To the Lord Elessar Elendil’s heir called Aragorn son of Arathorn, rightful King of Gondor and Arnor, Faramir son of Denethor sends greeting.

Lord, for your gracious reply of the day before, my thanks and the thanks of all here. If our efforts in Minas Tirith find favour in your eyes, we who serve you can have no higher recompense.

I am pleased to report that the large part of the city’s dwellers have returned from their refuges, and more have come to swell their ranks and behold with their own eyes the King's return. The healers' accounts of the progress of the injured are hopeful, and with every passing day the mending of the city advances. We have made provision also for the repair of the road from Osgiliath, which had sustained grievous damage in the late wars. The farms of the Pelennor are much restored, while man and beast daily return to rebuild homesteads and holdings. To speak of what further must be done to heal the hurts of this land, we await your return and counsel.

In the meantime, some few matters must be decided pertaining to the ceremonies surrounding your return and coronation. As I am advised that in four days hence you and your company will be camped on the nearer shore of Anduin within sight of the city, I shall by your leave present myself there with the office-bearers of the realm to hear from your lips your will in this regard.

In anticipation of the most happy and auspicious return of the King, I remain your liegeman and servant.

By my hand this 25th day of April in the year 3019 of the Third Age.

By my hand this 25th day of April in the year 3019.

Very early in the morning on 29th April of 3019, a small company rode out from Minas Tirith in the direction of the Osgiliath crossing, where many tents could be seen clustered about four large pavilions, signalling the triumphant return of the Hosts of the West. The approaching dawn painted the sky in delicate shades of rose and the air was sweet with the scent of summer flowers.

The heart of Faramir was eased of care as he led the company, for beside him rode the Lady Éowyn, fair as the morn; and they laughed together in sweet contentment as they journeyed. Soon they came to the edges of the encampment, which was still quiet; few were astir at that early hour.

There, just at the entrance to the middle way leading to the central pavilion, at the head of a small group of men, two small figures waited: one clad in the black and silver of Minas Tirith, and the other in the white and green of Rohan. Both bowed low at the approach of the company and raised laughing faces to greet them. The first of them spoke to Faramir as he dismounted.

“Welcome my Lords, and twice welcome, fair Lady of Rohan! I’m sent to greet you all and say to Lord Faramir and Lord Húrin that you and your company are awaited in the great tent yonder.”

“Why, our thanks to you, O Prince among Halflings!” Faramir smiled. “Word has come to Minas Tirith of your great deeds on the Battle Plain. You honour your service,” he said, relinquishing his reins with a smile of thanks to a liveried man of Rohan who came up to lead his horse away.

Éowyn, whose arm was still in a sling, nevertheless managed to slip off her mount with the grace of one born to the saddle. She smiled on Meriadoc with affection as he took her hand and kissed it. “It is a great joy to see you again, my valiant friend. I must suppose that my brother keeps you busy in his service, as you are awake so early to receive us!”

“To tell the truth, we insisted on being the ones to greet you,” Merry confessed with a faint blush. “In any case, I’d wake up earlier than this for the privilege of escorting the loveliest lady in Gondor and the Mark, and so would Pippin here,” he added with a cheeky smile.

“I see that I must have a care lest the lady be beguiled away by the blandishments of the halflings!” Faramir said, with a mock frown.

At this moment, they were interrupted by a glad shout: “Éowyn! At last!” And the tall young king of Rohan swooped upon his sister to catch her by the waist and swing her high into his embrace. He whirled her around with a joyous torrent of words in his own language, and she laughed down at him, half in delight and half in admonishment at this exuberant display. All who beheld their reunion smiled fondly at the great love that was apparent between brother and sister.

“You are well? I see that you carry your arm in a sling even now,” Éomer said, putting her down to stand on her own feet. “I have longed to see you these past weeks, for there are many things we must speak of, and parchment cannot contain all that I have to tell you!”

