In this biweekly series, we’re exploring the evolution of both major and minor figures in Tolkien’s legendarium, tracing the transformations of these characters through drafts and early manuscripts through to the finished work. This week’s installment explores the creation of Faramir, one of the quiet heroes of The Lord of the Rings.
In a 1944 letter to his son Christopher, J.R.R Tolkien wrote:
A new character has come on the scene (I am sure I did not invent him, I did not even want him, though I like him, but there he came walking into the woods of Ithilien): Faramir, the brother of Boromir—and he is holding up the ‘catastrophe’ by lots of stuff about the history of Gondor and Rohan (with some very sound reflections no doubt on martial glory and true glory): but if he goes on much more a lot of him will have to be removed to the appendices. (79)
Tolkien’s words are tinged with self-deprecation: The Lord of the Rings was taking quite some time to write, in part because the plot was being interrupted by long and sometimes rambling discourses on the histories of languages, pipe weed, and other such distractions. Many of these passages—and Tolkien was well aware of this even as he wrote them—would ultimately be removed from the main text and either stowed away in various appendices and prologues or relegated to obscure drafts that were only discovered as Christopher arranged the History of Middle-earth series. Tolkien was “holding up the ‘catastrophe,’” and he knew it.
His attitude towards Faramir here is thus one of self-conscious amusement, for though he often said he identified with hobbit-culture, he knew very well that “As far as any character is ‘like me’ it is Faramir” (Letters 232). He felt that he understood Faramir quite well, though, as is often the case, the character did not appear in the tale as organically and suddenly as Tolkien himself claimed. Tolkien might have felt that he “did not invent him,” but as Christopher later notes, the drafts suggest otherwise (The War of the Ring, hereafter WR, 147).
When JRRT set out his outline before drafting “Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbit,” “the emergence of Faramir and the Window on the West was totally unforeseen” even while such details as “the broken statue at the Cross-roads was already present” (WR 132). In this regard, then, Faramir does come “walking into the woods of Ithilien” rather abruptly—but he does not do so as Faramir.
In the two earliest drafts of that chapter, Faramir is Falborn, son of Anborn, a distant relative of Boromir who was born in Ithilien and, along with his men, was acting as a sort of Ranger in an effort to keep the advances of Sauron out of that region (WR 136). Falborn was dropped altogether by draft C; Anborn, on the other hand, became one of Faramir’s few named followers. Remarkably, however, the meeting of Falborn, Frodo, and Sam is at this stage “achieved without hesitation” and is only different from the version in The Two Towers in a few small details. In fact, as Christopher notes, “Falborn’s conversation with Frodo and Sam proceeds almost exactly as does that with Faramir in TT” (WR 136), though at this point “there is yet no indication that he will play any further part” and the narrative does not suggest that Falborn means to detain the hobbits (137).
At this point Tolkien paused in his drafting to wrestle once more with chronology, for “the story was entirely changed by the entry of Faramir” (WR 142). It meant a delay in Frodo’s progress towards Mordor and also had implications for Gandalf and Pippin’s arrival in Minas Tirith, for Tolkien soon saw that Falborn/Faramir would return to speak with Denethor. Ultimately, however, Christopher believes that once the chronological difficulty had been solved, the drafting of “The Window on the West” took little more than a week and was “not extensively amended later” (WR 144).
The arrival of Faramir sent shock waves into the rest of the text. In the throes of writing the Faramir chapters, Tolkien was coming to terms with the fact that the opening chapters of “the Hobbit sequel” would need radical revisions in tone—they were too lighthearted, too childish. He had a darker story to tell.
