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Chapter 9: A wizard's pupil and his stooge, Faramir's story to Aoshi









After suffering a crushing defeat at Osgiliath, Faramir and his men raced out on Pelennor Fields, to make for Minas Tirith. Many rode upon horses, others were running on foot. But all would not be easy for them, for the Nazgûl's chased them mercilessly with their foul winged steeds flexing their claws and snapping their mouths at the men, darting in and out, causing many deaths among the horses and riders.



"Take cover!" the fleeing soldiers cried out, trying to duck out of the Nazgûl's paths trying to avoid being clawed, or eaten by their fell beasts.

"Take cover, my lord! Its coming!" one of the soldiers cried out to Faramir, who raced his hardest against the Ringwraiths.



As one of them came closer to him, ready to take a bite out of him...





ZIIIIPPP!!!!



An arrow pierced its long neck that nearly came out of nowhere, making the creature squeal in agony. Faramir looked to his side...





And a strange man with short black hair that nearly covered his eyes, which were like ice, and a stony expression on his face racing towards him, upon a light, yellow-colored horse. The man fired more arrows at the wraiths, trying to ward them away from the men. A few were hurt, but it wouldn't stay them off for very long as the wraiths kept trying to kill the Gondorians.



"Who are you?" asked Faramir the stranger as he came to him.

"A friend," he answered, unwilling to reveal his name to Faramir, "follow me. I shall help guide you to Minas Tirith."



Although Faramir did not know his name, he accepted his help as he and his rescuer, with the fleeing soldiers continued to head for Minas Tirith. But even with the stranger's help, the fell beasts were too much. All seemed lost...



Until another rider, carrying a white staff, with a smaller second rider in front of him, mounted upon a white stallion rode out on Pelennor Fields to assist the fleeing army along with the man who saved Faramir earlier. On the walls of Minas Tirith, many of the people watched the rider, going to the aid of the soldiers in peril...





"It's Mithrandir," the people murmured to each other, gazing at the rider.

"It's the White Rider!" the guards called out.





The other rider rushing to save the soldiers was none other than Gandalf and it was the young Peregrin Took, who rode up front, mounted upon Shadowfax, converging swiftly with the flight of the men. Gandalf and Pippin raced at their hardest, with the speed of an arrow, to get to Faramir and his company.

Some of the fell beasts aimed for the ice-eyed stranger, trying to make food out of him. He swiftly fought back, using two small dagger-like swords to drive them back as he swung them in the air at the winged creatures.



"Don't stop!" the ice-eyed man cried ardently, "keep going!"

He then looked to his side, and spotted Gandalf and Pippin upon Shadowfax.

'/Gandalf/,' he thought hopefully...



As the Gondorians rode tirelessly to Minas Tirith, being plucked off one by one by the winged beasts of Mordor... one of the wraiths flew in front of them... and shoved part of the earth at the fleeing soldiers, trying to block their escape, making them scatter...



When Gandalf got close enough to them, he raised his staff...





FLASH!





And a shaft of pure white light stabbed upwards, shining brightly at the flying Nazgûl. Fearing the light of Gandalf, the wraiths and the Fell beasts, hastily flapping their wings about, flew away in defeat, rising in swift spirals as they passed away eastward... and vanished into the lowering cloud above, retreating back to Osgiliath.



"Mithrandir! Mithrandir!" the Gondorians called out, seeing the light from Gandalf, which scarred off the wraiths for the time being.



The stony-faced man looked at the fleeing Ringwraiths, and then at Gandalf, who provided the light, and nodded firmly in appreciation. Gandalf then retracted his light... and fell in at the head of the company, making a wide sweeping arc... withdrawing towards Minas Tirith.





The guards of Minas Tirith immediately went toward the gate to open its mighty gates...

"Open up!" the guards cried encouragingly as they quickly unlocked the gates, "pull!"





The guards pulled open the gates quickly and laboriously... to let in Gandalf, Faramir, and the other defeated defenders of Osgiliath, pouring into the city and to safety. Though many in number, they were few in faith and hope, worn out and tired from their loss at Osgiliath.



