Gandalf had not seen Faramir after he awakened from his desperate fever. The day after the siege Gandalf spent almost entirely with Aragorn and the other captains to plan their march to Mordor. He hardly had time to go to the Houses of Healing. But in truth he deliberately avoided going there. For the tale of Denethor's end must be told, and the one who must speak needs as much time to find his words as the one who must listen needs to regain his strength.

Gandalf had decided that he should be the one to recount to Faramir the tale of his father's end, for he would not burden Pippin with such dreadful task. And he would not have Faramir heard of his father's madness from unwise whispers, which seemed to have spread in the City with magnificent speed. The dreadful task that he had proposed to himself almost at once, he took longer time to accomplish. He had had to dig deep into the pool of his wisdom before he could decide how he should speak to Faramir. Even then he was still not sure whether there was not a better way to let Faramir know. But he could not delay this task any longer. Soon he would have to depart with the Host, and who can tell whether he would return?

So it was in the afternoon of the second day after the siege that Gandalf came to see Faramir. In the morning he had seen the decree that Faramir issued. It was an open letter to all soldiers of Gondor, exhorting them to follow the command of the Prince Imrahil, as he acted with full consent of the Steward. Faramir did not command any soldier to march to Mordor, he simply said that "in this grave days, to stay in defence of Minas Tirith and to march to Mordor are equally courageous and noble. The Steward calls every son of Gondor to do his duty, whichever is assigned to him."

Gandalf noted with satisfaction that no other Steward, save perhaps Mardil Voronwë, started their reign with a more decisive act. And with some relief he noted that if Faramir was strong enough to issue such decree, he would probably be strong enough to listen to Gandalf's story. To his further relief, Gandalf found from the Warden of the Houses of Healing that Faramir condition had improved fast. That morning the Warden had let him left his bed, though he was not to walk outside his room yet.

Gandalf found Faramir sitting on his bed, with some cushions propped up behind his back. As Gandalf entered the room, Faramir turned from the parchment he was reading. His face was pale yet not without vigour.

"It is good to see you recovering fast, Faramir," Gandalf said as he sat on the chair beside the bed. "What are you reading?"

"A report from Imrahil concerning the army of Gondor that he will bring to the Dark Land," replied Faramir. "I believe you will go with them?"

Gandalf nodded. "I have to finish my labour," he said simply.

"For a moment I hoped that you will stay here," said Faramir. "I would be more than glad to have you should we have to make a last stand. But I know that the Host has more needs of you. With you leading them, one cannot call it a hopeless battle." He smiled grimly.

Gandalf returned the smile. "Even with my leading them it is still a foolish venture. But perhaps we may learn that foolishness can serve a great purpose."

"It is good that you come here," said Faramir, "otherwise I would not be able to bid you farewell. But am I right that you come not only for this, Mithrandir?"

"You are right, as you so often are. I come to tell you about your father's death."

There was no change in Faramir's expression. He said calmly, "I am ready to listen."

Gandalf spoke, "When you were brought to the City, you were wounded and under the ill-spell of the Shadow. For one whole day and one whole night you lay silent and did not wake once. You burnt with a terrible fever. Words spread in the City that you were dying. Men wept upon hearing this, but no one was more devastated than your father."

Faramir did not say a word.

"He succumbed to despair. He was sure that his son would soon die. He was sure that his city would soon fall. He could not bear these. In his despair he decided to end his life."

Faramir stared at Gandalf with great dismay. But still he said not a word.

Gandalf stopped for a moment. But after a sigh he said what he must. "He went to his death through a pyre he set for himself in the House of the Steward."

"A pyre?" Faramir let out a cry. "Even if the Lord of Gondor had chosen to end his life, what he might have done is throwing himself recklessly in battle. Why the fire?"

"His despair clouded his mind, Faramir. Why the fire, you asked. I know not the answer, perhaps no one does but your late father. But if I may guess from what Peregrin told me – the Halfling was with him for the whole of that terrible day – if I may guess, he thought of the fire because he was told that the first circle is burning, and more importantly, because you were burning with terrible fever. Your father seemed to think that since the City would soon be burnt and we all would soon be dead, it was better to decide for himself the way he should die, and with whom he would die. He chose to die with his son, and as his son was burning, he decided that he too should seek the fire."