We can see that sentiment, I think, through the original conception of Faramir as Falborn. Falborn, Christopher observes, is “harshly uncomprehending in tone compared to the later Faramir” (WR 165). And it’s true. Falborn has a tendency to respond severely to Frodo’s remarks—and to Sam’s, even more so. He claims, much like Boromir, that evil follows those who enter the Golden Wood; Faramir’s distinct respect for the Elves is missing. Pride and hardheadedness often marks Falborn’s tone, whereas Faramir is often described as “gentle.” Falborn’s response to Sam’s accidental revelation of the Ring is also less forgiving and less noble, though he does still immediately reject the idea that he might take it for any reason (unlike the notorious film-version of Faramir). What’s more, even as far as the second well-developed draft, “there is […] no suggestion at this point that the hobbits will not be allowed to go free” (WR 146). So Falborn is far more like Boromir than Faramir turns out to be: these early lines are not so clearly drawn, and the unfortunate hierarchy between the soon-to-be-brothers has not yet emerged. At the same time, however, we can see the shadow of Faramir as he will be: gracious, and most of all merciful.
At this point in the drafts, something changes. Tolkien gets a new idea. Christopher writes that JRRT’s “handwriting speeded up markedly and becomes very difficult, often a sign that a new conception had entered that would entail the rewriting and rejection of what had preceded” (WR 147). That new conception was Faramir’s vision.
Tolkien had toyed with the idea of a vision before. When Falborn and Frodo discuss the finding of Boromir’s horn by the Men of Gondor, Tolkien noted that Falborn’s men certainly already knew of Boromir’s death—but how? “A man riding 70 miles a day,” he determined, “could have brought news of Boromir’s death by word of mouth to Minas Tirith before Falborn and his men left the city” (WR 146). But was this what had happened? Perhaps Falborn and a handful of his men had seen a vision of Boromir’s death as they camped in Ithilien (WR 146, 149).
It seems that in the moment described above, as Tolkien’s handwriting became considerably more illegible than it already tended to be, he decided that Falborn had indeed seen a vision. This is the first of a few moments in which the Faramir character experiences something like second sight: we’ll see it again later as he and Éowyn await news from the Black Gate.
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Interestingly, it’s the addition of Falborn’s vision that also introduces the idea that he and Boromir are brothers (WR 147). This does not yet affect Falborn in any significant ways. He retains his name, perhaps suggesting that Tolkien had not yet settled on the fraternal naming conventions of the people of Gondor.
Falborn becomes Faramir in draft C, which, Christopher explains, is curiously “written on odd bits of paper, much of it very roughly, […and it] is not continuous” (WR 148). In this draft, however, some of the important adjustments were made to Falborn’s temperament and tone that transformed him into the Faramir of the finished product. He responds less sharply; his reverence of the Elves is elaborated on; and he shows more respect for what we might call gentility. He is still a hard man in many ways, as Faramir is and must be; but nevertheless, he begins to develop that air of gentleness and kindness that ultimately sets Faramir apart from his father and brother.
In draft D of the chapter “Faramir,” the Stewards of Gondor make their first appearance, and they do so in nearly their final form, though Tolkien had never before written anything concerning them (WR 153). It’s clear that JRRT at least had them in mind some time before committing their description to paper.
Tolkien also starts to develop the stark contrast between Boromir and Faramir, writing that the latter “was doubtless of a different temper [than the former], but Frodo feared the power and treachery of the thing he bore: the greater and wiser the stronger the lure and the worse the fall” (WR 167). Later, he speaks of Denethor, saying that “whatever be his ancestry by some chance the blood of the men of Westernesse runs true in him, as it does in his other son Faramir, and yet not in Boromir whom he loved most. They have long sight” (WR 281). Here we see that Faramir’s “second sight” is in fact a condition of his Númenorean ancestry. It sets him apart from his brother because he, much like his father, has the ability to see further into situations and thus determine a wiser course. Boromir, by contrast, often makes up his mind rashly, and once decided, refuses to be swayed.
