine and will be back in a few weeks and swear that you really did want me to do this and I didn't try to take over or force you to name me your heir or leave you for dead, or any of the other fine things they surely have to say about me?"
"Anything they have to say they can say to my face," Boromir said with a great deal of conviction. "If you really want to, you can tell them at least that I am alive and… well. I guess I should really issue a statement." There was that plaintive look about Boromir directed at his little brother.
"Oh no!" said Faramir defensively. "That is a good idea, but it has got to be in your hand, not mine. Even if they can't actually read your writing, they will know you wrote it and that will be good enough."
"While I am writing I might as well send a message to your father asking him if I can stay Captain-General when he comes back. That's one thing I am grateful for, that there will no longer be a need for a Stewardship. Now, as to you, why do you not just go and talk to your lady?"
"I thought you wanted to go back to Dol Amroth?" Faramir said recalling a conversation he'd had with his brother not so long ago.
"Sometimes I would, of course. But if I could lead the army still I would do that first and foremost. That is what I can do well, not all of this reading and trying to figure out which ceremony is best or writing letters to the people of Gondor to tell them that all is well. And you should stop changing the subject and go to see your lady," Boromir decided.
Faramir ignored the comment though. It was an old trick he'd learned from Erestor, even if the Noldo hadn't meant to teach it to him. Faramir often noticed that Erestor spent much more time devoted to work when Glorfindel was around. Putting two and two together as quickly as everyone else in the Last Homely House had done, he figured out that Erestor loved Glor' madly, but refused to admit it, and thus, when the object of his desire was around, it was easier for him to bury himself in work. It was a distraction. "There is far too much to do here. We have that whole stack of books to work on, and that doesn't include those missives."
Boromir shook his head. He was clearly going to have to find another, less obvious way to make something happen. "All right, then, let's get this over with. I am not going to do this again, you do know?"
ooo
A much, much longer chapter this time. I know i've been slacking a bit on the updates. Got to get myself back in line i guess.
Must ask if anyone feels as if this is getting too long. I really don't believe i am going to take this story beyond Aragorn and Arwen's wedding. I do need to find a conclusion since the main focus has been the difference in Faramir's life (and the lives of others)since being raised by Aragorn. So too will it soon be time to start working on some other stories. Got a few bunnies going hungry around here.
Elenhin: I kind of thought you might have missed chapter 63 when i didn't see a review, but i knew that you'd been away and also there was something going on with the email alerts at the time. Still, no problem, of course. I know i can always count on your reviews. :)
windstar: Glad you are enjoying.
Grumpy: Poor Fara', a lot of pressure to come up with something to please everyone. It's bound to be difficult for him knowing that whatever is done will mark a major change to his and his father's lifestyles.
linda: I hope they will be able to get away at times together, too. It would be tricky, but if anyone could those two could.