The sun was high above Osgiliath when Faramir's advisor and friend, Mablung, approached him.
"Captain," he said, "it is not too late. We may yet find the halflings and bring them to your father."
Faramir replied, "My decision is made. I will not go back on my word. I would hope that Faramir of Gondor would still have some honor left." The look in his eyes then did not invite further conversation.
Yet Mablung ventured to speak, "I need to know your mind in this. You let the hobbits go without, to me it seems, any reason. So suddenly."
Faramir turned to him. "It was not so sudden," he said. "Or not so sudden as it seemed. From the moment I realized that the Ring was in my hands, I sensed it was a treasure beyond my control." Mablung shook his head. "Did you not see the creature, Gollum?" Faramir demanded. "What he was? And If I needed more convincing that the Ring boded evil, the Nazgul provided it."
Again, Mablung shook his head. "That may be so, Captain, but I must warn once more, your life will be forfeit. Your father will not spare you because you are kin."
"I do not need to be reminded what kin means to my father," Faramir said sadly, making his companion silent. "My life would have been forfeit had I taken the Ring." Faramir looked to the sky and declared, "The decision is made, nothing for it now. We must protect our people. Osgiliath must hold!"
---
Faramir looked to the sky in wariness as he kept watch in the ruins of Osgiliath. He was not alone. All sat up, allowing themselves a smoke on their pipes, but little conversation. Faramir, a contemplative man by nature, relived the past few days. He hardly knew himself. He had been short with the Hobbits, tying them up without finding whether they were friends or foes. More than once the halflings had begged to be let go. Yet he refused. Even knowledge of their friendship with Boromir did not earn his trust.
Worse, Faramir had threatened the pain of death upon the hobbits' companion, and by forcing Frodo to trick the creature, he had caused a rift between them. The grief and sorrow expressed by that creature at the betrayal was all on his hands.
Yet, as though an unseen hand was forcing him, Faramir had continued to harden his heart and oppress the halfings, even to the stealing of the Ring.
Ah, there it was. This theft would have meant his father's favor. Would it have meant that no longer would Boromir be the hero son of Gondor? But his brother, Faramir the Great, who brought back the ruling ring and saved his people, would be renowned.
The stocky halfling had told Faramir that the Ring had driven his brother mad. If true, and the Ring could take control over a man such as Boromir, had th had then the Ring been controlling him when he, Faramir, was with the halflings? Perhaps that accounted for his behavior. For he had acted as one possessed, a man that he did not know.
Then he let the Ring go. That was almost as mad, and as Mablung said, coming as it was so suddenly. Faramir had been afraid, that explained part of it, but there was also something else. He had seen in Sam the man he usually was. One who did what he believed was right, who inspired, did not command in coolness.
Now he did not know anything. Neither his mind, nor heart. That too, no doubt, was the Ring.
Yet he knew he did right. That was his sure knowledge.
He had his fall. Now was the time of redemption.
***
Dreams now haunted Faramir, till he wished not to sleep. Yet oddly, in the dark mists Faramir also found a strange comfort. Brooding into the silence he reproached himself. Not a superstitious man by nature, Faramir could not help but see something moving in him. Was this friendly or no, he was uncertain. But moving him it was.
He slept and met the Ring again, relived the Nazgul, the decision to let the hobbits go, something begging him to change his mind and find Frodo. Then another image, that of a rider in white, urging him on his journey, imploring him to continue as he had.
Faramir dreamed also, as though from another alternate past, of a better manner in which he could have dealt with the halflings. In this past, he was one who would not touch the weapon of the enemy were his own land lying in ruins. He spoke to the hobbits with courtesy and respect and did not meet the Nazgul, nor inflame it by shooting at it.
Then Faramir awoke back in the mists and realized that while he was only a half-day's ride from home, he was still lost.
"Captain," he said, "it is not too late. We may yet find the halflings and bring them to your father."
Faramir replied, "My decision is made. I will not go back on my word. I would hope that Faramir of Gondor would still have some honor left." The look in his eyes then did not invite further conversation.
Yet Mablung ventured to speak, "I need to know your mind in this. You let the hobbits go without, to me it seems, any reason. So suddenly."
Faramir turned to him. "It was not so sudden," he said. "Or not so sudden as it seemed. From the moment I realized that the Ring was in my hands, I sensed it was a treasure beyond my control." Mablung shook his head. "Did you not see the creature, Gollum?" Faramir demanded. "What he was? And If I needed more convincing that the Ring boded evil, the Nazgul provided it."
Again, Mablung shook his head. "That may be so, Captain, but I must warn once more, your life will be forfeit. Your father will not spare you because you are kin."
"I do not need to be reminded what kin means to my father," Faramir said sadly, making his companion silent. "My life would have been forfeit had I taken the Ring." Faramir looked to the sky and declared, "The decision is made, nothing for it now. We must protect our people. Osgiliath must hold!"
---
Faramir looked to the sky in wariness as he kept watch in the ruins of Osgiliath. He was not alone. All sat up, allowing themselves a smoke on their pipes, but little conversation. Faramir, a contemplative man by nature, relived the past few days. He hardly knew himself. He had been short with the Hobbits, tying them up without finding whether they were friends or foes. More than once the halflings had begged to be let go. Yet he refused. Even knowledge of their friendship with Boromir did not earn his trust.
Worse, Faramir had threatened the pain of death upon the hobbits' companion, and by forcing Frodo to trick the creature, he had caused a rift between them. The grief and sorrow expressed by that creature at the betrayal was all on his hands.
Yet, as though an unseen hand was forcing him, Faramir had continued to harden his heart and oppress the halfings, even to the stealing of the Ring.
Ah, there it was. This theft would have meant his father's favor. Would it have meant that no longer would Boromir be the hero son of Gondor? But his brother, Faramir the Great, who brought back the ruling ring and saved his people, would be renowned.
The stocky halfling had told Faramir that the Ring had driven his brother mad. If true, and the Ring could take control over a man such as Boromir, had th had then the Ring been controlling him when he, Faramir, was with the halflings? Perhaps that accounted for his behavior. For he had acted as one possessed, a man that he did not know.
Then he let the Ring go. That was almost as mad, and as Mablung said, coming as it was so suddenly. Faramir had been afraid, that explained part of it, but there was also something else. He had seen in Sam the man he usually was. One who did what he believed was right, who inspired, did not command in coolness.
Now he did not know anything. Neither his mind, nor heart. That too, no doubt, was the Ring.
Yet he knew he did right. That was his sure knowledge.
He had his fall. Now was the time of redemption.
***
Dreams now haunted Faramir, till he wished not to sleep. Yet oddly, in the dark mists Faramir also found a strange comfort. Brooding into the silence he reproached himself. Not a superstitious man by nature, Faramir could not help but see something moving in him. Was this friendly or no, he was uncertain. But moving him it was.
He slept and met the Ring again, relived the Nazgul, the decision to let the hobbits go, something begging him to change his mind and find Frodo. Then another image, that of a rider in white, urging him on his journey, imploring him to continue as he had.
Faramir dreamed also, as though from another alternate past, of a better manner in which he could have dealt with the halflings. In this past, he was one who would not touch the weapon of the enemy were his own land lying in ruins. He spoke to the hobbits with courtesy and respect and did not meet the Nazgul, nor inflame it by shooting at it.
Then Faramir awoke back in the mists and realized that while he was only a half-day's ride from home, he was still lost.