Chapters
5420 E.L The High King of Arnor and all its empire stood at the window of the House of Kings in Morlond. Farsighted as he was, he could see from here as his granddaughters continued to distribute food, blankets, and other necessities to the people of the city, refusing to return home per their oath. "You should be proud of them," he told his son Aragorn. "They have singlehandedly won the love and affection of the people." He knew the game that was being played here, yet for all the politicking, he could…- 309.2 K • Completed
- 5420 E.L "Blessings on you and your family Princess," the woman said. Silmariën could only nod in response, feeling too guilt-ridden to say more. The poor in Morlond were starving and Silmariën and her younger sisters had taken up the responsibility of feeding them the rations, earning them much love and acclaim. It made her feel like a fake at times. They should be doing more to help these people, their people. What good was feeding them hard and small rations? Where had the once fabled wealth of…
- 309.2 K • Completed
- 5399 E.L. "A mirian for your thoughts Your Highness?" Lord Elured asked. He was the noble who had been chosen to be Aragorn's guide when he visited the province of Arnen, one of twenty-two colonial provinces in the far southern region of Hyarmen, the most remote part of the greater Arnorian Empire. "Breathtaking, and certainly very impressive; how tall can they grow?" Aragorn asked as he continued to look at the giant redwood trees. "Almost four hundred feet, Your Highness. The tallest we've found is…
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- 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…
- 309.2 K • Completed
- Everything changed when the Doom destroyed Valyria. With no rival left, nothing remained to stand in Arnor's way as it expanded its power and influence across the world. The centuries after the Doom would see Arnor's rise to become the empire on which the sun never sets, beginning the Second Golden Age as Arnor reached heights of power it had not attained even in the days of Alcarin the Glorious. Yet this Second Golden Age would ultimately find itself interrupted by the return of the Long Night, the coming…
- 309.2 K • Completed
- 5000 E.L There was a strange saying in Arnor. Doom is an old friend. It was quite a dark saying but it was true. Doom was a concept their people were very familiar with. If one traced their oldest legends, the story of the Silmarillion was that of doom, the doom of the many ancient realms, the doom that befell Beleriand, the doom that gave them Elenna the Blessed as home before it was taken from them. It was the doom of Númenor that had brought them to Westeros. For five thousand years, doom had…
- 309.2 K • Completed
- 4803 E.L "And there is nothing more that can be done for her?" Arassuil asked, desperate but also resigned. "I am sorry, Your Highness. Our healing arts are among the finest in the world, but we have never been able to cure old age. Her time has come. For one not of the Line of Elendil, she has lived very long indeed already," the healer said. Arassuil sat back down into his seat, his head in his hands. The healer was right of course. For someone not of the royal line, two hundred and ninety-seven years…
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- Artys Arryn counted seven thousand through the far eye. Seven thousand invading troops that had come to take Strongsong and end their rebellion in the bud. They very well could he knew. For all the prestige his taking of Strongsong had brought him, it had not been enough for all the forces opposing his cousin and her Arnorian masters to fully rally to him, with many either fighting on their own or choosing neutrality over a fight they could not see themselves winning. He needed to prove them otherwise. And…
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- This isn't what I wanted, Rodrik thought as he rode to parley with his niece. All this pointless death and war wasn't supposed to happen. Once more Arnor had brought war to the Vale, he thought bitterly. It was a thought that reverberated throughout the Vale, he knew, the discontent at Arnor putting them through yet another war reaching a boiling point. And yet, while he cursed Arnor for doing so, he cursed himself just as much. He had failed, he knew. And his failure had cost the lives of his brother and…
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- 4546 E.L "I am his and he is mine," his daughter said before the Arnorian Prince leaned in to kiss her. Roland clapped as did all the other guests when the newlywed couple kissed. Though outwardly congratulatory and celebratory, he did still have some misgivings about the match. His daughter was only forty years old, middle-aged for the commoners of the Vale, but for the nobility who had the Blood of Númenor running in their veins, that was exceptionally young. Her new husband was three times her age and…
- 309.2 K • Completed
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