The Gift of Dawn
The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate. No profit has been,nor will be made from these stories.
The Gift of Dawn
With grateful thanks to Raksha.
“Wake up, ion nîn!” Aragorn called, gently shaking the sleeping child.
“Ada? Why are you waking me?” Eldarion sat up. “It is still dark.”
“I want to show you something. Dress quickly, there is no need to wash or comb your hair.”
Eldarion beamed. The washing of his ears, face and hands by his insistent nanny was a morning chore he would gladly avoid. Eldarion scrambled out of bed and pulled on the clothes his father held out to him. Aragorn helped him fasten the laces in the dim light of a single candle.
The King took his son by the hand and led him through the halls of wood and stone, where the royal family were spending a few pleasant days with the Prince and Princess of Ithilien. They passed a few guards, and a bleary-eyed maidservant beginning chores in the kitchens; but most of the great house was still and silent.
“Where are we going, ada?” asked Eldarion.
“To the stables, for Iavas has given birth to her foal,” his father told him, leading the little boy outside to the spacious and comfortable building where the horses were kept.
Lamps illuminated the end stall. Faramir and Éowyn stood in the shadows, keeping a watch over Faramir’s chestnut mare.
Iavas stood over a small foal whose coat was still damp from birth. The delivery had been difficult, keeping Éowyn and Faramir from their beds for most of the night. Aragorn had kept watch with the Prince and Princess, using his healing hands to calm the mare. Like her mother, the foal was chestnut with a white blaze. The infant had already tried twice to rise on her slender, wobbly legs; but had not yet managed to stand.
Still holding Eldarion’s hand, Aragorn petted the foal’s head, “ Come now, you can do it!” the King coaxed the newborn, then stood back.
The foal whickered, then began to rise, the long legs trembling with the effort until she stood up on them. She did not fall! Eldarion watched in wonder as the little animal tottered to her mother’s side. Iavas nuzzled her baby affectionately.
“She is beautiful!” Eldarion exclaimed. ”What is her name?”
“You may choose, for she is to be your horse once you are both old enough,” said Faramir. “We thought it was worth waking you early to see her stand for the first time.”
Eldarion’s face lit up. He rushed to hug the Steward. “Thank you, Uncle Faramir, I think I will call her Amaurea, since ada woke me so early to greet her. How clever she is to be able to walk so soon! My sister couldn’t walk till she was a year old!”
“Horses grow up quickly, like kittens and puppies,” Aragorn explained.
“I wish I could grow up so quickly!” Eldarion lamented. “Then I would be tall and strong like you, ada, and a Ranger, and I wouldn’t need any more lessons!”
Faramir chuckled.
"You would have to take many lessons to become a Ranger," his father told Eldarion solemnly. "You would have little time to play."
Eldarion frowned, considering the information.
"I will take you back inside now,” said Aragorn. "Iavas should have some peace and quiet while she gives Amaurea her breakfast.”
The boy cast a final thrilled glance at his new treasure, who was now greedily suckling her mother's milk.
Eldarion felt like he was walking on air as he accompanied his father back to the house. The sun rose in the Eastern horizon, promising a glorious day.
A/N
"Amaurea" means “Early Day” in Quenya. Iavas is Faramir’s chestnut mare, a wedding gift from Éomer .She was introduced in “Shadow and Thought”.
Partners in crime
Aragorn grimly surveyed the scene of chaos. The trade agreement on which he had laboured all morning was scattered across the floor, the parchment torn to shreds.
Eldarion’s puppy, Nimrodel stood beside Aragorn's desk, wagging her tail.
Aragorn called a servant and bade her summon his son.
A few minutes later Eldarion arrived. “You wanted to see me, ada?” he asked innocently. “ Ah, there is Nimrodel; I could not find her!” The puppy ran to him and licked his hand.
“And how did she come to be in my study?” Aragorn asked severely.
“Um, maybe the door was open,” Eldarion said evasively. He looked down, unable to meet his father’s stern gaze.
“A dog cannot open a closed door,” said Aragorn. “Look at me, Eldarion! There is nought to gain by studying your feet.”
“She must um have um followed me in here. I wanted to look at your model soldiers.” He gestured towards a collection of ornate bejewelled warriors that a visiting envoy had given his father.
“I have told you are not allowed in my study without permission,” said Aragorn. “ Just look at all the damage the pup has done! An important treaty – ruined!”
“Bad, bad dog!” Eldarion shouted at Nimrodel. The puppy whined and her tail drooped between her legs.
“You should not blame her,” Aragorn admonished his son.
“She chewed up your papers,” Eldarion replied, a trifle sulkily.
“Puppies do chew things, it is their nature,” said the King. ”However, if you had not disobeyed me by coming in here, you would not have led Nimrodel into trouble. Take her outside, then return and I will decide best how to punish you.”
“I am sorry, ada.” Eldarion blinked away a tear. He led Nimrodel from the room, his eyes downcast. It was hard to tell whether boy or pup looked guiltier.
Just then Faramir arrived, a parchment tucked under his arm. ”Whatever has happened here?” the Steward asked in dismay.
“Nimrodel decided to chew up the trade treaty with Rhûn,” Aragorn told him.” I had just spent three hours working on it.
“Maybe she is too high-spirited a pup for the Citadel,” Faramir lamented. "I regret not having chosen a quieter pup for the lad, but Nimrodel was the fairest and strongest of the litter."
“We would not be without her, mellon nîn, so do not blame yourself. She is a good-natured creature, just mischievous, as all younglings are. But what brings you here? I thought you were occupied with the City renovations today.”
“I am, but I thought of some new details to add to the treaty.” Faramir spread his parchment on the King’s desk. Aragorn perused it carefully. His features slowly relaxed into a smile.
“This treaty is far better worded than the one Nimrodel chewed!” the King beamed, clapping Faramir on the shoulder affectionately.
A few minutes later, Eldarion returned in a state of growing apprehension. “What is your will, ada?” he asked.
“Do I have your word you will not come in here without permission again?”
“Yes, ada, I promise.”
“I want you to sweep up this mess,” Aragorn said sternly. Then he smiled. ”Later, if you do it well, I will tell you the story of Huan, the greatest hound ever to live.
“Thank you ada!” Eldarion embraced his father then gladly set to work.
Outside in her kennel, as if sensing the young Prince’s relief, Nimrodel wagged her tail.
Morning has broken like the first morning,
blackbird has spoken like the first bird.
Praise for the singing! Praise for the morning!
Praise for them, springing, fresh from the Word! - Eleanor Farjeon (1881–1965)
Aragorn rose silently from the bed so as not to disturb his sleeping wife. He stood for a moment looking down at her in the pale light of dawn, which streamed through the window.
Her beauty always made him catch his breath. Now with her cheeks were slightly flushed with sleep, framed by her flowing dark hair, black against her white nightgown and the pillow, Arwen looked fairer than ever. He was a privileged man indeed to have her to wife. Sometimes, he could hardly believe his good fortune that he was free to awaken every day beside her.
He crept into the adjacent dressing room, almost stubbing his bare toe on the washstand as he did so. Faramir’s home in Ithilien was still relatively unfamiliar to him; as was the freedom it offered to escape briefly from his royal duties.
Quickly, he splashed water on his hands and face then changed out of his night attire, donning his oldest riding clothes. He paused to kiss his wife lightly on the cheek. Arwen stirred slightly, smiling in her sleep. Aragorn tiptoed softly from the room.
The kitchen was already a hive of activity. A young maidservant brought a mug of ale and a plate of bread and cheese at his request, looking only slightly surprised when he elected to sit and eat it at the kitchen table.
A few minutes later Éowyn appeared, accompanied by a bleary- eyed Faramir. The servants seemed accustomed to seeing their lady at this hour, less so their lord. Aragorn rose to embrace his friends.
“I often ride at dawn, unlike my sleepy husband,” said Éowyn, taking a bite of crusty bread, still warm from the oven. “I breakfast here in the kitchen as I did in Meduseld. It is the warmest place to be at dawn.”
“It promises to be another hot day,” said Aragorn. ”I am glad we are riding before the sun is too high in the sky.”
”A pity the Queen does not wish to join us,” Faramir lamented. ”She has told me she loves the countryside.”
“My beloved Undómiel prefers the evening,” said the King. ”She will just about be ready to eat breakfast when we return. I hope to ride with her under the stars one night while we are here.”
“It will be evening today ere we set out if we do not hurry,” said Éowyn, tapping her foot impatiently, having already finished her makeshift breakfast.
The three friends made their way to the stables, where dismissing the grooms, they saddled their own mounts.
They rode across the lush countryside, east into the sunrise. Like a blood red ruby, the sun crept above the horizon painting the sky in glorious hues of pink and mauve. The dew sparkled on the grass and the air felt fresh and sweet.
The breeze blew Aragorn’s hair behind him as he rode. He laughed out loud for sheer joy. On a morning such as this, the ranger in him could leave the King's cares behind and take pleasure in the bright clear dawn, if only for a little while. It was enough.
All through the Night
While the moon her watch is keeping
All through the night
While the weary world is sleeping
All through the night
O'er thy spirit gently stealing
Visions of delight revealing
Breathes a pure and holy feeling
All through the night. -Harold Boulton
With thanks to Raksha.
Dedicated to Julia
Aragorn and Arwen fondly surveyed their sleeping son.
“He grows more like you every day, Estel,” said Arwen contentedly; observing, beneath the roundness of the sleeping baby's face, the hint of the father’s high cheekbones and strong chin.
“At least he has your nose, vanimelda,” the King replied dryly. “Are you ready to leave now?”
“I hope Eldarion will not be afraid if he awakens and we are not there,” Arwen fretted. "He is not accustomed to being in Ithilien. Everything will still be strange to him.”
“He has his nurse and knows Faramir and Éowyn. They will take good care of him,” Aragorn reassured her.
The Queen pressed a final gentle kiss to her son’s forehead before following her husband outside to the stables where their horses were already saddled, awaiting their riders.
The full moon bathed the countryside in a gentle silver light. The clear sky was dotted with a myriad of twinkling stars.
“How fair the stars are here!” Arwen exclaimed. “They always seem slightly veiled in the City.”
They urged their horses forward, savouring the feel of the wind in their hair. The fresh night breeze carried the sweet scent of wild roses.
Aragorn led the way uphill until they came to a stream he had seen with Faramir and Éowyn that morning. It rippled over the rocks before cascading down the hillside.
“How beautiful! The water is sweet music to my ears!” Arwen exclaimed, dismounting from her horse and kneeling beside the stream. ”It reminds me of Imladris. I could hear the waterfall every morning when I awoke.”
“Do you miss your home?” Aragorn enquired anxiously, joining her by the bank.
“You and Eldarion are my home now,” she replied, kissing him tenderly on the lips. “As the long years passed, my heart remained untouched, I feared that I might never know the bliss of marriage and motherhood. Then when I saw you in Lothlórien my heart was changed . At last, I knew hope.” She looked up at the stars. “See how our forefather, Eärendil smiles down upon us tonight!”
The horses cropped the fresh grass while Aragorn drew Arwen in a close embrace, whispering soft words of love in her ear.
A mother badger and her cubs emerged from their set amongst the trees, oblivious of the two-legged interlopers. The mother and the little ones drank from the stream. Then the cubs started to play, chasing and tumbling on the bank. The King and Queen of the West watched the badger family, entranced, until an owl's hoot caused the mother to hurry her brood back to their den.
Long they sat there, watching the stars and listening to the sweet song of the nightingale.
Let Sleeping Kings Lie
With thanks to Raksha, Deandra and Julia
Released early from his lessons because his tutor was unwell, a bored Eldarion made his way to his father’s study. Ada had said he was working on some dull but important documents.Maybe he could be persuaded, instead, to play a game for a little while, with the collection of model soldiers that Eldarion so liked. The brightly coloured and bejewelled models, a gift from a visiting ambassador, held a great fascination for the young prince. Ada had confided in him that playing with model soldiers was much more fun than working even when you were very old, as his father undoubtedly was.
Eldarion passed the guard at the end of the corridor, who smiled and greeted him.
The boy tapped on the door of the study, but received no reply. Strange, for he was certain ada was planning to spend all afternoon working there. He listened carefully. A strange and raucous sound suddenly emanated from the room.
Although he was forbidden to enter without permission, Eldarion opened the door.
Aragorn was slumped back in his chair with his mouth wide open, snoring loudly, his papers scattered around him.
Eldarion was about to creep quietly away when his little sister, having escaped the care of her nurse, toddled past him through the open door and ran to her father. She was clutching a doll almost as big as herself.
“Ada, look at my dolly, she has a pretty pink bonnet and shawl!” Farawyn cried. (
Aragorn’s only reply was an especially loud snore, which made both children jump.
“What is wrong with ada?” Farawyn asked, her lower lip trembling.
“He is just asleep,” her brother replied. “We must not wake him or he might be cross with us as we are not supposed to be in here.”
“I will leave dolly’s new bonnet and shawl for him to see,” said Farawyn. “They will keep him warm. Naneth says people get cold if they fall asleep without a cover over them.”
The children tiptoed from the room, quietly closing the door behind them.
***
A little later, the Queen went in search of her husband. “Will you have tea with me, my love?” she asked brightly as she entered the room. She then caught sight of Aragorn and burst out laughing. Stifling her mirth, she hurried off in the direction of Faramir’s study.
The Steward was engrossed in a document on grain tariffs when Arwen entered his room.
“Faramir, you must come with me at once to Estel!” Arwen demanded.
“My lady! Is the King unwell?” Faramir asked anxiously, springing to his feet.
“No, nothing is wrong. I just want you to come and see him,” Arwen replied laughing at the very thought of what she had just witnessed.
Queen and Steward made their way to the King’s study, where they both stood, shaking with mirth.
“I wonder how many flies he has caught? Or has the colour of that shawl frightened them away?” Arwen giggled.
“We should wake him,” said Faramir. ”What if the servants come in?”
“Dolly is cold and wants her bonnet and shawl back!” announced the Farawyn, running into the room.
“Lady Farawyn, come here!” called the little girl’s nurse from along the corridor.
Arwen rushed out and called to the servant. “I will look after my daughter now. You may go Miriel.”
“Yes, my lady,” said the nurse curtsying. She disappeared in the direction from which she had come.
Arwen returned to the study just in time to see her daughter remove the doll's frilly bonnet from Aragorn’s head and bright pink shawl from his chest. The little girl then kissed her father.
Aragorn blinked and open his eyes. ”What is the matter?” he asked a trifle tetchily.
“You were snoring when I came to ask you if you would take tea with me,” said Arwen sweetly. “Faramir is invited too.”
“I do not snore!” said the King. “Ada does not snore, Farawyn.”
“Dolly snores then, “said Farawyn wrapping the pink shawl around her plaything.
Unable to feel out of sorts any longer, Aragorn picked up his little daughter and hugged her. "Bring dolly to tea, there might be some of her favourite cakes to eat," the King said, smiling.
"Girls!" snorted Eldarion.
Queen and Steward smiled at each other. The afternoon’s entertainment had been most amusing.
Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, - Congreve.
“How could you, Estel?” Arwen demanded the moment Aragorn entered her sitting room. The Queen’s beautiful face was alight with fury. Beside her, stood an equally irate Éowyn.
“I am sorry, vanimelda. The council meeting went on longer than we expected. Prince Imrahil wanted to discuss the coastal fortifications after the debate on trade was over. I completely forgot we planned to take the children to see the jugglers, as did Faramir.”
“This is the third time this month you have both forgotten a promise you made,” Éowyn said sternly. “I suggest you tell Faramir that if he wants company this evening, he can stay with you. I am remaining here with the Queen.”
“As for you, Estel, I have no wish for your company at supper tonight. You can dine alone in your chambers,” Arwen said haughtily. “ Eldarion and Elestelle were very upset that their fathers were not there to take them out as you promised.”
“I am sorry,” Aragorn repeated. ”I did not wish to cause pain to you or the children. Next time, I will insist the meeting concludes at the proper time.”
“You promised me that last time,” Arwen said coldly, unmoved by her husband’s attempts to apologise.
Knowing it was pointless to argue with either lady when they were so angry, a crestfallen Aragorn went in search of his Steward. He found Faramir sitting in his apartments looking equally despondent, having found an irate letter left for him by his angry wife.
“Arwen is as angry as your lady,” Aragorn explained. “She told me to seek your company and dine in my own rooms with you tonight and no doubt sleep there too!”
“Éowyn bids me do the same,” said Faramir. He glumly followed the King to his chambers.
The two men found Aragorn’s rooms to be cold and uninviting. The King only used them occasionally and the servants had had no time to prepare them for his use. It took only a moment for both men to decide to seek solace in a tavern on one of the lower levels.
“It is good for a King to mix freely with his people and learn their needs,” said Aragorn, by way of excuse. He rummaged amongst his clothing for old cloaks and tunics for himself and Faramir.
“Indeed so,” said Faramir “Our wives can hardly complain since they deny us their company tonight! The Silver Crown usually has good ale and a warm fire to sit by. I used to go there sometimes with Boromir when we were both off duty.”
000
The two men were soon sitting in the cosy inn in the sixth circle, their hoods drawn around their faces to avoid recognition. They sipped a mug of ale apiece, wondering why the tavern was so packed that night.
“Have you come to hear Minohtar play?” asked the innkeeper, bringing them a plate of crusty bread and cheeses.
Aragorn and Faramir merely nodded, not wanting to betray their ignorance of the name.
A hush fell over the gathering, when in the far corner; a man picked up a lute and began to sing. His voice was unexceptional in contrast to his skills with the instrument. The haunting song of love and longing he played, brought tears to the listeners’ eyes. He next performed a familiar ballad, which most of the people joined in with, including Aragorn and Faramir.
“You two have fine voices,” said a serving girl, coming to refill their glasses. “No woman could resist either of you, were you serenade her!”
Aragorn snorted.
“That could be a good idea,” Faramir said thoughtfully, tossing the girl a coin for the ale.
“Why not? We could but try!” said the King, draining his glass and feeling somewhat more confident. "Maybe Arwen will recall how I was singing the Lay of Lúthien on the day we first met?"
