Annuminas was the final riddle, a city Atanatar the Glorious would have envied hidden in the heart of a Dark haunted forest, beautiful and untouched by time. But nobody lived there, the houses were filled with Dunedain, a tall swarthy Easterling folk, stocky brown haired 'Runedain' like the Ranger Beomann, not to mention Halflings, Elves and Dwarves in some numbers, but there were no shops, no taverns, no workshops. All these folk were but visitors come to see the King. Annuminas had been abandoned, just like ruined Tarcilion, but why?
Hirgon was brooding over the mystery in front of a grand but empty guild hall when he saw the King pass by, with the Queen beside him and the little Princess in his arms but no other attendants. Scarcely able to believe his eyes Hirgon followed at a discreet distance, watching Elessar and Undomiel stop to chat with passers-by who seemed astonishingly unperturbed at having their King come among them in such an informal way.
Hirgon remembered that Elessar had once tried walking though the lower circles of Minas Tirith during the rebuilding - to the agonized embarrassment and dismay of his new subjects. The Northerners however seemed to take it as a matter of course, and for the first time Hirgon understood why the King had done such an unaccountable thing - he had simply been following the practice and custom of his Northern realm. And it had never until that moment occured to Hirgon, or he suspected any other Gondorim, that the Northern Kings might have traditions of their own, very different from those of Gondor.
A surprising number of his people seemed to be personally acquainted with the King, and all treated him with the same easy familiarity as his Rangers did back in Gondor. The Dunedain among them, and the tall dark Easterling folk, showed an especial delight in the little Princess.
Once Hirgon chanced to be close enough to hear what a Man in Ranger leathers was saying to the King, in the usual low pitched voice Ranger voice, as he chucked Princess Silmarien under the chin.
"At last someone to carry on the Line! And high time too, Dundadan."
"So I have been told, repeatedly." the King answered drily.
"It's not *my* fault." the Queen said primly, and the Man grinned at her.
"No indeed, my Lady!" a sly, sidelong glance at Elessar. "We know very well who is to blame."
The King heaved a sigh. "And I will be hearing about it, from my people as well as my wife and kin, for the rest of my life."
"Even Kings must pay the price of their follies." the Ranger answered lightly, shocking Hirgon to the core, but Elessar just laughed.
"I've been told that more than once as well." **** Innocent of the ways of courts Barliman Butterbur saw nothing odd in the King of the West paying a call on his subjects, and if he was a bit nervous and overawed at first the feeling quickly passed.
For all his grand clothes the King was still recognizably the Strider Barliman'd known all of his life - Only better humored and more approachable, as all the Rangers had become since the War now that they didn't have to worry about keeping their secrets anymore.
After greetings and introductions the official delegation from Bree settled themselves on the gallery overlooking the canal to share a convivial pipe with their King who started the conversation by assuring them there would be no trouble at all about confirming their charter.
"I'm fond of Bree myself," he said. "and don't want to see it change. Except for the better if that's possible."
"Gandalf said you'd feel like that about it." Barliman remembered. "And I think I speak for us all when I say it's a great relief to us to have a King who knows our ways."
Hearfelt nods of agreement all along the row of Breelanders.
"Thank you." said the King "I hope to give satisfaction to all my peoples here in the North."
"By the by, sir," from old Gummidge of Staddle, "just what is your proper name? Some say Aragorn and others say Elessar and I can't seem to get the right of it."
"It's both." the King answered readily. "It's the custom of my family to give two names; one for everyday and one, in the old High Elven language, for best. Aragorn is the first and Elessar the second." he smiled at them. "I have also taken the surname 'Telcontar' which means 'Strider' in the Elven tongue for myself and my House."
"Oh." was all Barliman could think of to say.
"I'm afraid it wasn't meant as a compliment when we called you that, sir." Ted Tunnelly admitted.
"I know." said the King. "But I find I've become rather fond of the name over the years."
Barliman took a deep breath. He'd said it to Gil and to Belegon, and he should say it to Strider - to King Aragorn Elessar - too. "We Breelanders are right sorry about the way we've acted towards you and the other Rangers over the years, sir. Believe me we wouldn't have treated you so badly had we no known the truth. And we hope there are hard feelings."
