Ithryn Luin
That nonsensical title comes from my costume at the Halloween Masquerade Ball at Brothers of Gondor. I was "Blue Wizard" (okay, so Ithryn is wizards -- I'll look up the single tense of "blue" in my spare time)... and am still giggling at the number of people who thought I was Cressida -- including me, heh. The theme was "fear"
---
Fear, such as he had not felt for years, coiled in the Steward’s gut. He knew he held the future of all the Dúnedain in his hands. The Council would follow where he led.
Far away, in the scattered and disputed lands of Arnor, Malbeth the Seer declared, “. . . then much sorrow and many lives of men shall pass, until the Dúnedain arise and are united again.”
“Isildur relinquished Gondor to the heirs of Anárion,” Pelendur said slowly. “The heirs of Isildur have no claim, for they are not of Gondor.”
The councillors nodded, smiling. He knew that they, and all the Dúnedain of Gondor, were united in that regard.
“Only usurpers have ever claimed the throne through their wives.”
Tar-Míriel was in every mind and on many tongues. Nobody had forgotten, would ever forget, least of all Pelendur who woke with visions of the Fall in his eyes.
“The throne of Númenor should have been Míriel’s, and Vanimeldë’s, and Alcarin’s,” he said. “That is our only precedent. We have not forgotten Anducal and Ar-Pharazôn?”
“It is a time of war,” protested Hador of Anórien. “Eärnil, now -- ”
“Perhaps,” said the Lord of Dol Amroth dryly, “we might have better fortunes if our ruler does not ride to war. Certainly we would have more constant leadership.”
“We will make no answer to Arvedui’s claim,” declared Pelendur. “To carry on a protracted debate when the matter is already decided would be ridiculous. Only a direct descendant of Anárion through the male line may claim the throne. Are we agreed, gentlemen?”
Several weeks later, Pelendur knelt before the great throne. He could have said without hyperbole that he felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. But instead, he said,
“Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor, and to the Lord of the realm, to speak and to be silent, to do and to let be, to come and to go, in need or plenty, in peace or war, in living or dying, from this hour henceforth, until my lord release me, or death take me, or the world end. So say I, Pelendur son of Valandil, Steward of -- ” He could no longer say the High King with any sort of composure “-- Gondor.”
“And this do I hear, Fíriel daughter of Ondoher, Ruling Queen of Gondor, and I will not forget it, nor fail to reward that which is given: fealty with love, valour with honour, oath-breaking with vengeance . . .”
And Malbeth the Seer blinked in astonishment.
---
Fear, such as he had not felt for years, coiled in the Steward’s gut. He knew he held the future of all the Dúnedain in his hands. The Council would follow where he led.
Far away, in the scattered and disputed lands of Arnor, Malbeth the Seer declared, “. . . then much sorrow and many lives of men shall pass, until the Dúnedain arise and are united again.”
“Isildur relinquished Gondor to the heirs of Anárion,” Pelendur said slowly. “The heirs of Isildur have no claim, for they are not of Gondor.”
The councillors nodded, smiling. He knew that they, and all the Dúnedain of Gondor, were united in that regard.
“Only usurpers have ever claimed the throne through their wives.”
Tar-Míriel was in every mind and on many tongues. Nobody had forgotten, would ever forget, least of all Pelendur who woke with visions of the Fall in his eyes.
“The throne of Númenor should have been Míriel’s, and Vanimeldë’s, and Alcarin’s,” he said. “That is our only precedent. We have not forgotten Anducal and Ar-Pharazôn?”
“It is a time of war,” protested Hador of Anórien. “Eärnil, now -- ”
“Perhaps,” said the Lord of Dol Amroth dryly, “we might have better fortunes if our ruler does not ride to war. Certainly we would have more constant leadership.”
“We will make no answer to Arvedui’s claim,” declared Pelendur. “To carry on a protracted debate when the matter is already decided would be ridiculous. Only a direct descendant of Anárion through the male line may claim the throne. Are we agreed, gentlemen?”
Several weeks later, Pelendur knelt before the great throne. He could have said without hyperbole that he felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. But instead, he said,
“Here do I swear fealty and service to Gondor, and to the Lord of the realm, to speak and to be silent, to do and to let be, to come and to go, in need or plenty, in peace or war, in living or dying, from this hour henceforth, until my lord release me, or death take me, or the world end. So say I, Pelendur son of Valandil, Steward of -- ” He could no longer say the High King with any sort of composure “-- Gondor.”
“And this do I hear, Fíriel daughter of Ondoher, Ruling Queen of Gondor, and I will not forget it, nor fail to reward that which is given: fealty with love, valour with honour, oath-breaking with vengeance . . .”
And Malbeth the Seer blinked in astonishment.