Disclaimer: The usual…these characters don’t belong to me but to J.R.R. Tolkien and to New Line, Peter, Fran, and Philippa. I make no profit from this story and have returned all characters well fed and rested.

Author’s Notes: It always startles me when I read ROTK and get to the bit where Aragorn just announces that Faramir is the Prince of Ithilien. Rather abrupt if you ask me, since Beregond is stunned at his good fortune and we don’t get to see any surprise from Faramir. Probably one of those bits that J.R.R.T. said he lost somewhere and was too lazy to recreate… :)

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Safe Haven

By Songspinner

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Exasperated, Faramir just managed to stop himself before he threw the roll of parchment across the chamber. The young Steward dropped it and let his hand slam down on the polished wood of the table.

"I spent far too long in healing you to see you do more damage now, Faramir." Aragorn’s voice rang out from the doorway, making the other man startle.

"My lord…" Faramir began in protest, and then shut his mouth when he saw the twinkle in those grey eyes. "I shall endeavour not to destroy all of your hard work, then."

"I rejoice to hear it. And I shall remind you to call me Aragorn yet again." Aragorn returned dryly. He picked up Faramir’s hand and examined it carefully in what little light remained at the end of the sunset. "Only a bruise, I think. Gondor’s new king and steward shall be a matched set at this rate…" He held up his other hand for Faramir to view, as it was still covered in healing bruises and cuts from more than one recent battle. "You look tired, however. You’ve worried about everyone but yourself. You’ve worked hard to coordinate this coronation ceremony, and the Valar help us — you’re the only one here who knows this much about protocol and traditions. If you need to rest…there is a Council meeting in the Great Hall in a half an hour, and I assumed you wouldn’t want to miss it."

A shudder went through Faramir that he couldn’t quite hide. He ducked his head quickly, not meeting the older man’s gaze. Unfortunately, he also couldn’t hide how his hands had begun shaking, not with Aragorn still grasping one of them.

"Faramir?"

"I…I am quite all right, my lor…Aragorn."

"Nay, you are not." And he felt the grip on his hand tighten gently. "Will you tell me what affects you so?"

"I cannot…" Faramir managed to whisper. "It is…"

"Faramir," Aragorn said softly. "This fear has kept you isolated in here for several days and I am not the only one worried. Pippin came to me this morning, as did Beregond. Please. If you cannot tell me here, then let us go where you can, where you feel safe."

Taking a decidedly uneven breath, Faramir found his thoughts spinning at his new friend’s insight. "When we…when Boromir and I were small, we used to go to what had been our mother’s balcony." He clenched his jaw, determined to gain control.

"Then let us go there now. Let me help you. I should like to think that you are a friend, and friends do such for one another." Aragorn’s voice was pleading, hopeful.

Nodding, unable to trust his voice, Faramir allowed himself to be helped to his feet and led down the long hallway. With his head down again, he didn’t notice they were there for a moment. The younger man’s eyes widened in shock when he finally noticed the ease with which Aragorn had found the place. "How did…"

Aragorn smiled sadly. "How did I know the location of this room? Your father and mother knew me, long ago, as Thorongil when I resided for a time in Minas Tirith. She and I had many a conversation here. Your brother knew me then as well, but did not remember me by the time we met again in Rivendell." He paused and leaned on the stone parapet. "I could not heal Finduilas, no matter how hard I tried, but I would help her son if I could."

Faramir stared into the darkness, watching the flickering of watch-fires on the field below. The flames seemed to blur and fade into shadow for some reason. "It is only…" His voice sounded strained even to his own ears. "Everywhere I go here, the memories follow. In the Hall…" He shuddered violently again. "I must brace myself to enter it each time. My last clear memory of my father was being in that place. He said…he…he wished that I had died instead of Boromir and that he expected me to fail."

"Pippin told me something of that day." Aragorn said quietly. "He spoke of waiting for you to return, hoping that somehow you would survive. How hard he fought to keep you alive when you did return. And you know that no one sees what happened at Osgiliath as a failure, Faramir. Surely you know that you did all you could."

