Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and all characters therein are the property of Tolkien Enterprises. The following is a work of fiction intended only for entertainment.

Book 2: In Which the Wanderer’s Trials are Revealed

Beregond nodded. “It is a tale long in the making. All was well for the first two years after you rode away to Far Harad on King Elessar’s bidding. News was good from all: the Haradrim fell back over the Poros before King Elessar and Éomer King while you parlayed with the chieftains of the south. We had messages from you often and were cheered by the success you had in building faith with those fierce men of the deserts. The princess was certain that you would be home soon.

“We were disappointed but not overly concerned when you stayed on at the bidding of the king. The chieftains would deal with no one else but you. But then slowly news from you became few and far between, and what we heard was troubling. Your messages became terse and impersonal and seemed but flimsy excuses to remain in Far Harad.

“Four years ago, all messages from you ended, even as we heard of the peace agreed upon between Gondor and Harad. We waited while the soldiers returned, while the Haradrim ambassadors came and went and men of Harad freely walked the streets of Minas Tirith. All these years as things grew tranquil between the two lands we heard nothing of you.

“Then the rumors began. At first they were whispers only but they quickly spread until they were spoken openly in the cities- wild tales that spoke of how your heart had turned to Harad as easily as you had learned to speak their tongues, of how you had found life there much to your liking, of how you had been won by the great honors and wealth and gifts, including many beautiful women, showered on you by the chieftains. There were other tales, too- grim ones that said you had indeed become one with the desert, your bones bleached white by the sun.

“The princess at first only laughed when she heard the stories, but as the years stretched on she grew silent and finally hard and cold. By then no one dared speak of you in the halls of your house.

“As the murmurs that you would not return grew stronger, men seeking the favor of the princess appeared at the gates of the house: strong men of Gondor, men of standing and property, who came to offer themselves to a lady who was thought to be as one widowed. And the princess opened the doors to them and welcomed them within. Although she has held Ithilien well it is said by many that she has the desire for a strong lord to aid her against the dregs of Mordor that yet cause trouble on the borders, and will petition the king for such. So now your halls are filled with those who would step into your place; every night now they come to dine and carouse and display themselves, not departing until the dawn. For four years they have waited for the princess to make her choice. Until now she has not done so, saying only that she has things to be finished first, but Elboron’s majority approaches and I fear she is being pressed for a decision.”

Faramir listened without comment as Beregond finished, merely turning a small stone over between his fingers, though his eyes had narrowed when he had heard about the suitors. At last he asked in a quiet voice, “And what does Elessar say of this?”

“The king has remained strangely silent,” Beregond replied. “All he has said is that he knows the princess to be a wise woman and will honor whatever choice she makes. So too does the queen hold her own counsel on this. Neither will permit discussion of the matter.”

“So does the king also believe me lost to the pleasures or the sands of Harad?” Faramir murmured. “Could he and the queen truly believe me dead? I would have thought that Arwen at least might have perceived my fate. I do not understand this.”

Beregond sighed. “Whatever they think, because the king will not speak people say his words for him. Some say the king walks in hope. Others say he prefers to think you dead or exiled rather than the betrayer you are and wishes to bury your memory.”

With a muttered curse Faramir flung the stone at a tree. Beregond watched in silent sympathy as the other man squatted upon his haunches, head bowed into his hands.

“How can this be?” he whispered, and Beregond looked away from the anguish in his lord’s face. “My life has belonged to Gondor since my birth— how would any think that I would stray?”

After a moment Faramir sighed and looked back up, his face composed once more. “So my labors are not yet ended. It cannot be helped. I have not fought to return for ten years in order to meekly yield to lies.” His mouth twisted. “Or to retreat before my wife’s anger, however justified she might be.”

“None of us wished to believe you would not return, my lord, and most wait still in Ithilien. So too do your uncle in Dol Amroth and cousin in Rohan. But many of those in Gondor and other surrounding lands who do not know you- they saw a reason why you did not return as the traders of Harad began to arrive bearing precious goods.”

“Rumor, always rumor. Will truth never endure?” Faramir groaned.

Beregond looked at the other man. “Will you not tell me at last what happened?”

“Ill-luck and treachery happened.” Faramir ran his hand over his eyes. “For many weary years I rode between the tribes bandying words with the chieftains, none of whom trusted each other much. The negotiations were delicate, Beregond, and I could not afford the distractions of pining for my home and family.