King and Steward hurried back to the Citadel and positioned themselves outside Arwen’s sitting room window and began to sing.
“ O, thou my glorious Evenstar, I have always gladly greeted you. This heart has never betrayed you!” sang Aragorn’s rich bass voice in Quenya, so that the servants would not understand.
“Éowyn, fairer than the sun, glad was I when your hand I won!” sang Faramir in Rohirric; his warm baritone blending nicely with Aragorn’s deeper voice.
The servants hovered around, enjoying the impromptu concert.
Suddenly the door opened and Arwen appeared. “You are just in time to read Eldarion a bedtime story,” she said smiling and kissing her husband’s cheek. “Faramir, Éowyn is just coming.”
Aragorn embraced his wife. ”Will you forgive me, beloved?” he asked.
Arwen’s tender kiss to his lips was the only answer he needed.
King and Steward exchanged relieved glances as they bade one another goodnight.
000
Faramir carried Elestelle in his arms as he walked back to his apartments with his wife.
“I wish you would sing for us more often,” said Éowyn. ”You have a beautiful voice, which I love to hear.”
The Steward at once began a lullaby for his daughter. The little girl listened entranced then fell soundly asleep.
“That is amazing!” exclaimed Éowyn. “She has been fretful all evening.”
“It is said that the Valar created Arda itself from music. So maybe magic is indeed contained in a song?” Faramir mused.
“Only if the singer has sufficient skill,” said Éowyn, smiling at her husband.
A/N. Aragorn’s song is from Wagner’s Tannhäuser.
Winter Wonderland
With thanks to Raksha and Deandra
When it snows, ain't it thrilling,
Though your nose gets a chilling
We'll frolic and play, the Eskimo way,
walking in a winter wonderland. – Smith and Barnard
One cold winter’s morning and the King and Queen of the Reunited Kingdom lay curled in each other’s arms, loth to leave their warm bed. For once, Aragorn had no official duties until the afternoon and could rise at a leisurely pace.
“The baby is kicking,” said Arwen, referring to the child she was expecting in a few weeks’ time. “Eldarion will have a lively playmate!”
“How blessed I am to have you, our son and another little one soon,” said Aragorn kissing her tenderly.
“I hope we can fill our home with children to share our love with,” said Arwen.
A tap came on their bedroom door disturbing their peace.
“My lord, my lady!” a servant called. “Prince Eldarion is upset and his nurse requests that you come.”
Aragorn slid out of bed, pulling a thick robe over his nightshirt. “You stay there, my love, “ he said. “ I will fetch our son to us.”
Aragorn found his four-year-old son kicking and screaming in the hands of his nurse.
“What is the meaning of this, ion-nîn?” the King asked sternly.
“I want to go out and play in the snow and nanny won’t let me!” Eldarion raged. “It isn’t fair! I’ve never seen snow before and I don't want to stay in bed! I won't!" He stomped a bare foot defiantly.
“I deemed it unwise to expose the Prince to such weather this soon after a cold,” the woman replied in a weary voice. Mistress Idril had joined the household three months past, after Eldarion's beloved first nanny had grown too old and frail to keep up with the child. It seemed this woman, the sister of the governess of Hurin's grand-daughters, was not up to the task either, though she was but in her middle years.
“Come here, Eldarion! “ Aragorn ordered. His heir shuffled over to him, small hands clenched into fists. Aragorn placed his hand on the boy’s forehead. "Hmm, he seems well enough. Has he coughed or sneezed this morning?”
“No, my lord, not since last Tuesday,” said the nanny.
“Some fresh air should do him good then so long as he is warmly dressed, “ Aragorn said briskly. “Eldarion, tell Mistress Idril that you are sorry and then I will take you outside after breakfast.” He decided to discuss with Arwen whether it was time to find a nanny better able to control her young charge’s temper and less eager to mollycoddle him. He had no desire for his heir to grow up wilful and over cosseted.
“I am sorry,” Eldarion said obediently with a polite bow.
“I will take him to his mother now,” said the King.
Aragorn swept up the child in his arms and carried him back to the bedchamber where a somewhat anxious Arwen awaited them.
“What ails him? Is he ill?” the Queen enquired, putting her arms around her young son when Aragorn placed him in the bed between them. “What is wrong, ion nîn?” she enquired of Eldarion.
“I’m going to see the snow!” the boy exclaimed joyfully. “Nanny would let me go out but ada says I can!”
Aragorn laughed. “His nanny feared it would be bad for his health, but snow never did me any harm as a boy. It seems wondrous when you are young, but not when you have to travel long distances in it,“ he said. “You were just a baby the last time it snowed in Gondor. It used to snow every winter in the North where naneth and I grew up.”
“What is snow made of?” Eldarion asked.
“It is frozen rain. Water turns to ice when it is very cold,” Arwen explained.
“You can play lots of special games in the snow,” said the King. ”I will show you as soon as we have dressed and eaten our breakfast.”
Eldarion beamed. It was not often his father had time to spend the morning with him
**
After breakfast, Aragorn and Eldarion, both warmly clothed, went outside into the Royal Family’s private gardens. The sun was now shining and the white covered garden looked quite magical. The snow shimmered like diamonds in the winter sunshine.
Clutching tightly to his father’s hand, Eldarion walked through the snow as gingerly as a cat that disliked getting its feet wet. The young Prince was somewhat reassured when he found he could walk on it without falling. His father scooped some of the snow up to reveal that underneath; the grass was still there.
“When I was your age, I loved the snow,“ Aragorn told his son. "Sometimes I would be excused lessons and allowed to play outside making snowballs."
“What is a snowball?” asked Eldarion.
“I will show you.” The King formed a handful of snow into a ball and threw it at a tree. Rather wistfully, he recalled all the times when as a grown man, he had gained a respite from his cares as Chieftain by engaging in a lively snowball fight with Halbarad. He missed his friend and kinsman still, though Faramir had filled the yawning gap left in his heart. He could hardly engage in a snowball fight with his Steward, though. There were always watching eyes and wagging tongues ever on the look out for behaviour considered unseemly for a King or a Steward in Gondor. He only dared to be less than regal during his times away from the Citadel. He missed the simplicity of the North with its lack of stifling court etiquette.
Just then, Faramir and his daughter Elestelle joined them in response to a message Aragorn had sent. The Steward and his family were staying in the Citadel for the Mettarë celebrations. Elestelle ran towards Aragorn. He scooped her up in his arms and hugged her. The little girl smiled happily, looking delightful in a blue fur trimmed cloak.
Eldarion scowled. ”Girls!” he muttered under his breath.
Aragorn put Elestelle down and turned to speak to Faramir.
The moment his father’s back was turned, Eldarion scooped up the snow as his father had shown him and hurled it at Elestelle’s back. It hit her on the shoulder and splattered all over her pretty cloak. Elestelle’s lower lip trembled, but she maintained a composure worthy of a daughter of two great Houses.
“Boys!” she said with all the scorn she could muster.
“Eldarion!” chided his father, “That was very naughty of you. We shall return indoors if you do not behave!”
“I just wanted to play,” said Eldarion. ”I’m sorry, ada.”
“You told me of making a snowman in your youth, mellon nîn,” Faramir said to the King. “ Could we make one with our children?”
“An excellent idea!” enthused the King and set to work with a will on the body, helped by his son, while Faramir and his daughter made the head. Both children worked happily, their earlier quarrel quickly forgotten
The fathers then took their children to the kitchens to ask the servants for coal and a carrot. The little ones watched wide-eyed as their fathers gave the snowman eyes, a nose and a mouth. They then gathered twigs to make him some arms.
“Doesn’t he need clothes to keep him warm?” asked Elestelle.
“He has to be cold or he will melt and turn back into water,” Faramir explained.
“Poor snowman!” said Elestelle sadly.
Aragorn and Faramir exchanged glances. It was maybe time to take the children back indoors before they became too attached to their snowman that would most likely be melted by the morrow.
Just then, an older girl came running towards them. It was Faramir’s niece. “Uncle Faramir, Strider!” Elbeth exclaimed. “ Aunt Éowyn said I might miss a Quenya lesson and play in the snow for a while. Their Nurses are waiting for Eldarion and Elestelle with hot milk and buns.”
The younger children made only token protests at being taken back indoors. Their hands, feet and noses were starting to feel cold.
While the two men were absent, Elbeth made two snowballs then concealed herself behind the snowman.
As soon as the King and Steward came into sight, she hurled snowballs in quick succession at them, hitting both with deadly accuracy.
“Elbeth!” exclaimed Faramir, slightly winded from the impact of the snowball.
“This calls for revenge!” Aragorn exclaimed, hurling a snowball back at Elbeth. She ducked and successfully avoided it. Grabbing another handful of snow, she threw another at the King. This time he dodged it and it hit Faramir instead.
All thoughts of decorum forgotten, the two men replied in kind. A fierce snowball fight was soon in progress as they strove to hurl snowballs at Elbeth and each other.
From an upstairs window, Arwen watched smiling as the three outside frolicked in the snow as if they were all as young as Elbeth. It seemed that even Kings and Stewards remained little boys at heart.”You will be born into a happy home,” she whispered tenderly to her unborn child.
More Haste, less speed
with thanks to Raksha
“How I long to see Arwen and Eldarion again!” Aragorn exclaimed to Faramir as the two men rode abreast through the lower levels of the City. They had been away from Minas Tirith for several days touring the outlying fiefdoms. After what had seemed endless sessions of attending feasts in their honour and judging petty grievances, they were glad to be home again.
“I can hardly wait to see Éowyn, Elestelle and Elbeth,” Faramir said longingly, wishing it had been possible to ride through the City unrecognised, but knowing it was impossible when followed by their guards. He paused to smilingly accept a bunch of flowers offered by an old woman. Meanwhile, a man lifted up a child to see Aragorn and receive the King’s blessing.
They had reached the market, which was even more crowded than the rest of the City with citizens milling around the varied array of stalls.
“It is good to see the market flourishing,” Faramir said in a tone loud enough for the surrounding people to hear, knowing some comment was expected of him.
Aragorn forced himself to smile at his subjects, ardently wishing it were not a market day so that they could travel at a faster pace. A sudden thought struck him. He had returned without suitable gifts for his wife and child! King and Steward had been showered with hand woven blankets, baskets and gifts of delicacies, but none of those would delight either Arwen or Eldarion.
His eye was caught by a stall a few paces ahead, which sold colourful jewellery and trinkets.
“I need to buy a gift for Arwen. Maybe this stall will have something she would like?” Aragorn remarked to his Steward.
“I bought new saddles for Éowyn and Elbeth in Lamedon and a doll for Elestelle,” Faramir said rather smugly, dismounting together with his King. “It was while you were healing a child with a fever.”
“My Lord King and my Lord Steward!” The stallholder bowed low, his eyes alight with awe and joy. “This is a great honour indeed, that you should visit my humble stall. What may I show you? I have amethyst and topaz, tourmaline and tiger’s eye, agate and amber, rose quartz and...”
“I will take this, please.” Aragorn gestured towards a pretty necklace of roughly polished amethysts. Arwen had fairer jewels by far, but he felt she would like these simple, colourful stones that many of the common folk of Gondor wore. His keen eyes scanned the stall for a gift for Eldarion. He spotted some carvings of horses in an onyx type mineral. ”I should also like one of the model horses.”
“They are yours,” smiled the stallholder. “They are far from my best pieces, though. I keep those under the counter in case of thieves.
Before Aragorn could say anything, the man had dived under the stall and started rummaging in some boxes.
“See, I have some river pearl necklaces,” said the merchant placing them on the stall. He disappeared under it again. “And silver bracelets.”
“They are very nice but I just..” The trader had vanished under his stall again before Aragorn could finish his sentence. The King struggled to hide his impatience, not wanting to hurt the man’s feelings. Beside him, Faramir tapped his foot.
“I have some silver brooches carved, I believe, by Dwarves here somewhere,” said the man. “If you would just wait one moment.” He pulled out another box and looked inside.
“Not today, thank you, good merchant,” Aragorn said in desperation as about forty brooches of dubious workmanship were presented for his inspection. ”How much do I owe you for the necklace and the horse?”
“They are a gift, my Lord King,” said the trader. “I require no payment. They are but trinkets!”
Aragorn knew to refuse would be an insult.
“Thank you,” he smiled. ”I will take this too.” He selected the nearest brooch, wanting to give the man some money for his wares. His shabby clothing suggested he did not earn a great deal selling his simple jewellery. The wealthy people of Minas Tirith had somewhat more elaborate tastes.
“But my, lord, that one is far from being the fairest! “ the merchant protested. “How about this brooch set with a sapphire, or this one inlaid with pearl?”
“I will take the pearl one,” Aragorn said firmly.
“You have not yet seen my finest necklaces,” the trader said eagerly. “I have some designs inspired by Elven-craft.”
“I am sure they are beautiful,” Aragorn said tactfully. He espied a tiger’s eye pendant that he was certain would appeal to Elbeth. “I will have that pendant and that is all.” His patience exhausted, he finally resorted to the tone of command he used as Chieftain and King.
“Yes, my lord!” The man looked startled.
Aragorn softened his words with a smile as he handed the man a handful of coins, far more than the purchases were worth. With a sigh of relief he remounted his horse.
000
A little while later, having stabled their horses, King and Steward were finally on the way to their apartments.
“At last I shall see Arwen and Eldarion!” Aragorn said joyfully.
“I feared you would never escape that merchant,” Faramir said dryly.
“So did I,” the King replied. “Greetings, Lady Morwen!” He smiled at Arwen’s lady in waiting as she passed him, her head dipped in a respectful curtsy.
“Greetings, my lord.”
“How fare my wife and son?” the King asked.
“They are well, sire,” the woman replied. “ The Queen has just left to visit the market together with the Lady Éowyn and the children. She has given me the rest of the day off as she expects to be gone for several hours.” She hurried on her way, oblivious to the dismayed expressions of the two impatient husbands and fathers.
Alas, all their haste had been in vain.
The Vase that was Broken
With grateful thanks to Raksha
“Tell me a story, ada, please!” Eldarion pleaded. He was sitting with his father in his mother’s sitting room eating his tea. The Queen had taken Farawyn to visit Éowyn for a few days and the young prince was bored.
“What sort of a story?” asked Aragorn.
“A tale of your battles and brave deeds,” said Eldarion.
The King began to tell his son about how they had fought the orcs and the cave- troll in Moria, using his spoon to illustrate how he had wielded Andúril. Before long, father and son had risen from the table and were mock-fighting enthusiastically.
A sudden loud crash brought the game to an abrupt halt.
“Oh, no; we broke naneth’s vase!” Eldarion exclaimed.
Aragorn surveyed the scene in horror. All of Arwen’s vases looked much alike to him. He seemed to recall that this was a special one; a family heirloom that had belonged to Celeborn and Galadriel and had been made for them before the breaking of Beleriand. He gingerly picked up the fragments.
Eldarion frowned. "Naneth will be cross." He looked up at Aragorn, his small face earnest. "I did not mean to break so old a thing, truly, ada."
Aragorn caressed the child's tousled black hair. “ It was not your fault, ion nîn,” he reassured his son. "I should have known better than to mimic a battle with you in Naneth's sitting room. Let us send for Uncle Faramir and see if he can help.”
The Steward, who was working late to allow Aragorn to spend more time with Eldarion, appeared within a few minutes and inspected the damage. “ I fear it is beyond repair,” he said. ”At least it does not look to be very valuable.”
“It is!” Aragorn contradicted. “ It is Elven workmanship dating from the First Age. It had pride of place in my lady’s room.”
“I have rarely been in your lady’s private rooms, so had little chance to appreciate its beauty,” Faramir said diplomatically. “ I suggest we summon the City’s craftsmen and find a vase of equal beauty ere she returns.”
“A good idea, mellon nîn, always you think of something!” said Aragorn, clapping his friend on the shoulder.
The King’s enthusiasm for the plan abated somewhat after spending much of the day inspecting the wares of a seemingly endless procession of craftsmen, all of whom had dozens of vases to show him. Aragorn’s head began to ache at the sight of each additional vessel of silver or gold or multi-coloured glass. Eventually, with Faramir’s help, he chose a silver vase encrusted with sapphires and rubies. It seemed well made and was quite costly, but the expense would be worth it if it staved off Arwen’s wrath.
Aragorn went to bed weary and slept badly, dreaming he was being buried under a mountain of vases of every hue and description imaginable.
The King’s heart was in his mouth when his Queen returned and took her accustomed place in her sitting room. He decided to wait for her to notice the vase before confessing his mishap with her treasured heirloom.
Suddenly, she espied the new vase and her eyes lit up. “How beautiful!” Arwen exclaimed. “And how thoughtful of you to buy me a surprise gift, Estel!”
“I fear your grandparents’ vase was broken while Eldarion and I were playing,” the King said sheepishly.
“The priceless heirloom?” Arwen looked puzzled. “That is silver inlaid with pearl and I put it away safely as soon as Eldarion could walk. The one that was there was a gift from the Harad Ambassador, which I always considered hideous! How could you fail to notice the difference? Men are so unobservant!”
Aragorn sighed with relief, before ruefully realising he had wasted a good deal of time and money.
Arwen picked up the new vase and studied it. Then, embracing her husband lovingly, gave him a tender kiss.
Returning his wife’s loving embrace, Aragorn decided the vase was worth every coin after all.
Playing with Fire
With grateful thanks to Raksha
The fire burned low in the hearth of the King and Queen’s private sitting room one evening in late spring.
“Would you like me to fetch more wood, my lord?” asked a servant.
“No thank you,” said Aragorn. ”The evening is warm; and we shall only stay here until Prince Eldarion's bedtime.”
The girl bobbed a curtsey and scurried from the chamber.
Arwen bent over her needlework while the King watched his son playing.
Three-year-old Eldarion, clutching his toy horse, moved nearer to the glowing embers. “No!” Aragorn said sternly. “Do not go near the fire. It will hurt you.”
Reluctantly, Eldarion moved back a few paces; his eyes still fixed on the hearth.
