Stories of Arda - Lord of the Rings Fan-Fiction Archive

Disclaimer – Middle-earth belongs to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.

The two lads peered out from the side of the barn they were concealing themselves behind to observe the old woman disappearing down the lane.

“She won’t be back till sunset,” said one, a lanky young fellow with a birthmark disfiguring his cheek.

“How d' ye know, Will?” asked the other, a shorter youth with an unruly mob of brown hair.

“She be visiting Widow Appledore, and those two old biddies can talk a donkey’s hind leg off! Come on, Bob let’s be getting the eggs.”

“They won’t,” Will said firmly. “Not when there be Rangers around. I saw two of the scoundrels hanging around here last night. We’ll take the eggs into Bree to sell and should make a tidy bit of brass for them.”

“My eggs have been stolen!” The woman’s cry drew the attention of her neighbours who hurried out of their cottages or in from the surrounding fields and gardens where they were working.

“I went into the hen house to collect my eggs to take to market and they have vanished, every one!” said the woman.

“What sort of despicable scoundrel would rob a poor old woman?” cried a man.

“There be Rangers in the area,” said Bob. “I saw two skulking around Mistress Appledore’s cottage last night.”

“Let’s find them and teach them a lesson they won’t forget!” said the man.

Aragorn and Halbarad were enjoying a leisurely luncheon in a field adjacent to Widow Appledore’s orchard. Hearing angry voices approaching they rose to their feet and prepared to draw their swords.

“These be those good for nothing Rangers I saw taking your eggs!” cried Bob.

“We have robbed no one,” Aragorn said calmly, though he regarded the dozen or so angry country folk with dismay.

“A full basket of eggs. When I looked this morning my hens had laid a fine clutch of large brown eggs and now they are gone! How could you do such a thing?” She dabbed her eyes with her apron.

“What’s that on your plates then?” said Mistress Appledore. “It looks like eggs to me!”

“A woman in Bree gave us half a dozen in exchange for mending her roof,” Aragorn explained.

“Fiddlesticks!” cried the man. “You stole them! Now have the decency to pay for them and apologise.”

“Thieves, filthy vagabonds!” shouted the man, spitting in the direction of the two Rangers.

“It seems our looks are against us, Aragorn remarked wryly once he had got his breath back.

“We try to help them and they repay us thus!” Halbarad said angrily. ”If they but knew who you were ...”

“They would not believe it if they did,” Aragorn replied taking a swig of water from his water skin.

“One day you will come into your own then those who reviled and falsely accused you will tremble, while others will cheer as you pass by,” said Halbarad.

Aragorn rose to his feet. “Come on, we cannot linger and brood on the matter. Orcs have been sighted in this area and will be abroad when night falls. We must be ready for them.”

A crowd lined the roadside as the King and Queen ride through Bree. Amongst them were two men in their middle years, a tall man with a birthmark on his face and a stocky fellow with unruly greying hair.

The King reined in his horse and cried in a loud voice “Good people, you are all invited to a feast to celebrate my return to these lands.” Espying Nob whom he recalled from the Prancing Pony, he dismounted and went to speak to the Hobbit.

“I be certain he be one of those Rangers who hung around here years back!” Bob replied.

“Maybe you be right,” said Will. Not waiting to see if their suspicions were correct, the two fled.

“Who cares, there will be all the more food for us to enjoy,” the neighbour replied.

B2MeM Challenge The Steward and his Sons - Seek for the sword that was broken; Tolkien's Tree- Nimloth.. Facets of Faramir - Questioner. Last Lines- - was alive but taken by the enemy.

These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.

He should have been granted the errand. It was his dream! Faramir groaned in frustration and ran his hands through his dark hair. To be fair, Boromir had dreamed the same dream, but only after Faramir had recounted it to his brother. Maybe Boromir had sensed his thoughts as they had slept alongside each other on the eve of the battle. Alternatively, had he talked in his sleep and caused his brother to dream?

Why had his father decided to send Boromir? His brother could less easily be spared. Faramir had questioned his father but received no answers. He could guess them, though. Denethor did not trust him. He knew the old lore as well as his father did.

