Book IV, Chapter 5: The Window on the West & Chapter 6: The Forbidden Pool
One of the heroes I’ve been looking most forward to on this journey is Faramir of Gondor, and so it was such a delight to sink into these two chapters, in which Frodo and Sam finally get to talk with him at length and come to know “his quality”, as Samwise says at one point in challenging him. With great respect to David Wenham, who I think did his best with what he was given, I think Jackson’s films (especially the theatrical cuts) really did a bit of a disservice to the character of Faramir, both in terms of how much he’s sidelined and how well he’s suited to the heroism of that moment. I’m tempted to say that he’s the most heroic of the human characters we’re given -- with apologies to my man Aragorn -- and I think a lot of what unfolds in these two chapters helps explain that feeling on my part. Oh, for illustration, here’s a lovely sketch by Donato Giancola, who I’ve featured before: http://tolkiengateway.net/w/images/e/e8/Donato_Giancola_-_Faramir.jpeg
Tolkien does like playing things out in parallel, and so I think it’s no chance that the opening of Chapter 5 involves an echo of the conversation in Book III, Chapter 2 between Eomer and the Three Hunters -- like Eomer, Faramir is a soldier and a leader of men, under a cloud of suspicion (thanks only to some flawed reasoning on the part of his lord and father/uncle, as the case may be), who is under orders to do something to his “captives” but is also a good enough and independent-minded enough fellow to hear them out when they want to go another direction. Aragorn, of course, handles Eomer with flash and pride -- he’s a king, after all, and young Eomer is someone he can impress while also advising in a slightly paternal way. Frodo has no such avenue open to him here -- despite being Faramir’s elder, he’s diminutive and weary, and in a land he knows nothing about, really. He’s at Faramir’s mercy, and that’s part of what I find interesting about the opening conversation, because Faramir exhibits that quality from the beginning. When Sam gets worried about Faramir’s probing of Frodo around Boromir and his fate, he pops off pretty aggressively (verbally), and Faramir’s answer is interesting in part because it is so different from what we’d expect of Boromir in that situation -- whereas I think Boromir would have been generous in a condescending way to Sam, laughing him off, Faramir explains the law of Ithilien about slaying those he finds there, and comments “I do not slay man or beast needlessly, and not gladly even when it is needed. Neither do I talk in vain.” I like how purposeful he is -- he knows the law. But he knows that there are demands on us that go higher than the law, even his father’s law. His questioning of them is not prosecutorial -- it’s a matter of judgment. This is what Aragorn talked about with Eomer, in their version of this encounter -- he told Eomer that good and evil have not changed of late, but that “it is a man’s part to discern them.” Faramir is a discerning man.
One way we know this is in the conversation that follows their initial exchange in front of his men -- Faramir arranges it so that he can walk with the hobbits alone, with their guards/escorts far enough away that he can speak in low tones and not be overheard. In that conversation, he quickly reveals that the thing that had worried them both previously -- that his questioning would force the revelation of the Ring and their mission in carrying it -- was in fact very much in his mind, and he consciously steered the conversation away from forcing any disclosures in front of his men. Without really knowing the quest they’re on, he recognizes its importance and his obligation to do rightly by them. At every step, he becomes more endeared to them -- he seems to accept the likelihood of Aragorn’s being his new king very freely, he speaks thoughtfully about his brother in a way that makes it clear he understands where Boromir’s weaknesses would lie, and of course he’s a big Mithrandir/Gandalf fan, which always helps establish a guy’s bona fides. Then he starts to talk about what he believes Isildur’s Bane to be, and he’s just right on the money -- a weapon of the Enemy, that might possess great powers but which would be perilous to wield. And Faramir says, famously, “Fear no more! I would not take this thing, if it lay by the highway. Not were Minas Tirith falling in ruin and I alone could save her, so, using the weapon of the Dark Lord for her good and my glory. No, I do not wish for such triumphs, Frodo son of Drogo.” There are a couple of things here that I think matter a lot. Faramir’s rejection of the Ring is total -- it’s not just that he wouldn’t steal it from Frodo, it’s that he wouldn’t touch such a thing. We haven’t seen that from any human yet, and I think there’s something a little inspiring about seeing it here from him. And I love that he says “I do not wish for such triumphs” because it leaves us open to asking, what kind of victories would matter to a man like this -- a man who rejects evil means even in pursuit of good ends?
Because Faramir then tells us what he means by this in another of what I consider to be Tolkien’s Greatest Hits, anyway -- if it’s not famous enough among others for that, it should be, and it’s going on my Tolkien mixtape. Faramir tells Frodo he wants nothing more than to see his city restored, with the White Tree in flower and the Silver Crown returned, and in particular, he says, “War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.” Boom. If you want a thesis from Tolkien on war, this is it, right here, and I don’t think it’s an accident that it’s Faramir who voices it. His brother, I think we have to accept, DID love the warrior for his glory. He could hardly conceive of a glory that came without conquest -- that’s why he wanted the Ring in Minas Tirith, lending aid and strength to Gondor’s ranks in the great war, after all. But Faramir knows that what matters is beauty, is wisdom, is peace. He would endure war for the sake of these things, but he steadfastly refuses to love it -- not even those things, like flashing swords and whistling arrows, that have on their own a kind of loveliness.
