The Prophecy Of Gondor by gamil-zirak

Of The Prophecy Of Gondor

Read Of The Prophecy Of Gondor

Of The Prophecy Of Gondor And The Fate Of Smeagol.

Findegil, King's writer.

Here follows an account that speaks of the Prophecy of Gondor and the Fate of the hobbit Smeagol as it appears in the Red Book Of Westmarch. It was written by Frodo of the Nine Fingers when he dwelt in Minas Tirith in the days after the fall of Sauron.

I have made it my duty to record the words spoken to us this day by Mithrandir that deeply moved me with great fascination, and yet with deep sorrow and grief.
The day began with the contentment that encompasses these newborn days of peace. All the city was jovial and lively as usual...well, maybe not all the city. Of all the tasks of restoration that the people of Minas Tirith now labour to complete, there is one most grievous to them. I speak of the destruction of the House of the Stewards that collapsed in fire during the Great Siege. It is in that ruin that the sorrow from which Middle-earth was delivered still lingers.

There are no smiling faces, no hearty laughter or hopeful banter amid the sounds of working tools. There the great men of Minas Tirith weep inconsolably as they labour to repair the damage. The House of the Stewards was the first place where the labour of restoration was begun, and it is of such great importance that King Elessar himself oversees it daily, along with Steward Faramir.
We, (and by that I mean myself, Samwise, Peregrin and Meriadoc), have gone at times to the Rath Dinen to give what little aid we can. Yet it is not a task we look forward to because of the pall of grief that hangs over the place. However Peregrin has gone daily, as he says it is his heartfelt duty to honour his fallen lord Denethor whom he served for a little while, before the darkness.

And so we come to today. We hobbits were all busy at work when after a time Mithrandir appeared and called for us to follow him. By us I mean we hobbits, Legolas son of Thranduil, Gimli son of Gloin, Steward Faramir, Imrahil the Prince of Dol Amroth and King Elessar. We all followed the wizard to the Court of the Fountain where the newly found White Tree sapling now grows. Here Mithrandir bid us sit and rest awhile as he wanted to speak to us. He, along with the King, Steward Faramir and Prince Imrahil sat upon the edge of the pool's basin, while the rest of us sat upon the soft grass of the surrounding greensward.
What Mithrandir proceeded to tell us so moved me, that I felt I should record his words so that others may discern the histories of the far past, and somewhat understand the power of Fate's purpose in all things, as told by one of great wisdom.

                                                                              ~oOo~

Here then is the account of Mithrandir concerning the Prophecy of Gondor and the Fate of Smeagol in the tale of the Third Age of Middle-earth.

We all sat down and basked in the warm rays of the midday sun. The White Tower rose before us, tall and shapely, at the pinnacle of which floated the banner of the king: the white tree with seven stars about it and a crown above it. Behind the Tower rose the vast snowy shoulders of Mt Mindolluin, glistening above the yawning shadows of noon. The waters of the fountain gave forth a soft spray that watered the sapling of the White Tree, whose slender yet strong green stem nodded gently in the crisp mountain breeze.

We sat in silence for awhile, enjoying the peaceful moment, but soon Mithrandir let out a long sigh that had us all turn to him. He sat with his hands upon his knees, robed in white over which flowed his mantle of grey, the only reminder of his former life. His face was less care-worn as the many lines and creases upon his face were of joy and laughter rather than of age and concerns. But now he was sombre of mood as he lowered his eyes and seemed to nod to himself.

"What could possibly be wrong Gandalf?" asked Peregrin. "You look as if you have something bad to tell us."

Gandalf turned his deep eyes to him. "Bad you say?" he replied. He paused for a moment, as if considering Peregrin's question. "Perhaps they will sound bad to some, but I personally hope my words shall be more of interest to you all." We all looked at each other in wonder and then back to him expectantly.

Gandalf turned to Aragorn. "My Lord, permit me now to speak of the Stewards of Gondor and a part of the history of the beginnings of their rule."

Aragorn looked at Gandalf and smiled. "You know very well that you do not need my permission to speak of things that are on your mind, my friend. For only a fool would refuse to hearken to your wisdom, should you choose to give it. Yet I greatly wonder as to why you are now moved to speak of the Stewards to us."

"I have seen the grief of your people as they labour to repair the House of the Stewards," Gandalf replied. "And I have noted your sorrow and Faramir's too, for your hearts are greatly troubled as to why such ruin should have occured within the city to disturb the bones of the high lords of Gondor."

"But it were the madness of Denethor," said Imrahil. "And that was precipitated by the lies of Sauron that were shown to him through the Palantir. What power in all the world would suffice to desecrate the hallowed resting places of the noble lords of Gondor, than that of Mordor."

"What power indeed lord Imrahil," said Gandalf. "And so I thought too at first. The evil malice of Sauron brought about the madness of Denethor that ended in his ruin and that of the burial house of his fathers. Yet in hearkening back I have come to realise that more can be said about this grave matter than was to be thought."

"And what more could be said about these grievous events Mithrandir?" asked Imrahil.

"A great deal," Gandalf replied. "To understand matters better, one must hearken back to the last days of the kings of Arnor and Gondor. Those were grim times for the heirs of Elendil, for the enemy had whittled down their realms and peoples through countless years of war. The Dunedain to the north lived under the constant threat of Angmar, where dwelt the Witch King who was the lord of the Nazgul. The Dunedain to the south were constantly harassed by the war-like tribes of the east who were allies of Sauron and committed to his will.