“I worry for our son,” said Arwen, putting her sewing aside. ”These past weeks he has become enchanted by fire. He keeps trying to approach the flames; no matter how many times his nanny or I tell him to keep away from it. No, Eldarion!” she cried, dragging her son back from the hearth.
“I fear children are curious,” said Aragorn. He looked troubled. Eldarion was the apple of his eye and he would rather cut off his right hand than see any harm come to his son.
Eldarion returned to playing with his toy horse, pretending to race it across the floor. Arwen turned her attention back to her embroidery, satisfied that their son was safe in his father’s care. She frowned in concentration, putting the final stitches to an embroidered rose that looked real enough to sweetly scent the chamber.
After a few minutes had passed, Eldarion toddled purposefully back to the glowing ashes. Aragorn watched him intently, a look of anguish in his grey eyes. This time he did not admonish his son. He simply watched the child’s every move. The little boy stared at the embers for a few moments then reached out towards them. He screamed as his chubby finger touched the glowing fire.
Arwen cried out in horror.
Aragorn, who had been poised like a cat behind his son, now swept up the weeping child. He plunged Eldarion’s finger in the water jug, and then placed his hands over it to ease the pain. Arwen kissed her son’s cheek and murmured soothing words.
“It hurts!” said Eldarion once his sobs subsided. ”Bad fire, won’t touch it again!”
“I am taking my son to bed,” Arwen said, glaring at Aragorn. “I shall speak to you later!” She strode from the room, her child in her arms.
000
“How could you, Estel?” Arwen raged when she joined her husband for dinner an hour or so later. “You were watching our son and you let him get hurt!”
“It pained me deeply to allow it to happen,” Aragorn replied. He picked at the beautifully cooked food on his plate with little appetite.
“You deliberately allowed him to burn his finger?” the Queen demanded, her eyes aghast. "How could you?"
“When I lived in Gondor many years ago under the guise of Thorongil,” the King replied, “a kindly Guardsman and his wife befriended me. They had three children, their youngest being a little boy of Eldarion’s age. Like our son, the beauty of fire charmed him. One day, when his mother’s back was turned, the lad plunged his arm into the flames. His clothing caught fire and he was badly burned. I tried my utmost to heal him, but his injuries were beyond any man’s aid. He died in agony later that night. He was a fair child and it still grieves me to think of him. When I was small, I once touched some embers like Eldarion did tonight. Ever after, I had a healthy respect for fire. It was hard to see our son in pain, but it was a fleeting hurt, that should be healed by the morrow. Yet the memory of that pain will return whenever Eldarion even thinks to approach a flame. I could think of no other way to protect him, especially since our duties necessitate that we must often leave him in the care of others.”
Arwen looked across at her beloved and saw that his eyes were wet with tears. She patted his hand tenderly. It seemed that even after almost six years of marriage, there was still much to learn about her husband. “It seems some lessons must be harshly taught,” she whispered.
“I hope I shall never again need to teach so painful a lesson,” Aragorn said sadly. “I felt that I, too played with fire tonight.”
A Dainty Dish
Now, wasn't that a dainty dish
To set before the King? – Traditional nursery Rhyme.
With thanks to Deandra.
“So how are you enjoying your visit to Gondor?” Prince Imrahil enquired of Merry and Pippin. Imrahil and the Hobbits were sitting by the fire with Aragorn, Arwen, Faramir and Éowyn after a convivial dinner.
“It is very nice - that is, apart from the food,” said Merry.
“That grieves me to hear,” said Aragorn. “I instructed the cooks to prepare their finest dishes for you.”
“It is not good simple Hobbit cooking, though,” said Pippin. “All those fancy dishes smothered in sauce so you don’t know what you are eating hardly! And they never serve mushrooms! Don’t they grow them in Gondor, Strider?”
Imrahil raised his eyebrows at Pippin’s casual form of address to the King. He refrained from commenting, as Aragorn seemed not to notice. “Mushrooms, Sir Peregrin?” he said in a horrified tone. “No lord or lady of Gondor would eat such a common food! Poor peasants, who cannot afford to eat any better, gather them in the woods.”
“When I was a Ranger, it was a pleasure to come across some mushrooms and cook them for my supper,” said Aragorn. “Pippin is quite right. Mushrooms should be served at the King’s table.”
“Your guests would be shocked, my lord,” Imrahil cautioned. “You are King, though; your word is law.”
“When I was serving in Ithilien, my men introduced me to the delights of mushrooms. Éowyn often instructs our cook to prepare them in Emyn Arnen,” said Faramir. “My father would never have had them served at his table, though.”
“The people of the Mark enjoy mushrooms, too,” said Éowyn.” If our Kings can enjoy them, I cannot see why the lords of Gondor cannot!”
“It is hard to change the closed minds of Men, I fear. Unlike the Elves, they do not appreciate the fruits of Yavanna that grow wild when they have sufficient coin to buy those that are cultivated.”
“I believe it is because many of the City folk cannot distinguish a mushroom from a toadstool,” said Faramir. ”Therefore, rather than run the risk of being poisoned, our lords prefer not to eat them at all!”
The rest of the company nodded, thinking that Faramir had most likely explained the puzzle. The conversation moved to other matters.
A week later, the King’s birthday was celebrated with a State Banquet. All the highest ranked lords and ladies were invited, and the invitations were gladly accepted. As special friends of the King, Merry and Pippin were the guests of honour.
The guests enjoyed a appetizing creamy soup, which was followed by some sort of vegetable stuffed with crab and covered with breadcrumbs. The guests then partook of a stew, before feasting on a selection of desserts.
“What a delicious meal!” exclaimed Imrahil. “The cooks have surpassed themselves!”
“We made good use of the crabs you had sent from Dol Amroth,” said Arwen sweetly.
“I did not recognise the flavour of the soup nor the vegetable you served with the crab,” said the Prince of Dol Amroth. “It was most enjoyable though.”
Most of the lords and ladies murmured their enthusiastic agreement.
“We’re glad you liked our favourite mushroom recipes from the Shire,” said Pippin.
“The soup recipe has been in my grandmother’s family for ten generations,” Merry added.
“We have been eating mushrooms?” Imrahil looked aghast.
“From your words the other night, I surmised that you and the rest of the nobility had never eaten them,” said Aragorn. “Therefore, I asked Merry and Pippin to instruct my cooks in the best ways to prepare them. From now on, mushrooms will be served at the King’s table regularly. I had forgotten just how much I enjoyed them until Merry and Pippin reminded me. Why should the lords shun a food, because the common folk enjoy it? If a food is good enough for my lowliest subjects, it should be good enough for their King, too.”
“I have learned a valuable lesson tonight,” said Imrahil. “It seems we all have much to teach each other.”
“ Indeed! We decided we liked the food here after all once we became accustomed to it,” said Merry.
“We would like to take some recipes from Minas Tirith and Dol Amroth home to the Shire,” said Pippin.
“I will send a message to my cook and request that he copy out my Household’s favourite dishes,” Imrahil told the Hobbits. “Perhaps you would allow my cook to sample some of your recipes too?”
“When we return home we will collect all our favourite recipes and despatch them to Gondor,” said Merry.
“Let us drink a toast to all our peoples and their culinary traditions,” said Aragorn. He smiled at the Hobbits, recalling a long ago birthday he had celebrated at an inn in Bree. The mushrooms had tasted as good then as they did today, despite the humble surroundings. He reminded himself that the simple pleasures of life were often the best.
A Price above Rubies
Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies.- Proverbs 31.9-11. The Bible.
Based on an idea of Raksha's
With grateful thanks to Deandra
Aragorn had spent an enjoyable hour sparring with Faramir. King and Steward had been honing their skills with sword and bow, before Faramir left to spend a few days with his family in Ithilien. The two men had parted in good spirits. Aragorn was looking forward to spending the rest of the day with his wife and children. He hummed contentedly to himself as he approached his wife’s solar.
“May I see Andúril, Ada?“ asked Eldarion as his father entered the chamber, his sword still at his hip. The little boy ran to his father’s side.
“You may look, but not touch; the sword is very sharp,” Aragorn cautioned.
“Did you defeat Uncle Faramir?” the little boy asked. “I wish I could have watched.”
“You shall, next time you have no lessons,” Aragorn promised. “Uncle Faramir defeated me with the bow while I bested him with the sword. It was a close contest, as usual.“ Aragorn unsheathed the weapon and held it while his son studied it longingly. “You will have your own sword once you are grown up. Eldarion, I promise you will have a truly splendid one.”
“No other sword could be as fair as this,” Eldarion said wistfully, stroking the hilt. ”But, I will kill lots of bad men with it!”
“Estel, Eldarion, I do not like such talk, or naked blades indoors!” Arwen chided. She was pacing the room, trying to pacify a fretful Farawyn.
“I am sorry, my love,” Aragorn said contritely, sheathing the weapon. “Is Farawyn teething again?”
“I fear so,” Arwen sighed. “She has been crying most of the day.”
“Shall I hold her?” the King volunteered.
“Thank you, Estel,” said the Queen, gladly handing over her daughter. “I will leave her with you while I help Eldarion’s nanny put him to bed.”
“I’m not tired!” Eldarion protested. “Why do I have to go to bed before the sun does in summer?”
“Little boys need their sleep so they will grow up to be big and strong. and grow tall enough to wield a sword,” said Aragorn. “I will come and tell you a bedtime story later, ion nîn,” he promised as Eldarion left with his mother.
The King tried to settle on his favourite chair. He rocked Farawyn in his arms. Still she cried. The King sang an Elvish lullaby. Farawyn cried all the louder. Aragorn tried a healing touch to soothe his daughter. She continued to wail dolefully. The King stared desperately round the room for a means to distract her. A beam of evening sunlight was playing on his sword. “Look at the pretty jewels, see how they sparkle!” Aragorn cried, reaching for the sheathed weapon and showing the baby his sword hilt in a bid to distract her.
Farawyn’s eyes lit up. Suddenly, she clamped her mouth down on the hilt and started to chew it contentedly. Usually, Aragorn would have been horrified to have his precious sword used as a teething ring. The silence, though, was blissful. Farawyn looked so pleased with herself; he had not the heart to take it away from her. The hilt was solid mithril, so she could not do it any harm and he had cleaned it after his bout with Faramir earlier that day.
“Farawyn has finally settled!” Aragorn said delightedly when Arwen returned.
“Fancy letting a baby chew on a sword hilt!” his wife scolded. “Give her to me now. It is time for her to be fed, while Eldarion is waiting for the story you promised him.”
Aragorn was engrossed in telling his son a tale, about how he fought off a dozen Orcs single-handedly, when a servant interrupted to say the Queen required his presence at once.
“I will finish the story tomorrow, ion nîn,” said Aragorn kissing his son on the brow. He called to the nanny in the next room to take care of Eldarion and hastened to his wife.
Arwen, her face pale, was gazing fixedly at Andúril’s hilt. “There is a jewel missing!” she exclaimed. ”Farawyn must have swallowed it! How could you be so irresponsible? My poor baby!”
Aragorn took the sword from her and studied it. A large ruby was missing. “It should not do her any harm,” he said.
“It could have sharp edges and cut her inside!” Arwen fretted. ”You are a Healer, you must be able to do something!”
“It is smooth and small enough to pass through her when nature takes its course,” Aragorn said with more confidence than he felt.
The baby had begun to cry again, and Aragorn reached to take her from his wife.It was impossible to tell though, whether it was the commotion, pain from her teething or the fact she had swallowed a jewel, that was distressing her. The King carefully undressed the baby and gently felt for any trace of the ruby, but could find none. She reacted indignantly by biting his fingers when he felt in her mouth. Arwen, meanwhile shook out Farawyn’s clothes, but could find no sign of the stone.
Unable to do anything else, Arwen reluctantly put Farawyn to bed just as the servants arrived with their dinner. Though neither had much of an appetite, they picked at their meals in silence. Aragorn was uncomfortably aware of the fierce glare his wife favoured him with throughout the course of it.
When bedtime came, Arwen banished her husband to his dressing room. She spent the night dozing fitfully, expecting any moment that her baby would be taken violently ill.
Aragorn became increasing infected by his wife’s fears. As a Healer, he knew the stone was unlikely to cause harm, but as a father he was terrified that some harm would befall his beloved child. When he fell asleep, he was plagued by hideous nightmares of having to cut into his little daughter to retrieve the ruby when it blocked some vital organ, while Master Aedred shook his head and pronounced the child dead. The King cried out and woke up shaking in distress just as the cock crowed, heralding dawn. A wakeful Arwen took pity on him and permitted him to join her in the marital bed. Farawyn slumbered peacefully in her cradle.
The King and Queen were glad when the maid arrived bearing their morning tea. The girl set the tray down then hovered hesitantly by the door.
“What is it, Nienor?” enquired the Queen.
“Nothing, my lady, save the housemaid found a red stone under the rug this morning. She thinks it’s a ruby and that she should tell you, but the housekeeper says it must just be a glass bead and she shouldn’t bother you over such trifles.”
Arwen hugged the astonished Nienor. “That is the best news anyone could tell me!” she exclaimed. “You may have the rest of the day off. First, though, send the housemaid to me; she shall be richly rewarded!”
An hour later, the King and Queen were breakfasting in the solar. The stone had been identified as the missing ruby. A craftsman had been summoned to replace it in the hilt and the housemaid given five silver pieces as a reward.
“I am so sorry, I was angry with you, my love,” Arwen said contritely.
“I deserved your wrath. I would never forgive myself if any ill befell my children,” Aragorn replied.” They are a treasure far above any rubies in value.”
Seeking the Sun
With grateful thanks to Raksha.
I walked from door to door in the July heat until my feet were blistered and bleeding. It seemed no one wanted to employ a seamstress of low degree. There were far too many such as I seeking employment in Minas Tirith; women who knew only enough of the homely arts to tend their families in some smallholding or croft. I was neither broideress nor tailor. I possessed only my mother's old sewing kit and some experience in using it. And all I had left to wear were the clothes, now growing dirty for want of a place of my own to wash them in, that I had stuffed in a sack when my man and I had fled our cottage on the Pelennor before the Southrons had burnt it down. I spent the last of my small hoard of coin several days ago.
Some folk have advised me to ask the King for assistance. Never! I am widowed because my husband followed the Northerner to the Black Gate, where no man in his right mind has ever ventured! Who is this man who calls himself King anyway? Lord Faramir should rule, as did his longfathers before him. This usurper from the North must have tricked him into surrendering his birthright! And what manner of a Man marries an Elven witch? How can such a union be natural?
I feel faint now with hunger. Even the taverns will not employ me. I suppose they want comely wenches who can laugh with the customers. I suspect all can read the sorrow in my eyes, for I cannot hide it. They see the grief of having not only lost my husband, but my parents and sister too, to the Black Shadow. And my baby, my helpless unborn child; was also lost. I know there is one way a woman can always earn a crust, but how could I do that? 'Tis a thing worse than death!
Sometimes I think my soul is dead already. My body simply waits to follow.
I pause because my legs refuse to take one more step. I hear murmurs from a crowd that has gathered in the street. The people look and point, their faces impatient. What do they await? I ask a woman what is happening and she tells me the King is due to pass by. I have no wish to set eyes on the cause of my misery. I try to turn away, only to stumble upon a stone and almost fall. Then an idea comes to me. I am as good as dead, so this usurping foreigner can put an end to my misery. Maybe I can first strike a blow to avenge my husband? I stoop, ignoring the aches in my wearied bones, and pick up the stone.
It surprises me how small the procession is. Just a handful of horsemen ride into view. The man wearing a gem upon his brow in the middle of the group must be the King. The others all wear the black and silver livery of the Tower Guard. A woman rides at his side. She is garbed in the finest silks. I hear her laughter as she turns her face away from me, toward the tall rider. Is this the Elf he brought to be our Queen? What could she know of care and loss? I push my way to the front and cry, "Shame on you, King Elessar, for leading good men to their deaths and leaving the women to starve!" I aim the stone. He turns to look at me. His eyes! I have never seen the like. He seems to gaze into my very soul. I see the expected flash of anger; but then his eyes soften with a look of concern and something else. Kindness? I do not understand! The stone slips from my grasp. My sight dims and I sink to the ground.
When I regain my senses, I am lying on a soft bed, much to my surprise. I expected to be in prison. My worn garments have been replaced by a nightgown of fine linen. A woman in Healer's garb sits at my bedside. She smiles at me and asks whether I would like food and drink. I eagerly accept. No doubt I will die soon, but at least I shall eat first. I greedily devour the broth and watered wine that is brought to me. The Healer then brings me a robe and tells me that I shall soon receive a visitor. To my amazement, only a few minutes later, the King himself enters the room!
I had no intention of doing so, but find myself inclining my head respectfully. I keep my head bowed, not wanting to meet those eyes again.
"Look at me!"
I want to resist but cannot. I find myself meeting his grey gaze. His voice is stern but his eyes are filled with compassion.
"What is your name, Mistress?" he asks.
"I am Niniel, daughter of Alcarin, widow of Hador, a seamstress," I tell him.
"And what is your quarrel with me?" he demands.
I find myself pouring out my story to him. He listens intently, saying nothing.
"Mistress Niniel, try to remain calm," he says at last. "A woman in your condition..."
"What condition?" I interrupt bitterly.
"Surely you know you are about five months gone with child, Mistress?" the King says.
"You mock me, lord!" I retort. "I miscarried of my child after my husband died following your banner!"
Just then a woman enters, wearing a silver-grey cloak over a dark blue gown. A fairer lady I have never seen. She is more radiant than the stars. She places a gentle hand upon my belly. "You are indeed with child," she says. "I sense its life force waxing strong within you. Doubtless you were carrying twins and lost one of them while the other thrives. It is not uncommon."
I burst into tears: tears of joy that something of my husband still stirs within me and tears of sorrow that I have no way to support a child.
The woman tries to comfort me. I realise she is none other than the King's Elven bride. I think I was wrong when first I saw her. This lady is no stranger to sorrow. Mayhap she is a fitting Queen for Gondor after all.
"But Mistress, since you were destitute and starving, why did you not seek help?" the King asked once my tears subsided. "Steward Faramir first opened houses of refuge for the war-torn in March; and I have added more since I entered the City.
