Faramir gave his report to Lord Denethor as best he could, considering the circumstances. Once or twice he caught himself looking to Mithrandir for guidance. He hated doing this, hated withholding information from his lord. But his father hated him now, and his will would have all the fair things he loved in jeopardy. Even Mithrandir seemed uneasy, questioning him about Frodo and Sam. Faramir forced himself to focus on summoning the answers the wizard needed. "Some twenty-five leagues as the bird flies, but I could not have come more swiftly. Yesterday I left from Cair Andros with three others, and the rest of my company I sent south to strengthen the garrison at the fords of Osgiliath. I hope that I have not done ill?" Faramir looked at Lord Denethor deferentially.

"Ill?" Denethor hissed, squinting. "Why do you ask? The men were yours to command. Or are you asking what I think of all your deeds? It has been a long time since you listened to my council. Even now you have spoken craftily and carefully, as ever; have I not seen your eye stray to Mithrandir, asking if you said well or too much? He has long had you under his dominion. My son, your father is old but not yet senile. I can still see and hear far, and little of what you have left unsaid is now hidden from me."

"I am sorry if what I have done displeases you, Father," Faramir said. He looked

Denethor straight in the eye, trying to communicate the sincerity of his words.

"That may be true, but you do not regret your actions, and would not change them now if you could. Do not forget that I know you well. You desire to appear lordly, gracious, and generous, like a king of old. That may well have benefited you, if you reigned in a time of peace. But in desperate hours gentleness may be repaid with death."

"If it must be so, then so be it," Faramir said quietly, breaking under an angry gaze.

"So be it?!" raged Denethor. "Not with your death, Faramir, with the death of your father and all of your people, whom it has fallen to you to protect, seeing as Boromir is gone!"

Faramir looked at his hands. Underneath his father's words he felt like a young boy again, exposed and vulnerable to wrath. He remembered nothing of his early childhood, and the years surrounding his mother's death were cloaked in a haze of sickness and grief, but every step he and his father had taken down this cursed path was scorched into his memory. He looked up again, trying to force calm into his demeanor, but he asked, "Do you wish that our places had been exchanged?"

"I do," Denethor spat. "Boromir was loyal to me and not some wizard's pupil. He would have remembered his father's need and not squandered what fortune gave. Oh, would that this thing had come to me!"

Gandalf broke in now. "You deceive yourself. Boromir is dead, and died well; let him sleep in peace! If he had taken this thing, he would have fallen. When he returned you would not have known your son, and he would have kept it for his own."

There was a moment of silence. "If he had! If I had!" Denethor said suddenly. "Such ifs are in vain. It has gone into the Shadow, and we must all fight the Enemy in our own fashions." Like an old lion that realizes it has been distracted from its prey by a hyena, Denethor turned swiftly to his son. "What of the garrison at Osgiliath? Is it strong?"

"I have sent the company of Ithilien to strengthen it, as I have said." Faramir said, totally exhausted. He had not slept in days, and receiving his father's jabs graciously was taking the last of his strength.

"It isn't enough. There the first blow from the East shall fall. They will need their captain."

"There, and elsewhere, and many places." Faramir sighed.

"Much must be risked in war. Cair Andros is manned, and no more can be sent. But I will not yield the River unfought, if there is a captain here who still has the courage to do his lord's will," Denethor said.

Faramir said, "Since you are robbed of Boromir, I will go and do what I can in his stead- if you command it."

"I do." Denethor looked piercingly into his son's eyes.

Faramir stood, and bowed. Unfortunately, he stood too quickly, and his vision darkened. Taking the steps down the dais without falling over required all his concentration. As the spots faded, however, he caught the muttered phrase, "Don't act as if you are surprised to hear what I think of you."

Faramir did as his lord bid him. He rode forth from the city as soon as possible with as

many men as he could take. He tried not to let himself think about his father's words. If he felt his mind stray to the matter, he told himself, He still loves me, in his heart of hearts. I only wish that he could have remembered it before I die. He had no illusions about surviving what was ahead, but he was resolved to die bravely. As he led his company onward, he said to himself, I would die for my father even if he did not love me. My devotion to him is for his own sake and the sake of the debt every son owes to his father, not for a hope of a reward or a return. I will obey him, even though he asks me to lay down my life. Something inside him grew quiet after this, and a kind of peace descended into his heart, which lasted even as he learned that a host came from Minas Morgul.

