flick, the Boromir addict, wanted to see someone remembering Boromir.
A Ranger knows when he's watched; at the rail, Faramir turns from contemplating Anduin. From the garden gate, the Ranger-king nods acknowledgment ere joining him, but 'tis not the river he watches.
"'Aragorn'. You seem pensive."
"I am." And to the expectant silence: "I'd always thought 't'would be Boromir and I on the field... to the last," he says.
Aragorn sighs. They speak no more 'til duty calls the king away.
But just ere bed, a box comes for the Steward. Within he finds the vambrances, and so nearly misses the note:
To the last, son of Gondor. —A.