[That softness is not lost on him, but Faramir is not certain how to feel about it. It is not something he is comfortable in; it comes too close to pity, and pity to failure, for it is the duty of a lord and of a captain not to be too openly pitiful. Too readily does he remember his father's last words to him, and all that lay beneath them: too readily does the accusation of softness come to mind.]

[He elects not to acknowledge it, but instead mutters darkly:] If we still live.

[Pessimistic, indeed.]

But you speak truly enough, and well enough; darkness and uncertainty are better faced in company. Ill would I spurn friendship, now most of all.

I thought I saw a light, some moments ago. It may give us a bearing, at least.