Faramir Fiction Archive

Some Other End (R)

Written by Lexin

14 December 2005 | 39687 words

Part V

I am not hungry; but thank goodness I am greedy.
Punch vol lxxv. p290 1878

Had Faramir ever considered the matter he would not have expected a hobbit wedding to be enjoyable. His own handfasting, under the eye of his father and the king, had been a rather solemn affair, he could now see why Peregrin and Meriadoc had felt something lacking. If by 'lacking' they meant that nobody danced on tables or round maypoles (though it was not May), nobody fed beer to their pig, and there were no children throwing cake, it certainly had been. On the other hand, and here Faramir averted his eyes, nobody had been sick over a fence.

He tried to imagine his father at a hobbit wedding - the wine seemed to be going to his head - and failed. He had no trouble with Arwen or with Aragorn, though he did have to think of them that way rather than as king and queen, and could even see Elrond in this setting. Boromir would have a fine time, and Éowyn was never standoffish with anyone. But not Denethor. He could suck the joy out of a May morning.

"Hugo!" Frodo addressed the hobbit who had been lecturing Faramir for some time. "May I interrupt? Faramir, I need you to help me with something."

"Certainly, certainly," Hugo waved a hand a little vaguely. "I like your young Man, Frodo. Very sound on pigs."

"Oh, good," said Frodo.

"What did you want me for?" asked Faramir as they crossed the field.

"Nothing. I thought Hugo must have got onto pigs again. You have to stop him before he starts or he can go on for hours."

"He had. But I was thinking about something else, so it didn't matter."

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Listen and look interested and think about something else at the same time."

"Practise," said Faramir, thinking of Minas Tirith. "If you'd grown up as I did you could probably do it, too."

They chose a bench near Farmer and Mrs Cotton; Rose's parents were turned out in their very best clothes, and Faramir was rather impressed with how fine those were.

Mrs Cotton looked across at them as they sat, "Oh, Mr Frodo, I've a letter for you. Came up from Sarn Ford last night it did, and I put it in my bag to bring." She searched in the basket for a few moments and then passed it over. She looked a little disappointed when Frodo tucked the package inside his waistcoat and took no more notice of it.

---

Next morning, Faramir had something of a headache. Frodo was rarely troubled with hangovers but the hearty red wine of the hobbits always affected Faramir. He was therefore somewhat less than his usual gracious self on entering the kitchen. "What is it?" he asked on seeing Frodo.

"I've had a letter from the King," said Frodo.

"From Aragorn? What does it say?"

"Here." Frodo threw it across the table. "He's making me Prince of Eriador." Frodo waited until Faramir had read the letter and said, "What shall I do?"

"Rule," said Faramir. "You can hardly refuse."

"But I don't know what a prince does. It would be much better had he made you..."

"He can't. It would offend my father to have both his sons made princes and not extend the same title to him. Better to give the job to the Ringbearer whom all admire than to the man Denethor has told them all his life is worth very little."

Frodo looked horrified, "Did your father say that to you?"

"He told Boromir once that he knew me and that I had few uses, yes. But he did not know that I was within hearing." Faramir sighed. "I think he would have much preferred it had I been a maid-child. There were a great many princes in the south, and not many princesses. I would have had a great deal more value to him."

"There's a couple of letters for you, too," Frodo pushed them across the table.

"This one's addressed to you," Faramir picked up one in Aragorn's hand.

"I know. But it's actually for you; I just reached the part where Aragorn says that Denethor has told him that it is not permitted for a man to write to another's spouse to whom he's not related by blood. Then I stopped. I'm not reading your letters, whatever 'Gondorian custom' your father has invented on the spot to humiliate you."

"Thank you," Faramir was rather surprised at how angry Frodo sounded. "It is a real custom," he said. "Though a very old fashioned one, and even then mostly applied to women." From Frodo's snort as he stood to make breakfast, Faramir gathered he wasn't impressed.

By the time breakfast had been cooked and served, Faramir had read all the letters. Frodo looked politely interested, but asked no questions. Faramir let him wait for a few minutes while he finished his tea, and then said, "You can read them if you like. Father still despises me; Aragorn says I am to help you with your new duties. My brother's wife has had a baby, it's a boy. My father's wife has had a girl. Boromir is thrilled of course, and father is furious, but not admitting it." He shifted the cup in its saucer, then added, "Do not tell my father I said so, but it is a relief to live here and not at Court. There is something I would ask, though?"