“I cannot deny that I did not object overmuch to staying longer, at first. They are a strange and marvelous people in a strange and marvelous land, Beregond. They do not work the land but move with their herds as their desires take them and perforce I went with them. Yet the longer I lived amongst them and the more they welcomed me into their lives, the more I was filled with longing for my own family.

“Since I was always moving I kept contact with only one man and I would meet with him at times to give him messages to carry back to Gondor. I thought I could trust him for he had served faithfully under Boromir and later with myself for many years. Damn Artholas!”

Beregond cast his master a surprised look. “Indeed, my lord, it was Artholas of Lossernach who came to tell us you had failed to meet him and he had been unable to find you. He has faithfully brought what scant news he did find of you to the princess and continues to serve her well.”

“He is here?” Faramir sprang to his feet.

Beregond started at the vehemence of the other man’s voice. “He visits Emyn Arnen often. The princess listens to much of his advice and it was he who rode with the White Company against those orcs that continued to attack Ithilien.”

“A good friend, would you say?” Faramir’s face was hard. “It was Artholas who continued to bid me stay yet another year in Far Harad, as he claimed by order of the king. And so I did, again and again, until my yearning for my home could not be borne any longer. The night I bid farewell to the chieftains and turned toward home I rode to where I was to join Artholas but was there attacked by ruffians and sorely wounded and left for dead. It was only chance that friendly strangers found me and aided me. It took me many days before I could rise, and I spent yet more days helping my benefactors rebuild their ruined home in gratitude for their kindness. Finally I was able to leave.

“But an easy way home was denied me. Men continued to pursue me; we fought, I slew them. They grew fewer in number over time but did not stop, so I was forced to a hard decision: I left Faramir of Gondor in the sands and became a lowly vagabond.

“I had lost contact with Artholas. But he was my sole tie to the west so I sought to reach him. Fortunately, I did not succeed.”

Faramir stared at Beregond, his grey eyes hard. “It was not until later that I discovered the truth: that it had been Artholas who had betrayed me to what he had hoped would be an anonymous death. I had the information from one of the gutter rats he had set upon me.

“I cannot guess what or when he began to manipulate what passed between myself and Gondor. I swear to you the messages I gave to him to send were neither cold nor impersonal nor infrequent.” Faramir rubbed his eyes and leaned against a tree. “At least I am quite sure that his betrayal involved me only and not Gondor- wherever I traveled I heard approval for the friendship between our countries and above all the peace has held all these years.

“For more years I evaded any pursuers- hiding, running, begging. I sold all that I could, and when I had no more I labored with my hands. I built roads and broke ruins for their stone. I tended sheep and goats and slaughtered them for another man’s table. I picked up coin where I could and made my way northwards, ever holding to the guise of a simple man of the tribes. Finally I made it to Poros and bought passage to Ithilien. The rest of the story you know.”

Beregond had listened in astonishment and growing anger. When Faramir had finished the former captain frowned and growled, “That betrayer- and yet he is accounted a goodly man, whom few hold him to blame for not defending your name when the rumors began. It has always angered me that he did not since he could have done much to suppress the rumors, but now I know why.”

“My life has always belonged to Gondor.” Faramir gave a short mirthless laugh. “And yet I would be false now? People’s memories seem to be short.”

“As I said Artholas has never denied or scorned any of the rumors and many wondered on the reason that so highly regarded a man would not defend you.” Beregond shook his head. “I cannot believe that such a man could turn on his friend and captain so.”

Faramir glanced at him, his grey eyes keen and steady. “It may not have been the gleam of a Ring, but nonetheless it was the desire for warm bright gold that drew him, was it not?”

Reluctantly Beregond nodded. “He is often in Emyn Arnen and clearly it is for the princess’ company. He was the first and is still the most persistent of her suitors.”

“And the most favored?” Faramir asked quietly.

“I will not believe it of her,” came Beregond’s simple response. “The princess does not play games. I have faith in her.”

“So too did I. It was what had kept me all these years.” He sighed deeply and stared at the ground. “You see loyalty so simply, Beregond. Once I did as well, but now I see nothing clearly. How could I have been so deceived in Artholas? I, who am accounted a man in whom the blood of Westernesse flows deeply?”

“You had trusted him for many years,” Beregond replied, “and his love for Boromir was very great. I would swear that his loyalty to Boromir, and to you, was true at the beginning.”

Faramir nodded, wearily dropping his head back to rest upon the trunk of the tree.

