Before very long, Aragorn and Faramir returned to the pavilion, to see Boromir and four Hobbits laughing joyfully. Aragorn smiled, if wearily, and said simply, "now fully prepared, I perceive, and permission duly granted, Captain-General." Boromir very proudly offered the ceremonial attire he had brought for the King, wondering how he would reconcile the luxurious items with the image of the rough Ranger he had known the man as. Faramir still read the hesitancy in his father's eyes, and was beginning to wonder if Aragorn really would make a run for it.
Once each piece had been given and it was shown how it should be worn, Aragorn swiftly turned the subject to other matters, topics which, unsurprisingly, had nothing to do with Kingdoms. If Boromir found it odd that the King wasn't all that interested in what was going on in his high city, he did not let it be known.
There was conversation for a short time before Aragorn rose and withdrew from the pavilion, saying that he would be nearby but that he wished to be alone for a time. Faramir closely watched as his father left them. The younger man took a deep breath, wondering if his this was it – his father's escape.
Boromir looked over at Faramir as if to ask what he had against Aragorn spending a few quiet moments with his thoughts, but Faramir shrugged it off and suggested that they get back to the City and prepare for the morning. Boromir was about to take the reins of the horse who had borne all the ritual garb, but Faramir recommended that they leave that horse in camp. Again Boromir gave his brother a strange look, but Faramir just mounted his own horse and started off. As the two rode up through the City and moved into the Citadel, Boromir couldn't help but notice that Faramir frequently looked out over the Pelennor toward the encampment.
Away in the distance, out of sight and not near the camp, Aragorn whistled softly and the horse who had been left in camp walked over to him. Aragorn was quiet for a long time, just watching the horse's eyes as it stood before him, waiting to be boarded. Slowly, skillfully Aragorn moved his hands to the horse's bridle and took the reins.
Faramir took no sleep whatever that night. He already had everything settled in his mind as to what he would do if Aragorn emerged from his pavilion in ceremonious wear, even if none else had any knowledge of it. But had his father decided to flee, how would he handle that? It made no difference, he knew, for he had to give his ada one last chance to make the decision that would effectively change his life, irreversibly. If he had indeed run, Faramir knew he would follow, not immediately, but certainly before very long. Yet it would break his brother's heart, and that thought did not allow Faramir to rest at all. It was all Faramir could do to hope that he would see his ada come forth and take up the Crown that would change the fate of Middle-Earth.
When he could see the moon indicating another two hours until dawn, Faramir dressed in the garments that had been tailored for him for this occasion. He had made certain that they were kept fairly simple, royal blue as an homage to his Dol Amroth ancestry, despite the Citadel's tailor insisting that the man who was acting as Steward had to be more decorated. When Faramir told the man to 'decorate' Boromir if he so wished, the tailor had complained that that was what Lord Boromir had proposed, decorating someone else instead. Faramir did capitulate to a circlet, but would not wear the headgear of the former Steward and instead had one fashioned to his own specifications. Unwittingly, Faramir's wear was quite in line with something that his daerada would have chosen. As he checked over the details one last time in a mirror, he suddenly wondered what Éowyn would think of his attire… and what she herself would be wearing. He'd found her so beautiful in the simple dresses he'd seen her in, he could only think that it would be she who would be making the gown look stunning.
There had yet to be any stirring in the room adjoining his and Faramir found his half-brother sound asleep still. He wondered if it wouldn't be more merciful to let Boromir sleep through the day. Again he thought that if his father could not bear this day, it would shatter Boromir's trust completely, not to mention that of many, many others. Faramir understood this, and yet, he also understood how much this frightened his father. And so, still again, Faramir was effectively caught between sides, able to understand both points of view. It was not always a kind ability to have.
"Boromir," Faramir called softly. "Come on, there's a lot to have done with this morning." One thing he did need Boromir for was to fetch from the vaults the casks containing the royal regalia.
"After breakfast," Boromir mumbled. "Have them send up some eggs for us," he said, turning over and making it obvious that naught would be done till he was fed.
Faramir wore a look of disgust. "You can have whatever you want, but don't even dream of trying to get me to eat that." For Faramir, eggs were survival-food only, unless he was on the brink of starving, he could scarcely choke down the things. Faramir decided that he wasn't exactly hungry for anything, but sent someone to bring something for Boromir to eat right away, there was no point in delaying a hungry Boromir.
Once Boromir had broken fast to his satisfaction, Faramir was quick to get him outfitted. When Boromir questioned just how Faramir had gotten himself into his own attire, Faramir raised a brow and said, "there are no squires out at Henneth Annûn, nor in Imladris." Then again, Boromir's ceremonial clothing was a good bit more complicated. The two stood as brothers in contrast, Faramir in his simpler, calmer blue and silver hues, Boromir in his ornate, soldierly red and fiery gold.
Faramir went with Boromir and Beregond and Húrin the gatekeeper into the Hallows where the Crown of Gondor had rested since Eärnur's death. There also was a scepter, both items kept in fine caskets of lebethron wood, inlaid with silver (Faramir was surprised that it was only plain silver and not mithril), and lined in silks and velvets of Gondorian color and sigil.
Boromir offered to let his little brother bear the White Rod of the Steward, but Faramir asked that Boromir bear it until the time came for the coronation itself, that it may be shown publicly that Boromir would gift the Stewardship to Faramir in order to retain his own position. It was only fair, thought Boromir, for after all, Faramir had been the one to accomplish all the things that the Steward was supposed to for the coronation, and anyway, it would not even be necessary to have a Steward after the main event.
