Faramir too could be happy here of a sort, and perhaps half an hour passes pleasantly as they discuss tales found and stories told. Faramir recommends a particular book of poetry he has found here, by one named John Donne; Eldinn recites softly in Quenya, and Faramir stands transfixed by the beauty of his voice, the rhythm of the syllables.

Eventually they find their way to a garden, and Faramir's heart lifts as he turns his face to the daylight. "I am glad, at least, that our cage is not wholly indoors," he says softly. "Much would I miss the sun!"