Letters from Faramir
We have reached Minas Tirith. So few
of us. I am still shaken, shaken and weary but we are inside the
Citadel now and there is a moment when I may rest. I sit here in your
room, at the table you wrote so many reports from, feel the warm oak on
my fingers and wish with all my heart that it was you sitting at this
desk, with me in my customary seat across from you, laughing at your
sharing of happenings in the field. You would not have laughed at the
tale I will now tell.
We were approaching the City, my eyes
turned towards the White Tower looking for you, hoping to see you
standing upon the battlements as was your wont, when I saw them, felt
their evil presence attack the very air around us. I had the trumpeter
blow a blast to forewarn those inside to open the Gate. The fell beasts
swooped down upon us, the horses were wild with fright, the men were
thrown. All seemed lost. My eyes were dragged from the walls of the
City back to those who were chasing us. I saw my men fall and I turned
back, but the beast was upon me, its great claws reaching out, its foul
stench enveloping me and suddenly – he was there - Mithrandir! The fell
beast could not knock me off my horse, but the sight of him almost did!
The Halfling had told me he was lost in Moria. Yet, here he was before
me. And in splendor, Boromir. This was not the Grey Pilgrim in front of
me, but some mighty Lord and Warrior – almost, I would swear – a Vala.
But that is not possible. He was all in white, his great beard also and
a long white cloak flowed out behind him as he galloped towards us. The
steed he rode was magnificent - Its white coat shone as if covered with
mithril - never had I seen such an animal.
He raised his hand. Did he bear a
sword or what - something that shone like the sun? That light alerted
the Nazgûl and one broke off and swept towards him. The beating
of the beast’s wings as it passed over me was deafening. The very
ground shook in time to their undulating sweeps. I tried to cry out a
warning, but no sound would come. Mithrandir raised his hand and a
shaft of light flashed, up towards the great beast. It gave a cry and
wheeled off. The others wavered, and I felt a shudder almost in time,
before they too broke away and left us on the Pelennor.
"How could this be?" I asked as I
grabbed his arm. Boromir, I wanted to jump from my horse and hug him –
not for the escape though surely it was needed – but for him. I had
forgotten in the grief of you, how much this man meant to me, how much
I valued his friendship, and now, in our darkest hour, to find him here
with me. It was almost more than I could bear what with this weariness
We spoke for only a moment, though my
heart cried out to sit with him in the Great Library and talk about
little things – the fate of Númenor, the sundering of Beleriand.
But there was no time for that. Mayhap, if we are victorious?
Boromir, the City was wild with joy.
You would have thought a great battle had been won. But our people are
so starved for even a morsel of hope. I fear they have heard rumors of
your…. My heart goes out to them. Too long have I been away. Their
cries of Faramir and Mithrandir bounced off the very walls of the City.
And my heart fell. Someone cried out, "The Lord of Gondor has
returned." 'No, no,' I thought, 'It is all wrong. The cry should be,
"The Lords of Gondor have returned."' Never have I come home to a more
unwelcome welcome, for your absence is engulfing, all encompassing. I
can hardly bear it. Where are you, my brother? Is nothing the way it
should be? There must be someone here who misses you also. Someone who
feels your absence as heavily as I. And yet, I must keep my head up,
not succumb to this grief. The people are desperate for hope and I must
show it to them.
But wait! There was a Halfling there
in the crowd, dressed in the livery of the Tower. I tried to seek him
out, to speak with him. Mayhap he was with you, knew you. But we were
both being forced forward towards the Tower Hall. No time for thought
or questions. I was curtly reminded that Denethor awaited me and even
escape from the Nazgûl was no reason to be late for him. They
pushed me onward. I was beyond weary.
Forgive me, brother. I must spend a
moment in preparation for my meeting with Father. I know you
understand. I cannot write more. I… Boromir, I miss you. I will put
this letter in the box when I return to Henneth Annún.