"I do not have clear memories of when…of when Pippin and Mithrandir helped to save me, but…" He finally turned to look at Aragorn. "There is no place here that is devoid of memory, and the memories hurt. If they are not dark moments then they remind me of…of what I’ve lost. The Rangers I lost at Osgiliath…"

"Boromir." Aragorn said, clearly not asking.

"Yes." Faramir looked pleadingly at his king-to-be. "I do not wish to go, nor do I know where I would go, but even here, seeing Osgiliath in the distance, where I last saw him alive... I cannot find peace in my own home."

"Faramir," Aragorn murmured. "What do you wish to do?"

"If I leave now," Faramir managed to say hoarsely, "most will think I flee out of anger with you, or jealousy of your kingship. I’ve heard the rumours already, Aragorn. And where would I go? I would go to Rohan with Eowyn, but…" He pulled away from Aragorn and stared off into the night once again.

"Pippin suggested that you would be cheered by a visit to the Shire, you know." There was a smile in Aragorn’s voice. "There some was half-serious talk of kidnapping, although I pointed out that Eowyn would be most cross with him, and with Merry."

And Faramir couldn’t help a smile in response through his despair. "That sounds like Peregrin, indeed," he said, regaining some control over his voice. The blackness of night seemed to soften a little, and his eyes began to notice the stars again.

"I would agree with him, "Aragorn continued. "Given how happy I feel when I visit that beautiful place. But perhaps…Legolas wishes to bring some of his people to Ithilien, as does Gimli, although they wish to help rebuild here as well. They hope to create a community in Emyn Armen, and I think that you might do well as Prince of that land. Eowyn mentioned that she thought that you would like to live there."

"But …?" Faramir asked faintly.

"Faramir, surely you did not think that you would lose all once I am crowned?" The younger man’s lack of response was apparently all the answer Aragorn required. "Ah, Faramir…"

"I know you would not do so, truly, Aragorn." The hasty attempt at reassuring his lord did not seem to work.

Aragorn laid one hand on his shoulder. "But you have been through so much betrayal and loss that sometimes you could not countenance anything else."

Faramir nodded, speechless again in the face of this man reading him so well.

"Well, I shall need someone to rule there, and Legolas is hoping to share that duty with you and yours. And you’ll be close enough to join my Council when it is needed. Mithrandir taught you well, my friend, and I would have your knowledge put to good use." Aragorn tightened the grip on Faramir’s shoulder gently. "And I do see you as a friend and would not lose that new and fragile bond."

"I would not lose it, either." Faramir responded, his heart feeling lighter than it had in months. "It would…I would be honored, my friend."

"And I think that I have a solution to the problem of Beregond as well."

"That is actually why I’ve been in here today, aside from hiding." Faramir admitted with a shy smile. "I thought to find some precedent in the records that might free him from punishment. I do not wish anyone to suffer because he helped me. I know that you intend to ease the penalties in honor of his valor, but I cannot find a way to keep him from banishment at the least."

"No, I cannot completely take away all penalties, even in times of peace. That," Aragorn said, leaning on the balcony, "would undo trust of me and the old ways in a time I should be building it among our people."

With a nod of agreement to this insight, Faramir joined the other man at the railing. "That is true. You have a good grasp of such things, Aragorn."

"After decades of watching my foster father, Elrond, Halbarad, and Gandalf on top of that. I’ve had a great deal of practice and powerful examples. Your father was among those I watched, you know. He was a just man when he was younger — stern, but just. The palantír warped his soul." Aragorn glanced over at Faramir carefully. "Come to think of it, I also watched your grandfather."

Faramir chuckled quietly. "It is easy to forget that you are so much older than I. Ecthelion was a wise man."

"Indeed. His way of solving the problems of Gondor was in my mind as I sought a solution to our dilemma these many hours."

Faramir nodded, fidgeting with some lichen that grew on the stones under his hand. "How can we give Beregond reward instead of punishment? I have found nothing in the law that would…"

Aragorn grinned suddenly. "I may certainly remit the sentence of death, for his care of you, but I think that banishment from Minas Tirith, at least in terms of his home, would not go amiss."

