Finduilas Menu
A Mother's Gift: The final farewell
Minas Tirith 2988
On the day of Finduilas' funeral, a gray figure on a white horse rode up to the
White City and hurried toward a meeting with Prince Imrahil. This arrival went
unremarked by a five-year-old who, in a room deep within a palace draped with
black cloth, lay on a bed wrapped in his mother's cloak and trapped in grief and
terrifying dreams.
He could not believe that his mother was gone; it was too terrible of a thought
to take in. Almost as horrible to him was the thought that he would go to Dol
Amroth while Boromir would remain in Minas Tirith. He was an intelligent boy and
understood the reasons for it. He liked his uncle and his father often
frightened him but he would rather be with Boromir, even if it meant risking
Denethor's fists. He knew he would do what his mother wanted. He had promised he
would. He barely noticed when his brother sat down next to him on the bed.
Boromir embraced his little brother and said, "We will see each other
again, Fari. You know that. Father and I will visit you at Dol Amroth and, when
father is himself again, you can come back home. It is his grief and worry for
mother that makes him act like that and Uncle Imrahil is always very kind."
Faramir, voice choked with tears, said, "But it will be so long before I
see you again, Boromir!"
The boys sat on their mother's large, canopied bed and discussed how Faramir
would take their mother's bird Finwe with him and how they would write often and
never forget each other. They were nestled together on the bed when their uncle
entered the room with Gandalf.
The wizard gave the boys a long, assessing look filled with compassion and said,
"Hello. I am Gandalf the Grey and I will be going to Dol Amroth with
Imrahil and young Faramir here. Boromir, my lad, go with your uncle for a
minute. I would like to have a word with your brother."
Somewhat reluctantly, Boromir left the room with his uncle. Gandalf sat on the
bed next to Faramir, smiled and said, "Faramir, your uncle tells me you
have interesting dreams. I think I can help you with that. I also think there
are a great deal of other things I could teach you and I will stay in Dol Amroth
so that I may do so. Would you like that?"
The boy took in the kind eyes and smile of the wizard, perked up with interest
and said, "I think so. Can you make me stop having dreams? The ones I have
are usually bad and make father angry."
Gandalf frowned and said, "My dear boy, dreams can tell us many important
things. You should not wish yours away. Are they disturbing your rest? If they
are, I can help."
The boy shivered, nodded his head, and said, "They do. I dreamed mother
died and then she did. Now they are all of being alone in the dark or
burning."
Gandalf put his hand on the boy's forehead and said, "Close your eyes and
don't be afraid."
Faramir felt a warm glow as if he was sitting by a fireplace and fell into a
deep sleep. He awoke some time later when his father entered the room. Gandalf
and the others were not in sight.
Denethor's tone was at first non-threatening and he said, "I was wondering
where that cloak was. I need it, Faramir. They are dressing your mother for
burial and I want her to be wearing that cloak."
Faramir, wary but stubborn, replied, "Mother said I could have it."
Darkness seemed to come into Denethor's eyes and his body tensed, "She did
not know what she was doing. She was ill. That cloak was my gift to her and I
will dispose of it as I will!"
Faramir stood up on the bed and inched away from his father. The Steward grabbed
the edge of the cloak and ripped it off the boy with such force that, coupled
with the unstable surface of the bed, Faramir lost his balance. As he fell, his
head hit the corner of the bedside table with a sharp impact and his unconscious
body lay crumpled on the floor, blood seeping from his scalp.
When he regained consciousness Gandalf, his Uncle Imrahil, and his brother
attended him. His head throbbed and he noticed that the cloak was carefully laid
on a nearby chair.
In a weak voice he asked, "What happened? Where is father?"
Gandalf looked at a stony-faced Imrahil, then back at Faramir and said,
"You are lucky in your brother, dear lad. We had not gone far and Boromir
was the first to hear you fall and came to your aid before your father could
summon the healer. He reminded your father that he always taught you boys to
honor your word. You were not out long and the cut on your scalp is very
shallow. You will still be able to travel."
Boromir blushed fiercely and Faramir, in a quiet voice, said, "Thank you,
Boromir." He then turned to his uncle and asked, "Can I see
father?"
The golden-haired Prince of Dol Amroth was grim and said, "Only if you want
to and only in my presence."
Faramir whispered, "I do."
A stricken Denethor came in the room and said, "Fari! I didn't mean it! It
was an accident."
With a stronger voice Faramir responded, "I know that father. I don't blame
you. I still love you but I am going with Uncle Imrahil."
To the surprise of both his sons and his brother-in-law, Denethor took both boys
in his arms and sobbed for a long time.
Later, both boys cried as they laid flowers on their mother's grave and again
when they said goodbye to each other. Faramir's cheeks were still wet when,
along with Finwe and his mother's cloak, he turned to watch the black cloth of
mourning darkening the White City and waving in the breeze.
