A/N: Hmm…I guess I just have been reading too much Faramir fics lately that it had rubbed off on me. Hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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Seeing

I see him now.

I see him as the young man he once was, trying desperately to win his father’s love and he still is. Even now, he is whispering into the darkness wondering why that love came so hard and at such a high price. For all that it happened decades ago, he still remembers that night as he rode out to death with naught waiting for him but a father’s scorn. He knows of his father’s deeds, for he still dreams of the flames, and yet, he does not begrudge him for it. A lesser son would have hated his father. A lesser son would have cursed his father for the nightmares that still plagues him. But he was not a lesser son.

I see him now.

I see him as the boy he must have been, clinging to his brother’s side after the death of their mother. He was young, too young and could not understand why she had to leave. His father was slowly giving in to the grief and rarely took any interest in his youngest. It was only his brother that had kept that poor boy from getting lost. It was his brother that had held him at night after every nightmare. It was his brother that had defended him against his father’s endless barrage. And it had been his brother that he had dreamt of, that dreadful night when the boat had floated past him, granting him one last glimpse of the brother that he had so dearly cherished.

I see him now.

I see him as the Captain that he had become, loyal and dedicated to his King. The soldiers whom he had fought side by side with speak of him with admiration and respect, respect that he had proven worthy of time and time again. The people of Gondor love him for he was Gondor’s finest. Every morn would see him stroll around the city, meeting its people, his people, to whom he had sworn service to. He knew their names, their families. He knew of every birth in the city and congratulated the happy parents, sharing their joy. He knew of the deaths and mourned for the lost lives. Such service, given not out of duty but of love, was all that he had ever known for it was his land; his people and he had paid for it in blood.

I see him now.

I see him as the other half of her heart that she had never known was missing till the day he had finally confessed his love to her. Both so similar and yet so different. He; gentle and witty, with hair as dark as his demeanor. She, wild and more likely to use force over reason; with a heart that had grown cold and unused to affection. When asked how he had managed to tame the Shieldmaiden of Rohan when many before him had failed, he would say that he didn’t; for why would he want to cage a beautiful bird? He had simply showered her with love and showed her that it was indeed a feeling like no other. And like a wild bird that had grown accustomed to a stranger’s presence, she had come to him.

I see him now.

I see him as the hesitant first-time father, scared that he would make the same mistakes that his father did. The countless nights that had fallen prey to his doubts and fears while his pregnant wife slept on. They would come to him, masquerading as his father, repeating the harsh words, reopening old wounds that had never healed, intent on driving him to his deathbed. He would later laugh, laugh at his stupidity, laugh at how unfounded his fears were, for one look at his new born son and he was hooked. How could he not love and cherish this child whom relied on him? How could he not be proud and amazed by his son, who was created out of his very own flesh and blood, and whom constantly surprises him?

I see him now.

I see him as how only a child about to lose father can. I thought he was even better than the King then and would marvel at how I could see the world from his shoulders. I would say that he was my favouritest daddy and he would say that I was his favourites son. How I would sneak into his room and snuggle in when there was storm. He would never moan or complain when I woke him up but simply shifted over to make space for me. Only then would I sleep peacefully, cocooned by my father’s protective bulk and my mother’s soothing warmth. Wrapped up in my own little world, I never wanted to grow older, but I did. I had too. Only years later would I regret every argument we had. I would regret all those times I told him I hated him. I would regret ever causing this great noble man to cry because of my words. Only when I became a father too did I regret every tear I caused him for only then did I realize that each tear was one too many.

I see him now.

I see him lying on the bed, his face pale and his hands clammy. Though he has lain there for many days, unable to move his body much as his strength wanes, he still retains and air of dignity. My father would have a dignified death, surrounded by the people who loves him best, not the premature death that had almost befallen him in his youth. He would not scream out in agony, as one who is experiencing excruciating pain. He would not go into hysterics, as many a dying soldier is wont to do. He would not beg Illuvatar for a release from this suffering, as he has seen many who have lain on the battlefields have done. My father has seen too many deaths, tried to ease the passing of too many fallen comrades that he knows his own passage will not be an easy one.

But he does not complain for he knows that he already been blessed by a full life, a life that he had not thought was possible. And he is not afraid for he knows that though those whom he would leave behind would grieve, there are loved ones waiting for him on the shores. He is eager to be reunited once again with his brother, he yearns to see his mother and father again. His arms ache with longing to hold his beloved again and though I do not want him to go just yet, I cannot begrudge him his happiness.

I see him now.

I see him struggling for his last breaths and I wish that I do not have to.