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Letters From Faramir (G) Print

Written by Alcardilmë

28 April 2010 | 16713 words

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Letter Twelve – An End and a Beginning


Forgive how this is written, my beloved Brother, for time and emotions have all become jumbled in my mind during this past week. I have tried to write everything of import.

Aragorn is now Elessar, King. It feels fitting and right that Gondor, after all her long years of suffering, should finally have her king in place – sitting on the throne. I had not realized until now how empty the Great Hall had been. I have watched him for many days and my heart is filled with joy and peace. He is putting our City back to rights, and bringing a sense of stability and hope to our people. Gimli has promised to bring craftsmen from the halls of the Dwarves to help repair the stonework and Legolas has offered the services of the Elves in rebuilding our City. I have even seen Sam puttering around the gardens near the Houses of Healing and in front of the White Tower. He stays away from the White Tree itself. I believe his heart aches to see it dead. As does mine.

In a few days time, Éomer and Éowyn will leave for Rohan. Before they go, I have planned a small ceremony, with the King’s consent. It will be held in the Steward’s chamber, though Elessar had offered the Great Hall. I cannot, in peace, do this in that Hall. It is now and finally, the King’s Hall and what I have planned does not seem to fit that place. I have only invited a few of our friends: Elessar, Mithrandir, Frodo and Sam, Legolas and Gimli, Éomer and Éowyn, Imrahil, Merry and last, but with the deepest fondness, our Pippin. I have taken Sam aside, that most faithful friend and ally, and have explained to him what I want to do, what I have in mind. For it is Sam who has suffered most terribly and who has shown the greatest quality. I cannot, I will not let him go into this unawares. So we spent the greater part of a night speaking of you, the journey and the Ring – you know, he held it for a short time himself – became the Ringbearer and was able to give It up. To give It back to Frodo – to be a gardener of the Shire again. That, to me, is a great thing. He is so unassuming and yet so clear-minded.

Because of that, and with his permission, I am now able to do what I planned. You see, Boromir, I also needed his approval. I would not have him uneasy or fearful over what we are about to do tonight.

The ceremony is over and I will again share with you, though my heart breaks.

The servants lit the fire and the torches around the room. The wine had been put in flagons and set on the tables. New pipes and pipeweed had been laid out on the side table. The chairs had been pulled into a tight circle as our friends began to arrive.

First, Elessar, King – though he had every right to be last to enter. Yet he deemed this important enough to place his full weight behind it. Tears sprang to my eyes at his presence, at his whole-hearted support of this. Following him was Mithrandir with his staff clicking on the stone of the floor and a smile upon his face, his pipe in his hand. Imrahil, our dearest uncle, entered next and his embrace was strong and warm. I was reminded of my rescue at his hands- I could hardly breath as I thanked him again. Never has he turned against us, dear Brother, never has he said a harsh word against our father or you. My gratitude is overwhelming. He ruled the City for a time, the Lord of Dol Amroth, until I had recovered from my wounds. A lesser man would have, perhaps, begrudged me the Stewardship, but not Imrahil. I remember how he stood by Aragorn’s side as my King tended my wounds. Nor can I not forget that it was he who saved Éowyn’s life, as she lay, mistaken for dead by the soldiers of Rohan. He recognized that life was still in her and had them rush her to the Houses of Healing. I cannot forget that, nor thank him enough.

Legolas and Gimli never seem to be apart and they come in next, together. It would make you laugh to see them inspecting the White City and making plans for its restoration. They are a sight. I do not believe our people understand at all what a treasure these two are and will be for Gondor. Éomer and Éowyn, dear friends and dear comrades-in-arms – yet my heart turns towards that fair lady and I feel my checks flush again, even as I write this missive. There is something about that woman – besides her courage in battle. There is a beauty of soul… I would spend more time with her, but she leaves soon. She, more than any other, has helped heal my heart. Éomer – I have not met him before, except in the stories you have told me of your times together, but his love for you, his respect, shine out at the mention of your name and he was the most enthusiastic when approached with my thoughts for tonight’s ceremony. Mithrandir told me of your defense of Rohan at Elrond’s council and I have shared that with Éomer. Further up in his esteem you could not go, but this brought tears to his eyes.