Beregond continued, “But perhaps, as the years passed and you could not return, he listened to an evil whisper in his heart and succumbed. He had served the princess well in your absence. Perhaps he looked upon your wife and your hall and began to covet them, telling himself that he deserved them after all his efforts.”

“How has he hidden himself even from Elessar and Arwen?”

“They too favored him and perhaps did not look deeply in his heart. But I have noticed that since he did his evil deeds he spends little time in Minas Tirith; when he is not in Emyn Arnen he is back on his father’s estates in Lossarnach, claiming to attend his sickly sire. In any case he is a brave and well-spoken man, my lord, one easy to believe.”

How did it happen that we all allowed this to pass? Faramir wondered. Perhaps we were too swift to accept that the evil of Sauron had passed. And you, Éowyn, what lies in your heart?

Faramir did not wish to believe ill of Éowyn. He was shamed at the darkness of his thoughts and desired above all to seek out her heart, but he was weary to the soul and his will was weak. Despite himself he thought of his golden wife and his false friend and wondered.

Willing himself to calm he looked at his friend. “And what of yourself? How came Beregond, loyal captain of the While Company, to this pass?”

“I was the last faithful hound turned out from the house,” Beregond replied quietly. “The princess did not disband the White Company; one by one she pensioned my men generously and replaced us until I alone remained at my post. Then she summoned me and gave me a modest yet fruitful holding. It was a very handsome gift, but I told her I wished to stay in her service. She said only that it could not be.”

“So there are ruffians now in charge of my house?” Faramir asked in resignation but his former captain’s response surprised him.

“You need not fear for the safety of your household. The Company is strong and loyal and its captain, Menelmir, is a good and honest man. It is only that they answer only to the princess, and most will be as strangers to you.”

“Indeed. As it seems may be said for my wife.” He was unable to keep the tinge of sorrow from his voice. “And what of Elboron? And my daughters?”

“Elboron is fostered with the Lord Legolas in northern Ithilien, while Gwenél and Morwen are in the keeping of Queen Arwen, for the past three years.”

Faramir drew a sharp breath. “So I am to be parted from them for some time more. Why did Éowyn send them away?”

Beregond shrugged. “The princess does not confide in anyone, but I believe Elboron was sent to Prince Legolas so that he might be well protected but still be raised in Ithilien. The little princesses were safest in Minas Tirith. They were nearly of an age when they would have been vulnerable to unscrupulous men.”

“It would seem that my wise lady has cleared the way to her satisfaction,” Faramir murmured. “So this is what I face.” He settled back against the bole of the tree and bowed his head, frowning a little.

They sat in silence, Beregond gazing watchfully about him as Faramir remained deep in thought. Suddenly the prince looked up at the other. “Beregond, are you allowed to return to my hall? Or are you forbidden entry?”

“The princess has encouraged me to stay at my holding but she will not forbid me outright to return.”

“Good,” Faramir replied with a satisfied nod. “I will need your aid for I will not be able to move freely and indeed wish to avoid most of the people save Éowyn and Elboron, once we reach him.”

Beregond looked down at his hands. “That is another matter you must know. By orders of the princess I am not to escort Elboron or even serve him in any way.”

Faramir felt a fresh shock at the unexpected callousness of his wife. Who is this stranger to whom I am returning? “I am sorry,” he said softly, aware of the hurt such an order had caused his faithful guard. “But if he was with the elves he would not have needed you much. Now that I have returned it is fortunate that my captain is here to aid me.” He nodded as Beregond gave a small bow. “As I have said I did not endure what I did to slink tamely away. I will not leave a soiled reputation to be the inheritance of my children. I must return to Éowyn, and from there seek audience with the king. Whatever my fate, I am Steward and must fulfill my duty.”

“Then softly it must be. Artholas is a powerful man who may seek to stop you if he knew you were here. Ah, that you are forced to sneak into your own home, when celebrations should be held instead!” Beregond shook his head.

Faramir shrugged. “I am not a man for such in any case.”

Beregond looked at his prince. “Do not think too harshly of the princess. I do not know the reason for her decisions but she has ruled Ithilien well in your stead. I bear her no grudges. And do not fear for Elboron- I may not be allowed to serve him but by her desire Bergil always accompanies him.”

Faramir sighed and gave a faint smile. “If your young rascal has grown to be like his father I shall have no worries. But come! There is much planning to be done before I am ready to return home.”

They built up the fire and continued to speak long into the night; they shared some few fond memories but mostly they considered the details for the unobtrusive entry of the Prince of Ithilien to his home.