Disclaimer: I own no characters or places in this fiction. The minor original characters who I do own will be stated at the beginning of each chapter. Aragorn, Faramir, Minas Tirith, Ithilien, and the like are the property of Tolkein Estates and New Line Cinemas.

Author's note: When I see the characters, I see them as portrayed in the movie, except that Boromir and Faramir's hair is darker and they have grey eyes as in the books.

Summary: Aragorn and Faramir, missing their old lives as rangers, decide to spend a week in Ithilien. A chance meeting with bandits has dastardly consequences.

WARNINGS: Will include a LOT of angst. Torture of Faramir and Aragorn, descriptions of wounds and violence, and general alarm. However, there will be, as always with my stories, no slash or sex. This chapter is quite safe, actually would be rated K.

Chapter One-Restlessness

Aragorn, king of the reunited Kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor, straightened his tunic and glanced in the mirror. He took a deep breath. It seemed as if his finery was right. However, having spent most of his life as a ranger with little care for his appearance, he was not used to formalities. With a sigh, he left his chambers. As he shut the door behind him, a hand covered his eyes, and he took in breath sharply.

His wife's musical laughter made him relax. "Always," Arwen said, "You may have been the greatest ranger in Eriador, but you could always be outsmarted by a certain elven maiden."

Aragorn turned to face, her the tense expression on his face disappearing. "Ah, Arwen," he said, planting a kiss firmly on her lips, "Indeed I could. And yet can. But I'm glad of it, for you lighten my heart."

"Council meeting?" Arwen asked, the smile fading from her face. She knew how her husband despised these official events. Of course, she couldn't blame him for it, she herself struggling to get used to being Gondor's queen.

Aragorn nodded grimly. "Yes, melamin, I am afraid so," he said, "But I shall just have to endure it."

Arwen smiled again, playfully, "Indeed you shall. Though I am surprised you did not have a more clear idea of what being Isildur's heir would impose upon you," he ran her fingers through his hair tenderly. "And I do not think your steward was ever expecting to hold that office, so he never prepared himself."

"Faramir?" Aragorn gave her a puzzled look. "What has he to do with this?"

Arwen laughed again, "Have you not seen him?" she asked, "The way he sits, stands, walks, and even speaks all the time now?" Aragorn's look was blank. Arwen entwined her fingers in his. "He's nervous. So formal. It's not really Faramir. I do not know him well enough to say what, but there's something else beyond the shell of the Stewardship. Now, you must go, or you will be late," he pushed him gently down the hall.

Aragorn walked to the council room, thinking about what his wife had said about Faramir. Come to mention it, he had noticed his Steward to be very stiff and formal. But he had merely attributed that to Faramir's adjusting to his new role. He made a point that he would watch him carefully at this council meeting.

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"What should I do about it?" asked Imrahil of Dol Amroth in despair. Faramir's uncle had just finished an account of the rebellion that had broken out in his lands. The bands of rebels were marauding the villages of Dol Amroth and burning fields, and then looting the villages' remains.

The King, who, Faramir thought, looked quite uneasy- as he had every right to, for he had only been King for a matter of months, and it was surely a great burden for him- as he answered. "You have a garrison in Dol Amroth?"

Imrahil nodded, "Yes, I suppose I may send them out to erradicate the rebels," he said, "We cannot have this going on any longer." Faramir thought his uncle looked strained and exhausted.

He stood tentatively, looking around at the council. "If I may speak..." he began shyly. Aragorn nodded for him to continue. Now that he had been given permission, though, Faramir wondered if his idea was a good one. But there was no going back. "It seems that it may be effective if Lord Imrahil attempts to speak to the rebels," he said, "To discover what ails them, and why they would turn against Gondor."

One of the other noblemen, a portly man, stood up. "A suggestion that none other than Lord Faramir would think up," he retorted, "They burn our villages and kill our subjects and what do we do? Speak to them?" The man gestured around, "I should have thought that my lord the Steward's years of war would have taught him that enemies must be erradicated."