Faramir, on the other hand, is willing to let himself be changed. When he first comes “walking into the woods of Ithilien,” the young captain is represented in ambiguous but subtly threatening terms that are slowly softened by his graciousness and grave wisdom. In the beginning, he questions Frodo and Sam harshly, enforces a radical political binary1, and sternly resists an easy acceptance of what he sees. Instead of instantly passing judgment on the situation, he devotes precious hours to developing a deeper understanding of the two hobbits who have fallen into his hands: he says that he will “‘spare a brief time, in order to judge right justly in a hard matter’” (LotR 665). We learn later that he has been a student of Gandalf’s and that in peaceful days he was more inclined toward learning and lore than war.
In a letter to an unidentified reader that was never sent, Tolkien resisted his reader’s shallow understanding of Faramir’s gentleness and gravity. “I think you misunderstand Faramir,” he explained. “He was daunted by his father: not only in the ordinary way of a family with a stern proud father of great force of character, but as a Númenorean before the chief of the one surviving Númenorean state. He was motherless and sisterless […], and had a ‘bossy’ brother. He had been accustomed to giving way and not giving his own opinions air, while retaining a power of command among men, such as a man might obtain who is evidently personally courageous and decisive, but also modest, fair-minded and scrupulously just, and very merciful” (Letters 323).
Faramir continues to grow into this character as the story develops. “Once [he] began to write it,” Christopher notes, JRRT finished out The Two Towers “virtually without hesitation between rival courses” (WR 171). Book V turned out to be more difficult.
Tolkien wrote and abandoned more than one version of Book V’s opening. Faramir’s place in it is obscure at first, and minor. According to a few of the many outlines Tolkien attempted, Faramir was to return to Minas Tirith but play no other distinct role until he stormed Minas Morgul while the main force assaulted the Black Gate (WR 260). At this point, there’s no indication that Faramir will return to defend Osgiliath; no hint that this will nearly cost him his life; no foreshadowing of his near death on a heathen pyre alongside Denethor. Most of Faramir’s major plot points, in fact, are developed as Tolkien drafts.
It’s not until the first drafting of “The Siege of Gondor” that Faramir sets foot in Osgiliath (WR 324). Then, as in the finished Return of the King, he and his men are forced into a disorganized retreat, saved by his own strength of will and Gandalf’s power.
The meeting of Faramir and his father is a cold one. Mocking Faramir’s gracious manners, Denethor barks that “in these black hours gentleness may be bought with death.” When Faramir responds, “So be it,” Denethor attacks him with a dark scenario from his own imagination, calling up the memory of Boromir: “So be it […]; but not by your death only. The death also of your father and of all your people whom it will be your part to rule ere long—now Boromir is no more” (WR 328).
But the following passage is softened somewhat in the early drafts, though slowly and surely Tolkien revises it to be as hard as stone. It’s a well-known scene. This is the first version:
‘Do you wish then,’ said Faramir, ‘that our places had been exchanged?’
‘Yes, I wish that indeed,’ said Denethor. ‘Or no,’ and then he shook his head; and rising suddenly laid his hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘Do not judge me harshly, my son,’ he said, ‘or think that I am harsh. Love is not blind. I knew your brother also. I would only wish that he had been in your place, if I were sure of one thing.’
‘And what is that, my father?’
‘That he was as strong in heart as you, and as trustworthy. That taking this thing he had brought it to me, and not fallen under thraldom.’ (328)
The second draft is made even less troubling: Denethor’s response to Faramir’s question becomes qualified:
‘Do not judge me harshly, my son,’ he said quietly, ‘or believe me more harsh than I am. I knew your brother well also. Love is not blind. I could wish that Boromir had been at Henneth Annun when this thing came there, only if I were sure of one thing.’
‘Sure of what, my father?’
‘That he was as strong in heart and selfless as you, my son. That taking this thing he had brought it here and surrendered it, and not fallen swiftly under thraldom.’ (332)
Of course, the final version (made even more devastating in the film) is the harshest of all as Tolkien realized exactly what the strained relationship between the Steward and his youngest son had to be. I’ve discussed this passage in detail in my piece on Denethor, though, so we won’t spend more time on it here.