The people of the White City rushed down to meet the soldiers, greatly relieved to see them again, though many other soldiers did not survive. Gandalf and Pippin upon Shadowfax observed the stricken soldiers knowing that Mordor's might was too great for them. Gondor's only hope for victory was with the Riders of Rohan now.



"Mithrandir!" someone called out to Gandalf...



It was Faramir coming towards him on his horse, with the stoned-faced man beside him on his horse.

"They broke through our defenses, they've taken the bridge and the West Bank," Faramir gravely informed Gandalf, "...battalions of Orcs are crossing the river."

"It was as the Lord Denethor predicted!" cried one of the soldiers called Irolas, "long has he foreseen this doom!"

"Foreseen and done nothing!" returned Gandalf.

"If Denethor had truly foreseen this," the ice-eyed man added in reproach, "he would've done everything in his power to prevent it."

"Indeed Aoshi," Gandalf agreed with the man, speaking his name.



Faramir widened his eyes in shock to hear that name, Aoshi. He knew that he saw him dressed strangely as he had seen the strange cloths of Kaoru and Yahiko. There was no doubt, in Faramir's mind, that this stranger who saved his life, was one of the people that Kaoru and Yahiko told him about.

Faramir then turned to Gandalf... and froze in shock once again, staring at Gandalf's passenger, Pippin, with his mouth almost dropping to the ground. Pippin noticed that he was being stared at strangely by Faramir and lowered his face, not wanting his attention.



Gandalf looked upon Faramir's stricken expression and inquired of him, "...Faramir?"



But Faramir did not look at Gandalf, only continued to stare at the Hobbit passenger sitting in front of Gandalf. Gandalf also noticed the direction of where he casted his gaze...



"...This is not the first Halfling to have crossed your path?" the wizard inquired further.

"No," answered Faramir, causing Pippin to look up at Faramir as his face brightened.

"You've seen Frodo and Sam?" the Hobbit asked brightly.

"Yes, I have," Faramir responded, then turned to the ice-eyed man known as Aoshi, "and if you're name is Aoshi... let me say that I've also met Miss Kaoru and the young Yahiko. They were also with Frodo and Sam."



Aoshi gasped, along with Pippin, knowing that Kaoru and Yahiko were still with Frodo.



"Where?" asked Gandalf earnestly, "when?"

"In Ithilien," answered Faramir, "not two days ago."



Gandalf, Aoshi, and Pippin turned to each other, brightened even more to know that Faramir had met their friends and that the quest to destroy the ring had not yet failed. But there was something, they didn't know about...



"Gandalf," said Faramir, with a hint of alarm, "they're taking the road to the Morgul Vale."

Upon hearing this grave news... Gandalf lowered his expression with his eyes filled with worry.

"... And then the Pass of Cirith Ungol?" the wizard wondered.



Faramir nodded silently, yet solemnly to the wizard's fears.



"...Cirith Ungol?" asked a bemused Aoshi.

"...What does that mean?" inquired Pippin, in fear, "what's wrong?"

"Does it mean, that we have another problem?" Aoshi asked worriedly.

"...I most sincerely hope not, Aoshi," replied Gandalf, then turned to Faramir, "...Faramir, tell me everything."









Upon telling Gandalf, Aoshi and Pippin the story of his meeting with Frodo, Faramir, along with Aoshi, went up to the Citadel, to tell Denethor of the defeat suffered at Osgiliath, to which the Steward was not all very pleased...



"This is how you would serve your city?" Denethor fumed silently yet furiously, "you would risk its utter ruin?"

"...I did what I judged to be right," reasoned Faramir.

"What you judged to be right?" Denethor returned contemptuously, "you sent the Ring of Power into /Mordor/, in the hands of a witless Halfling!"



Faramir looked at his father in sympathy, knowing that he had the chance to deliver Frodo to him, but decided not to take that chance.



Denethor then went on despairingly, "it should have been brought back to the citadel, to be kept safe... hidden... dark and deep in the vaults, not to be used..."

Aoshi, while hearing Denethor talk about the ring, narrowed his eyes at the Steward, being very leery of him...



"...Unless at the uttermost end of need," amended Denethor, confirming Aoshi's suspicions.

