Gandalf and Imrahil were waiting for Boromir when he emerged from the tunnel up to the Citadel. Both were surprised by what they saw.

"Bori'?" Imrahil questioned, "did it go all right? No blood on you, lad," he said cautiously.

Boromir considered telling his uncle that he'd washed it away already. "No, Faramir stopped by and wouldn't let me kill the bastard. Wants his ada to pass judgment," he said with a pout.

Gandalf smirked. "Faramir's sense of justice is keen, it always has been."

"Likewise, Boromir has always been very protective, regardless of what he had to do to safeguard those he loves," Imrahil said, a small proud smile lighting the Prince's sea-blue eyes.

"I am certain that Aragorn will be overjoyed to make such a judgment first thing when he gets back here!" Gandalf said, and was that a slight drop of sarcasm?

It wasn't long before Faramir too emerged from the tunnel, with a large black bird perched on his shoulder. "Carach says you would do well to listen to me, Boromir," Faramir said, teasing evident in his tone.

Boromir just glared at his brother. "I still need to work out some energy you know, Master Crow. I'd be happy to test how much strangulation a crow can stand."

Carach ruffled up his feathers, but did not respond otherwise.

"I can offer you a sparring partner, though I would suggest you take some rest first," Faramir said.

"I have heard of your skill, nephew," Imrahil said to Faramir, "and I for one would love to see you in action. Though I must speak honestly, I have my doubts that you could best Boromir. I taught him the sword myself."

Faramir just smiled to his uncle, he would introduce him to his sword-master later.

From there on Faramir bested Boromir daily at sword work, though he felt no pride in it at all. Clearly his brother, though healed, still had a long way to go to recovery. Boromir growled about it a good bit, but for him it was only incentive at work all the harder.

Evenings were spent getting back to the laborious annals of Gondor's kings-passed. The general atmosphere of the Coronation was no difficulty: lots of people, well-dressed, the City well-decked, feasting, and so on. That was all well and good, but it was for absolutely nothing without that little ceremony, which just did not seem to be worked out no matter how Faramir turned it. It didn't help that the "rules" were all so convoluted and contradictory. One said that the heir to the deceased King was to have been handed the Crown and scepter and such by his father on his deathbed – clearly that would not work in this situation. There was also something about a City elder presenting the new King with the Crown on the steps of the Tower of Ecthelion, but Faramir knew that his father did not wish to enter the City without "due process."

One evening Faramir had received a message from his father saying that they were breaking "camp" at Cormallen in a couple days and would be heading toward the City, it would only be a few days. It was about that time that an immense influx of people arrived at Minas Tirith, having somehow heard that there was to be a Coronation coming up. Faramir swore he would strangle whatever fool let that word get forth, for now he had less than no time to prepare and still had so many dignitaries to greet and get settled… somewhere.

It didn't take much for Boromir to see how overwhelmed Faramir was and though his initial instinct was to stay out of it as much as possible, he had to do something to help him. Though it took a lot of him to greet some of the visitors (he was disgusted every time some young, hale man from some fiefdom showed his face and declared to be of whatever lofty station; more than once Boromir only just held himself back from having "words" about loyalty and why every possible man should have been at the Black Gate with their King), it seemed to take a lot of the pressure from Faramir and let him concentrate on putting something together. And anyway, Boromir was pleased to see so many of the people he knew from his youth in Dol Amroth again and he and Imrahil made quite social butterflies of themselves with their seafaring countrymen. The City was coming to life in an amazing way: flowers, music, laughter, filling the streets as had not been for more years than Men can know.

Still Faramir kept himself in the library frequently, until he needed to come up for air. Clearly nothing had been resolved regarding the ceremony, but Faramir's secret was that he was no longer trying so hard. He was now taking advantage of the library's other literary capacities and had decided that the Coronation would either come to him by the appointed time or it would not. If not, he had a plan stored away, just in case.

Boromir had officially gotten nervous about the whole thing when one evening as he was heading to the library to drag his little brother up for supper, he spotted pavilions dotting the further end of the Pelennor like sheep in a verdant pasture.

Faramir was so involved in Gilfanon's Tale that he jumped, startled, when Boromir called his name in the library. "I'm dearly hoping you've got it all settled, brother mine," Boromir said in a rather pleading tone.

"Not at all. Why?" Faramir asked, Boromir hadn't really been very interested in the process up to that point.