“I am more than well, dear brother. My arm is quite healed, although the healers will not let me put off the sling for a week or two yet. I have much to tell you also,” Éowyn said, with a glance and sweet smile at Faramir, who returned it with a grave but tender salute of his own.

Éomer looked upon this exchange and then studied his sister’s face thoughtfully. “It seems so indeed.”

He turned from his sister towards the company of men from Minas Tirith, and inclined his head formally, saluting them in Gondorian fashion. “Well met, Lord Faramir, Lord Húrin, and nobles of Gondor. It is a joy to see you all well.”

“Hail Éomer, King of the Mark,” Faramir returned, with a courtly half bow, and the other men echoed him.

“I thank you for escorting my sister hither, and shall now steal her away for private converse. I pray your forgiveness for this abrupt parting, and hope to have more speech with you all by and by.” Then the King of Rohan bore his sister off, while the rest of the company followed Peregrin to the large pavilion at the centre of the camp.

Within it was a sizeable company, which included the fair twin sons of Elrond, Prince Imrahil, and several captains of Gondor and the Dúnedain of the North.

Faramir heeded no other but walked directly to the tall man who sat at the centre of the gathering. Greatly he had desired this moment of reunion; for his memories of the king were brief and dreamlike from the first few moments of his recall from long wandering in the shadows, and he wished to look again with waking eyes on the man he had recognised in his heart from the first instant of meeting.

Aragorn was simply dressed, his only adornment the great green Elfstone that his people in Minas Tirith already knew him by. Yet here indeed were the majesty and power Faramir had glimpsed so fleetingly, and the wisdom and valour. And also, he saw that the king was a man tempered by his experiences to patience and compassion. He thought that he should have known him anywhere as a King from the high race of old, and he bent to one knee.

“My King, I have waited and made ready for your return as you bid me; what now are your commands?”

Aragorn took his hand and raised him to sit at his side. “I rejoice to see you again, and so well restored to health, Lord Faramir.” And he presented him to those of the company that were not already known to him: the Lords Elladan and Elrohir, and the captains from the North.

Now Faramir in his turn presented the chief men of Minas Tirith, and many courteous words passed between them all. Then they spoke of the ceremonies that would welcome the King back on the first day of May.

“The time approaches, Lord, that Gondor has longed for: when the Steward may surrender his charge and the rule of the realm to its rightful keeper. This I shall do in the sight of all the people before you enter the city.”

Aragorn shook his head. “The rule of the Kingdom you may surrender, Lord Faramir, but not your charge. I would have you continue as Steward of this realm as the men of your line have done since Húrin’s day.”

Faramir bowed his head and said, “I will serve in whatever fashion you deem fit, my Lord. You command me in this as in all else.”

It was now decided that Elessar would take up his Crown before the Gate of Kings and a great feasting would follow after in the City, that all who came might celebrate the return of the King. When all was settled, the company rose to disperse.

Aragorn stayed Faramir with a hand on his arm. “Lord Faramir, a word.”

“What is your pleasure, Lord?”

“I would know your thoughts in the matter of the Stewardship. Some constraint I sense in you, though what the cause may be, I cannot tell.”

Faramir met his eyes frankly. “Concerning the Stewardship of Gondor, it is an honour that I dreamed not of, Lord. From my earliest youth that was the province of my elder brother. That I should stand in his place never crossed my darkest imaginings. Yet I also have been bred to service of this realm, as Boromir was, and as those of my house have been for generations beyond count. I know my duty in this matter.”

Aragorn took him by the shoulders and spoke earnestly. “Have I wronged you in this? I have no wish to coerce you to another burden unwanted and unsought. I would not see you bound to an onerous duty against your will; you deserve better of me than that.”

Faramir looked long into the King’s face: so stern and resolute, and yet so wise and kind. “And if I were to say that I did not wish this task, and asked you to relieve me of it?” he said.

“Then I would release you from it,” Aragorn replied steadily, “And honour you no less. But I hope very much that you will not ask it of me. I hope this for the sake of the realm of Gondor… and also for my own sake.”