"Go on," said Frodo.

"What does Aragorn mean when he comments that you own half of Eriador?"

Frodo coloured in a way rather unlike him. "Your dowry...your father had little gold, war is an expensive business even when you win." Frodo took a deep breath, "Sam negotiated a series of land transactions between your father, Aragorn, Queen Arwen and me. The end result is that I own a substantial portion of land between the Brandywine River and the Mitheithel, the river we call the Hoarwell. And Bag End, of course, which Lobelia returned to me."

Faramir considered this. "That makes you probably the wealthiest person alive who is not actually the King," he said.

"In land, perhaps. And only through you."

"Is the size of my dowry a measure of my father's desperation to be rid of me?" Somehow, that idea still hurt.

"Don't blame Sam," said Frodo. "He was trying to make the dowry so large that your father would drop the idea. As you can tell, he didn't succeed."

In other words, yes, or so Faramir thought. He picked up and re-read Aragorn's letter. "He says he will be in Bree on mid-year's day for your investiture."

"My...?"

"The ceremony in which you are made a prince."

Frodo went still for a moment, and then he said, "Let us hope he does not bring your father."

---

Bree appeared to be ready for a fine old time. All the flags were out, obviously made for the occasion, some of them out of someone's old frocks. There were flowers in profusion everywhere, in window boxes but also on street corners where the unwary, and the drunk, would trip over them.

Fully half of the Shire had made the journey to Bree with Faramir and Frodo. Frodo had been all for keeping this a secret, and that had worked well until Jolly Cotton had taken a bushel of Longbottom Leaf to Bree in early April. They had been preparing for the King's visit even then and on the tip of Jolly's wagging tongue, the story of Frodo's imminent elevation went around Hobbiton, Bywater, and even Michel Delving in somewhat less than a trice.

Of course the likes of Ted Sandyman thought it a huge joke and took to calling him 'Prince Frodo' immediately. Samwise, on the other hand, appeared genuinely delighted. It had been clear to Faramir that he had long felt Frodo received insufficient admiration from his fellow hobbits, admiration they gave Meriadoc, Peregrin and even Samwise himself as of course. That he'd brought a Man from foreign parts and lived with him as a husband added to Frodo's notoriety and to the legend of 'Mad Baggins', but gained him no admiration.

"I'm glad to see you both here at last!" said Barliman Butterbur as they dismounted from the horse and pony in his stable yard. "Bob! Bob, take their horses, I know you've been keeping a place for 'em. And I've your rooms all ready, Mr Baggins, sir. Or should I say Prince Frodo?"

"Not for a few days yet," said Frodo. "Let me keep my plain hobbit name while I can."

Butterbur led the way into the inn, which seemed to be heaving with people. "Business is good, then, Barliman?" asked Faramir.

"That it is, Mr Faramir, sir. We're that busy I don't know if I'm on my head or my heels, if you see what I mean?"

"Only too well."

"To think of it, a King staying at the Pony! I never thought I'd live to see it! And he's brought his good lady. I should say, Queen Arwen. And a mort of other lords and princes. There's one of 'em who says he's your brother, though I wasn't sure whether to believe him. He sort of looks like you right enough..."

"Boromir's here?"

"Yes, that's his name. Boromir. Nice enough young fellow..."

Frodo broke in, "When we've had a chance to wash and have something to eat, could you send Boromir to us?" He looked up at Faramir, "You'll want to see him privately?"

"Yes."

"I'll do my best for you, Mr Baggins," said Barliman.

"Thank you, Mr Butterbur."

---

Faramir jumped every time someone knocked on their parlour door, first at Bob with hot water, then at Butterbur himself with Nob at his heels bringing food.

"Calmly!" said Frodo, laughing. "You'll upset something, probably the milk." Then, "You’ve really missed your brother, haven't you?"

Faramir looked up, seeing only sympathy on Frodo's face, "Yes. More than I can say. More than I was aware of."

A further knock on the door, and Faramir was met with a hug from Boromir. Caught up in this he did not realise for a moment that his brother was not alone, and then it took him a moment to compose himself. "Father." He held a hand out to Denethor who took it disdainfully and let go as quickly as he could.

"How are you, my brother?" Boromir was the first to break the silence.

