BalerionTheDrake
Pacta sunt servanda
[X] The Hall
[X] Knights
[X] Knights
Akallabêth
- Thread starter Telamon
- Start date
II: Birthright
- Location
- Texas
[X] The Vineyard: At the mouth of the river Siril, in the eastern part of the island, there stands a fishing village called Nindamos, a dwelling of considerable size for a city of lesser men but nearly insignificant in Númenor. It is a fertile land with many shining pools full of fish, and here King Tar-Atanamir held many vinyards and gardens, and many times held his court in summer. When his great-grandson Tar-Alcarin was usurped for twenty years, he fled here into exile, and dwelt gardening by the sea, recieving what few vistors would come to see him amidst the flowering vines. The fishermen of the Siril are small and shrewd, a loyal folk whose hearts are not easily turned.
[X] Middle Men: In the court of your father, there were many visitors and advisors from across all the dominions of the High Men. Lissom limbed envoys from Harad, ochre skinned and long bearded men from Rhun, blonde northlings from beyond the mountains, all these and more gathered in the court of the King, and paid him fealty as friend and liege. When the usurper came, these were driven out or slain, that Númenóreans should not mingle with lesser men, and some were even enslaved. Your intercession on their behalf has saved some few of the small men from death or worse than death.
[X] Middle Men: In the court of your father, there were many visitors and advisors from across all the dominions of the High Men. Lissom limbed envoys from Harad, ochre skinned and long bearded men from Rhun, blonde northlings from beyond the mountains, all these and more gathered in the court of the King, and paid him fealty as friend and liege. When the usurper came, these were driven out or slain, that Númenóreans should not mingle with lesser men, and some were even enslaved. Your intercession on their behalf has saved some few of the small men from death or worse than death.
These are black days.
It is written that in before times, when the Tall Men were young and wore no swords, that even the weather of the Blessed Isle was as a friend to them: that rain and sun and cloud alike came in their proper season and time, and never in greater measure than was needed. All things were blessed then, and the skies were blue and clear always and even the wind came oftentimes sweet and without edge over the western sea, and on that west wind were the smells of honeywine and loam and ripe flowering things, and sharper and stranger scents also, which are not known on mortal shores.
But no more: now it rains for days at a time. It is a heavy rain, and hard, and the rivers are filled to flooding and the waters run down from the hills and make dark swamps of the green lands. There is hail sometimes, and on many days lightning, and the clouds are black as if with ash and they pass now low and terrible over the land, casting dark shadows in the shape of mighty wings. In days gone by, your people might have wept to see such signs, and made sacrifices on the holy mountain to calm the heavens. But these are the days of Ar-Pharazôn the king and the Númenóreans are now too great and too proud for fear.
So the skies weep day and night, and there is always glory in the halls of the king.
Of old, the King would call his court only on momentous occasions: feast days of great import, times of crisis, moments when the hearts and minds of all Númenóreans bent towards Armenelos. In your girlhood, the halls of the Royal house were most often filled from day to day with friends and servants and family.
The court of Ar-Pharazôn the Golden has no end. Always there is glory and always there is gilt. Always there are cringing suitors bending low, and viziers in highcollared robes and old lords and ladies in mighty panoply with long trains of slaves bearing bright gifts. There are thousands, always coming and going, a ceaseless throng of humanity. At the front of it all sits the Usurper, a grim star orbited by many. On his brow sits a stolen crown, and at his side...
On his right, there is you, in flaring robes which are of silver and samite. You wear a great necklace of white jewels from the dwarf halls, each the size of a raven's egg. Atop your head is a crown of mother of pearl set with topaz. Men kneel before you and lay false honors on your ears, and your face is a mask without emotions. Few meet your eyes.
On the king's left, sometimes standing and sometimes sitting in a chair of black oak, is the Wizard. He is tall, and slender, fair of shape and form, with a lean angular face and clever eyes the heavy grey of beaten iron. He is simply dressed in robes the color of smoke and fire. As is his eternal custom, he wears no jewelry, save an unadorned golden ring on the first finger of his left hand. He speaks little, but men kiss his hand and bring him gifts. From time to time, he leans to the Usurper's ear and whispers something only he may hear.
Between the two of you is the Usurper: supple and tall and muscled all over, his golden hair shot with white. When he smiles, men smile. When he laughs, men laugh. When he angers, the Wizard speaks for him.
You cannot say rightly that he is a worse king than your father. Where Tar-Palantir dithered, Ar-Pharazôn commands. He is decisive and shrewd and unflinching, and when he angers, the Wizard speaks for him.
High are his banners now, black and gold and many in number, and if men are not happier then they prosper more than ever, and the great halls are raised ever higher and every day the ships return over the sea laden with slaves and treasure, and none might say without lying that Númenor is not great indeed.
And yet outside the rain does not stop, and when the king angers, the Wizard speaks for him.
No. One day, you decide, and it is certain. You can remain here no longer. The bright halls are cold, the great court is dark. The White Tree dims, as a jewel in a growing night.
When you make the request, late one afternoon with the rain drumming on the roofs above, the king is irate. His face clouds and the handsome neck purples with veins. You are his, he booms, and he will not suffer to lose anything which is his own. He rises from his stolen seat, and his eyes are terrible. For a moment, you are afraid he will strike you.
But then the Wizard leans over, red hair falling about his face, and speaks softly into the Usurper's ear. A few words, only, but the storm passes. The king slumps back into his chair. He looks at you for a moment longer, then waves his hand as if shooing a gnat.
"You may go where you wish. Do it quickly." It is not the king who speaks.
The Wizard watches you until you leave the hall, a shadow of a smile playing across that fair face. His eyes, you think, seem to dance with a cold fire.
You leave a few days later. Your court is a hurried assembly of a few dozen, maids and servants and armsmen who promised love to your house in better times. You are waited upon primarily by Middle-Men, inhabitants of Middle-Earth who were brought to the court of Tar-Palantir in the time of your father. They hail from many continents and many lands, and they are as varied in the colors of their skin and hair as the rainbow is varied. They are all of them small, shorter by half than even the shortest among the Numenoreans, but they carry themselves well, and in these days when the Blessed Isle has grown unfriendly and hard to the small men, they owe you nothing less than their lives.
Your departure is sudden, and you are watched from all sides by unfriendly faces. You are forced to leave much behind...but there are some few things you are able to take with you from the palace walls. The greatest heirloom of your house, the Sceptre of the Kings, is held by the Usurper, but a thousand years of treasures wait in the house of the king in Armenelos, greatest of the cities of the kings of men. Their master guards them jealously as he does all things, but there are places where only one of royal blood may walk, doors which may be commanded to open only by the line of Elros, and men who will still obey a word from a Princess of the Land of the Star. Not much may be saved, not much at all...but some things.
