Stone-verse: Trees and Kings.




After http://www.twitlonger.com/show/n_1sl8c1e

Elennárë talks to the White Tree, and to Faramir.

@SilmarilNaro @FaramirRanger
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Elennárë stood near the central roundel the Citadel courtyard, before the flat top of the stone prow, absently looking up at the branches of the White Tree. It was an old tree, but given it's Valinorian ancestry, it should by rights be able to live for as long as the World. Now however, as she looked at it, she was starting to understand why it was so worn. The first White Tree, Galathilion, had been one of the greatest of the Huirorns, a son of Telperion, who in some lines of thinking was Huirorn as well, one of great power, only equaled by Laurelin.

Galathilion had grown in the courtyard of the Tower of Ingwë, the oldest section of the royal palace in Tirion, built before the Vanyar had moved further inland. He had held a strong friendship with Finwë throughout all the time Elennárë remembered, and was quite welcoming of any of the Ñoldor king's kindred, truly staying neutral in the matters of the family arguments. Elennárë remembered him being very kind and friendly to her and her sisters, even a couple of times calling them sisters, recognising them as children of the Two Trees.

His seedling, Celeborn, she had met once when her Atar had taken the three of them on a visit to Tol Eressëa, but she only knew of Nimloth from the histories that told of Númenor, and the White Trees of Minas Ithil and the previous trees of Minas Tirith from the accounts of the early years of Gondor and the war against Mordor.

As her fingers absently trailed over worn bark and she caught a slight twitch in one of the guardsmen standing nearby. They had been assured however, by Boromir, that she had some experience in her youth with tending trees and had a great wish to see the living symbol of their nation.

"Lossornë..." She whispered to it, feeling the sleeping spirit within. A spirit that was more tired than winter would have any tree, even a tree of more mortal descent. She leaned against the trunk of the tree, resting an ear against the bark, though she knew that it was not with her ears, it made a kind of sense to do so, as she listened to the Tree's sleepy murmurs.

She could feel it stirring in response to her presence, a sensing of her warmth, a recognition of her being related, if not familiar. "Do not strain yourself to wake..." She murmured in Quenya, trying to sooth it - him, encourage him not to wake too early.

"...Warm..." She heard in reply, spoken softly, almost longing. "...Please? Warm...?" Sleepy though he was, she could feel Lossornë reaching for her.

"Whatever you wish, my kindred." She responded, gently letting him draw on her, though careful not to let her fire too close to the surface that he would be burnt.

Not breaking the link, she leaned back, looking at the ground around, trying to decide if she could sit. The stone benches she deemed too far, so she stepped around, not letting her hand leave the bark, to find a crook between a couple of roots. Settling there she found herself looking closely at how the pavers of the roundel hugged the roots so closely, frowning at them as if they had done some great wrong. In a way they had, and she felt she could yell at whichever fool thought paving so closely was anything but bad for a tree, even one as resilient as this.

Still, she thought, looking at where the roots trailed to the inner and outer edges of the roundel, there was space where someone with mind to actually give the poor Tree a good feed might be able to dig in fertilizer where it would not be so close as to burn the plant. If her senses were right, that whole central depression, though now gravel, still had soil beneath it and could be dug over and laid with more grass, or better yet some flowers, and also allow Lossornë to reach into it to feed his body properly.

"...I could... I also have a sprout..."

"A sprout!" Elennárë sat up in surprise upon hearing that. The guardsman nearby turned to look her way and she gave him a shrug, glad she had made her exclamation in Quenya, therefore not understandable to most average Gondorian folk. Even so, as she leaned back, she kept her words in her mind instead. "You have a sprout somewhere? Where would it be?"

"...On the mountain... under guardian trees that protect... from the snow..."

"On Mindolluin?" She asked, to confirm that was the mountain Lossornë meant.

"Yes... have survived the loss... of my previous trees... through my saplings...I had hoped...a king would come...so my last could bloom."

"You need a king to grow properly...?" She had to wonder at that. She knew the White Tree was considered a symbol of the line of kings, but despite the strong relationship she had been thinking Galathilion had with her grandfather, there had not been a direct indication of such. She certainly hoped Galathilion had survived after Finwë's death. She knew for sure that legend was true in that Arafinwë held the throne in Tirion from Lossanárë, though Elennárë had not thought to ask her sister how their Tree-Brother was.