"I did not want charity," I replied. More tears welled up in my eyes. Was there no dignity left to me?
"It is no charity to offer work to an experienced seamstress," said the Queen, smiling.
"As King, it is my duty to help my people," said Elessar.
I look at him and at that moment I know I love him. Not of course, as a woman loves a man, but as a flower must love the sun.
A/N. This story was inspired by Pentangle's wonderful "Conversion”. The idea is used with her permission.
Friday, 6 June 2008
Drawing the Eye
The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate. No profit has been, nor will be made from this story
With grateful thanks to Raksha.
Drawing the Eye
The two grey-cloaked men entered the chamber; its stone walls were cold and unwelcoming. The room had been Théodred's private room, but bore scant trace of its former occupant. It was bleak and sparsely furnished, holding only a rough pallet and a table and a chair. A meagre fire burned in the hearth, the flames offering little light and less warmth.
Moving carefully, Aragorn approached the table and carefully set the covered object he carried down upon it.
"Is this wise?" Halbarad asked anxiously. He lit the lamps, a frown creasing his pale face.
"Probably not, but it must be done. Remember, as the Heir of Elendil, I have the right to use the Orthanc-stone. The message you have brought me tonight from my Lady rekindles the fire in my blood. This is one of the trials I must overcome if I am to become what I was born to be!"
"I do not doubt your claim on the Stone, but to press it this night? You are weary after your labours of the past days. At least take rest first!" Halbarad pleaded.
"Would that I could, but time is a luxury we do not have. You need not stay, Halbarad; go and rejoin the others."
"I will not leave you," Halbarad said staunchly.
"Thank you, kinsman." Aragorn clasped the other's shoulder. "Your presence will give me comfort, but I must ask you to remain silent, and above all, do not approach me, lest our Enemy espy you from the stone."
Halbarad nodded reluctantly. He sat down upon the pallet in the far corner, his eyes never leaving Aragorn, and his limbs tense, ready to rise swiftly if needed.
Aragorn seated himself in front of the stone and flung aside the cloth that covered it. At first, the palantír seemed filled with heavy mist. Then a pinprick of light widened, became a sullen glow, which gradually burned away the mists, to reveal a great lidless eye. The great eye fastened upon him. Aragorn was suddenly hit by a wave of ancient malice that rocked him from head to toe. But if Sauron thought to cow him with such evil, as if the Lord of the Dúnedain were a young hobbit or simple Bree-man, then their adversary would soon learn otherwise. Aragorn smiled grimly. Let it begin!
Aragorn stared at the Great Eye locked in combat as fierce as any passage at arms. The hours passed as Halbarad watched his lord sit still as if turned to stone, hardly seeming even to breathe.
The first glimmer of dawn lightened the eastern sky when Aragorn drew Andúril and rose to his feet.
The Great Eye vanished from the globe, its attendant fires slowly dissipating. The air in the room suddenly felt cleansed. Aragorn threw the cloth over the palantír. He swayed on his feet. Halbarad caught him before he could swoon and half dragged, half carried his kinsman to the pallet. Once there, he drew off his cloak and wrapped it around Aragorn. He uncorked his water bottle and coaxed Aragorn to swallow a draught. The Heir of Isildur was trembling and ashen faced. Halbarad placed a comforting arm around his shoulders.
As daylight entered the room Halbarad clearly saw his Chieftain's haggard features. Aragorn seemed to have aged by decades overnight and looked every one of his eighty-eight years. "I fear tonight's struggle has cost you dearly," said Halbarad, unable to hide his concern.
Aragorn managed a grim smile. "The attempt had to be made to draw Sauron's attention," he said. "I told the Dark Lord; I am here, Sauron, I Aragorn son of Arathorn the heir of Isildur; he whom you have long sought and believed was slain. Behold! I bear the tokens of my lineage, the star of Elendil and the sword that was broken! This sword now reforged shall once again mete out justice to you. I am coming to Minas Tirith to take what is my rightful inheritance! The struggle was hard, but my will prevailed."
"The Valar be praised, we have hope at last!" Halbarad exclaimed. "Sleep now Aragorn, rest a little while you may."
Aragorn lay back on the pallet and closed his eyes. He found, though, that he was too weary for sleep. Halbarad was already snoring loudly. He regarded his kinsman with a wave of affection. They had shared many adventures together over the years, but drawing Sauron's Eye had been Aragorn's hardest trial yet. A sudden flash of foresight chilled his blood. Halbarad would not live to see the outcome of this struggle. Aragorn wished he could send his kinsman back to the relative safety of his home with his wife and children in the North. Yet he knew Halbarad would not leave his Chieftain's side as the hour of Aragorn's destiny approached.
Aragorn had chosen this course. He must now follow his path to its bitter end.
With grateful thanks to Raksha.
Drawing the Eye
The two grey-cloaked men entered the chamber; its stone walls were cold and unwelcoming. The room had been Théodred's private room, but bore scant trace of its former occupant. It was bleak and sparsely furnished, holding only a rough pallet and a table and a chair. A meagre fire burned in the hearth, the flames offering little light and less warmth.
Moving carefully, Aragorn approached the table and carefully set the covered object he carried down upon it.
"Is this wise?" Halbarad asked anxiously. He lit the lamps, a frown creasing his pale face.
"Probably not, but it must be done. Remember, as the Heir of Elendil, I have the right to use the Orthanc-stone. The message you have brought me tonight from my Lady rekindles the fire in my blood. This is one of the trials I must overcome if I am to become what I was born to be!"
"I do not doubt your claim on the Stone, but to press it this night? You are weary after your labours of the past days. At least take rest first!" Halbarad pleaded.
"Would that I could, but time is a luxury we do not have. You need not stay, Halbarad; go and rejoin the others."
"I will not leave you," Halbarad said staunchly.
"Thank you, kinsman." Aragorn clasped the other's shoulder. "Your presence will give me comfort, but I must ask you to remain silent, and above all, do not approach me, lest our Enemy espy you from the stone."
Halbarad nodded reluctantly. He sat down upon the pallet in the far corner, his eyes never leaving Aragorn, and his limbs tense, ready to rise swiftly if needed.
Aragorn seated himself in front of the stone and flung aside the cloth that covered it. At first, the palantír seemed filled with heavy mist. Then a pinprick of light widened, became a sullen glow, which gradually burned away the mists, to reveal a great lidless eye. The great eye fastened upon him. Aragorn was suddenly hit by a wave of ancient malice that rocked him from head to toe. But if Sauron thought to cow him with such evil, as if the Lord of the Dúnedain were a young hobbit or simple Bree-man, then their adversary would soon learn otherwise. Aragorn smiled grimly. Let it begin!
Aragorn stared at the Great Eye locked in combat as fierce as any passage at arms. The hours passed as Halbarad watched his lord sit still as if turned to stone, hardly seeming even to breathe.
The first glimmer of dawn lightened the eastern sky when Aragorn drew Andúril and rose to his feet.
The Great Eye vanished from the globe, its attendant fires slowly dissipating. The air in the room suddenly felt cleansed. Aragorn threw the cloth over the palantír. He swayed on his feet. Halbarad caught him before he could swoon and half dragged, half carried his kinsman to the pallet. Once there, he drew off his cloak and wrapped it around Aragorn. He uncorked his water bottle and coaxed Aragorn to swallow a draught. The Heir of Isildur was trembling and ashen faced. Halbarad placed a comforting arm around his shoulders.
As daylight entered the room Halbarad clearly saw his Chieftain's haggard features. Aragorn seemed to have aged by decades overnight and looked every one of his eighty-eight years. "I fear tonight's struggle has cost you dearly," said Halbarad, unable to hide his concern.
Aragorn managed a grim smile. "The attempt had to be made to draw Sauron's attention," he said. "I told the Dark Lord; I am here, Sauron, I Aragorn son of Arathorn the heir of Isildur; he whom you have long sought and believed was slain. Behold! I bear the tokens of my lineage, the star of Elendil and the sword that was broken! This sword now reforged shall once again mete out justice to you. I am coming to Minas Tirith to take what is my rightful inheritance! The struggle was hard, but my will prevailed."
"The Valar be praised, we have hope at last!" Halbarad exclaimed. "Sleep now Aragorn, rest a little while you may."
Aragorn lay back on the pallet and closed his eyes. He found, though, that he was too weary for sleep. Halbarad was already snoring loudly. He regarded his kinsman with a wave of affection. They had shared many adventures together over the years, but drawing Sauron's Eye had been Aragorn's hardest trial yet. A sudden flash of foresight chilled his blood. Halbarad would not live to see the outcome of this struggle. Aragorn wished he could send his kinsman back to the relative safety of his home with his wife and children in the North. Yet he knew Halbarad would not leave his Chieftain's side as the hour of Aragorn's destiny approached.
Aragorn had chosen this course. He must now follow his path to its bitter end.
Tuesday, 18 March 2008
A light from the shadows shall spring
A light from the shadows shall spring
These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.
With thanks to Deandra
A light from the shadows shall spring
A story to for March 15th to celebrate Aragorn healing Faramir
Weary and heart sore, I sought my rest, as the sun slowly sank over the western horizon. The day had been won, but at a heavy price. Halbarad, my kinsman dear to me as a brother, had fallen on the battlefield. So too had Théoden King and many other brave men. We may have beaten Sauron today, but unless the Ringbearer succeeds, our victory will be futile.
Then if by some miracle we win this war, will the crown of Gondor and Arwen’s hand in marriage ever be mine? Denethor hates me almost as much as he hates the Dark Lord himself. The death of Boromir in my company will make him like me even less.
Gandalf interrupted my melancholy thoughts with the news that Denethor is dead, slain, alas, by his own hand. He perished by fire, trying to take his sole surviving child with him. Faramir was snatched from the pyre, but wounded and racked by fever. The healers believe it is likely he will soon follow his father and brother beyond the circles of the world.
The Wizard quotes the old saying to me concerning the hands of the king being the hands of a healer. Well, I am a healer of some skill, but I am no king! Can my hands truly hold power over the Black Breath? I can only try.
Wearily, I follow Gandalf to the Houses of Healing. It would be a strange chance indeed, if I proved my lineage by healing the one man left between the throne and me!
Gandalf leads me to where Faramir lies. I study the face of the late Steward’s younger son. He is clearly dying. It does not even take a healer to discern that. I quickly examine him. His wound is neither severe nor poisoned. The Black Breath, caused by Sauron’s dark magic, is the cause of Faramir’s malady. The young man has a powerful air of Númenor about him. I sense great strength and goodness in his heart, overshadowed by sorrow at his brother’s death and father’s mood.
What manner of father tries to destroy the very life he gave to his child? Can I restore to Faramir that which his sire would have taken? Had I such a son, I would love and cherish him. The shadow is growing ever stronger within him, threatening to overwhelm Faramir’s noble heart. Sauron is trying to claim this man’s life and with him the very soul of Gondor. I take Faramir’s hand and prepare to battle with the darkness that engulfs him.
The shadows now assail me, trying to snatch Faramir from my grasp.The Dark Lord shall not have this son of Westernesse . I claim him as mine own! Should I prevail, I will have need of him in my kingdom. Yet, have I the strength to save him? Without athelas I cannot reclaim Faramir from Sauron’s grasp. I can only walk beside him in the dark vale in which he wanders and strive to keep him from falling. But for how long?
At last! A boy enters with the precious herb and I prepare it. The scent cuts through the darkness like a sword cuts through cloth. At once I feel refreshed.
Faramir slowly opens his eyes and looks at me. I expected his father’s eyes, but his are nothing like Denethor’s, save only in their colour. These eyes are warm, trusting and filled with love. “My lord, you called me. I come. What does the king command?” he says softly.
I smile at him; an equal love kindled in mine own heart. He calls me king! Today I have learned the power of the king lies with me. Maybe my heart’s desire will be granted. I may yet hope for the crown and Arwen’s hand in marriage. This man is no rival, but a friend!
These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.
With thanks to Deandra
A light from the shadows shall spring
A story to for March 15th to celebrate Aragorn healing Faramir
Weary and heart sore, I sought my rest, as the sun slowly sank over the western horizon. The day had been won, but at a heavy price. Halbarad, my kinsman dear to me as a brother, had fallen on the battlefield. So too had Théoden King and many other brave men. We may have beaten Sauron today, but unless the Ringbearer succeeds, our victory will be futile.
Then if by some miracle we win this war, will the crown of Gondor and Arwen’s hand in marriage ever be mine? Denethor hates me almost as much as he hates the Dark Lord himself. The death of Boromir in my company will make him like me even less.
Gandalf interrupted my melancholy thoughts with the news that Denethor is dead, slain, alas, by his own hand. He perished by fire, trying to take his sole surviving child with him. Faramir was snatched from the pyre, but wounded and racked by fever. The healers believe it is likely he will soon follow his father and brother beyond the circles of the world.
The Wizard quotes the old saying to me concerning the hands of the king being the hands of a healer. Well, I am a healer of some skill, but I am no king! Can my hands truly hold power over the Black Breath? I can only try.
Wearily, I follow Gandalf to the Houses of Healing. It would be a strange chance indeed, if I proved my lineage by healing the one man left between the throne and me!
Gandalf leads me to where Faramir lies. I study the face of the late Steward’s younger son. He is clearly dying. It does not even take a healer to discern that. I quickly examine him. His wound is neither severe nor poisoned. The Black Breath, caused by Sauron’s dark magic, is the cause of Faramir’s malady. The young man has a powerful air of Númenor about him. I sense great strength and goodness in his heart, overshadowed by sorrow at his brother’s death and father’s mood.
What manner of father tries to destroy the very life he gave to his child? Can I restore to Faramir that which his sire would have taken? Had I such a son, I would love and cherish him. The shadow is growing ever stronger within him, threatening to overwhelm Faramir’s noble heart. Sauron is trying to claim this man’s life and with him the very soul of Gondor. I take Faramir’s hand and prepare to battle with the darkness that engulfs him.
The shadows now assail me, trying to snatch Faramir from my grasp.The Dark Lord shall not have this son of Westernesse . I claim him as mine own! Should I prevail, I will have need of him in my kingdom. Yet, have I the strength to save him? Without athelas I cannot reclaim Faramir from Sauron’s grasp. I can only walk beside him in the dark vale in which he wanders and strive to keep him from falling. But for how long?
At last! A boy enters with the precious herb and I prepare it. The scent cuts through the darkness like a sword cuts through cloth. At once I feel refreshed.
Faramir slowly opens his eyes and looks at me. I expected his father’s eyes, but his are nothing like Denethor’s, save only in their colour. These eyes are warm, trusting and filled with love. “My lord, you called me. I come. What does the king command?” he says softly.
I smile at him; an equal love kindled in mine own heart. He calls me king! Today I have learned the power of the king lies with me. Maybe my heart’s desire will be granted. I may yet hope for the crown and Arwen’s hand in marriage. This man is no rival, but a friend!
Friday, 29 February 2008
Star of Hope
"I saw a star that was falling, I wish'd the wish of my soul." - Traditional Irish song.
“You wished to see me, my lady?”
I shuffled my feet nervously. Master Elrond was never other than courteous towards me, but I still felt like a timid little girl in his presence.
“It is my son’s third birthday tomorrow. I should like some small celebration to mark the occasion for him.”
“Ah, yes, Lady Gilraen, the tradition of Men to mark the day of birth, since the day of begetting is so rarely recalled amongst my brother’s kindred.”
I lowered my eyes, hoping Master Elrond would not see the light of memory in my eyes that his wordskindled. Oh, but I did know the day of Aragorn’s begetting, that special night is still as clear in my memory as if it were yesterday. These memories are too precious and private to ever speak of to Master Elrond, kindly though he is. Maybe, one day I will tell my son that he was begotten upon an auspicious day. Maybe…
It was a rare gathering for the Dúnedain. As many who were able came from the scattered villages amidst the ruins of the old capital, Annuminas, where they made camp and prepared to celebrate Loëndë.
The celebrations began on the longest night of the year, a night feared by the servants of darkness. My parents were amongst those present. I gladly greeted them, having not laid eyes on my mother and father since my wedding day.
“Are you happy in your marriage to Arathorn?” my mother enquired of me later that night, taking me aside, her keen gaze scanning my still slender form. I could sense her disappointment that I was not yet with child.
“He is kindly and treats me always with respect,” I answered. Truth to tell, I still hardly knew my husband. He had been away most of the time even before the Lord Arador's death. Since he had become Chieftain earlier that year, Arathorn had even less time for home and hearth. As Lord of the Dúnedain, he was needed to care for our people and lead the fight against the minions of Shadow. I tried to be a good wife and ease his cares when he was at home. I had not opposed my mother's wish for the marriage; and I was content enough, honoured to be wed to so worthy a lord.
“Have you grown to love your husband?” my mother persisted.
I could only say. “He is a good man. ”I had never lied to my mother. It was useless, for Ivorwen’s gift of farsight always enabled her to see into my mind.
My mother frowned but said no more on the matter, instead encouraging me to try the wine, a gift from Elrond of Rivendell.
The sun sets on even the longest day. We sat watching it sink below the hills while we told tales of old Númenor and sang of the great deeds of the Sea Kings and the Faithful.
“Will you walk with me, my lady?” Arathorn appeared beside me as if out of nowhere, my cloak in his hand. He draped the soft woollen mantle around my shoulders. Arathorn slowed his pace to match mine, and took my hand as he led me along the shore of Lake Nenuial. The moon had risen and cast a silvery glow across the rippling waters.
“To think that these ruins were once a great and prosperous city,” my husband sighed, his voice full of sorrow. “Alas, for our people!”
“Maybe one day it will be rebuilt,” I said, wondering why I should voice such wild dreams. Tonight they appeared almost as a certainty to me. It was as if I could see a fair city, where now there lay only tumbled stones.
“The young may have their dreams still,” Arathorn said sadly.
I pressed his hand. We stood there for I know not how long, watching the bright path of the Star of Eärendil across the evening sky, the silence broken only the music of the waves gently lapping against the shore.