At that time, Araphant, son of Araval ruled the north kingdom while Ondoher, son of Calimehtar ruled in the south. Both were wise and wary kings, and in taking thought of their situation they sought to amend the long silence and estrangement that stood between the two realms. For at last they perceived that some single power and will was directing the assault against them from many quarters, seeking to destroy the survivors of Numenor. Therefore Araphant sent an embassy to Gondor where councils were held of friendship and goodwill between the two peoples. Oaths also were taken that promised aid to either kingdom, should it be in peril and if help could be afforded.

Now it must be known that the leader of the embassy sent by Araphant was his son and heir, who was named Arvedui. This name was not given to him by his father, but by Malbeth the Seer who named him at birth, saying to the king:
"Arvedui you shall call him, for he will be the last in Arthedain. Though a choice will come to the Dunedain, and if they take the one that seems less hopeful, then your son will change his name and become king of a great realm. If not, then much sorrow and many lives of men shall pass, until the Dunedain arise and are united again."
TAKEN FROM THE RETURN OF THE KING; APPENDIX A "GONDOR AND THE HEIRS OF ANARION"

 

Now the wise of Arthedain did not forget these words, and neither did Araphant. And in thinking of what was foretold, he sent his son, seeing that the fortunes of the Dunedain of both realms might rest upon his heir. Yet his son exceeded Araphant's expectations, for Arvedui fell in love with Firiel, the daughter of Ondoher. Then there was great rejoicing in both Gondor and Arnor when this became known, for it seemed to all that the reigniting of friendship between the two realms were now blessed and sealed by this union of the royal houses and the hearts of the Dunedain were uplifted at that time."

Gandalf sighed and shook his head. "Alas, all too short were those days of mirth and high hope for men, as it were only four years after that blessed union that Gondor was attacked again by the Wainriders who came out of the east. So it was that King Ondoher and both his sons Artamir and Faramir fell in battle, north of the Morannon.

The loss of the king and his heirs was a great blow to the Dunedain, and the time of doubt that followed threatened to estrange the two kingdoms yet again. For when the death of Ondoher and his sons became known to Arnor, Arvedui sent to Gondor, claiming the crown as the direct descendant of Isildur and as the husband of Firiel, the only surviving child of Ondoher. He did this because the wise of Arnor now hearkened back to the words of Malbeth that prophesied that Arvedui would become king of a great realm. And though they were grieved indeed at Ondoher's fall, they held that Fate had played a major part, so that the grave choice that was foretold should come to the Dunedain. And that choice now seemed clear to them, as it were to join the two realms under one rule, restoring the High Kingship of old that had been in the days of Elendil.

Now here must be told of the House of the Stewards that was called the House of Hurin. They were descendants of the Steward of King Minardil who was the twenty third king of Gondor. Hurin of Emyn Arnen had been a man of high Numenorean race, and after his day the kings had always chosen their Stewards from among his descendants. Now the Steward during the reign of Ondoher was named Pelendur, and he was a wise man but proud for he held great power in Gondor. To him was committed the rule of the realm after the death of Ondoher and his sons and he held this office for a full year.

Now it was during this time that Arvedui's claim was brought before Pelendur at council and he rejected it, and urged the lords of Gondor to do the same. Then Arvedui did not press his claim when their decision became known to him, for he had neither the power nor the will to oppose the choice of the Dunedain of Gondor.
Thus the crown was thereafter claimed by Earnil, who was a victorious captain in that war with the Wainriders. And it was granted to him with the approval of all the Dunedain of Gondor since he was of the royal house. He was the son of Siriondil, son of Calimmacil, son of Arciyas who was the brother of Narmacil the Second, the twenty seventh king of Gondor."

Here Gandalf paused and the rest of us sat in silence, reflecting upon his words. It was Imrahil who spoke first. "These histories are known to us Mithrandir," he said. "Save perhaps the prophecy of the seer to King Araphant, which is news indeed. However, the way of your words leads me to believe that you apportion a sense of blame to Steward Pelendur and the lords for their choice in denying Arvedui the kingship of Gondor. Yet I would ask if Malbeth's prophecy was known to them? And even if they knew of it, why should we now doubt the claim of Earnil? Was he not of the blood of Anarion?"

"Indeed he was, lord Imrahil," said Gandalf. "Yet when you hear more of what I have to say, you shall better understand the way of my words. For do not think that I apportion any blame to those lords of old. I am merely recounting the fateful decisions of the past which in turn shaped the royal landscape of the here and now, and had a great bearing on some of the grievous outcomes of the war that many now strive to fully understand."

"And so I would hear all that you have to say Mithrandir," said Faramir. "For though I deem your words shall touch me near, I shall endure them. For my heart is troubled and sorely grieved by the manner of my father's death, and the ruin of the tombs of my forebears. It is a thing of which I have long pondered, and yet am no nearer to understanding. For what vengeful wind raged through the silent streets of the Rath Dinen to cause such chaos? What mean-spirited will had its way with the hallowed places of Gondor, to cause such an affront to the final resting places of its great lords? I for my part shall not take offence as to your words Mithrandir, for if some great wrong was done in the far past that has led to this dreadful present, I would know of it."

Gandalf nodded to him. "Indeed, it is not my intention to offend anyone here, but to make you all understand. Yet irreproachable seem the legends of history, even when they are challenged by Truth, which few would heed when it is presented to them. However, since the Steward himself permits me to continue, I shall now speak of a part of the tale of those days that is not known to many, as few records now survive of what took place.

