Post by Denethor II on Jan 15, 2013 12:55:17 GMT -5
"What fortune it has served me today," Denethor, the Lord of Gondor muttered to the walls of the great Tower of Ecthelion, as he made his way down the winding stair.
There was a great power that he kept under lock and key in the upper chamber. A power that was secret. Only the past Lords of the Land had known. His sons did not even know of this power, as it was kept secret from Steward to Steward. His eldest son, Boromir, would not learn of this force until Denethor himself passed out of the world of the living, and the power of Stewardship came upon him.
His wife had suspected that there was some great tool or weapon in that tower. Not long after Faramir had been born, Denethor's wife had succumbed to her death of grief, knowing that there was a dark force drawing her husband. It began soon after he had become Steward, and it had been growing ever more and more dark and morose. Though, Denethor did not see it this way. To him it was a tool of the wise.
The palantir. Common men had heard of the lost seeing stones, but they did not know that they still existed on the earth. Destroyed. Washed away to the sea. Nobody knew what had happened to them. It was true though that Denethor knew, and he had learned to use it, as had his forefathers back to the days of the ancient Kings.
Denethor felt a wave of panic and fear hit him as he opened the bottom door of the tower and stepped back out into the sunlight. Two guards stood always at the ready near the bottom of the tower. They did not know what was within, but they knew the tower was sacred, and must always be guarded. Day and night they stood, changing shifts when needed, much the same as the guards who stood watch over the white tree, and the guards who lived high in the mountains and watched over the beacons.
The seeing stone had lifted Denethors spirits today, though he always felt uneasy after it's use. He could look far across the plains of Gondor and see things that were happening... or perceive disputes in the north, or at least, he thought he could. He had some control over what the stone showed him, but ever so often he felt it had a mind of it's own. Or a perhaps there was another mind, looking toward another stone in a distant land, that was controlling the images he saw.
Either way, here he was now in the light of day in the courtyard, wandering back toward the stone hall where his supper lay, his mind riddled with plots, fears, and excitement. Denethor, Steward, who had all control in this great White City, and throughout Gondor.
There was a great power that he kept under lock and key in the upper chamber. A power that was secret. Only the past Lords of the Land had known. His sons did not even know of this power, as it was kept secret from Steward to Steward. His eldest son, Boromir, would not learn of this force until Denethor himself passed out of the world of the living, and the power of Stewardship came upon him.
His wife had suspected that there was some great tool or weapon in that tower. Not long after Faramir had been born, Denethor's wife had succumbed to her death of grief, knowing that there was a dark force drawing her husband. It began soon after he had become Steward, and it had been growing ever more and more dark and morose. Though, Denethor did not see it this way. To him it was a tool of the wise.
The palantir. Common men had heard of the lost seeing stones, but they did not know that they still existed on the earth. Destroyed. Washed away to the sea. Nobody knew what had happened to them. It was true though that Denethor knew, and he had learned to use it, as had his forefathers back to the days of the ancient Kings.
Denethor felt a wave of panic and fear hit him as he opened the bottom door of the tower and stepped back out into the sunlight. Two guards stood always at the ready near the bottom of the tower. They did not know what was within, but they knew the tower was sacred, and must always be guarded. Day and night they stood, changing shifts when needed, much the same as the guards who stood watch over the white tree, and the guards who lived high in the mountains and watched over the beacons.
The seeing stone had lifted Denethors spirits today, though he always felt uneasy after it's use. He could look far across the plains of Gondor and see things that were happening... or perceive disputes in the north, or at least, he thought he could. He had some control over what the stone showed him, but ever so often he felt it had a mind of it's own. Or a perhaps there was another mind, looking toward another stone in a distant land, that was controlling the images he saw.
Either way, here he was now in the light of day in the courtyard, wandering back toward the stone hall where his supper lay, his mind riddled with plots, fears, and excitement. Denethor, Steward, who had all control in this great White City, and throughout Gondor.