Suddenly, a light flashed in the West.
“Look!” said my husband, a smile easing the grim cast of his features; “a shooting star. You should make a wish, Gilraen.”
I silently wished that I might give him the heir he longed for, the heir we all needed.
We watched star after star streak across the sky under the sovereign eye of Gil-Estel.
“Come,” Arathorn said at last, “it grows cold.”
He let me back to our large and well-appointed tent, set a little aside from the others as befit the Chieftain and his lady.
Arathorn took me in his arms and kissed me. I found myself responding with a newfound fervour; pulling at the fastenings on his cloak as he bore me down to our warm nest of hides and furs. That night I was not just a dutiful wife, but also a happy one. Perhaps it was the wine, or the stone remnants of our people's past glory surrounding us, that awakened my heart. I know not. I know only that I enjoyed the intimacies of marriage for the first time. My passion equalled his as I freely and joyously surrendered to my lord.
“Never have I seen so many shooting stars as there were last night!” my mother remarked over breakfast the next morning. ”You look well, today, child. That Elvish wine must have suited you.”
Alas, my joy would be short-lived. Arathorn had to ride away again ere nightfall when a report arrived of Orcs gathering in the East.
When he returned a few weeks later, I had news for him.
“I carry our child, my lord,” I said.
My husband's weary face lightened. I will never forget the joy that lit his deepgrey eyes as he smiled and tenderly embraced me.
Arathorn was at my side more often during the following months. I grew large with his child and spent my days dreaming of filling our home with the laughter of many sons and daughters.
Soon after the turn of the year, my mother arrived to care for me. We expected the child in mid-March, but our Aragorn was eager to enter the world and arrived as soon as February took its leave. The moment I first held my son was the happiest I have ever known.
“You are smiling, Lady Gilraen. Do you find our customs amusing?”
Master Elrond’s words interrupted my memories. “Indeed not, lord, but my son is a child of Man, not an Elf.”
“Your son is the Hope of Men, my lady,” Elrond said gravely. "He will learn his lineage when the time is ripe. I shall ask the cooks to prepare special treats in celebration for his birthday on the morrow; and we will have gifts and games. Our Estel cannot yet know his true name, but he shall know that he is loved.”
I smiled my thanks. For now, my Aragorn must remain hidden, but in the fullness of time he will blaze forth, as a star of hope for our people. Until then, I can only wait and hope.
“You wished to see me, my lady?”
I shuffled my feet nervously. Master Elrond was never other than courteous towards me, but I still felt like a timid little girl in his presence.
“It is my son’s third birthday tomorrow. I should like some small celebration to mark the occasion for him.”
“Ah, yes, Lady Gilraen, the tradition of Men to mark the day of birth, since the day of begetting is so rarely recalled amongst my brother’s kindred.”
I lowered my eyes, hoping Master Elrond would not see the light of memory in my eyes that his wordskindled. Oh, but I did know the day of Aragorn’s begetting, that special night is still as clear in my memory as if it were yesterday. These memories are too precious and private to ever speak of to Master Elrond, kindly though he is. Maybe, one day I will tell my son that he was begotten upon an auspicious day. Maybe…
It was a rare gathering for the Dúnedain. As many who were able came from the scattered villages amidst the ruins of the old capital, Annuminas, where they made camp and prepared to celebrate Loëndë.
The celebrations began on the longest night of the year, a night feared by the servants of darkness. My parents were amongst those present. I gladly greeted them, having not laid eyes on my mother and father since my wedding day.
“Are you happy in your marriage to Arathorn?” my mother enquired of me later that night, taking me aside, her keen gaze scanning my still slender form. I could sense her disappointment that I was not yet with child.
“He is kindly and treats me always with respect,” I answered. Truth to tell, I still hardly knew my husband. He had been away most of the time even before the Lord Arador's death. Since he had become Chieftain earlier that year, Arathorn had even less time for home and hearth. As Lord of the Dúnedain, he was needed to care for our people and lead the fight against the minions of Shadow. I tried to be a good wife and ease his cares when he was at home. I had not opposed my mother's wish for the marriage; and I was content enough, honoured to be wed to so worthy a lord.
“Have you grown to love your husband?” my mother persisted.
I could only say. “He is a good man. ”I had never lied to my mother. It was useless, for Ivorwen’s gift of farsight always enabled her to see into my mind.
My mother frowned but said no more on the matter, instead encouraging me to try the wine, a gift from Elrond of Rivendell.
The sun sets on even the longest day. We sat watching it sink below the hills while we told tales of old Númenor and sang of the great deeds of the Sea Kings and the Faithful.
“Will you walk with me, my lady?” Arathorn appeared beside me as if out of nowhere, my cloak in his hand. He draped the soft woollen mantle around my shoulders. Arathorn slowed his pace to match mine, and took my hand as he led me along the shore of Lake Nenuial. The moon had risen and cast a silvery glow across the rippling waters.
“To think that these ruins were once a great and prosperous city,” my husband sighed, his voice full of sorrow. “Alas, for our people!”
“Maybe one day it will be rebuilt,” I said, wondering why I should voice such wild dreams. Tonight they appeared almost as a certainty to me. It was as if I could see a fair city, where now there lay only tumbled stones.
“The young may have their dreams still,” Arathorn said sadly.
I pressed his hand. We stood there for I know not how long, watching the bright path of the Star of Eärendil across the evening sky, the silence broken only the music of the waves gently lapping against the shore.
Suddenly, a light flashed in the West.
“Look!” said my husband, a smile easing the grim cast of his features; “a shooting star. You should make a wish, Gilraen.”
I silently wished that I might give him the heir he longed for, the heir we all needed.
We watched star after star streak across the sky under the sovereign eye of Gil-Estel.
“Come,” Arathorn said at last, “it grows cold.”
He let me back to our large and well-appointed tent, set a little aside from the others as befit the Chieftain and his lady.
Arathorn took me in his arms and kissed me. I found myself responding with a newfound fervour; pulling at the fastenings on his cloak as he bore me down to our warm nest of hides and furs. That night I was not just a dutiful wife, but also a happy one. Perhaps it was the wine, or the stone remnants of our people's past glory surrounding us, that awakened my heart. I know not. I know only that I enjoyed the intimacies of marriage for the first time. My passion equalled his as I freely and joyously surrendered to my lord.
“Never have I seen so many shooting stars as there were last night!” my mother remarked over breakfast the next morning. ”You look well, today, child. That Elvish wine must have suited you.”
Alas, my joy would be short-lived. Arathorn had to ride away again ere nightfall when a report arrived of Orcs gathering in the East.
When he returned a few weeks later, I had news for him.
“I carry our child, my lord,” I said.
My husband's weary face lightened. I will never forget the joy that lit his deepgrey eyes as he smiled and tenderly embraced me.
Arathorn was at my side more often during the following months. I grew large with his child and spent my days dreaming of filling our home with the laughter of many sons and daughters.
Soon after the turn of the year, my mother arrived to care for me. We expected the child in mid-March, but our Aragorn was eager to enter the world and arrived as soon as February took its leave. The moment I first held my son was the happiest I have ever known.
“You are smiling, Lady Gilraen. Do you find our customs amusing?”
Master Elrond’s words interrupted my memories. “Indeed not, lord, but my son is a child of Man, not an Elf.”
“Your son is the Hope of Men, my lady,” Elrond said gravely. "He will learn his lineage when the time is ripe. I shall ask the cooks to prepare special treats in celebration for his birthday on the morrow; and we will have gifts and games. Our Estel cannot yet know his true name, but he shall know that he is loved.”
I smiled my thanks. For now, my Aragorn must remain hidden, but in the fullness of time he will blaze forth, as a star of hope for our people. Until then, I can only wait and hope.
Saturday, 26 January 2008
Background Information
A guide to original characters in my stories
A guide to my original characters
Aedred – A Rohirric Healer who now works alonside Tarostar in the Houses of Healing.
Agond - A former soldier from Lossarnach,now a drunkard living rough
Alis – Estranged wife to Mahrod
Beleg - a farmer from Lossarnach
Bereth – Sister to Damrod
Borlach - An old man, headman of a village in Lossarnach
Calardan – Husband to Hanna’s late sister
Doreth - Arwen’s housekeeper
Elbeth – Young daughter of Hanna
Elestelle - Faramir and Éowyn's daughter
Emerwen - Wife to Peladur and daughter in law to Beleg and Tasariel
Galadur - Younger son of Beleg and Tasariel
Gwinhir - Son of Vanreth and Finrod
Fennas – Brother to Hanna
Finrod - Husband of Vanreth
Fontos – Lord of Lossarnach, son of the late Forlong.
Fosco – Lord of Lamedon, son of the Lord mentioned in LOTR
Gudrun – An elderly widow born in Rohan, now owner of a smallholding and orchard near to Minas Tirith
Hanna – A kitchen maid, daughter of the Porter at the Rath Dinen, who was killed by Beregond
Hareth - A widow from a small village in Lossarnach
Meneldil – Lord of Lebennin
Lady Meril – One of Arwen’s ladies in waiting
Lady Morwen – One of Arwen’s ladies in waiting
Laerwen - One of Eldarion's nursery maids
Lamrung – A former prison warder, now a member of the Citadel Guard.
Mahrod – A former Ithilien Ranger, now a prison warder
Pelendur- Eldest son of Beleg and Tasariel,married to Emerwen
Tarostar – Chief Warden of the Houses of Healing, son of Denethor’s late sister.
Tasariel - Wife to Beleg and mother of Pelendur and Galadur
Thoron - A hot tempered youth from Lossarnach
Vanreth- Daughter of Hareth
Zana – Mother of Hanna and Fennas, grandmother to Elbeth, widow of the late porter.
Original characters found in "A Time to Reap"
Original characters introduced in this story:
The villagers
Beleg - a farmer
Tasariel - his wife, also the village healer
Pelendur and Galador - Beleg's sons
Emerwen - wife to Pelendur
Borlach - Headman of the village
Thoron - A hot-tempered youth
Hareth - a widow, mother of Vanreth
Vanreth - daughter of Hareth
Finrod - Vaneth's husband
Gwinhir - Infant son of Vanreth and Finrod
(Morrandir and Falborn are the names that Aragorn and Faramir use here to disguise their true identities)
Animals
Iovas - Faramir's chestnut mare, a wedding gift from Éomer.
Zachus - A bay gelding,given to Faramir by his father.
Nimrodel - Eldarion's spaniel puppy, a birthday gift from Faramir.
Laurea - Elbeth's ginger cat
A Time to Reap
My current story "A Time to Reap" owes much of its inspiration to the Grail legends.
I was inspired by the legend of wounded Fisher King in search of healing and the wasteland which cannot flourish unless the King is healed.
The lake represents an "otherworld" where time and the usual pressures of life have no meaning. Tolkien's Lothlorien is an example of such a place.
You can read more about the myths here
http://www.celticgrounds.com/chapters/mytholsection/c-otherwrlds.htm
Lakes were an important part of Celtic mythology.For example in the King Arthur legends,he is given his sword by the Lady of the Lake and taken acros a lake to be healed after his last battle.
http://www.earlybritishkingdoms.com/bios/nimue.html
I often think of my favourite operas when I write and I had the music of Wotan and Brünnhilde's embrace from Act 3 of " Die Walküre " in my mind when I wrote Aragorn and Faramir's reconcilliation.
The Grail Realm in Wagner's "Parsifal" also helped inspire certain scenes.
Aragorn and Faramir's experience of oneness with all is best summed up in the Sanskrit phase "Tat Twam Asi" which is fully explained here,
http://www.mihira.com/mihmar99/THAT_YOU_ARE.htm
The story also contains other spiritual themes which will further unfold as the story unravels.
You can read more about the food in the story at www.GodeCookery.com
Aragorn is using a cradle scythe to harvest the wheat.
You can learn more about reaping in olden days at
http://www.londonmuseum.on.ca/Artifacts/TheForks/mvc-899f.html
http://www.1911encyclopedia.org/Reaping
http://www.saskschools.ca/~gregory/tools.html
Aragorn uses reflexology to treat Faramir.
http://www.ofesite.com/health/reflex/chart/index.htm
http://www.reflexology.org/
and accupressure in the previous chapter
http://www.beatcfs.info/accpress.htm
http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/002117.htm
Although, the creature that attacked Faramir is based on Shelob, I have also based his symtoms on real life spider bites. If you are interested, you can read more here.
http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/first-aid-spider-bites/FA00048
This scene near my home was the inspiration for the river bank where Aragorn and Faramir sunbathe.
Traditional English cornfields adorned with poppies. Such sights are sadly rare nowadays but were commonplace before the Second World War.
http://www.stats.ox.ac.uk/~ripley/Photos/Vercors2004/d29v0426.html
shrewsbury.gov.uk/.../Gallery/outoftown.htm
and this is what they were wearing when they swam in the river
These were based on a 12th century illustration.
You can see a whole range of replical mediaeval clothing at
http://www.historicenterprises.com/ from which this photo is taken.
Tolkien's Thoughts
I have been browsing Tolkien's letters and as I came across these interesting references to my favourite characters and will share them here,
Eowyn
244 From a draft to a reader of The Lord of the Rings [A fragment at the top of which Tolkien has written: 'Comments on a criticism (now lost?) concerning Faramir & Eowyn (c. 1963).']
Eowyn: It is possible to love more than one person (of the other sex) at the same time, but in a different mode and intensity. I do not think that Eowyn's feelings for Aragorn really changed much; and when he was revealed as so lofty a figure, in descent and office, she was able to go on loving and admiring him. He was old, and that is not only a physical quality: when not accompanied by any physical decay age can be alarming or awe-inspiring. Also she was not herself ambitious in the true political sense. Though not a 'dry nurse' in temper, she was also not really a soldier or 'amazon', but like many brave women was capable of great military gallantry at a crisis.
Faramir
I think you misunderstand Faramir. He was daunted by his father: not only in the ordinary way of a family with a stern proud father of great force of character, but as a Númenórean before the chief of the one surviving Númenórean state. He was motherless and sisterless (Eowyn was also motherless), and had a 'bossy' brother. He had been accustomed to giving way and not giving his own opinions air, while retaining a power of command among men, such as a man may obtain who is evidently personally courageous and decisive, but also modest, fair-minded and scrupulously just, and very merciful. I think he understood Eowyn very well. Also to be Prince of Ithilien, the greatest noble after Dol Amroth in the revived Númenórean state of Gondor, soon to be of imperial power and prestige, was not a 'market-garden job' as you term it. Until much had been done by the restored King, the P. of Ithilien would be the resident march-warden of Gondor, in its main eastward outpost – and also would have many duties in rehabilitating the lost territory, and clearing it of outlaws and orc-remnants, not to speak of the dreadful vale of Minas Ithil (Morgul). I did not, naturally, go into details about the way in which Aragorn, as King of Gondor, would govern the realm. But it was made clear that there was much fighting, and in the earlier years of A.'s reign expeditions against enemies in the East. The chief commanders, under the King, would be Faramir and Imrahil; and one of these would normally remain a military commander at home in the King's absence. A Númenórean King was monarch, with the power of unquestioned decision in debate; but he governed the realm with the frame of ancient law, of which he was administrator (and interpreter) but not the maker. In all debatable matters of importance domestic, or external, however, even Denethor had a Council, and at least listened to what the Lords of the Fiefs and the Captains of the Forces had to say. Aragorn re-established the Great Council of Gondor, and in that Faramir, who remained by inheritance the Steward (or representative of the King during his absence abroad, or sickness, or between his death and the accession of his heir) would [be] the chief counsellor.
Criticism of the speed of the relationship or 'love' of Faramir and Eowyn. In my experience feelings and decisions ripen very quickly (as measured by mere 'clock-time', which is actually not justly applicable) in periods of great stress, and especially under the expectation of imminent death. And I do not think that persons of high estate and breeding need all the petty fencing and approaches in matters of 'love'. This tale does not deal with a period of 'Courtly Love' and its pretences; but with a culture more primitive (sc. less corrupt) and nobler.
Aragorn
A difference in the use of 'magic' in this story is that it is not to be come by by 'lore' or spells; but is in an inherent power not possessed or attainable by Men as such. Aragorn's 'healing' might be regarded as 'magical', or at least a blend of magic with pharmacy and 'hypnotic' processes. But it is (in theory) reported by hobbits who have very little notions of philosophy and science; while Aragorn is not a pure 'Man', but at long remove one of the 'children of Lúthien'." (155)
Arwen and her Family
The view is that the Half-elven have a power of (irrevocable) choice, which may be delayed but not permanently, which kin's fate they will share. Elros chose to be a King and 'longaevus' but mortal, so all his descendants are mortal, and of a specially noble race, but with dwindling longevity: so Aragorn (who, however, has a greater life-span than his contemporaries, double, though not the original Númenórean treble, that of Men). Elrond chose to be among the Elves. His children – with a renewed Elvish strain, since their mother was Celebrían dtr. of Galadriel – have to make their choices. Arwen is not a 're-incarnation' of Lúthien (that in the view of this mythical history would be impossible, since Lúthien has died like a mortal and left the world of time) but a descendant very like her in looks, character, and fate. When she weds Aragorn (whose love-story elsewhere recounted is not here central and only occasionally referred to) she 'makes the choice of Lúthien', so the grief at her parting from Elrond is specially poignant. Elrond passes Over Sea. The end of his sons, Elladan and Elrohir, is not told: they delay their choice, and remain for a while (153)
Religion(an inspiration for 'A Time to Reap')
So while God (Eru) was a datum of good[1] Númenórean philosophy, and a prime fact in their conception of history. He had at the time of the War of the Ring no worship and no hallowed place. And that kind of negative truth was characteristic of the West, and all the area under Numenorean influence: the refusal to worship any 'creature', and above all no 'dark lord' or satanic demon, Sauron, or any other, was almost as far as they got. They had (I imagine) no petitionary prayers to God ; but preserved the vestige of thanksgiving. (Those under special Elvish influence might call on the angelic powers for help in immediate peril or fear of evil enemies.[2]) It later appears that there had been a 'hallow' on Mindolluin, only approachable by the King, where he had anciently offered thanks and praise on behalf of his people; but it had been forgotten. It was re-entered by Aragorn, and there he found a sapling of the White Tree, and replanted it in the Court of the Fountain. It is to be presumed that with the reemergence of the lineal priest kings (of whom Lúthien the Blessed Elf-maiden was a foremother) the worship of God would be renewed, and His Name (or title) be again more often heard. But there would be no temple of the True God while Númenórean influence lasted.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[1] There were evil Númenóreans: Sauronians, but they do not come into this story, except remotely; as the wicked Kings who had become Nazgûl or Ringwraiths.