It was in the days after the coronation of Earnil that the Council of Gondor received two strangers who claimed to come from Arnor. One was a man of middle age and with him came a man who was aged beyond the guess of years. The lords of Gondor watched in silence as the two made their way towards them. The younger man supported the elder, who came forward with small furtive steps, being bowed with age and leaning heavily upon a staff that was held by a gnarled hand. Finally they were stood before the lords who looked upon them with doubtful eyes, for they were both travel worn and their weatherstained garments and cloaks were tattered at the hem. The old man stood silent, being hunched over and with head bowed, but the other raised his eyes to those seated before them, and addressed them all.

"Hail, lords of Gondor! I am named Istion and am come from the northern realm of Arnor."

"And what is your business here?" asked Pelendur as he eyed them darkly.

"We seek an audience with the Council of Gondor, my lord," Istion replied.

"Do you indeed?" said Pelendur. "Well, I know not the customs of the Dunedain of the North, yet the Council of Gondor does not give audience to lowly beggars."

"Then perhaps you are at fault," returned Istion, "for the lords of Arnor would deny such a courtesy to no man. And that policy is just one among many that they have fostered from of old, recalling the gracious and generous nature of the men of high race."

Some of the lords stirred angrily in their seats, but Earnil who was wise and not arrogant, raised his hand. "Peace!" he cried to them. Then he turned to Istion. "Forgive the cold welcome of my Steward," he said. "Yet in these times of war and doubt, the lordly kindliness of old is seldom remembered, even among high men. Yet that policy has not been truly forgotten in Gondor as you may think, and so I extend it to you now. If therefore it is an audience you seek, I now grant it. For I am Earnil who is king here."

"You have my thanks lord," said Istion. "And I would ask the Council to forgive our ragged attire. Yet long are the leagues that separate Gondor from Arnor, and many were the rough nights we spent in the open wilderness, as I could not hasten our journey with my aged father."

"And yet you have hastened through our city," said Pelendur, "and passed many lodgings where you could have left your old father to rest, and alone come to speak with us."

"And that I would have done," countered Istion, "if it were my words you would heed. Yet it is my father who would speak with you."

"Then since you claim to come from a land that heeds well the gracious courtesies of old," said the Steward with growing contempt, "let the old man refrain from silence and declare himself before the King of Gondor!"

"Peace lord Pelendur!" called a voice. A great silence then fell upon the hall at the dint of its tone. Deep and rich it was, possessing a power to hold ears and minds enthralled to its words. The old man slowly raised his head and set his eyes upon the seated lords. His face was grey and withered like an old stone, and snow white was his long beard and wispy hair. Yet his eyes gleamed with starry flames that held each lord in their gaze, piercing their hearts and searching their minds. Their light finally came to rest upon Pelendur, who turned his face aside as he could not long endure their fiery glance.

"Stay your ire, Steward of Gondor!" said the old man. The lords were filled with amazement, as they disbelieved that such a voice could come from his ancient lips. But the old man slowly straightened, and rose to his full height and behold! he was tall and masterful; as a great lord of old or an ancient sage from out of the vanished West!

He turned then to the king. "I would echo my son's sentiments in asking that you pardon our ragged attire that would have us seem like lowly beggarsto your eyes. However, my great age indeed forced us to keep slow our pace and yet tarry long upon the road, with only the night sky for our roof and the fallen leaves for our rough beds."

"You are pardoned lord," said Earnil. "Yet may I say that it is indeed a wonder that you made the journey at all. Although, now that you have somewhat revealed yourself to us, I deem that your looks belie the sense of power and stern purpose about you and your voice. Consequently, I reckon that you are a man of great import and would therefore know your name and who you are."

"I fear the king exaggerates the value of my import," replied the old man, "for I am just an aged man who hails from the far northern realm of Arthedain. Yet credit I will take for the power of my voice, as such is the gift of my people. Long have my kindred lived in Middle-earth, and it has been our part to watch the slow passing of the years, fathoming the will of Fate's purpose within the deeds of the world. And so we have watched the realm of Gondor rise from its infancy.
From the first stone blocks of Minas Arnor to Gondor's early rulers. From the great Ship Kings to Gondor's glory days as a vast realm. From the earliest signs of Gondor's decay to the darkness of the Kinstrife. From the sufferings of Gondor's people during the deadly plague to the evils of the unceasing wars with the tribes of the east.
In all that time, my kind have followed the fortunes of the heirs of Elendil of both Gondor and Arnor. And whenever it has been permitted, we have broken our silence, and from our mouths would recount the will of Fate. And so it was bidden that I come to Gondor and reveal to its lords the path that is set before them. For I am named Malbeth the Seer."

A grave silence followed as the lords took in his words. It was Earnil who finally spoke. "A seer you say!" he said. "I have heard tell of them from afar. It is said they have a potent power of foresight which they reveal at times to those who would take heed."

"And so it has always been with my kindred," said Malbeth. "For our line began in the land of Numenor that is now gone. Our foremother was one Olorime, who was the second sister of Earendur, who was the fifteenth Lord of Andunie. From our people came Tar-Palantir the Farsighted, and many others whom throughout the years have revealed the will of Fate to men."

"And what would you reveal to us that is to our benefit?" asked Pelendur with scorn. "The councils and deeds of Gondor are sound! We have no need for the aid of ragged soothsayers."

The old man set his shining eyes upon him and a tussle of wills ensued. But Pelendur soon gave way in defeat and bowed his head.
Then Malbeth spoke to him in a soft voice. "Indeed Steward Pelendur, I deem it true that you would not think to heed my words as they would reveal much of the far reaching ambitions of your house." Pelendur's face darkened but Malbeth turned to the rest of the lords. "However, I would think there are others here who would listen to what I have to say." No lord spoke as none would deny him.