The four Halflings burst through the door – and it did not fit them all. I can only laugh again at the warmth and cheer they bring with them. It is so good to see Frodo and Sam healing so quickly. Merry grinned at me as he flopped in a chair, but Pippin, dearest Pippin, ran to me and hugged me. I cannot speak; his love is so true and pure and so needed. Where now would I be if he had not helped me through, writing these letters for me when I myself was unable, helping me to heal from this terrible loss, weeping with me? He was precious to you; he is precious to me.

Now that we were all gathered, now that peace has come to our land, I proceeded. I stood and lifted my cup – the others joined me.

“To Denethor II,” I began, “last Ruling Steward of Gondor. Hope for Gondor during all his long years of service, ever faithful and true to the Tower of Guard, even to the very end. I do not believe it was my beloved father in that place, ordering our final doom. I believe, rather, that his mind was already destroyed, that some creature stood in his place. For my father was wise, far-sighted, learned in lore, and masterful. I will not here speak of his failings. They are all too clear to us joined here tonight, perhaps more so now, as we see the return of Thorongil, the Brave, to his City. But I speak now as son of a beloved Father, as one who learned too late the full extent of his father’s love, as son of Finduilas, beloved wife of that same father, mourned beyond words, and as Captain of Ithilien, devoted soldier to his lord. May he find peace.” I drank the cup empty; the others did the same.

We then sat in silence. The servants refilled our cups and Elessar stood, lifted his cup and we rose. “Long have I known this man whom we have come to honor and farewell. When last I saw him alive, it was in a distant age past. My only love was for Gondor and her people. He did not understand and mistook my heart. Mayhap if I had left earlier, he would have taken Mithrandir as his counselor and much that was turned to evil might have been saved. I had hoped that my coming at this time and in this manner, bringing hope to our City in its darkest hour, would have healed the wounds in his heart. Alas, it seems my coming made them worse. I would have brought healing – he chose death. But his heart was good and noble and I would have had his end more glorious. So I take up this cup, in memory of his blood, his sacrifice, his love for Gondor, and I lift it in his praise – trusting that perhaps, at the last moment, he was saved. To Denethor.”

Brother, Aragorn has taken my heart. He is now my liege-lord. I am overwhelmed at his kindness. To hear him raise our father’s memory up, knowing that Father treated him ill so long ago, and yet to put that aside and praise his memory in front of those assembled, my heart was so full. I believe Gondor now will flourish. There is no other King in any of the writings in the Great Library that I have read that can outshine this man.

Imrahil stood next. Of all those present, he knew our father best. “I speak as brother-in-law, as uncle, as subject, and as comrade-in-arms. This man was not an easy man. This man was not without flaw, but this man loved his country and his people. He fought many a battle to protect her. He gave of his wife and his sons. He gave of himself to the point that he became weak and tired and lost his greatest battle against the Enemy. Because of his love for my sister, his love for his sons, and his love for Gondor, I raise my cup and praise his name and also wish him peace.”

Before any of the others could stand, I rose. “Your kindness and fealty to my father touches my heart. I could not, in good conscience, have this night begin in any other way. But now we come to the most important part. I lift my cup to my brother. To Boromir the Brave.” The others stood. “We were inseparable. I would that I had gone with him… not instead of him… but with him. No one, no thing, could overcome the sons of Denethor when they were together.

His love and protection of me when we were children, left with no mother and abandoned by a father whose total commitment was to his country, continued throughout my life. If ever a person would dare to harm me or treat me with disrespect, Boromir would fly to my defense. And yet he was the first to push me towards greatness, the first to teach me love and loyalty and honor. Those who would look at him and see failure, do not see him as he truly was.

Great was his pride; yes, but great was his love and devotion, his passion for Gondor and its people, his utter dedication to this land. Great was his love for his brother. Great beyond telling. I would that you, who knew him only from the beginning of the Quest, had known him before. Had seen his ready sword, heard his great laugh, witnessed his conquest of the Orcs at Osgiliath – when all hope of victory was gone. There is so much I would share with you of Boromir, son of Gondor. Let it suffice to say that there is no equal to this man in my eyes. No soldier more fit, no captain more able, no son more obedient, no friend more passionate, no brother… no brother more loved, more missed, more mourned than Boromir of Gondor. My life, my love, my memory of him knows no bounds.

