The man is Imrahil, whom Faramir has not met since childhood.

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Chapter 3: Unwanted News[edit]

this page added by Lexin lexin@tiscali.co.uk


The man said, "I suppose it has been a long time since we met. You wouldn't remember me."

Faramir let go of him, "If we have met before, I don't recall it."

"Oh!" said Damrod. "It's Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. You are a long way from home, sir."

"And trespassing in Ithilien," said Mablung, who appeared less impressed.

"Your men are both right," said Imrahil. He sounded as if the discovery amused him. "Perhaps..." he indicated his still-bound hands.

Faramir stepped forward and cut the ropes. "I trust that my mother's brother will do me no harm." He dismissed his men with a word, and they moved away to start preparing the evening meal. "You will eat with us? Then you can tell me what you wanted to say that has led you to come here unaccompanied."

"Very well," Imrahil smiled, and suddenly Faramir thought he did remember him a little - an image came into his mind of strong arms which lifted him high and swung him round, a game which made him laugh. But that must have been when his mother still lived; there had been precious little laughter in the lives of the sons of the Steward once she had gone.




"Do I take it that you are here without my father's leave?" asked Faramir, when the meal was over and they were alone. He poured wine into two goblets and handed one to his guest.

"That is so," said Imrahil. "Do I take it from the fact that you have offered me your hospitality that you are more interested in hearing what I have to say than in sending me to Minas Tirith for questioning?"

"Possibly. I will make my decision once we have spoken."

"So be it." Imrahil sipped his wine, "This is rather good," he said.

"It is sometimes difficult to persuade sensible men to serve here; one of the few advantages is that we are not stinted with supplies."

Imrahil leaned back, "Is that why you are here? As an encouragement to others, to make them believe that it is perhaps not so dangerous if the Steward sends one of his sons?"

"I have no idea," said Faramir. "I am a sensible man and do not question my father about his purposes and policies."

"You obey and do not ask questions, is that it?"

"It is by far the least painful way, yes."

"Denethor never was very patient." Imrahil put his goblet down. "Are you fond of your father, Faramir?"

"I have never considered the matter. He is my father, and that is sufficient."

"I shall take that as a no."

"Take it as you like; it is an improper question, and I do not understand why you ask it of me." Faramir took a sip of his wine.

"I shall ask you another: did you love your mother."

"Of course. How could I not? She was beyond beautiful and I was a child when she died. This is absurd; have you come all this way to talk of my feelings for my parents? While we all stand on the brink of death?"

Imrahil took up his goblet again. "There is something I must tell you, and afterwards you can send me to your father - who may very well kill me - or do aught else that you please with me."

"Go on."

"The thing I have to tell you is..."





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