It galls you, to take in secrecy and flight what should have been yours by birth.
Pick Two
[] Calmacil, The Kingsilver: In the days of Tar-Telemmaitë the Silver Hand, so called for his love of wealth, the Númenóreans thirsted greatly for the treasures of the earth. In those days there was friendship between dwarves and men, and hearing of the king's love of the truesilver, the dwarves of Moria made him then a scabbard from mithril pure, and laid bright stones upon the hilt which shone as many stars. So fair was it to look upon that men called it Calmacil, the blade of light, scabbard of the kings of glory. Though never worn in battle it's splendor was so great to look upon that for a time it became the foremost sign of Kingship in the blessed isle. Seven hundred years past, Herumor the son of Tar-Alcarin took as his throne name Tar-Calmacil, and wore the scabbard wherever he want, and in those days it was called also the Kingsilver, and the names of the kings of the House of Elros were written on it in the tongue of the men of the West. Of old it was said that the bearer might see through all lies and discern the true hearts of men, and that justice and right rule came easily to them. But the scabbard was of dwarven make and elvish name, and so as the Shadow lengthened over the hearts of the kings they found that its beauty sickened them, and in time they shut it away, and it was forgotten.
[] The White Flower: Long ago, in the land of Doriath, a daughter was born to the elvenking Thingol, more fair than mortal tongue can tell. Luthien was her name, and her beauty remains even still a thing of song. She was the fairest of all the maidens of the Elves, and the mightest in song and strength of spirit of all elves who have lived in Middle-Earth or across the sea. At the moment of her birth, small white flowers bloomed on the hills of Doriath, and did not fade until the day of her death -- a true dying, a mortal dying, and the only death an elf has ever suffered in all these long years of the sun. A pressing of one of these flowers has been passed down through the centuries to your house, who are the children of Luthien through many long years. When you hold it in your hand, the faded leaves do not seem so dim, or so flat, or so old -- and the world does not seem so dark.
[] The Bow of Bregor: A thousand years ago and twice more again, and a thousand more still, the first Men came across the Blue Mountains into Beleriand. There they entered into the service of the elves in their long war against their terrible Enemy. The first men to come were the House of Beor, and they were settled in a land called Ladros. In the days of the wars in Beleriand, Bregor son of Boromir was Lord of Ladros. Of him and his line are all the heroes of all the songs: Beren and Húrin, Túrin and Tuor, the great Men who braved death and darkness alike, who battled and slew dragons, who fought and loved elves, who dared even the iron hells of Morgoth, and from whom are descended the Númenóreans and their kings. It is Bregor and his heirs who earned Númenor, Bregor and his heirs whose heroism even in the blackest of hours won Men their Gift. There is not a child on the isle who has not been raised on these stories, and there is not a man or woman grown who does not love them in their heart, and it is for this that the Bow is loved, though it has not been fired in anger for lifetimes uncounted: it is a living link to the great stories.
[] Aranrúth: A king there was in days of old, ere men yet walked upon the world. In the lost land of Doriath there dwelt an elvenking more fair and proud than any who now live, even the Usurper. Elu Thingol was he, the Greycloak, whose thought was deep and whose power was as the foundations of the world. Much older than sun and moon, and much wiser still: many, mortal and immortal alike, knelt before his throne in Elder Days, and even the Enemy feared his name. To this day he echoes yet in all stories of the First Age. Aranrúth was his blade, which never left his side, and it came down through the centuries to become an heirloom of the House of Elros, who were descended in long line through the many unfailing years from that mighty king of glen and glade. There are not many living in the Blessed Isle any longer who will recount that ancient ancestry, not if they value their tongue or their lives, but the sword is held still in high honor by those who know it's history -- not only among the Faithful, but among the Elves of Middle-Earth, who sing sad songs still of Thingol Greymantle.
[] The Dragon-helm of Dor-lómin: A mighty dwarven helm of solid steel, too massive for mere men or elves, which might only be worn by the stoutest of the Númenóreans. It is carven all over in gold and brass, written with runes of victory and war. The crest is the sinuous form of a golden dragon. This is the black helm of Turin, the bandit and warlord, the dragonslayer, the most damned and doomed of all the heroes of the race of men. It was said that the helm held the power to turn away wounds, to shatter blades and break darts, to bring fear even to the greatest of foes. Of the heroes of the Elder Days, Turin is one of the few from whom the hearts of the Númenóreans have not turned, though perhaps he is loved now in a different manner from their forefathers. In recent centuries Armenelos has even become home to the Cult of Turin, an order of fanatics enspelled by heroism and death, who exalt Turin as a battler and a slayer, an enemy even of elves. They are popular among the King's Men, and their society has spread quickly among many of the cities of the Men of the West.
[] The Banner of Tar-Ciryatan: In the days of his glory, Tar-Ciryatan the twelfth king led the armies of the Blessed Isle against the great Enemy, Sauron of Mordor. He broke his armies at the walls of Tharbad, and afterwards expanded his dominion and his power across all the coasts of Middle Earth. This was the banner that flew above his armies and from the ramparts of his high halls when his armies were on the march: a sun and tree, all in gold, ringed with white on a field of blue. Even when the greatest of the kings of old were scorned as elffriends and fools, Tar-Ciryatan remained well loved, a battler and hero and a master over darkness. It is only with the coming of the Wizard to the courts of the king that his name has become shunned, and that his banner is no more flown in the Halls of Elros.
[] The Elfstone: The Elessar. The Elfstone. The Stone of Eärendil. Of all the treasures passed down from Eärendil to his son Elros, this was the fairest and most loved. It is a jewel, emerald green of the deepest forests, but it shines as is if all the light of sun and star were within. One of a set of two made by a great elf smith in an age gone by, it was given by Idril, last princess of Gondolin, to her son Eärendil the Halfelven. The Halfelven sailed his ship out of the mists of the world into the high heavens long ago — where the stories say he sails still, bearing a stone mightier by far — but when the first visitors came to the Blessed Isle from across the Western Sea, they brought the Elfstone as a gift for the new king. It's powers and supposed properties are innumerable. It is said to heal hurts, reverse decay, clear minds, lift hearts, and even to make night shine as day. It weaves in and out of the legends of the Men of the West, and like many such treasures it is hated by the Wizard -- but this one, you suspect, most of all.