The other pieces of Faramir’s story fall into place with relative ease when compared with the rest of his tale. Many times, the first drafts achieve nearly the final form, save for occasional minor changes. Faramir returns to Osgiliath, is nearly killed, and returns to Minas Tirith where he lies unconsciously burning in a fever. Denethor, gone mad at last in despair and helplessness, attempts a live cremation and Faramir is only just saved by the bravery of Pippin and Beregond, and the timely arrival of Gandalf. Later Faramir is healed of his wounds by Aragorn, and falls in love with Éowyn while the two are confined in the Houses of Healing. He offers up his post as Steward at Aragorn’s coronation, but is reinstated and given Ithilien to rule. He and Éowyn, with the help of Legolas, cross the Anduin and rebuild a garden more beautiful than any other in Middle-earth.
One moment in particular stands out to me as we draw to a close. Sam Gamgee is often identified as the hero of The Lord of the Rings—even by Tolkien himself. It’s fitting, then, that Sam and Faramir share a moment in which they suddenly understand each other far better than they have any right to, given the short time they’ve known each other. Faramir sees beyond his preconceived notions and realizes that Sam is “praiseworthy.” Sam senses that Faramir is of high quality, and like Gandalf—a spiritual emissary sent from the Valar.
‘Good night, Captain, my lord,’ [Sam] said. ‘You took the chance, sir.’
‘Did I so?’ said Faramir.
‘Yes sir, and showed your quality: the very highest.’
Faramir smiled. ‘A pert servant, Master Samwise. But nay: the praise of the praiseworthy is above all rewards. Yet there was naught in this to praise. I had no lure or desire to do other than I have done.’
‘Ah well, sir,’ said Sam, ‘you said my master had an Elvish air; and that was good and true. But I can say this: you have an air too, sir, that reminds me of, of—well, Gandalf, of wizards.’
‘Maybe,’ said Faramir. ‘Maybe you discern from far away the air of Númenor.’ (LotR 682)
To me, Faramir is one of the great heroes of The Lord of the Rings, not because he necessarily performs great feats in battle or because he pushes himself to the limits of endurance and sanity. No, he’s a hero to me because he manages to maintain his gentle, patient, and selfless spirit even in the most brutal of circumstances. Faramir makes an effort to understand and value those around him in a way few other characters take the time to do. He literally undergoes trial by fire—and comes out the other side an even kinder and wiser man than he was before. He’s an important male role model in the book because he doesn’t make his way through the story with bravado and arrogance, but with humility and respect.
[1] “‘There are no travellers in this land,’” he says: “‘only the servants of the Dark Tower, or of the White’” (IV, iv, 657). Frodo’s response, “‘But we are neither,’” resists this simplification imposed by the laws of the Steward of Gondor (presumably Denethor) and holds that space open for one who is something else entirely, someone who is in-between.
Megan N. Fontenot is a Tolkien scholar and fan who’s an unabashed fan of Faramir and who wishes everyone to know that he’s really nothing like he seems in the films. Catch her on Twitter @MeganNFontenot1 and feel free to request a favorite character while you’re there!
[1]“‘There are no travellers in this land,’” he says: “‘only the servants of the Dark Tower, or of the White’” (IV, iv, 657). Frodo’s response, “‘But we are neither,’” resists this simplification imposed by the laws of the Steward of Gondor (presumably Denethor) and holds that space open for one who is something else entirely, someone who is in-between.
I love that exchange between Samwise and Faramir. Thank you for a fascinating article.
Faramir was always one of my favorite characters for many of the reasons you describe and his portrayal in the films was probably the most disappointing part of them for me. Well, maybe a tie between that and the Frodo/Sam/Gollum dynamic in much of RotK.
Faramir: Leader, Numenorean, Eowen’s Snuggle-Bunny
And (for those of us old enough to get the reference): The Tommy Smothers of Middle-earth.