"...Bonds with the kings... helped me stay... I wish..."

"You wish what...?" She asked, feeling he was leading somewhere.

"...Meneldil's line still serve... but they know not that they are his."

That made Elennárë blink, forcing herself not to yelp again. "Descendants of Meneldil still live? A true line that could break the deadlock of lords, or was their line passing through daughters?" She understood the situation with the lords of Gondor from her years of silent observation. So many of the lords who held titles could easily claim to have royal blood - even the line of Húrin could claim that through Ailinel, daughter of King Eldacar the twenty-first King of Gondor.

"No daughters..." Lossornë stated, sounding a bit stronger for drawing on her power. "Their names were removed, a king who distrusted them... but I know they are still here. Meneldil's youngest they came from... though daughters of the kings married into their line."

"Well..." Elennárë said aloud, still a bit surprised by what Lossornë had let her know. Reverting back to mind-speak, she continued, "I will go and see if I may find your sapling, and maybe see if some writings survive that can tell what became of the line of Meneldil's youngest. You do not know which family it is?"

"They... are always in the city. It has helped me hold onto this wood that they were near... but I have been so tired for so long, I could not walk beyond my body to truly look upon them." Lossornë explained.

"Ahh well, I suppose then if we can find which family it is, we will find them through documents, if at all." A pity, really, Elennárë thought to herself, but of Lossornë needed a king supporting his spirit, then to survive for so long since Eärnur died - over nine hundred years - with only distant touches to the lost line... But another thing came to mind that made her worry. It might be all very well that an unbroken line descended from Meneldil was still alive, but what if it was a family that would be bad for Gondor?

"If you can come to me... I can hold on." Lossornë interrupted her worry. "Your light gives me strength. If you can feed my tree, I can hold on longer... until you find a king, and can bring my sprout from the mountain."

"I am going to be away for some months." Elennárë told him, a little apologetically. "My Dwarven friends seek to contact family up there and invite them to come here... and I believe some of my Elven family are alive and living there. I will likely be gone all through spring and well into summer."

"...I can sleep, as I have for so long since I felt too tired to put out leaves." Lossornë answered. "Come see me again before you leave? If I can draw on your warmth some more, I will be stronger."

"I will then. I want to dig up some of the grass and leave you some food anyway and that will take me a good few days, even if I get helpers." Elennárë smiled softly. "I will be able to share my warmth with you while I work on it."

"For that I will be glad." Lossornë agreed.

Elennárë Let herself settle back, simply sharing her power with the White Tree, idly going over what would be best to use to feed his roots. She would have to speak with Denethor, as he was the one with final authority to allow people to tend the Tree. She only hoped she would have word sufficient to convince him that the Tree needed tending enough to dig out the areas around it's roots so fertilizer could be properly laid.


Faramir

Faramir walked into the courtyard after one particularly confusing discussion with his father- sometimes he'd swear Denethor enjoyed being confusing. Why in the world his father seemed to *like* the thought of sending Boromir north, in search of... what exactly? There had been a vague mention of politics, that Faramir could not decipher. Did his father hope to recruit additional fighters among the Northern Dúnedain?

It was possible, even as he thought little of their leader, rumour had it, he had several good contacts north, which was how he knew so much about a certain problem. If so, he had played his game of King's chess well so far. Faramir could sense that there was something deeper - something he did not know about, and it made him restless.

Certainly there was something up with the dwarves as well. Denethor had spend days in the Hidden Repository of Knowledge that only the Stewards had unlimited access to, and that could be accessed by the Noble Council by request. And he had already told Faramir that he would have to assist him, to dig through the even older parts of the Secret Repository of Knowledge to find several documents pertaining to the early years of the Third Age and to dwarves. Faramir was intrigued by that, though he wondered what in the world had his father look at such matters.

When he came into the courtyard, he was surprised to see Elennárë sitting under the White Tree, a few snowflakes dancing around her. The Citadel had taken well to Baranor's daughter and even better to all the opportunities to gossip, Faramir thought wryly. Walking over to her, he recalled their last conversation - one pertaining his brother and a certain dwarf who thankfully had returned to the Undercity for now - with two of his kind in tow no less. A few more blacksmiths would be good to have, though.