[] The White Flower: Long ago, in the land of Doriath, a daughter was born to the elvenking Thingol, more fair than mortal tongue can tell. Luthien was her name, and her beauty remains even still a thing of song. She was the fairest of all the maidens of the Elves, and the mightest in song and strength of spirit of all elves who have lived in Middle-Earth or across the sea. At the moment of her birth, small white flowers bloomed on the hills of Doriath, and did not fade until the day of her death -- a true dying, a mortal dying, and the only death an elf has ever suffered in all these long years of the sun. A pressing of one of these flowers has been passed down through the centuries to your house, who are the children of Luthien through many long years. When you hold it in your hand, the faded leaves do not seem so dim, or so flat, or so old -- and the world does not seem so dark.
[] The Bow of Bregor: A thousand years ago and twice more again, and a thousand more still, the first Men came across the Blue Mountains into Beleriand. There they entered into the service of the elves in their long war against their terrible Enemy. The first men to come were the House of Beor, and they were settled in a land called Ladros. In the days of the wars in Beleriand, Bregor son of Boromir was Lord of Ladros. Of him and his line are all the heroes of all the songs: Beren and Húrin, Túrin and Tuor, the great Men who braved death and darkness alike, who battled and slew dragons, who fought and loved elves, who dared even the iron hells of Morgoth, and from whom are descended the Númenóreans and their kings. It is Bregor and his heirs who earned Númenor, Bregor and his heirs whose heroism even in the blackest of hours won Men their Gift. There is not a child on the isle who has not been raised on these stories, and there is not a man or woman grown who does not love them in their heart, and it is for this that the Bow is loved, though it has not been fired in anger for lifetimes uncounted: it is a living link to the great stories.
[] Aranrúth: A king there was in days of old, ere men yet walked upon the world. In the lost land of Doriath there dwelt an elvenking more fair and proud than any who now live, even the Usurper. Elu Thingol was he, the Greycloak, whose thought was deep and whose power was as the foundations of the world. Much older than sun and moon, and much wiser still: many, mortal and immortal alike, knelt before his throne in Elder Days, and even the Enemy feared his name. To this day he echoes yet in all stories of the First Age. Aranrúth was his blade, which never left his side, and it came down through the centuries to become an heirloom of the House of Elros, who were descended in long line through the many unfailing years from that mighty king of glen and glade. There are not many living in the Blessed Isle any longer who will recount that ancient ancestry, not if they value their tongue or their lives, but the sword is held still in high honor by those who know it's history -- not only among the Faithful, but among the Elves of Middle-Earth, who sing sad songs still of Thingol Greymantle.
[] The Dragon-helm of Dor-lómin: A mighty dwarven helm of solid steel, too massive for mere men or elves, which might only be worn by the stoutest of the Númenóreans. It is carven all over in gold and brass, written with runes of victory and war. The crest is the sinuous form of a golden dragon. This is the black helm of Turin, the bandit and warlord, the dragonslayer, the most damned and doomed of all the heroes of the race of men. It was said that the helm held the power to turn away wounds, to shatter blades and break darts, to bring fear even to the greatest of foes. Of the heroes of the Elder Days, Turin is one of the few from whom the hearts of the Númenóreans have not turned, though perhaps he is loved now in a different manner from their forefathers. In recent centuries Armenelos has even become home to the Cult of Turin, an order of fanatics enspelled by heroism and death, who exalt Turin as a battler and a slayer, an enemy even of elves. They are popular among the King's Men, and their society has spread quickly among many of the cities of the Men of the West.
[] The Banner of Tar-Ciryatan: In the days of his glory, Tar-Ciryatan the twelfth king led the armies of the Blessed Isle against the great Enemy, Sauron of Mordor. He broke his armies at the walls of Tharbad, and afterwards expanded his dominion and his power across all the coasts of Middle Earth. This was the banner that flew above his armies and from the ramparts of his high halls when his armies were on the march: a sun and tree, all in gold, ringed with white on a field of blue. Even when the greatest of the kings of old were scorned as elffriends and fools, Tar-Ciryatan remained well loved, a battler and hero and a master over darkness. It is only with the coming of the Wizard to the courts of the king that his name has become shunned, and that his banner is no more flown in the Halls of Elros.
[] The Elfstone: The Elessar. The Elfstone. The Stone of Eärendil. Of all the treasures passed down from Eärendil to his son Elros, this was the fairest and most loved. It is a jewel, emerald green of the deepest forests, but it shines as is if all the light of sun and star were within. One of a set of two made by a great elf smith in an age gone by, it was given by Idril, last princess of Gondolin, to her son Eärendil the Halfelven. The Halfelven sailed his ship out of the mists of the world into the high heavens long ago — where the stories say he sails still, bearing a stone mightier by far — but when the first visitors came to the Blessed Isle from across the Western Sea, they brought the Elfstone as a gift for the new king. It's powers and supposed properties are innumerable. It is said to heal hurts, reverse decay, clear minds, lift hearts, and even to make night shine as day. It weaves in and out of the legends of the Men of the West, and like many such treasures it is hated by the Wizard -- but this one, you suspect, most of all.
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nachtingale
20. On that "honk, mimimi" type beat everyday.
- Location
- Malaysia
- Pronouns
- He/They
[X] The White Flower: Long ago, in the land of Doriath, a daughter was born to the elvenking Thingol, more fair than mortal tongue can tell. Luthien was her name, and her beauty remains even still a thing of song. She was the fairest of all the maidens of the Elves, and the mightest in song and strength of spirit of all elves who have lived in Middle-Earth or across the sea. At the moment of her birth, small white flowers bloomed on the hills of Doriath, and did not fade until the day of her death -- a true dying, a mortal dying, and the only death an elf has ever suffered in all these long years of the sun. A pressing of one of these flowers has been passed down through the centuries to your house, who are the children of Luthien through many long years. When you hold it in your hand, the faded leaves do not seem so dim, or so flat, or so old -- and the world does not seem so dark.
[X] The Elfstone: The Elessar. The Elfstone. The Stone of Eärendil. Of all the treasures passed down from Eärendil to his son Elros, this was the fairest and most loved. It is a jewel, emerald green of the deepest forests, but it shines as is if all the light of sun and star were within. One of a set of two made by a great elf smith in an age gone by, it was given by Idril, last princess of Gondolin, to her son Eärendil the Halfelven. The Halfelven sailed his ship out of the mists of the world into the high heavens long ago, where the stories say he sails still, bearing a stone mighter by far, but when the first visitors came to the Blessed Isle from across the Western Sea, they brought the Elfstone as a gift to the new king. It's powers and supposed properties are innumerable. It is said to heal hurts, reverse decay, clear minds, lift hearts, and even to make night shine as day. It weaves in and out of the legends of the Men of the West, and like many such treasures it is hated by the Wizard -- but this one, you suspect, most of all.