But it was not just any host. The Black Captain came, the one who threw shadow into every heart, the one who could not be withstood by any living man. Faramir fought as well as he was able, but the Anduin could not be held. They were forced to retreat to the wall of the Pelennor. Faramir held his men together, marching them onwards, but he was deeply afraid that this would become a slaughter. At the last moment, reinforcements arrived, and they brought the White Rider. Faramir gazed upon Mithrandir in wonder and awe then turned back to the task at hand- just in time to see the arrow.

Faramir dreamt in his fever.

He was racing through the streets of a strange city. People were searching for his brother. Suddenly, one of the people caught sight of him, and he cried out, "There! There is Boromir!" The people in the streets started chasing him, yelling angrily and calling him by his brother's name. A rock whizzed past his ear, breaking a window. They were trying to stone him.

Faramir dove around a corner to find a dead end. There was nothing in this alley, not even a door. He looked over his shoulder to see a crowd of people. He tried scaling the wall, but that was when the first stone was thrown. They bit the backs of his arms and made him fall off the wall.

Faramir had no ideas. In desperation he pressed himself against the wall. To his surprise, it yielded gently. He leaned further into the stonework, and it cradled him. In fact, it was very soothing. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again he was lying on soft earth. The sun blazed in the sky above him. He sat up and looked around; he had never been in this place before. He was atop a low hill overlooking a vast plain of grass. A shimmering river wound its way through the field. Faramir stood up, trying to gauge how far away it was. For some reason the landscape was hard to pin down, but Faramir was thirsty and hot enough that he decided to try and get to the river.

He walked slowly down the hill, and the next thing he knew, his boots were in the water and his hair was tangled in the weeds on the bank. At least the river was cool. He knelt down on the edge of the water to drink, but he suddenly saw a reflection in the water. Denethor was standing over his shoulder. "Father!" he said, and whipped around. His voice sounded very hoarse to his ears. His father was not behind him as he had thought, but a figure stood on the very crest of the hill he had just come down. He went to it, calling, "Father?"

The figure was not Lord Denethor. It was Boromir, very old and decaying. Despite this, it appeared that his brother could still run like the wind, for he raced away as soon as Faramir got close enough to recognize him. Faramir gave chase for what seemed like ages, but his brother got farther and farther away until he became lost in the trees. Trees? When had he run into a forest? Faramir looked around. The smell of wood and earth was everywhere. The scent of earth and trees assaulted him as it never had before. He was suddenly aware that he was thirsty again and turned around, but he was lost. The smell of a wood fire surrounded him now.

He coughed and saw smoke come out of his mouth, almost as if he were a dragon. It was only a small cloud, but as it floated in front of his face it thickened and grew.

Faramir was tired and confused. He slowly knelt down on the soft grass, and the smoke

surrounded him. He didn't know how long he lay there, enveloped. From afar he thought he heard his

name being called, but he could not be certain so he paid it no heed. The voice grew steadily stronger, and some of the smoke seemed to clear. He was no longer in a forest; instead he was in some kind of cave. Faramir heard a noise. At first he thought it was water dripping, but then he realized it was footsteps. Two voices began to murmur, echoing off the walls until they seemed to come from everywhere. Then a sweet scent filled the air. Faramir stood and followed the scent, eventually making his way around a corner. The mouth of the cave was in sight now. It was full of light, which dazed him and made him blink. He thought he saw a figure in the glow. He rubbed his eyes, and slowly the visions or dreams faded. Faramir found himself in the Houses of Healing. Lord Aragorn stood over him, and though he was wreathed in a strange light, Faramir recognized him. "My lord, you called me," he said. "I came. What does the king command?"

~*~

Faramir and Eowyn stood together in the gardens overlooking the city. The sun was rising, and an eagle wheeled in the sky singing his song of victory. The world was being made right again.

Faramir, however, was focused on Eowyn. She returned his gaze. "I do not desire to be

a queen any more," she said softly. "That is good," he laughed, "because I am not a king, and I would like to marry you,

Eowyn- if you will have me." "I will," she said. "I want to be with you for the rest of my life. If I needed to brave

darkness and death to come by your side, then so be it." Then it was Eowyn's turn to laugh. "Faramir, why do you look surprised? You think too little of yourself."

~*~