Tarondor
A horse. Tarondor could hardly believe it. His father, the mighty King Tarcil, brought down by the very creature he loved most, more than his eldest son even. The irony of it was so incredible, Tarondor almost felt like laughing.
It had been two days since Tarondor had returned to Annúminas and five since his father had died. Immediately after he had been informed by Amroth, Tarondor had sent ravens across the kingdom, summoning the Council of the Sceptre, a gathering of the great lords of Arnor and the King's Advisors and Ministers for his coronation. The full gathering would take time to assemble, but the smaller full-time council members had already met and were currently speaking with him.
"Your Majesty, with your father dying prematurely, the custom has been broken. By tradition, your father would have abdicated the throne to you and he would have been the one to give you the Oath and crown jewels at the coronation," spoke one of his father's advisors
"And what, do my earnest advisors advise me to do?" Tarondor asked with a cold politeness.
"In the absence of His Late Majesty, the task should fall to your oldest and closest male relative. With no uncles… that would well, that would be your brother," the advisor answered.
"My brother? You would ask me to have my younger brother crown me?" Tarondor demanded, driving in his point with each and every word. "Leave me. All of you. I need time to consider my decision."
Miriel had turned to him once they had left. "That was ill done Tarondor. You cannot afford to alienate all of your advisors. They seek only what is best for Arnor."
"They seek only what is best for themselves. Their purpose has been and always will be, to advise and not to command their king. It is my will to decide who should crown me, not theirs. They forget their place," Tarondor retorted
"Having your brother crown you, is the wisest decision. It would dispel any rumours of him seeking to usurp you."
"You truly believe he does not wish to usurp me?" Tarondor asked, slightly shocked. How could she not be worried when his brother represented a potential threat to his rule?
"You were not in the city when your father died Tarondor. Had he truly wished it, it would have been the perfect time for him to seize power, but he didn't. That alone proves to me that your brother does not desire the throne. I have always known he did not want it, and, somewhere deep down, you knew it too" Miriel answered.
Looking hesitant, she continued, knowing she was treading on dangerous waters," It is not too late for you to reconcile with your brother Tarondor. Your father is lost to you, and I know you, know that deep down you regret not reaching out to him. Do not hold on to your anger and hurt. Let it go or you will lose Amroth forever."
Tarondor could only sit on his throne, deep in his thoughts, as Miriel walked out. Leaving him alone in the room.
A few hours later he stood outside his brother's door, the guards already dismissed with his kingly authority. The rest of the castle had gone to sleep already. This was a private conversation between brothers.
He took a deep breath, steeling his resolve, before knocking on the door. There was no answer. He knocked a further three times before giving up. Clearly Amroth did not wish to speak with him. As he walked away though, he heard the door opening. Had he been ignoring me on purpose!?
"You know, you really should knock harder. I could barely hear you. So, why are you dragging me away from my place beside my wonderful wife? Amroth asked, amused.
Supressing his annoyance, Tarondor replied, "I couldn't sleep. Walk with me brother. Your king commands you. Worry not about your lovely wife, the guards will return once we have left."
As his brother walked in step with him, Tarondor knew not how to feel. He was only here due to Miriel's nagging. That woman! She had refused to let him sleep until he had gone to speak with Amroth and had disturbed all his attempts.
It was strange to walk with his brother like this. Strange but nice in a weird way. A long time ago, Amroth had followed him everywhere, toddling after him wherever he went. When was it, that we had started drifting apart I wonder? I've always thought it was when Mother died, but now I'm not so sure. We had grown distant long before then.
Tarondor had started spending more and more time in the harbour or out at sea, and Amroth had started following their father to the stables, enamoured with horses. Before Tarondor knew it, the brother who had once followed him everywhere was gone and a stranger stood in his place.
Tarondor barely knew anything about his brother now. He of course knew of his love for horses, but he did not know anything else. What were his brother's likes? His dislikes? What were his passions and hobbies? He was a bit ashamed to admit he did not know.
Amroth said nothing for their whole walk, and soon they had reached the Court of the Fountain. The White Tree was in full bloom, its silver bark and leaves glowing under the light of the full moon. It was a breath taking sight. Tarondor had never tired of looking upon the tree's beauty.
"Do you remember Amroth? When we were boys, Mother would take us here and tell us of the White Tree's history."
"I remember," Amroth answered. Staring at the tree reminiscently, the gaze in his eyes reminding Tarondor of a curious, innocent child.
"Remember when we raced each other to see who could climb the tree faster? Mother was so horrified and…"
"Father was amused," Amroth finished for him.