Beregond was looking a little pale, being in the Silent Street again after what had taken place there the last time. Faramir did not fail to notice and instead of lingering in the place for some sort of official removal ceremony that he'd read about, he concentrated on expediting their return to the living faction of Minas Tirith. "I am still in your debt, Beregond, and ever shall be," Faramir whispered to the man who had been a friend to him ever since his second day in the City. "Please trust me when I tell you that neither you, nor Bergil, has anything to fear."
The guard looked at Faramir, Captain, Lord, and simply the Man, and he understood that Faramir would not hesitate to protect him in his moment of greatest need just as he had done for him. From there Beregond retired to join the rest of the Guard and Húrin accompanied Faramir and Boromir to the stables, where all three men saddled up and rode down through the City streets.
It was on the fourth circle when Faramir asked Boromir to halt for a moment. The elder could not figure out what the younger was doing dismounting and walking over to the crowd lining the street. Faramir walked up to a young, rather unprivileged-looking boy and knelt down to his level. "What is your name, lad?" Faramir asked the boy who equally as astonished as Boromir.
"Rhudar, my lord," the boy answered quite meekly.
Faramir smiled softly. "Rhudar, may I entrust this item to you for the time being? You see, I must go now and greet the King and welcome him home, but if you would be so kind as to help me and just hold on to this until he comes here with me to fetch it?"
The child's eyes went wide when he saw that Faramir was asking him to hold the box containing the King's staff for him. "My lord… I – I cannot, must not…."
"You would be doing me a true favor, and the King as well," Faramir entreated, hoping to get passed the lad's reticence.
"I… I will, sir, if you wish me to," young Rhudar said, holding out his arms to gently cradle the rather weighty box.
"Thank you, lad," Faramir said, standing again, "I am in your debt." The boy's smile was contagious and Faramir beamed as he returned to his horse and remounted.
Boromir, however, had not caught the infectivity. "Faramir," he whispered urgently, "please, please, tell me you did not just hand the scepter to an urchin…."
"Of course I did not!" Faramir replied, also keeping his voice down, though speaking with no concern at all. "I handed it to a young lad awaiting the arrival of his King."
"You're taking years off my life, you do know that? Why have you done that?" Boromir begged to know.
"New tradition," Faramir said with a grin, "something I just came up with."
Boromir looked worried. Who knew what else Faramir would "come up with." Taking a tighter grip on his horse's reins, Boromir sat up a little straighter in the saddle, and wrapped his arm protectively around the cask he was bearing containing the great Crown.
The third and second circles went slowly by before Boromir and Faramir stopped in the square behind the makeshift gates which Master Húrin went to stand beside. Faramir glanced about the crowd for a few moments, everything seemed perfectly ready. Faramir hopped down from his mount, causing Boromir to stare, what was he doing now that they were just about to ride out to say 'good morning' to Fara's ada? Faramir reached up to his brother and Boromir said unenthusiastically, "I can get down on my own, if that's what you want, I'm not a helpless maid, you know." It was just a lucky thing that the crowd was buzzing enough that Éowyn missed that remark, for she too was amongst those assembled in the square.
Faramir raised a brow, "I've known maids a great deal more helpful than you, but what I want is for you to hand me that great cask you have there."
"Why?" Boromir asked suspiciously. Who was he planning to hand this invaluable artifact off to, his friend from Dunland over in the prison?
"Because, I'm your little brother and I said so," Faramir replied petulantly. "Not to mention the son of the soon-to-be King of Gondor," he added in a whisper that none else would hear.
Boromir glared, there were very few who could pull rank with him, even in jest, and bugger if he wasn't related to all of them! Reluctantly Boromir handed to fine box to his brother and watched as Faramir moved through to the back of the crowd with it and then reemerged with an elderly woman, who looked worse off than the street-waif boy, but was smiling and blushing under her grayed countenance.
Boromir just shook his head as Faramir remounted and together they rode through the gates and out onto the Pelennor. This coronation was not going to be even remotely like anything he'd imagined.
They stopped halfway between the City and the encampment and waited to see the man of the hour appear from his pavilion and stand forth. Only now did Faramir allow real fear to grip him and the wait was excruciating. The fear in Faramir's eyes was alarmingly evident to Boromir and for a moment he felt like teasing his brother that he could just see those two street people turning a very fast profit, but he knew that Faramir's worry was real and much more relevant that a couple trinkets that hadn't been looked at in 1000 years. Faramir was focused on the banner outside Aragorn's pavilion and Boromir set an encouraging hand on his brother's shoulder. "You aren't condemning him, Far'. I know your father holds doubts and fears, but I know what I saw in his eyes when I lay nearly dying by the river. There's something in him that he's not really tapped into before, and maybe been afraid to, but he will be a King like no other ever could be. And with you and I as support, what could possibly go wrong?"
Across the field were arrayed Rohirrim aside Swan Knights aside Dûnedain. Four Hobbits could be seen, as well as a Dwarf and an Elf. Notably missing, however, were two matching Elves andwhat should be one veryfinely arrayed Man. Faramir guessed that an awful lot could go wrong. With the entire citizenry of Minas Tirith, and then some, watching the scene from the city walls, Faramir had to think that this could only go wrong on such a huge scale if Ilúvatar no longer cared a whit about any of them.