Chapter IX – When I Die
When Faramir wrenched open his eyes, it was dark. For a moment he believed that he had died. At least, he must be dying. He expected to wake up and find himself lying in pools of his own dark blood, with the dead faces peering ghost-like from the shadows. But he could hear the unmistakable sound of his own thudding heart in his chest, and the dripping splashes of blood were nowhere to be found. Was this a dream or reality? How was there any way to know?
A figure that he recognized sat beside the bed, covered by a thin blanket, snoring quietly. It was his cousin, Elphir. He could see the weariness that lined Elphir's face, and sadness welled in his eyes. Faramir lurched towards him hesitantly, fearing that Elphir, too, would soon become just another pair of eyes fading off into the distance as he watched in agony. Faramir's fingers touched real flesh on real bone on a real Elphir. He stirred but did not wake.
Such grief… It choked him, suffocated him, smothered him in a pain so complete that all else seemed to be a mere shimmering reflection of the agony that dwelt like a hard knot in his chest. He could not breathe for the pain that constricted his very lungs. This was reality. Pain was reality.
Éowyn…
Faramir turned his bleak eyes towards the wooden door at one end of the room that led to the staircase, then towards the glass door at the other end of the room that led to the Tower balcony. Pale and cold, Faramir pulled himself out from under his coverlets and stepped frailly towards the glass door. He pulled up the silver latch, and the doors swung open with a gentle nudge. It was snowing; the balcony was coated with a thin dusting of white. Faramir shivered. The wind whipped mercilessly against his skin, but Faramir barely flinched at its icy sting. His gaze drifted down to look at the Citadel below.
It was a long drop.
It had always been such a long drop…
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"Can't catch me!" Faramir shrieked, darted about his room and squealing every time Boromir came close to grabbing him. Finduilas laughed weakly to see her two boys running about and making a mess of things. The laugh did not reach her eyes. Denethor would be in to scold them later.
When he ran out of places in the room to run to, Faramir leapt through the open glass door onto the balcony where he evaded Boromir for a while longer.
"Come on, you little—!" Boromir laughed. Finally, he caught his little brother and strained to pick him up in his arms. Faramir screamed in delight as Boromir tickled him, and he writhed in fits of giggles.
Finduilas hurried out onto behind them. "Boys, not on the balcony!" she cried. A moment later, though, a flash of red and orange lit the sky, and from hundreds of leagues away they could see Orodruin bursting into flame beyond the Ephel Dûath. Finduilas' face became grey and drawn, and her reprimand fell silently from her lips as fear consumed her.
Boromir struggled to lift Faramir onto the balcony railing so that he could see what Finduilas was staring at, but it was more difficult than he expected. "You're heavy!" Boromir complained as Faramir tottered on the railing. Instead of looking out at the Mountain of Fire, Faramir's eyes were fixed on the Citadel a hundred feet beneath them.
"Boromir, let me down!" Faramir screeched, tears gathering in his eyes as his head tipped dizzily. His fear was enough to startle Finduilas out of her trance, and she snatched Faramir from the balcony just as he teetered forward. Weeping, she drew him in close to her bosom and kissed him and held him and apologized again and again, and Faramir did not know enough to understand the pain in her eyes, the haunted shadows that lingered from troubled dreams…
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Faramir stood at the balcony, staring unhappily at the distant city of Osgiliath. He was thirteen now. His mother was long dead, and his father had just enlisted him in the Army of Gondor. A knock came at the door of his room, but he was hesitant to answer it. He knew that it would be his father, come to lecture him about his duty to Gondor and to his Lord Steward.
"Faramir! Open this door!"
Yes, it was Denethor's voice. Faramir frowned, hesitating a second too long. He heard the jingle of keys outside the door, and Denethor burst in with rage burning on his face. Faramir was startled and backed against the rail. Had he done anything wrong besides pausing before the opening the door for his father?
"You're late!" snarled Denethor. "You'd like to think that you're clever, wouldn't you? Wouldn't you!" He strode to the balcony and seized his young son, holding him so that Faramir was half-hanging over the railing. Faramir cried out fearfully, but Denethor pushed him closer to the edge. "You are a man! It is time you start acting like one! Your days of weakness and excuses are over! No—more—excuses!" With each word, Denethor shook his son by the shoulders, still dangling him dangerous close to the brink of the balcony. Faramir knew that he would never been let down if he cried, so he stifled his tears and managed a terrified nod.
