Summary: You watch in anguish as the light fades.
Universe: Books
Author's Note: I really don't have much to report here; I hope you all like the way I've written Faramir's perspective on Denethor's decline.
Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings.
It is no easy thing to watch the degeneration of a great man, to look on as he fades into madness and infamy and know that there is nothing that can be done, yet be possessed of the desire to heal him all the same.
The Denethor of Faramir's youth was a tall, wise man, bleak in the manner of a man who had seen death and knew in his heart that the end was nigh on hand. He seemed so indestructible, so strong in those distant days and hazy hours; it is difficult to connect that seemingly invincible man with the reality of him now.
Of course, Denethor can not be reached by his younger son now, not in any way. Perhaps Boromir could have made him see reason, but Boromir is dead and gone, and can only harm, not help. Denethor always leaned on Boromir, used him as a support, took his advice and counsel even from the time when he was naught but a green adolescent. Now that Boromir is dead, he has lost that support and careened into unreasoning darkness.
He has never had much thought or time for his younger child. Faramir was always the second son, too young to be taken into counsel, too near to his mother in essence to be anything but a reminder of grief to his father, so he was pushed aside and ignored. Denethor was never consciously unkind until the end, he simply wasn't aware of Faramir's existence, unless something drastic was done to get his attention. He could be brusque, he could be cold, he could be hurtful and often was, but he was rarely aware of how wounding he was.
And he's still not. Despite everything, the meaning of his own behaviors eludes him. And he's still kind from time to time, in a vague, careless way, as he always was.
But he would rather have Boromir, and there is no disguising that.
He starts to fade, and all Faramir can do is watch.
The father who was a figure of nervous awe in Faramir's life, someone who was to be respected and feared and if all possible avoided during his childhood, has crumbled away, become naught but ash. The weakness of Men and the grief of Men have scored deep wounds in his flesh and broken his heart and destroyed his mind.
Faramir watches, in anguish and no small fear, the way he has declined and realizes for the first time in his life that his father is old, old indeed.