Many swords had been broken in countless battles against the enemy as well as in kinstrife. Only one broken sword was deemed worthy of remembrance, though, Narsil, the sword of Elendil that had been shattered beneath him. His son, Isildur had pulled the broken sword from beneath his father’s body and cut the thing of which we do not speak, from the Dark Lord’s hand. Mithrandir had told him the tale.

Faramir thought of other dreams that he had dreamed; of the White Tree, alive and blossoming, as fair as Nimloth of old. Beside the tree had stood a man, tall and mighty as Elendil himself, wearing a crown and bearing a sceptre. Faramir had knelt to pay him homage and the King had smiled.

Months had passed, though, and there was no news of Boromir. Had some mishap befallen him? Surely he would sense if Boromir had been slain? Or what if an even worse fate had befallen him? He was alive but taken by the enemy?

B2MeM Challenge Song lyrics - Even though you're a big strong girl the best laid plans are in your open hands. The Steward and his Sons - Seek for the sword that was broken; Tolkien's Tree- Nimloth.. Book Titles - Dead Poet's Society. Facets of Faramir - Questioner. Last Lines- - was alive but taken by the enemy.

Warnings: Total hokum to fit in my prompts until I could write something better as the Muses were being stubborn yesterday.

These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.

“I do not understand why you are so keen on this “Dead Poets Society,” said Éowyn. “You should concentrate on living poets. You are a fine poet yourself, who can write poetry of your own, rather than merely study the words of men long dead.”

“Always so practical, my Éowyn!” Faramir kissed her. “Even though you’re such a strong woman, the best laid plans are your open hands!”

“There you go making up poems again,” said Éowyn. “It just proves what I said.”

“Your words are wise,” said Faramir. “I will suggest that each member of the society write a new poem and read it to the others at the next meeting we hold.”

“Nimloth, of which our White Tree is a scion,” said Faramir. “Or maybe about the dream Boromir and I had, telling us to seek for the sword that was broken.

“Why not write one about a poisoner, who killed all the poets of old? Or maybe the poets are still alive but taken prisoner by the enemy?”

Disclaimer – Middle-earth belongs to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.

The father and his two children walked through the peaceful country lanes together.

"What bird is that?" asked his son, espying a black and white bird a little way ahead of them.

"Can you eat those?" his daughter enquired when they passed a tree laden with scarlet berries.

"No, they taste bitter, but you can make medicine from them. Now, those berries on the far side of the lane are good to eat, but the nightshade plant beside them is poisonous." The man paused and pointed to some hardly noticeable tracks in the grass. "Look, a deer and her baby have passed by here! Shall we follow the trail?"

A little while later the family caught a glimpse of a doe suckling her fawn. The children gasped in wonder.

The man paused, lost in thought. "When I was a lad, twenty years or more ago, I worked for old Butterbur in the Pony," he replied. "Rangers, strange wandering men, would sometimes call at the inn. We were all scared of such grim looking folk. Then one of them took ill and had to bide a while at the inn. Butterbur said I must take him his meals. I was right scared, but it turned out he was kindly enough once you got to know him. While he was recovering, he taught me all manner of interesting things that I never forgot."

"I don't rightly know, but I'd hazard a guess that the poor man perished in some lonely ditch. He was a fine woodsman and taught me well; but I fear no good came of such a wild, grim fellow!"

Today's Challenge:
"Darkness is only driven out with light, not more darkness."
-Martin Luther King, Jr.

Write a story or poem or create artwork where your character battles and overcomes their darkest hour.

Title: The Price of Love
Author: Linda Hoyland
Characters/Pairing: Aragorn,Ecthelion, Denethor,Arwen
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Book/Source: LOTR book-verse
Disclaimer - These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.

Aragorn sat in his cabin, staring through the porthole. They would soon reach land and he would have to leave its sanctuary. Above him, he could hear his comrades still celebrating their victory over the Corsairs far into the night.

If only he could return with them and deliver the tidings of victory himself to Ecthelion! He loved the old Steward dearly, and knew that love was returned. Why, though did love have to be so destructive? The first man he had loved as a father was now somewhat cold towards him because of his love for Arwen. He had come to Gondor in the hope of winning renown and with it the love of Elrond's daughter and his foster father's consent to woo her.