"Who won in the end? I can't remember," Tarondor asked, having long forgotten the specifics of that incident.
"Neither of us. The Fountain Guards had pulled us down before we could even get halfway up. And then they frogmarched us to Father," Amroth replied, laughing.
"What would she think of us I wonder?" Tarondor asked, "Her two sons strangers to the other?"
Amroth didn't answer. For a while, the two brothers just stood there. Watching the cooling night wind gently rustle the silver leaves. Both of them absorbed in the memory of better times, both too afraid to say something and ruin the moment.
"You don't trust me, do you?" Amroth asked.
Cutting off Tarondor's attempt to answer, Amroth continued, "I heard about your decision. Your refusal to have me crown you."
"I didn't refuse," Tarondor retorted defensively.
"But you didn't accept either!" Amroth shot back bitterly. It's alright, like you said. We're strangers to each other. I already know what your decision will be," He said as he turned to walk away.
"Amroth!" Tarondor called out angrily.
His brother turned back. In the moonlight, Tarondor noticed his eyes were red. He's been crying, he realised. His face softened, "You're right. I don't trust you. I'm sorry. Years of hearing rumours about your father seeking to supplant you would do that to you."
"Those rumours are filthy lies!" Amroth shouted vehemently, "Father loved you, he loved you so much! He just didn't know how to show it."
"I don't want your throne Brother," Amroth looked down.
"I know."
Amroth looked up, "Then why? Why can't you-"
"We are strangers Amroth. I can't trust you now… but maybe, maybe I can put my trust in you one day."
Turning to look back at the tree, Tarondor asked, "What do you say to climbing the tree?"
"Seriously? We aren't boys anymore," Amroth questioned, flabbergasted.
"All the more reason to do so now. We have a lot of lost time to make up for."
"Where are the guards anyway? Should they be arrested for dereliction of duty?
"No. I dismissed them."
A short while later, the two brother were seated on the branches of the White Tree, staring up at the Moon high above, stars unnumbered shone beside it, eclipsed entirely by its beauty.
"I'm sorry. About everything," Tarondor said.
"I'm sorry too brother."
"I can't trust you Amroth, but I think I could, if we spent more time together like this."
"Alright then, do you already have our first 'brotherly bonding activity' planned out? What are we doing? Sailing? Killing pirates? Building a ship? All things I hear you love," Amroth drawled out sarcastically.
"Yes actually, and no it is not any of those," Tarondor answered, offended. "We are going after the horse that killed Father."
Laughing, Amroth answered, "Ah, my brother likes to jest. Who knew?"
Seeing Tarondor's unamused face however, Amroth had to supress his shock. "Wait you're serious? How would we even find the horse?"
"Simple. We have a few spare palantiri. We take one of those."
"You are seriously going to use a palantir to track down a horse?"
"I'm completely serious Amroth. I will have my revenge on whatever dared to take our father away from us before his time."
"Father wouldn't want you to kill the horse."
"Fear not my horse-loving brother," Tarondor said, smirking. "I have something else in mind."
Amroth
Two months. It had been two bloody months since they had set out on this trip, searching high and low. They had been communicating with Annúminas with the palantiri, coordinating the planning for the coronation. By now the invitations to the coronation had been sent and all of Arnor knew that the old king's sons were out chasing his murderer. A horse.
Oh the embarrassment! Amroth could only imagine the glee of the gossiping courtiers as they whispered to each other.
The horse in question had eluded them on countless occasions. Slipping out of their fingers at the last moment. It was getting quite frustrating and they had had to postpone the coronation twice already. The lords were getting annoyed and his brother's wife, Miriel, had made it quite clear that they could not afford to postpone it a third time.
Over the course of the past two months, Amroth had felt the walls between him and his brother slowly crumble and now he felt confident enough to say he knew his brother. Yet, he still felt nervous. Tarondor had not made his decision on who was to crown him and the Council had chosen Lord Celosien, their father's chief councillor to do so. Tarondor had not countermanded this decision.
Amroth had wanted to do it. To prove his loyalty. But something had stopped him from asking his brother to choose him. It was not his place.
"There!" Amroth heard one of their guards saying. Following his pointed finger, Amroth tracked it to the horse that killed his father. A magnificent black stallion. With broad shoulders and long powerful legs.
"Finally,"Tarondor said as he moved forward. "Everybody stay back. The horse is mine."
Amroth wondered what his brother would do to the horse. He had refused to tell him. Nevertheless, he signalled their men to form a half circle to keep the beast pinned against the cliff it was grazing in front of.