Now Faramir smiled and gripped one of the hands that rested on his shoulder. “Lord, King’s Steward I will be, and serve you with good will. Fealty I have sworn already in my heart, and will do so again gladly before all the world. Do not fear that you force me to an ill-desired end. If I hesitated, it was merely that for a moment I recollected my father, and my brother who should have followed him as Steward.”

He paused, then went on, “As truly as I love this realm, so freely do I pledge you my allegiance. To serve both an honourable duty and an honourable lord will be no burden.”

Aragorn released him with a sigh that spoke of some great care eased. He smiled upon his Steward with such unshadowed delight that a great answering tide of joy and love swept over Faramir.

“May I have your leave now, my King?” he said. “For I desire to greet the Ring-Bearer and Samwise; since they parted from me at Ithilien, they have been always in my thoughts. Others there are also whom I must speak with.”

Aragorn bent a look full of understanding on him and nodded his assent. Faramir kissed the king’s hand respectfully, and went aside to speak with the Prince Imrahil, his uncle. They embraced fondly, and the Prince conducted him first to a tent where Frodo and Samwise were taking their ease. With the two hobbits were Legolas and Gimli. When Frodo saw Faramir, he gave a cry of joy and hurried to meet him, followed closely by Sam, who was grinning widely.

Faramir knelt to greet them. Holding them away from him at arms length, he looked gladly into their faces, then drew them close and kissed each of them on the brow.

“Welcome once again, Frodo and Samwise, to Gondor! Beyond my remotest hopes you have achieved our salvation and returned safely to the lands of the living.”

“I am very glad to see you, Faramir,” Frodo said, “And now we will have time to exchange tales with no shadow of fear hanging over us.”

“And so we shall, when you come to the White City!” Now Faramir turned to Samwise and smiled at him. “Well met again, Master Samwise Gamgee. It seems that you took the chance, in your turn, and showed your quality: the very highest!”

“Now Captain, my Lord: ‘tisn’t fair turning my own words around on me like that!” Sam said, laughing. “By rights I ought to reply with what you said, about the praise of the praiseworthy, though I’d rather you heard the song they made, sir, about Mr.Frodo! Lovely it was!”

“There will be time enough for tales and songs, Sam, and I would learn more of the Shire which breeds such great hearts and wise heads; but now I must leave you for a while. Other duties call me.”

So saying, he bowed to the dwarf and the Elf, and bidding the hobbits farewell, went out with his kinsman, the Prince Imrahil. For a while they walked between the rows of tents, speaking of many matters. Now the Prince told of the great battle outside the Black Gates, and of the celebration at the Field of Cormallen, and all that had followed until the hosts returned at last to Gondor.

“I thank you for all your tidings, my uncle. Now I must ask you, if you will, to lead me to Mithrandir,” Faramir said sombrely.

Now Imrahil looked upon Faramir’s face with a troubled look on his own.

“You cannot keep me from this, Lord. For many weary weeks I have waited, left to feel my way through darkness: to guess after the events that transpired between my return to Minas Tirith unconscious and my waking to the king’s healing hands. None remained in the city to give me the answers I craved. And I shall not now be gainsaid in this matter, nor stayed from hearing the full truth.”

“Very well, kinsman. Though I would keep you from pain if I could, I see that you are resolved upon this, and cannot deny you further.” So saying, Imrahil led him to the tent where Mithrandir could be found. He kissed Faramir on the brow, and left him alone with the wizard. 

Gandalf welcomed him warmly, and Faramir for his part was pleased to see the wizard so carefree and joyous. But swiftly the joy in Mithrandir’s face was dimmed to sober concern when Faramir spoke.

“Tell me now the whole, Mithrandir. What befell Denethor my father? How died he while still within the walls of the city?”

Gandalf was silent for a long moment. Like a carved figure of white marble he sat, very still and lost in deep thought, it seemed.

Faramir said, “All my life I have dreamed of doom in the great wave and the fathomless waters; but now I am nightly oppressed by visions of death by fire. My father’s voice calls to me, but I cannot answer, and walls of flame divide us. These are not dreams alone but memories, I now deem.”