"Please, Faramir, just tell me that it is all worked out and that it will all be legal and binding, and certain people won't be able to make any challenges," Boromir said, sitting down heavily. A bit too heavily for the ancient chairs in the deep of the library, for the thing collapsed from under him. "For Eru's great, shining bollocks!" Boromir shouted in wrath.

It was then Faramir's turn to collapse, in laughter. Whatever would he have done without his brother!

"Oh, well, right, hilarious for you. You aren't the one with a stick up your…. Gods, never mind! It isn't really that funny."

"It is from where I'm sitting," Faramir smirked.

"I'll have you for that, mark my words!" Boromir threatened.

"Well, if I were you, I'd ask the stick first… it might get jealous, you know," Faramir handed back ever so fluently. "Who's challenges?" Faramir said, offering to help his brother up and switching the subject easily.

"Challenges? What chal- ah, right. Thing is, Far', there are those here, of a certain faction… you see, they don't really think that Isildur's line is the right line. I always figured it was a moot point, so I paid rather little attention to it all. But…," Boromir shrugged, "some of them are rather adamant about it."

"Your father was one," Faramir said quietly.

"And I am many things that he was not," Boromir said stubbornly. "I will stand for Aragorn until the last."

Faramir smiled and whispered "hannon le, muindor-nin."

"But the point, little brother, is this: we need something by dawn." Boromir sounded purely alarmed.

Faramir on the other hand smiled even brighter. "Then my father has arrived at last?"

"According to those tents on the other side of the field," Boromir said.

"Good. Then let's have supper quickly and ride out. There're a few things I need to talk over with him."

As soon as they had finished with supper the brothers went to change, Faramir into more comfortable, "Rangering" attire, Boromir into considerably more formal wear. It was all the difference between the two summed up in one picture. Faramir just shook his head when he saw his brother emerge dressed as if he was going to meet… the King of Gondor! He insisted that he at least wear one of his cloaks though, to make getting out of the City a little easier. And so, as the sun set behind the White Mountains, the two men rode forth over the Pelennor to where the hosts were camped.

As they approached the camp, two "guards" came forward to greet them. Faramir recognized Legolas and Gimli from some way off, though he knew little of the Dwarf and was slightly wary that someone had sent an Elf with a Dwarf. Faramir knew much more than enough history to know that it could get a little comfortable, to say the least. Still, he dismounted and embraced his old friend.

"It is good that you have come, pilin-nen," Legolas said with a slight smile.

Faramir lightly touched the Elf's arm, signaling that he wished to speak privately for a moment. "How is he taking this?" Faramir asked quietly.

"How am I to answer that question at the moment," Legolas responded, his gaze fixed on the younger man.

Faramir merely nodding, understanding his father's indecision on the matter. That Plan B might come in useful after all. "Where can he be found?" Faramir asked, glancing about.

"In his pavilion," Legolas said, still with that slight smile.

Faramir looked slightly doubtful and wondered if his father had accidentally wandered into it. Legolas shrugged slightly, indicating that he rather wondered the same.

"I had thought to have a little celebration tonight. It is what ellyn of Mirkwood do on the night before they hand their freedom over to some beguiling elleth… but I refrained. I believe he needed some time to think in quiet."

Turning, Faramir motioned toward the pavilion to Boromir, who was suddenly looking less like he was dressed to greet the King and more like he was going to face a court martial.

Faramir was the first under the canvas and Boromir told him he would give him a moment to catch up, waiting outside for his brother to call him in. Aragorn turned when the tent flap was raised and rushed over to hold his son. "We have been apart much too long, ion-nîn," Aragorn opined quietly.

"Agreed," Faramir said, keeping a tight hold on his ada. "Let us see to it that that is amended. I brought Bor', of course, as you asked."

"Good, call him in," Aragorn asked.

Boromir ducked under the tent flaps and stood at attention, consummate military man that he was, before going to his knee and withdrawing his sword, proffering it to the elder man before him with bowed head. "I would wish to be the first to offer my loyalty and allegiance to the King of Gondor," Boromir said.

Aragorn looked seriously at the ceremonially dressed warrior. "I am sorry, but that honor has already been taken. A dying man gave an oath of loyalty to me as his King some months ago on the banks of the Anduin."

Boromir dipped his head and said, "so happens the fellow pulled through after all."

"Aye, no thanks to his King," Aragorn replied, extending a hand to help Boromir stand. "It is so very good to see you well again, Boromir. You know not what it was like for me to be under the belief that an oversight of mine could have cost you your life. You shall always be welcome to whatever is mine, for I stand in your debt."

