The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate.

Away, and mock the time with fairest show;
False face must hide what the false heart doth know. -William Shakespeare (1564–1616), Macbeth, act 1, sc. 7, l. 81-2.

“Whatever is the matter?” Éowyn’s grey eyes were wide with concern.

“I felt a sudden pain here," Faramir grimaced and rubbed his shoulder. "It is easing now, so there is no cause for concern. I have had similar pains in my back a few days ago, it must be grief and worry causing it.”

“Let me see!” Éowyn insisted.

“It is nothing, I am well now. There is no need.”

Ignoring his objections, Éowyn pulled aside her husband’s clothing and bared his shoulder. To her consternation, an angry red mark disfigured the flesh. Most curiously, it grew fainter, even as she looked at it.

“Take your tunic and shirt off!” she demanded. “I want to see if you have any more these marks on your body.”

“But the Queen might come in!” Faramir protested.

“I am sure she has seen a shirtless man before, whatever your Gondorian rules of etiquette state!” Éowyn said firmly.

Realising further objections were futile, Faramir reluctantly obeyed.

“What did you feel?” Éowyn asked. “Hold your arms out so I can see them.”

“It were if I had been flogged,” he explained, casting an anxious glance towards the doorway, “I woke up feeling very stiff and sore all down my back.”

Éowyn carefully examined him. There was nothing to see. His skin was unblemished; thanks to the Elvish treatments Aragorn had given him.

“Maybe your back was sore from riding and it could have been an insect bite on your shoulder?”  Éowyn frowned, hating to admit she was baffled.

“But it does not itch and what insect bite fades so quickly?” Faramir shook his head in bewilderment. “And the pain, it was truly excruciating!”

Éowyn looked worried. “You should stay here a while then, rather than go rushing back to Minas Tirith,” she said.

Before he could answer his wife, Faramir heard footsteps approaching. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it back on just in time before Arwen entered the room.

“What is wrong?” the Queen asked, noticing their expressions.

“Faramir is experiencing strange pains in his back and shoulder. I am worried about him, though I cannot find any injury on him,” Éowyn explained.

“Maybe he is feeling Estel’s pain?” Arwen suggested.

Faramir looked horrified and then shook his head. ”How could such a thing be possible?”

“When my brothers are apart they always know if one is injured or in pain,” Arwen replied.

“They are twins, though my lady. The King and I are not. Then were such a thing possible, would you not feel it too as his wife?”

“You and Estel have an exceptionally strong Thought Bond, due to the circumstances in which it was formed,” Arwen replied. “Such a bond cannot ever be formed without love, but in your case, Estel gave a good deal of himself, in saving your life at the same time. That, together with the gratitude you felt, would have deepened the bond you formed that day. Estel told me it was a truly remarkable spiritual experience for you both. My bond with my husband is deep and true, but it was formed at the happy time of our betrothal, not as a way of saving my life.”

“It was,” Faramir said wistfully.” I very much hope you are wrong, though, about my feeling the King’s pain. I am sure it must be because I am distressed. Maybe, I never grieved properly for Boromir, as we were in the middle of a war and this could have brought all that back to me as well.” He desperately wanted this explanation to be true, for he could not bear to think of Aragorn being beaten and tortured, nor that his wife should have to dwell on such unspeakable thoughts. He tried to dismiss the images from his dreams of the King’s bloodied and bruised face.

“You should stay another day at least!” Éowyn pleaded, “You are not well. Your sorrow hangs heavy on your soul.”

Faramir shook his head, “I cannot, my love, we both know how important our duty is. I assure you the pain has gone now. I must be on my way after I have breakfasted. I intend to send Damrod to take you and the Queen somewhere safer until I have discovered what has happened to Aragorn. Should I not return, you must try to make your way to Rohan and seek aid from your brother. I would tell you to go now, but the journey is too perilous at this time of year for mothers with young babies.”

“Do not speak of such things!” Éowyn pleaded. Arwen tactfully withdrew, sensing their need for a few moments privacy.

Faramir gripped his wife’s hands tightly. “I fear that I must, beloved. I know you have the courage and strength to face whatever lies ahead. I know it will not be easy. Damrod will take you into hiding. I expect you and Arwen will have to disguise yourselves as peasants. You will need to dye your hair to pass as a Gondorian, I fear. Take care of the Queen; try to keep her attention on Eldarion’s need for her. She must not be allowed to fade.”

Éowyn nodded gravely, “I will do as you say, but how I wish I could come with you. I know, though, that my duty lies here!”

Faramir drew her close and they shared a lingering kiss.

Breakfast seemed to pass all too quickly. An hour later Faramir was ready to return to Minas Tirith. He respectfully knelt before his Queen to take his leave.

Arwen placed both hands on his head. Faramir felt a sense of great power and strength surge through his body.

“May the blessing of the Valar go with you and their protection be upon you!” she said gravely. “I await your safe return with my husband.”

“If he yet lives, I will gladly give my all to restore him to you, whatever the cost!” Faramir vowed, clasping the hilt of his sword.

“I hope only that cost is not more than either you or Estel can bear!” Arwen replied. “Your heart, though, Faramir, is pure and true, while the great love that you bear for my husband will guide you.”

Faramir rose to his feet and kissed his Queen’s hand. Arwen excused herself to care for Eldarion leaving the Steward to bid a sad and loving farewell to his wife and daughter.

