Letters from Faramir
The Horn has come to Gondor! Father sent word with Hirgon. He bids me
stay in Ithilient. How can I stay here? Gnawing dread has been my
constant companion since the horror of your watery bier passed by me. I
must know what befell you. I must know if that was a vision of
something that might have been or has been. So I have disobeyed Father;
I have come to Minas Tirith, to the Tower of Guard.
He is livid, Boromir. You know how he can be. But I would face the very
powers of the Dark Lord even, to hear more, to perhaps once again find
hope - hope that you live, that the Horn is a sign of your...I must not
let the tears show; I must be the Captain you trained me to be.
Only...Boromir, I need you alive. I need you here.
I walked into the Tower Hall as chills ran down my arms. I am
unaccustomed to being here without you by my side. He was in the
Steward's Chair - a spectre almost, hard and dark and cold as ice. His
face was set in a scowl as he watched me approach the throne.
And then I saw it, lying on his lap, cloven in two. The Horn - broken
and I remembered the sight of your broken sword and I died inside. Some
powerful weapon had broken it, an orc axe or an arrow. The arrows I saw
at your feet were not common arrows. I had not seen ones like this
before. Like great tree trunks, and I knew they had riddled your body.
How can he sit there like stone! The tears catch in my throat. I will
them to stay there - not to fall. I cannot speak, Boromir. He looks at
me with anger and hatred - they slam into my heart. I know now he rues
the day he let you go. I know now he wishes I was the one who had gone.
My death would be more palatable than yours. And, my brother, I would
have it so! Nothing has prepared me for this moment. This knowing that
you are gone, for you would have brought the Horn with you, even
broken, it would have been precious to you. Yet, here it lies on our
Father's knees and it breaks further the bond between Father and Son.
All your plans and strategies, dear Boromir, to bring us together, have
been for naught. You, against your will, now lie dead between us. There
is nothing I can do for him. He closes me out. For your sake, I would
try to mend this, but it is folly.
Ah, Boromir, that your feet were already on Gondor's soil. My heart
aches to know you were within a breath of being home, of being with me
again. What foul sorcery is this that would take you from me at the
last moment? How your heart must have rejoiced to see the Argonath, to
feel the wind change and note the scent of Gondor on it. I can see you
lifting your face towards the city. As you did when we would hunt in
Ithilien. We would come back to the Anduin and I would watch in wonder
the transformation that took place as you looked across towards Minas
Tirith. I have never understood the love, the longing you have for our
city - it beats in your breast, it consumes you. You are Gondor to me,
dearest brother. Yet where is Gondor now? And what will become of her?
Father has sent me back to Osgiliath and I would go - there is nothing
left for me in Minas Tirith, though now I am fated to be her next
Steward. My heart is in Ithilien and I will fight to protect this fair
You would be so proud of our Rangers, but that is for another time.
Suffice it to say, I wait for your return, against all hope. I will not
give up that hope, though all seem lost.
Return to me, if you can.