He had found the honours he sought in Gondor and more,the fatherly love of her Steward, Ecthelion. Aragorn had never sought to take Ecthelion's love from his son and heir, Denethor,but despite his attempts to be but a faithful Captain, his bond with the Steward had grown. Aragorn could imagine the father he had never known as being not unlike the Steward, while Ecthelion had yearned for someone who would give him the warmth and affection that Denethor was so loth to express.

Denethor had grown to hate Aragorn for the bond that had formed with his father and had set about trying to discover his true identity. Aragorn was certain now that Denethor knew he was heir to the throne of Gondor, as did his father. What he feared was the use either might make of that knowledge.

Ecthelion loved him, maybe more than he loved the son of his loins;the old Steward also loved Gondor and if he thought a King would renew her will to fight against Mordor, he might well offer the crown to his favourite Captain in the aftermath of so great a victory. That was,if Thorongil could produce the proofs that he were indeed Isildur's heir. He would move swiftly while he were still Steward,knowing his son had other plans.

As for Denethor, Aragorn was certain that the Ecthelion's heir was doing all in his power to discredit him. As well as Denethor's open attempts to damage his reputation,there had been too many pretty girls in taverns offering themselves to him, and strangers trying to get him to overindulge in drink for such matters to be mere coincidences. If Denethor could not discredit him, what else might he do, slip a knife under his ribs in a dark alley, challenge him to open combat? He doubted the former, though jealousy could drive a man mad, while the latter could lead to war and brother fighting against brother. Such a fatally weakened realm would then fall easily into Sauron's clutches.

Aragorn knew he must leave, but to do so now! He cared about his men and many were good friends. It would hurt Ecthelion so much,maybe damage his already failing health. Would the old man ever understand that Aragorn had acted out of love both for him and for Gondor by leaving?

Then if he left now would he ever return? Denethor would never offer him the crown. Would his son be any different or even his grandson? It would be too late to win Arwen's hand in marriage. How could he ask her to forsake the life of the Elder for a few short years at his side?

Aragorn looked out again. They were about to make land at Dol Amroth. The white sands and the great castle gleamed in the moonlight. This land was so fair!

The moon then vanished behind a cloud plunging everywhere into darkness. Aragorn felt the darkness in his heart was even deeper. Surely this was his grimmest hour.

He placed letters and reports he had written on the table in his cabin, including a note for Ecthelion and his son. Then gathering his belongings together, he prepared to slip away into the night.

B2MeM Challenge Roles and names of Aragorn1- king; Carolling- You could almost say it glowed;Canon couples Earendil/Elwing; Emotions- courage; Facets of Faramir - mentor;Book Titles: Skin and Other Stories
Format: ficlet

Genre: general

Rating: G

Warnings: none

Characters: Aragorn, Faramir

Pairings: Earendil/Elwing

Summary: Aragorn is suspicious of Faramir's loyalty.

These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.

Aragorn was starting to have suspicions about his Steward. He instinctively liked the young man, and had sensed a noble spirit when he had called him forth from the darkness in which the Black Breath had trapped him. Now, though, the King was beginning to wonder if Faramir was not all he seemed to be.

In the days following his coronation, Aragorn had several times observed his Steward making his way towards a disreputable part of the City without his guards in attendance. When he had greeted him, Faramir had flushed and looked uncomfortable, though he denied anything was wrong. As a healer, Aragorn knew that skin told its own story.

The King began to wonder if Faramir regretted handing over power to him. He was, after all, Denethor's son and his family had ruled Gondor for almost a thousand years unchallenged.

One afternoon, after seeing Faramir furtively slip away yet again, Aragorn decided to follow him. He needed to be able to trust his Steward completely if they were to work in harmony together to rebuild Gondor. Most likely his suspicions were completely unjustified, but he needed to know.

Using all his Ranger skills to move stealthily, Aragorn followed Faramir down to the first circle. The war damage was severe here and most of the buildings were in need of repair. Faramir entered a house, which was intact save for the windows.

Aragorn could hear voices inside. At first a murmur and then Faramir's voice, strong and clear.

