Part Two: Faramir and Pippin

"Is this the one you wanted, Faramir?" The young knight burst into the room with a wooden casket cradled against his chest.

Smiling, Faramir nodded. "My thanks, Pippin. That is indeed the one I sought." He watched as his friend carefully placed the box on a nearby table and just as carefully tried hard not to stare at it. After a moment or two of watching this, the Prince of Ithilien burst into laughter. "Peregrin Took, just bring it over here and I shall show you its contents."

Smiling sheepishly, Pippin did as he was told. Faramir opened the box to reveal a silver necklace nestled into soft blue silk. "Oh, Faramir! Is that for Eowyn?"

"It was my mother’s from father when I was born, and I very much want to give it to Eowyn this evening as my pledge." Faramir answered him, staring wistfully at the graceful curve of the silver swans that surrounded a beautiful cabachon emerald.

"I know she will love it, then. All the more for that it has such a story about it." Pippin’s voice was hushed as he reached out to touch it briefly.

"’Tis my hope as well." Faramir sighed, and then cocked his head to the side, looking at Pippin. "And I am glad you could find it — I knew I’d packed it for the journey, but I couldn’t find it."

"You’ve had certain other things on your mind, then?" Pippin asked him with a twinkle in his green eyes.

Grinning back, Faramir nodded. "Now that you mention it, yes." He closed the little casket and laid it back on the table. "Will you help me get ready? I fear that I shall be just as distracted now as I was when I was packing back in Minas Tirith. Unless Aragorn needs you to squire him today?"

"Ah, he’s gotten Legolas to help him, I think." Pippin replied, moving quickly to help. "Merry is with Eomer, who seems to be as nervous as his sister."

As Faramir pulled the formal tunic over his head, he emerged from folds of embroidered wool to find his friend standing very still. Unusual for the young hobbit, enough so that such inactivity sparked a certain amount of worry. "Pippin, are you well?"

Green eyes holding fathomless amounts of uncertainty stared back at him, startled. "Oh, I’m sorry…let me…"

"Peregrin Took." Faramir knelt in front of Pippin and reached out to frame his face with one hand that suddenly seemed quite large. "It can wait. We have quite some time before our presence is required in the Hall of Meduseld, and I would have you share the joy of this night. What is wrong?"

"You and Eowyn are so well suited for one another, and you looked so sad when we first met, and now your eyes don’t hold so much of that anymore, and you both look so happy now, like you’ve found your place in the world…" Pippin’s ramble trailed off and he looked down at his bare feet. The normally self-assured knight of the realm was looking distinctly uncertain just then.

"I should not like to see that sadness come to rest in your eyes, Pippin. What troubles you so?" Faramir slid his hand down to rest on his friend’s shoulder, remembering all the times his older brother stood just so and asked him just that question.

With a strangled sound, Pippin whirled to throw his arms as far around Faramir as he could reach, and mumbled something into the crook of the man’s arm.

"Hmmm? Pippin, here…" Faramir eased back and pulled the hobbit over to the window seat to sit beside him.

Pippin clambered up to pull his knees up to his chin, wrapping his arms around his legs. "I’m sorry. This is supposed to be a good day and now I’ve gone and spoilt it." His murmured voice sounded terribly apologetic.

"Now, Pippin," Faramir interjected, putting an arm around him and tucking him close to his side. "You’ve spoilt nothing, and I would hardly be a friend if I let you remain thus without remedy. I do consider you a friend, you know."

Green eyes met his solemnly. "And I you, and not just for your brother’s sake. I just wondered…when we go back home…I shan’t be the same as when I left. I’ve seen things outside the Shire that none inside it can fathom, you see. You and Eowyn, you love each other so very much. You…you complete one another. And I…how will I find someone there who could understand? I’ve changed. What if none of the lasses wish to be with a hobbit who has so many…so many scars, or so much of Gondor in him now? Or one taller than most other hobbits? What if I’ve changed so much that…" Pippin’s right hand rubbed absently at the rope scars on his left wrist.

Faramir reached out a hand to tip up Pippin’s chin. "That what?"

With a sniffle, Pippin tilted his head sideways to rest in the man’s hand, and the gesture of trust did much to ease Faramir’s heart and worry. "What if I’ve changed so much that there isn’t a hobbit lass who’ll have me? Who’ll understand or want someone like me?

Smiling fondly, Faramir ruffled his friend’s hair before pulling his hand away. "Pippin, if it hasn’t escaped your notice, some of us came to know you after those scars were made, and neither we nor those who already loved you changed our minds. What we have survived has changed us, but believe, me — you’ll find someone. You are still yourself, in the Shire or in Gondor." He paused and looked serious again for a moment. "What does Merry say to this? Have you asked him?"

"He said much the same, actually. That I was still myself, just older and perhaps a bit wiser." Pippin dropped his voice’s pitch to mimic his cousin deftly for a moment, and then let it go back to normal. "That he was proud of me. But it was he who said it, and so…"

"And so knowing that he loves you so, you felt his view might be a little biased?" Faramir shook his head. "I felt much the same with Boromir, and yet I always believed him, just the same, after our father’s harsh words. He’d sit with me and talk with me, and I’d know I was loved."

"That’s how he made me feel, after we thought Gandalf had died." Pippin admitted with a shy smile. "That it wasn’t my fault, and that he’d keep telling me that until I believed it." He heaved a great sigh. "I suppose that he’d be scolding me just now, and Merry too, if he wasn’t off helping his King."

"Probably," Faramir agreed, and gave him a quick hug.  "Pippin, somewhere in the Shire is a hobbit-lass who is the right one for you.   I went through such a long time of feeling worthless and then Eowyn found me, after all."  He tried in vain to hide the silly grin on his face.  "And she is quick to remind me that I have worth when I feel that way sometimes still. Now, are you feeling any better about things?"

"Yes, thank you. And I’m sure that he’s proud of you, you know. They are…both Boromir and your father." Pippin said, returning the embrace and then hopping down from their seat. Faramir watched him, amused at the lightning-quick return to good humour.

"Can you deliver this gift to my lady quickly, then, and come to fetch me when it is time? Without detours to the kitchen to sample things?" Faramir dodged the hand that swatted at him with the skill of much practice, laughing.

"My lord, I am a Knight of Gondor. I can carry out my duties without delay!" Pippin’s indignant expression was marred by the smile hovering around his mouth. He snatched the wooden box from the table and went off to find Eowyn.

Faramir stayed sitting on the little bench for some time, just staring out the window. "Thank you for protecting him, brother, so he could be such a friend to me." he whispered into the evening breeze. "I am happy, for the first time in a very long time. I hope you feel the same where you are."

As a cool drift of air curled through the open window, stirring the hair at his brow, he could imagine it was Boromir’s hand ruffling his hair as he had done when they were younger. And when he heard Pippin’s voice calling him from down the hall, that image of his brother’s bright smile melted into visions of a different beloved pair of bright eyes, and golden hair to frame them. Getting to his feet, Faramir took a deep breath and went to meet his bride.