[2] The Elves often called on Varda-Elbereth, the Queen of the Blessed Realm, their especial friend; and so does Frodo.
An early version of Faramir's Healing found in History of Middle earth - The War of the Ring.
By evening of 15th ((in pencil 14 )in a blood red sun victory is complete. All enemy is driven into or back over Anduin. Aragorn sets up his pavilion and standard outside gate, but will not enter city, yet. Denethor comes down to greet the victors. Theoden dies. He bids farewell to Gandalf, Aragorn, Eomer and Merry. Theoden and Eowyn laid for a time in the royal tombs.
Words of Aragorn and Denethor. Denethor will not yield Stewardship, yet: not until war is won or lost and all is made clear. He is cold and suspicious and? mock-courteous. Aragorn grave and silent. But Denethor says that Belike the Stewardship will run out anyway, since he seems like to lose both his sons. Faramir is sick of his wounds. If he dies then Gondor can take what new lord it likes. Aragorn says he will not be ‘taken’, he will take, but asks to see Faramir. Faramir is brought out and Aragorn tends him all that night, and love springs between them.
Aragorn and Faramir's Friendship
I subscribe to a newsletter called "Daily Om" and found the article for August 23th 2006 to to extremely appropriate with regard to Aragorn and Faramir's friendship.
I quote
August 23, 2006
To Be Human
Putting People On Pedestals
When we fall in love with someone or make a new friend, we sometimes see that person in a glowing light. Their good qualities dominate the foreground of our perception and their negative qualities. They just don't seem to have any. This temporary state of grace is commonly known as putting someone on a pedestal. Often times we put spiritual leaders and our gurus on pedestals. We have all done this to someone at one time or another, and as long as we remember that no one is actually "perfect," the pedestal phase of a relationship can be enjoyed for what it is-a phase. It's when we actually believe our own projection that troubles arise.
Everyone has problems, flaws, and blind spots, just as we do. When we entertain the illusion that someone is perfect, we don't allow them room to be human, so when they make an error in judgment or act in contradiction to our idea of perfection, we become disillusioned. We may get angry or distance ourselves in response. In the end, they are not to blame for the fact that we idealized them. Granted, they may have enjoyed seeing themselves as perfect through our eyes, but we are the ones who chose to believe an illusion. If you go through this process enough times, you learn that no one is perfect. We are all a combination of divine and human qualities and we all struggle. When we treat the people we love with this awareness, we actually allow for a much greater intimacy than when we held them aloft on an airy throne. The moment you see through your idealized projection is the moment you begin to see your loved one as he or she truly is.
We cannot truly connect with a person when we idealize them. In life, there are no pedestals-we are all walking on the same ground together. When we realize this, we can own our own divinity and our humanity. This is the key to balance and wholeness within ourselves and our relationships.
The "Daily Om" website is at
http://www.dailyom.com/
Touch
This is another insightful article from Daily OM,this time from January 17th 2008, which could well apply to Aragorn's healing methods.
Healing Our Bodies
Touch
Sometimes we might concentrate so much on our spiritual lives that we overlook the wonders of being present in our physical form. When we are more aware of the fact that our bodies are also important in terms of our personal growth, we may find it easier to nurture them. One of the most powerful ways to do this is through human touch, for a loving, comforting touch allows us to access the part of ourselves that yearns for a sense of oneness with the world around us. Even simple forms of touch connect us not just to our bodies but also to the energetic presence of other people.
There are so many ways to incorporate touch in our daily lives, one of the easiest being a heartfelt embrace. Just making a point to hug someone on a daily basis and really feel our energy pass between each other can strengthen the bonds that keep us together. Hugs help us heal any hurt or upset we may have recently experienced by letting us release into the moment of the embrace and realize that no matter what happens to us, we have someone in our lives who supports and cares for us.
Another nourishing form of touch is massage. While we may think of massage as a luxury, it is actually an ancient form of healing that enables us to open up our energetic pathways in order to receive unlimited energy from the universe. It doesn’t matter whether a simple massage comes from a loved one or a massage therapist, but by giving ourselves the gift of massage every once in a while, we are doing something healthy and beneficial for our bodies. Massage helps our bodies activate their own restorative powers, creating a wonderful way to engage fully in our own healing.
Letting ourselves take advantage of the healing nature of touch creates space where we can truly live in and experience the world through our bodies, allowing us to completely immerse ourselves in the loving sense of joy and wonder that is our life.
You can find Daily OM at
http://www.dailyom.com/cgi-bin/browse/browse.cgi
Thought Bonding
The "Thought Bonding" I use in my stories was inspired by the Vulcan "Mind Meld" used in "Star Trek".
http://www.memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Vulcan_mind_meld
I have also incorporated elements of the spontaneous telepathy that can occur between close friends and relatives.
In my stories, it can only occur between two people who love each other and are in harmony.It is initiated by touching foreheads together, but once a close bond is formed, contact is not always needed to share a telepathic link.
The idea came to me from reading about the Numenorian and Elven enhanced mental abilities .
When Aragorn heals Faramir, he has his hand on his head,as if attempting to somehow communicate with him.
Now Aragorn knelt beside Faramir, and held a hand upon his brow. And those that watched felt that some great struggle was going on. For Aragorn’s face grew grey with weariness; and ever and anon he called the name of Faramir, but each time more faintly to their hearing, as if Aragorn himself was removed from them, and walked afar in some dark vale, calling for one that was lost.
Arwen is able to watch over Aragorn from afar in thought.
Arwen remained in Rivendell, and when Aragorn was abroad, from afar she watched over him in thought;
Aragorn's Ordeal and its after effects in "Web of Treason
When I wrote about how Aragorn is effected by the cruel torture he undergoes in "Web of Treason" and "A time to Reap" I used information supplied by the following organisations who do valuable work to help real life torture survivors.
The Medical Foundation
http://www.torturecare.org.uk/
Amnesty International
http://www.amnesty.org/
You can support Amnesty's work for free by clicking the button on this page each day.
http://stopviolence.care2.com/
I quote here from "The Physicians for Human Rights " Website
http://www.phrusa.org/research/torture/tort_faq.html
"Victims often suffer from psychological symptoms such as lack of sleep, nightmares, problems with concentration, anxiety, depression, irritability, adjustment disorders, impotence, and feelings of powerlessness, shame and guilt."
and the website of "Torture Abolition and Survivors Support Committee"
http://www.kurdistan.org/you-can-end-it/bro1.html
"The psychological effects of torture often include: recurrent nightmares, the inability to sleep or fear of sleep, flashbacks, chronic anxiety, feelings of betrayal and the inability to trust any other person. These psycho- logical consequences are likely to have devastating, long-term effects not only on survivors but their families, friends, and communities as well."
Faramir's feelings in Burden of Guilt
Faramir is suffering from clinical depression for much of "Burden of Guilt"
.An unusually sad mood that does not go away
Loss of enjoyment and interest in activities that used to be enjoyable
Tiredness and lack of energy
Loss of confidence in themselves or poor self-esteem
Feeling guilty when they are not at fault
Wishing they were dead
Difficulty concentrating or making decisions
Moving more slowly or, sometimes becoming agitated and unable to settle
Having sleeping difficulties or, sometimes, sleeping too much
Loss of interest in food or, sometimes eating too much. Changes in eating habits may lead to either loss of weight or putting on weight.
Taken from http://bluepages.anu.edu.au/symptoms/diagnosis/
Faramir's reactions to the fear what Mahrod may have done to him, also form a thread in the story.
Below is a link to a site for victims of sexual abuse
http://www.dcrcc.org/home.htm
Please note,the content is unsuitable for children.
Pictures
I use the symbolism of the rainbow in several of my stories.
Wallpapers
A reader, Elenhin Kindly made some wallpapers to illustrate my stories. My Faramir is not the film version, but the designs illustrate the themes of the stories well.
Burden of Guilt.
Web of Treason
Quotation Resources
I know many of you find the quotations I use interesting.
Some I already know.
I find many others at
http://www.bartleby.com/quotations/
I take many from the Bible or Shakespeare which can be found online at
http://www.biblegateway.com/
http://www-tech.mit.edu/Shakespeare/
I also often use the librettos of Wagner's operas
http://www.rwagner.net/e-t-opere.html
Faramir's Ancestry
In HoME XII (The Peoples of Middle-earth) this appears which failed to make it into the final draft of The Stewards of Gondor (Appendix A) in the ROTK Appendices:
These may be added, for though not in the direct line, the Hurinionath, the family to which Pelendur and Mardil belonged, were of Numenorean blood hardly less pure than that of the kings, and undoubtedly had some share in the actual blood of Elendil and Anarion.
It is unclear whether that means that they were related to Elendil via his ancestors or actually descended from Elendil, but there does seem to be an implied connection, though not in the direct line (father to son). (page 218, hardcover edition, in Ch. VII, The Heirs of Elendil)
Several pages earlier, there's another version of the same paragraph:
Here follows the roll of the Stewards of Gondor
that ruled the realm and city between the going of Earnur
and the coming of Elessar
The Ruling Stewards of Gondor
The names of these rulers are here added; for though the Hurinionath were not in the direct line of descent from Elendil, they were ultimately of royal origin, and had in any case kept their blood more pure than most other families in the later ages.
But...this is still not canonical. And Faramir says plainly in TTT that
We of my house are not of the line of Elendil. though the blood of Numenor is in us.
It could,however be that Faramir meant that his house is not of the direct, father-to-son line of Elendil (remember that Pelendur rejected Arvedui's claim to the throne of Gondor on behalf of his wife Firiel who was the daughter of Ondoher, the last King of Gondor of the line of Anarion).
Personally,I think it highly unlikely that a Hurin never married at least a younger daughter of one of the Kings,so I felt justified in creating a granddaughter for Elendil who married an ancestor of Faramir's,especially as Tolkien rarely mentioned daughters in his histories of the Kings and Stewards.
With thanks to Raksha for researching this information.
Sponsors
The Volsung Saga
Tolkien was inspired by various mythic sources when he wrote "The Lord of the Rings".
One of his main sources was the "Volsung Saga"
which you can read here.
http://omacl.org/Volsunga/
This old Norse epic was also the inspiration for Wagner's "Der Ring des Nibelungen", which I often quote from in my chapter headings.
To cut a very long story short-
Alberich/Andvardi steals the Rhine gold and makes a magic ring from it.
Wotan/Odin asks the giants to build a castle, Valhalla for him.He steals Alberich's ring to pay them.
Alberich curses the ring to be desired by all and bring death to all who own it.
Wotan is now enthralled by the ring and refuses to part with it but relents when the Wala(pronounced Vala),Erda counsels him to relinquish it.
The curse takes immediate effect as one of the giants kills the other.
Many years pass and Wotan anxious to regain the ring, rathers a hero, Siegmund.Meanwhile, Alberich has also fathered a son,Hagen/Hogni while the surviving giant, Fafner/Fafnir has turned himself into a dragon to guard the Ring. Wotan's plans go awry and he orders his daughter Brünnhilde /Brynhild to see that Siegmund is killed in battle.
Brünnhilde decides to spare him,thereby incurring Wotan's wrath.He imprisons her on a mountain,where she will sleep surrounded by fire until a fearless hero awakens her.She will lose her immortality by marrying a mortal.
About twenty years later,Wotan has taken to wandering the world as an old man dressed in a grey cloak. Siegfried/Sigurd the son of Siegmund kills the dragon, Fafner and takes the magic ring for his own. He then awakens Brünnhilde and claims him as his bride.
Eager for new adventures, Siegfried leaves Brünnhilde after giving her the ring. He travels to the Hall of the Gibichungs when Gunter/Gunnar lives with his sister Gutrune/Gudrun and half brother Hagen.
They give him a drink to make him forget Brünnhilde and fall in love with Gutrune.Siegfried then agrees to win Brünnhilde for Gunther.
Betrayed and furious, Brünnhilde conspires with Hagen to kill Siegfried,which he does.
She then learns the truth and over come with remorse orders a funeral pyre to be built for Siegfried.Once it is lit she jumps on it and the flames rise to consume Valhalla and all the gods within.
The Rhine floods the hall and Hagen is drowned and the ring restored to the Rhine.
A new age of men dawns,now the gods are no more.
You can hear music from the Ring Cycle here.
http://www-scf.usc.edu/~gishii/ahis001/wagner/downloads/index.html
and read the librettos here
http://www.karadar.com/Operas/wagner.html
I grew to know and love these operas when I was in my teens and the fact they were inspired by the same myths was what first drew me to Tolkien about ten years later.
There are some ideas found only in Wagner and Tolkien and not in the original myth,the most notable being the ring having the power to devastate the world and an immortal woman losing her immortality to marry a human.
I am well aware that Tolkien claimed the only thing his work had in common with Wagner's is that "both rings are round", but am more inclined to agree with the writer of a Tolkien study I recently read, who felt Tolkien protested too much and was indeed influenced by Wagner's Ring.
My Favourite Tolkien Links
Here are my favourite links to some both well and little known sites, which I have found very helpful both as sources of inspiration and information.
The Encyclopedia of Arda, is an essential site for any fanfic writer,an invaluable reference guide to everyone and everything mentioned in Tolkien's works.
http://www.glyphweb.com/ARDA/
The Thain's Book
http://www.tuckborough.net/
An encyclopedia of Middle-earth in the Third Age divided into detailed sections on People,Places, Things, Creatures and Events.
Mythic Truth - http://www.mythictruth.com/
This is a very interesting and detailed site about Catholic influences in "Lord of the Rings".
Highly recommended, it greatly enhanced my enjoyment of the book as well as giving me ideas to help me with writing my stories.
Talking about Tolkien - http://www.talkingabouttolkien.com/index_english.html
An interesting site with lots of photos of Tolkien and info about his work. It is being compiled for Chinese fans but is in English too.
It even tells you what lines from the book found their way into the films and has the timeline,useful if your copy of LOTR Is in another room while writing a fanfic.
There are also links to audio and video of the Professor.
From pointy ears to Grima's tears -
investigations of a Tolkien enthusiast
A collection of essays on various subjects the most interesting being about healing in Middle-earth
http://www.istad.org/tolkien/
Finduilas's J.R.R Tolkien Page
Information and essays concerning Tolkien's world, from timelines to speculations about magic in Middle earth.
http://fin.go.wifl.at.org/layers/html/main.shtml
An interesting essay about different kinds of love and friendship, as well as sex in Tolkien's work.
Warm beds are Good
http://www.ansereg.com/WarmBedsareGood.pdf
A very useful list quoting what Tolkien has to say about the hair and eye colour of his characters.
Tolkien Geek
A delightful site summarising and commenting on Tolkien's works.
http://tolkiengeek.blogspot.com/
Hair and Eye Colours
http://www.lcwsites.org/~lisa/colors.html
Sindarin Dictionary
http://www.jrrvf.com/hisweloke/sindar/online/sindar/dict-sd-en.html
Readers from many lands
I am thrilled and honoured to have past and present readers from all over the world.
They come from
Australia
Belgium
Brazil
Canada
China
Czech Republic
Denmark
Finland
France
Germany
Greece
Guyana
Holland
Hong Kong
Hungary
India
Ireland
Israel
Malaysia
New Zealand
Norway
Poland
Singapore
South Korea
Sweden
Switzerland
UK
Ukraine
USA
If you come from a country not on my list, do please add a comment at the bottom of the page.
It is such a thrill to know people from so many countries are interested and manage to understand what I'm saying! It puts my linguistic skills to shame!
Recent Readers
REFRIENDS | more..
Story Recommendations
Here are some of my all time favourite stories,which I highly recommend.
The Falcon and the Star - Raksha the Demon
http://www.tolkienfanfiction.com/Story_Read_Head.php?STid=695
The Taming of the Badger -Pentangle
http://www.naiceanilme.com/viewstory.php?sid=1011
Castle - Timmy 2222
http://www.naiceanilme.com/viewstory.php?sid=256
Conversion - Pentangle
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2841495/1/
In the hands of the Enemy - Meckinock
http://www.storiesofarda.com/chapterlistview.asp?SID=910
Arwen's Heart - Bodkin
http://www.storiesofarda.com/chapterlistview.asp?SID=3611
Getting away from it all - Bodkin
http://www.storiesofarda.com/chapterlistview.asp?SID=5389
Bare feet and Beer - Gwynnyd
http://www.storiesofarda.com/chapterlistview.asp?SID=2945
Flame of the West - Altariel
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/1680658/1/
Journey's End - Altariel
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3600767/1/
Blossoms - The Girl in a Red Jacket
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/1897638/1/
The Healer and the Warrior - Madeleine
http://www.storiesofarda.com/chapterlistview.asp?SID=4228
For love of the Lord of the White Tree - Legolass
http://www.storiesofarda.com/chapterlistview.asp?SID=3394
Historical Notes
The gruesome method of execution feared by Faramir in "Burden of Guilt" and which Dervorin was sentenced to in "Web of Treason" was an actual method used in Britain between 1241 and 1820.
To read more click below, but be warned, the information is not for the squeamish.
http://www.richard.clark32.btinternet.co.uk/hdq.html
http://www.richard.clark32.btinternet.co.uk/hanging1.html
Hanging was the official method of execution in the British Isles until it was abolished in 1964.
Tolkien does state that certain offences are punished by death in Middle-earth. However, he gives us no indication of the method used.
For example
For I am commanded to slay all whom I find in this land without the leave of the Lord of Gondor.
and
And the King said to Beregond: ‘Beregond, by your sword blood was spilled in the Hallows, where that is forbidden. Also you left your post without leave of Lord or of Captain. For these things, of old, death was the penalty. Now therefore I must pronounce your doom.
