Guests for Supper [March 3011] [Hurin]

“You are the Lord of Lond Galen,” Denethor repeated justly as Hurin had spoken. “You are a feudal tenant, who holds on behalf of the realm of Gondor. And I am the Steward who acts on behalf of the King. The King who has abandoned the duty of his Country and sits not upon the throne. As you too abandon the duty of Gondor."

Denethor raised his napkin to wipe his mouth, his scowl deeper as the moments passed and then he lifted the goblet of wine again to his lips. “For the poor, give alms. Set aside a kitchen and a cook to feed them from your own stores if you so desire, but for Gondor, you must provide a true heir of blood. For service to the realm.”

The young man spoke that he understood, though Denethor was uncertain he truly did. The Steward knew he bore wisdom and longsightedness, of which no other man could boast. It was not Hurin’s fault that he lacked wisdom and he held so few years. Denethor held to the thoughts of few advisers, and none of those which he did were younger than he.

“Good,” Denethor stated, “Then you will do right by it.” Enough spoken on the topic for now, if the time came for an heir to be necessary, and Hurin held no true heir by blood; his title would pass elsewhere and his own line would be uprooted. Surely the young man understood that and his actions held to their own consequences.

"I hope you will come to the wedding."

“Mm…” was all Denethor could answer to that, pausing to drink deeply of the red wine from his goblet before looked back to his nephew. He had little time for frivolity to be added to his schedule. “When and where is it to be held?”

HÚRIN TELCONTAR