Boromir's Journey Amon Hen to Minas Tirith

CHAPTER FOUR – FARAMIR AND THE RING

Faramir pulled the bowstring taut and let the arrow fly. His aim was true, the bolt thudding into the Nazgul’s throat. It screamed and climbed higher, wheeled away from the rampart, giant wings carrying it rapidly from the ruined city across the river toward the east. Faramir looked down to see that Frodo was falling, dragged down by Sam’s timely arrival. The little gardener had prevented Frodo putting on The Ring, and saved them all. Tangled together, the two hobbits fell, Sam’s pots and pans clattering as he bounced and rolled from stone step to step. They came to a thudding halt at the bottom, slammed into the flagstones at the foot of the stairs. Faramir took a pace toward them, then froze in horror as he saw Frodo draw his sword and leap at the fallen Sam. “No!” he cried, but he doubted that even had Frodo heard him, he could have responded. For The Ring still had him in its treacherous grasp.

The sword tip pressed at Sam’s throat. Faramir moaned and closed his eyes. “It’s me! It’s your Sam!” he heard the anguished cry. He opened his eyes to see that although Frodo had not driven the blade home, its bright point still rested against Sam’s flesh. “Don’t you know your Sam?”

In the sudden silence, Faramir clearly heard Frodo’s gasping breath, his strangled cry of utter horror. Sanity returned, Frodo found himself within an inch of killing his dearest friend. Eyes wide with shock, gasping for air, Frodo fell back, opened his hand. The sword dropped to the stones and clanged loudly in the sudden silence. “I can’t do this any more, Sam,” Frodo said, completely broken, defeated. Sam staggered to his feet. He regarded his friend for a moment, tears in his eyes, then turned away to watch the Nazgul as it disappeared further to the east, huge dark wings moving against the red murk of Mordor. “I know,” Sam said, “It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here.”

Faramir flinched. How much had these two already suffered, and how much had he added to their burden? I see now, he thought grimly, this is the madness, the evil The Ring would bring to us all. Friend against friend. Allies giving hindrance rather than aid. Just as Sam had said of Boromir: ‘The Ring drove your brother mad ‘ Sharp grief tore at Faramir’s heart and he sobbed, “Boromir!” He could not bear to think of it, his loyal brother driven to insane rage by The Ring. Had he died like that? Or had sanity returned only to leave Boromir to die alone, aware of his failure, believing himself dishonoured? Faramir lifted a gloved hand to wipe the tears from his face, and the White Tree of Gondor flashed before his eyes, catching the frail afternoon light. The beloved emblem replaced the grim image and gave rise to another, clearer memory. After Boromir’s cloven horn had come to him and he feared the worst, Faramir had seen in a dream his brother lying asleep, deeply at peace, surrounded by warm firelight, green boughs and the soft hiss of rain. Which was true?

Words came to him, Sam’s voice, speaking to Frodo, and piercing the gloom of sorrowful thought, “Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines, it will shine out the clearer.” Listening, Faramir found Sam’s simple eloquence and truth a balm that soothed away the nightmare of moments before “But I think Mr. Frodo, I do understand, I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going because they were holding onto something.”

“What are we holding onto Sam?”

Frodo’s broken plea held Faramir enthralled. This was the question, the one that forever rang in all their minds. What was the answer? It seemed the very day itself, bruised and torn, awaited Sam’s words.

Tears streaking his bruised and dirty face, Sam turned back to his equally grief-stricken friend. He pulled Frodo to his feet, and said with utter conviction, “That there’s some good left in this world, and it’s worth fighting for!”

Yes! Faramir saw hope and purpose returned by the basic, unvarnished truth, undeniable and compelling in the clarity of its wisdom. The loyalty and love that bound them all, brothers, friends, families – that was certainly a good worth fighting for. What have I done? The realisation came to Faramir as if he were waking only now from a dark dream. Why have I brought these two far from their quest? What deceit has the Ring fed to me? It should not have come here! How could I have been so cold? Desiring my father’s praise at any cost!

Faramir moved, took a step toward them, and saw the hobbits flinch and brace themselves. They were fearful of his will to hold them imprisoned. To see two small, brave hobbits backing away from him with open suspicion, drove home the depth of his error. He stopped, went down on one knee, and looked intently into Frodo’s anxious eyes. “I think at last we understand one another better, Frodo Baggins.” Faramir looked up to his Second in Command and the guards who had gathered to resume the task he had assigned – to take the prisoners and The Ring to his father. He could have chosen no worse a fate for Gondor. “Release them,” he changed the order and was immediately rewarded by the light of relief that dawned in Frodo’s so very weary eyes.

“You know the laws of our country. The laws of your father,” the elderly second in command advised at Faramir’s shoulder as he got to his feet, “If you let them go, your life will be forfeit.”

“Then, it is forfeit,” Faramir said, sorrowful, but no less sure of the rightness of what he did. “Release them,” he repeated, and saw Sam push the guard’s hand from his shoulder. “Come,” he said to the hobbits, “The old sewer runs under the river, and will bring you out under cover of the woods.” He waved an arm toward an arched roof above the nearest drain. Frodo and Sam hurried forward and Gollum followed. Inside, alone with them, Faramir asked Frodo, “What road will you take when you reach the woods?”

“Gollum says there’s a path near Minas Morgul.”

Faramir stiffened in suspicion and fear. He turned, took Gollum by the throat, snarled, “Cirith Ungol? Is that what it is called?”

“No! No!” The creature said, then as Faramir’s fist tightened, Gollum admitted, “Yes!”

Faramir threw the wasted, foul smelling creature from him in disgust, and warned Frodo sharply, “They say a dark terror dwells above Minas Morgul. You cannot take that path.””

But it seemed Frodo had no other choice. Sadly, Faramir nodded, but warned again, “Be wary.”

The two hobbits moved toward the sewer mouth. As Gollum tried to follow, Faramir caught hold of him once more and threatened, “If you lead them to harm, may death find you quickly!” He flung the creature from him again and Gollum scurried away, hurrying by Sam who had turned back. Faramir looked inquiringly at the little gardener who was regarding him intently. “You have shown your quality, Captain Faramir, sir,” Sam said sincerely. “The very highest. Just like your brother. I am sorry for what I said about him. I was wrong. He swore he’d let us go, too. Just now.”

Faramir thought he had misheard. “Just now?” he repeated hollowly, feeling afresh the sharp ache of raw grief. Frodo turned quickly about and stared at his friend in puzzlement.

“Oh, you fool Samwise!” the hobbit exclaimed. “I can’t believe I forgot—but with the Nazgul and all… Boromir! He’s alive! He’s here— I was just talking to him.“

“What?” Faramir said faintly, the awful hope staggered him. He flung out a hand in support against the stone wall, lest he fall.

“Boromir is alive?” Frodo asked.

“Yes!” Sam said. “I should have told you right away. He’s waiting out there, on the other side of the square with the big statue, under the colonnade. He’s wounded. I don’t know how he got here exactly, he said something about Gimli helping him.” Then Sam groaned and clutched at his head before turning to Frodo. “And there’s more, Mr. Frodo, Boromir told me about Merry and Pippin… Only, I don’t want to say it.”

Frodo said fearfully. “Don’t tell me they’re dead. I couldn’t bear it, Sam.”

“No, they’re not dead! Well, at least, Boromir says --.”

Faramir could wait no longer; “I must go to my brother!” he interrupted, already moving out of the tunnel toward the daylight. “Remember—be wary of Cirith Ungol!"