"Therefore heed my words, lords of Gondor!" he began. "For in them is revealed the will of Fate and the path of Gondor that shall be.
Two choices lay before the Dunedain. Upon one side the High Kingship could have been restored, and upon the other, the kingship should fall to darkness. Few discerned that it was not for naught that the newfound friendship between the Dunedain of the North and South occured. Or that the joining in marriage of Arvedui son of Araphant and Firiel daughter of Ondoher, took place. For in those deeds were signs that the High Kingship of the Dunedain was at hand. That a new dawn of kin-ship between the Dunedain had arisen. One of strengthened ties and deep friendships; of loyal oaths and powerful alliances. This was the policy of the Numenoreans in the high and mighty days of Elendil, and that could have been for you all, had you chosen differently.
However, the path you have taken shall soon lead to the end of that which you have all sought to protect... the kingship of Gondor!"

The lords murmured to each other in their disquiet. "Indeed, one king only shall Gondor have after Earnil son of Siriondil," continued Malbeth. "For the spirits of the rested kings of both Gondor and Arnor are angered, and the bones of Elendil and his sons turn in their graves. For by the selfish decrees of this council has the purer line of Elendil been denied its inheritance! Therefore the kingship of Gondor that you have all clung to shall fail, and none shall be found thereafter to claim it."

He then turned his bright eyes to the Steward. "Yet the house of Pelendur shall be rewarded. For in the rejection of the rightful claim to the throne, it is known that the Steward has played the chief part. And his ambitions have grown, as I have heard he would now take the Stewardship to be a hereditary heirloom of his house, even as a kingship, from father to son or nearest kin. Therefore his secret desire shall indeed come to fruition, as it will be the Stewards of the house of Pelendur who shall be left to rule the realm of Gondor. And years beyond count shall pass under their long reign, but the memory of the kings shall fade. And in their pride the Ruling Stewards shall harden their hearts to the return of the heirs of Elendil, and ponder upon how many lives of men it would take before their house should receive the sceptre.

Yet never shall that desire bear fruit! For a time will come when Sauron should rise again. And in those days there shall be born to the Stewards one who is more kingly than all of his line before him. For Fate shall grant him a great power of body and mind, and the very air of Numenor shall be with him. Yet bequeathed to him also shall be the pride of his forebears.
However, in his day another shall come from the faded north. Indeed from the very house that the proud lords of Gondor would now look down upon with disdain. For he shall be of the line of Arvedui and Firiel, which would bear the blood of Isildur and Anarion. And in him shall be read the true inheritance of the kings as the very spirit of Elendil the High King shall be with him. And in the final contest between good and evil, it is he who shall lead the race of men against the darkness of Sauron.

But the power of the Ruling Stewards shall at that time come to an end. And the last of their rulers will fall to darkness through folly and pride, bringing the house of his fathers crashing down upon their bones in fiery ruin! Only then shall the anger of the king's of old be appeased, and the will of Fate be achieved!"

Malbeth fell silent and all the lords were astounded by his grim words, and many of them were afraid. Yet it is said that Pelendur gazed at the old man in wonder, seeing perhaps the glory of his house that would usurp the throne and rule for many lives of men.

But Malbeth addressed them for the last time. "Such are my words, lords of Gondor! Let all who would, take heed!"
With that, he bowed and turned to leave the council hall. Thereafter, he and Istion were never seen or heard from again.

Now the lords of Gondor began to discuss the portent that was laid before them, and not a few repented of their decision to deny Arvedui the crown. Yet the clamour of dissent among the lords threatened to escalate into angry confrontations.

Then Pelendur rose from his seat and called for all to be silent.
"But what is this agitation that riles the great lords of Gondor?" he cried to them. "What grim spell has this old man cast upon you? Will you let the words of a crazed vagabond confuse our councils? Nay, say it is not so!

This Malbeth claims to be a seer of note, yet what are his proofs? A trained voice that seeks to daunt those who would foolishly heed his wild words? Or is it his vague and doubtful claim to high Numenorean descent from the royal house of Andunie? Or perhaps it is his well rehearsed speech of grim prophecy, that would sate his indignation at our refusal to allow his undeserving lord to rule our great realm.
Indeed, I would not put it past Arvedui that he himself sent this old man to us, with the aim of avenging our dismissal of his claim by striking fear into our hearts so that we might repent of our decision. And see now the success of his enterprise! See how many of you now howl your assent for his goal! It grieves me deeply that you lords should all be so fooled. However, I see it as my duty as your Steward to steer you clear of a great folly.

For who is Arvedui to us but a prince of a small realm that teeters upon the brink of obscurity! Should such be given the power of Gondor through marriage, whilst we still have our own rightful claimants to the throne? What has Arvedui ever done for Gondor that should set him above lord Earnil, who is of the royal line of Anarion, and our victorious champion?!

And even if you would heed this Malbeth, would you now make his prophecy known to the people of Gondor and strip Earnil of his title? That mistake may receive some support by the daunted masses, but not all would be willing to follow Arvedui at the expense of lord Earnil "The Saviour of Gondor". Then who knows to what grievous end this matter may yet lead us. For know that no sitting king has ever been deposed in Gondor's history save Eldacar, and we all know of the kinstrife that followed. Deposing Earnil may yield the same evil results, and yet bring utter ruin to Gondor. For our foes in the east would be watching, and waiting for their moment to strike as we fight each other.

Oh you fickle unthinking lords, can you not see how easily swayed you are! Swayed by the threatening words of a harmless old man who seeks to fulfil an ambitious dream for the prince of his decaying land. Is it a wonder that he made swift his exit, fleeing before we could fully question him. For I have no doubt that we would have uncovered his deception, had he given our wits time enough to recover. A seer who speaks of the will of Fate, he declared. What foolishness!