However, (military vet) as I see it Faramir did an unforgivable thing – knowing there was no hope of success and only certain death, he took his men out to face the forces of Mordor. Because he wanted to prove himself to his father. In a military leader, this is completely, utterly wrong. As the saying goes, “your duty is not to die for your country, it’s to make the other guy die for his country.” And in a leader that means not getting your men needlessly killed. Suicidal attacks – and this was one by any definition – are only OK if it’s just your life you risk. (One can think of that third Union charge up Mary’s Heights at Fredericksburg.)
Maybe he and his father had more in common than one would think. Pride was their mutual downfall. (And it’s one of the 7 deadly sins) Is it possible that his long recovery was affected by guilt?
Maybe moving to Ithilien wasn’t just a wise political move by Aragorn (removing the heir of the old regime from any perceived “competition” with the new regime), but it may also have been welcome – it also meant he no longer had to face the widows and orphans of the men he led to slaughter.
I welcome any comments,. because this has bothered me for a long time.
#4 – Rechecking the passage, I think you’re being a bit too harsh. Faramir’s job was to lead a delaying action. Although he did volunteer, it was in response to Denethor’s attempt to shame his lieutenants into doing so, and he forced Denethor to make it an order. Faramir thought, I believe, that D. would send out someone regardless, and Faramir had the best chance of getting whatever limited success was available.
@chris: I have to admit that I’m more with Hywel on this one. (However, I don’t have any military background myself so I’m missing that perspective.) The day before Faramir volunteers Denethor had belittled and criticized Faramir and as good as said he wished Faramir dead in Boromir’s place. (And can you *imagine* the One Ring in Denethor’s possession?) Denethor announces this military action and Faramir volunteers, flat-out saying that he is trying to fill Boromir’s place by doing so. If this is a suicide mission, isn’t it more incumbent on Denethor to recognize that and *not* allow Faramir to undertake the mission?
Although, while reading your comment, it did occur to me this is another way in which Faramir is similar to Eowyn. In another article on this site a few days ago, someone pointed out that, as much as we all love Eowyn riding to war and defeating the Witch-King, she abandoned her responsibilities in Rohan. Although IMHO it’s not fair that she was shoved into domestic care-taking roles, nevertheless she was the regent for the kingdom while her uncle and brother rode to war. She essentially left her kingdom and her people leaderless. And as regards Faramir’s “suicide mission” – remember that Merry, upon seeingEowyn as Dernholm, thinks she looks like someone without hope riding towards death. Faramir and Eowyn both court death while trying to break free of the cages in which they’ve been trapped. They both eventually escape, but not without severe suffering and trauma, which experiences bind them together.
IRT to the “instant” understanding between Sam and Faramir – I never thought of that before! Now that I am, I think it makes sense. Sam and Faramir are the only two characters who come into close proximity with the ring and are not truly tempted by it. Even Gandalf and Galadriel are tempted to take the ring for themselves. Sam and Faramir share a kind of purity (and the gardening linkage I’m quite sure is far from accidental on Tolkein’s part) that they recognize in each other.
Faramir was the character I identified with most closely in LotR, being a soft spoken second son who joined the military to prove himself. The one I most admired was Sam, with Aragorn coming in a close second.
@@.-@ Historian Bret Devereaux explains why defending Osgiliath made sense here: https://acoup.blog/2019/05/17/collections-the-siege-of-gondor-part-ii-these-beacons-are-liiiiiiit/ It really helped me understand (book) Denethor’s logic. (He’s not so keen on movie Denethor.) Reading between the lines, I also felt I understood Denethor’s harshness towards Faramir better after reading Devereaux’s discussion of the siege of Gondor. To save his city, Denethor had to risk his only surviving son. Maybe he was so harsh partly because that was the only way he could nerve himself up to do what he saw was necessary. (None of which excuses him telling Faramir he wishes he had died, or trying to murder him afterwards.)
