His beloved King was, and always would be, a great and revered man. This Faramir knew, as he walked with his wife to welcome him in Ithilien.
It did not seem so long ago that Aragorn, Son of Arathorn, had been seated in Minas Tirith - the place and throne so loved by Faramir's own father. But the Steward of Gondor was dead - no! Not dead, for the title was now his, and Faramir still thought it difficult to think of it without thinking of his father, for the two had been so intertwined his whole life. He wondered if Denethor loathed that his lesser son had gained it not only through his death, but also through the blessing of Gondor's triumphant king. He wondered if Denethor was proud of him now that he was not only a Steward, but a Prince of Gondor.
He wondered if Denethor--
Éowyn laid a hand on his arm, and Faramir smiled, awakened from his dark thoughts, before stepping forward and bowing low at the waist. "My lord," he said to Aragorn, "I bid thee welcome."
aragorn
It did not seem so long ago that Aragorn, Son of Arathorn, had been seated in Minas Tirith - the place and throne so loved by Faramir's own father. But the Steward of Gondor was dead - no! Not dead, for the title was now his, and Faramir still thought it difficult to think of it without thinking of his father, for the two had been so intertwined his whole life. He wondered if Denethor loathed that his lesser son had gained it not only through his death, but also through the blessing of Gondor's triumphant king. He wondered if Denethor was proud of him now that he was not only a Steward, but a Prince of Gondor.
He wondered if Denethor--
Éowyn laid a hand on his arm, and Faramir smiled, awakened from his dark thoughts, before stepping forward and bowing low at the waist. "My lord," he said to Aragorn, "I bid thee welcome."