"Well. Thank you." Faramir cursed himself silently that he was always so stilted before his father. "How is Éowyn? Did she travel with you?"

"Alas no, she..."

"The lady is again with child," said Denethor. It was not possible to tell if he approved or did not, but Faramir saw his brother's frozen expression and gathered that he did not.

"Perhaps you would care to join me in the remains of a meal, Lord Denethor?" said Frodo. "It would permit my husband and his brother to re-acquaint themselves." In politeness, Denethor could hardly refuse this invitation and thus Faramir was freed to sit with Boromir next to the window at the other end of the room.

"How are matters with you?" Boromir asked, his voice quiet. "When you left Minas Tirith I wondered..."

"Well," said Faramir. "Truly. I am not unhappy. And you? How is life as a father?"

Boromir smiled, joy in every line of his face, "He is already a prodigy - I can tell he's going to be an outstanding warrior."

"Will there be ought left to fight? You shock me, my brother, I had imagined peace in the southlands..."

"Have you taken to smoking that infernal pipe-weed?"

"Not yet." Faramir felt his face heat slightly. He had tried it one night when Frodo had been away, but had been thoroughly sick and resolved never to repeat the experiment. "And father?" He lowered his voice, "How does he do?"

Boromir's expression spoke volumes to one who knew him well, but he said, "Well enough."

"Good. And the Lady Prestoliel?"

"She is well."

There was clearly more behind that than Boromir could say, Faramir would have to wait for a more auspicious moment to hear it.

---

Dinner that night was a semi-public event with the King and Queen presiding and Frodo and Faramir with them. The room was the largest hall Bree had to offer, and it was not over-large. It was also rather cold, despite it wanting only a few days to midsummer.

From the expression on his father's face, Faramir thought he knew Denethor's opinion on the accommodations and the food. He therefore ensured Denethor heard him congratulate Barliman Butterbur and the folk of Bree on their efforts. He would not, could not, allow their people to be sneered at because their service did not match a King's house and servants who had trained over generations. Denethor's sneer narrowed to him alone.

---

Night came on and Faramir and Frodo returned to their rooms at the Inn. Frodo said, "I heard what you said to Boromir."

Curse those sharp hobbit ears, they missed nothing. Faramir, already in bed, looked up at him. Frodo's face was unreadable. Faramir said, "Did you?"

"About not being unhappy. Did you mean it?"

"Yes."

"Does that mean you expected to be so and married me anyway?"

"I had no clear expectation." He held his hand out, "Frodo, come to bed. Please? There is something I would ask of you."

Frodo climbed in beside him but remained sitting, "What is this thing? I warn you, if a great deal of effort is required you are likely to be unlucky."

"I think this should not prove beyond your strength." He leaned towards Frodo and spoke, very quietly, into one of the hobbit's slightly pointed ears.

"Are you sure?" asked Frodo. "The plaster has not stopped falling from when we did that in Bag End."

"I want it."

"Here and now?"

"Yes."

"Very well." Frodo's tone was that of a hobbit who clearly believed this to be a bad idea. "You are sure?"

"Very much so." He leaned up and their mouths met.

---

"Faramir, my dear husband." When Frodo used that phrase, Faramir paid attention. "A word, please." They moved away from the others; practising for the ceremony was taking all morning. Faramir believed the King had not rehearsed this much for his own coronation. "You have been looking like the cat shut in the dairy all morning," said Frodo. "Had you any idea last night who had the rooms next to ours?"

"I did not know for certain."

"It is not like you to prevaricate."

"But I had guessed that ours and the rooms either side were the best in the inn."

"And were you louder than you need have been?"

That at least Faramir could be completely honest about, "No. When you do that I..."

"I recall, I was there. Your father has spent all morning looking as if he has eaten dirt." Frodo looked him up and down, "There are hidden depths to you, my husband. See that they do not get out of hand." He walked away a few steps, then turned back, "I'm not saying that I didn't enjoy it, mind."

---

Of course, that was not the end of the matter. Queen Arwen had little enough to do but sit and be beautiful, something she did consummately well with little need to practise; Faramir found himself next to her as they waited while Frodo and King Aragorn went through the moves they must make. "I have never stayed at an Inn before," she confided, "but I am finding it most illuminating."

"My Queen?"