"I know the times are hard for you children," said Faramir. "But have courage. The King is returned. Moreover, is he not of the line of Eärendil and Elwing? Remember how Eärendil alone was brave enough to summon help from the Valar when Middle-earth faced the greatest hour of need? Elwing despaired and cast herself into the sea, but Lord Ulmo changed her into a great white bird. Now she and her husband sail across the night sky in the Vingilot while the light from the Silmaril on the prow brings hope to Men."

Aragorn felt himself flushing with shame at his unjust suspicions. He inwardly debated what to do next. He felt like slinking away but knew that was the coward's way. He would have courage.

The King knocked on the door. It was answered by a flustered looking young woman, with such rosy cheeks you could almost say they glowed. She obviously did not recognise him. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"I believe Lord Faramir is here," said the King. "May I speak to him?"

"Of course," said the young woman. "We are much indebted to Lord Faramir. He is such a wonderful man and a kindly mentor to the orphans here. He pays for their food and lodging and cheers and inspires the children by telling them stories."

At the mention of his name, Faramir joined the woman in the doorway. He gestured for her to return to the children before speaking to Aragorn. "I promise I am not neglecting my work, sire," he said. "I shall finish the report you asked me to write before the morning."

"Do not fret about the report, Lord Faramir," said Aragorn. "I confess I was curious why you were visiting this part of the City. Now that I know. I would learn how I might best help these children. The Royal Treasury will pay for anything they need."

Faramir beamed. "I will tell Mistress Haleth," he said. "I was just about to bis her and the children farewell."

King and Steward walked back to the Citadel together.

"I apologise for my intrusion, Faramir," said Aragorn. "I should not have followed you."

"I should have told you about the orphans, sire, but I feared you would think me neglectful of my duties as Steward."

"You do not have to tell me how you spend your free time," said Aragorn. "You are a good and conscientious man, Faramir. I would have you tell me if know there is need, though, that I might help."

“I was wondering, sire.” Faramir hesitated.

“Please ask of me what you will,”said Aragorn.

“I was wondering if you would accompany me to visit the orphans ,”said Faramir.

"I will do gladly," said the King.

“The children would be delighted to meet you, my lord,” said Faramir.

As they reached their apartments, King and Steward went their separate ways. Aragorn returned to his chamber with much to think upon. As King, he knew now he must get to know his people and learn their needs. He also needed to get to know his Steward better. The young man remained an enigma as he resisted all Aragorn's attempts to befriend him. Yet Aragorn could sense the young man liked him. Why then was he so uneasy in his King's company?

March 28: Gondor

Title: Defender of the White Tree

Author: Linda Hoyland

Characters/Pairing: Aragorn,OCs

Rating: PG

Warnings: OC death

Book/Source: LOTR book-verse

Disclaimer - These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.

Today's Challenge:

There was no avoiding it; the letter had to be composed...

Who will receive this letter? An uncle? A lover? The High-King? Why is there "no avoiding it"? Circumstances? Or is Mother watching with arms crossed? Will the letter be written in haste? Or will each phrase be meticulously crafted?

Write a story or poem inspired by this line (you do not need to use the exact quote), or create a piece of art that reflects this situation.

There was no avoiding it; the letter had to be composed Aragorn sighed deeply as he picked up the pen. Out of all his duties as King, this was the one of those he liked the least. If a man had given his life for Gondor, though, the very least he could do was write a letter of condolence to their loved ones.

Mercifully in these times of peace it was not something that he had to do very often, but there were still skirmishes with surviving groups of Orcs or rebel groups of Southrons or Easterlings, and fighting led to casualties.

This particular death saddened him especially. Denborn had been one of the Citadel Guards, a likeable young fellow with a wife and small daughter. He recalled one morning seeing the young woman in the Court of the Fountain, clutching her little girl's hand when Denborn had first been given the honour of guarding the White Tree. The child had been puzzled why her daddy could not talk to her while on duty.

The King had been passing and had stopped to explain to the child a little about why the tree was special to all the people of Gondor.

A Citadel Guard's duties were mainly ceremonial, which made matters even worse for the bereaved family. Whoever could have foreseen that a mad man would attack the White Tree with an axe? Denborn had hurled himself in front the tree to protect it and had been brutally cut down before his comrades could overpower the lunatic.