Hope and Light, in an Age of Darkness.
[X] The Elfstone: The Elessar. The Elfstone. The Stone of Eärendil. Of all the treasures passed down from Eärendil to his son Elros, this was the fairest and most loved. It is a jewel, emerald green of the deepest forests, but it shines as is if all the light of sun and star were within. One of a set of two made by a great elf smith in an age gone by, it was given by Idril, last princess of Gondolin, to her son Eärendil the Halfelven. The Halfelven sailed his ship out of the mists of the world into the high heavens long ago, where the stories say he sails still, bearing a stone mighter by far, but when the first visitors came to the Blessed Isle from across the Western Sea, they brought the Elfstone as a gift to the new king. It's powers and supposed properties are innumerable. It is said to heal hurts, reverse decay, clear minds, lift hearts, and even to make night shine as day. It weaves in and out of the legends of the Men of the West, and like many such treasures it is hated by the Wizard -- but this one, you suspect, most of all.
Hope and Light, in an Age of Darkness.
[X] The White Flower: Long ago, in the land of Doriath, a daughter was born to the elvenking Thingol, more fair than mortal tongue can tell. Luthien was her name, and her beauty remains even still a thing of song. She was the fairest of all the maidens of the Elves, and the mightest in song and strength of spirit of all elves who have lived in Middle-Earth or across the sea. At the moment of her birth, small white flowers bloomed on the hills of Doriath, and did not fade until the day of her death -- a true dying, a mortal dying, and the only death an elf has ever suffered in all these long years of the sun. A pressing of one of these flowers has been passed down through the centuries to your house, who are the children of Luthien through many long years. When you hold it in your hand, the faded leaves do not seem so dim, or so flat, or so old -- and the world does not seem so dark.
[X] The Elfstone: The Elessar. The Elfstone. The Stone of Eärendil. Of all the treasures passed down from Eärendil to his son Elros, this was the fairest and most loved. It is a jewel, emerald green of the deepest forests, but it shines as is if all the light of sun and star were within. One of a set of two made by a great elf smith in an age gone by, it was given by Idril, last princess of Gondolin, to her son Eärendil the Halfelven. The Halfelven sailed his ship out of the mists of the world into the high heavens long ago, where the stories say he sails still, bearing a stone mighter by far, but when the first visitors came to the Blessed Isle from across the Western Sea, they brought the Elfstone as a gift to the new king. It's powers and supposed properties are innumerable. It is said to heal hurts, reverse decay, clear minds, lift hearts, and even to make night shine as day. It weaves in and out of the legends of the Men of the West, and like many such treasures it is hated by the Wizard -- but this one, you suspect, most of all.
[X] The Elfstone: The Elessar. The Elfstone. The Stone of Eärendil. Of all the treasures passed down from Eärendil to his son Elros, this was the fairest and most loved. It is a jewel, emerald green of the deepest forests, but it shines as is if all the light of sun and star were within. One of a set of two made by a great elf smith in an age gone by, it was given by Idril, last princess of Gondolin, to her son Eärendil the Halfelven. The Halfelven sailed his ship out of the mists of the world into the high heavens long ago, where the stories say he sails still, bearing a stone mighter by far, but when the first visitors came to the Blessed Isle from across the Western Sea, they brought the Elfstone as a gift to the new king. It's powers and supposed properties are innumerable. It is said to heal hurts, reverse decay, clear minds, lift hearts, and even to make night shine as day. It weaves in and out of the legends of the Men of the West, and like many such treasures it is hated by the Wizard -- but this one, you suspect, most of all.
[X] The White Flower: Long ago, in the land of Doriath, a daughter was born to the elvenking Thingol, more fair than mortal tongue can tell. Luthien was her name, and her beauty remains even still a thing of song. She was the fairest of all the maidens of the Elves, and the mightest in song and strength of spirit of all elves who have lived in Middle-Earth or across the sea. At the moment of her birth, small white flowers bloomed on the hills of Doriath, and did not fade until the day of her death -- a true dying, a mortal dying, and the only death an elf has ever suffered in all these long years of the sun. A pressing of one of these flowers has been passed down through the centuries to your house, who are the children of Luthien through many long years. When you hold it in your hand, the faded leaves do not seem so dim, or so flat, or so old -- and the world does not seem so dark.
[X] The Banner of Tar-Ciryatan: In the days of his glory, Tar-Ciryatan the twelfth king led the armies of the Blessed Isle against the great Enemy, Sauron of Mordor. He broke his armies at the walls of Tharbad, and afterwards expanded his dominion and his power across all the coasts of Middle Earth. This was the banner that flew above his armies and from the ramparts of his high halls when his armies were on the march: a sun and tree, all in gold, ringed with white on a field of blue. Even when the greatest of the kings of old were scorned as elffriends and fools, Tar-Ciryatan remained well loved, a battler and hero and a master over darkness. It is only with the coming of the Wizard to the courts of the king that his name has become shunned, and that his banner is no more flown in the Halls of Elros.
We are of Numenor, after all, though we remember why it was Numenor.
[X] The Banner of Tar-Ciryatan: In the days of his glory, Tar-Ciryatan the twelfth king led the armies of the Blessed Isle against the great Enemy, Sauron of Mordor. He broke his armies at the walls of Tharbad, and afterwards expanded his dominion and his power across all the coasts of Middle Earth. This was the banner that flew above his armies and from the ramparts of his high halls when his armies were on the march: a sun and tree, all in gold, ringed with white on a field of blue. Even when the greatest of the kings of old were scorned as elffriends and fools, Tar-Ciryatan remained well loved, a battler and hero and a master over darkness. It is only with the coming of the Wizard to the courts of the king that his name has become shunned, and that his banner is no more flown in the Halls of Elros.
We are of Numenor, after all, though we remember why it was Numenor.
BalerionTheDrake
Pacta sunt servanda
[X] The Banner of Tar-Ciryatan
[X] Aranrúth
Plan: Warrior Queen(i guess)
not sure how well we could do with middle men as our main allies right now. Not like we can flee the isle. Those knights would have been handy for that.
[X] Aranrúth
Plan: Warrior Queen(i guess)
not sure how well we could do with middle men as our main allies right now. Not like we can flee the isle. Those knights would have been handy for that.