And as for his personal attack upon me, I would say that I am not daunted, and none of you should give an ear to his wild accusations. For in being suspicious of his motives, did I not challenge him from the start? It is surely for this reason that he singled me out for his hatred, and sought to defame my character before you all. Yet what secret ambitions do I harbour? For a year I ruled Gondor as Steward, for it was my duty as we were at war and there was no time to deal with the succession. Yet when all was ready did I cling to the power I had wielded in the name of the kings? Was I not foremost in support for Earnil to take up the throne?

Yet this Malbeth has portrayed me as one who is full of underhand schemes and plots for the power of Gondor. However, my own deeds should vindicate me and thus prove his lies.
Therefore my lords, still your disquiet for it is quite unnecessary. Do not repent of your decision to deny Arvedui the kingship for you have done no wrong. You are counsellors of Gondor who have deliberated with the realm's best interest at heart. There is no fault in that! Heed not the wild words of a crazed old man, but take heart that the right man for Gondor now sits upon the throne!"

So said Pelendur to the lords of Gondor, and most of them believed his words. Yet Earnil was silent and soon left the council. Thereafter he sent a personal message to Arvedui, formally announcing that he had received the Crown of Gondor according to the laws and needs of the South-kingdom. Yet he stated that he did not forget the loyalty of Arnor, nor would he deny their kinship, nor wish that the realms of Elendil should be estranged. He therefore offered Arvedui aid, so far as he was able.

Yet the path of the Dunedain was already set, and things came to pass even as Malbeth had foretold. For the North-kingdom perished with the death of Arvedui who was defeated by the Witch King. And indeed, one king only did Gondor have after Earnil. For Earnur his son earned the hatred of the Witch King through his deeds in battle that aided in the defeat of Angmar. Thereafter, Earnur met his demise through the folly of his pride when he accepted a challenge by the Witch King to single combat. Earnur left for Minas Morgul and never returned, and none were to be found in Gondor to claim the crown he had left upon the lap of his father. And so began the long reign of the Ruling Stewards, of whom the first was Mardil Voronwe, son of Vorondil, son of Pelendur. For twenty five lives of men they ruled Gondor in the name of the kings until the twenty sixth and last, who was Denethor, son of Ecthelion."

Gandalf fell silent and closed his eyes again. We were all amazed by his tale, though some no doubt were more affected by his words.

Faramir let out a long sigh. "Now I begin to understand the fate of my house and the mind's of its lords. They were wise men who were tainted by an old pride that grew into a fear for the loss of their power and the return to the kingship of old."

"Perhaps," said Gandalf. "Nevertheless, they proved to be good custodians of the power of Gondor. They ruled well Faramir and what I have told you should not lessen your opinion of them."

"But how do you know of all this Mithrandir?" asked Imrahil. "You give us the tale in such detail that I would ask if you were there to witness what you have just told us?"

Gandalf smiled. "Nay Imrahil, I was not there to witness those things. Yet such important events have ways of becoming known, even when those who participate in them would try to keep them secret! Now it is well known that a scribe is always present at the councils of Gondor, to record them for posterities sake. So it was that one was present at that council with Malbeth, and he recorded all that was said. However, Pelendur soon ordered that his work be destroyed."

"But why?" asked Imrahil.

"He did not want the words of Malbeth to become known to many," Gandalf replied, "as he felt the seer's words would have sown great disquiet among Gondor's people. The lords remembered the kinstrife of old that did irreparable damage to Gondor, and so they would prevent such a disaster from ever occurring again. You see, the claim of Arvedui was known to all in the land but Earnil was accepted because he was of the house of Anarion and a valiant and popular captain. And he also had the backing of all the lords of Gondor.

But if that decision were now challenged by "Fate", as told by Malbeth, then many would have feared for the prophesied loss of the kingship of the realm, and would therefore have come to support Arvedui's claim. Yet others no doubt would have held firm in their staunch support for Earnil and the house of Anarion. Confusion would have ensued that may have led to grievous internal conflict in Gondor, such that would have crippled the realm that was already embroiled in ceaseless war with the Wainriders."

"Then surely the decision by the lords of Gondor to keep Earnil on the throne cannot be faulted, Mithrandir," said Imrahil. "Their choice seemed good to them according to the wisdom of the day."

"True, but that does not make a good and safe choice right," said Gandalf. "As Malbeth prophesied, if the Dunedain took the choice that seemed less hopeful, they would have arisen to the glories of old. It certainly was not going to be easy Imrahil, but such things never are. It was to be hoped that farsighted wisdom would prevail over nearsighted prudence. In the face of the projected fears for the stability of their realm, the hard choice for the lords would have been rewarded by the renewed High Kingship. In other words, the lords of Gondor did not trust to deep wisdom and the hope it brings. They took the easy choice because of their fears and ambitions. Fears of rebellion in their realm, and ambitions for the enduring power of their houses.

Yet even now, was such a predicament not set before us? Were we not faced with two opposing choices? One that seemed good for our defence, and the other that seemed less hopeful for our victory. For with the Ring, the safe choice, or to some, the good choice, would have been to bring it here to Minas Tirith, to wield its power against Sauron and so gain victory, but at what expense. This was the choice many of the "wise"would have opted for, and even Sauron himself believed that this policy was our intention.

And yet if we had done that, would we be seated here at our ease in sunlit peace? Would we not have deposed one Dark Lord for another, who would in time, instigate more ruin upon the unhappy world.
And yet we took the choice that was deemed less hopeful. 'A fools hope'it was decreed by some. We sought to destroy it! Not even Sauron fathomed our bold counsel and that thankfully proved to be his undoing.