"Then there is only one thing that I would ask of you, my liege," Boromir said, standing straight and focusing on a spot slightly above Aragorn's forehead. Aragorn nodded and Boromir said on, "I would request to be permitted to retain my position in Gondor as Captain-General and allow the title of Steward to be kept by Faramir, sir."

Again Aragorn regarded Boromir solemnly for a very long moment before he said, "I can not grant that, Boromir. Truly, I can not authorize you to return to any capacity at the present time. I do not believe you are fully prepared to resume your duties."

Boromir struggled to keep himself in check, it was not easy for him at all. Had power already gone to this man's head? Yet, he swallowed his pride, quite the difficult task, bowed his head and took a slight step back. "As you deem it, sire," he said compliantly.

"Please, make yourself comfortable here, I wish to have a word with my son for a moment," Aragorn said, trying to sound pleasant again. Boromir nodded and Aragorn and Faramir slipped out the back of the tent. Boromir sighed wearily and sat down near the brazier, not noticing the four who quietly entered the tent behind his back.

Once the father and son had reached a safe speaking distance Aragorn said, "with any luck that will give him what he needs at last."

"A clever idea, father, well done. He has been in need of just such a meeting. But I wish to speak of you just now." Faramir did not fail to note the way his father hesitated at that.

"I am well, Faramir, if not well with it." Aragorn was quiet for a moment before speaking again, much softer. "I can not tell you how many nights I have lain cold, wet, hungry, and miserable, bitter that a Ranger's lot was so and wishing for just one night in a proper bed, warm, full of food and drink, and happy. Now I am faced with a lifetime of what I'd so carelessly wished for numerous times on the road and I would gladly exchange it to be cold, wet, hungry, miserable, and my own man again. I have no notion how I am to live confined in a city, by stone and expectations."

"Ada… the horse I rode out here I packed up for four days ride. She is fleet of foot. Four days is more than enough to get one clear of Gondor's borders. All you need do is say the word, for I can not be the one who does this to you. If you can not bear this fate, ada, then run now while you can. I know, I understand, for I did it myself, and I would never think less of you. Just be sure you move quickly."

"You would offer me this freedom…. What would you do…?" Aragorn asked, as if he was truly considering this.

Faramir shrugged. "Whatever the people wished. Perhaps they would have Boromir take the Crown."

"But what of you?" Aragorn pressed.

"I wouldn't mind going home," Faramir said. "Only, I do not think it would be home for much longer. In any case, you know daerada would understand, even though he has always 'nudged' you toward your 'destiny.'"

"It is a terrible change to accept, no matter how long I've had to consider it," Aragorn said broodingly.

"I think I begin to understand why you have always placed yourself at the fore of the worst trouble imaginable," Faramir said, trying to lighten his father's mood just a hair.

"I will accept it though," Aragorn said, his voice sounding just a little choked. "I must do. The time has come and I am needed, yet again, to serve others than myself. I must try, and if I fail in the attempt… I shan't be very shocked by it at least."

Faramir understood that his father needed to let himself a safety valve about this. "You aren't alone, ada. I will support you no matter your decision tonight. Only, if you can not bear it, you must flee before sunrise."

"Every man should have so compassionate a son!" Aragorn declared. "I thank you for giving me these last few hours. Although I know what I shall come morning: I shall do that which I should have done long ago."

"So many years have you spent fighting for freedom," Faramir said softly, holding his father's hand. "The freedom of the Shire, the freedom of Gondor, the freedom of all of Arda. Yet you will relinquish your own because the world of Men can only have the finest Man for their leader. Only you can lead them in the right ways, ada. It may take years, but one day we shall see a world of Men who live at harmony with their world, rather than at odds with it. And I shall never leave your side in this."

"Im iston, Faramir, hannon le! Le melin, ion-nîn."

"Le melin, adar-nîn."

Boromir's musing was heavy upon him. What did Aragorn expect of him anyway? He knew he still had some way to go before he was fully the warrior he had been before Amon Hen, but that need not preclude him from his duties as Captain-General! Still, Boromir knew this was not a time for squabbling, but he couldn't help but wonder just what the ensuing days would bring. If he clashed as much with Aragorn the King as he did Aragorn the Ranger, it would make for rather difficult going. Boromir sighed deeply. Hopefully those two would be back soon so that he could present Aragorn with all of the ceremonial garb for morning.

