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[ifishouldreturn]

The morning of Faramir's last day on Middle-earth dawned fair and bright. Though his heart was heavy and the knowledge that had been given was a great burden to bear, he could think of no finer day on which to say his goodbyes.

He had woken to find Minas Tirth bathed in the warm oranges and reds of the sunrise, turning the white spires and towers of the citadel into pillars of brightest gold. For a moment, all he could think of was how much this city - the city of his birth and the only home he had ever known - meant to him and how he would give anything to protect it from the enemies that surrounded it.



A moment later, he realised that he would soon sacrifice his very life for the sake of Minas Tirith. Very soon.

He knew that the thought was not a flight of fancy or a dream that had remained with him after waking. It was a fact. A solid and immutable piece of knowledge that he could not and would not question.

This was the last sunrise that he would ever see. By nightfall, he would be dead.

Faramir did not fear death. (In many ways, this was not the first time he had faced it. It was simply the first time that he had faced it with such certainty.) He had resigned himself to it the first time that he had rode out of Minas Tirth to face the allies of the dark tower. Although he would have liked to see Gondor at peace once more, he would gladly give his life so others could see such a future. His only regret was that he would leave his men without a leader in times of great danger and that his father would be left entirely alone.

***

A little after he had broken his fast, a guard hurried to Faramir's chambers with a summons from his father. As he hastened to answer it, Faramir wondered how he would react to what was to come. Denethor had made it clear on many occasions that his youngest son - his only living son - was nothing but a disappointment to him. He was still grieving for Boromir and was unlikely to waste his tears on someone else. It was Faramir's own sense of duty that kept him at Denethor's side, not the loving relationship between father and son.

As he crossed his father's chamber to speak to Denethor - who, at first, did not register Faramir's approach or look up from his breakfast - the capricious device that connected him to the community switched itself on. Though it was in his pocket and no image could be seen, the conversation that followed was broadcast clearly enough.

"You summoned me, my lord?"

"Yes. You have been idle for too long. You are to ride out at once. I wish to know if the enemy is moving."

"Father, my men are not yet rested. We returned from the south only yesterday."

"You have your orders, Faramir. Do not disappoint me in this as you have in so many other things."

"It has never been my intention to disappoint you. I want only what is best for Gondor."

"I am the Steward of Gondor. I decide what is best for this city." Unseen, Denethor's lip curled into an expression of disgust. "Your brother would not have hesitated."

"Perhaps I will join Boromir soon," replied Faramir, a little more softly, "And you will no longer have to endure my presence."

"Perhaps." The idea was not greeted with sorrow or regret. If he was ever to relent and admit his love for his youngest son, Faramir would not be alive to see it. "Until then, do what you can to avoid displeasing me."

There was a great deal more that could be said, on both sides of the conversation, but, in the end, Faramir spoke only to bid him farewell.

"Goodbye, father."

"Be ready to ride out within the hour."

The recording ended and Faramir left the hall in silence.

He would never see Denethor again.

***

Immediately after giving his men their orders, Faramir returned to his chambers to prepare for the journey. His last journey. After a brief moment of deliberation, he placed his strange communication device on his table, intending to lock it in his trunk before departing. He did not want it to fall into the wrong hands and he doubted that Denethor, if he ever decided to examine his son's possessions, would bother to search through the scrolls and parchments of a scholar to find the device hidden between them.

As he fastened his dark green cloak about his shoulders, the device switched on again. He had been deliberating whether he should bid farewell to the community before leaving Minas Tirith. When he turned back to the table and realised what had happened, he was far from surprised.

"It seemed that the community has made my decision for me," he noted, picking the device up. "I was not permitted to leave without bidding you farewell."

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[video] tl;dr!

[womanofvalour.livejournal.com]

She had not wished to listen to such private matters, and conversations between fathers and sons were indeed meant for no others' ears. But by now she knew of her parchment's penchant for picking up moments that were best left unseen and unheard by strangers, and knew that such occurrences were not only limited to her - and now it deemed it fit to show her such a scathing, such a cold and chilling exchange happening between Captain Faramir and his lord. She knew he would not wish for anyone to know of this. None would! She could not help but feel aggravated on his behalf.

Éowyn knew very little of Lord Faramir's father - the Steward of Gondor, as he had so loudly, proudly proclaimed - and now she had no wish to know more about him. For one to speak to his son so callously as he had done was unforgivable, and at the end of the conversation Éowyn's heart was moved, first by anger, then by pity. Anger that such a lord could so easily dismiss his son and his men's dire need for long and good rest, their need to regain the strength they have lost in their journeys. She knew that in these dark days, a warm bed might be the only comfort a soldier would know, and that his strength returned to him quicker in the company of all that was familiar to him - and for the Steward to deprive them of that was a heartless act indeed. Pity that Lord Faramir was bound to his duties as much as she was, and that despite their own wishes, their own desires, in the end they would obey their lords' wills. And yet she did so out of love for the uncle who treated her like his own daughter. How could Lord Faramir endure this from his own father, who did not treat him like his own son?

When he spoke to the device minutes later, Éowyn found herself unable to speak. Farewell? Would he not bring his link to the community with him in his journey?

"My lord," she replied softly, with a respectful nod. "I--" Éowyn paused, unsure of what to say to him. Then, "It seems that duty calls on you again."

[ifishouldreturn.livejournal.com]

"My lady."

Faramir inclined his head, giving Éowyn a resigned smile that was neither sorrowful nor joyful. He had accepted his fate, such as it was. He was merely glad that he had a chance to see her face once more before riding out to meet it. It was difficult to see the woman he can come to consider a friend so burdened with sorrows. He wanted to remind her not to lose faith. He would not live to see a Middle-earth at peace, but Éowyn would. He could not bear to think otherwise.