Speaking of loveliness, somehow Jackson’s film bobbles what is, I think, one of the most gorgeous settings in the books -- mostly because he wants Faramir to seem dangerous and to ramp up the tension in the scenes involving him, as far as I can tell. Henneth Annun, the Window to the West, is a freaking amazing place -- the moment when the blindfolds fall from Frodo and Sam’s eyes and they are looking through the glassy curtain of the waterfall across all of Gondor (and the rest of Middle-earth they have come here to save) into the rays of the setting sun, I mean…..how do you not make that an eye-popping cinematic moment? I do not know. Anyway, at every step here, Faramir is lowering the tension -- he explains the blindfolding and apologizes for it, and then he gives very explicit instructions to the guards to deal gently with the hobbits (going so far as to say he would just trust them to close their eyes willingly except for the possibility of stumbling). That first brilliant moment of sunset is returned to a little later, as the men of Gondor, before enjoying their meal, stand and look west to the waterfall and the twilight in honor of the sunken lands of Numenor, and beyond them the unreachable heavens of Valinor (which they call Elvenhome), and “that which is beyond Elvenhome and ever will be”, as Faramir calls it, which I take to be the Halls of Mandos where the dead lie in repose. It is as close to prayer as any action taken in The Lord of the Rings, and what I love most about it is how humble and simple it is -- no ritual words accompany the action, and there is no seeming expectation in it, no petition. It is an act of -- what? Adoration, maybe? Thanksgiving? Maybe just an acknowledgement that life is fleeting. I always find the image beautiful.
The great stumble that follows, of course, is in the recess of the cavern where Faramir talks with Frodo and Sam -- Sam, who has had a bit too much Gondorian wine, and who is carried away by Faramir’s talk of the Elves (Faramir’s exposition here about history and lore is very reminiscent of the Gandalf conversations we’ve seen with the hobbits in earlier chapters), accidentally mentions the Ring. He is immediately mortified, and pleads with Faramir not to take advantage of this revelation -- he tells him, as I mentioned earlier, “now’s a chance to show your quality.” Jackson really plays this up in the film, but here, the moment barely lasts a few seconds -- Galadriel was more tempted than Faramir of Gondor ever was. He is sorry for his brother, knowing how Boromir’s will would have been broken under the strain of such an opportunity, and he tells them that his vow would protect them “even if I were such a man as to desire this thing.” But he isn’t that, and I think that makes all the difference -- Tolkien is showing us that the strength lying in Frodo and Sam lies in others also. In Faramir, I think we see the strength that would have stood this test in any situation. How unfortunate that he did not go to Imladris in pursuit of the dream, instead of his brother, eh? He would have guided the hobbits east from Rauros across the Marshes, I feel sure.
I have to say, the final exchange in Chapter 5 moved me to tears -- Faramir speaks with such reverence to the hobbits now, especially to Frodo, knowing the burden he carries. He talks about how much stronger they are than him and how he marvels at them, and then he asks where they’re going so that he can figure out how to help them. It’s such a relief to see them receiving some genuine aid now, and not Smeagol’s self-serving bargains. And Frodo, overcome with exhaustion, tells Faramir the truth -- that he is supposed to get over the mountains, across Gorgoroth, to throw the Ring into Orodruin, and that “I do not think I shall ever get there.” What an ache of sadness is there -- to know the good deed you need to do, and to fear you will not be strong enough to see it done. That’s where I misted up -- since Frodo says this, and then slumps, and Faramir has to carry him (in an act of foreshadowing, for Sam) to bed. And then Sam praises Faramir for his excellent quality, and Faramir turns the compliment aside, saying “there was naught in this to praise. I had no lure or desire to do other than I have done.” I love Aragorn, but there’s usually a touch of pride in him -- deserved pride, of course, as a king from a line of kings, and a man who is preparing himself to rule. It’s this completely calm, self-effacing quality to Faramir that makes me think I might love him even more than the king he soon will serve -- Faramir is a man for whom to know the right thing is to do it. How rare a gift.
This is already very long, so I’ll skip through Chapter 6 pretty quickly -- so much of it has to do with Frodo and Smeagol, and I’ve spoken already about those ties. How Frodo sees himself in Smeagol and believes in mercy for him -- and how Smeagol has, despite what we might have expected, served as a guide who saved the quest multiple times already getting them through the Marshes. The one thing I do want to call attention to is the final conversation between Frodo and Faramir, after Smeagol’s been sent away. This is the position Frodo has been in ever since that Gildor conversation -- he finds himself speaking with someone who understands at least a portion of the burden he carries. He wants that person to relieve the pressures on him somehow, but they find themselves unable or unwilling to give him too much direct advice. Gildor was right, I think, in holding back to let Frodo develop some judgment. As it is, well-intentioned as Faramir’s warnings were, it’s not clear from the text that Frodo has any choice but to take the perilous path of Cirith Ungol. Faramir has no better alternative to offer, anyway, and there will not, in the end, be enough time for Frodo to have tried another way successfully. Despite Smeagol’s treacherous intentions, the decision to follow him again as a guide will prove a good instinct for Frodo -- his judgment will prove better than he expects it to be. I do love Faramir’s directness to Frodo at the end -- he tells Frodo that the errand is almost certainly hopeless and that he’ll die in the attempt, and so this is likely a permanent farewell. In another character’s hands, this could feel like blackmail or at least retribution for not having taken more of his advice. But from Faramir, it feels honest to me -- he is a man who says what is on his mind, in part because his duty carries him constantly into danger, and therefore speaking what needs to be said in the moment is important to him. I’m sure that directness won him no points with his much more courtly and sophisticated father, but we’ll get to Denethor eventually. And to Faramir again, thank goodness -- I’ll look forward to that.
In the meantime, though, we make The Journey to the Cross-roads with Frodo and Sam (and Smeagol) and then will follow them as they climb The Stairs of Cirith Ungol in Book IV, Chapter 7 & Chapter 8.