Faramir felt color rise in his cheeks when he was rebuked, and he lowered his head submissively. "I'm sorry, my lord," he said, "Forgive me." The phrase, his first formal lines to learn, had been drilled into him. His father had told him that if he ever said anything that disagreed with what one of higher status than he-virtually, in Denethor's mind, everyone in Gondor- to say that phrase. Usually, he said it to his father, and even when he was twenty, it was almost always followed by a sound beating with a switch or sometimes even a horsewhip.

It was then he realized that these men were no longer of higher status than he. He began to turn beet red as he looked up and saw that many of the lords wore expressions of amusement on their faces. It was only the quick thinking of the King that saved him even more embarassment. "Actually, I think Lord Faramir's suggestion is worth talking about," he said, and Faramir dared to meet his eyes after his blunder. They gave him a thoughtful look, but it seemed to Faramir almost like scrutiny, but not cold and heartless like his father's had been. However, he did not want to chance anything, so he looked downward again.

"Lord Imrahil, if you could perhaps manage to speak to the leader of the rebels, you could find out why they rebel, and eliminate the reason," Aragorn continued, turning to Imrahil.

The Prince of Dol Amroth was grim. "Perhaps," he mused, "But I think that he will not speak to me."

"If he refuses to speak with you, or if his reasons are traitorous, then you surely must use your garrison," Aragorn tilted his head slightly, "But until then, I would highly discourage any rash acts. There has been too much death in Gondor for the past years."

Some of the members of the council were nodding their heads in sad agreement. There were very few Gondorians who had not lost someone dear to them in the Ring War. But the lord who had spoken up against Faramir first merely snorted. "And there will be more, it seems, unless these rebels are disposed of."

Faramir did not like the way that he talked about men, especially fellow Gondorians, as if they were no more than scraps to go on the rubbish heap. "But if they are convinced to return to the Kingdom, we gain loyal subjects instead of lose them. And," he added this, not that he much cared, but because he was quite sure this noble would think more favorably, "there is always the matter of their tax money coming into our coffers."

Aragorn was surprised at this coming from the usual reserved and unselfish Faramir, and he could tell from the younger man's demeanor that it mattered little to the Steward. But why had he said it? The clinking gold bracelets on the noble's wrists answered the question. Faramir rose even higher in Aragorn's esteem as he was quite sure the Steward had noticed the other man's love of finery as well.

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Later that afternoon, Aragorn slipped outside for a walk in the gardens with Arwen. They walked close by each other, and he was filled once again with the sense of peace that always came from being in her company. For so many years he had thought that a day like today was only a dream, one that could never come true. But now it had. He relished in the feeling of Arwen's shoulder against his.

A sigh from nearby caused them to turn, as they heard Eowyn speaking."You do miss your ranger days, don't you?" she said softly.

Faramir, who stood next to her, looking out over the fields in the sunset, smiled sadly. "Yes, I must admit," he said, "Though I was under my father's shadow then, in Ithilien, it was the one place I felt like my own man. And there was so much freedom there."

Eowyn nodded sympathetically. "I understand. I miss riding freely across the plains of Rohan."

"I suppose we are both homesick," Faramir mused. A slight sound caused them both to turn simultaneously as the King and Queen rounded the corner.

"Good evening, Faramir," Aragorn said informally. He seemed in high spirits.

"Good evening, my lord," Faramir returned the greeting, slightly more formally, though wondering if he should relax. Being under Lord Denethor all his life hadn't boded well for relaxation around his betters, though, and he remained formal, though less uneasy than he had been at the council meeting.

"I suppose you and your lady are walking this evening?" he asked, taking Eowyn's hand in his own and kissing it lightly.

Eowyn's eyes sparkled with amusement."Indeed, my lord," she said, "We were merely talking about how my husband has missed his days as a ranger." She caught Arwen's eye meaningfully, and the Queen gave her an almost imperceptible look. "And here you are, who have been a ranger for over twice as long. I'm sure you miss it as well. Go along now," she pushed Faramir lightly towards Aragorn, and the two former rangers walked off together.