- Location
- France
[X] The White Flower: Long ago, in the land of Doriath, a daughter was born to the elvenking Thingol, more fair than mortal tongue can tell. Luthien was her name, and her beauty remains even still a thing of song. She was the fairest of all the maidens of the Elves, and the mightest in song and strength of spirit of all elves who have lived in Middle-Earth or across the sea. At the moment of her birth, small white flowers bloomed on the hills of Doriath, and did not fade until the day of her death -- a true dying, a mortal dying, and the only death an elf has ever suffered in all these long years of the sun. A pressing of one of these flowers has been passed down through the centuries to your house, who are the children of Luthien through many long years. When you hold it in your hand, the faded leaves do not seem so dim, or so flat, or so old -- and the world does not seem so dark.
- Location
- Lake Wobegon
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
As one of the Faithful, our heart is drawn toward that which is elvish. Daughter of far-sighted men, we seek to preserve that which is fragile and beautiful, the like of which cannot be made again, for soon many things must perish. Reason urges us to retain those objects which Sauron abhors, because hate may be borne of fear and fear may be well founded--and because that which Sauron hates, if it is not kept from him by strength or secrecy, he eventually destroys.
[x] The White Flower: Long ago, in the land of Doriath, a daughter was born to the elvenking Thingol, more fair than mortal tongue can tell. Luthien was her name, and her beauty remains even still a thing of song. She was the fairest of all the maidens of the Elves, and the mightest in song and strength of spirit of all elves who have lived in Middle-Earth or across the sea. At the moment of her birth, small white flowers bloomed on the hills of Doriath, and did not fade until the day of her death -- a true dying, a mortal dying, and the only death an elf has ever suffered in all these long years of the sun. A pressing of one of these flowers has been passed down through the centuries to your house, who are the children of Luthien through many long years. When you hold it in your hand, the faded leaves do not seem so dim, or so flat, or so old -- and the world does not seem so dark.
[x] The Elfstone: The Elessar. The Elfstone. The Stone of Eärendil. Of all the treasures passed down from Eärendil to his son Elros, this was the fairest and most loved. It is a jewel, emerald green of the deepest forests, but it shines as is if all the light of sun and star were within. One of a set of two made by a great elf smith in an age gone by, it was given by Idril, last princess of Gondolin, to her son Eärendil the Halfelven. The Halfelven sailed his ship out of the mists of the world into the high heavens long ago, where the stories say he sails still, bearing a stone mighter by far, but when the first visitors came to the Blessed Isle from across the Western Sea, they brought the Elfstone as a gift to the new king. It's powers and supposed properties are innumerable. It is said to heal hurts, reverse decay, clear minds, lift hearts, and even to make night shine as day. It weaves in and out of the legends of the Men of the West, and like many such treasures it is hated by the Wizard -- but this one, you suspect, most of all.
[x] The White Flower: Long ago, in the land of Doriath, a daughter was born to the elvenking Thingol, more fair than mortal tongue can tell. Luthien was her name, and her beauty remains even still a thing of song. She was the fairest of all the maidens of the Elves, and the mightest in song and strength of spirit of all elves who have lived in Middle-Earth or across the sea. At the moment of her birth, small white flowers bloomed on the hills of Doriath, and did not fade until the day of her death -- a true dying, a mortal dying, and the only death an elf has ever suffered in all these long years of the sun. A pressing of one of these flowers has been passed down through the centuries to your house, who are the children of Luthien through many long years. When you hold it in your hand, the faded leaves do not seem so dim, or so flat, or so old -- and the world does not seem so dark.
[x] The Elfstone: The Elessar. The Elfstone. The Stone of Eärendil. Of all the treasures passed down from Eärendil to his son Elros, this was the fairest and most loved. It is a jewel, emerald green of the deepest forests, but it shines as is if all the light of sun and star were within. One of a set of two made by a great elf smith in an age gone by, it was given by Idril, last princess of Gondolin, to her son Eärendil the Halfelven. The Halfelven sailed his ship out of the mists of the world into the high heavens long ago, where the stories say he sails still, bearing a stone mighter by far, but when the first visitors came to the Blessed Isle from across the Western Sea, they brought the Elfstone as a gift to the new king. It's powers and supposed properties are innumerable. It is said to heal hurts, reverse decay, clear minds, lift hearts, and even to make night shine as day. It weaves in and out of the legends of the Men of the West, and like many such treasures it is hated by the Wizard -- but this one, you suspect, most of all.
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- Location
- Great Khanate of Scotland
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] The White Flower
[X] The Dragon-helm of Dor-lómin
[X] The Dragon-helm of Dor-lómin
- Location
- Lake Wobegon
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
You can pick two. Or are you still mulling your second choice?
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[x] Calmacil, The Kingsilver
[x] The Elfstone
I'm fine with the white flower as well, but I figure if we're gonna take an angle of bringing symbols of legitimacy with us, best to not put our eggs all in one basket, so to speak. Kingsilver will be an advantage for gaining the support of the dwarves, as the elfstone does for the elves.
[x] The Elfstone
I'm fine with the white flower as well, but I figure if we're gonna take an angle of bringing symbols of legitimacy with us, best to not put our eggs all in one basket, so to speak. Kingsilver will be an advantage for gaining the support of the dwarves, as the elfstone does for the elves.
Chimeraguard
We do deserve to exist.
[x] The White Flower: Long ago, in the land of Doriath, a daughter was born to the elvenking Thingol, more fair than mortal tongue can tell. Luthien was her name, and her beauty remains even still a thing of song. She was the fairest of all the maidens of the Elves, and the mightest in song and strength of spirit of all elves who have lived in Middle-Earth or across the sea. At the moment of her birth, small white flowers bloomed on the hills of Doriath, and did not fade until the day of her death -- a true dying, a mortal dying, and the only death an elf has ever suffered in all these long years of the sun. A pressing of one of these flowers has been passed down through the centuries to your house, who are the children of Luthien through many long years. When you hold it in your hand, the faded leaves do not seem so dim, or so flat, or so old -- and the world does not seem so dark.
[x] The Elfstone: The Elessar. The Elfstone. The Stone of Eärendil. Of all the treasures passed down from Eärendil to his son Elros, this was the fairest and most loved. It is a jewel, emerald green of the deepest forests, but it shines as is if all the light of sun and star were within. One of a set of two made by a great elf smith in an age gone by, it was given by Idril, last princess of Gondolin, to her son Eärendil the Halfelven. The Halfelven sailed his ship out of the mists of the world into the high heavens long ago, where the stories say he sails still, bearing a stone mighter by far, but when the first visitors came to the Blessed Isle from across the Western Sea, they brought the Elfstone as a gift to the new king. It's powers and supposed properties are innumerable. It is said to heal hurts, reverse decay, clear minds, lift hearts, and even to make night shine as day. It weaves in and out of the legends of the Men of the West, and like many such treasures it is hated by the Wizard -- but this one, you suspect, most of all.