@6 I love your insights about the parallels between Eowyn and Faramir, and Sam and Faramir! I’d never thought of those similarities, but they totally make sense.
There’s a pretty strong contrast set up in the book between Denethor and Aragorn in terms of their relationships with Faramir. Denethor sends Faramir on what is nearly a suicide mission, and then tries to kill him in his madness. Aragorn calls him back from death. Denethor gives him so little rest that people murmur “the Lord drives his son too hard.” Aragorn’s first command to him is “Rest a while.” No wonder Faramir loves Aragorn–Aragorn offers him the love that his own father either could not or would not give him.
Looks like the link got messed up. Search for “Bret Devereaux siege of Gondor.” It’s part II.
I. Adore. Faramir.
That’s it. That’s the post.
@10 emmel4 — you and me both, as long as we’re both talking about book Faramir.
Still not convinced about Faramir. Another aspect – Tolkien was a WW I junior officer, and veteran of the Somme. (He contracted trench fever and trench foot and was invalided out permanently.) If anyone knew about sending people to their deaths for no good result it was the guys in the trenches then. Faramir had every right to seek death (suicide by combat) but not to take other people with him, without even a protest. And as far as delaying action – swatting a fly isn’t much of a delay. He and the men who rode out with him were brave, but their deaths were needless and wasted.
However, the more eyes, the more aspects shared. Appreciate the comments. (PS – military vet, but when I was in, women were not combatants. Any take on this from someone who did see “The Sharp End” as David Drake (who was a Vietnam vet who saw combat and then some) famously titled his 1993 book, would be interesting.
My two favorite Tolkien characters were abused in the movie treatments. I’d love for a way to be found to craft films of the life & times of Faramir and of Dain Ironfoot, with Sir PJ held back from taking charge.
@MiriamG: Oh, great. Thanks a lot. Someone posted a link to Bret’s discussion of Battle of the Pelennor Fields/Siege of Gondor last year, and I went down the rabbit hole for way too long . . . I’m *supposed to be* working, for heaven’s sake! So now you’ve reposted it, and I also find that he’s done a whole new series for LOTR, this time on the Battle of the Hornburg AKA Battle of Helm’s Deep. *sheesh* There goes the rest of my day! :^)
Edit: No, really . . . thank you, sincerely!
srEDIT – I was about to post the same thing here. I have never read any of his posts before..and so…er…you know what I’ve been reading now. All the Gondor posts and…3 posts on Helm’s Deep!! Reading those posts brought me great joy, as well. The Helm’s Deep post (first one I believe) especially helped me make sense of the logic of the battle there. Even reading the books, I never quite understood Theoden & Gandalf’s motivation. Of course with the movies…logic goes out the window, by and large.
As for Faramir. I greatly enjoyed reading about this evolution through Tolkien’s drafts. He’s always been one of my favourite characters, right behind Sam and Aragorn for me(and apparently a lot of others, as I read through the comments). Some of Tolkien’s descriptions of him and Eowyn near the end of the book are some of my favourite sequences in the whole book…like…
‘Then you think that the Darkness is coming?’ said Éowyn.
‘Darkness Unescapable?’ And suddenly she drew close to him.
‘No,’ said Faramir, looking into her face.
‘It was but a picture in my mind.
I do not know what is happening.
The reason of my waking mind tells me
that great evil has befallen
and we stand at the end of days.
But my heart says nay; and all my limbs are light,
and a hope and joy are come to me that no reason can deny.
Éowyn, Éowyn, White Lady of Rohan,
in this hour I do not believe that any darkness will endure!’
And he stooped and kissed her brow.
And so they stood on the walls of the City of Gondor,
and a great wind rose and blew,
and their hair, raven and golden,
streamed out mingling in the air.