The tree bore only a small cut upon its trunk as result of the attack,but a good man was dead as result.

Aragorn dipped his quill in the ink and began to write; praising Denborn's courage and devotion to duty. The words sounded hollow and patronising to him, even as he penned them. He remembered so clearly the little girl asking him if the tree was more important to her father than she was. He had assured her it was not. Now the child was bereft of her father on account of that tree! She was too young to understand that this tree represented the very soul of Númenor, the spirit that Sauron could not destroy; sprung from the fruit that Isildur had almost given his life for. Denborn's name would be added to a list of great heroes who had fought to preserve the Tree and all it stood for over the ages.

Aragorn picked up the letter. He had met these people. He felt like a coward sending a letter of condolence instead of facing them.

He would visit the family and as well as delivering the letter. he would assure them that they would be provided for. If they were angry then would listen to them, and if they wept, he would weep with them, genuine tears for the loss of a precious life.

In defending the White Tree, Denborn had given his life for Gondor and her King.

B2MeM Challenge: Wisdom.
"And this the Valar did, desiring to amend the errors of old, especially that they had attempted to guard and seclude the Eldar by their own might and glory fully revealed; whereas now their emissaries were forbidden to reveal themselves in forms of majesty, or to seek to rule the wills of Men and Elves by open display of power, but coming in shapes weak and humble were bidden to advise and persuade Men and Elves to good, and to seek to unite in love and understanding all those whom Sauron, should he come again, would endeavour to dominate and corrupt."
Format: ficlet
Genre: friendship
Rating: PG
Warnings: mention of rape and murder
Characters: Aragorn, Faramir
Pairings: Aragorn/Arwen
Summary: Aragorn and Faramir discuss justice and mercy.
Disclaimer: The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate. No profit has been, nor will be made from this story.

“You look thoughtful, mellon nîn,” said Aragorn. Together with his Steward, he returning to his apartments for the noonday meal after a morning spent judging and sentencing prisoners. Faramir had been invited to dine with the King and Queen as Éowyn was in Ithilien with the children.

“I was thinking that had my father judged those miscreants, they would be all facing the gallows rather than just one,” Faramir replied.

“They were very different cases,” Aragorn said thoughtfully. “The first, I had no hesitation in condemning that tailor to death.”

“Neither would I,” said Faramir. “A man who violates a woman then kills her to silence her is lower than any wild beast.”

“That was my view too,” said Aragorn. “And a wild beast can neither be tamed nor trusted, so he had to die. The other prisoners, though, I felt deserved a second chance.”

“A drunken brawl can too easily lead to tragedy,” said Faramir. “That is one reason why I am careful not to partake of too much wine.”

“It is not in your nature to be violent,” said Aragorn. “You become sentimental after too much wine, unlike the mason I sentenced today. I am certain he did not mean to kill, though. It seemed sheer misfortune that the man he punched fell on his own sword when he landed and died as result.”

“Which is why I sentenced him to exile in the North,” Aragorn replied. “I doubt he will overindulge in drink again. In the North, he can build a new life far away from the family and friends of the man he killed.”

“As do I,” said Aragorn. “I have ordered that a part of the mason’s wages must go to support the victim’s family.

“A wise decision,” said Faramir. “So too was your treatment of the deserter.”

“The young fool!” Aragorn exclaimed. “Had he but asked, his captain would most likely have granted him leave to visit his newborn son. I pity the young man, but even more so the wife whom he has caused so much heartache. Then what must his comrades feel? They need to be able to trust one another on the battlefield completely.”

“Your punishment was just,” said Faramir. “Hard labour helping to refurbish the barracks and dismissal from the army. He should count himself fortunate. My father would have had him flogged, then hung. Those were different times, though.”

“I was fortunate to have a very wise teacher,” said Aragorn. “One of Gandalf’s favourite sayings was “Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement.”

“Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them?” Faramir added. “He often said that to me too.”

“Daily I try to live by it,” said Aragorn. “The Valar sent him to teach men to unite against Sauron in love and understanding.”

“Even Saruman fell away from wisdom and he was one of the Istari like Gandalf,” said Aragorn.