"None at all." answered the King firmly. "We wanted your folk to think us rogues and vagabonds - for our safety, as well as yours. I won't say your scorn didn't sting sometimes, but we never blamed you for it."
Which was exactly what Gil and Belegon had said. No doubt it was true, and made Breelanders feel a bit better. But it didn't change their determination to make up for their former bad behavior in way that they could. ****
There was no formal procession of recognition as there had been for Elessar's coronation in Minas Tirith. The morning of the day set for his ensceptering his people gathered expectantly in the great terraced square before the palace, and at the windows, balconies and even on the roofs of the buildings overlooking it.
The delegation from Bree had a place reserved for them near the front where they'd have a good view of the proceedings and the Butterburs had just settled in their places when Beomann came out of the palace by a small side door to join them.
He was almost unrecognizable in a splendid black surcoat embroidered with stars and a broken sword in silver thread over a pale grey tunic bordered with more embroidery in silver and black.
"Is that real silk?" Peg demanded, feeling the sleeve.
"Probably, I didn't ask." her brother answered. Then to his parents. "Won't be long now."
A fanfare of trumpets proved him right. The great golden doors of the palace swung open and two files of guardsmen armed with spears and clad in black surcoats embroidered with crowns, stars and trees over silvered mail, trooped out to the music of invisible trumpets and flutes, and lined the steps down from the doors. A moment later another line of Men emerged, six of them one after the other, four in black surcoats, one in white and one in green, each carrying banner that matched the device on his coat. They descended the stair to stand, three to a side, at its foot.
"Those are the banners of of the Royal Family." Beomann explained to his kin.
The music swelled in a second fanfare and a tall, sleander lady in a wonderful gown of black and gold on the arm of an even taller swarthy Man in scarlet and black came out the door and down the steps to stand beneath a black banner ensigned with a golden eagle and silver stars.
"Oh look at that *dress*!" Peg whispered excitedly.
Beomann smiled at her. "You haven't seen anything yet."
A second even taller lady, in black and green under a magnificent mantle of gold cloth brocaded with eagles and suns emerged next, between a pair of even taller Men, as alike as two peas, both dressed in blue and black all encrusted with gold. They joined the others under the eagle banner.
"That's Lady Beruthiel, the King's cousin, and her children." Beomann told his family.
The rest of the Royal Family followed in ones, twos and threes: First a pair of young girls holding hands and pretty as flowers in their gowns of pale green and white. Then two Men, not much older, in black and white glittering with silver embroidery. And finally a lady in a green and silver gown beneath a black and silver mantle. All took their places under a black banner ensigned with a small star and a large white flower.
"That's Belegon's sister Lady Angwen and her family." said Beomann.
Belegon himself was next, looking taller than ever in his long robes of green and gold and trailing black velvet mantle. With his golden lady all in shining white on his arm and his little boy, dressed like his father, by the hand. They went under a black banner with a bow and quiver and a star.
A lady, not quite so tall, and all in dark green glittering with gold and silver and red jewels came out alone and took her place under the green banner with its white and silver tree and stars.
"And that's Belegon's mother, Lady Region." said Beomann.
Then came Aranel, who the Butterburs had known as Lightfoot, dazzling in a silver gown, holding her son by one hand and her daughter by the other, both dressed entirely in white. Theirs was the white banner with its black sword surrounded by stars.
And finally her brother Gilvagor, as grand as she in black and grey and silver, took his place to the right of the steps under a black banner ensigned with stars and a broken sword.
There was another fanfare and the King and Queen appeared, hand in hand. She sparkling in white robes covered with crystals of adamant, and he all in black velvet girded with silver beneath a glistening white mantle. Both wore a large white jewel set like a star upon on their brow. They descended the steps to the first terrace, bowed and curtseyed to the crowd, who bowed and curtseyed in return, then turned to face the still open door.