As the wizard was still silent, Faramir spoke once more. “Ever you have given me the truth, however bitter; have you not taught me that through knowledge and reason comes harmony of mind? Do not leave me now chained to doubt and darkness, Mithrandir.”

Now Gandalf told him of all that he knew and guessed: how Denethor had long striven against Sauron’s will and used the palantír to seek the knowledge he craved, and how he had been deceived by the malice of the Enemy, and how at last his mind had been overthrown by grief and despair.

“At the end, in his anguish and madness, he sought a swift deliverance, for he had no hope left. His guilt and remorse at having driven you, as he thought, to your death, determined him to share your fate. He would have burned you and himself on the same pyre. But by a happy chance, Peregrin was there, and he sought Beregond’s help in staying the deed until I could come to prevent it.”

Gandalf spoke sadly of how Beregond had been forced to fight the servants of Denethor and slay three of them. He went on, sparing none of the truth, telling of Denethor’s final madness and his ending upon the fire. Faramir buried his face in his hands, and wept. When at last he looked up, his face was grey with distress and a great weariness.

“It is worse, then, than I had guessed. Alas for my poor father! Beyond his strength was the task he set himself. Grievous was his passing, and the greater my sorrow that I did not divine the cause of his overthrow. Alas, alas, that I did not regard the rumours in the city! But I did not know that one of the Seven Stones remained within the Citadel. And thus I failed him,” said Faramir.

“Yours was not the failure, Faramir. I, who knew of the palantír’s existence, should have foreseen that your father would seek to use it. I did not recognise that his pride and fear were grown so great as to risk such a trial. But he was strong-minded as well as self-willed, and he would not have suffered either of us to thwart him. Give yourself no blame. It was the evil working of the Enemy’s purpose that wrought upon your father and turned his mind so far from its normal wont into madness. Yet, recall that he loved you to the very end, and misguided as his thought was, he did but try to spare you torment at the hands of your foes.”

“You seek to put a fairer face on that which is woeful beyond telling, Mithrandir. A kind thought, but it does not avail. I have understood more than your words have said, and I cannot find any light in this.”

Gandalf frowned and spoke sternly. “Grieve for your father, as indeed you must, but do not let his passing darken your heart. Remember what I said to you before: that you would be needed here for other things than war. Do not forget that you have been preserved for a better end, nor let this sorrow poison your days. The living cannot carry the burdens of the dead forever.”

Faramir looked up, and drew a hand wearily over his brow. “Verily, nor would I deny it. And my life has been dearly bought and paid for by many: by you and the halfling and Beregond, and not least, by the King. Fear not, my old friend and teacher: I shall not waste the gift.” And he wiped his tears away.

“Moreover, there is a duty unfinished now that I must consider; I would have a just settlement for all, atonement and redress alike.”

He was pale still, but a new calm overspread his face. He looked now as a man who had suffered a great affliction, but has striven against it and mastered it. He bowed to Gandalf respectfully, and the wizard placed his hand gently on Faramir’s dark hair, and blessed him.

It was thus that Pippin found them when he came in. He hesitated at the entrance to the tent. But Faramir looked up and smiled, and welcomed him.

“I beg your pardon,” Pippin said. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You have no need to apologise, Peregrin,” Faramir said, “For indeed, I was about to seek you out.”

“Me, sir?” Pippin said, looking surprised.

“I wished to thank you,” Faramir explained gravely, “For saving my life.”

Pippin blushed a fiery red. “Oh, I didn’t do very much you know, other than run for help. It’s my friend Beregond you should thank, Captain: he kept anyone from touching you until Gandalf arrived.”

“Nevertheless, I do thank you,” Faramir insisted. “Without your call for help, none would have known of my plight in time to bring aid. This debt I know I can never repay, but I do pledge my gratitude and friendship in return.”

