ddd_news | APPLICATIONS -- 2010; 001

APPLICATIONS -- 2010; 001

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Personality: In many ways, Faramir is the opposite of his brother. Since childhood, his fondness for scholarly purists – such as the study of history and lore that Gandalf facilitated – have been in stark contrast to Boromir’s warrior persona. Although Faramir is skilled in battle – he is good with a sword and particularly skilled at archery – he doesn’t live for or love the fight in the same way that most warriors do. During the War of the Ring, he fought to defend Gondor rather than to earn glory. In fact, he doesn’t see anything noble or valiant in war, only unpleasant necessity.

As well as helping him to earn a reputation in Minas Tirith for being fair minded and just, the wisdom associated with being the intellectual of the family spilled over into other aspects of Faramir’s life. It influenced his ability to make swift decisions in battle and, according to details he revealed during conversations with Pippin, he was an imaginative child – another useful skill for a warrior. Apparently, he was a dreamer and spent a lot of his time chasing imaginary dragons. This creativity is partly responsible for his optimism. He genuinely believed in a better future for Middle-earth. He couldn’t bring himself to believe that the darkness hanging over the land would remain there forever. (He also demonstrated his good heart by befriending Pippin and having those conversations in the first place. Faramir did his best to make the hobbit’s life in the citadel pleasant, despite Denethor’s behaviour.)

Because he had Boromir to live up to, it was not easy for Faramir to prove his worth in battle when he joined the rangers. Once he’d earned it, however, his men responded to his bravery in battle and his willingness to risk his life for others with a fierce loyalty. In turn, Faramir was loyal to them, as well as to everyone else that he cares for. The idea of betraying his loved ones is abhorrent to him. He is loyal to his brother (and his memory), to his king and, even though Denethor didn’t return his loyalty or love, to his father. He risked his life to obey Denethor’s foolish orders and return to Osgiliath, after all. It was preferable to betraying his father and to leaving his men to face the enemy alone.

Growing up without any paternal love has obviously had a severe effect on him, but it would have been a lot worse if it hadn’t been for Boromir. Although it would have been easy for Faramir to be jealous of his brother, their father’s obvious favourite and the man he would always be in the shadow of, they ended up forging a bond of friendship and brotherly love instead. In fact, Faramir is frequently referred to as kind hearted. He simply didn’t have it in him to hate Boromir. He loved him unconditionally. (He even loved his father, despite everything.)

Additional Links: The Tolkien Wiki (http://lotr.wikia.com/wiki/Faramir) and Tuckborough (http://www.tuckborough.net/faramir.html). (As well as both the book and film versions of The Two Towers and The Return of the King, of course.)

First Person I: [Faramir of Gondor had seen many strange things during his lifetime, but he had never seen anything like the communicator before. With a slight frown on his handsome features, he turned the device over and over in his hands.]

Is this what has brought me to this strange place?

[He did not reach for his sword, though the familiar weight of it at his hip was something of a comfort. He had had enough of fighting. Faramir would not hesitate to use it if he must, but he would not shed blood unless he had good cause to do so.]

What manner of magic is this? What sorcery can pull a man away from his home and his kin?

Perhaps the war is not yet over. It would seem that we have many battles left to fight.

I am Faramir, Captain of the White Tower and Steward to the King of Gondor. Who has brought me here? If there is anyone here to answer me, I bid you to speak. The men of Gondor make poor prisoners but we can be valuable allies.

First Person II: [Faramir of Gondor had seen many strange things during his lifetime, but he had never seen anything like the communicator before. With a slight frown on his handsome features, he turned the device over and over in his hands.]

What manner of magic is this? It is like no sorcery I have seen before.

[It could only be sorcery, after all. The device had lights that moved and flickered of their own accord and a mirror that captured his every movement. It was not a natural object.

In ordinary circumstances, he would have spoken to Gandalf about such a peculiar discovery. But these were not ordinary circumstances. The wizard had ridden out with Aragorn and his men. The final battle against the dark forces of Mordor would be fought at the Black Gates of Minas Morgal, not on the fields of the Pelennor, and Faramir would have no part in it. Could have no part in it. All he could do was wait and hope and watch for the moment when the clouds on the horizon lifted at last.

Thinking of Gandalf, however, reminded Faramir of Pippin. Of Pippin and his encounter with the palantir. That was the reason he had been separated from his friends and brought to Minas Tirith, was it not?

When he spoke again, Faramir addressed the communicator directly.]

If you seek to corrupt me, you need only to look into my heart to know that you will not succeed.

[He had allowed Frodo to go free, after all. This mysterious device would not succeed where the One Ring had failed.]

I am Faramir, Captain of the White Tower and Steward to the King of Gondor. Speak, if you are able, so I may know the name of my enemy. If you wish to extend the hand of friendship, you would do better without the use of dark magic.

Third Person: Faramir had lived his whole life in Minas Tirith, but he could not remember a night when the city had slept soundly. For years beyond memory, the shadow of Mordor had hung, dark and foreboding, across the lands of Gondor. When the threat – which had once been nothing more than the ghost of battles past and victories hard earned – solidified into something real and the agents of the enemy began to spill out of Minas Morgal, the people of that once fair land were not surprised. Afraid, yes, but not surprised.

Though he lived in the midst of the uncertainties of war, Faramir had no doubts about his own place in the scheme of things. He belonged on the field of battle, fighting alongside his kin and for the safety of his home. Perhaps things would be different one day – perhaps he would be able to put aside his arms and enjoy a life of true peace – but, with the agents of the dark tower pressing closer by the day, it was impossible to imagine any such time. Besides, with Boromir gone these three months, it was his place to lead the soldiers. He was not the Captain of the White Tower – that title belonged to his brother – but he was Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien. The men knew that he was not Boromir, but, unlike their father, they did not judge him for that. If anything, they loved him for it. They respected him for his own judgement and they did not want him to give orders that came from with his brother’s tongue.

During the long evenings, when Denethor would listen to his council without hearing a word or stare through his youngest son without appearing to see him, that was a small but significant comfort. When his father addressed him, it was to give orders that he did not expect Faramir to be able to fulfil.

Tonight, he spoke with customary terseness and without raising his eyes from his dinner.

“You will take the rangers south tomorrow. It is time we see how Pelargir fares.”

“Father, our scouts report the Pelargir has been overrun. With the army in Minas Tirith, we had no soldiers left to guard the coast ...”

“Then you will confirm their reports.”

It was a pointless risk, but it was not the first time that Denethor had given such an order and it would not be the last. When he finally looked up for his meal to meet his son’s eye, it was to confirm what Faramir had known all along. There was disappointment and dislike in his expression and, beneath that, a grim certainty. He was certain that Faramir would fail to carry his orders. He was certain that Faramir would not be good enough.

“We leave in the morning.”

As he turned to leave, his father’s breathing impossibly loud in the silence of the white marble hall, Faramir endeavoured to ignore his unease. His father’s disappointment was wrapped around his shoulders like a cowl. In its own way, it was as heavy as the shadow of Mordor. It was as difficult to imagine his father’s acceptance as it was to imagine peace, but he had to hope. That was all he could do.

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APPLICATIONS -- 2010; 001

Faramir | Lord of the Rings | Reserved [4/6]

Faramir | Lord of the Rings | Reserved [5/6]

Faramir | Lord of the Rings | Reserved [6/6]

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