That night, Faramir ventured out to find the hobbits. He found that they were all recounting stories from the Quest and  felt heartened by being near them and learning more about what had befallen all of them. His road had not been the darkest. His reunion with Sam and Frodo was joyous and he was glad to see them healed. They had a grueling time in Mordor, the hardest road of them all. Sam was constantly looking after his master.  Frodo was still seemingly detached from the company. He asked him how he was.

“Frodo, the Ringbearer, has succeeded and it’s because of you we are celebrating now instead of all being destroyed.” Faramir embraced both Frodo and Sam. Sam blushed red as a tomato.

“I could not have done it without Sam, my dearest friend,” replied Frodo, smiling at Sam.

“You both had a difficult time and we are so grateful that you both made it back to us and he can rejoice as the Fourth Age begins. It is all because of you,” said Faramir. 

“We have been trying to get Cousin Frodo to smile and tell him that he did the best he could,” said Merry, nudging Frodo.

“He is still quiet, so we will talk to you about our adventures, Faramir,” said Pippin. “Did we mention the Ents and the storming of Isengard?”

“Those were the days before the war started, wasn’t it Pip? Before you got in trouble with the palantir? I told you not to go near that.”

“And you go on about Ents again, Pippin- they must have been amazing to see?” asked Sam.

The palantir… Even the slight mention of that made  Faramir feel queasy and his heartbeat increased. The rest of the conversation suddenly felt far and muted. He had never heard the full story about his father even now. He was too busy thinking of how to rebuild the city, that he had never really thought about how his father became ensnared by the enemy or any of the details. He shuddered, a cold sweat forming on his brow. Did he really want to know the whole truth? Faramir had gathered bits and pieces from Gandalf, but he had never sat down to listen to the full tale. He was recovering, then busy with coronation planning and the recovery of the city. He did not mean to remain ignorant.

“Faramir?”

Frodo looked at Faramir’s pale face, his gray eyes seemingly unfocused or looking far away deep in thought. “Are you all right?”

Faramir needed to hear the full story. He knew Pippin knew. “I desire to know the full tale. Pippin - you were there during his last moments… How exactly did Denethor …die? Please tell me.”

Pippin looked uncomfortable and downright apologetic. He looked at Merry, at Sam and then at Frodo, then at Faramir. No words would come out at first since he felt so ill at ease. 

“I thought that Gandalf had told you,” murmured Pippin.

“No, no one has told me the full tale, just bits and pieces, and I need to know now,” said Faramir firmly. What good lay in denial of what had occurred? It was no use avoiding the truth. He anticipated the worst.

“You came back from the retreat and Lord Denethor thought that you were dead. He lost all hope. He ordered the men to bring you to Rath Dinen.  The city was under siege. He wanted …to… burn himself and you…. together,” said Pippin quickly with tears in his eyes. “We knew he used the palantir because he was different all throughout the time during the Siege, especially after you were brought back. He wasn’t in his right mind and no one could sway him to reconsider his choice. Gandalf tried too. Beregond left his post and in order to prevent Denethor from doing the deed, slew the porter. Gandalf tried …to tell Denethor not to destroy himself but was not ….not … successful.” Pippin finished and looked down at his toes, biting his lip to keep himself from crying. Merry put his arm on Pippin. The other hobbits looked sadly at Faramir with pity and concern.

It was interesting that his father wanted him to accompany in death. At least Denethor wanted them together. No wonder he saw fire in his dreams; now they made sense.  

“I thank you for telling me the truth. I am grateful, and I fully understand why you and Mithrandir thought it wise to wait. I also know now why I keep dreaming of fire. ” Faramir reassured him, even as his own heart was breaking anew. He put his hands towards his eyes, shielding the tears that were threatening to gather. 

“You have to be careful of the dreams,” said Merry. “I dream a lot too, especially after I struck that evil Witch-king and the dreams have a dark aspect to it,” Merry shuddered, as Frodo pulled him close.

“Is that right?” Faramir asked. 

“Weren't you not alright in Bree, Merry? After you ventured out and Nob found you face down in the puddle?” asked Sam.

“Yes, and Strider told me to be careful and report to him if the dreams reoccur. Lady Eowyn, Faramir, and I suffered from the Black Breath,” said Merry. “Strider pulled us back from death with athelas. I’m so glad he came in the nick of time.”

“Have any dreams been recurring, Merry?” asked Frodo.

“I am better since you all have recovered, but it was hard anticipating at the Houses of Healing, and waiting for you all to wake,” said Merry quietly. “Pippin was injured, you two were recovering from …Mordor,” said Merry softly. “It’s a relief; I’m better now.”

“How about you, Faramir?” asked Frodo.

Faramir evaded the question. “I’m glad you're better now, Merry. Now please pardon me,” 

Faramir hastily took his leave of the hobbits despite their reluctance for him to part from them. He could not shake the deep sadness from the news of how his father perished. His heart felt heavy. He needed to collect his thoughts to prevent himself from doing anything rash.

TBC