Of First Impressions and Old Friends

Faramir opened the curtain, peered within, where the hobbits lay: Frodo exhausted, shadows like bruises on his pale face; Sam, even in sleep, a worried furrow on his brow, an arm flung across his master.

He felt a stir of protectiveness and love. So small, so determined, so valiant. Their mission was hopeless…would he not be doing them a favor to hinder it?

He drew up sharply.

“ ‘Not if I found it on the highway would I take it…’ Well that I gave oath before I knew whereof I spoke.” He laughed ruefully.

And took himself away from temptation.

Frodo stirred slightly, his eyes slitted half-open, as he saw Faramir's shadowed form backing away from their sleeping alcove. He'd been sleeping until he felt the tug against his mind, as the Ring exerted Itself. He had found himself, against all odds, trusting Faramir, yet he knew what It could do, even to one with the best of intentions. He had readied himself to assert his will and make It subside, but there had been no need. The Man had backed off on his own, and Frodo even felt a twinge of mild amusement at the Ring's disappointment.

"'If hard days have made me any judge of Men's words and faces, then I may make a guess at Halflings! Though, there is something strange about you, Frodo, an elvish air, maybe." So Faramir had said of him. But he thought himself a judge of character as well--and he recalled his words, telling Faramir that he had an "air of wizards". Perhaps that was why he found himself trusting the Ranger--he reminded him very much of Gandalf.

He choked back a sob at the thought of Gandalf. The greatest of the Company had been the first to fall, but not the last. If Faramir's vision was true--and Frodo saw no reason to doubt it--then Boromir had been the next. Frodo shuddered at the thought of that noble Man as he had last seen him, his comely face contorted with rage and Ring-lust.

And it was all too likely that if Boromir was dead, the others were as well. Oh, Merry! Oh, Pippin! But no, he mustn't allow himself to think of that! Faramir had said Boromir had been placed in that boat by friends, arrayed as if for a funeral...his cousins had to be all right.

But, yes, Faramir did remind him of Gandalf. In fact, Frodo recalled, Faramir had also known Gandalf as a friend. He recalled one evening in Hollin, as they ate their meagre supper in preparation for the night's journey. Gandalf had crossly reminded them to hurry, and had stalked off to the edge of the campsite and lit his pipe, muttering and mumbling all the while.

Boromir had looked after the wizard. "He truly is irascible, isn't he?" he said with a wondering tone.

Merry and Pippin had exchanged a grin; Sam chuckled; Frodo himself had shaken his head with a wry smile.

Gimli had said "He's cranky. Always has been, so long as I've known him."

Aragorn chuckled, and Legolas nodded with a smile. "He used to upbraid my father with impunity, and had the nerve to tell Thranduil to his face that he was an 'old man' and entitled to say things as he pleased!"

Boromir shook his head. "I always thought he was gruff because he and my father did not get along. Now I see that they did not get along because he was gruff!"

Frodo had shifted slightly and spoken up. "So you knew Gandalf as well? When did you know him, then?"

The Man of Gondor had looked up, and a look of amusement crossed his face. He gave a smile and said "I was a callow stripling of fourteen at the time I first met him. But I did not know Mithrandir nearly so well as my younger brother. Faramir was nine, and completely captivated by him..."

Faramir went to his own pallet. He did not expect to sleep; too much had happened this day. Not only the attack of the Southrons, but the unexpected encounter with the halfling of the riddle and his friend. Frodo and Sam were by no means what he had imagined halflings to be; truth to tell, he had never really envisioned halflings before at all, even when the riddling dream had come to him. He had far more interest as a youngster in the tales of ancient Númenor, in the Sea Kings of old, and even in the Elves of the earlier ages. And then there was the news that Mithrandir, too, was lost.

A new and fresh grief to lay alongside his grief for Boromir, not so sharp, perhaps, nor so hard to bear. But Mithrandir had been his friend. He remembered the twinkle in those dark eyes, the shaggy eyebrows and bristling beard, the gruff, yet fond, manner of speech so unlike his father's stern and formal words. His words had been filled with amusing double meanings and sly jokes. Most of all, he had paid grave attention to a young boy who had questions...

It was not unusual in those days for Boromir and he to attend their father's audiences with those who came to seek him. They were expected to stand silently, to observe, and take note of what was said and done. Their father would often ask them later their opinions, as he sought to teach them statecraft.

From the first moment Faramir had laid eyes on Mithrandir, he had been fascinated. There was something about him, at once high and far away, yet earthy and free as well...

Frodo recalled Boromir's occasional glances at the wizard, as if he were wondering whether they could be overheard. Frodo was quite sure that Gandalf could hear every word. But if he disapproved of being the object of conversation, he did not indicate it. He simply stood with his back to them, examining the sky, and sending forth smoke rings to chase one another. At any rate, Frodo said nothing. He wanted to hear Boromir's story.

"My father was rather cool and polite, though he spoke respectfully enough. He offered him the hospitality of staying in the guesthouse where he had lodged in his visits during my grandfather's time, but he did not give him much time. He quickly dismissed Mithrandir, and made time for a delegation from Lossarnach. I am afraid that Faramir risked my father's displeasure by slipping from my side and quietly going out as well. Fortunately for Faramir, my father did not notice his truancy. As soon as I could do so without getting into trouble myself, I went in search of my little brother..."