Behind Boromir and still over by the entrance of the tent stood the four who'd sneaked in. They were shooting looks between them that, if spoken aloud would go something like, "you go to him," "no, you," "why should I go?" and so on. Finally, one huffed inaudibly and stepped forward, waving off the "what are you doing!" glare of the other three.

"Hullo, Boromir! Nice to see you here," Pippin said, suddenly appearing beside the chair Boromir occupied.

Boromir was momentarily startled, and nearly greeted the upbeat Hobbit just as enthusiastically. All of a sudden, though, the smile died in Boromir's eyes. He remembered Merry visiting him once before the victory at the Black Gates, it was one of those many encounters Boromir had chosen to "sleep" through. Boromir saw that Pippin was not the only Hobbit in attendance and a wave of shame hit him full force. What he'd done to these innocent folk he deemed in every respect dishonorable, and thus surely unforgivable. He'd harmed Frodo to get the Ring, and as though that wasn't as bad as it could get, he'd tried to make an escape, running for the Elven boats on shore, even as he saw Merry and Pippin fighting to get away from those enormous cross-bred orcs. He'd failed them in the worst way. He supposed he should be glad that he had not encountered Sam, for who knew what he'd have done, and yet he knew any hurt Frodo bore, Sam bore twice over. He knew because it was the same for him with Faramir, and any who'd ever harmed his little brother made a mortal enemy of Boromir of Gondor.

Both Frodo and Sam read Boromir's inner battle too clearly; it was something about those who had close contact with the Ring, they just understood. "Boromir," Frodo said, taking up at the big man's other side. "You can not hold yourself accountable."

Boromir shut his eyes tightly, his head lowered. "I know full well what I did, and I can not accept -" The little, calloused hand that grasped his stopped him mid-sentence.

"You do not know what I did, though. In fact, only Sam, Gandalf, and Strider do," Frodo said glancing at Merry and Pippin, and silently begging their forgiveness for not speaking of it sooner. But it needed to said now, more to this man than to any else. "I never expected to survive this journey, not after what happened at Weathertop. I never really expected to get all the way to Mordor either, particularly after we lost Gandalf. But I did make it, and I did survive. And still I, too, failed."

"You did not -"

"I did, Boromir. And yet, even in our failure there is much yet to live for. We can never know just what might happen next. I failed, Boromir, exactly as Isildur did, right there in the heart of Mount Doom. I tell you truly, in that moment, with all of Middle Earth at stake, I would not have destroyed it, I would not have let it go. Gandalf was right, for had it not been for Gollum, all would be lost. You see, Gollum did get the Ring back, in the end." Frodo looked down at the hand that held Boromir's, and only then did the Gondorian realize that one finger was missing.

"I can not honestly say that I would have done differently if I had it to do again. The reason for that is clear to me now, it was none of my decision. It was not I in control then, as nor was it you in control at Amon Hen. You were a great and noble ally to us all, we would not have survived even as far as Caradhras if not for you. Boromir… for my part, I forgive you unreservedly."

"As do I," Sam said, standing resolutely at Frodo's side, as ever.

"You know we bear you no ill will," Pippin said, speaking for Merry and himself. Merry nodded in agreement.

Boromir was caught utterly speechless. He shut his eyes, letting the gathered up tears make their escape. "I haven't even had the strength to forgive myself…" he whispered, "but you…. May the gods bless you all, and all of the Shire, eternally."

Pippin did his best to put his small arms around those broad shoulders of Boromir's and before long Boromir had been turned into something of a Hobbit hat-rack, with all four of them attempting to hug him all at once. It did rather take all four to make one hug for the big man, and their laughter eased the last of that lingering pain from his heart.

"But then… what did happen to the Ring?" Boromir asked. He knew it had been destroyed, but if Frodo didn't…?

"Oh, that was your little brother's doing," Sam said with a half smile.

"My little brother? But Fara' couldn't…."

"He's the one what put that curse on Gollum. Said if he ever harmed Mr. Frodo death should find him swiftly. So it did. Said that when we came to get the Ring in Ithilien. He was lookin' after you an' them Rangers dragged us in, takin' us for children. I told him all about what'd gone on and he gave us some supplies and his Rangers give us Gollum back, not that I was thankin' them for that too heartily. But when he come out from tending to you to see us off like, he took one look at Gollum and knew he was no good and said, 'May death find you quickly if you bring them to harm.' And sure enough, that nasty little Gollum no sooner got that Ring back than he toppled off the ledge and right into the fire."

Boromir couldn't help from breaking into a smile. "That's the last time I do anything to get Fara' mad at me!