She smiled, "The most extraordinary things one hears. I had a most entertaining time getting Aragorn to explain them to me." Her look grew almost impish, "And a much better time once I persuaded him to demonstrate." Faramir could think of nothing to say in reply to that, and dared not smile. Arwen's face looked deceptively guileless and Faramir stiffened; he'd been caught out by that look before. She said, "I have to give serious consideration to what gift I should find for your husband. What do you think he might appreciate?"

The trouble with having one's leg gently pulled by a Queen was that hysteria would be looked upon askance. The effort at keeping his face straight nearly killing him, Faramir said, "I am sure whatever my Queen decides on will be entirely appropriate."

"Ah," she slid her eyes at him, "in that case I shall present the whip to Frodo privately."

---

"I am to blame; I was too accommodating." Denethor took a turn around his private room. "When you were a boy, I made too many allowances for your weakness. Now what has become of you? A harlot! A whore for the depraved desires of a halfling!"

Since this was precisely what Faramir had expected Denethor to think, though not to say to his face, he remained silent.

"What? No protestations of innocence?"

"No, father," said Faramir.

"You have nothing to say for yourself at all?"

"No, father."

Denethor sat down, "What did he do it for? To rub my face in it?"

That could not be allowed to pass. "He... I asked him to take me knowing that you would hear. He had no idea you were in the next room."

"And if he had known?"

"He would have refused."

Denethor's eyes searched his face, and Faramir fought not to look down. "Why did you do this?" he asked.

"I wanted you to know, to understand, that my marriage to Frodo is not just land and paper."

"You humiliated me."

"No, father. I lay with my husband full willing. I do not feel that humiliates either me or him."

"You disgust me."

Faramir swallowed. "At last you are honest with me, father. May I go now?"

---

And finally, Boromir, his expression somehow nervous.

As he did not seem inclined to speak, Faramir said, "I have not seen you all day."

"I went for a walk."

"Queen Arwen was concerned you would miss the rehearsals."

"Why did you...?"

Faramir sighed, "I have just had all this out with father."

"Am I worth less?"

"No! Never that. Frodo is a hobbit worthy of love and respect, and I do love and respect him. Hobbits have strong appetites for food and drink," Faramir paused, "and also for other pleasures. In that regard I sometimes fall short."

"But not last night."

"As you say." Faramir smiled to himself. "And I wished to annoy father. Which I did."

"I never thought I would say this, my brother, but Frodo should take a whip to your hide."

"I believe you are the second person to suggest that to me today."

---

The ceremony itself was long and rather dull. Even Faramir thought so, and he was accustomed to long dull ceremonies. It was of course impossible to suggest that Queen Arwen had slept through it but Faramir very much envied her the elvish capacity to rest with their eyes open.

There was not enough room at the Prancing Pony, or the other inns in Bree, to accommodate all those who wished to celebrate their new princes. That didn't stop the celebration, indeed as the cavalcade made its way through the streets to the Town Hall, Faramir caught sight of several men and hobbits with ale mugs in their hands and visibly the worse for drink. He sincerely hoped they stayed on the cheerful side of drunk but had no such expectation: he had lived at Court, and lately in a village, and well knew the squabbles, grudges, unexpected alliances and bitter feuds which governed such places. Bree was like to be no different from Hobbiton or the Court at Minas Tirith, and they would be lucky to reach morning without a few broken heads. He hoped none of it would end up as Frodo's problem.

The feast was better than the one that had welcomed them; Faramir ate sparingly as he always did, a source of surprise to most hobbits, though Frodo no longer remarked on it. Peregrin, seated in a place of honour, was suggesting foods that Denethor might like to try, "There is this green salad, though Faramir is forbidden it."

"And is my son always so obedient?" asked Denethor.

Faramir had winced at Peregrin's choice of words and did so again. It was one of those questions which Denethor delighted in and to which both 'no' and 'yes' were the wrong answer.

Peregrin glanced at Faramir, who tried very hard to look as if he were not listening. He said, "I have never known Faramir cross Frodo's will, though that is not the reason he does not eat this."

"What is?"

"It contains the herb sandrinard. It makes Faramir ill; not enough to die, though it might look as if he has, but very sick and dizzy."

"Does it affect all Men this way?" Denethor looked up the table to Aragorn, who was helping himself to a large portion.

"No," said Peregrin. "Nor all hobbits. I've a cousin, Dahlia Took, who's the same way with it. But I love it, and so does Frodo. Though it doesn't look as if he's going to get very much." This as Aragorn put the bowl down, mostly empty.

