Letters from Faramir
Letter Nine - Part One
From Faramir - as transcribed by Peregrin Took
Hullo, Boromir, Pippin here. Now, don't get yourself all concerned.
Faramir is doing well. He's right here beside me, but he was wounded a
little and so is not able to write. So, I came along just to say hullo
and offered my services, you know I'm in the Livery of Gondor now! Yes,
it's a long tale, one you would enjoy.
Faramir is jabbing me and insisting that I start his letter, but a bit
of explanation is warranted. You may be wondering how a Hobbit (you
would say Halfling, but I'm writing this letter!) – how a Hobbit came
about being able to write; you didn't know that about me, did you?
Well, let me tell you. As future Thain of Tuckborough, master of the
Shire-moot, and Captain of the Shire-muster, in the line of Gerontius,
the Old Took...
I am not allowed to continue. Faramir is being quite firm. I must start
his letter. I'll get back to my explanation soon.
Oh, and I'm not the least bit bothered by writing a letter to you even
though you're dead. In fact, I think it's a good idea and I might write
you myself seeing as Faramir is so impatient. He's trying to call the
Warden, so I've promised him I won't interrupt anymore.
I am told there have been meetings
all morning with Aragorn, Mithrandir, Imrahil, and our warriors. That
perhaps is the reason why I have not seen father since my return. They
plan to go to Barad-dûr.
I was unable to give father the time
he needed. Two-hundred men were not enough to stay the Enemy at
Osgiliath, no matter their worth as warriors. The Enemy was too great
and we were quickly overrun at the Rammas. I don't remember much of the
battle. I had called retreat, again, and we headed up the Pelennor with
a horde of Orcs, Southrons, Haradrim, and mûmakil bearing down
upon us. There were few of us left, but I heard a trumpet and saw that
a sortie was pouring out of the Great Gate towards us.
When I looked back, though, I was
frozen in place. The line of the Enemy was long and great; I have never
seen such an army! They were putting torches to houses and barns along
the way and that, coupled with the fiery blasts against the wall,
flooded my mind with memory – memory of Mordor.
Do you remember the time, Boromir,
when I was about seven and you decided it was time to see what this
thing was, this mountain that caused our mother to lose all hope? You
told father you were going to Osgiliath to visit Calimehtar. He let you
go – you knew how to persuade him. I wouldn't let you leave this time
without me and you hid me from the Guard – we rode hard, not stopping
at Osgiliath, but going directly towards the Crossroads. We camped
under the stars that night and I was so happy to be with you; you had
not taken me on an adventure such as this before. I felt I must be
growing up for you to take me with you. I could hardly sleep for the
excitement. I tried to tell you some of the Elven stories, but you
would have none of it. The next morning we left the horses and started
the long climb up the Ephel Dûath. I had no idea the dreaded
mountain was so far from home. Why was mother so afraid of something so
I started to be afraid myself when we
saw our first band of Orcs, shortly after dusk. I'd never seen them up
close and this was too close. We hid among the rocks and I think you
were sorry you had brought me along. I remember letting out a little
cry or two and the terrible scowl on your face as you heard my noise. I
was so frightened. They carried huge torches and swept the ground in
front of them looking for something, I know not what. I could see your
need to push on, your wish to complete the task you had set for
yourself, but I could also see that you were struggling with what to do
with me. I just sat there squished down as small as I could squish
myself, hoping the Orcs would not turn towards us, would not find us.
Suddenly, you stood me up and turned
me back onto our path. I knew you had decided that we must get out of
there, but something must have given us away. The Orcs stopped, raised
their heads, and looked in our direction. I thought I was going to die.
You pushed me forward and yelled, "Run!" and I did, as fast as I could,
slipping and sliding down the path. Branches hit my face in my
desperate slide, but I did not care. The Orcs were shouting and
yelling. I could not understand them, but I knew they had seen us and
were chasing us. You had that little sword father had given you out and
ready, but I could not see what you could do against one Orc, let alone
We were still far above the
Crossroads. The terrain became easier, but by now I could hardly
breathe, the long slide down, the whip-like cuts on my hands and face,
the sweat pouring down my back, all took its toll on me and I fell
forward. I knew we were dead. There was no hope. But you yelled at me,
told me to get up and that you had my back and not to worry. You would
not let them harm me. I cried as I ran; I did not want to lose you.
"Please hurry," I looked back and cried. I was afraid you were going to
stop and fight them yourself.
As I faced forward again, I ran right
into one. They had come up from the side. It started to grab my cloak
and I screamed. Suddenly, it was falling to the ground with an arrow in
its neck. I fell forward with it and knew no more.
Boromir, sorry, we have to stop now.
The Warden is very upset about Faramir not resting and all, and doesn't
like talk of Orcs in his Houses of Healing. I'll try to sneak back
later and, hopefully, we can get this finished. I want to know what
Oh and Boromir – I miss you too!
Pippin for Faramir