"I would not use the ring," Faramir staunchly informed Denethor, "not if Minas Tirith were falling in ruin and I alone could save her."

"Ever you desire to appear lordly and gracious, as a king of old," Denethor sneered coldly in reply, gesturing to Aoshi, "you are much like your new friend here, who masks infidelity with his own sense of courtesy."

"He saved my life, and the lives of my men," said Faramir, defending Aoshi.

"But for what purpose, I wonder?" questioned Denethor, unrelenting, "you would give your trust so easily to a stranger, an otherworlder in fact. Such gentleness in such desperate hours can only be repaid, with death. You should keep your eye fixed on him. Mithrandir may have brought him hither to be a spy within my very chamber."

"I came here at my own free will," stated Aoshi, "despite the differences that we may have, Denethor."

"It matters not to me how you come to be here," Denethor responded scornfully to Aoshi, "you say that you were with Boromir when he died... but you have not known him as well as I have. For Boromir would've remembered his father's need... he would've brought me a kingly gift."

"In any case, it would've made no difference in the end if he tried," Aoshi firmly informed, "the ring's power corrupts all those who greatly desire it, and Boromir was no exception."

"Aoshi is correct my lord," interjected Faramir, agreeing with Aoshi, "Boromir would not have brought the ring. He would've stretched out his hand to this thing and taken it, he would've fallen."

"You know nothing of this matter!" snapped Denethor.

"He would've kept it for his own!" Faramir briskly shot back, "and when he returned... you would not have known your son."



"BOROMIR WAS LOYAL TO ME!" Denethor exploded with rage, storming wildly out of his seat towards Faramir, "NOT SOME WIZARD'S PUPIL OR HIS STOOGE!"

Denethor tripped suddenly, falling backwards from the seat, onto the floor. Aoshi looked with a little disgust at Denethor, lying there like a ball of misery. Faramir, taken back by his father's outburst of fury, walked closer to him with a compassionate look on his face.



"Father?" consoled Faramir.



Denethor then looked up at Faramir... and his face brightened up strangely and so oddly enough... that Faramir stepped away in fright. Aoshi's eyes widened, full of apprehension as Faramir, seeing the Steward stand himself up, with his happy... yet delirious smile fixed upon his face...



"...My son," gasped Denethor brightly...





Seeing Boromir standing behind Faramir and Aoshi, alive and well, turning to face him with a smile, carrying something in his hands. Denethor beamed with glee... as Boromir slowly came towards him...



Then slowly vanished away from the Citadel... turning Denethor's expression gloomy once more, realizing that he saw nothing more but a shadow of the son who was the most loyal to him in his sight. Aoshi and Faramir, with hard stares at Denethor, shared the same feeling that he was starting to lose his grip on reality. Denethor grimaced at Faramir and Aoshi... not wanting any kind of sympathy from either of them...





"...Leave me... both of you," Denethor angrily breathed out.









Aoshi and Faramir walked out from the Citadel. Faramir had a look of sympathy, as he turned his eyes on Aoshi, who looked bitter after dealing with the odious Steward.



"Aoshi," spoke Faramir, "you must forgive my father, though I fear that he is starting to become unbalanced. But it is as he said before, these are desperate times, and he feels that there is no luxury for leniency."

"I understand that principle, Faramir," said Aoshi, "all too well, in fact. I have seen cases when people lose someone so close to them that they are unable to make rational and absolute judgments. However, I regret to inform you that, your father worries me. After hearing him speak about the ring, I trust him even less than he trusts me."

"I guess that feeling is mutual between you and my father," observed Faramir.

"Denethor was right about one thing... I was trained as a spy," admitted Aoshi, which made Faramir raise an eyebrow in surprise, "...I suppose now that you think less of me like your father does, Faramir."

"...No, Aoshi," replied Faramir truthfully, "as far as I'm concerned, you've proven your valor to me, spy or no spy."

"Thank you," said Aoshi simply.



The pair stopped over by the low wall... overlooking Osgiliath, which had just fallen under the forces of Mordor.