Silk shirts and Arrows
I learned about silk shirts proving some protection from arrows by watching a documentary about Genghis Khan on BBC TV.
The programme explained that the Mongul warriors were especially hard to overcome because if shot with arrows, they did not suffer such devasting injuries as their opononents as long as no vital organ was hit.
I quote here from the website of EduNet connect
"The Mongol army was based on lightly armoured horse archers. Under a quilted jacket or water-proofed leather jerkin, Mongol warriors wore a silk shirt. Even if an arrow penetrated their armour, unlike other cloth, the silk shirt would not tear but would wrap around the arrow head. This made it easier to remove the arrow and reduced the chance of infection. With cotton, wool or other cloth, bits of torn material would be driven into a wound making a dangerous infection likely."
http://www.edunetconnect.com/TimeMachine/northeastasia-700.php
Further information can be found at
http://www.sfusd.k12.ca.us/schwww/sch618/War/WarArmor.html
http://biphome.spray.se/coif/history/kublai/kublen03.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Military_advances_of_Genghis_Khan
Sponsors
Remedies in my stories
Remedies in my stories
Although I have no formal medical knowledge, I try to be as accurate as possible when I use various remedies in my stories.I try to have my healers in the stories use traditional remedies that were popular in ancient times and modern research has shown to be effective.
Here is further information about some of them
Honey - This has been used since ancient times but has recently aroused new interest, when it was found to combat MRSA antibiotic resistant infections.
These articles explain the research in detail.
http://www.worldwidewounds.com/2001/november/Molan/honey-as-topical-agent.html
http://islamic-world.net/sister/h15.htm
http:www.chm.bris.ac.uk/webprojects2001/wyatt/medicinal.htm
Hawthorn - A traditional remedy to strengthen the the heart, which has recently attracted renewed interest as a remedy for high blood pressure
"Hawthorn is traditionally known for its strong and powerful effect on the circulatory system, particularly the heart. It has been used for centuries with great success, especially in Europe. Even today it remains a favorite among herbalists as a cardiac tonic. Hawthorn is valued for nourishing blood pressure and circulation. When used on a regular, long-term basis hawthorn exerts a continued protection to the cardiovascular system."
http://www.all-natural.com/herbguid.html
Dandelion - Widely used in herbal medicine to treat fluid retention and liver problems.
http://www.botanical.com/botanical/mgmh/d/dandel08.html
Poppy Juice is opium, used to treat severe pain as morphine.It is highly addictive if wrongly used and abused by addicts as heroin.
http://www.botanical.com/botanical/mgmh/p/popwhi64.html
Hypericum or St.John's Wort is a popular herbal remedy for depression.In Germany,it is often prescribed by doctors instead of medicines like "Prozac". It can also be used as an ointment to treat bruises.
http://www.botanical.com/botanical/mgmh/s/sajohn06.html
Comfrey has been used to treat sprains, fractures and joint problems for at least 3,000 years.
http://wv.essortment.com/comfreyointment_rfkn.htm
Calendula or Marigold has traditionally been used as an antisptic cream to promote the healing of wounds.
http://www.alternative-medicine-info.com/alternative-medicine/Calendula-Ointment/Calendula-Ointment.html
Garlic has been used for thousands of years and was popular with the ancient Egyptians, Greeks and Romans.
It is a powerful natural antibiotic and anti- bacterial agent.It is also used to treat high cholesterol and blood pressure.
In folklore it is used for keeping vampires at bay !
http://www.garlic.mistral.co.uk/
http://www.garlic-central.com/
Rosehips are a valuable source of Vitamin C which fights infection and promotes healing.
Botanical Com http://www.botanical.com/ is a great source of information about the traditional uses of herbs.
Medicinal Herbs Guide is an up to date encyclopedia of herbs and their uses
http://www.herbsguide.net/
Other writers are welcome to make use of this generally available information.
A guide to my original characters
Aedred – A Rohirric Healer who now works alonside Tarostar in the Houses of Healing.
Agond - A former soldier from Lossarnach,now a drunkard living rough
Alis – Estranged wife to Mahrod
Beleg - a farmer from Lossarnach
Bereth – Sister to Damrod
Borlach - An old man, headman of a village in Lossarnach
Calardan – Husband to Hanna’s late sister
Doreth - Arwen’s housekeeper
Elbeth – Young daughter of Hanna
Elestelle - Faramir and Éowyn's daughter
Emerwen - Wife to Peladur and daughter in law to Beleg and Tasariel
Galadur - Younger son of Beleg and Tasariel
Gwinhir - Son of Vanreth and Finrod
Fennas – Brother to Hanna
Finrod - Husband of Vanreth
Fontos – Lord of Lossarnach, son of the late Forlong.
Fosco – Lord of Lamedon, son of the Lord mentioned in LOTR
Gudrun – An elderly widow born in Rohan, now owner of a smallholding and orchard near to Minas Tirith
Hanna – A kitchen maid, daughter of the Porter at the Rath Dinen, who was killed by Beregond
Hareth - A widow from a small village in Lossarnach
Meneldil – Lord of Lebennin
Lady Meril – One of Arwen’s ladies in waiting
Lady Morwen – One of Arwen’s ladies in waiting
Laerwen - One of Eldarion's nursery maids
Lamrung – A former prison warder, now a member of the Citadel Guard.
Mahrod – A former Ithilien Ranger, now a prison warder
Pelendur- Eldest son of Beleg and Tasariel,married to Emerwen
Tarostar – Chief Warden of the Houses of Healing, son of Denethor’s late sister.
Tasariel - Wife to Beleg and mother of Pelendur and Galadur
Thoron - A hot tempered youth from Lossarnach
Vanreth- Daughter of Hareth
Zana – Mother of Hanna and Fennas, grandmother to Elbeth, widow of the late porter.
Original characters found in "A Time to Reap"
Original characters introduced in this story:
The villagers
Beleg - a farmer
Tasariel - his wife, also the village healer
Pelendur and Galador - Beleg's sons
Emerwen - wife to Pelendur
Borlach - Headman of the village
Thoron - A hot-tempered youth
Hareth - a widow, mother of Vanreth
Vanreth - daughter of Hareth
Finrod - Vaneth's husband
Gwinhir - Infant son of Vanreth and Finrod
(Morrandir and Falborn are the names that Aragorn and Faramir use here to disguise their true identities)
Animals
Iovas - Faramir's chestnut mare, a wedding gift from Éomer.
Zachus - A bay gelding,given to Faramir by his father.
Nimrodel - Eldarion's spaniel puppy, a birthday gift from Faramir.
Laurea - Elbeth's ginger cat
A Time to Reap
My current story "A Time to Reap" owes much of its inspiration to the Grail legends.
I was inspired by the legend of wounded Fisher King in search of healing and the wasteland which cannot flourish unless the King is healed.
The lake represents an "otherworld" where time and the usual pressures of life have no meaning. Tolkien's Lothlorien is an example of such a place.
You can read more about the myths here
http://www.celticgrounds.com/chapters/mytholsection/c-otherwrlds.htm
Lakes were an important part of Celtic mythology.For example in the King Arthur legends,he is given his sword by the Lady of the Lake and taken acros a lake to be healed after his last battle.
http://www.earlybritishkingdoms.com/bios/nimue.html
I often think of my favourite operas when I write and I had the music of Wotan and Brünnhilde's embrace from Act 3 of " Die Walküre " in my mind when I wrote Aragorn and Faramir's reconcilliation.
The Grail Realm in Wagner's "Parsifal" also helped inspire certain scenes.
Aragorn and Faramir's experience of oneness with all is best summed up in the Sanskrit phase "Tat Twam Asi" which is fully explained here,
http://www.mihira.com/mihmar99/THAT_YOU_ARE.htm
The story also contains other spiritual themes which will further unfold as the story unravels.
You can read more about the food in the story at www.GodeCookery.com
Aragorn is using a cradle scythe to harvest the wheat.
You can learn more about reaping in olden days at
http://www.londonmuseum.on.ca/Artifacts/TheForks/mvc-899f.html
http://www.1911encyclopedia.org/Reaping
http://www.saskschools.ca/~gregory/tools.html
Aragorn uses reflexology to treat Faramir.
http://www.ofesite.com/health/reflex/chart/index.htm
http://www.reflexology.org/
and accupressure in the previous chapter
http://www.beatcfs.info/accpress.htm
http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/002117.htm
Although, the creature that attacked Faramir is based on Shelob, I have also based his symtoms on real life spider bites. If you are interested, you can read more here.
http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/first-aid-spider-bites/FA00048
This scene near my home was the inspiration for the river bank where Aragorn and Faramir sunbathe.
Traditional English cornfields adorned with poppies. Such sights are sadly rare nowadays but were commonplace before the Second World War.
http://www.stats.ox.ac.uk/~ripley/Photos/Vercors2004/d29v0426.html
shrewsbury.gov.uk/.../Gallery/outoftown.htm
and this is what they were wearing when they swam in the river
These were based on a 12th century illustration.
You can see a whole range of replical mediaeval clothing at
http://www.historicenterprises.com/ from which this photo is taken.
Tolkien's Thoughts
I have been browsing Tolkien's letters and as I came across these interesting references to my favourite characters and will share them here,
Eowyn
244 From a draft to a reader of The Lord of the Rings [A fragment at the top of which Tolkien has written: 'Comments on a criticism (now lost?) concerning Faramir & Eowyn (c. 1963).']
Eowyn: It is possible to love more than one person (of the other sex) at the same time, but in a different mode and intensity. I do not think that Eowyn's feelings for Aragorn really changed much; and when he was revealed as so lofty a figure, in descent and office, she was able to go on loving and admiring him. He was old, and that is not only a physical quality: when not accompanied by any physical decay age can be alarming or awe-inspiring. Also she was not herself ambitious in the true political sense. Though not a 'dry nurse' in temper, she was also not really a soldier or 'amazon', but like many brave women was capable of great military gallantry at a crisis.
Faramir
I think you misunderstand Faramir. He was daunted by his father: not only in the ordinary way of a family with a stern proud father of great force of character, but as a Númenórean before the chief of the one surviving Númenórean state. He was motherless and sisterless (Eowyn was also motherless), and had a 'bossy' brother. He had been accustomed to giving way and not giving his own opinions air, while retaining a power of command among men, such as a man may obtain who is evidently personally courageous and decisive, but also modest, fair-minded and scrupulously just, and very merciful. I think he understood Eowyn very well. Also to be Prince of Ithilien, the greatest noble after Dol Amroth in the revived Númenórean state of Gondor, soon to be of imperial power and prestige, was not a 'market-garden job' as you term it. Until much had been done by the restored King, the P. of Ithilien would be the resident march-warden of Gondor, in its main eastward outpost – and also would have many duties in rehabilitating the lost territory, and clearing it of outlaws and orc-remnants, not to speak of the dreadful vale of Minas Ithil (Morgul). I did not, naturally, go into details about the way in which Aragorn, as King of Gondor, would govern the realm. But it was made clear that there was much fighting, and in the earlier years of A.'s reign expeditions against enemies in the East. The chief commanders, under the King, would be Faramir and Imrahil; and one of these would normally remain a military commander at home in the King's absence. A Númenórean King was monarch, with the power of unquestioned decision in debate; but he governed the realm with the frame of ancient law, of which he was administrator (and interpreter) but not the maker. In all debatable matters of importance domestic, or external, however, even Denethor had a Council, and at least listened to what the Lords of the Fiefs and the Captains of the Forces had to say. Aragorn re-established the Great Council of Gondor, and in that Faramir, who remained by inheritance the Steward (or representative of the King during his absence abroad, or sickness, or between his death and the accession of his heir) would [be] the chief counsellor.
Criticism of the speed of the relationship or 'love' of Faramir and Eowyn. In my experience feelings and decisions ripen very quickly (as measured by mere 'clock-time', which is actually not justly applicable) in periods of great stress, and especially under the expectation of imminent death. And I do not think that persons of high estate and breeding need all the petty fencing and approaches in matters of 'love'. This tale does not deal with a period of 'Courtly Love' and its pretences; but with a culture more primitive (sc. less corrupt) and nobler.
Aragorn
A difference in the use of 'magic' in this story is that it is not to be come by by 'lore' or spells; but is in an inherent power not possessed or attainable by Men as such. Aragorn's 'healing' might be regarded as 'magical', or at least a blend of magic with pharmacy and 'hypnotic' processes. But it is (in theory) reported by hobbits who have very little notions of philosophy and science; while Aragorn is not a pure 'Man', but at long remove one of the 'children of Lúthien'." (155)
Arwen and her Family
The view is that the Half-elven have a power of (irrevocable) choice, which may be delayed but not permanently, which kin's fate they will share. Elros chose to be a King and 'longaevus' but mortal, so all his descendants are mortal, and of a specially noble race, but with dwindling longevity: so Aragorn (who, however, has a greater life-span than his contemporaries, double, though not the original Númenórean treble, that of Men). Elrond chose to be among the Elves. His children – with a renewed Elvish strain, since their mother was Celebrían dtr. of Galadriel – have to make their choices. Arwen is not a 're-incarnation' of Lúthien (that in the view of this mythical history would be impossible, since Lúthien has died like a mortal and left the world of time) but a descendant very like her in looks, character, and fate. When she weds Aragorn (whose love-story elsewhere recounted is not here central and only occasionally referred to) she 'makes the choice of Lúthien', so the grief at her parting from Elrond is specially poignant. Elrond passes Over Sea. The end of his sons, Elladan and Elrohir, is not told: they delay their choice, and remain for a while (153)
Religion(an inspiration for 'A Time to Reap')
So while God (Eru) was a datum of good[1] Númenórean philosophy, and a prime fact in their conception of history. He had at the time of the War of the Ring no worship and no hallowed place. And that kind of negative truth was characteristic of the West, and all the area under Numenorean influence: the refusal to worship any 'creature', and above all no 'dark lord' or satanic demon, Sauron, or any other, was almost as far as they got. They had (I imagine) no petitionary prayers to God ; but preserved the vestige of thanksgiving. (Those under special Elvish influence might call on the angelic powers for help in immediate peril or fear of evil enemies.[2]) It later appears that there had been a 'hallow' on Mindolluin, only approachable by the King, where he had anciently offered thanks and praise on behalf of his people; but it had been forgotten. It was re-entered by Aragorn, and there he found a sapling of the White Tree, and replanted it in the Court of the Fountain. It is to be presumed that with the reemergence of the lineal priest kings (of whom Lúthien the Blessed Elf-maiden was a foremother) the worship of God would be renewed, and His Name (or title) be again more often heard. But there would be no temple of the True God while Númenórean influence lasted.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[1] There were evil Númenóreans: Sauronians, but they do not come into this story, except remotely; as the wicked Kings who had become Nazgûl or Ringwraiths.
[2] The Elves often called on Varda-Elbereth, the Queen of the Blessed Realm, their especial friend; and so does Frodo.
An early version of Faramir's Healing found in History of Middle earth - The War of the Ring.
By evening of 15th ((in pencil 14 )in a blood red sun victory is complete. All enemy is driven into or back over Anduin. Aragorn sets up his pavilion and standard outside gate, but will not enter city, yet. Denethor comes down to greet the victors. Theoden dies. He bids farewell to Gandalf, Aragorn, Eomer and Merry. Theoden and Eowyn laid for a time in the royal tombs.
Words of Aragorn and Denethor. Denethor will not yield Stewardship, yet: not until war is won or lost and all is made clear. He is cold and suspicious and? mock-courteous. Aragorn grave and silent. But Denethor says that Belike the Stewardship will run out anyway, since he seems like to lose both his sons. Faramir is sick of his wounds. If he dies then Gondor can take what new lord it likes. Aragorn says he will not be ‘taken’, he will take, but asks to see Faramir. Faramir is brought out and Aragorn tends him all that night, and love springs between them.
Aragorn and Faramir's Friendship
I subscribe to a newsletter called "Daily Om" and found the article for August 23th 2006 to to extremely appropriate with regard to Aragorn and Faramir's friendship.
I quote
August 23, 2006
To Be Human
Putting People On Pedestals
When we fall in love with someone or make a new friend, we sometimes see that person in a glowing light. Their good qualities dominate the foreground of our perception and their negative qualities. They just don't seem to have any. This temporary state of grace is commonly known as putting someone on a pedestal. Often times we put spiritual leaders and our gurus on pedestals. We have all done this to someone at one time or another, and as long as we remember that no one is actually "perfect," the pedestal phase of a relationship can be enjoyed for what it is-a phase. It's when we actually believe our own projection that troubles arise.
Everyone has problems, flaws, and blind spots, just as we do. When we entertain the illusion that someone is perfect, we don't allow them room to be human, so when they make an error in judgment or act in contradiction to our idea of perfection, we become disillusioned. We may get angry or distance ourselves in response. In the end, they are not to blame for the fact that we idealized them. Granted, they may have enjoyed seeing themselves as perfect through our eyes, but we are the ones who chose to believe an illusion. If you go through this process enough times, you learn that no one is perfect. We are all a combination of divine and human qualities and we all struggle. When we treat the people we love with this awareness, we actually allow for a much greater intimacy than when we held them aloft on an airy throne. The moment you see through your idealized projection is the moment you begin to see your loved one as he or she truly is.
We cannot truly connect with a person when we idealize them. In life, there are no pedestals-we are all walking on the same ground together. When we realize this, we can own our own divinity and our humanity. This is the key to balance and wholeness within ourselves and our relationships.
The "Daily Om" website is at
http://www.dailyom.com/
Touch
This is another insightful article from Daily OM,this time from January 17th 2008, which could well apply to Aragorn's healing methods.
Healing Our Bodies
Touch
Sometimes we might concentrate so much on our spiritual lives that we overlook the wonders of being present in our physical form. When we are more aware of the fact that our bodies are also important in terms of our personal growth, we may find it easier to nurture them. One of the most powerful ways to do this is through human touch, for a loving, comforting touch allows us to access the part of ourselves that yearns for a sense of oneness with the world around us. Even simple forms of touch connect us not just to our bodies but also to the energetic presence of other people.