Peregrin drew himself up and bowed with great dignity, though he blushed as strongly as ever. “In my land, Lord, we believe that among friends there are no debts, but only gifts freely exchanged. Therefore I am already repaid by your words.”

“Your folk are wise then, as well as great of heart, Sir Peregrin, as I have cause to know already. I would be honoured by your friendship.” And he took Peregrin’s hand and kissed his brow.

“The honour is mine, Lord Faramir,” Peregrin said. “But I was forgetting! Gandalf, the King requests your presence: will you come to him?”

“Indeed I will, young Took. Farewell, for the moment, Faramir: you will find me with the King when you have concluded your business in the camp.”

Now Faramir asked Peregrin where he might find Beregond, and was directed to one of the outer tents, where many were gathered to break their fast. At the mess tent, he was intercepted by a group of his Rangers, led by Mablung. “Captain Faramir!” they cried delightedly, clustering around him, vying with each other to clap his back or grip his hand. Someone raised a cheer. Faramir smiled on them with affection, returning their salutes gladly: for he loved these weather-beaten men who had served with him so long in the secret, lonely frontier war. He was grateful to see that so many had survived the great battle without loss. He asked after the men he knew to be injured, and promised to visit them as soon as he could. Then he put aside his men gently, for he had seen the man he sought, seated with a lone companion of the Guard of the Citadel.

Beregond rose, beaming with joy, and wrung the Captain’s extended hand in his relief. “My Lord Faramir! It is a great joy to see you so well mended! When we left Minas Tirith, you were yet abed.”

“I thank you, Beregond, and I am pleased to see you well also. Will you walk with me?”

They left the camp and went a little way off, up to the river. Then they sat on the bank in silence, and idly tossed pebbles into the water with the ease of long companionship. After a while, Faramir spoke.

“Do you remember how we used to play at battle, you and I? Sometimes it seems but yesterday that we practiced with wooden swords, Steward’s son and soldier’s son together.”

“You were always the better archer, but I could best you with a sword, as I recall,” Beregond said, chuckling. “At least until Boromir took to showing you tactics that the swordmaster did not know: I have not forgotten my bruised ribs after he taught you that Easterling trick of feint and parry!”

“Ha! You were well repaid for the black eye you gave me that day. In truth, I could not see what I did,” Faramir admitted ruefully. “It was by pure chance that I hit you at all.”

“And you needs must weave stories around our weapon drills, so that we were always imagining ourselves heroes from the legends of old. Do you remember the time that you were playing at Isildur stealing the fruit of Nimloth, and Mistress Halwen caught us filching apples from her tree?”

“It was hardly my fault that you insisted Anárion would have helped his brother, and we were both caught,” Faramir pointed out.

“Yet it was always your ideas that led us into trouble! I was Beleg Cúthalion to your Túrin Turambar, Finrod when you were Beren: oh, what a to-do there was when we set that wolfskin rug afire in our play…! ”

“Yes, and somehow always the game ended with you giving your life heroically in trying to save me,” Faramir said, and suddenly the jest was no longer amusing.

“I have no words to thank you, Beregond. You have saved my life before in battle, but this is different. Well I know what it must have cost you in anguish and sorrow to draw your sword within the Hallows. Yet I fear you will pay dearer still, by our laws.”

“Faramir, since we played together as boys I have loved you. If I saved you in battle, as you say, recall that you have done the same for me and your men a hundred times over. Moreover Lord, you are my Captain, and your life is more precious to me than my own. I could not have left you to burn: do not say that you regret the outcome of my deed!”

“I cannot: I am glad to be alive,” Faramir admitted. “Life is very sweet to me, especially now I have learned joy that I never thought to know.”

“Then I am well requited. Whatever the price, I will pay it gladly.”

Faramir gripped his hand, and did not trust himself to speak for a moment. Then Beregond forced a smile, and rose, and spoke as lightly as he could. “I hear you are to be Steward still; and that is a piece of glad news. Not that it comes as a surprise, for the Lord Elfstone is fortunate to have you, as well he knows!”

And so they returned to the camp, and Faramir went to seek the King.

