Conflict resolution, and an end to the chapter. We’re all friends now.
Frodo, now trusting Faramir, admits that their goal is to take the ring into Mordor, and destroy it in Mount Doom. Frodo, overcome, passes out. Faramir carries him to bed, and has another set for Sam, who tells Faramir that his choice not to meddle is the right one. Faramir reminds Sam of Gandalf, and it’s safe to say that that’s a great compliment.
If you’re comparing a near stranger to Gandalf, it’s quite clear that you’ve become friends. Unless Sam is throwing that around lightly (and we’ve noticed that his decision making isn’t the best sometimes), it’s very high praise for Faramir. For his part, Faramir has remarked that Frodo has a sort of elvish air about him, so the compliments have been mutual. He did also praise gardeners in the Shire earlier, so Sam gets a small piece, too.
We can all sleep now in peace, as friends. Friends are good. Hobbits are friends, not food.
Were they ever food?
No one dies today.
“‘Maybe you discern from far away the air of Númenor. Good night!’”