Imrahil and Gandalf were about to leave the two brothers to their sleep when Gandalf had a moment of recollection. "You'll excuse me for a moment, Imrahil, I wanted to have a word with a friend," Gandalf said, going back into the chamber and leaning out the window where Carach was perched. "Oh, Faramir," he said turning, "you wouldn't mind accompanying your uncle up to the Citadel, would you?"
"Of course not, Mithrandir," Faramir said, glad for an excuse to get out of the Houses. He hoped to sleep in a proper bed that night, although it would mean leaving his half-brother on his own. Faramir glanced at Boromir in question.
"Go," Boromir said, sounding like he didn't care who went where as long as they let him rest. "I intend to get some sleep tonight and tomorrow I am returning to my own chambers, regardless of what anyone has to say about it."
"Naturally," Faramir said, by now immune to his brother's ranting.
A while longer Gandalf spent with his head out the window discussing something with the large black crow that had been sleeping peacefully. Boromir watched this strangeness for a moment before shaking his head and turning over to go back to sleep.
"How are you feeling, Boromir?" Gandalf asked, looking more like he was still talking to the crow.
"Tired," Boromir muttered, hoping that was just an attempt at sociability by the wizard and that he'd take the hint and let him alone.
Gandalf chuckled rather humorlessly, now turning away from the crow, and said, "Lad, we are all tired. It might be said that you have had more rest than any of us at this point. I want to know what you are feeling."
Boromir now turned as well to face the wizard. "What I am feeling about what?"
"About Aragorn's claim, about your half-brother's position in the city, about your own position… about your father's death."
Boromir half shrugged. "What I feel? I don't really feel anything." His expression belied that though with a look of determination that he should not feel anything, lest he fall back into that helplessly weak state of emotion he had been in before. "I would sooner have a King than not, and if he is not from Anarion's line, his brother's line is good enough for me. I would be very happy if Faramir could stay Steward and I could stay in command of the military. And my father is dead - how he died, when, where, if he was buried or burned or is carrion on the Pelennor yet for that crow, I know not and so I have nothing to feel about it. I suppose none know, so often it happens in battle that someone becomes so maimed that no one recognizes the corpse until an identifying sigil is turned up from the ashes of the dead."
Gandalf raised his brow momentarily, Boromir's choice of words was interesting to him. "There are those who know, Boromir. Five of us were there and saw."
"I had heard that the House of the Stewards collapsed during the battle, but it was my hope that it would be rebuilt and that my father should in some way be remembered there, if he can not rest there himself." Boromir was quiet for a moment. "He gave the best of himself to the Stewardship."
"I think that you are correct in that," Gandalf mused. "Although there is not a need for any sort of cenotaph at the House of the Stewards."
Boromir gave Gandalf a look as if to ask just why he thought his father shouldn't be remembered amongst all the other Stewards. His need to know what had happened to his father won out though. "You say you saw his fall?" Boromir said, sounding cautious.
"Yes, I did, Boromir. Tell me, you recollect nothing from the time that Faramir found you at Osgiliath until you wakened in your own chambers?"
"Nothing," Boromir said, unable to believe that Gandalf seemingly decided to skip right over his father's demise.
"Well, then, I think that there is much for me to explain." Gandalf made himself comfortable once again and took up his pipe, lighting it this time. "As I understand it, Faramir was trying to get you and the rest of his men back here to the City when it was clear that there would be no proving anything at Osgiliath. You had fallen unconscious and he had taken up on the same horse, but was knocked off when hit by a fell arrow. Meanwhile, Imrahil's troops were taking the field and trying to hold off the enemy forces. Imrahil shouted for Eldor to get the horse with it's unconscious rider back to the City as he himself went to help Faramir. Eldor himself was hit in the process and when he reached the gates, no one ever bothered to find out who was the insensible one, they just sent you both to the Houses.
"Now, Imrahil, instead of taking Faramir to the Houses as well, went to the Citadel with him. As he has told me, he hoped that Denethor would see reason if he saw what had happened to Faramir. It surprises me that Imrahil had that much faith in him, but clearly he has always wanted to know his sister's second-born and thought it natural that Denethor would as well. Denethor seemed to be distraught over Faramir and took him into the Tower himself, whereupon he quickly locked himself in and refused to come out or so much as speak to anyone else. Imrahil was irate, but he felt that he had to trust that Denethor would get Faramir the help he needed. Evidently he did not know how far from reason Denethor was by then."
Boromir was looking troubled by the way Gandalf spoke of Denethor's madness, and the wizard tried to be less blunt about the way he was putting things, but it was rather difficult to sugarcoat the facts and still explain the truth.
"It was before dawn when Denethor finally emerged from the Tower and had guards take up Faramir's body. When Pippin saw them, they were going toward Rath Dinen, which I had pointed out to him when we first arrived."