Lady Ellian came out, her night blue surcoat and mantle powdered with glittering stars, with a collar of adamant stones around her neck and another upon a thin fillet above her her brow. On either side of her was a tall Elven lord, each the mirror of the other even to his robes of grey, violet and silver and the the great metal casket in his hands.
"Those are the Queen's brothers, Elladan and Elrohir." Beomann whispered because the musicians had suddenly fallen silent.
Ellian advanced to the edge of the uppermost step, opened her mouth and sang in a clear, strong silvery voice beautiful fluid words meaningless to the Butterburs yet which somehow put a picture in their heads of a bright fruitful island suddenly overwhelmed by a great, dark wave.
When she ended the Dunedain and some of the Men of Rhudaur in the crowd sang the last line back to her in thunderous chorus.
"That's a verse from the Atalante," Beomann whispered, "telling how Westerness was drowned in the sea."
She sang again, and this time the listeners saw ships scudding before a terrible storm to land on a grey shore. Once again the last line was sung back by the people.
"And that's about how Elendil, the first King, made it back to Middle Earth in his ships." whispered Beomann.
Surprisingly, after all that singing, the Lady fell into plain, spoken Westron. "The generations of waiting are ended. The prophecy has been fulfilled. Come Elessar Envinyatar and recieve the scepter of your fathers'."
The King climbed the steps and knelt at his aunt's feet. She turned to the Queen's brother on her right and took from his open casket a heavy silver rod tipped with the delicately wrought figure of a soaring gull, and put it into Elessar's hands, raised and kissed him and set him beside her on the top step.
Then she cried out in a strong voice: "Aiya Elessar Telcontar Envinyatar, Arataro i Numende, Taro Arannore ar Ondor; Aragorn Arathornion Edhelharn, Ar-Tor i Annui, Aran Arnor ar Gondor; Behold Elfstone the Renewer, High King of the West, King of Arnor and Gondor!"
He looked gravely down on his people and sang a short verse that didn't make any pictures but made the Butterburs feel peculiar just the same.
"Out of the Great Sea to Middle Earth I am come." Beomann interpreted quietly. "In this place will I abide, and my heirs, unto the ending of the world!"
And the people sang back the last line: "Sinome maruvan ar hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta!" sending chills down the spine.
Then Elessar gave his scepter to his aunt and smiled down at the Queen. She mounted the steps and knelt before him. Turning to her other brother the King took a second scepter, this one twined and tipped with jeweled flowers, from his casket and placed it in his wife's hands then raised her up, kissed her and brought her to stand beside him.
"Aiya Undomiel Perelda, Aratari Numende, Tari Arannore ar Ondor; Arwen Elrondien Gil-Aduial, Ar-Toril Annui, Ris Arnor ar Gondor; Behold Arwen Evenstar, High Queen of the West, Queen of Arnor and Gondor!"
Queen Undomiel didn't sing anything, just smiled down on them as the people applauded her.
A man in the silver armor, black cloak and fantastic winged helmet of the King's Gondor guard came out of the crowd with the little Princess in his arms, climbed the steps and gave her to her father.
"And here is my heir," the King proclaimed, "Aredhel Aragornien, daughter of Elfstone and Evenstar!"
That got cheers from the normally reticent Rangers and some laughter too. The Butterburs, applauding with the rest, wondered why. ****
At the King's coronation three years ago the Gondorim had been surprised but touched when he'd sung the words Elendil spoke after escaping the ruin of Numenor, taking it as an expression of homecoming by the long exiled King.
Now Hirgon saw it had in truth been part of that Northern tradition none of them had ever imagined existed. And recognized the words true meaning and intent: A renunciation of the temptations of Valinor and immortality and acceptance of Man's mortal destiny in Middle Earth. A resignation Gondor had never completely achieved.
But all else was forgotten, drowned in dismay, when Elessar proclaimed his little daughter his heir. The Gondorim exchanged appalled looks as their Northern kin applauded. Much as they loved their Princess none of them had ever dreamed the King would regard her as his rightful successor!
The law of Gondor forbade the accession of a ruling Queen. So far Elessar had always yielded to them in matters of law and custom, but would he this time, and what would happen if he didn't?
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