"Nevertheless, I will take none of it. What is this white fruit?"

"Vegetable, Lord Denethor. Potato."

Faramir turned back to Frodo, who said, "You see, your father is not all bad." He sounded almost as if he were apologising for it.

"No," said Faramir. Peregrin had one skill that he lacked and probably always would: that of being able to charm his father.

Suddenly, Faramir was tired and cold. He wanted to be alone with Frodo in their home at Bag End, and probably never would be again. He felt Frodo's hand take his and squeeze slightly, then let go. He looked up, somewhat comforted by the gesture to see his father's eyes upon them. He sighed; it was proving to be a long evening.

---

"You should go," said Frodo. "A day's hunting will cheer you."

"You won't come with us?"

Frodo laughed, "Have you ever known me to choose to hunt? No, you go with Boromir."

He had honestly expected to be far more unpractised than his brother, but then not all the meat at Bag End came from the butcher in Michel Delving.

"You were always a better shot than I," admitted Boromir, watching a coney make its escape. Faramir proved it by hitting his next target, and Boromir frowned at him looking disturbingly like their father. Faramir tried not to laugh, but felt his mouth twitch in any case. "It's not even as if you can eat a crow," said Boromir.

Faramir took aim again, "Butterbur tells me there are a great many crows in the woods around here. Too many, he says."

"He's a good man, that innkeeper. And a good friend to you."

"For Frodo's sake..."

Boromir turned to face him, "No, little brother. Not just for that. It was something of a surprise to our father, expecting to find you reviled and despised, to discover you a general favourite among the people here. But it was no surprise to me." Faramir was moved; he did not have the words to answer that, and therefore said nothing. Boromir changed the subject, "Did Frodo like the gift I left for him?"

"He..." Words defeated Faramir once again, but Boromir waited until he said, "I'm sure he's very grateful."

Boromir's laugh set the birds in the nearby trees to flight. "As I haven't heard you protesting, I suppose he hasn't used it."

"He imagines it has been given him to use when atop his pony."

"I shall have to tell him the truth of it, then!"

"Boromir! Do not, please."

"Are hobbits such prudes? I never found that."

"Among themselves they are earthy, I agree. But they do not expect it of Men." He paused, "It would amuse you to know that I am treated most of the time as a maiden, innocent and pure."

"You were pure. Before your handfasting to Frodo, at least. Don't look at me like that, you had read the scrolls the archivist kept hidden, that I know, but you had never...you need not have been so inexperienced, any of the servants of the White Tower would have shared your bed had you but asked."

"I know that. I chose not to."

"But why?"

"It seemed unfair," Faramir chose his words carefully, "to use them in that way. As if it were part of their duty."

From Boromir's expression he clearly thought it was exactly that, and Faramir tried to explain. "One morning, I saw a serving woman come out of father's room..."

"You would not surely expect our father to abstain entirely after our mother's death?"

"No. But it was how she looked."

"He had not hurt her?"

"No! Our father is not a brute. No...she looked as if she had performed some mildly unpleasant task, like emptying his chamber pot." Faramir stared out over the sunlit land. "I did not want any servant, or anyone, to stand outside my door like that."

"They would not have. Many looked at you with longing."

"Even the experience you had would have stood me in no stead given who I handfasted to."

"Frodo taught you?"

"Everything about pleasing a hobbit, yes. Who else?"

They walked on a little further through the bright morning, seeing nothing worth a shot.

"And you, my brother?" Faramir said. "How do you do in such matters?" For he had a feeling Boromir had not brought him out or raised this by chance.

"I am not worthy of her," said Boromir

"In what way?"

"In all ways. She is beautiful and brave beyond reckoning."

"I agree," said Faramir, as gently as he could, for his brother seemed to have fallen silent again.

"And I am not." Boromir walked on for a few more steps, then threw himself down to sit on a fallen log.

Boromir in this mood was entirely new. Himself, yes, he was only too aware that he fell short of the ideal in many ways, great and small, but that his brother should also believe that of himself was beyond Faramir's experience or comprehension. "I have ever heard it said that you are the best of men," said Faramir.

"They lie. Well, father does, for no doubt it is he who has told you so."

"In what way?"

Boromir looked up from the mossy floor of the forest. "I cannot believe Frodo has not mentioned this. He at least can have no great love for me."