Seeing Elennárë sitting under that tree felt strangely right - and sad at the same moment. Maybe because the tree symbolized to Faramir, the legacy his people were defending. Long dead memory of a world gone by, that they still tried to guard. And yet... if they gave up on that memory, what would be left of them? "Seeing you sit here, reminds me of the legend of Valirion who sat for twenty years in the shadow of Nimloth to find wisdom..."


Elennárë

Elennárë looked up at Faramir's words and gave him a wry smile. "Maybe she was telling him secrets given to her by Celeborn and Galathilion." She said, sitting up and absently pulling the thick warg-skin and rabbit fur cloak Anvari had insisted she keep a bit closer. "Some trees certainly have more secrets to tell than others, they only need someone who can hear them right."


Faramir

Faramir was surprised that she referred to Nimloth as she - like a person. Inside his mind Faramir might always have called the tree inside the courtyard a "he" but that was his own fancy mind. "If she did so, it send him on a journey from which he never returned. Though his brother's line was said to hold letters upon letters from him, detailing an incredible journey..." He smiled relaxedly, he loved such stories, the idea of such secrets, hidden somewhere in an ancient archive. Though he knew how often one was more likely to find darker things inside ancient shelves.

"Given her's and his'" his gaze indicated the tree inside the courtyard, "elven ancestry, I often wondered if one would need to sing to them."


Elennárë

Elennárë tilted her head in thought. "Maybe, though simply having arcane talent and some affinity for trees is enough." She looked at the stubs of the Tree's lost trunks. "Lossornë is still in there, he is holding on, but he has been very tired and not able to put out new leaves. He needs support to continue on, and I promised that before I head north I would do what I can to give him strength."


Faramir

Surprised Faramir looked at her, maybe he had gotten too well used to the presence of the quiet Lady, and not thought of her true ancestry enough. "You can speak to him?" he asked, squatting down, to be on eye level with her, sitting under the tree. "c... what kind of help does he need?" Faramir's asked, wondering what could be done to strengthen the failing tree. It had been dying for a thousand years, ever since the last king of Gondor had ridden to challenge the Witch King in his lair of Minas Morgul.


Elennárë

"For the moment I can give him some strength through sharing my own power." Elennárë glanced at the guards and lowered her voice a bit. "We share an ancestry, with Galathilion being a son of Telperion, and if I can get permission to dig up some of the grass near his roots, some fertilizer would also help Lossornë keep this body going for a while longer, but..." She took a breath, formulating words in her mind.

"He can move from one tree to another, as long as it is his own seed. Lossornë is the same Huirorn who lived in the tree of Minas Ithil, and the previous trees here in Minas Tirith, as they were all from the seed of his own tree. He told me he has a surviving sprout, somewhere up on the slopes of Mount Mindolluin, but even with that, he needs a king to return to the throne, as he shares a bond with the line of kings."


Faramir

Faramir listened intently to her explanations, taking in the lore she shared. He would have to look up a few concepts later on, but he got the general idea of it. "The line of kings..." he titled his head to look around, making sure all guards were well out of earshot. "... therein would lie the problem. As far as rumour goes, there is an heir, up North in Eriador. He is rumoured to have once visited Gondor, though it was complicated and ultimately he returned to the North." Faramir was not as averse as the rest of his house towards a returning King, though he knew any return would meet with problems.


Elennárë

"So I am aware. Kíli was here at the time he came and I have heard a bit about it recently." Elennárë agreed. "Even he would face Pelendur's Precedent, and I know Boromir believes very strongly in the core of that. But..." She bit her lip for a second before going on. "There is a family line somewhere in Gondor who might have a claim strong enough to break the deadlock amongst the nobility... Lossornë told me Meneldil's third son has an unbroken line of sons that still lives to this day. Some time in the past one of the kings tried to erase all records of them, but they are still here. Lossornë cannot say who they are though, because he has been too tired to tell for sure."


Faramir

Even with the serious topic Faramir could not help but enjoy the way she laid out information for him to digest. He agreed with her on Boromir - his brother had a harsh opinion of the Northern Line of Kings, and Pelendur's Precedent certainly created a problem in that by itself.