"Rath Dinen?" Boromir cut in. "Why would father go there? Did he think to shelter Faramir there?"
"You must understand, Boromir, I do not believe that your father really understood that it was Faramir by that point. I am certain that he believed it was you who he was bearing away and he… well, as I was saying, that was when Pippin came to find me in the middle of fighting off the spawn of Mordor. I might as well tell you this now, as Aragorn will have to sit in judgment of this matter when he returns here, but the Keeper of the Keys was slain at his post and when we came to the Hallows we found two guards dead and two more bearing torches being kept away from Faramir by Beregond."
"Beregond?" Boromir asked in pure surprise. Beregond was one of the most singularly loyal men Boromir had ever encountered.
Gandalf simply nodded and continued. "Denethor emerged from the House of the Stewards… he and I had a discussion and I myself lifted Faramir from the pyre built within the House."
"Pyre?" Boromir whispered fearfully.
"Boromir, he said over and over that it was his wish that he and his 'son' go into death together. He was no longer himself by then."
"He would have burnt Faramir alive…. But why did he go there? My father was a warrior and he would have stood -"
"Just as I encouraged him to do. But that was when he brought forth a palantir. I knew then that there was no going back for him. Just the way he laughed when he held the orb… I could see that Sauron had gained quite a lot of access to Minas Tirith long before any orcs breached the Gates. Denethor would have advised everyone to flee from the fight, to abandon Minas Tirith to Mordor. That was the work of Sauron."
Boromir shuddered, remembering what his father had shown him just before he and Faramir set out for Rivendell. It had left Boromir in a terrible state, just for looking upon the thing once, and it was the same feeling that overtook him when the Ring had been too persistent. To think of his father having used the thing for so many years, Boromir understood well how his father's senses were not wholly his own.
"When Beregond blocked him from striking at Faramir with a dagger, he commanded his guards to bring the fire to him and he put himself upon the pyre." Boromir's eyes displayed no reaction, clearly expecting more information. "That was when I bid Beregond to take up Faramir and we rushed to the Houses. We heard the House collapse behind us and the guards who had initially remained fled to us."
For a very long while Boromir laid still, an unnatural stillness meant to display calm, but in truth betraying his shaken-ness to the trained observer. Gandalf knew enough not to disturb the silence just yet, Boromir needed the moment to be within himself.
Finally, with a very soft, somewhat ragged exhale of breath, Boromir spoke. "Then he planned to take his own life, to flee from the danger and leave everyone else to -" Anger rose up swiftly in the Gondorian and he swore violently, not bothering to keep his voice low anymore. "The coward!" he cried in ire.
"You must understand, Boromir, using the palantír too often, with Sauron at the other end, robbed your father of his -"
"Do not call him that in my presence any longer! Who is to know if he was really mad at all? If, as you say, he thought Fara' was me, and yet he knew the body was living, is it not just as terrible that he would have incinerated me, even if that was his madness? Or if he was not mad, that he would have killed my little brother in cold blood, because was that not he wanted when he would leave those Rangers out there without any sort of connection to home for months on end? Tell me he hasn't wanted Fara' dead since the day of his birth, tell me that had it not been for Aragorn having enough courage to take my little brother away from here…. Let us not endeavor to rebuild the House of the Stewards, let him rot in the rubble of his own destruction for all time. Please it the gods that I NEVER am like that orc of a man!"
Gandalf did not respond.
When Boromir spoke again he was quiet and sounded exhausted. "Was he ever a good, sound man, Mithrandir? Were those first five years of my life the exception?"
"No, Boromir, for many years Denethor was not what he had become in the end," Gandalf assured. "I am truly sorry to have had to bring you these tidings, I know that there are those who believe I never come with aught but bad news. I do not refute that, it has been so for a long time now that there has been much more bad news than good in Middle-earth. Perhaps such is my doom, for I would choose to herald joys much sooner." The wizard stopped his contemplative rant when he saw how Boromir's eyes had begun to glisten.
"Can you tell me of one good thing he ever did?" Boromir whispered.
Gandalf sighed. "I think that Denethor would have done many good things, but I think that many of his good intentions were twisted in the end to Sauron's will. Unfortunately I did not know the former Steward closely enough to know his heart in many things, but I did know this much: he loved his son fiercely, even when he felt duty-bound not to show it and even despite the sway of the palantír."
"I hope Faramir knows how fortunate he is," Boromir muttered, "to have a real father."
Gandalf said nothing, but handed Boromir a flask.
"Miruvor? I doubt even this draught can warm my heart right now," Boromir said miserably, though he did not refuse a mouthful. Though he was resigned to spending the night awake, mulling over all this new information, the drink worked with speed and soon Boromir was asleep, and untroubled.