Nervously he watched his brother approach the horse. In his mind's eye he could see his father attempting the same before being kicked in the head and dying. Amroth knew, even if he wouldn't admit it, that he would kill the horse if he lost another family member to it. He loved horses but his family was more important to him.
In anticipation he awaited his brother's next move. Would he impale its shoulder with the spear in his hand? Or draw his sword to slay the beast? Amroth knew his brother might be overcome with rage and seek to kill the beast so he was surprised along with everyone else when they saw what happened next.
"Horse! Thou has stolen my sire from me! For this grievance, thou shalt lay down thy freedom and serve me evermore as wergild!" His brother cried in a terrifying and intimidating voice.
For a while, nothing happened. Amroth actually looked to his brother, an incredulous look on his face. This was a horse. Did he actually believe it would do as he said? He readied himself in case the horse attacked his brother.
To his immense shock, and the shock of all their companions no doubt, the horse bent its forward knees and laid its head down in a show of obeisance to his brother.
"You are a fine beast, you shall be named Durmôr," his brother declared as he mounted the horse.
Dark black? Seriously brother? Of all the names to choose, you went with that?
A few days later, they rode into Annúminas to the cheers of the crowds, his brother mounted on Durmôr. And just in time as well, for the coronation was to be that afternoon.
Now a great crowd had gathered in the Court of the Fountain. On the steps of the Tower Hall, his brother was dressed in his kingly attire, ready to be crowned.
The sight made him proud of his brother. Almost proud enough to swallow his disappointment at seeing Lord Celosien with the Crown Jewels.
"Wait Lord Celosien, you are a great and honourable Lord and I have only the greatest respect for you, but many months ago, you told me that it should be my brother who crowns me and now I would heed your advice."
Amroth couldn't believe hear his brother's words, but they made him happy. The crowd looked confused as well. Despite his disbelief however, he would move forward without thinking when his brother turned his head to him and beckoned him to come.
He walked up the steps to where Lord Celosien was standing. He did not look at all disappointed at losing the honour of crowning the king.
"Your father would be very proud of both of you," he said with a smile.
Mustering his resolve. Amroth took the first of the Crown Jewels, the Ring of BArahir.
"Is Your Majesty willing to swear the King's Oath?" he asked, having memorised the lines.
"I am willing."
"Then, Tarondor, son of Tarcil, kneel."
His brother obeyed.
"Do you promise to govern the peoples of the Kingdom of Arnor, the Dúnedain, the Casterrim, the Children of the Forest, and the Giants to the best of your ability? Will you to your power cause law and justice, in mercy, to be executed in all your judgements?"
"I do solemnly promise."
"Then take thee, the Ring of Barahir, the symbol of your right to rule, given by Eru, to lead and govern our people. May he grant you the wisdom in all your decisions" Amroth said as he slid the ring onto his brother right ring finger.
"Do you swear to serve your people and your kingdom for the good of all? To protect their rights? To defend and protect them and to never abuse your power over them?"
"I do solemnly swear."
"Then take thee, the Elendilmir, the symbol of your duty to your people. Whenever you feel its weight upon your neck, remember your duty to protect your people," Amroth declared as he hung the Star of Elendil on his brother's neck.
"Do you solemnly promise to uphold the Laws of Eru? To do all in your power to preserve and protect the Faith of Eru and the Veneration of the Seven Maiar?"
"I do solemnly swear."
"Then take thee, the Winged Crown of Arnor, the symbol of your majesty and a reminder of your duty as the representative of Eru and his supreme viceroy on this earth," Amroth announced as he placed the crown on his brother's head.
Finally, they had reached the conclusion of the oath.
In a solemn and serious voice, Tarondor proclaimed, "With Eru as my witness, I do solemnly swear to keep the oath I have sworn and to uphold the promises I have made. May doom fall upon me should I speak falsely."
"Tarondor, son of Tarcil, thou hast sworn a holy vow to fulfil thy oath and thy promises, and Eru has deemed you to speak truly. Take thee the Sceptre of Annúminas, the symbol of your authority as king. Let this be the last time you kneel before any other man," Amroth answered as he placed the Sceptre in Tarondor's hands.
"By the Grace of Eru, I now proclaim you High King of Arnor and the Dúnedain, the Casterrim, and the Orodondrim. Defender of the Tawarwaith, Protector of the Realm, and Lord of Annúminas."
"Arise my king. Arise King Tarondor," Amroth finished.
With the oath concluded, Tarondor rose and marched up the steps before turning to face the crowd. Amroth went down the steps and turned to face his king.
In a loud voice he cried, "The King stands before us! Long may he reign!"
As one, the crowds shouted, "Long live the King!"
Then all gathered would kneel before their king.