"And it is sealed," Arwen laughed.

"Yes, if my poor husband will only overcome his awe of the King enough to talk freely. You planted the seeds in his mind, I hope?" Eowyn asked her.

Arwen nodded.

"Then it is as much as we can do. But the trip would be good for them," she said, watching them disappear around a corner.

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"So you do miss your days of being in Ithilien,"Aragorn mused.

Faramir nodded. "Yes, my lord," he said, "It was so much less... less formal, and false. I could be myself, and as could my rangers. We were under little pressure, except to defend Ithilien. Whereas, as Steward, I must pretend to know what I am doing, when I really know nothing." He was still a bit stiff.

"Loosen up a little, Faramir," Aragorn said, putting a hand on the younger man's shoulder, "I don't bite." He chuckled, and was rewarded by a smile from his Steward, who rarely did.

"I know, my lord," Faramir replied, "But I spent my whole life in fear of my father. Under his rule, if you were relaxed in his prescence, you would be accused of disrespect. At first I thought you would be this way as well, and even now when I know you are not, I instinctively become formal."

Aragorn again was wondering about Faramir's harsh childhood. He'd known Denethor, many years ago, when he was young and happy, and he had been harsh then. He wondered how much worse it must have been for young Faramir when Denethor's own life began to fall apart. "Well, that makes the both of us misfits, I suppose, then," he said.

Faramir turned to the King questioningly. "I do not know what you mean, my lord," he said.

"I was raised in Rivendell, and I often felt quite out of place, for I was the only mortal among the elves," he explained.

Faramir nodded, "I was always in my brother's shadow, even after his death. But I held nothing against Boromir. I wish that he would have been here. Perhaps he would have made a better steward. I belong where there is quiet and I do not have to deal with state affairs."

Aragorn put a hand on the Steward's shoulder. "You do a fine job as steward," he said, "The best I could have. There are enough coldhearted nobles in the council, we need someone like you, who cares deeply about the people of Gondor."

Faramir was reassured. "Thank you, sire," he said, bowing briefly.

"I already told you there is no need for formality. We should be friends, not merely King and Steward," Aragorn replied.

"I'm sorry, my lord," Faramir replied, blushing, "But we've not been in each other's company much apart from formal occasions, so I don't think I'm quite sure how to be friends with you."

Aragorn grinned, "For starters, there's no need for you to say, 'my lord.' Simply call me Aragorn. Then, loosen up a bit. Talk about things that do not have to do with politics." He gave the Steward a pat on the back.

Faramir smiled again. "Thank you my l-" he checked himself, "Thank you, Aragorn."

Aragorn nodded, "You are very welcome," he said. "Now, about the way you miss being a ranger, I feel the same way. I am tired of the formality and show of the Court."

Faramir nodded affirmatively, "Those words are as true for me as for you," he replied exasperatedly.

"Well, Arwen suggested that I go to Ithilien," Aragorn continued, "For a week or so. The land is not yet brought fully back to its former glory, is it? There are still, for example, wild things in the woods, and a few orcs, perhaps? And not to mention highwaymen and other criminals."

Faramir met Aragorn's eyes, which twinkled. "Yes, indeed there are," he replied, feeling as if he could read Aragorn's mind.

"Good," the King replied, "Then we'll go a week from today and stay there for a week, doing what we both do best." He smiled.

Faramir's spirits lifted considerably. "That'll be good," he replied, grinning, "I look forward to it."

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I hope you enjoyed it!

I have several headcanons about Faramir and Aragorn. First, I assume that Faramir, who, being the avid reader he is, would have read legends about Aragorn. That, and his earlier years, would probably make him quite humble and overly respectful around Aragorn.

The fact that Faramir and Aragorn miss their years as rangers is also a headcanon of mine, as well as the thought that they would be close companions after the war of the Ring. Faramir was probably unused to public honor, and it would make his new role as steward quite difficult.

Arwen and Eowyn would also probably become close friends.

The events in this story take place about six months after Aragorn becomes King.

Namaarie, mellyn-nin,

Luthien