Faramir remembered how he had silently followed the wizard. Something about the old man drew him. He watched Mithrandir pass out into the Courtyard of the White Tree, and saw him go before it, ignoring the silent Guardsmen. He had stood in silent contemplation of the dead tree, his staff in one hand, and his pointy blue hat in the other. After a moment, he'd given a slight bow, put his hat upon his head, and strode off. Faramir had trotted along behind, curiousity burning in his young breast.

Then Mithrandir had stopped, and sat himself down upon one of the marble benches that were located here and there along the walkways. Faramir had gathered up his courage, and drawn near.

He found himself suddenly the object of scrutiny from two very sharp black eyes beneath the bristling brows. "Good morning, sir" he'd said politely, appalled to hear how his voice had squeaked...

Sam proffered some more of the tea he had brewed, and Boromir and the others accepted, before the Man had continued his tale--

"I passed outside into the courtyard, and cast my eyes around in hopes of seeing my errant young brother somewhere, and I saw him in the distance approaching the wizard to speak to him. I cringed, imagining the impudent child being turned into a toad at worst--or at best having the wizard complain of Faramir's behavior to my father. Imagine my surprise at seeing Mithrandir throw his head back, and laugh heartily enough that even on the other side of the courtyard, I could hear it."

"What happened?" Pippin asked curiously. "How did he make Gandalf laugh?" Frodo saw the twinkle in Pippin's eye, and thought perhaps his youngest cousin was recalling occasions when he had managed to make Gandalf laugh.

"I asked him about that later, and he told me..."

Faramir recalled that he had gulped as the wizard looked him up and down for a moment, but he held his ground and stood at polite attention.

Finally Mithrandir had spoken. "Good morning, eh? What do you mean? Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?"

Frodo remembered how Boromir had blinked in surprise as all the hobbits suddenly burst into gales of helpless laughter; Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas chuckled as well, but Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin were howling and wiping their eyes. Frodo finally managed to get his breath back, and he noticed Boromir's astonishment at their reaction. He also noticed that across the campsite, Gandalf's shoulders were shaking in silent laughter as well. Frodo drew a deep breath, and suppressed the chuckles that still seemed ready to burst forth. Sam and Merry had finally managed to control themselves, but Pippin was still chortling in fits and bursts.

Boromir had given a puzzled smile. "I know that I thought it an amusing response, but I must confess, I did not think it was *that* funny!" he exclaimed.

Frodo had shaken his head, and chuckling once more, said “Apparently Gandalf does not mind repeating himself. He said the exact same thing to Uncle Bilbo at one time!”

The Man’s eyebrows rose, and then, as one, Frodo remembered, all eight of them had cast a nervous glance in Gandalf's direction.

Frodo had grinned once more, realizing that the wizard’s apparent indifference to the conversation was all for show, and he’d turned once more to Boromir. “So, how did your brother answer him?”

Faramir had been taken aback by the question. No one had ever said anything like it to him before. He thought for a moment, and then said “I think that I mean the first, sir--that is, I wish you a good morning. But the morning is a good one anyway. The weather is very pleasant and the sky is very blue.”

Mithrandir had burst out with a loud bark of hearty laughter, and then said “You are not only a polite boy, but a very wise one for your age. I have known some adults who would not know how to answer my insolence!”

“How can you be insolent, sir? You are an adult, and I am a child.”

He nodded. “A very astute observation, my lad. You are the Steward’s younger son, are you not? Faramir?”

“Yes, my Lord Mithrandir.”

“I am no lord, boy, just a weary old man. Come, sit and speak with me a while,” and he patted the bench next to him. As Faramir did so, overjoyed with the response, the wizard pulled out a strange-looking item--a sort of small bowl with a curved stem. “Have you ever seen one of these before, Faramir?”

Faramir had shaken his head. “No, sir…”

“I watched for a moment, and then saw Faramir sit down next to him. As I walked over, I began to see small perfectly round rings of smoke floating up to hover over the wizard’s head, where they turned green. I thought this rather amazing myself.”

“He can do all sorts of tricks with smoke,” said Merry. “Have you ever seen him turn them rainbow coloured?”

“Indeed, I have. They welcomed me to join them, and Mithrandir deigned to answer all of my brother’s rather intrusive questions with grave attention. He told us some stories as well, which I must confess I thought to be all moonshine made up to entertain us. But Faramir believed his every word. Mithrandir was in the City for several months that year, and my brother took every chance he could get to be in his company.” Frodo saw a cloud pass over Boromir’s expression. “It did not please my father,” he said.

The fact that Gandalf chose that moment to suddenly rejoin the Company, saying briskly, “Well, we’ve had enough time to rest. Let us be on our way. I should like us to make at least a league ere moonrise,” confirmed Frodo’s belief that he’d heard everything.

Perhaps, thought Frodo, as the memories drew him back towards sleep, it was Boromir’s stories of Faramir that help me to trust him. He does remind me of his brother, so proud and noble and brave. But I fancy I see something of Gandalf in him as well…I am glad to have had the chance to meet him…

Faramir turned on his side, his back to the common room where several of his men still stirred, and drew his blanket up. Mithrandir--Gandalf, as the halflings called him--had trusted these two. He fancied that he could see something of the old wizard’s wisdom in the halfling’s blue eyes.

He had just begun to drowse, when he felt a hand upon his shoulder. “Captain Faramir! There is something or someone at the pool!”