[x] The Elfstone: The Elessar. The Elfstone. The Stone of Eärendil. Of all the treasures passed down from Eärendil to his son Elros, this was the fairest and most loved. It is a jewel, emerald green of the deepest forests, but it shines as is if all the light of sun and star were within. One of a set of two made by a great elf smith in an age gone by, it was given by Idril, last princess of Gondolin, to her son Eärendil the Halfelven. The Halfelven sailed his ship out of the mists of the world into the high heavens long ago, where the stories say he sails still, bearing a stone mighter by far, but when the first visitors came to the Blessed Isle from across the Western Sea, they brought the Elfstone as a gift to the new king. It's powers and supposed properties are innumerable. It is said to heal hurts, reverse decay, clear minds, lift hearts, and even to make night shine as day. It weaves in and out of the legends of the Men of the West, and like many such treasures it is hated by the Wizard -- but this one, you suspect, most of all.
- Location
- Somewhere in the area
- Pronouns
- He/She/They
[x] The White Flower: Long ago, in the land of Doriath, a daughter was born to the elvenking Thingol, more fair than mortal tongue can tell. Luthien was her name, and her beauty remains even still a thing of song. She was the fairest of all the maidens of the Elves, and the mightest in song and strength of spirit of all elves who have lived in Middle-Earth or across the sea. At the moment of her birth, small white flowers bloomed on the hills of Doriath, and did not fade until the day of her death -- a true dying, a mortal dying, and the only death an elf has ever suffered in all these long years of the sun. A pressing of one of these flowers has been passed down through the centuries to your house, who are the children of Luthien through many long years. When you hold it in your hand, the faded leaves do not seem so dim, or so flat, or so old -- and the world does not seem so dark.
[x] The Elfstone: The Elessar. The Elfstone. The Stone of Eärendil. Of all the treasures passed down from Eärendil to his son Elros, this was the fairest and most loved. It is a jewel, emerald green of the deepest forests, but it shines as is if all the light of sun and star were within. One of a set of two made by a great elf smith in an age gone by, it was given by Idril, last princess of Gondolin, to her son Eärendil the Halfelven. The Halfelven sailed his ship out of the mists of the world into the high heavens long ago, where the stories say he sails still, bearing a stone mighter by far, but when the first visitors came to the Blessed Isle from across the Western Sea, they brought the Elfstone as a gift to the new king. It's powers and supposed properties are innumerable. It is said to heal hurts, reverse decay, clear minds, lift hearts, and even to make night shine as day. It weaves in and out of the legends of the Men of the West, and like many such treasures it is hated by the Wizard -- but this one, you suspect, most of all.
[x] The Elfstone: The Elessar. The Elfstone. The Stone of Eärendil. Of all the treasures passed down from Eärendil to his son Elros, this was the fairest and most loved. It is a jewel, emerald green of the deepest forests, but it shines as is if all the light of sun and star were within. One of a set of two made by a great elf smith in an age gone by, it was given by Idril, last princess of Gondolin, to her son Eärendil the Halfelven. The Halfelven sailed his ship out of the mists of the world into the high heavens long ago, where the stories say he sails still, bearing a stone mighter by far, but when the first visitors came to the Blessed Isle from across the Western Sea, they brought the Elfstone as a gift to the new king. It's powers and supposed properties are innumerable. It is said to heal hurts, reverse decay, clear minds, lift hearts, and even to make night shine as day. It weaves in and out of the legends of the Men of the West, and like many such treasures it is hated by the Wizard -- but this one, you suspect, most of all.
[X] The White Flower: Long ago, in the land of Doriath, a daughter was born to the elvenking Thingol, more fair than mortal tongue can tell. Luthien was her name, and her beauty remains even still a thing of song. She was the fairest of all the maidens of the Elves, and the mightest in song and strength of spirit of all elves who have lived in Middle-Earth or across the sea. At the moment of her birth, small white flowers bloomed on the hills of Doriath, and did not fade until the day of her death -- a true dying, a mortal dying, and the only death an elf has ever suffered in all these long years of the sun. A pressing of one of these flowers has been passed down through the centuries to your house, who are the children of Luthien through many long years. When you hold it in your hand, the faded leaves do not seem so dim, or so flat, or so old -- and the world does not seem so dark.
[X] The Banner of Tar-Ciryatan: In the days of his glory, Tar-Ciryatan the twelfth king led the armies of the Blessed Isle against the great Enemy, Sauron of Mordor. He broke his armies at the walls of Tharbad, and afterwards expanded his dominion and his power across all the coasts of Middle Earth. This was the banner that flew above his armies and from the ramparts of his high halls when his armies were on the march: a sun and tree, all in gold, ringed with white on a field of blue. Even when the greatest of the kings of old were scorned as elffriends and fools, Tar-Ciryatan remained well loved, a battler and hero and a master over darkness. It is only with the coming of the Wizard to the courts of the king that his name has become shunned, and that his banner is no more flown in the Halls of Elros.
[X] The Banner of Tar-Ciryatan: In the days of his glory, Tar-Ciryatan the twelfth king led the armies of the Blessed Isle against the great Enemy, Sauron of Mordor. He broke his armies at the walls of Tharbad, and afterwards expanded his dominion and his power across all the coasts of Middle Earth. This was the banner that flew above his armies and from the ramparts of his high halls when his armies were on the march: a sun and tree, all in gold, ringed with white on a field of blue. Even when the greatest of the kings of old were scorned as elffriends and fools, Tar-Ciryatan remained well loved, a battler and hero and a master over darkness. It is only with the coming of the Wizard to the courts of the king that his name has become shunned, and that his banner is no more flown in the Halls of Elros.
All of these are wonderful heirlooms and treasures. It's difficult then to only pick two. The Elfstone feels so important that if we leave it behind it will surely be destroyed.
The White Flower doesn't grab my attention as much as the elven made artifacts or ones that link us to our past. If we do successfully flee Numenor, what we take with us to the colonies will be a powerful symbol. It will be key to any future successor kingdom and our legacy against. We are friends of the elves, but we must not forget our connection to the men of middle earth too. Honestly the bow and scabbard are really tempting picks because of that. It's a tough decision.