Faramir returned to the City via little known paths. He was constantly on the look out for any sign of pursuit. Despite the ever-present threat of danger, his heart was far lighter than it had been the day before, lifted by even this mere thread of a possibility that Aragorn was still alive. Faramir was no stranger to intrigue. There had always been factions within the Council that opposed his father’s rule. In Denethor’s day, voicing such thoughts aloud would have been construed as treason, and punished by banishment or even death. Maybe Aragorn was too good-natured by allowing such free debate and treating his enemies leniently? Yet, that was part of what was made the man so lovable? Like his Steward, he hated to use violence and cruelty. Despite murmurs to the contrary, none had been more relieved than Faramir, when Mahrod had been granted a swift and merciful execution, rather than the slow and agonising one the law allowed.

Faramir glanced at Aragorn’s ring now on his finger and wondered how he could pretend convincingly to hate its rightful owner. Yet, he knew if there a chance, however slight to save his lord, he would take it or die in the attempt. He twisted the ring thoughtfully; comforted when it made him feel closer to the King. He hoped that wearing it would somehow endow him with Aragorn’s strength and courage. He no longer dared to wear the brooch that Aragorn had given him openly on his cloak, but instead had it pinned inside his shirt. From this day onwards, all signs of his friendship with the King must be hidden.

The Steward managed to enter the City almost unnoticed. He knew the guard on the gate. Aragorn had recently abolished the custom of sounding the trumpets when the lords of Gondor returned, except on state occasions. Together with Faramir, they had agreed it was unnecessary pomp, and often robbed the good citizens of much needed sleep.

Before anyone could notice he had returned, and inform the lords on the Council, he made his way to the Barracks and enquired if Anborn and his men had come back. They had not, which only added to his worry. He then sought out Damrod.

Under the pretext of reprimanding the young Captain that his boots were not polished sufficiently, Faramir drew Damrod aside and explained that a message would be delivered to him later that day, supposedly summoning him to the bedside of his sick mother. He was to depart immediately, but instead make his way to Emyn Arnen and take the Queen, Éowyn and the babies to a safe hiding place and return the next day, saying that his mother was feeling much better.

“I will take them to my sister’s home, she lives near Osgiliath.” Damrod replied without hesitation, quickly summing up the situation. “I fear it is not an abode fitting for the Queen or Lady Éowyn, but my sister will make them most welcome. Many of us Rangers settled there after the war and built homes after King Elessar made it safe to dwell there again. He was a good man and will be sorely missed. I will gladly do all I can for his Queen, poor lady! ”

“Thank you, Damrod,” Faramir said quietly, “You must tell no one and guard the secret with your life. Get those boots polished!” he yelled for the benefit of anyone who might be listening. He then went to stables to see that Iavas was being properly tended after the long ride.

Faramir went quickly to his own apartments and bathed and changed, taking care to choose apparel that was not at all funereal in appearance. The deception had to begin as soon as possible, if there were to be any chance of saving Aragorn.

His secretary approached, carrying a sheaf of papers. “These require your urgent attention, my lord,” the man said.

“Thank you, Delos. I wish to summon the Lords of the Realm to an important meeting.”

“It shall be done, my lord.”

Faramir smiled cheerfully and whistled as he walked through the stone corridors of the Royal Apartments.

***

“My lords,” he announced next morning to the Council, “I have informed the Queen of the late King’s death, but she refused to return with me and instead has set out to perform a mourning ritual, which is the custom of her people. She has assured me that she, together with the new King, will return for the funeral, which will be held as soon as the fever abates. Until then, I propose that the Council rule Gondor with Prince Imrahil and myself in charge. We will met again in five days time.”

He raised his hand to dismiss them. A collective gasp echoed round the chamber when the assembled lords saw that he was wearing the Ring of Barahir.

“You wear King Elessar’s Ring!” Imrahil gasped in shock.

Faramir was unable to meet his eye as he replied, ”Why should I not wear it?” he demanded belligerently. “Prince Eldarion is far too young to appreciate such a valuable heirloom, and the Stewards have borne the weight of Gondor’s rule far longer than the heirs of Isildur. You are all dismissed.”

He could only wait now until the next meeting, hoping that flaunting the Ring of Barahir so openly would cause tongues to wag carelessly enough for him to learn what had befallen his King.

He strode from the Chamber, the first to leave, in order to avoid any questions, most especially from his Uncle.

The Prince came to his apartments later, requesting an audience. Faramir sent a message saying that he was indisposed. Much as he wished, that he could take his Uncle into his confidence, he knew that to do so now, would jeopardise his whole plan. If Imrahil’s shock and disapproval were genuine, it would make it far easier to convince the other lords of his seeming treachery

He had decided to claim the King’s chambers as his own, to underline his apparent seizure of power. He had been loth to return to his own rooms before, feeling that having the doors sealed was somehow akin to abandoning Aragorn. He searched through Aragorn’s clothing as soon as he returned and found Arwen was correct. Every single pair of the King’s drawers was indeed embroidered with the white tree, as were all his linens.

Faramir spent the next few days mainly within his chambers while he tried to plan what to next. So far, he had learned nothing. He was sorely tempted to take a sizable troop of guards and search the houses of the lords he suspected. What, though if they saw his approach and killed Aragorn? Then, there was the added complication that the Lord of Lamedon, as did all his fellows, owned several residences as well as isolated hunting lodges, scattered throughout the country. It was like seeking a needle in a haystack. All Faramir could do was hope he could draw them out.