Faramir was just another object like a palantir that he possessed that was going to the grave with him. Yes, that's a dark view, but it happens.

"But he himself went up alone into the secret room under the summit of the Tower; and many who looked up thither at that time saw a pale light that gleamed and flickered from the narrow windows for a while, and then flashed and went out. And when Denethor descended again he went to Faramir and sat beside him without speaking, but the face of the Lord was grey, more deathlike than his son's."- The Siege of Gondor, RotK

I would have things as they were in all the days of my life, and in the days of my longfathers before me: to be the Lord of this City in peace, and leave my chair to a son after me, who woudl be his own master and no wizard's pupil. But if doom denies this to me, then I will have naught; neither life diminished, nor love halved, nor honor abated."

A further point. In the talk to Swathmore College to which I've already referred, Tom Shippey says of Denethor:

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I only partly agree. I think it's certainly true that Gandalf has a hard time being the roving diplomat of Middle-earth because people want to protect their own borders and interests. Treebeard, who is not sure which side he is on because who is on his side? sums this up nicely. And, maybe fair enough: we should judge Denethor by how well he serves Gondor's interests, not how convenient he is for Gandalf or Aragorn.

But - as already explained - I think if we ask how well Denethor serves Gondor the answer is not so well. Not so badly as movie-Denethor. But I think we have to read the text against itself most determinedly to come to any conclusion other than that the Return of the King is in Gondor's best interests.

Aragorn has no emotional connection to his subjects though, and so doesn't mind. I'm reminded of how Sauron uses his Orcs.

I would not even dismiss the possibility that Elrond had fabricated the lineage for Aragorn. In fact, I think it rather likely.

Also, we only see the very beginnings of Aragorn's reign in any detail - the political honeymoon period. I think there is good reason to suspect that Aragorn wasn't such a great ruler after all, but the book ends where it does.

In Reply To

During his younger days of errantry as Thorongil, Aragorn served Gondor closely and faithfully. I have no doubt he was thoroughly invested, both emotionally and practically, in the people of Gondor.

In Reply To

I see nothing in JRRT's writings to support this theory. To the contrary, his stories often show us that such deceptions never end well.

In Reply To

The appendices indicate otherwise.

I think there was something major about Aragorn's original departure from Gondor that was passed over in the Appendices. I think the "my work is done" explanation makes no sense, as Aragorn would have been wanting to become the King even at that early time, and the major delays prevented him from getting to marry Arwen. Dropping out to gather more life experience doesn't make sense, as Denethor was younger than Thorongil and being a ranger in the North fails to teach many important skills for a king.

I think Aragorn must have originally slunk away from Gondor in total disgrace. His military theories could perhaps have failed exceptionally hard, or there could have been something worse, such as him murdering Ecthelion to seize the throne, but then Denethor came back, having turned a supposed suicide mission into a great victory, and put a stop to Aragorn's ambitions.

You neglect the fact that Aragorn was not in a position to wed Arwen when he left the service of Ecthelion II. It wasn't until much later in that year that the couple plighted their troth on the hill of Cerin Amroth, and it wasn't until well after that that Elrond challenged him to become the King of the Reunited Kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor.

It is also recorded that "Thorongil" was much respected in Gondor and the steward Ecthelion highly valued him. As Thorongil, Aragorn left after his great victory against the Corsairs of Umbar, having led an attack that destroyed much of their fleet. That is hardly slinking away in disgrace, total or otherwise.

“It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going, because they were holding on to something. That there is some good in this world, and it's worth fighting for.”

‘I should like to save the Shire, if I could – though there have been times when I thought the inhabitants too stupid and dull for words, and have felt that an earthquake or an invasion of dragons might be good for them. But I don’t feel like that now. I feel that as long as the Shire lies behind, safe and comfortable, I shall find wandering more bearable: I shall know that somewhere there is a firm foothold, even if my feet cannot stand there again.'

'But maybe when the One has gone, the Three will fail, and many fair things will fade and be forgotten. That is my belief.’

‘Yet all the Elves are willing to endure this chance,’ said Glorfindel, ‘if by it the power of Sauron may be broken, and the fear of his dominion be taken away for ever.’

Then there was a pause, and after it many swift scenes followed that Frodo in some way knew to be parts of a great history in which he had become involved.

‘They’ve taken everything, Sam,’ said Frodo. ‘Everything I had. Do you understand? Everything!’ He cowered on the floor again with bowed head, as his own words brought home to him the fullness of the disaster, and despair overwhelmed him. ‘The quest has failed, Sam. Even if we get out of here, we can’t escape. Only Elves can escape. Away, away out of Middle-earth, far away over the Sea. If even that is wide enough to keep the Shadow out.’

I believe Archive of Our Own would be a far more receptive forum for a Mirror Universe version of Tolkien. Most people on TORN embrace the optimism and wholesome values and ideals and aren't looking to subvert them.

Sam's song in Cirith Ungol while searching for Frodo makes it clear that good things may be remote from them, but that's what they're struggling for:

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In western lands beneath the Sun
the flowers may rise in Spring,
the trees may bud, the waters run,
the merry finches sing.
Or there maybe ‘tis cloudless night
and swaying beeches bear
the Elven-stars as jewels white
amid their branching hair.
Though here at journey’s end I lie
in darkness buried deep,
beyond all towers strong and high,
beyond all mountains steep,
above all shadows rides the Sun
and Stars for ever dwell:
I will not say the Day is done,
nor bid the Stars farewell.

>>> How do you not get the point of that song??? [Great song to go back to Elentari's OP.]

Then Frodo is rescued by Sam: in prison, tortured, beaten, naked, robbed, and without his precious Ring. But his concern isn't about duty, it's about evil conquering the world. This is blunt.

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He stood among a crowd at Dromahair;
His heart hung all upon a silken dress,
And he had known at last some tenderness,
Before earth took him to her stony care;
But when a man poured fish into a pile,
It Seemed they raised their little silver heads,
And sang what gold morning or evening sheds
Upon a woven world-forgotten isle
Where people love beside the ravelled seas;
That Time can never mar a lover's vows
Under that woven changeless roof of boughs:
The singing shook him out of his new ease.
He wandered by the sands of Lissadell;
His mind ran all on money cares and fears,
And he had known at last some prudent years
Before they heaped his grave under the hill;
But while he passed before a plashy place,
A lug-worm with its grey and muddy mouth
Sang that somewhere to north or west or south
There dwelt a gay, exulting, gentle race
Under the golden or the silver skies;
That if a dancer stayed his hungry foot
It seemed the sun and moon were in the fruit:
And at that singing he was no more wise.
He mused beside the well of Scanavin,
He mused upon his mockers: without fail
His sudden vengeance were a country tale,
When earthy night had drunk his body in;
But one small knot-grass growing by the pool
Sang where -- unnecessary cruel voice --
Old silence bids its chosen race rejoice,
Whatever ravelled waters rise and fall
Or stormy silver fret the gold of day,
And midnight there enfold them like a fleece
And lover there by lover be at peace.
The tale drove his fine angry mood away.
He slept under the hill of Lugnagall;
And might have known at last unhaunted sleep
Under that cold and vapour-turbaned steep,
Now that the earth had taken man and all:
Did not the worms that spired about his bones
proclaim with that unwearied, reedy cry
That God has laid His fingers on the sky,
That from those fingers glittering summer runs
Upon the dancer by the dreamless wave.
Why should those lovers that no lovers miss
Dream, until God burn Nature with a kiss?
The man has found no comfort in the grave.