"Yes, sir. I understand, sir. No more excuses, sir."
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Faramir sat with his knees tucked under his chin, a safe distance away from the balcony railing, staring at the cracks in the stone. Boromir leaned casually against the railing, picking his teeth with a leftover bone from dinner. Faramir had no way of knowing that this was the last time he would see Boromir alive.
"You know I have to go," said Boromir gently. "It is a ridiculous quest all around, but…" He shrugged helplessly. "In any case, it is not for us to decide. Father believes this…this 'weapon' will help Gondor…" A nonchalant smile graced his face. "I'm sure it's naught but rumors, Faramir. I shall return quickly. I cross my heart and hope to die."
Faramir shivered. "Do not say such things."
"Come, Faramir, it was only in jest!"
"Even in jest do not say it!" cried Faramir. "You have never been so far from home! Neither of us has! I wish that it was I going and not you. Then at least my heart would be at peace."
"Why should it not be? It is no different from any other trip."
Faramir shook his head and fell silent. How could he possibly explain the warning in his heart, the desperate alarm that haunted his dreams? Even now as they sat safely upon a balcony, Faramir felt a wrenching twist in his gut, like the feeling he would have if he leapt off the side of the balcony and fell in freefall the hundred feet to the Citadel. How could he explain that somehow he knew that this trip would not be like any other Boromir had ever undertaken?
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Dressed for battle, Faramir stood once more upon the balcony, listening to the dying echo of fear that rang through the Citadel. In Osgiliath far away he could almost feel the machinations of the orcs as they ground metal, twisted metal, tortured metal. They were waiting for him. He closed his eyes. There was no fear. There was only what was necessary.
A presence entered the room behind him, and Faramir knew without looking who it was.
"Have you not told me that you are afraid of heights?" Mithrandir asked softly. Faramir turned and stepped away from the railing.
"I am," he answered quietly. "Yet if I cannot master this fear, how can I expect to lead my men without fear?" His eyes hardened. "They must see me without fear, or all will be lost."
"Faramir…" Mithrandir laid a hand on Faramir's shoulder. Faramir could not bear to meet his eyes, knowing that it could be the last time he looked into them. "If you choose to do this, all will be lost no matter whether you show fear or bravery."
"It is not my choice, Mithrandir. It is only my duty."
"It is suicide. There are a dozen other captains in the Lord Denethor's council. Why must it be you?"
"Have you not heard?" His tone was bitter. "I must do the duty of two now, for myself and for the one who will not return." The pained shadow in Faramir's voice caused Mithrandir to tighten his clasp on Faramir's shoulder.
"Truly, Faramir, I wish to hear your answer, not your father's. What do you believe?"
"It must be me because he knows that I have no fear." Faramir turned his eyes back to the long drop before him. He rested one hand against the railing. "He knows that I would leap from this balcony for him." His empty laugh was full of regret. "It must be me." Both of them were silent for many long minutes, both staring blankly out towards the Mountains of Shadow and the Dark Land which lay beyond. Finally it was Faramir who broke the silence.
"When I die, you will remember me, won't you?"
Mithrandir watched him for a moment and answered calmly, "How can I remember a man who forgets to remember himself?"
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The frigid air caught painfully in Faramir's lungs, and his parted his lips to make breathing easier. His insides felt frozen with ice, but he was not sure it had anything to do with the snow. "Oh, Eru…" His eyes fluttered closed as he remembered his fear of heights, stumbled backwards a step away from the railing. He felt raindrop-sized tears gather, on the verge of spilling over. His face was flushed red with fever, making the pinprick touch of the snowflakes feel even colder as they landed on his skin. He coughed harshly and looked off into the distance, towards the Land of Shadows.
"Mithrandir…" he whispered, as if in prayer. "How can I remember myself when I have lost all that made me what I am?" He looked out at the world through phantom eyes, empty of all emotion but pain. "The Black Breath once nearly shrouded my heart in darkness. Look! Orodruin is dead! Barad-dûr lies in ruins! Yet the Darkness endures! I stand upon the brink…!" Unable to look out at the sight that plagued all of his worst memories, Faramir bowed his head.
"Thou shalt kill me yet, Éowyn. Thou shalt kill me yet…"