I got The Lord of the Rings movie trilogy for Christmas, and after watching The Return of the King and consulting the book I just had to write this.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Lord of the Rings.
"Father." Denethor is abruptly drawn away from his contemplation of the palantír by that small, slightly apprehensive voice.
"Faramir." Denethor forces a smile onto his somber, lined face. "You have finished your studies already?" Since Faramir shows little to no skill with a sword (there's still time though; after all, he's only seven), Denethor supposes it's a good thing his youngest child takes to his books with such enthusiasm.
Faramir nods. "Yes, Father. Look out the casement, it's almost dark." Denethor does, and is shocked to see the sun setting over the western horizon. The sky is stained a blood crimson, and he gets a chill, because somewhere, blood is being spilt.
Denethor reluctantly sets the palantír on a nearby table in the high tower, and flicks his hand, signaling for his young son to come near. Faramir sits on the bench beside him, giving him a wide-eyed look out of eyes as clear and gray as a stormy sea, eyes so like his mother's that Denethor can see Finduilas clearly in them, smiling and laughing, just for a moment, and then she is gone. He starts. Finduilas' laughter lingers in the crisp, cold air.
He realizes that Faramir is staring expectantly at him, waiting for him to say something. "How was your day, son?" Denethor unexpectedly feels his tone softening and his voice thawing, despite the clear awkwardness in his question. He can't remember the last time he was alone with his younger child.
From the day Denethor began to look into the palantír, he has always believed that fate is inescapable.
The palantír shows him the future yes, but it also shows him how unavoidable that future is. It shows him the inevitabilities of fate, that it is set in stone, and how, no matter how he tries to avoid it, everything will end as he has seen it in the smooth stone.
"It was alright," Faramir says mildly. "Boromir took me up to the aviary after the midday meal; he showed me the pigeons you use to send messages to your vassals." His eyes glow a little bit as they always do when he speaks of Boromir.
"That's good, son," Denethor murmurs absently. "That's good." The word 'son' on his lips when addressing Faramir is strangely foreign.
Fate is not something to be escaped, but rather embraced.
That is why Faramir's presence is always so unbearable for Denethor.
"Father?" Faramir's voice is a little sad. "I wish you wouldn't look into that stone so often. It always makes you so sad."
When Denethor looks at Boromir, he sees life, new growth in a forest bursting forth in the warmth of spring, but when his eyes lay on Faramir, the pall of death hangs over his second son's face.
He loves both of his sons dearly, but until the end when his eyes must close for the final time, Denethor knows that he must always choose life over death. The palantír has shown him this.
Denethor sighs softly and looks out the casement, unfettered by shutters or intricate iron-wrought guards. "I must, Faramir. I must know what the future holds, for the sake of our kingdom."
Faramir frowns, his face troubled. "But how do you know it's real, Father? How do you know that it isn't just a trick or something that might happen?" His small face is so earnest, so honest and so serious that Denethor can't help but smile a little bit.
So when Faramir returns to Minas Tirith and Boromir doesn't, Denethor can not believe his eyes. Because it was supposed Faramir's death, not Boromir's, never Boromir's.
He distanced himself from his younger son even when it killed him to do it, and he's beginning to realize that maybe that wasn't the right decision.
"Have I ever told you how like your mother you are?"
Faramir starts. "Really? Everyone says I'm like you." His serious face doesn't break into a smile. Faramir is like his father in this respect; unlike Boromir and Finduilas, Faramir does not smile easily.
Denethor shakes his head, and wraps his arms around Faramir, ruffling his hair. Faramir stiffens in surprise, and it hurts a little bit for Denethor to realize how unused to affection Faramir is from his father. "Oh, no, Faramir. You carry your mother's spirit in your heart. That is plain, even for a dusty old Steward like I."
He distanced himself from Faramir because of what he has seen, and because Faramir's just too much like his mother. Denethor thinks of death and the dead every time he looks at Faramir, and it hurts. It hurts so much. He loves Faramir, but he can't stand to be near him, can barely stand to give him a kind word because Denethor knows that for the time being that he must always choose the living over the dead.
The guilt still remains and lingers, gnawing away at his heart. And deep down, though it shames him and mortifies him, Denethor can not deny that he resents his son for evoking such emotions in him.
He is afraid to be close to Faramir, because he knows he will lose him.
So taking that into account, it should come as small surprise that Denethor begins to come a bit unraveled when Boromir dies but Faramir has lived. Suddenly the second son, the son he has attempted to alienate, is the only one left and it's becoming impossible to ignore the pain hidden in his eyes.
And Mithrandir, that damned old man, is tearing down everything that Denethor has built up.
Everything is falling apart.
And then the final, agonizing blow comes. Faramir, his poor, sweet son, is dead. Utterly dead, and Denethor finally knows why he went mad after his son died. Because it is his fault. Because he sent his son to his death. The son that he still loved, and Denethor knows that no parent should ever have to bear the burden of burying a child, let alone both of them, that the grief and sheer agony will consume him.
When Denethor looks at his youngest child's face, still and cold, he thinks about how much he loved him, how much sorrow he has rained down, both on Faramir and himself, because of something he saw so many years ago. He thinks about the nature of love and favoritism. He thinks of how hard it is to admit when one is wrong, to cast off doubt and darkness, and how he was too weak to do any of that.
The private hell Denethor has created for himself is closing in, and all he can do is burn.
Denethor's worst enemy is not Mithrandir, Saruman, Sauron, or the Nazgûl. In the end, Denethor's worst enemy is himself.
Faramir's stomach grumbles. He blushes. Denethor laughs, the sound strange to his own somber ears.
Denethor stands and picks up his son up, grunting. "Come on, let's go down for supper."
Faramir smiles, and Denethor again thinks he is seeing Finduilas, because Faramir's smile is just like hers. The image clears, and Denethor smiles back, inexplicably fiercely glad that he decided to managed to show some sign of affection to his son.
The next day, when Denethor looks into the palantír, he sees his son as a grown man, dead. And he never looks at Faramir the same way again.
When Denethor throws himself on the crackling funeral pyre, it is because he always knew he would.
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow—
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if Hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand—
How few! Yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep—while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp!
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
—Edgar Allan Poe, A Dream Within a Dream
Since Denethor spent so much time staring into that palantír of his, I figured something like this had to have happened at some point. I mean, considering how badly Denethor comes undone after believing Faramir is dead, it's pretty obvious that he does love him, and parents never treat their children the way Denethor does Faramir without reason, even if that reason makes no sense to anyone but themselves. I also thought that there had to be a reason Denethor put himself and Faramir through the hell that he does.
If this is at all confusing, let me know.