That evening Faramir sat with Gandalf in the house afforded the Wizard when he was in the city. Even though Denethor detested the sorcerer, even he did not dare to refuse him lodging, perhaps secretly hoping that keeping him near would ward off an attack from Mordor. Faramir sipped from a cordial that his old friend offered and had to admit that he felt slightly better for it. Pippin was there too, which automatically lowered the feeling of gloom, even if the young Hobbit was particularly and abnormally reserved this evening.
"Our young Peregrin is to take an oath of fealty to Gondor tomorrow," Gandalf said conversationally, though Pippin glanced over at Faramir rather timorously, as he wished Gandalf had not mentioned the subject. Well, it had seemed like a good idea at the time… but so did most things that weren't in the end.
"When I swore my oath," Faramir said, "I swore directly to the Steward. Of course, that was under daerada's advice, and it was wise. Daerada, I mean my grandfather, Elrond," Faramir explained at Pippin's confused look.
"So you are Aragorn's son, then?" Pippin said. "I mean, I knew that all along, of course. It was Merry who disagreed and thought you were Boromir's brother…, oh, I'm sorry."
Faramir squeezed his eyes shut tight, fighting against tears. He did not even really know Boromir's fate, and that was the worst part. "How could he…. Mithrandir, I swear to you, he was right behind me as we were leaving Osgiliath."
"What happened exactly, Faramir, from the time you found him?" Gandalf asked.
Faramir recounted all that had occurred at Henneth Annûn, especially regarding Frodo and Sam. Gandalf hugged Faramir, so relieved was he to hear that the Ring was back in the right hands again. "Aragorn was right to trust you," Gandalf said, beaming with pride. "And I, too, knew that if anyone was to be trusted it would be you."
Faramir took the compliment well, but he could not help feeling that there was a slight insinuation that though Faramir could be trusted, Boromir could not.
"You mean he's alive?" Pippin asked. "But why would Strider tell us –"
"Because it was what he thought to be true, Pippin," Gandalf said. "As I have heard it, Boromir took an arrow to his chest, very near his heart, and Stri- Aragorn, could not feel a pulse when he found him near the river. Now, I do know of several venoms that cause the heart to beat so shallowly it would feel as if there was no blood flow, and they often lead to unconsciousness or paralysis as well. So that accounts for the answer to that. However, that also disproves me, for I thought that if Boromir still held the Ring it should explain how he 'disappeared' on the Pelennor."
"Mithrandir," Faramir said tentatively, "is it possible one of those Nazgûl carried him off, thinking he still bore it?"
"It is possible, but so is everything in these days. It is highly unlikely though. For one thing, they would not be looking so much for the one that was believed to have it, for they cannot see clearly, they are only wraiths, after all. They are drawn to it and so would not be drawn to your half-brother. Also, Nazgûl do not take prisoners."
"Then where can he be," Faramir said softly. "Oh, Valar, do not tell me that I shall have to bring this news to his father. He will probably have me hanged for coming back here in the first place."
"Eh… I suppose I saved you from that one," Pippin said in a small voice, hopeful that that would slightly compensate for that faux pas earlier.
"Well, someone has to return this to the Steward, either way," Faramir said indicating the Horn. "Mithrandir, what was the promise he made my grandfather? I feel as if I may well need it." Faramir stood and thanked Gandalf for everything, walking toward the door.
"Where do you intend to go?" Gandalf asked.
"To the Steward. I should rather die sooner than later," Faramir said with a weak smile.
Gandalf laughed shortly. "No, I think not, Faramir. Tonight you rest here. Tomorrow you may go to the Steward."
"Gandalf, I doubt it is acceptable for a Captain to delay in reporting. I have already delayed enough," Faramir said.
Gandalf rolled his eyes. "You are every bit as argumentative as your father, headstrong as him too. Comes from being raised by Elrond, I am sure. You three are the only ones who ever give me such cheek. Now, the point, Faramir, is that you are not Denethor's man, is that not true?"
"Of course, Gandalf, you know well -"
"Finally! Someone finally acknowledges that I know well! Since you say so, why not just stay here and rest tonight?"
Faramir nearly smiled and let Gandalf win, but his expression grew sad as he said, "I do not think I shall have any rest this night. Not until I know of Boromir's fate."
"Well," Gandalf said, pouring another glass of cordial, "have a bit more of this and then we shall see, fair enough?"
The next morning Faramir did not wake until past sunrise, or at least, the time when the sun should have risen, had it not been obscured by the pervasive darkness of Mordor. That morning after what he considered might be his last fast breaking, he went to the Hall of Kings, where he intended to wait until after Pippin had formally declared fealty before he dealt with the Steward himself. It was not going to be an enjoyable day.
Faramir stood off to the side as Pippin, nervous showing in every breath, recited an oath of fealty and service to Gondor. Faramir could not help but think it rather sad, when he was young he had stood side-by-side with his father to protect these innocent people, yet here was one of the most innocent swearing his life in front of a Lord of questionable stability. What was plain to Faramir, however, was that when Pippin swore an oath to Gondor, he meant Aragorn's Gondor, what would be when there was a King again; he just had to tough it out for a little while longer with this Steward.