“To Boromir – beloved Son of Gondor – beloved Brother of Faramir.” I raised my cup, drank and quickly sat again in my chair; my hand covering my eyes. I knew my friends understood the depths of my feelings – that they had overwhelmed me. I blessed them for their silence. I blessed them for their support – it permeated the room. I heard the rustle of cloth sliding across cloth and the sound of little feet hitting the floor.

Pippin stood by my side. His hand touched mine and I felt the warm wetness of tears falling on my hand. I looked up into that beloved face and my heart broke for his was breaking before my very eyes. He tried to speak, but words did not come. Merry came and stood by his side. I smiled through my tears at the love these two have for each other. My heart was stabbed with pain – their love reminded me so much of ours, dear Brother.

Finally, Pippin spoke. “No other on this journey showed me such compassion, such love, such acceptance, such protection. When Faramir spoke of Boromir’s protection of him, my mind went to Parth Galen. Here and in many other places, Boromir put himself in front of me to protect me. This man was the greatest man I have ever known. From the very first moment of our meeting, he judged me not, but loved me. I think we Halflings perplexed him, as he called us, but he took us under his wings, especially Merry and I, and he watched over us and loved us.

I can’t tell you the number of times that Merry and I would trick him into giving us some of his food. Those long marches that Mithrandir forced upon us were particularly hard upon us Hobbits… no long meals, no elevenses, no afternoon teas, only endless marching. Boromir would always seem to have an extra apple or a piece of bread or some cold cheese stored at his side and when it seemed I might faint from hunger, there he would be, with a scowl and a piece of food. He tried to seem so frightening, but I knew better.

The only flaw I found in Boromir was his total lack of appreciation of pipeweed. I tried a number of times to encourage him to take up this wonderful habit, but he would have none of it. He was stubborn. I will always love this man. I will always remember the look in his eyes when he told me he had tried to take the Ring. Yes, Sam, he told me. He had three arrows in him already, I think, and he turned and told us to run. I didn’t want to leave my friend, but he said he needed to win his honor back. And he told me why. Otherwise, I would not have left him. His heart was broken, his pride dashed on the rocks covered by his blood, and his honor, he thought, was gone, but I only look upon his memory with honor.

I cannot bear the thought of what he did for us that day, of what he did for us the entire time we were together. I will always love him. And I beg you all to love him too. To Boromir – dearest friend.”

I grasped Pippin in my arms. Such a little thing. Yet so large in heart. I would that I could bring you back in some way, dear Brother, but this will have to do – the love that Pippin and I have for you.

But no, we were not finished. Aragorn stood and bid us all do the same. “What words can I say to honor my friend? There are none in the language of elves, dwarves or men. Yet I cannot let this time pass without a word. You, Faramir and Imrahil, have known him far longer than we who walked with him the last few months of his life. You were witness countless times to his courage, his strength, his fealty to his people and his Steward. You above all, know the extent of his passion for Gondor and his pride in Gondor and all it stands for. Yes, his pride – perhaps it was his downfall, but it was also his great strength. Because of his pride, I was able to see what serving Gondor meant. I was able to know the need for her King. I was able to begin to take on that Kingship as we walked the fields of Hollin, the Mines of Moria, and the great land of Lothlorien.

My heart broke as I beheld him amidst the corpses of the many Orcs he had slain. Valiant unto the end was this man, my Brother. I will not have it said of him that he failed. He rose above more than I have had to endure. Legolas, Gimli and I, at the Falls of Rauros, declared his worth in song. Now I will declare it in a tangible way. My first duty as King is to proclaim Boromir ‘Lord of Gondor,’ and to have erected in a rebuilt Osgiliath, a statue in his honor. For this man was a true Son of Gondor and a true friend of his king.”

The servants then brought in food and more drink and pipeweed. Pippin squealed in delight and I laughed openly and the tears were banished from my eyes. We spent the rest of the night laughing and singing. We mourned you well that night, dear Brother, sharing your life both in word and in stories and songs and laughter.

Before the night was over, I drew Éowyn aside and asked her to remember me while she was in Rohan. They will be back for Elessar’s wedding and to take Théoden’s body back to Edoras with them. At that time, I hope to ask her something very important. Don’t smile at me, Brother. You knew this day would come for me. I will not forget you, but I think my letters will now be going somewhere else.

