From the uplands of Morthond, the great Blackroot Vale, tall Duinhir with his sons, Duilin and Derufin, and five hundred bowmen. 

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Return of the King, “Minas Tirith” 

 

Duinhir, Lord of Morthond Vale, was going to have supper with the Steward of Gondor that evening.  The invitation had surprised him. 

There will be no need to make a conversation, the letter read, which further intrigued him, and relieved him.  For he was not up to exchanging pleasantries or participating in any discourse.  To be honest, he was even tired of people expressing their sympathy to him or praising his sons’ valour. 

He had a hard time at the banquet celebrating the crowning of the King two evenings before.  The King and the Steward had been very kind to him, a mere lord of a small fief, but he felt out of place amidst the merriment. 

He did not wish to meet or converse with anyone, but he regarded the Steward as his lord, even after the King returned; it would not do to refuse the invitation.  And in a way he was relieved, for dining alone in his empty town house was a daunting prospect.  He only hoped that the Steward did not invite too many people. 

A servant brought him to the dining chamber at the Steward’s residence.  The Steward was already there, but Duinhir might have come too early; nobody else had arrived. 

The Steward rose to welcome him and Duinhir bowed.  Then the Steward gave a sign to the servant to start serving the meal. 

“It is only the two of us, Lord Duinhir,” he said, perceiving Duinhir’s surprise.  “There is no need for pleasantries or any conversation, unless you wish it.” 

Faramir, the second son of the late Steward Denethor, was now the Steward of Gondor following Denethor’s death, and after the King Elessar declared it.  Duinhir had known Faramir for many years; the sons of Denethor grew up as the sons of Gondor.  When Faramir was about eighteen or nineteen, he had spent a few months at Morthond Vale as part of the Steward’s son education.  Duinhir did not recall much about Faramir from that time, other than him being quiet, polite, and an eager, fast learner.  

Afterwards, as Duinhir came to Minas Tirith every year for the council, he saw Faramir grow into an able Captain and a fine young man, wise beyond his years.  And last year, when Denethor sent his sons to the fiefs to rally them for the impending assault at Minas Tirith, it was Faramir who came to Morthond Vale.   

Despite having known Faramir for many years, Duinhir had not been close to him.  Of the two sons of the late Steward Denethor, both noble and valiant, Duinhir had found the straightforward Boromir easier to talk with. 

Sitting at the dining table with Faramir, at first Duinhir felt awkward and very much conscious of himself, but after a while he relaxed.  For whatever reason, Faramir wished to dine with him, and he could manage that.  Although a little awkward, this was better than being alone in his house. 

True to his word, Faramir did not attempt to make him talk throughout the meal.   

As they finished their meal, Duinhir could not help but ask, “May I know the reason for you inviting me, my lord?  What is your command?” 

Faramir looked at him, and said gently, “To a mourning heart, an empty house can seem more terrible than the creatures of Mordor, Lord Duinhir.  I am not yet used to being alone in mine.  I imagined perhaps you too had the same difficulties, and we might keep each other company.” 

Duinhir was taken aback.  He was no fool.  It was for Duinhir’s sake that the Steward had invited him.  For though it may be true that Faramir felt lonely in his house, Duinhir knew there were many who could provide more welcome company than he.  Prince Imrahil and his family, the King and the Lady of Rohan, and even the King Elessar, to name a few. 

Duinhir felt grateful, and he felt a prick of shame and hope.  Duinhir lost both his sons, and nobody could blame him for wishing to die.  The young man in front of him lost all his family and his ruling power, and yet he defiantly marched on living.  Was it the resilience of youth? Or the grace of his high Númenorean blood? And if he could do it, could not Duinhir continue living, too? 

He was not sure what to say.  Faramir gave a slight smile and poured more wine to Duinhir’s cup. 

As Duinhir made to leave that evening, he said earnestly, “I thank you for your kindness, Lord Steward.” 

“I am glad you came, Lord Duinhir.  Could we have supper together again in a few days’ time?” 

“It would be my pleasure,”  Duinhir said, and he realized he meant it. 

They had supper together two more times in the nine days that Duinhir stayed in Minas Tirith after the crowning of the King.  Their suppers were mostly in amiable silence, but every now and then Duinhir found himself talking and not finding it too burdensome.  Faramir told him briefly about the meeting with Aragorn and about the council in which Duinhir had been absent. 

In the last few days of his stay, Duinhir even found himself agreeing to attend a gathering at the guest house where the King’s Companions stayed.  It was a pleasant gathering and he did not feel so out of place anymore.  Duinhir observed that the King Elessar, too, was a wise and kind lord.  With the King and the Steward, Gondor was in safe hands. 

On the morning that he and his men were going to start their return journey to Morthond Vale, Duinhir sought out the Steward in his study at the White Tower.  He had earlier met the King and asked his permission to depart. 

Duinhir bowed and thanked Faramir again for reaching out to him.  They did not become close friends—Duinhir was old enough to be Faramir’s father, and Faramir was too learned for his liking—but he has come to enjoy the young man’s quiet company and would remain forever grateful to him. 

As Duinhir was going to leave the Steward’s study, Faramir said cautiously, “You are much older and have acquired more wisdom than I, Lord Duinhir; I will not presume to give you advice.  But allow me to say this: despair is a mighty foe, do fight it.” 

As Duinhir looked at Faramir’s grave face, he understood what Faramir left unsaid.  For beyond the wise and kind Steward he had come to respect and admire, he saw a son grieving for his departed father. 

Duinhir nodded.  “Your wish is my command, my lord.  I give you my words, I will give my all to fight the despair.” 

He added, “When you come to Morthond Vale, Lord Faramir, please stay at my house.  You can use my son’s chamber.” 

Faramir was visibly touched.  “That is very kind of you.  I will be honoured, Lord Duinhir.” 

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