"He wished to accompany me on my last journey?" Faramir said sadly. "But why should have my death dragged him into despair? When he commanded me to go, he knew that there was hardly a hope of my return."

"Do we not all make such mistakes from time to time?" answered Gandalf. "We think lightly of some things, until the consequences hit us with deadly blows. Yes, he knew that when he commanded you to go. What he did not know, or rather, what he forgot, was what blow your death would be to him.

"His parting with you brought him much grief. Let me repeat to you his words, as Peregrin told me, 'I sent my son, unthanked, unblessed, out into needless peril, and here he lies dying.' Your father loved you, Faramir, and he remembered it."

"Ere the end," Faramir finished Gandalf's words. "But should I take it as a comfort that his love for me made him despair?"

"It is not his love for you that made him despair. I think what made him despair was the sight of you lying still before him, for it suddenly reminded him of that love, and reproved him that he may have for some time forgotten that love."

After a moment silence, Faramir spoke again. "Have you told me all? Are there still more grievous things that I should know?"

Reluctantly Gandalf said, "I have to tell you one more thing, lest you hear it from perverted whispers. Your father wished that you and he should meet death side by side. He had a pyre set for you also."

Faramir lowered his head. He spoke softly and slowly, "And how is it that I am alive and he is dead?"

"It was Beregond and Peregrin who stayed your father's command. Peregrin alerted me about this madness and we brought you out of the House of the Stewards. But we failed to save your father."

There was a long silence. Presently Faramir said, "I thank you for recounting this to me openly, and not covering it with false comforts."

Gandalf answered, "You are a brave son of Númenor, Faramir, of the great line of Húrin and Mardil. You are strong enough and wise enough to bear the truth of any story."

For some time there was no sound save that of the pouring rain outside the window.

"Was there ... any remains of him?" asked Faramir.

No one else had asked Gandalf that before. Gandalf himself had not thought about it. He knew that the Warden of the Keys had commanded the quenching of the fire, but he did not know what they found inside the burnt house of tombs. He resolved to find Húrin once he leave Faramir's room. The prospect of Faramir groping in the wreckage to gather his father's ashes made his heart sink.

"I do not know, Faramir," he finally answered, "Húrin of the Keys saw to it that the House was cleared. I will ask him to report to you. Trouble not yourself with this matter, at least until you are well."

"Thank you," said Faramir. Then suddenly he wept. Long he wept, now in words of lament, now in sad silence. In his lament he said these words many times: "They will not return to me, not even their bodies are returned to me."

Through this long and sad afternoon Gandalf sat by him and wept with him. The rain outside grew heavier.

Pippin opened the door slightly and slipped his head to look inward. "Lord Faramir?" he asked hesitantly, not sure if he should enter.

"Come in, Master Peregrin," said Faramir. There were traces of tears in his face but his voice was steady.

Pippin entered. "I bring you your supper, lord." He put the tray in the table near the bed. He looked at Faramir awkwardly. Finally he said, "You look better, lord."

"I am glad you think so, given that I was near death the last time you saw me," said Faramir. "And I have you to thank for my life."

"It is nothing compared to what I owe Boromir," said Pippin. Then he blushed as he realized that perhaps he should not have mentioned Boromir's name to his grieving brother. He stammered his apology, but Faramir raised his hand to stay him.

"It matters not. I grieve over my brother and father, and I am distressed, whether or not you mentioned them."

Pippin did not know what to say. He looked down at his feet. Then he looked up again to face Faramir and said earnestly, "I come to wait upon you, lord. I gave my oath to the Steward, the late Steward. Now that I can no longer serve him, I shall serve you, though only for tonight. Tomorrow I will go as a soldier of Gondor."

