"Mithrandir?"
"What is it?"
"When I think of governing the people who will settle in Ithilien, I find myself wondering what my father would have done. Is that … wrong?" Faramir asked hesitantly, wary of the wizard's sharp tongue.
"Not necessarily. Your father was a wise man in many ways and cared greatly for Gondor."
"He went mad," Faramir pointed out. "He thought that you and the lord Aragorn were plotting against him."
"The wisest man's thoughts may turn to madness, if he is under too great a burden. You know the story of Hurin Thalion, do you not?"
"Yes. He was captured by Morgoth and imprisoned on a high peak, from which he watched the evils that befell his family. But what has that to with my father?"
"You're forgetting the most important part," Mithrandir said impatiently. Faramir winced inside. "He could only see what Morgoth allowed him to see and so he thought that Thingol and Melian had wronged his family. Now tell me what Melian told him."
Faramir tried to remember. "It was, 'Morgoth hath bewitched thee, for he that seeth through Morgoth's eyes, willing or unwilling, seeth all things crooked.' " He had always loved the old tales.
Mithrandir nodded. "The palantir cannot be made to lie, but Sauron could affect what your father could see, making him see the bad side of everything."
"But he never trusted you, even before he started looking into the palantir," Faramir said. He could remember his father's lectures about why he shouldn't believe Mithrandir. "He said that you just wanted to use Gondor."
"I am a servant of the Valar; I work for the wellbeing of all Middle-earth. Your father was the Steward of Gondor; he worked only for her people's wellbeing. He twisted that until he thought that I wished to replace him with a king who would do my bidding at Gondor's expense."
"And was he right?" Faramir could hardly believe the question had come from his lips. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean—"
Mithrandir raised his eyebrows. "Didn't you? What do you think of your king, Steward?"
"I think he is a wise man," Faramir said slowly. "Like you, he thinks of all Middle-earth, not just Gondor—he is the king of Gondor and Arnor. Father would not have approved—if he had been here when Lord Aragorn arrived, I think he would have cited Pelendur's rejection of Arvedui's claim and denied him kingship—but I do. And if Frodo spoke truly, Boromir did as well."
"He did respect Aragorn," Mithrandir said. His lips quirked into a smile as he added, "But I see my judgment does not matter to you?"
"If it did not, would I have let Frodo and Sam go free? I knew Father would want me to bring the Ring back."
Mithrandir sighed. "Yes. Sending them was a fool's hope, and your father's mind was already twisted by despair."
Faramir smiled wryly. "It is well that I learn from my father's mistakes. The thought of rebuilding and healing Gondor after the war's destruction requires much hope."
"If you look outside, you may find a sign of hope," said Mithrandir, smiling mysteriously.
"What is it—no, you'll insist that I look for myself," said Faramir. He and Mithrandir rose to their feet and walked out of the building. From the top level of the city, Faramir could see what used to be lands surrounding Minas Tirith. Where fertile farms had stood were now the ruins of homes and the remains of Mordor's siege engines. The black outer wall of Minas Tirith was whole, but the gate was destroyed and the buildings on the lower levels smashed.
Faramir looked up to see Mithrandir walking to the courtyard of the citadel, and he quickly followed. When the door to the courtyard swung open, Faramir gasped. There, standing next to the dead tree, was a sapling.
Faramir looked at Mithrandir and smiled. "Father often said he wanted the old Gondor back—but I believe I have hope for a new Gondor. We have lived to see Minas Anor."