"War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory." (pg. 355).Faramir at this moment becomes I think a mouth-piece for Tolkien's own attitudes towards war; it feels a companion piece to the contemporaneous "Helm's Deep," which, as we previously discussed, likewise considers war to be an inglorious slog, no matter how just the cause. "Helm's Deep" shows it, while "The Window of the West" is the commentary, it seems. Tolkien seems intent on ensuring that his fellow Englishmen do not learn the wrong lessons from WWII.
Yet overall, this chapter overall feels an odd one to parse; in terms of modes for providing info-dumps and back-story, I can think of worse vehicles than an interrogation of world-weary Frodo by enigmatic Faramir (already one of the most likable, intriguing, and fleshed-out new characters we've met in awhile). Really, the verbal chess match between Frodo and Faramir, two fundamentally decent men who nonetheless have strong reason to distrust each other, is the highlight of the chapter; theirs is an oddly noble form of conversational combat, such that when Frodo ultimately loses thanks to Samwise running is big fat mouth off about Boromir and the One Ring at the end, it still doesn't feel quite like a defeat. Quite the contrary, it appears to seal the bond between the two men.
It would seem that Frodo has at last, however briefly, found a kindred spirit who can, in his way, understand what it means to resist the awful temptation of the Ring as he, and that is no small thing (no offense to Sam, but he feels the perennial outsider looking in with all things Ring related; he can love and serve Frodo, but that is not the same as understanding him). It appears that it takes a genuine love of freedom and people, along with a real abhorrence for war and destruction, to refuse the power that the Ring represents.
Nevertheless, so much of what Frodo and Faramir discuss here are things that we've already read ourselves just a short while ago. All this needless rehashing and review was a problem that plagued Book III as well, what with characters recounting the time they last recounted things that they already recounted about, in an irritatingly recursive fashion. This chapter could've definitely used a pruning.
As for locus of their conversation, Boromir: once again, the son of Denethor is more interesting in death than he ever was in life. A cipher much like most the Fellowship throughout Book II, we get a much fuller feel for the complexity of the man in Frodo and Faramir's eulogies and note-swapping, than we ever got when he was still walking amongst the living. It would appear that I was wrong to assume that Tolkien was in a rush to push Boromir off the stage at the start of Two Towers; it wasn't that Tolkien didn't particularly feel like eulogizing him, but rather that Tolkien knew that Boromir would be back, and what's more, would be even more influential dead than alive.
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