When Faramir came again to the great pavilion, he found Aragorn in converse with Gandalf and Imrahil. He approached and bowed.
“Gandalf has been speaking of Beregond,” Aragorn said, looking troubled. “I know the laws of Gondor, and I am vexed by their harshness upon this point. Since the foundation of the City, it has been strictly forbidden to violate the Hallows with blood. And a man who left his post without leave in time of war may not serve any longer in the Citadel Guard: so speaks the law. Yet his need was desperate, and his cause was just; I cannot find it in my heart to condemn him.”

Prince Imrahil said, “Lord, if I may speak as one who also has some interest in this matter, I beg your mercy. Can the law not be set aside in this case? For Beregond bore a valiant part at the battle outside the Black Gates, where he stood at the forefront of the men and never faltered until he was wounded and overcome. Indeed, as he had been relieved of his duties as Guard of the Citadel, he need not have come to battle at all; but he insisted he would do his part and would not remain behind. Surely for his steadfast courage and his gallant deeds he may be excused despite the word of the law?”

“It is not an easy matter, Lord Imrahil; for I was taught to reverence the law and to hold that it must bind all, from high king to lowest subject, else it will bind none. Though my heart speaks as you do, I cannot wholly set aside the ancient laws of the realm. And I guess that Beregond would not thank me for such a thing carelessly granted, for he is a man who holds his land and its traditions in honour. Nor do we live in the time of tyrants and slaves, where a single man’s whim may give or withhold favour. Lord Faramir, you are most nearly concerned in this. What would you say to me?” Aragorn asked.

Faramir bowed deeply. “I love Beregond dearly; as boys we played together in the city. Grown to manhood, shared service and danger have bound us ever closer. Even did I not owe him my life, I would speak for him.”

“Speak then. Would you have me overlook the law, as Lord Imrahil does? What mercy do you urge for Beregond?”

“Lord, I need ask no greater mercy for him than this: my King,” he said with utter faith ringing in every syllable, “Grant him justice. The King’s justice.”

At these words, Aragorn stood with a strange look of mingled wonder and awe and gratitude. He bowed in his turn to the Steward and said, “I pray I may ever be deserving of such trust, Lord Faramir. Indeed, if in time I learn to be half the king I see reflected through your eyes, I will hold myself worthy beyond all dreams.”

Now they clasped hands in token of their newfound understanding, and it seemed to those who looked on them that a light shone about both men.

“This is what you have both been trained for, King and Steward,” Gandalf said. “You fulfil all my hopes in you. My task was to help folk set things to right, and I have no fear now for either of you, or for the Kingdoms of Men.” He looked upon them both with love and pride, while Prince Imrahil, greatly moved, murmured his approval.

“Set things right we shall. Be it known: justice is not a favour for the king to grant, but the right of all free peoples in our realm. I will not fail you,” King Elessar said to his Steward. “I swear it.”

‘In the days that followed his crowning the King sat on his throne in the Hall of the Kings and pronounced his judgements. […] And there were brought before him many to receive his praise and reward for their valour; and last the captain of the Guard brought to him Beregond to be judged.
And the King said to Beregond: 'Beregond, by your sword blood was spilled in the Hallows, where that is forbidden. Also you left your post without leave of Lord or of Captain. For these things, of old, death was the penalty. Now therefore I must pronounce your doom.
'All penalty is remitted for your valour in battle, and still more because all that you did was for the love of the Lord Faramir. Nonetheless you must leave the Guard of the Citadel, and you must go forth from the City of Minas Tirith.'
Then the blood left Beregond's face, and he was stricken to the heart and bowed his head. But the King said:
'So it must be, for you are appointed to the White Company, the Guard of Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, and you shall be its captain and dwell in Emyn Arnen in honour and peace, and in the service of him for whom you risked all, to save him from death.'
And then Beregond, perceiving the mercy and justice of the King, was glad, and kneeling kissed his hand, and departed in joy and content.’

-- from The Return of the King, by J.R.R.Tolkien