The Three Men of Numenor Fair
Mar 24, 2019 12:10:25 GMT -5
Post by SIRION on Mar 24, 2019 12:10:25 GMT -5
AKA: I wrote a Dunedain fairy tale because I am garbage.
Ahem, so as some of you may be aware already I have found writing Sirion, being a father himself, along with much younger characters such as Eldarion to be oddly compelling. So while I was meant to be catching up with my last post outstanding I actually spent most of last night writing... well, see the above. The narrative originally derives from a three-line saying regarding the Three Unifiers of Feudal Japan, Oda Nobunaga, Toyotomi Hideyoshi and Tokugawa Ieyasu; a saying which I wont share because it will spoil the story.
This is a rough version of that which has undergone only a little editing but can't really be described as having been 'revised.'
In universe this is a children's fable which would have been told by the Elendili, The Faithful when they were still on Numenor and would have come with them to Middle-Earth after The Downfall. After that it would become part of their oral tradition before Sirion had heard it. (I imagine it would still be told by the Northern Dunedain, but as with so much would have been lost in the South by the time of the War of the Ring, Dol Amroth being the possible exception.) Later he would regale Eldarion with the tale (he'd possibly have told it to Estel as well while he was in Rivendell, but I am unsure of this since it was longing after his own family which made him more fatherly in the early Fourth Age) before the Prince wrote that version down some time in the Fourth Age, probably before he had become King. The text presented below would be the version as it was told to and recorded by him.
If any of you would wish to reference or use parts of this, or different versions of it, for the purposes of your own IC posts you are of course most welcome and I shall be enormously flattered. Likewise you are free to alter, revise and share it around as you like.
The Three Men of Numenor Fair
Long ago, never mind when, there were three Men of Numenor fair. A Powerful Man, a Wealthy Man and a Wise Man.
By chance they came to the foot of Meneltarma on the selfsame day and driven hither by the same purpose. For each had heard tell of a songbird, whom the minstrels said had learned its melody long ago from fair Luthien and echoed still the Music of the Ainur which Melian had heard.
It was said also that whosoever heard the bird's song would receive his heart's desire without fail. But the little bird was itself long-lived as are the kin of Thorndor, wise too it was and proud, or so proud as little songbirds can be. So it kept its silence as it picked about the cracks and crags of Meneltarma and would sing only once every century or so.
And so the Three Numenoreans all agreed that they should camp at the mountains foot to await the appointed time. They talked deep in to the nights and sang songs of home, indeed they came to know one another well in the days they passed together.
The Powerful Man would tell of his adventures in distant Middle-Earth, where he had made many alliances with the Middle-Men, where also he had fought battles with their Southern and Eastern kin in hopes of subjugating them to bring the peace and wisdom of the Western Isle to all corners of the world.
The Wealthy Man too would tell of his own adventures, traveling, trading and seeing many strange things. He regaled his companions at length with tales of far off places, strange tongues and many varied crafts which he had brought back to fair Numenor.
The Wise Man mostly sat silent and listened, for indeed he wished to know of the things his companions had seen and done. When pressed for more than this he would speak of his wife and his sons, whom he loved and missed.
Their long awaited day came... and passed. Not a chirp, nor a twittering nor even the faintest flutter of wings was heard over the encampment and the three Men wondered whether they had been made the butt of some minstrel's joke. That is until far above them one morning they saw standing proud and motionless upon the crags of the mountain, a little songbird, silent though he hopped or fluttered this way and that.
Then having waited some time to hear the bird's music The Powerful Man grew wroth, saying he would not wait on the whims nor at the beck and call of some wretched songbird. He fired arrows up at the little bird, but the songbird was clever and flew higher where no arrow could follow. The Powerful Man, though his friends attempted to cool his temper, left the mountain that night and returned over the sea to Middle-Earth.
