Letters from Faramir
Letter Nine - Part Two
Let’s see, where was I … ah, yes…
And Boromir – I miss you too! And I do. I’ve been trying to tell
Faramir all about our adventures, but he doesn’t seem to understand
much right now…head wound, you know. And he really wants me to get this
letter written. Really – probably afraid that old Warden will come back
before we’re finished. Oh by the way, I liked your brother’s story
about the Orcs – you know, that’s the way it was for Merry and me. You
didn’t see that part… we ran right into a band of them on Amon Hen as
we were looking for Frodo. Oh dear, Boromir, I don’t want to think of
that now. I believe I’ll get on with Faramir’s letter. He has been very
patient this morning! And I am getting hungry.
I don’t know how father knew where we
were that fateful day in Ithilien but he sent his Rangers after us.
They made quick work of the Orcs. We would have perished if not for his
And now I am told the same is true of
our dash from the Rammas Echor. The men were running, but together and
fighting as they ran. It was no rout, Boromir; they fought well. And
many fell as we pushed forward towards the Great Gate. The Enemy was
all around us. I saw Imrahil in the distance; saw the look of horror on
his face as he battled towards me. He is a great uncle, Boromir, and
true friend! My heart was gladdened and despair fled until the smell of
Nazgûl suddenly assailed the air around me and the Black Breath
turned these valiant warriors into gibbering shadows. They threw their
weapons down and ran wildly over the Pelennor. I sought desperately to
assuage their fears, but to no avail. That is when the first arrow
struck and I fell. Mablung never left my side; he helped me up and we
continued to hack our way forward. Damrod fell with an arrow straight
through his heart; there was nothing I could do. A feeling of
helplessness o’erwhelmed me. The mûmakil were running in fear;
the noise seemed too much for them. They crushed my men in their
fright; we were surrounded. I could not count the arrows that shot
towards the little band of men encompassed about me. As I fell, I saw
Imrahil with his sword raised, yelling – screaming something at the
Orcs, saw him getting closer, and then blackness engulfed me.
I awoke here in the Houses of
Healing. Aragorn came to me in a dream, I think, put his hands on
either side of my head and spoke words over me, words I could not
understand. Then he gave me some warm liquid to drink. They say I was
near death, but it is only two days since I was brought here and the
Warden said I could leave this place soon. One of the healers, Ioreth,
I think, said something about the hands of the King and healing. The
woman has some sense! And she is quite taken with Aragorn.
Boromir – he is a great man. I could
feel power through his hands. He has the look of Númenor on his
face. How could such power be in a man? He brings with him something of
the houses of Westernesse. I am concerned, though, about father’s
acceptance of him, but he has my heart, brother. He will be a great
king and bring honour and peace back to Gondor.
I have pledged my fealty to Aragorn
and, wonder of wonders, he has told me that already you have done this!
Always, dear brother, you are one step ahead of me. I would have heard
more from him, but the drink he gave me, or perhaps the touch of his
hand, caused sleep to o’ercome me.
Not since have I seen him. I am told
he will soon be off to battle the Nameless One. He and Gandalf, Imrahil
and the Ithilien Rangers, my rangers, and the Dúnedain from the
North - and your own knights, too, Boromir. A great army and one that I
am sorely distressed to be not part of. There is no hope that Aragorn
will let me join the battle. Besides, father will need me here to cover
their flank, whether he will it or no, and I must content myself with
that – though he will approve not of whatever I do. I can sense the
grimace on your face, Brother, but you know I speak the truth. Ever
have I tried to do my part for Gondor. Ever have I put aside my own
thoughts and wishes. Father will not listen and turns a deaf ear to all
my words. Would that you were here. I can speak with him on my own. I
will speak with him on my own. But I regret the loss of your presence.
Nay, more than that, I rue the loss of your presence. I cannot fathom
living without you, brother. There is nothing, no one to fill this gap
in my heart.
As I lie here, I recall the times
when I was sick in my youth and you were at my side… I remember the
last time I was ill, always the fear of the plague returning to our
land, you were terrified that I had contracted it – yet it was just a
little thing. The fear I saw in your eyes as you wiped my brow – I
would you were with me now. Is it weakness to want to feel the touch of
your hand on my brow, dear brother? Unbearable is this pain, this
longing. I have scared Pippin – I will press on. I know my duty. I will
bear this ache.
And still no word from father. I had
hoped to see him this day. Aragorn will move our warriors forward on
the morrow, on the road to Mordor. Perhaps father is still sequestered
Pippin, once again, seems distraught
as I mention our father’s name. I think we will put this letter aside
for the moment. He and I must speak. I feel a strange foreboding
springing from him.
I cannot tell you how much I miss you,
Pippin for Faramir
Pippin put down the paper and started to stand, to leave. But Faramir
held him with his gaze, a gaze not unlike that of Denethor's. Pippin
sat once again upon the bed and hung his head. He knew what Faramir
wanted and he did not want to do it, to speak of it. The horror was
still upon his heart.