Indeed, who would have thought that entrusting two hobbits with the peril of the world, and sending them alone into the heart of the enemy's realm to destroy the Ring Of Power, would have been the right choice in our war against Sauron. And yet the same can be said for the succession that faced the lords of Gondor. For who would have thought that setting Arvedui upon the throne against the likelihood of rebellion and strife, would have been the right choice for Gondor. Yet our perilous gamble with the ring was rewarded with victory. So too would the High Kingship have been restored, and much evil would have been averted for the exiled Numenoreans."

There was a long thoughtful pause as each of us pondered the wisdom of Mithrandir's words. It was Gimli who first voiced his opinion to what he had heard.

"It is a grievous thing that you say Gandalf," said the dwarf. "That the Stewards brought their own house down upon their bones in fiery ruin through an ancient error in judgement. And now I am grieved for Denethor whom I never met. For he was doomed to pay most dearly for the misdeeds of his forebears."

"I fear that is true Gimli," said Gandalf. "And yet his fate was all the more difficult for him to bear, as you will see.

Now I told you that the scribe who recorded that meeting of the lords of Gondor with Malbeth was told to destroy his work by Pelendur. This he would have done but his work was saved at the last by one Arveldir who was lord of Lossarnach at that time. He was one of the lords who heeded the seer's words. And though he could do nothing to change the course that Gondor now took, he could at least save the proof of Malbeth's prophecy to the Council. Therefore he swore the scribe to secrecy and took the parchments for his own. And so the Prophecy of Gondor (as he called it) was preserved throughout the long years in the house of Arveldir, until it somehow found its way back to Minas Tirith.

It is difficult to guess how this happened, but in the days of Thorondir, the twenty-second Steward, it is said that many ancient families of Gondor began donating historical parchments and scrolls to the loremasters of the city. The White Tree had died upon the death of Belecthor the Second who was Thorondir's father, and no seedling could be found to replace it. With the death of that royal symbol of old, there rose a melancholy and longing among the people for the ancient histories of Gondor and the tales of the high days of the kings. It is at this time I think, that the Prophecy of Gondor found its way to Minas Tirith.

I have no doubt that whoever gave it away had no idea of its importance, and I am sure that whoever received it quickly realised its historical value, and yet wisely hid it from the Stewards in the deep vaults of the city. And there it remained, stashed away in some obscure corner to gather dust and remain unread. And so I found it by chance many years later as I searched for information concerning the histories of Gondor and the beginnings of the city. I was amazed to read its contents, and wondered how such a record could survive the Stewards who would destroy it if its existence became known to them.

Yet my guess is that none of the Ruling Stewards knew of it...save one. For it is now my belief that Denethor found the Prophecy of Gondor. Indeed, it is well known that he was a great loremaster, delving deep into the texts and parchments of the city even in his youth. I am sure that on one of his scholarly excursions he happened upon Arveldir's parchment and read of the grim fate of the Stewards that had been prophesied. And his heart misgave him, seeing that the end of the Stewards rule might be at hand. For Barad-dur was raised once more and Mount Doom had burst into flame, and Denethor fathomed that the great conflict against Sauron would occur in his time. Then these grim words of the prophecy came back to haunt him.

'For a time will come when Sauron should rise again. And in those days there shall be born to the Stewards one who is more kingly than all of his line before him. For Fate shall grant him a great power of body and mind, and the very air of Numenor shall be with him. Yet bequeathed to him also shall be the pride of his forbears.

However, in his day another shall come from the faded north. Indeed from the very house that the proud lords of Gondor would now look down upon with disdain. For he shall be of the line of Arvedui and Firiel which would bear the blood of Isildur and Anarion. And in him shall be read the true inheritance of the kings as the very spirit of Elendil the High King shall be with him. And in the final contest between good and evil, it is he who shall lead the race of men against the darkness of Sauron.

But the power of the Ruling Stewards shall at that time come to an end. And the last of their rulers will fall to darkness through folly and pride, bringing the house of his fathers crashing down upon their bones in fiery ruin! Only then shall the anger of the king's of old be appeased, and the will of Fate be achieved!'

And Denethor watched and waited. And the coming of Thorongil to Minas Tirith set alight his suspicions that here was the one who was prophesied to come from the north to vie against him. And as the years went by his fears turned to bitterness, and he sought to do all he could to retain his power and keep the prophecy from coming true."

Gandalf sighed and shook his head again. His thoughts went back to his many confrontations with the Steward, and pity rose in his heart.
"Indeed few ever fully understood that grim man, who should have been counted among the greatest sons of Gondor, had fate been kinder. For he was kingly indeed, and wise. Yet these inherited traits were turned against him, and from his noble nature came his great pride, and his wisdom soon turned to folly. And yet how much of his fall was his fault, none can say. For it was doomed to be so...even from the days of Pelendur."

A sad silence followed as we all pondered on what we had heard. The sounds of gay banter and jovial laughter came to us from afar. The sturdy white walls of the city glistened in the sunlight, and the banner of the king flapped proudly in the mountain breeze. A palpable sense of hope was in the air, yet it seemed all the more poignant, knowing the losses and sorrows upon the hard road to get here. Those of us who did not know the Steward were deeply affected by Gandalf's words, but those who knew him all sat with their heads bowed low in grief.

"Now I understand you at last Mithrandir," said Imrahil with a sigh. "It is grievous indeed to be told of these things about my kinsman and his house. And to know that there are evils other than that of Mordor which would work long and slow against a house of noble men who sit in power with only good intentions for the glory of their realm, fills me with greatest sorrow."