There are so many ways to incorporate touch in our daily lives, one of the easiest being a heartfelt embrace. Just making a point to hug someone on a daily basis and really feel our energy pass between each other can strengthen the bonds that keep us together. Hugs help us heal any hurt or upset we may have recently experienced by letting us release into the moment of the embrace and realize that no matter what happens to us, we have someone in our lives who supports and cares for us.
Another nourishing form of touch is massage. While we may think of massage as a luxury, it is actually an ancient form of healing that enables us to open up our energetic pathways in order to receive unlimited energy from the universe. It doesn’t matter whether a simple massage comes from a loved one or a massage therapist, but by giving ourselves the gift of massage every once in a while, we are doing something healthy and beneficial for our bodies. Massage helps our bodies activate their own restorative powers, creating a wonderful way to engage fully in our own healing.
Letting ourselves take advantage of the healing nature of touch creates space where we can truly live in and experience the world through our bodies, allowing us to completely immerse ourselves in the loving sense of joy and wonder that is our life.
You can find Daily OM at
http://www.dailyom.com/cgi-bin/browse/browse.cgi
Thought Bonding
The "Thought Bonding" I use in my stories was inspired by the Vulcan "Mind Meld" used in "Star Trek".
http://www.memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Vulcan_mind_meld
I have also incorporated elements of the spontaneous telepathy that can occur between close friends and relatives.
In my stories, it can only occur between two people who love each other and are in harmony.It is initiated by touching foreheads together, but once a close bond is formed, contact is not always needed to share a telepathic link.
The idea came to me from reading about the Numenorian and Elven enhanced mental abilities .
When Aragorn heals Faramir, he has his hand on his head,as if attempting to somehow communicate with him.
Now Aragorn knelt beside Faramir, and held a hand upon his brow. And those that watched felt that some great struggle was going on. For Aragorn’s face grew grey with weariness; and ever and anon he called the name of Faramir, but each time more faintly to their hearing, as if Aragorn himself was removed from them, and walked afar in some dark vale, calling for one that was lost.
Arwen is able to watch over Aragorn from afar in thought.
Arwen remained in Rivendell, and when Aragorn was abroad, from afar she watched over him in thought;
Aragorn's Ordeal and its after effects in "Web of Treason
When I wrote about how Aragorn is effected by the cruel torture he undergoes in "Web of Treason" and "A time to Reap" I used information supplied by the following organisations who do valuable work to help real life torture survivors.
The Medical Foundation
http://www.torturecare.org.uk/
Amnesty International
http://www.amnesty.org/
You can support Amnesty's work for free by clicking the button on this page each day.
http://stopviolence.care2.com/
I quote here from "The Physicians for Human Rights " Website
http://www.phrusa.org/research/torture/tort_faq.html
"Victims often suffer from psychological symptoms such as lack of sleep, nightmares, problems with concentration, anxiety, depression, irritability, adjustment disorders, impotence, and feelings of powerlessness, shame and guilt."
and the website of "Torture Abolition and Survivors Support Committee"
http://www.kurdistan.org/you-can-end-it/bro1.html
"The psychological effects of torture often include: recurrent nightmares, the inability to sleep or fear of sleep, flashbacks, chronic anxiety, feelings of betrayal and the inability to trust any other person. These psycho- logical consequences are likely to have devastating, long-term effects not only on survivors but their families, friends, and communities as well."
Faramir's feelings in Burden of Guilt
Faramir is suffering from clinical depression for much of "Burden of Guilt"
.An unusually sad mood that does not go away
Loss of enjoyment and interest in activities that used to be enjoyable
Tiredness and lack of energy
Loss of confidence in themselves or poor self-esteem
Feeling guilty when they are not at fault
Wishing they were dead
Difficulty concentrating or making decisions
Moving more slowly or, sometimes becoming agitated and unable to settle
Having sleeping difficulties or, sometimes, sleeping too much
Loss of interest in food or, sometimes eating too much. Changes in eating habits may lead to either loss of weight or putting on weight.
Taken from http://bluepages.anu.edu.au/symptoms/diagnosis/
Faramir's reactions to the fear what Mahrod may have done to him, also form a thread in the story.
Below is a link to a site for victims of sexual abuse
http://www.dcrcc.org/home.htm
Please note,the content is unsuitable for children.
Pictures
I use the symbolism of the rainbow in several of my stories.
Wallpapers
A reader, Elenhin Kindly made some wallpapers to illustrate my stories. My Faramir is not the film version, but the designs illustrate the themes of the stories well.
Burden of Guilt.
Web of Treason
Quotation Resources
I know many of you find the quotations I use interesting.
Some I already know.
I find many others at
http://www.bartleby.com/quotations/
I take many from the Bible or Shakespeare which can be found online at
http://www.biblegateway.com/
http://www-tech.mit.edu/Shakespeare/
I also often use the librettos of Wagner's operas
http://www.rwagner.net/e-t-opere.html
Faramir's Ancestry
In HoME XII (The Peoples of Middle-earth) this appears which failed to make it into the final draft of The Stewards of Gondor (Appendix A) in the ROTK Appendices:
These may be added, for though not in the direct line, the Hurinionath, the family to which Pelendur and Mardil belonged, were of Numenorean blood hardly less pure than that of the kings, and undoubtedly had some share in the actual blood of Elendil and Anarion.
It is unclear whether that means that they were related to Elendil via his ancestors or actually descended from Elendil, but there does seem to be an implied connection, though not in the direct line (father to son). (page 218, hardcover edition, in Ch. VII, The Heirs of Elendil)
Several pages earlier, there's another version of the same paragraph:
Here follows the roll of the Stewards of Gondor
that ruled the realm and city between the going of Earnur
and the coming of Elessar
The Ruling Stewards of Gondor
The names of these rulers are here added; for though the Hurinionath were not in the direct line of descent from Elendil, they were ultimately of royal origin, and had in any case kept their blood more pure than most other families in the later ages.
But...this is still not canonical. And Faramir says plainly in TTT that
We of my house are not of the line of Elendil. though the blood of Numenor is in us.
It could,however be that Faramir meant that his house is not of the direct, father-to-son line of Elendil (remember that Pelendur rejected Arvedui's claim to the throne of Gondor on behalf of his wife Firiel who was the daughter of Ondoher, the last King of Gondor of the line of Anarion).
Personally,I think it highly unlikely that a Hurin never married at least a younger daughter of one of the Kings,so I felt justified in creating a granddaughter for Elendil who married an ancestor of Faramir's,especially as Tolkien rarely mentioned daughters in his histories of the Kings and Stewards.
With thanks to Raksha for researching this information.
Sponsors
The Volsung Saga
Tolkien was inspired by various mythic sources when he wrote "The Lord of the Rings".
One of his main sources was the "Volsung Saga"
which you can read here.
http://omacl.org/Volsunga/
This old Norse epic was also the inspiration for Wagner's "Der Ring des Nibelungen", which I often quote from in my chapter headings.
To cut a very long story short-
Alberich/Andvardi steals the Rhine gold and makes a magic ring from it.
Wotan/Odin asks the giants to build a castle, Valhalla for him.He steals Alberich's ring to pay them.
Alberich curses the ring to be desired by all and bring death to all who own it.
Wotan is now enthralled by the ring and refuses to part with it but relents when the Wala(pronounced Vala),Erda counsels him to relinquish it.
The curse takes immediate effect as one of the giants kills the other.
Many years pass and Wotan anxious to regain the ring, rathers a hero, Siegmund.Meanwhile, Alberich has also fathered a son,Hagen/Hogni while the surviving giant, Fafner/Fafnir has turned himself into a dragon to guard the Ring. Wotan's plans go awry and he orders his daughter Brünnhilde /Brynhild to see that Siegmund is killed in battle.
Brünnhilde decides to spare him,thereby incurring Wotan's wrath.He imprisons her on a mountain,where she will sleep surrounded by fire until a fearless hero awakens her.She will lose her immortality by marrying a mortal.
About twenty years later,Wotan has taken to wandering the world as an old man dressed in a grey cloak. Siegfried/Sigurd the son of Siegmund kills the dragon, Fafner and takes the magic ring for his own. He then awakens Brünnhilde and claims him as his bride.
Eager for new adventures, Siegfried leaves Brünnhilde after giving her the ring. He travels to the Hall of the Gibichungs when Gunter/Gunnar lives with his sister Gutrune/Gudrun and half brother Hagen.
They give him a drink to make him forget Brünnhilde and fall in love with Gutrune.Siegfried then agrees to win Brünnhilde for Gunther.
Betrayed and furious, Brünnhilde conspires with Hagen to kill Siegfried,which he does.
She then learns the truth and over come with remorse orders a funeral pyre to be built for Siegfried.Once it is lit she jumps on it and the flames rise to consume Valhalla and all the gods within.
The Rhine floods the hall and Hagen is drowned and the ring restored to the Rhine.
A new age of men dawns,now the gods are no more.
You can hear music from the Ring Cycle here.
http://www-scf.usc.edu/~gishii/ahis001/wagner/downloads/index.html
and read the librettos here
http://www.karadar.com/Operas/wagner.html
I grew to know and love these operas when I was in my teens and the fact they were inspired by the same myths was what first drew me to Tolkien about ten years later.
There are some ideas found only in Wagner and Tolkien and not in the original myth,the most notable being the ring having the power to devastate the world and an immortal woman losing her immortality to marry a human.
I am well aware that Tolkien claimed the only thing his work had in common with Wagner's is that "both rings are round", but am more inclined to agree with the writer of a Tolkien study I recently read, who felt Tolkien protested too much and was indeed influenced by Wagner's Ring.
My Favourite Tolkien Links
Here are my favourite links to some both well and little known sites, which I have found very helpful both as sources of inspiration and information.
The Encyclopedia of Arda, is an essential site for any fanfic writer,an invaluable reference guide to everyone and everything mentioned in Tolkien's works.
http://www.glyphweb.com/ARDA/
The Thain's Book
http://www.tuckborough.net/
An encyclopedia of Middle-earth in the Third Age divided into detailed sections on People,Places, Things, Creatures and Events.
Mythic Truth - http://www.mythictruth.com/
This is a very interesting and detailed site about Catholic influences in "Lord of the Rings".
Highly recommended, it greatly enhanced my enjoyment of the book as well as giving me ideas to help me with writing my stories.
Talking about Tolkien - http://www.talkingabouttolkien.com/index_english.html
An interesting site with lots of photos of Tolkien and info about his work. It is being compiled for Chinese fans but is in English too.
It even tells you what lines from the book found their way into the films and has the timeline,useful if your copy of LOTR Is in another room while writing a fanfic.
There are also links to audio and video of the Professor.
From pointy ears to Grima's tears -
investigations of a Tolkien enthusiast
A collection of essays on various subjects the most interesting being about healing in Middle-earth
http://www.istad.org/tolkien/
Finduilas's J.R.R Tolkien Page
Information and essays concerning Tolkien's world, from timelines to speculations about magic in Middle earth.
http://fin.go.wifl.at.org/layers/html/main.shtml
An interesting essay about different kinds of love and friendship, as well as sex in Tolkien's work.
Warm beds are Good
http://www.ansereg.com/WarmBedsareGood.pdf
A very useful list quoting what Tolkien has to say about the hair and eye colour of his characters.
Tolkien Geek
A delightful site summarising and commenting on Tolkien's works.
http://tolkiengeek.blogspot.com/
Hair and Eye Colours
http://www.lcwsites.org/~lisa/colors.html
Sindarin Dictionary
http://www.jrrvf.com/hisweloke/sindar/online/sindar/dict-sd-en.html
Readers from many lands
I am thrilled and honoured to have past and present readers from all over the world.
They come from
Australia
Belgium
Brazil
Canada
China
Czech Republic
Denmark
Finland
France
Germany
Greece
Guyana
Holland
Hong Kong
Hungary
India
Ireland
Israel
Malaysia
New Zealand
Norway
Poland
Singapore
South Korea
Sweden
Switzerland
UK
Ukraine
USA
If you come from a country not on my list, do please add a comment at the bottom of the page.
It is such a thrill to know people from so many countries are interested and manage to understand what I'm saying! It puts my linguistic skills to shame!
Recent Readers
REFRIENDS | more..
Story Recommendations
Here are some of my all time favourite stories,which I highly recommend.
The Falcon and the Star - Raksha the Demon
http://www.tolkienfanfiction.com/Story_Read_Head.php?STid=695
The Taming of the Badger -Pentangle
http://www.naiceanilme.com/viewstory.php?sid=1011
Castle - Timmy 2222
http://www.naiceanilme.com/viewstory.php?sid=256
Conversion - Pentangle
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2841495/1/
In the hands of the Enemy - Meckinock
http://www.storiesofarda.com/chapterlistview.asp?SID=910
Arwen's Heart - Bodkin
http://www.storiesofarda.com/chapterlistview.asp?SID=3611
Getting away from it all - Bodkin
http://www.storiesofarda.com/chapterlistview.asp?SID=5389
Bare feet and Beer - Gwynnyd
http://www.storiesofarda.com/chapterlistview.asp?SID=2945
Flame of the West - Altariel
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/1680658/1/
Journey's End - Altariel
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3600767/1/
Blossoms - The Girl in a Red Jacket
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/1897638/1/
The Healer and the Warrior - Madeleine
http://www.storiesofarda.com/chapterlistview.asp?SID=4228
For love of the Lord of the White Tree - Legolass
http://www.storiesofarda.com/chapterlistview.asp?SID=3394
Historical Notes
The gruesome method of execution feared by Faramir in "Burden of Guilt" and which Dervorin was sentenced to in "Web of Treason" was an actual method used in Britain between 1241 and 1820.
To read more click below, but be warned, the information is not for the squeamish.
http://www.richard.clark32.btinternet.co.uk/hdq.html
http://www.richard.clark32.btinternet.co.uk/hanging1.html
Hanging was the official method of execution in the British Isles until it was abolished in 1964.
Tolkien does state that certain offences are punished by death in Middle-earth. However, he gives us no indication of the method used.
For example
For I am commanded to slay all whom I find in this land without the leave of the Lord of Gondor.
and
And the King said to Beregond: ‘Beregond, by your sword blood was spilled in the Hallows, where that is forbidden. Also you left your post without leave of Lord or of Captain. For these things, of old, death was the penalty. Now therefore I must pronounce your doom.
Silk shirts and Arrows
I learned about silk shirts proving some protection from arrows by watching a documentary about Genghis Khan on BBC TV.
The programme explained that the Mongul warriors were especially hard to overcome because if shot with arrows, they did not suffer such devasting injuries as their opononents as long as no vital organ was hit.
I quote here from the website of EduNet connect
"The Mongol army was based on lightly armoured horse archers. Under a quilted jacket or water-proofed leather jerkin, Mongol warriors wore a silk shirt. Even if an arrow penetrated their armour, unlike other cloth, the silk shirt would not tear but would wrap around the arrow head. This made it easier to remove the arrow and reduced the chance of infection. With cotton, wool or other cloth, bits of torn material would be driven into a wound making a dangerous infection likely."
http://www.edunetconnect.com/TimeMachine/northeastasia-700.php
Further information can be found at
http://www.sfusd.k12.ca.us/schwww/sch618/War/WarArmor.html
http://biphome.spray.se/coif/history/kublai/kublen03.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Military_advances_of_Genghis_Khan
Sponsors
Remedies in my stories
Remedies in my stories
Although I have no formal medical knowledge, I try to be as accurate as possible when I use various remedies in my stories.I try to have my healers in the stories use traditional remedies that were popular in ancient times and modern research has shown to be effective.
Here is further information about some of them
Honey - This has been used since ancient times but has recently aroused new interest, when it was found to combat MRSA antibiotic resistant infections.
These articles explain the research in detail.
http://www.worldwidewounds.com/2001/november/Molan/honey-as-topical-agent.html
http://islamic-world.net/sister/h15.htm
http:www.chm.bris.ac.uk/webprojects2001/wyatt/medicinal.htm
Hawthorn - A traditional remedy to strengthen the the heart, which has recently attracted renewed interest as a remedy for high blood pressure
"Hawthorn is traditionally known for its strong and powerful effect on the circulatory system, particularly the heart. It has been used for centuries with great success, especially in Europe. Even today it remains a favorite among herbalists as a cardiac tonic. Hawthorn is valued for nourishing blood pressure and circulation. When used on a regular, long-term basis hawthorn exerts a continued protection to the cardiovascular system."
http://www.all-natural.com/herbguid.html
Dandelion - Widely used in herbal medicine to treat fluid retention and liver problems.
http://www.botanical.com/botanical/mgmh/d/dandel08.html
Poppy Juice is opium, used to treat severe pain as morphine.It is highly addictive if wrongly used and abused by addicts as heroin.
http://www.botanical.com/botanical/mgmh/p/popwhi64.html
Hypericum or St.John's Wort is a popular herbal remedy for depression.In Germany,it is often prescribed by doctors instead of medicines like "Prozac". It can also be used as an ointment to treat bruises.
http://www.botanical.com/botanical/mgmh/s/sajohn06.html
Comfrey has been used to treat sprains, fractures and joint problems for at least 3,000 years.
http://wv.essortment.com/comfreyointment_rfkn.htm
Calendula or Marigold has traditionally been used as an antisptic cream to promote the healing of wounds.
http://www.alternative-medicine-info.com/alternative-medicine/Calendula-Ointment/Calendula-Ointment.html
Garlic has been used for thousands of years and was popular with the ancient Egyptians, Greeks and Romans.
It is a powerful natural antibiotic and anti- bacterial agent.It is also used to treat high cholesterol and blood pressure.
In folklore it is used for keeping vampires at bay !
http://www.garlic.mistral.co.uk/
http://www.garlic-central.com/
Rosehips are a valuable source of Vitamin C which fights infection and promotes healing.
Botanical Com http://www.botanical.com/ is a great source of information about the traditional uses of herbs.
Medicinal Herbs Guide is an up to date encyclopedia of herbs and their uses
http://www.herbsguide.net/
Other writers are welcome to make use of this generally available information.
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