Turning his head to stare at the older man at this odd statement, Faramir raised an eyebrow at him.

"If you are to have Ithilien, you will need a staunch Captain to be at your side."

Eyes wide with joy as he realized what Aragorn meant, Faramir grasped the older man’s arm. "That is…oh, that is most welcome to my ears and my heart, Aragorn. He has long been a good friend to me, and when he chose to stay and do his best to protect me…"

"Then let us be sure that he and his family will be at your side and safe, shall we? I assume that you would prefer to play scribe and write the document for me to sign?" Aragorn inquired with a twinkle in his eye.

"Oh, yes!" Faramir answered, and leant back against the rough stones of the railing in utter relief. "I would, indeed."

"He did what he did out of love and respect for you, Faramir. Where your father ended in ruling by fear, you have done and shall do the opposite. Love holds a man to loyalty more truly than fear, and you have already been able to inspire that in many men."

Blushing to hear such words, the young Steward ran one hand through his short hair. "As have you, my lord."

"You are not your father, Faramir, and your Rangers have long followed you with utter trust. I suspect that a great many of them will follow you now to Ithilien." Aragorn slung a companionable arm across Faramir’s shoulders and nodded his head in the direction of the Great Hall. "So, if we can survive this Council meeting, let us meet after the evening meal and draw up some more cheerful documents."

Faramir smiled and allowed Aragorn steer him back to stand in the door of his study. "You remind me of my brother just now…not one for diplomacy and talk, but good at it nonetheless."

"Ah." The older man’s was twitching in the direction of a smile at his Steward’s honesty.

Faramir turned to look at his future king. "When I awoke in the House of Healing, Aragorn, I did so because you found me and made me feel safe. I had not had that feeling since Boromir left. I just knew that it was time to return and that there was a place for me, in which I was valued. Forgive me if it takes some time to get used to that feeling again?"

Aragorn responded in a voice grown husky with emotion. "I, too, have many years of uncertainty of where I belonged. Shall we do it together, then?"

Faramir nodded and leaned forward to rest his head for a moment on the shoulder of this newly-found brother. "Yes. I should like that very much." They stayed that way for a bit as ragged breathing steadied and heartbeats slowed. Finally he straightened with a little sigh and gestured that they could continue toward the Hall. He grinned suddenly as they matched strides down the corridor. "You should probably mention your plans to Pippin, lest he go ahead with his own plans. His loyalty is quite persistent, and as you have just found a way to sweeten the fate of one of your men, I would hate to see you have to exile a hobbit."

Laughter mingling with Faramir’s own, Aragorn finally shook his head and looked over at him again. "Will you join the meeting today, if it is not too hard for you? I would give you better memories of that place and the comfort of friends. If it does not seem amiss, I shall ask Pippin to be near you in the Council when we meet from now on, as I suspect he might need much the same."

"I....yes,but..." Faramir murmured, still fighting uncertainty. Surely it was not proper to be showing weakness to his liege-lord…

"Faramir." Aragorn’s calloused hand slid around the back of his neck to give a gentle squeeze as he slowed their pace to a sudden halt. "I was raised in Rivendell, as you know, where the elves place no limit of time on one’s grief. Take as much as you need, mellon nin, but remember that you are not alone."

Slowly, Faramir raised his gaze again to meet his lord’s grey eyes. The Sindarin phrase was echoing through his head and its implications further cleared away any lingering hints of his father’s insistent ways. "I shall not forget. And yes, I shall be at the Council. Knowing that Ithilien will be my home and refuge helps a great deal."

"It is well, then." Aragorn said with obvious satisfaction. "These, at least, were things I could imagine finding remedy for." He paused and looked a bit worried. "The council is another matter, I am afraid."

"Surely not." Faramir grinned at the other man as he used to do with his own brother. "A ragtag group of Gondorian nobles is more terrifying than an army of orcs?" And laughing again, he ducked a half-hearted swat from the hand of his future king…