“We are late for the noonday meal,” said Aragorn. “We must hurry. Arwen will be wondering where we are.”

Title: Wondrous Fair
Author Name: Linda Hoyland
Prompt: In many parts of the world, autumn brings with it some of the most beautiful scenery of the year, yet that beauty is also touched with sorrow. Write or create art about something that is both beautiful and tragic.
Summary: Faramir realises that he loves Éowyn
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Beta: (optional)
Author's Notes: Double drabble
Disclaimer: The characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate. No profit has been, nor will be made from this story.

She is wondrous fair, surpassing any maiden I have ere beheld. Her hair is like spun gold, her eyes shimmer like twin stars and she moves with lithe grace.

Éowyn! She stirs my heart strangely. I know not why this this should be. Maybe it is because our future is so uncertain. Her beauty is like a flame illuminating the darkness that threatens us all. Maybe her sorrow draws me to her, as I sense something within her that mirrors my own heaviness of heart. We were both wounded, both saved from death by the same hand, and we both mourn.

I know too another sorrow burdens her heart. She loves the Lord Aragorn who loves her not. A tragedy indeed that a maid should offer her love to one who cannot accept it. I would count myself the most fortunate of men should she turn her affections towards me.

I would comfort her. What joy it would be to see her smile and hear the sound of her laughter.
Éowyn! I was first drawn to ease your sorrow, but now I know that I love you. My heart is now in your keeping. I would make you my wife!

“Very well, ion nîn.” Aragorn smiled indulgently and settled himself comfortably on the couch. “What would you like the story to be about?”

And what would you like, Farawyn?” Aragorn turned to where his small daughter was preoccupied in playing with her dolls.

“That would be boring,” said Eldarion. “Girls are weak and don’t do anything brave!”

“What about Aunt Éowyn?” asked Aragorn. “She fought in the great battle of Pelennor Fields and slew the Witch King whom no man could slay!”

“She was the only lady to do anything like that, and in any case, Master Merry helped her. Girls usually just sit at home and do dull things while men go off and do great deeds. Naneth did not ride off to war like Aunt Éowyn, neither did all the other ladies.”

“And that was one of the hardest things I ever did, ion nîn. Watching your ada go out on his most perilous adventure yet,” said Arwen who had appeared in the doorway. Aragorn beckoned her to come and sit beside him. Farawyn immediately clambered up on her lap.

“Maybe, I had the easier part of it, vanimelda,” said Aragorn, tenderly kissing her cheek. “I know only I could not have triumphed in battle without your loving support and knowing that you were waiting for me.”

Eldarion looked far from convinced. “Men do all the exciting and dangerous things, though,” he said.

Aragorn and Arwen exchanged a look then Aragorn said, “Women do the bravest thing of all when they bring children into the world. That takes great strength. A mother endures as great pain, even more than any hero wounded upon the battlefield.”

“And after the pain comes the most exciting adventure, that of meeting your child,” said Arwen, gazing fondly at her offspring.

“Women are just as brave as men, but in different ways,” Aragorn said gravely. Your Naneth is one of the bravest heroes I know. When you are older, you will understand. Strength is more than wielding a sword and winning battles. You were brave and when you didn’t cry when you hurt your finger yesterday and strong when you didn’t grumble when Farawyn wanted to play with your toys.”

“Dolly is brave,” said Farawyn, wriggling on her mother’s lap. “She never cries!”

“So she is,” said Arwen, laughing. “And you will be strong too when you grow up.”

“So I did, and you shall have one. Once upon a time, there lived a young man who was brought up amongst the Elves. One day he was walking in the woods and he was singing…”

“It does indeed,” Aragorn gave Arwen a knowing smile. “Very happily indeed.”

Long had I desired to look upon the likenesses of my forefathers. I had travelled far, yet this was the first time I had beheld the Argonath. The great statues surpassed my expectations, a great monument to great men.

Now the time approaches for me to follow in their footsteps. Could I achieve what they did in defeating the enemy and making the kingdom secure? Am I worthy to occupy the thrones that they did.

Something stirs in my heart as I behold the carven features. I am their heir. Should I triumph, I will wear the crown with honour.

Fragments from Middle-earth by Linda Hoyland