Denethor seemed highly amused by this new person. The smile he wore was one few had seen in that it was not in the least sneering, but genuinely entertained. Faramir's own expression was grim and not in the least amused. He saw very clearly that the Steward looked upon Pippin as a novelty, more of a jester than aught else. He practically expected to hear the Steward suggest to one of his advisors that they get more of these "little people." Oh, he would retain his service though and expect that Pippin would fight and die for his Lord if it came to that. Denethor, Faramir thought, no longer had any concept of innocence. Others present, the Steward's servants, thought it a marvel that someone so small could uplift their poor, downtrodden Lord with such ease.
Faramir thought he would be sick when Pippin laid his lips to the Ring of the House of Húrin and Denethor actually patted his head. Based on what Boromir had spoken about his childhood, how he had not seen his father from the time he was six years of age until his 20th year, it looked to Faramir that this little ceremony was a way for Denethor to attempt to get back the time he missed with his son. It was sad in a way, but when one considered that Denethor had never so much as written to his wife and child… well, even Faramir's pity had its limits.
"Now," Denethor said, ceremony complete, "why do you not get yourself to the buttery with your company, Master Hobbit? I understand that Halfling's have quite an appetite."
Pippin nodded and, in a voice one had to strain to hear, said, "yes, my Lord," before bowing and walking away. Faramir could not help but think that on this day the little Hobbit was not even slightly hungry. As he stepped forward before the Steward, Denethor's amused smile vanished. For several long moments they were at a impasse, Faramir refused to kneel and Denethor refused to acknowledge him.
"This is absurd," Faramir said at length. "I meant to return this to my brother, yet now I shall have to return it to you." Faramir extended the broken Horn toward the Steward, not really wanting actually to get near him.
"So the deserter has decided to return?" Denethor sneered. "A pity my son never married, his wife could have carried your bastard child, too. Like father, like son."
"If you compare me to my father, I take it as the highest compliment I may achieve, though I do not believe the adage myself. Surely it does not apply to you and Boromir." Faramir kept his tone civil, if not entirely respectful. "However, when you speak of Boromir, I do not think that -"
"No, you will not tell me how to speak of my son! Did you think that I would be the last to learn of his death? Did you not think that when I heard that distant horn calling I would immediately go to the… ah, but you would like me to tell you all about that wouldn't you?"
"No, actually," Faramir said, "I am not that interested, and likely I know more of it than you do anyway. For instance, are you aware, Denethor, that when one accesses a palantír for the purpose of seeing the mind of another, that other can also see one's mind? Furthermore, if the other is strong and skilled, one's mind and will can in fact be altered by the other over time."
Denethor took on a very fey appearance, never before had anyone, not even those who knew, Gandalf included, dared to confront him with his use of the palantír. For a moment, Denethor looked deadly, but Faramir did not stand down, even as Denethor seemed ready to destroy him with his glare. Suddenly, though, his demeanor calmed, as if he was steeling himself. "Regroup your men and have them ready to ride to retake Osgiliath by noon."
Faramir laughed in disbelief. "You want a handful of Rangers to retake that city?"
"No," Denethor said, "I want a handful of Rangers, as well as my son's soldiers to retake that city."
"Then call upon Boromir's second-in-command. In case you have forgotten, I am no longer in your service," Faramir said, turning to walk away.
"If I could do that I would have already. However, even I can not bypass the last written word of my son," Denethor said in a very bitter tone.
"What do you mean?" Faramir asked cautiously.
"I mean this," Denethor spat, holding forth a parchment.
Faramir took it and read it through, his eyes growing wide. "He can not mean this, though… I can not be…."
"I assure you, I agree most vehemently," Denethor said in disgust. "However, this document is lawful and invulnerable, and even I am powerless to change it or find a way around it. It galls me more than any other slight I have taken. Take it and leave to prepare your troops, Captain-General."
Faramir turned and left without a word. He returned immediately to Gandalf's quarters to seek his counsel. Faramir said nothing but handed the parchment to Gandalf, the elderly Wizard perusing it for a few moments. "Boromir's last will and testament…," Gandalf glanced up at Faramir, "Boromir's heir, eh?"
Faramir walked over to the window looking out over the Pelennor to Osgiliath. "It's dated July 3, the day before we set out for Imladris. I can not be, Mithrandir... He wants me to lead Boromir's men and mine to Osgiliath, the place is overrun with orcs, but he wants us to retake it." Faramir cradled his head in his hand. "How can I be the heir to the Stewardship?"
ooo
linda: Enough twists yet:)
steelelf: No, Boromir hasn't got the Ring still. Even i couldn't write myself out of that situation!
Elenhin: In all likelihood, Boromir will be found in the next chapter. Until then, you can keep on looking for him and you can certainly give him a hug if you find him!