And the Shadow departed,
and the Sun was unveiled,
and light leaped forth;
and the waters of Anduin shone like silver,
and in all the houses of the City men sang
for the joy that welled up in their hearts
from what source they could not tell.
Ahhh Faramir! My favorite! I never forgave PJ for this – I came to terms with a lot of the changes that were made, and some I even agreed were for the best given a movie medium. But I NEVER ever accepted this change or found it anything but cheap drama. More than 15 years later people still joke about how Faramir is a tipping point for me (Ironically there’s a story in there that leads to how I met my husband as it was one of the first things we argued about).
I found a lovely piece once that drew an interesting (if not tenuous) connection between Nienna, Gandalf and Faramir and posited that Faramir too was a student of Nienna (at least in spirit). As Nienna is my favorite of the Vala, I enjoyed this :)
Ah, here it is: https://askmiddlearth.tumblr.com/post/80354104175/nienna-she-who-weeps
One other thing I think hasn’t been mentioned was Faramir’s recurring dream of Numenor, which was one of Tolkien’s own!
@12 – I don’t doubt your perspective, but given that Tolkien was a veteran but also was fairly fond of Faramir, I’d have to say he didn’t intend that interpretation.
@@.-@ Chris
I would agree with you if we’re talking movie faramir, however in the book faramir would have most likely been sent regardless of his relationship with his father because in the book osgilith hadn’t been attacked yet. He was Gondors best captain and delaying mordor at osgilith is sound strategy and sending the best captain to be on hand to order an ordered retreat is important. Now Denether in his despair and anguish hinted he expected faramir to sacrifice himself rather then retreat, however I dont believe faramir intended to fulfill his father’s wishes in this regard, given the fact gandalf pulled him aside and told him not to sacrifice himself foolishly, and he tended to listen to gandalf, and by witnessing his actions, which were to heroically do the best he could to maintain an ordered retreat to save as many men as possible. Of course there was only so much he could with magical terror monsters flying around. So to make a long story short, in the book someone would have been sent with whatever reinforcements could be spared at that time regardless of family drama, and I’m sure Faramir would have been the natural choice anyway.
There is no greater test of a military leader than to oversee a retreat in good order.
@12 Chris Fair enough! I have absolutely no relevant experience or expertise here. The fact that you and Devereaux disagree says to me that this is a question where people who know what they’re talking about can come to different conclusions. And I have learned something from you both. My initial (uninformed) reaction to this scene was that Denethor was wrong and cruel, while Faramir was blameless. Now I see that either Denethor was right in the order he gave (though not in how he gave it), or Denethor was wrong to order Osgiliath defended and Faramir was wrong to obey him. Building on what some other commenters have said, Faramir may have been the most capable of limiting the number of men lost on this mission. But as Denethor’s son, he was also likely in the best position to say, “With all due respect, sir, this plan is nuts.” If anyone should have said that, it should have been him.
If it’s not too far off topic, I’m curious what you think of Gandalf’s plan (in “The Last Debate”) to distract Sauron from Frodo by marching on the Black Gate. That’s even more clearly a suicidal attack than the defense of Osgiliath. It’s evident that Gandalf, Aragorn, and by implication Tolkien think this attack is justified, but that doesn’t mean we have to agree. There’s a nod to the idea that only volunteers should go on such a mission: Gandalf says, “They must be hardy men that go willingly, knowing their peril.” But when they get close to the Black Gate, Aragorn has to send away some “young men from Rohan” and “husbandmen from Lossarnach” who “understood not this war nor why fate should lead them to such a pass.” Which suggests that either Aragorn and the other captains weren’t able to find enough experienced volunteers and filled the ranks with draftees, or Tolkien forgot what he had written before.
@@@@@ 14 and 15 You’re welcome! I’m happy to know I’m not the only one who has wasted invested many precious hours on that site!
Faramir the Dreamer, and Eowyn who seeks rest and now wishes to give rest to others, creating a garden.