"Osgiliath," said Faramir forlornly, "it was once the capital and chief city of Gondor before it was superseded by Minas Tirith. It was a proud and populous city, but over the years... the city has become ruined by war, as well as afflicted with a pestilence from the east, that killed nearly all its inhabitants. From that point on, we used Osgiliath as an outpost for the passage of arms, set up with all sorts of fortifications and men who were on guard endlessly each day..."

Faramir went on, "...I was charged with the responsibility of guarding Osgiliath. One time, we were being overrun by the Orcs and they managed to capture it. Then Boromir, with a great force of our Men, threw back the assault, and we regained our outpost. And that was the last day I saw Boromir alive before he left for Rivendell."



Aoshi noticed the strain within Faramir, mentioning his brother's name, as well as the last day that he saw or spoke with Boromir.



"I remember that day well, Aoshi... just as if it were yesterday," said Faramir, beginning to tell his story, "all of the men cheered his name..."











BOROMIR! BOROMIR! BOROMIR! BOROMIR! BOROMIR! BOROMIR! BOROMIR! BOROMIR! BOROMIR! BOROMIR! BOROMIR! BOROMIR...!





The soldiers of Gondor had cheered Boromir's name in victory as they had reclaimed the city of Osgiliath from Mordor's armies. Boromir stood high upon one of the cities tall buildings, and plunged a banner on the top of the building...



Boromir drew his sword as he called out loudly, to the men, "this city, was once the jewel of our kingdom. A place of light, and beauty, and music... and so it shall be once more!"

"Hooray!" the people cheered out.

Boromir went on, proudly, as he shouted to the masses, "let the armies of Mordor know this... /never again/, will the land of my people fall into enemy hands!"

The people cheered once more, "YAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

"...This City, of Osgiliath, has been reclaimed," Boromir finished as he raised his sword in glory, "...FOR GONDOR!"





"FOR GONDOR!" the people replied their roars to Boromir...



"FOR GONDOR!" Boromir shouted again...



"FOR GONDOR!" exclaimed the men once more...



"FOR GONDOR!" Boromir bellowed triumphantly a third time, raising his sword high above his head...



"FOR GONDOR!" the men cheered back enthusiastically.







"It was a great day for our people," said Faramir to Aoshi, telling more of his story, "...even more so that our spirits were restored even stronger to protect Osgiliath, as well as the rest of Gondor."







As Boromir came down from where he was, Faramir walked amongst the crowds to congratulate his brother as he embraced him with great merriment.



"Ha, ha, ha! Good speech," complimented Faramir, clapping his brother's shoulder, "nice and short."

"Leaves more time for drinking," replied Boromir humorously as he and Faramir laughed gaily, then called out to the men, "break out the ale, these men are thirsty!"

"Yeah!" The soldiers cheered.



Barrels of Ale were prepared for the victorious soldiers of Gondor. Boromir held two mugs of ale, one for himself and the other for Faramir. The two brothers stood under an archway with mugs of ale, crowds of drinking soldiers all around them.



"Remember today, little brother," Boromir said as he gave a mug to Faramir and held his in a toast, "today... life is good!"

With that, the two brothers clanged their mugs together... and drank to their victory. Then Faramir turned a little ways to the side and his expression changed from a hearty grin... to a somber look on his face, and his eyes became shuttered, like he's seen a bad omen or something...



"What?" Boromir asked when he noticed the change in his brother.

"...He's here," Faramir replied in a grim voice, lacking emotion...





Boromir turned to look in the direction his brother was holding... and saw their father, Denethor, congratulating the men around him, heading in their direction...





"Ha! Well done men," said Denethor to the men, his voice filled with pride.

Boromir then turned to Faramir with his face tightened in irritation as he said, rather bitterly, "oh, one moment of peace, can he not give us that?"

"Where is he?" Denethor asked jovially, just noticing Boromir, "where is Gondor's finest? Where is my first-born?"



Boromir's eyes met Faramir's in sympathy then he turned to met his sire.



"Father!" greeted Boromir with a smile, letting go of his resentments earlier.

"Ha, ha!" Denethor exclaimed with a gay laugh as Boromir came to him... and they embraced heartily.



