Letters from Faramir

Letter Nine - Part One

by Alcardilme

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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 far away?

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 so many.

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 happened next.

Oh and Boromir – I miss you too!

Pippin for Faramir

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