Taking the scabbard will help solidify our position in the colonies, again should we survive and flee. The elves, dwarves, and tall men will know us as queen.... but that bow. It's a simple weapon that represents not Numenoreans, but our ancestors fight against Sauron and ties with the elves. It was this service and alliance that saw men blessed in the first place. It also reminds us that as proud as we are, Numenoreans came from Middle Earth, and share ancestry with the Middle Men.
So with that in mind, I'm going with the bow. Let it remind Numenorean refugees and settlers that their ancestors were but humble men that fought Sauron.
[X] The Bow of Bregor: A thousand years ago and twice more again, and a thousand more still, the first Men came across the Blue Mountains into Beleriand. There they entered into the service of the elves in their long war against their terrible Enemy. The first men to come were the House of Beor, and they were settled in a land called Ladros. In the days of the wars in Beleriand, Bregor son of Boromir was Lord of Ladros. Of him and his line are all the heroes of all the songs: Beren and Húrin, Túrin and Tuor, the great Men who braved death and darkness alike, who battled and slew dragons, who dared even the iron hells of Morgoth, who fought and loved elves, and from whom are descended the Númenóreans and their kings. It is Bregor and his heirs who earned Númenor, Bregor and his heirs whose heroism even in the blackest of hours won Men their Gift. There is not a child on the isle who has not been raised on these stories, and there is not a man or woman grown who does not love them in their heart, and it is for this that the Bow is loved, though it has not been fired in anger for lifetimes uncounted: it is a living link to the great stories.
[X] The Elfstone: The Elessar. The Elfstone. The Stone of Eärendil. Of all the treasures passed down from Eärendil to his son Elros, this was the fairest and most loved. It is a jewel, emerald green of the deepest forests, but it shines as is if all the light of sun and star were within. One of a set of two made by a great elf smith in an age gone by, it was given by Idril, last princess of Gondolin, to her son Eärendil the Halfelven. The Halfelven sailed his ship out of the mists of the world into the high heavens long ago, where the stories say he sails still, bearing a stone mighter by far, but when the first visitors came to the Blessed Isle from across the Western Sea, they brought the Elfstone as a gift to the new king. It's powers and supposed properties are innumerable. It is said to heal hurts, reverse decay, clear minds, lift hearts, and even to make night shine as day. It weaves in and out of the legends of the Men of the West, and like many such treasures it is hated by the Wizard -- but this one, you suspect, most of all.
The White Flower doesn't grab my attention as much as the elven made artifacts or ones that link us to our past. If we do successfully flee Numenor, what we take with us to the colonies will be a powerful symbol. It will be key to any future successor kingdom and our legacy against. We are friends of the elves, but we must not forget our connection to the men of middle earth too. Honestly the bow and scabbard are really tempting picks because of that. It's a tough decision.
Taking the scabbard will help solidify our position in the colonies, again should we survive and flee. The elves, dwarves, and tall men will know us as queen.... but that bow. It's a simple weapon that represents not Numenoreans, but our ancestors fight against Sauron and ties with the elves. It was this service and alliance that saw men blessed in the first place. It also reminds us that as proud as we are, Numenoreans came from Middle Earth, and share ancestry with the Middle Men.
So with that in mind, I'm going with the bow. Let it remind Numenorean refugees and settlers that their ancestors were but humble men that fought Sauron.
[X] The Bow of Bregor: A thousand years ago and twice more again, and a thousand more still, the first Men came across the Blue Mountains into Beleriand. There they entered into the service of the elves in their long war against their terrible Enemy. The first men to come were the House of Beor, and they were settled in a land called Ladros. In the days of the wars in Beleriand, Bregor son of Boromir was Lord of Ladros. Of him and his line are all the heroes of all the songs: Beren and Húrin, Túrin and Tuor, the great Men who braved death and darkness alike, who battled and slew dragons, who dared even the iron hells of Morgoth, who fought and loved elves, and from whom are descended the Númenóreans and their kings. It is Bregor and his heirs who earned Númenor, Bregor and his heirs whose heroism even in the blackest of hours won Men their Gift. There is not a child on the isle who has not been raised on these stories, and there is not a man or woman grown who does not love them in their heart, and it is for this that the Bow is loved, though it has not been fired in anger for lifetimes uncounted: it is a living link to the great stories.
[X] The Elfstone: The Elessar. The Elfstone. The Stone of Eärendil. Of all the treasures passed down from Eärendil to his son Elros, this was the fairest and most loved. It is a jewel, emerald green of the deepest forests, but it shines as is if all the light of sun and star were within. One of a set of two made by a great elf smith in an age gone by, it was given by Idril, last princess of Gondolin, to her son Eärendil the Halfelven. The Halfelven sailed his ship out of the mists of the world into the high heavens long ago, where the stories say he sails still, bearing a stone mighter by far, but when the first visitors came to the Blessed Isle from across the Western Sea, they brought the Elfstone as a gift to the new king. It's powers and supposed properties are innumerable. It is said to heal hurts, reverse decay, clear minds, lift hearts, and even to make night shine as day. It weaves in and out of the legends of the Men of the West, and like many such treasures it is hated by the Wizard -- but this one, you suspect, most of all.
- Location
- Sweden
Well reasoned @Fission Battery 
[X] The Bow of Bregor: A thousand years ago and twice more again, and a thousand more still, the first Men came across the Blue Mountains into Beleriand. There they entered into the service of the elves in their long war against their terrible Enemy. The first men to come were the House of Beor, and they were settled in a land called Ladros. In the days of the wars in Beleriand, Bregor son of Boromir was Lord of Ladros. Of him and his line are all the heroes of all the songs: Beren and Húrin, Túrin and Tuor, the great Men who braved death and darkness alike, who battled and slew dragons, who dared even the iron hells of Morgoth, who fought and loved elves, and from whom are descended the Númenóreans and their kings. It is Bregor and his heirs who earned Númenor, Bregor and his heirs whose heroism even in the blackest of hours won Men their Gift. There is not a child on the isle who has not been raised on these stories, and there is not a man or woman grown who does not love them in their heart, and it is for this that the Bow is loved, though it has not been fired in anger for lifetimes uncounted: it is a living link to the great stories.