What Elennárë revealed though was most stunning. "A line that exists to this day?" Faramir frowned. "Outside of Cemendur, who succeeded him, the others children - three if I recall that right - are hardly mentioned in any chronicle, except for the daughter, who married quite unhappily as I recall." Faramir was well read in the history of the land, but digging into the distant past would mean hours inside the library - but he'd probably be there anyway.

"Even if a King later tried to remove the line from the chronicles - and I dare say it might not have been through malicious intent alone, foresight might have played a role there as well - there will be traces that are hard to erase. Not just because there are so many references to think of, but because the archives of the crown are not the only ones in this city..." He took a deep breath. "Tracking down the name, birth name and probably a name he chose to live under, a title maybe as well, will be the start, if we want to identify his lineage." he said. He could see the potential there, for good and ill both. Depending on where that search lead.

"Outside of that - I shall talk to my father about taking better care of Lossornë. No matter what any single man might think on the line of Kings, Lossornë. was entrusted to our care, and we shall not shirk our duty to him." It was an argument that he knew he could win, if he presented the right angle to his father.


Elennárë

"I did consider that Meneldil's line might not be someone who could be trusted, even though they may be Gondorian, so at best, we can see who they might be and then decide if they would be better on the throne than the heir of Isildur." Elennárë gave a slight shrug. "I know Lord Denethor does not trust him, but if Thorongil is the better, best know so we could work out for him to have the chance to prove his worth to the people."

She ran a hand over the White Tree. "I know some about tending trees... Ammë kept a garden and I understand the principals. I have been contemplating bringing up some fertilizer and digging up some of the ground around his roots," she nodded to the two extremes where the roots dug into gravel and grass, "so he has something to sustain this tree until his sprout is found."


Faramir

"Proving his worth..." Faramir's eyes held a strange expression, a great sadness that he could not hide. "long ago... so long that it feels like it was in another lifetime, Boromir and I would dream of going North to find the uncrowned King." He said softly. "We would find him and convince him to return to Gondor and lead the war against the Shadow. We were young then and it was before..." Before Boromir had seriously been sent to war at a young age, before he had seen comrades fall, before he had held a dying friend for his last agonizing moments, before he had been taken to Minas Morgul, returning changed in body and soul... before Baranor had declared that he was too set in his ways to any longer be effective against the new Easterling strategies, suggesting Boromir for the man to replace him as a Captain of Gondor... before so many things. Faramir did not know when the dream had died, maybe there had not been a specific moment when it had died, maybe it had just bled out, like their troops did down by that river.

He forced himself to push that away, they had their tasks, their duties and no wailing about lost dreams would help them to live up to the task that had been handed to them. "I shall speak to my father about digging up the grounds, and assigning some helpers to you, to assist in that task." He would try to convince his father to be at least seen at the works now and then - it would be good for the ruling Steward to be seen at this.


Elennárë

Elennárë could see something in those words Faramir had echoed back had touched something that pained him. She knew the dreams he referred to, they had come up a few times in the first few years after she had found Boromir, but those she had seen in the nightly meanderings of his sleeping mind had a darker edge to them, often with Gondor awash with blood and fire he had not been there to stop. She had done what she could to turn those dreams, but even now they still occasionally appeared when he was stressed.

"Helpers will be a good thing, I would be able to get things done far faster with them." She nodded, taking a moment to check how Lossornë was. The Tree was asleep again and seemed to be doing well. She could leave him and start looking into what she would need - she likely could seek out possible fertilizer in the stables.


Faramir

Faramir got back to his feet. "I shall speak with my father at once," he decided. "and while I will be officially looking for other things I will begin to search for what you spoke of." He would have to keep it quiet, but luckily his father had already assigned him one thankless task in the old archives. He looked at her, considering for a moment. "You might want to bring your father in on this. When it comes to procuring helpful stable hands to move fertilizer or other things in this city, no one is quite as proficient."


Elennárë

Elennárë smiled as she rose to her feet and absently gave her cloak a shake. "That he does, after seeing the way he can get things done in Osgiliath, and still have time to help me with my sword lessons..." She nodded with a quirk of her lips. "I will go and ask him to help organise things."


Faramir

Faramir slightly inclined his head, then headed back to the citadel. While he still wondered about some things, much of his worries about his father's strange behaviour had vanished into the back of his mind.


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