"Duty calls to all of us. We have no choice but to answer."

[womanofvalor.livejournal.com]

She knew that look. She had seen it in the hundreds of faces of men who knew that they would not return to their home and kin, in the faces of soldiers who knew that their next journey would be their last. It grieved her to see this look on them, and it grieved her now to see it on the face of one who had become so dear to her. At least with the men of the Mark Éowyn knew that she could do something for them, that she could comfort them ere they rode to meet their doom. What could she offer Lord Faramir here and now?

"Where are you to ride?" she asked instead.

[ifishouldreturn.livejournal.com]

"To Ithilien and into the shadow of the dark tower," he answered truthfully.

He wanted nothing from her but her friendship. Éowyn, fair and bright and sorrowful, had been an unexpected source of light in the blackest of days. She would continue to be one - a reminder of everything in Middle-earth that was worth fighting for - until he breathed his last on the field of battle.

"I do not have much time left in the city," he confessed, "But I am glad of a chance to speak to you once more."

[womanofvalor.livejournal.com]

Éowyn lowered her head and smiled, though her heart stirred. He spoke as if they would not talk like this again - and the very thought filled her with much sorrow. She had so few allies and she did not wish to lose one she had so recently found.

"Your father wants to know if the enemy is moving," she said softly, even if she silently questioned the act. Surely they need only to look at the increased attacks of Orcs and wild men to know that indeed, they were. Then again, more concrete plans to defend and fight could be done once the enemies' exact position had been identified. Perhaps this was in Lord Denethor's mind.

Then, "I do not think he would send you to do this crucial task if he does not trust you to return--" Alive. "--my lord."

[ifishouldreturn.livejournal.com]

"I ... I did not realise that the community had seen fit to share our conversation."

He was embarrassed, though he endeavored not to show as much. His relationship with his father was complicated, to say the least, and it was something that he would have preferred to keep private. For the sake of Gondor, Denethor's instability must remain hidden.

"As do we all," he noted. They all knew what was on the mind of the enemy. What they needed to know was when they were going to act. "He expects me to return. I do not believe I shall."

[womanofvalor.livejournal.com]

She had not wished to reveal the embarrassing truth to him, and too late did she realize her error. Éowyn hesitated before saying, "It is a wicked habit of our links to the community, I believe. If not for these opportunities to speak with you and my brother, I would have banished mine completely." Yet she would not.

His revelation came not as a surprise to her, but still it pained her to hear him say it. "You are a Captain of Gondor," Éowyn said. "I see in you strength and skill difficult to surpass, even by the mightiest in our land. I believe that you will."

[ifishouldreturn.livejournal.com]

The fault was not Éowyn's and Faramir could no more blame her for observing the conversation than he could blame her for the fact that it had occurred.

"And a reminder that the community serves it's own interests, not ours alone. There are times when that is easy to forget."

Particularly when he was speaking to Éowyn.

Though he could not believe her words - his strange certainty was too strong for that - Faramir was moved by her words. For a moment he was silent, simply savouring it.

"Thank you, my lady. Perhaps you are right. I do not wish to leave the battle before the end. Or before I have been able to speak to you without the use of this strange technology."

[womanofvalor.livejournal.com]

"Gondor will suffer your absence," she told him, certain that she was right. "As would all Men once the battle comes. Forgive me for speaking plainly, but I do not think you should so lightly think of yourself or your abilities, my lord. I do not doubt that there are many who love and respect you, and think only the best of you." Herself included, if she were to be honest.

Éowyn gave him a look, before hesitantly smiling at him. "I would gladly welcome the company of the Captain," she said. "As would my brother and my King. My uncle would be most glad to meet you, even if I do not think I could so adequately explain how it is that I know of the Lord Faramir when I have yet to step out of Rohan."

[ifishouldreturn.livejournal.com]

“You have no cause to ask for forgiveness.” Quite the opposite, he was glad that she felt comfortable enough to speak to him freely. (He wondered if things would be the same if they had met under different circumstances, without the intermediary of the community. He liked to believe that they would be.) “I am grateful.”

Her faith in him was both welcome and unexpected. It was worth more to him that he could ever truly explain.

“For his own sake, we would have to conceal the truth of the community from him.”

[womanofvalour.livejournal.com]

She nodded. "Once he is well, and free of evil influence I shall gladly tell him about our discovery. I have no doubt he will share in our joy and confusion with it. But until then..." Éowyn allowed a moment to dwell in her thoughts, before shaking her head. "But let us not speak of it now. You are to leave and I wish you a safe journey, and a triumphant return."

Then, "And if you would allow it, I would wish that Rohan, too, would benefit from whatever news you shall bring." Trouble came to the Mark through Isengard, but it was foolish to believe that the threat ended there.

[ifishouldreturn.livejournal.com]

He would not return. He had ridden into battle more times than he could count and he had often faced dangers beyond the compression of many, but he had never felt this strange certainty before. It was not necessarily that he thought his men would fail in their task. It was simply that he would not return to Minas Tirith to savour their victory.

But one look at Éowyn's countenance prevented him from telling her as much. He did not want to cause her sorrow. He did not want to see her grief when there was nothing he could do to offer her comfort.

“Of course, my lady. We are allies as well as friends.”

[womanofvalour.livejournal.com]

She smiled at him. "I am glad to hear it. Thank you, my lord. I shall look forward to speaking with you again."

[ifishouldreturn.livejournal.com]

"And I to you," he said, with an inclination of his head. It did not hurt to hope that he would see her again. If anything, his hope might give him the strength to overcome the strange prophecy that had darkened his morning. "I hope I will have good tidings to share."