Faramir observed this act, wishing that he were hugged like that.



"They say you vanquished the enemy almost single-handed," said Denethor, holding his son at arm's length to look at him with fatherly pride.

"They exaggerate," Boromir replied sarcastically, as he gestured a praiseworthy arm towards Faramir, "the victory belongs to Faramir also!"



Faramir then started to go towards Denethor, encouraged by Boromir.



"But for Faramir, this city would still be standing," scoffed Denethor, with his expression turning to displeasure as he faced his youngest son, "were you not entrusted to protect it?"

"I would have done, but our numbers were too few," Faramir solemnly justified himself.

"Oh, too few," Denethor nodded in mock understanding, before saying with contempt, "you let the enemy walk in and take it on a whim."





"As he told me those words... my spirits began to leave me. Part of me believed every word he said to me..."





"Always you cast poor reflection on me," Denethor spat reproachfully.

"That is not my intent," replied Faramir quietly and somberly, trying to reason with his father.

"You give him no credit, and yet, he tries to do your will," Boromir whispered sharply to Denethor, striding away from him.



Denethor grimaced harshly, hearing his eldest son's admonishment of him... turning to follow Boromir into an empty building nearby.



"He loves you, father," said Boromir, defending Faramir.

"Do not trouble me with Faramir," rebuked Denethor, "I know his uses, and they are few."



Boromir wanted to debate even further, but he knew that his father's mind was adamant... too adamant to ever listen to anyone, especially to his own sons.



"We have more urgent things to speak of," Denethor began, gaining Boromir's attention, "Elrond of Rivendell has called a meeting. He will not say why, but I have guessed its purpose...

"...It is rumored, the weapon of the enemy has been found," Denethor stated forbodingly.

"...The One Ring?" Boromir asked, as his expression turned to shock, gasping with realization, "...Isildur's Bane."

"Yes... Isildur's Bane," nodded Denethor in confirmation, "it has fallen into the hands of the Elves. And there's more... they say that people from some other world have come to this world... and that their world was in danger from the enemy as we are."

"...It sounds incredible," replied Boromir, even more shocked, "...do you believe such a thing?"

"With the Elves and Wizards... anything is possible," said Denethor, certain of this unbelievable revelation, "everyone will try to claim it... men, Dwarves, Wizards. I also believe that these otherworlders will try to claim the ring for themselves."

"But you say that these otherworlders are in danger from Sauron," mentioned Boromir, "wouldn't they be considered allies?"

"But who is to say where their true loyalties lie?" Denethor responded quietly, yet skeptically, "...with their world in danger, they would surely use the ring's great power for their own gains. We cannot let that happen. This thing must come to Gondor."

"...Gondor?" Boromir repeated uncertainly.

"It's dangerous, I know," Denethor said, hearing the uncertainty in his son's voice, "ever the ring will seek to corrupt the hearts of lesser Men. As I believe that those otherworld people are lesser than those in this world are.

"But you," added Denethor, grabbing his son's arm with pride, "you are strong, and our need is great. It is our blood which is being spilled, our people who are dying..."

Denethor continued further in despair, "Sauron is biding his time. He's massing fresh armies... he will return. And when he does, we will be powerless to stop him...!



".../You/, /must/, /go/," Denethor ended desperately... with a terrible hunger entering his voice, "...bring me back this might gift..."





Boromir listened intently as his father spilled out his warnings like an old beggar from the streets. The uncertain warrior somehow knew that his father was right. Their victory would be short-lived if something wasn't done to save Gondor. But doubt gnawed in his mind to believe that bringing the ring would change the war in the favor of Gondor...





"...No," Boromir shook his head emphatically, backing away from his father and out of the building, "my place is here with my people, not in Rivendell."

Denethor followed after Boromir, asking reprovingly, "would you deny your own father?"



"If there is need to go to Rivendell," Faramir chimed in, suggesting, "send me in his stead."

"You?" Denethor asked as he gazed upon his youngest son with scorn, "ah, oh I see... a chance for Faramir, captain of Gondor, to show his quality. I think not."



Faramir felt lowly once more, after hearing his father's refusal.



