~For Love~

~Herein lie the thoughts of Denethor, Steward of Gondor in the days after the death of his wife and Lady, Finduilas of Dol Amroth~

She is gone. I cannot remember a time without her that I was not the happiest man in Gondor, though I might not have shown it much. She knew. She knew I loved her dearly. She knew that I would have a hard time of it without her. Yet, she somehow found peace in the thought that I would somehow become stronger through this trial. I cannot now see the logic in that. I miss her so terribly it hurts. Some nights I lay awake long after my attendants have left and think only of her, remembering all that we used to do together. It doesn’t help to think of her, it only increases the pain of her passing. I cannot now imagine life to be happy again, unless I can see my happiness fulfilled through the success of my eldest. He shall have everything I have ever hoped for; prosperity, riches, might, and a long life full of joy. He shall be the next Steward of Gondor, and he shall be a great one.

I cannot speak thus of my younger son. In fact it pains me to speak much of him at all. And that not for the simple fact that he is not the kind of son I had wished for, but also for the reason that he reminds me so much of her. He looks like her. For the longest time I could not look at him, nor speak to him, for fear the pain would return in a rush. He has her spirit, her love of learning and of the sea, but he also possesses all of her weaknesses. She had few weaknesses, I will admit to no more, but they were not so prominent in her as they are in her son. She was persuadable, and quiet, not much for speaking her mind, unless it was asked for, and not much for giving orders to be followed, except amongst her handmaidens. Those are not such bad qualities in her, but not for a future soldier.

This night I lay awake, hearing her voice in my mind, as she spoke to me many times when we were alone, uninhibited by the demands and proprieties of the court; times she told me how much she loved me, and when she would sing to me, songs of her homeland, songs of the sea she loved. I know she grew to love me after we were married, but in her heart she truly belonged to those lands, and her family, not to me. Not to this city. Not to this land.

Perhaps that is why I grieve so much at her passing, because I knew she never truly belonged to me, yet I desired to keep her. It is strange how one’s heart will toy with them. I cannot let mine do so any longer, or I shall fall to pieces. I shall be, as she said, a great ruler. I will not let this time get out of my hands. For her sake, I shall do all in my power to make Minas Tirith great.

~The End~