"Truly do you speak Imrahil," said Gandalf. "But what is past is past. For it is our part to allay our sorrows by learning from those ancient mistakes, and look to the future with hope. "Fate" if you will, has reset its course, and the spirits of the kings of old have been appeased. A new king sits upon the throne, and he has the wisest of Stewards at his side. Things have returned to what they should have been, and that is all to the good."

Gandalf then turned to Faramir, who sat bowed in mournful silence, with a hand to his lowered brow. "Do not be overly sorrowful, son of Denethor," he said. "For in you is restored the Stewardship of yore. The burial house of your fathers shall be rebuilt, and their bones set again upon their beds to rest in peace."

"And ever shall Pelendur and his descendants be honoured in Gondor," said king Elessar. "For they ruled with the greatest love for their country and people. No king could have done any better."

Faramir looked up and turned to Aragorn and gave him a faint smile. "What I have heard today has not been easy to endure. But seldom has the truth ever been to the liking of those who would hear it. Now do I yearn all the more for my father, as I too understand him at last. And for that I am grateful, as I can now cherish his memory without the blemish of bitterness."

"And I shall work even harder to restore the House of the Stewards," said Peregrin, wiping a tear from his eye. "For though lord Denethor was a grim master to serve, he had my affection. But I will miss him even more, now that I somewhat understand his mood."

Gandalf smiled at that. "Well Pippin, do you not think my words have achieved my initial aim," he said. "You thought I had something bad to tell you, yet my interesting tale has led you all to grave understanding."

"I suppose you are right Gandalf," Peregrin replied, "as always."

The old wizard laughed and the rest of us smiled. Our mood grew lighter, but I could see that Samwise was troubled by some thought.

"What is it Sam?" I asked him.

"Well Mr Frodo, I've been thinking about this Will of Fate that old Gandalf speaks of."

"And what of it?"

"It's just that I would like to know if we were fated to take the ring to Mordor and cast it into Mount Doom. I mean, we certainly seemed the unlikeliest choice for the job, being two little hobbits and Gollum, if you get my meaning. It just seems a little strange is all. Perhaps Gandalf could shed a bit of light on the matter."

Gandalf looked intently at Samwise. "Well, well, who would have thought that Sam Gamgee would ask the gravest question of all! Then again why should I be surprised." He laughed softly at that and gave a small nod to himself.

"Your question is one that baffled me for a long time Sam," he began. "But it all makes sense to me now. To understand, we must first ponder the power of the ring and its perilous nature. For it was more dangerous than any weapon the enemy had ever created. Not even Morgoth of old had thought to create anything as dire as the Ring of Power. For its peril lay not only in its use by the servants of evil, but of greater import was the fact that even the goodly and the wise could be enticed and tainted by its power. No one was safe from its dire influence. How then could such a thing be destroyed?

It was a mercy to Isildur that he died when he did, and the ring plunged into the waters of the Anduin. Yet the peril of Sauron finding it was ever present. Think of how he returned to make Dol Guldur his abode, ignoring the peril of choosing a realm that lay so near his enemies. But I think he was drawn against his wisdom to that area by the power that had kept him alive, his ring. The Gladden Fields lay almost one hundred and thirty miles to the north, but that was near enough. It would not be long before the tale of Isildur's demise came to Sauron's ears, who would then task his servants to search the river. The ring had to be moved!

Yet who of the free peoples of Middle-earth would suffice to bear it with relative safety?
The elves? With the inherent power that is in them, the ring would have created a new dark lord to challenge Sauron for the dominion of Middle-earth.
What of the dwarves? The ring would have created a master of a grim clan, who would have garnered its power for great wealth and unceasing conquest.
And what of the race of men? We need only look at the Nazgul to know of the fate of men who bore Rings of Power. Think now of the terrible being the One Ring would have unleashed upon us!

Nay, it was not at all safe for the ring to pass into the hands of any of those kindreds. And worst of all would have been the consequences had it come into the hands of one of my order. Saruman is a good enough example of that!
That left only the race of Halflings. They were innocent and unassuming enough to take the ring and keep it without great consequence. And so Deagol was chosen to find it, and Smeagol was chosen to keep it.

Chosen I say, for this was the beginning of Fate's hand in matters. And yet I am grieved. Many times have I wondered why I was not there to guide Smeagol with the ring as I did Bilbo and you Frodo. And yet I believe it was not my time to become involved in the matter. The ring had to be hidden away for many more years before the time was right to set plans in motion for its destruction. And so Smeagol was fatedwith the task of being the ring's lone guardian, and he swiftly felt the repercussions of that terrible doom. The murder of Deagol led to his guilt, and the suspicions of his family had him banished. Yet that grim start to his ownership of the ring was sadly a necessity, as he had to leave his home and hide himself.

For had he not moved, he would have surely been betrayed by the power of the ring's immortality, and discovered by the enemy. Nay, he had to go where the ring and its effects over him would not be known. The dark holes of the Misty Mountains were the perfect place for him to remain hidden from the eyes of the world, and the safest place to keep the ring out of all knowledge. And so there he stayed, for over five hundred years in that cold dark hole, and the thought of how he endured all those unending days of darkness is not to be imagined. But the ring stayed with him until the time came when it had to be moved again. Smeagol had fulfilled his role as the ring's guardian, but it had to be brought out of the dark, and to the attention of those of us who would see its destruction. The ring needed a fresh hand!