They are the mortal version of Lorien/Irmo and Este, who steward over the Garden of Dreams in Valinor.
Best thing about Faramir:
Somehow knowing that the way to Eowyn’s heart was to talk about the approach of Darkness Everlasting. Perhaps the whole War of the Ring was a setup for this, with Sauron as his wingman…
@19: IIRC, the book stated that the people sent to retake Cair Andros started out thinking they could handle it, willingly taking on the risk, but their heart failed on the trip through Ithilien.
@19:
Or perhaps some folks joined the army while it was on march?
@19 Or as they got nearer Mordor, and realized what they had gotten themselves into, some of the troops remembered they had wives and kids at home who needed them. Not all volunteers retain their zeal when campaigning gets difficult.
@19:
Tolkien was a veteran of World War 1, and surely would have been aware that many young men from rural England who volunteered in the first flush of patriotic fervour found themselves in the same situation as these farmers from Lossarnach and herdsmen from Rohan when the unimaginable reality of trench warfare hit them. I don’t know if PTSD (by whatever name) was ever a formal diagnosis before 1914, but “shell shock” was certainly recognized during and after the war. I think the reality of Mordor produced the same effect on these willing but naive volunteers.
Moderator: the footnote is replaced by some text from the end of the essay. You might want to fix that.
This analysis confirms something I’ve long noticed about Faramir: his role is mainly that of narrative device. That Tolkien fleshed him out with an impressive characterization makes the story better, certainly, and in a straight-up comparison book!Faramir seems preferable to the darker film!Faramir. Yet the draft-text history shows that Jackson wasn’t completely blasphemous in this regard, he merely adjusted the aspects of a character who was already mainly of literary importance to fit the needs of a different medium. The narrative essentials of the character remain the same in both versions: foil to Aragorn and Denethor, and audience surrogate for the the people of Gondor. The degree to which one is bothered by the adaptation differences likely reflects the degree to which one views stories as vehicles for characters vs. characters as components of stories.
Stories first published on the page have a class of characters that screen adaptations almost never get right (at least the first couple of tries). The key aspects of these characters seem to be: symbolic/thematic importance (i.e. something more notable to the audience than the other characters), impact on other characters that is primarily emotional and/or inspirational, and a lack of plot-critical actions that occur within the narrative POV. Among SFF stories comic-book adaptations seem to be rife with this (if fan-based reviews are to be believed); I think Stilgar (Dune) perhaps gets the bronze medal in this category (pending the new Villanueve films’ releases), but I can never decide if the ‘winner’ of this dubious honor is Faramir or Ginny Weasley—is it better to be altered or sidelined?
[double post deleted]
@29 that is an interesting perspective and one I can almost get behind.
Almost ;)
In truth it’s probably also somewhat related to the huge wall I run into regarding the new Star Wars movies vis a vis their treatment of characters like Luke and Han. Both served an important thematic and storytelling purpose that I can recognize objectively. Subjectively, I am deeply displeased by it and take little pleasure in it.
On the other hand, I know people more upset by Aragorn’s treatment in these films, or of treatment of characters like Superman in other films. I am not as invested in those characters so while I recognize their complaints, they don’t *bother* me on a visceral level, because what the story means to me is different than what it means to somebody else. There are some characters that for me are real characters, not just vehicles, wheras it may be a different character for others.
@@.-@: “knowing there was no hope of success and only certain death”
But it wasn’t certain death. Faramir survived, as did 2/3 of his troops. Delaying and harrying actions have been part of warfare for millennia, as has been the use of chokepoints to make the enemy pay dearly for advancing, even if you can’t hold the chokepoint outright.
“it also meant he no longer had to face the widows and orphans of the men he led to slaughter”
By your metric, we should criticize Denethor for fighting at all, rather than surrendering to Sauron without a fight. Rationally, they weren’t likely to win; accepting their fate as Sauron’s slaves was the only hope for short-term survival.