"I trust this mission only to your brother," announced Denethor as he glanced sternly at Boromir, "the one, who will not fail me."

Boromir shifted uncomfortably, knowing how his brother felt. He realized that arguing with Denethor was meaningless and useless to boot. And so...





Boromir prepared himself for the long journey to Rivendell as he looked upon the banner of the white tree of Gondor floating freely in the sky. The banner that he placed upon the top of the building when he made his speech of victory. He also looked down at Faramir, who looked up at his brother with a sad expression, feeling that he would never see his loving brother... ever again.



"...Remember today, little brother," Boromir told his brother assuredly.



Faramir, with a sad, somber smile... nodded a little to Boromir. Boromir then took one last look upon Osgiliath... before slowly turning his horse, and spurred it on its' way to Rivendell... with Faramir solely standing there, staring on after his brother...











"...And I remembered that day ever since," Faramir sadly finished his telling, in a weak, stuttering voice, beginning to cry.



Aoshi was sympathetic to Faramir's telling of the last time that he ever saw his brother alive, then closed his eyes somberly, feeling more sorry for Faramir's loss of Boromir. Moments of silence passed as Faramir cried more tears...



"Faramir," Aoshi broke the silence, "when you first heard that I and my associates were from another world, did you believe it?"

Faramir regained his wits, before he answered, "...I didn't know what to think at the time. There were many rumors of your friends' presence in Middle-Earth, Lord Aoshi. When I first encountered Lady Kaoru and the young Yahiko in their strange garbs... part of me did believe that they were from another world."

"Despite what your father thinks of me and my comrades," informed Aoshi, "we are not here to claim the ring for ourselves, but to see it destroyed, for that will be the only factor for the salvation of our worlds."

"Yes, I believe that now," agreed Faramir, then began explaining, "...I never really was interested in the ring to be honest. Even if I was such a man, I would've made a vow that I would take it, not if I found it on a highway. But I was conflicted between my loyalty between my father, and the dangers of the ring when I was bringing Frodo and his friends to Osgiliath. They tried to convince me to let them go, but I wouldn't listen. For I really did think, like my father did... that it was my chance to show my quality..."



Aoshi nodded a little in understanding to Faramir's reasons.



Faramir continued, "we men of Gondor are truth-speakers. We boast seldom, and then perform, or die in the attempt. I am wise enough to know that there are some perils, which a man must flee. Once I realized this... I let Frodo go on his mission."

"And so your father is not pleased," Aoshi finished for Faramir, who nodded affirmatively in response, "...you should not let that trouble you. You've made the right choice, whether your father agrees with you or not, or even thinks you've done it on a whim or not. And in that respect Faramir, you've shown the greatest quality that anyone could ever have."

"Heh, strange," said Faramir, with a small smile, "...Sam said exactly the same thing when we parted."



Aoshi lifted an eyebrow, a little confounded, to hear that he's not the only one who complimented Faramir and his quality.



"Thank you," Faramir simply answered, "however, I would like to learn more about you... for my part at least."

Aoshi paused before he said, "...I'm afraid I'm not much of a sociable person, Faramir. I am a man of very few words."

"Maybe so," said Faramir, "...but even the person of very few words can be the most interesting."

"...I'm flattered that you believe such a thing, Faramir," replied Aoshi solemnly, which made Faramir smile to himself.



As Faramir and Aoshi stood together moments more...







Denethor looked on from before the front gates of the citadel, fixing his eyes darkly at them. Faramir seemed to be getting friendlier with the otherworlder that his father especially disliked. The Steward's bitterness towards Aoshi grew menacingly as he turned away, entering back into the Citadel.













Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings and RK are not mine. They belong to their authors, respectively J.R.R. Tolkien and Watsuki Nobuhiro. This fanfiction is created just for fun, not for any commercial purposes.



A/n: well, it looks like I used another scene from Two Towers extended edition for a flashback, huh? I especially thought the scene with Boromir, Denethor and Faramir should've been used in the third film.



And I wrote this chapter especially for my brother, who is now living on his own. But anyway, there are more chapters, like I promised, so keep reading and reviewing.