"He has never said anything about you in my hearing that I recall. Oh. Except once in Minas Tirith before we were handfasted, I said that all loved you and he said 'not all'. Perhaps not those exact words, but something with that meaning."

"Dearest of brothers, has anyone ever mentioned that, though you do not talk often, when you do, if one were to write down what you say there would not be paper in the world?"

"Indeed so. Rose, the wife of Samwise, tells me that with me you get nothing at all or every thought that passes through my head."

"Then let it be nothing, at least until I tell you what I must. And then you will not wish to speak with me again."

Faramir sat down beside his brother, "I doubt that."

"Then for pity's sake, let me speak!"

Consumed with dread and curiosity, Faramir waited in silence; he saw Boromir's mouth work and wondered if he were about to weep. It would be unlike Boromir, but the day was becoming altogether strange.

"Have you ever noticed," said Boromir, "that there is a part missing from the tale of the Ring?"

"Truly, no."

"There is." Boromir paused again, as if collecting his thoughts. "Aragorn led us through the Golden Wood and we followed the River Anduin to the falls about Rauros.

"There we discussed what we should do, to go to Mordor or to Minas Tirith. Frodo asked for time alone to consider and left the group still debating. I followed him to the seat of Amon Hen above Sarn Gebir, and there spoke with him, trying to persuade him to bring the Ring back to Minas Tirith, to our father. He struck me, and called me a fool, told me that none could wield the ring save Sauron and that it would eat out my heart were I to try. Your husband may lack inches but he does not lack courage."

"I know," said Faramir.

"He put on the Ring and disappeared. I do not know where he went but I suppose he ran off down the hill. I tried to follow where I believed he had gone but saw an orc party.

"By this time at least an hour had passed since Frodo left the group and they had decided to search for him. The orcs found Merry and Pippin. I killed some, from behind, but when they came back searching for me," Boromir took a deep breath, "I fled.

"I learned later that Aragorn and the others believed me slain, and none of them, on his honour, has ever asked me what happened. Frodo has never mentioned it or asked for an explanation. I returned to Minas Tirith to face our father's wrath for not having brought him Isildur's Bane, and to learn that you were fighting in Ithilien."

"Have you told Denethor?"

Boromir nodded, once. "He ordered me to say nothing of it. Until now, I have obeyed."

Faramir was silent for a moment and the birds sang on around them. Then he said, "This is why father insisted to the King that you should be Prince of Ithilien and wed Éowyn."

"Yes. He arranged my handfasting - indeed gave little choice to either of us. But now he is angry that she has had a boy and seems like to bear another but his Lady Prestoliel has borne only a girl and a sickly one at that."

"I see."

"Not all, perhaps. Through this knowledge, he has influence over me that he does not have over you. And I am thus dishonoured twice over, once because I fled and once because he uses my dishonour to ensure my support for his schemes. The knowledge of what I have done unmans me. I am unworthy of Éowyn and the title I hold - she calls me spineless and she is correct."

Faramir had no reply to this for it was nothing more than the truth. The enormity of the burden Boromir carried was almost more than he could comprehend. "Éowyn does not know, then?"

"No!" Boromir's shudder was visible.

"Then you must tell her and trust to her heart."

"I cannot."

Faramir sighed. Boromir the stone wall he remembered of old. "You must. If I have learned nothing from my handfasting it is that you must trust. A secret like that will destroy you both."

"Do you have no secrets from Frodo at all?"

"Nothing serious." Faramir thought of them: that he was a closer friend to Rose than to Samwise; the time he made himself sick attempting to smoke pipe weed; that he sometimes put his hand on himself rather than ask Frodo to share his bed. He said, "Small things, that we might argue over if he were to discover them, but nothing which could do him real harm."

"You have given him your heart."

"I did not hope for it or expect it, but yes. I have." A sudden thought struck him and Faramir swallowed, "You know that I must tell him what you have said. This is too big a matter for me to keep secret."

Boromir searched his face for a moment then said, "Very well." Then, "What will he tell you to do?"

Frodo was unsurprised by Faramir's news; "I guessed something like that had probably happened. I would imagine that Aragorn has, too. What concerns me is what may happen when and if Aragorn finally secures his position in Minas Tirith. On that day, my husband, we are not providing a permanent bolt-hole for your father."

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