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There were many things that belonged to his father that he left untouched.
The Steward's staff was always warm in his hands, but he remembered it to be more of his father's. The memory was strange to wake up and face his king after being encased in fever and nightmares, and later be informed he was the Steward of Gondor. How his father perished, he asked but they spoke in low voices that he died during the siege. The choice of words was not lost on him; died, not killed.
It was only after he assumed his duties and reached full health that he was enlightened. He learned his father's descent to madness, the crippling of his wit and his actions with oil and fire by which he took his own life and nearly that of Faramir as well.
He later learned that everyone, including his lady love, knew of his father's demise except for him. So once when the conversation fell into an uncomfortable silence at the mention of his father, all bodies tensed and eyes slipped away and refused to meet his. Faramir sighed.
"Lord Denethor," he said. "What do you know of Lord Denethor? Some may say he was just when he was a young Steward. Others may say he was harsh in his methods but victorious in results. Some may say he was distrustful. But my father was a cloth coloured in many shades. And each man saw a different colour from where he stood. I saw him and loved him as a son would love a father and I still do. He was stern, underneath which lay a soft and well-meaning heart. It was him who strove to keep me and my brother together and allowed us to indulge our interests."
Faramir stopped and smiled at the thought of a man who was now a mere memory.
"If one must blame the late Steward of Gondor," he continued in the ringing silence, "then let us blame the Enemy also! Cursed was Sauron's design and my father was caught like a fly in a spider's web. After my brother's demise, my father descended into darkness until he was not the man I knew from the time I was a boy." The emotion of love and sorrow in Faramir's words move his companions, including the new king, to tears.
That night, when the streets were empty and the lights were doused, Faramir walked among the graves of his forefathers and wept.
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