[X] The Elfstone: The Elessar. The Elfstone. The Stone of Eärendil. Of all the treasures passed down from Eärendil to his son Elros, this was the fairest and most loved. It is a jewel, emerald green of the deepest forests, but it shines as is if all the light of sun and star were within. One of a set of two made by a great elf smith in an age gone by, it was given by Idril, last princess of Gondolin, to her son Eärendil the Halfelven. The Halfelven sailed his ship out of the mists of the world into the high heavens long ago, where the stories say he sails still, bearing a stone mighter by far, but when the first visitors came to the Blessed Isle from across the Western Sea, they brought the Elfstone as a gift to the new king. It's powers and supposed properties are innumerable. It is said to heal hurts, reverse decay, clear minds, lift hearts, and even to make night shine as day. It weaves in and out of the legends of the Men of the West, and like many such treasures it is hated by the Wizard -- but this one, you suspect, most of all.
[X] The Bow of Bregor: A thousand years ago and twice more again, and a thousand more still, the first Men came across the Blue Mountains into Beleriand. There they entered into the service of the elves in their long war against their terrible Enemy. The first men to come were the House of Beor, and they were settled in a land called Ladros. In the days of the wars in Beleriand, Bregor son of Boromir was Lord of Ladros. Of him and his line are all the heroes of all the songs: Beren and Húrin, Túrin and Tuor, the great Men who braved death and darkness alike, who battled and slew dragons, who dared even the iron hells of Morgoth, who fought and loved elves, and from whom are descended the Númenóreans and their kings. It is Bregor and his heirs who earned Númenor, Bregor and his heirs whose heroism even in the blackest of hours won Men their Gift. There is not a child on the isle who has not been raised on these stories, and there is not a man or woman grown who does not love them in their heart, and it is for this that the Bow is loved, though it has not been fired in anger for lifetimes uncounted: it is a living link to the great stories.
[X] The Elfstone: The Elessar. The Elfstone. The Stone of Eärendil. Of all the treasures passed down from Eärendil to his son Elros, this was the fairest and most loved. It is a jewel, emerald green of the deepest forests, but it shines as is if all the light of sun and star were within. One of a set of two made by a great elf smith in an age gone by, it was given by Idril, last princess of Gondolin, to her son Eärendil the Halfelven. The Halfelven sailed his ship out of the mists of the world into the high heavens long ago, where the stories say he sails still, bearing a stone mighter by far, but when the first visitors came to the Blessed Isle from across the Western Sea, they brought the Elfstone as a gift to the new king. It's powers and supposed properties are innumerable. It is said to heal hurts, reverse decay, clear minds, lift hearts, and even to make night shine as day. It weaves in and out of the legends of the Men of the West, and like many such treasures it is hated by the Wizard -- but this one, you suspect, most of all.
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
[X] Calmacil, The Kingsilver
[X] The Elfstone
Approval vote:
[X] The Bow of Bregor
[X] The Elfstone
Approval vote:
[X] The Bow of Bregor
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[X] The White Flower
[X] The Elfstone
The reason for the white flower is that it is far more valuable than any storied heirloom if it can push back the darkness for the days are truly dark in Numenor, and more of the people of Numenor fall under the sway of Sauron.
Perhaps through the power within the Elfstone new flowers might grow upon the graves* of future rulers of men be they Numenorean, or Middle Men, and in doing so succeed push back the shadow that long predates the creation of the blessed isle much less the arrival of Sauron upon it.
*In Lord of the Rings white flowers growing upon various graves is a reoccurring theme.
[X] The Elfstone
The reason for the white flower is that it is far more valuable than any storied heirloom if it can push back the darkness for the days are truly dark in Numenor, and more of the people of Numenor fall under the sway of Sauron.
Perhaps through the power within the Elfstone new flowers might grow upon the graves* of future rulers of men be they Numenorean, or Middle Men, and in doing so succeed push back the shadow that long predates the creation of the blessed isle much less the arrival of Sauron upon it.
*In Lord of the Rings white flowers growing upon various graves is a reoccurring theme.
- Location
- E-Girl Deseret
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] The Bow of Bregor: A thousand years ago and twice more again, and a thousand more still, the first Men came across the Blue Mountains into Beleriand. There they entered into the service of the elves in their long war against their terrible Enemy. The first men to come were the House of Beor, and they were settled in a land called Ladros. In the days of the wars in Beleriand, Bregor son of Boromir was Lord of Ladros. Of him and his line are all the heroes of all the songs: Beren and Húrin, Túrin and Tuor, the great Men who braved death and darkness alike, who battled and slew dragons, who dared even the iron hells of Morgoth, who fought and loved elves, and from whom are descended the Númenóreans and their kings. It is Bregor and his heirs who earned Númenor, Bregor and his heirs whose heroism even in the blackest of hours won Men their Gift. There is not a child on the isle who has not been raised on these stories, and there is not a man or woman grown who does not love them in their heart, and it is for this that the Bow is loved, though it has not been fired in anger for lifetimes uncounted: it is a living link to the great stories.
[X] The Elfstone: The Elessar. The Elfstone. The Stone of Eärendil. Of all the treasures passed down from Eärendil to his son Elros, this was the fairest and most loved. It is a jewel, emerald green of the deepest forests, but it shines as is if all the light of sun and star were within. One of a set of two made by a great elf smith in an age gone by, it was given by Idril, last princess of Gondolin, to her son Eärendil the Halfelven. The Halfelven sailed his ship out of the mists of the world into the high heavens long ago, where the stories say he sails still, bearing a stone mighter by far, but when the first visitors came to the Blessed Isle from across the Western Sea, they brought the Elfstone as a gift to the new king. It's powers and supposed properties are innumerable. It is said to heal hurts, reverse decay, clear minds, lift hearts, and even to make night shine as day. It weaves in and out of the legends of the Men of the West, and like many such treasures it is hated by the Wizard -- but this one, you suspect, most of all.
I'm convinced by Fisson's arguments.
[X] The Elfstone: The Elessar. The Elfstone. The Stone of Eärendil. Of all the treasures passed down from Eärendil to his son Elros, this was the fairest and most loved. It is a jewel, emerald green of the deepest forests, but it shines as is if all the light of sun and star were within. One of a set of two made by a great elf smith in an age gone by, it was given by Idril, last princess of Gondolin, to her son Eärendil the Halfelven. The Halfelven sailed his ship out of the mists of the world into the high heavens long ago, where the stories say he sails still, bearing a stone mighter by far, but when the first visitors came to the Blessed Isle from across the Western Sea, they brought the Elfstone as a gift to the new king. It's powers and supposed properties are innumerable. It is said to heal hurts, reverse decay, clear minds, lift hearts, and even to make night shine as day. It weaves in and out of the legends of the Men of the West, and like many such treasures it is hated by the Wizard -- but this one, you suspect, most of all.
I'm convinced by Fisson's arguments.