And so it was given into the care of yet another halfling, Bilbo Baggins. But Bilbo's fortunes with the ring were to be mercifully of a wholesome nature. For he was fated to begin his ownership of the ring through pity and not through murder. And he used the ring sparingly in his adventure, and kept it wisely when he returned home. And I was there to watch over him. For over sixty years it remained safely in his possession until it had to pass on to its final guardian, you Frodo.
And in my quest to find out more about the ring, I finally came across Smeagol who had been found by Aragorn. The more I spoke with him, the more I began to understand his place in the strange history of the Ring of Power, and never have I pitied anyone as I did Smeagol in that sorrowful hour. For to be destined to such a thankless fate is terrible indeed!

I thereafter sat long with Thranduil and explained Smeagol's situation as best as I could. And such is the wisdom of elves that Thranduil came to understand the plight of that sad hobbit. I myself hoped against hope that Smeagol could be cured, for he deserved that at the very least for the five hundred years of solitary sacrifice he gave for the safety of the ring. And so Thranduil agreed to keep him and treat him as well as he could. Alas, it was not Smeagol's doom to remain with the elves and find some semblance of peace.

When I returned to you Frodo after those nine long years, I understood fully the important role of the Halflings in this matter, as well as the part Fate had played. Indeed I tried to make you understand that greater powers were at work.
I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was meant to find the ring, and not by its maker. In which case you also were meant to have it. And that may be an encouraging thought.
TAKEN FROM THE LORD OF THE RINGS; CHAPTER TWO "THE SHADOW OF THE PAST"
Do you not remember my words to you concerning your fate? Yet the same could be said for Smeagol too. He was meant to find the ring just as much as you and Bilbo were. And so ensuing events led to the falls of Rauros and the breaking of the fellowship. And it is truly so that you Sam were fatedfrom the beginning to aid your master in his quest to find the Cracks of Doom. You guessed Frodo's mind and found him floating away in a nick of time.

Yet I will say that the quest would still have been in vain, were it not for the unexpected aid of Smeagol. His guidance through the Dead Marshes and his wise intervention before the Black Gate cannot be discounted. And even though none of us who heard he was leading you to the pass of Cirith Ungol, liked the path he was taking, with hindsight it can be agreed that there was probably no other way that would have got you into Mordor in time. And yet Fate had one final role for him to play. His ultimate sacrifice in taking the ring with him into the fiery chasm of Sammath Naur."

Gandalf sighed and the others all solemnly gazed at the wizard. Only I sat with my head bowed in grief, as I fully understood Smeagol's anguish and Gandalf's pity. But I was not the only one who was so moved.

"I remember when Frodo told me that Smeagol once bore the ring," said Faramir. "And in my great surprise I said the matter wound itself ever in new riddles, and that I would gladly learn how Smeagol became possessed by the ring, and how he lost it. Now I am answered, and am filled with pity. Had I known then what I know now, I would have been less harsh with him."

"You speak for me also," said Aragorn. "A wretched gangling creature is all we saw, filled with malice and wickedness that blinded us to his evil plight. Yet I now realise that we owe him far more than was to be thought."

Gandalf nodded to him in agreement and then turned to Sam. "And how do you feel about Smeagol?" he asked.

I knew of Sam's deep dislike for the poor creature, yet what he then said filled me with surprise.

"I guess I pity him too," he said. "And it's not solely because of what you've just said, begging your pardon Gandalf." He sat then with a thoughtful look upon his face.

"Well Sam," I said.

He sighed. "You won't remember this Mr Frodo, as you were on your way up the path to that dark door that led into the mountain. I stayed behind to finally deal once and for all with that wretched creature. There I was with sword in hand, ready to do battle and avenge Smeagol's treachery. My mind was hot with wrath and the memory of evil, and I remember thinking it would be just and many times deserved to slay him. But Smeagol didn't spring at me as I thought he would. He fell flat on the ground, whimpering for me not to kill him.

'Let us live,' he said. 'Yes, live just a little longer. Lost lost! We're lost. And when Precious goes we'll die, yes, die into the dust.'
And then I felt something restrain my hand that came from deep in my heart. I couldn't strike that utterly wretched creature, lying there in the dust. And I guessed for a moment, the agony of Smeagol's shrivelled mind that was enslaved to the ring and unable to find peace or relief ever in life again.
I let him go after that. But I've come to realise that whatever power had guided we three hobbits to that place, it now tried to show me the terrible price Smeagol had to pay to fulfil his role. And by his own words to me, he showed that he realised his end was near, and yet he begged me to let him live just a little longer so he could complete the wretched task that was ordained to him. And I'll never forget what you said when it was all over Mr Frodo.
'But for Smeagol the quest would have been in vain, even at the bitter end. So let us forgive him!'
And so I have Mr Frodo, so I have."

"Samwise Gamgee, now you havetruly surprised me!" exclaimed Gandalf. "I see that this ordeal has given you deep wisdom, and that shall hold you in good stead in the years to come. For all of you here shall be the leaders of your kindreds, and entrusted to rule them wisely in the new age that is to come. And to speak of the things we have today is to make you aware of the past and learn from it and understand it."

The noon bells began to toll in the city and Gandalf rose from where he sat. "Well, we have spoken long enough and I deem the hobbits are hungry. Let us go to our noon meal."

"Now that is the wisest thing Gandalf has said all day!" said Peregrin, to the laughter of all.

---

Author's Commentary:

This is my first Third Age story of which I thought to do a conversational piece. There's nothing much I can say about it except that it's a story that shall polarize the readers. Those who like the Stewards may hate it, while those who are Gollum fans will probably like it. Those who thrive on dialogue driven pieces won't mind it, but those who are into descriptive essays will shun it. As the author I can only hope that many of you will read it.
Feedback will be most welcome.

Thanx!!

Dedicated to the wonderful world of FanFic.