A birthday request for something palanitir-related.

The Steward and the King

A grim price must be paid, he finds, to redeem this shadowed Stone; fire reawakens and the burning takes its toll. But with it he may still command, eye to eye, across the far-flung leagues, hold secure a reunited realm. Small price to …

“Sire, enough.”

A steady grip upon his shoulder anchors him as he withdraws his gaze. Horror soon returns; hands - withering, untimely aged - will not relinquish, even as the flames consume.

Faramir’s concern is clear and Aragorn offers him a rueful smile. Together they replace the pall.

“Aye, my friend, you are right; time to let it go.”