Bless you, dearest Brother, for your love. Bless you for your memory. Bless you for being always with me. And bless you for loving me,


Faramir, beloved Brother of Boromir and Steward to Elessar King, took this final letter, folded it carefully, and placed it in the lebethron box that he had brought back with him from Henneth Annûn. Gently, he placed it on the topmost shelf of his cupboard.

Wherever Faramir went, the box went with him. He spent his final days, with his king’s permission, in Henneth Annûn after his beloved Éowyn passed. There he gave up his last breath. Faramir was laid to rest next to his brother’s memorial in the newly-built Steward’s House.

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11 Comment(s)

What an excellent work, Alcardilmë!
Truly I admire your style of writing and wonderful ideas! These feelings, these emotions… They are so deep, so full of hope, of love. Thank you!

— Anastasiya    Wednesday 10 March 2010, 17:30    #

Many thanks for your kind words, Anastasiya. I do so love writing about the brothers.

Alcardilmë    Saturday 13 March 2010, 4:34    #

Wow! The emotions are so raw, they are dripping from the letters, they are dripping from my screen. Loved it! Great work! Thanks!

dream.in.a.jar    Thursday 25 March 2010, 15:06    #

Gosh – most pleased that you like this. I would offer a handkerchief for your screen, if I could. Very grateful for your comments!

Alcardilmë    Sunday 28 March 2010, 4:14    #

Wow. Gorgeously done. Intensely felt and expertly crafted. I love seeing the battle commander Faramir in action. Still thinking and feeling, but never wavering in his leadership and valor. Thank you.

— Vanwa Hravani    Monday 29 March 2010, 13:56    #

You have such a gift for translating emotions into words! This is surely what Faramir was thinking and feeling during those times.

I especially liked the mention of the friends lost in battle. They weren’t nameless, faceless ‘extras’ to the brothers. They were real men with lives and familes, and each would be mourned.

— trixe    Monday 29 March 2010, 22:14    #

My deepest thanks for your intense words, Vanwa Hravani! Never wavering is right. The lieutenant will indeed grow into the fine captain that we all know and love. But I cannot take credit; I only write what Faramir tells me to. :D

Alcardilmë    Sunday 4 April 2010, 4:42    #

Dear trixie, it is an honor to receive such a note of encouragement from an author whom I value! As for Faramir, I can see him caring for his men. Not as chattle, but as important parts of his life. Mourning lost friends must have occurred on a daily basis… the life of a soldier of Gondor was not a safe life. Again, many thanks for your gift of comment!

Alcardilmë    Sunday 4 April 2010, 4:51    #

I have just read all of the letters in one sitting, so to say. I am still crying so much that I almostfeel that my heart will tear apart. I am in a hospital and a dear friend of mine just passed away. we both have cancer, but mine is treatable, his wasn’t. I sat next to him this sunday and we spoke of all the things we would do when we got out of here. he took care of me, when I was sick from the chemo he helped me, he encourage me to stay strong and he was always there for me. When my boyfriend broke up with me because I was to sick for him to be with me he comforted me. He was like a nother big brother, one who could understand. his family visited me as much as they visited him, my own parents have never come. He died the same night and I never got to tell him how much I loved him. I feel like I am all alone now, even though some of my friends come I feel like I don’t have the strength to fight anymore. Why couldn’t I have died instead of him? Your letters has inspired me to start writing to him. I will never forget him and I wont let him be.
Tank you for this

— Ingrid    Wednesday 28 April 2010, 16:30    #

Ingrid – my heart goes out to you. I’m glad the Letters gave you inspiration. Writing is an incredible gift… I truly know what you decide to write will help heal. As for me, the Letters definitely helped me. Some folks say that feedback really isn’t necessary for a dedicated writer, but I put things that are a part of me into my writing. When folks respond, I feel more human. I feel connected to humanity. If that makes any sense. Thank you for your comments, but especially for your courage. Blessings!

Alcardilmë    Saturday 1 May 2010, 4:23    #

I am in tears. You have managed to put into words the feelings of all who have lost a loved one. I’m certain that I won’t be the only one of your readers to write to a departed relative, friend or lover. I thank you for showing me another path to healing a long held grief. Bless you!

— Dancingkatz    Sunday 8 July 2012, 4:30    #

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