Faramir smiled faintly. Pippin suddenly remembered Denethor's smile when he accepted his service. He suddenly saw the likeness between father and son: their fair face, their kingly bearing, even their voice were alike. But when Faramir spoke, again Pippin understood their difference. "It is I who is in your service, Master Peregrin, for I am indebted to you. Even if I were not, I have yet to fully assume my duty and so cannot accept one's oath. But I would gladly accept your assistance as a friend."

Pippin bowed. "It is a great honour to be counted among the friends of a great lord like you."

Faramir said, "Come nearer and let us eat together."

Pippin set the tray on Faramir's lap. He sat on the chair near the bed. For a moment they ate in silence.

Faramir spoke again, "May I ask why you come to me only now? Were you assigned another duty by Mithrandir?"

"No, I did not have any duty yesterday. But Gandalf expressly forbade me to see you. He learnt from experience that I could not be trusted to hold my tongue," said Pippin.

For a moment Faramir looked bemused, then he remembered what Gandalf said. "So now that he had told me the sad tale, you are allowed to see me?"

Pippin nodded. Then to his shame he felt tears in his eyes. Sitting close to Faramir reminded him of the last time he attended Denethor.

"What distress you, Master Halfling?" asked Faramir.

"I suddenly remember the old Lord," said Pippin.

"Do you wish to tell me what you remember?"

Pippin looked at Faramir. He wished to talk with Faramir, but he did not want to distress this grave man further. "Will it not distress you, speaking of the Lord?"

"As I said, I would still be distressed, with or without speaking of him."

His calm voice and manner made Pippin bewildered. He knew Gandalf had just told Faramir about his father. How can one remain calm after hearing such news?

Pippin took a deep breath. "He suddenly looked old and frail," he began, "I cannot understand how that happened. One moment he was standing tall and proud, quarrelling with Gandalf, and the next moment he had to use a staff for walking."

Faramir frowned at this, but he said nothing. Pippin continued, "From the moment he saw you, the Lord no longer cared about anything else. He sat beside you for the whole night, and for the whole of the next day. He no longer cared of the defence of the City, or of anything else." Pippin wiped his tears. Remembering how the old man sat beside his dying son brought distress to him. Slowly Faramir reached for his hand and held it. Pippin was embarrassed. He came to offer some consolation to Faramir, instead he found himself being consoled.

"Did he not remember Boromir?" asked Faramir.

"Boromir?" Pippin said confusedly, "who mentioned anything about Boromir? The Lord Denethor, he seemed to remember nothing else but you."

"Oh, it was only my dream," said Faramir. "In my dream I saw Father, old and bent as you said …" For the first time Pippin saw Faramir lost his composure. Somehow it comforted him.

"I heard him lamenting that his son left him without a word," Faramir continued, "that is why I think he remembered Boromir. But not all that I see in my dream is true." Pippin looked at him with wonder. "Why, at least that part is all true," he exclaimed, "why do you think he stayed by your side all night and all day? 'I stay with my son. He may still speak before the end,' he said that several times."

This revelation startled Faramir. "Do you mean," he said warily, as if bracing himself for disappointment, "it was my word that he longed for?"

"Well, yes, of course," Pippin said, rather confusedly, "who else was dying before his eyes?"

"What else did he say, Peregrin?" asked Faramir. "Or better still, tell me what happened from the beginning." A teardrop flew slowly down his proud cheek. Gone was the composed Lord of Gondor. It was a beloved son mourning his deceased father who spoke to Pippin then.

Pippin smiled despite his grief. "This is better," he said. "I will tell you everything I remember. And call me Pippin, if that pleases you, lord." And so Pippin told Faramir how the proud Denethor lost his pride upon seeing the deathlike face of his younger son, how he held his fevered hand and refused to release it, how he lost his mind to his grief. But they did not talk of what happened in Rath Dinen. For Pippin could see that Gandalf had told Faramir briefly of it, and some things are better left unsaid and unthought of.

Finally it was time for Pippin to leave. "I hope I have not caused you greater sorrow?" he asked hesitantly.

"Your account brings me sorrow," said Faramir, "but it also brings consolation. And I have begun to learn that not all sorrows are evil."