Now only two, The Wealthy Man and The Wise Man did not see the songbird again for some days, but when they did the Wealthy Man suggested they should feed it so that they would gain its trust and it might then share its song. This they did, always sharing a crumb of their food with the small silent creature, but after a week of this The Wealthy Man grew impatient. Then, holding that he might purchase for himself anything he desired or which took his fancy, he also departed across the Sea.
For a time The Wise Man stayed. He would still offer the songbird food and though it now trusted him enough that it would alight and eat from his palm it still made not a single sound. Disheartened and missing very much his home and kin, he too departed. So it happened that none of them had fulfilled their original goal and they lived out their lives far from one another, but it happened that they would meet with their deaths around the same time.
So the three, who had counted one-another as friends were gladdened to meet again before the Doors of Mandos wherein dwelt the Doomsman of the Valar. Stepping within they were enamoured of the rich tapestries which Vaire had wove and which told their stories from the hour of their birth right down to the day of their death.
The Powerful Man it seemed had returned to Middle-Earth to carve out a kingdom among the Men who lived there, but they bore him no love and only did him obeisance out of fear. His life had been filled with battle upon battle and in one such he had met his end, struck with the arrow of a fleeing enemy whom he had sought to ride down. His sons too had been overcome as they made to defend his body and though he looked all over he could not find them in Mandos.
The Wealthy Man had done likewise, though he had won lordship through fair gifts and fine words, only asking that his new subjects should fight when peoples would not yield to him willingly. The images of his fate were less clear. For though he had won their favor he too feared that he had bought no love and that his accomplishments would not outlive his sons.
Last of all, The Wise Man had stayed in Numenor where he had returned home to wife and son. Though he had never forgotten his friends, nor the little songbird that had brought them together and he would visit whenever he could to bring the bird food, still hoping one day to hear it sing. When they were older he had brought his sons and whenever there were travelers also wishing to hear they would listed to their stories with joy and wonder. Then, when his sons were full grown and had sons of their own, the Wise Man would bring his grandchildren for he was too old now to make such a journey alone.
It was on one such journey that, bent low with old age and weariness, the Wise Man had set down by the mountain side never to rise again. His grandsons and the travelers thereabouts were distraught until, clear and bold above them a birdsong rang down from the mountain. Though it was not the song they had wished it was sad and sweet and when it ended the Wise Man had smiled and closed his eyes.
So the Three Numenoreans came to the Halls of Mandos proper, where Namo sits in judgment of all souls that pass therein.
To the Powerful Man he spake thus: 'You have turned your blade upon the kin of your fathers and it is therefore my decree that you shall guard and guide him through my Halls until such time as your debt is paid.' The Powerful Man, though he chaffed under the authority of another, dared not challenge the decree of a Vala and so he took his place at the side of Namo to serve his penance.
Turning now to the Wealthy Man Namo said: 'Thy crime is greater still, for your usury hath set brother upon brother and you did so knowingly. Therefore you shall serve as my scribe here in Mandos, reckoning the debts of others until, long after your fellow here, your own is paid.' Though the Wealthy Man, as was his fashion, attempted to coax the Doomsman, Namo would not be moved and at length he too took his place before Namo's throne.
Now looking upon the Wise Man, Namo spoke again so that the roof of his Halls shook. 'And your crime is the worst of all, for in your heart you had wished to follow these Men, only now you have come to death and found that you had not yet lived.'
The Wise Man smiled and Namo arose in disquiet and demanded of the Wise Man: 'How now may you smile, knowing this?'
'I smile,' replied the Wise Man, 'because I had heard a little of a little bird's song and that had been my wish.'
So it was then that Namo bid the Wise Man enter his Halls and he greeted him as a friend.
Ahem, so as some of you may be aware already I have found writing Sirion, being a father himself, along with much younger characters such as Eldarion to be oddly compelling. So while I was meant to be catching up with my last post outstanding I actually spent most of last night writing... well, see the above. The narrative originally derives from a three-line saying regarding the Three Unifiers of Feudal Japan, Oda Nobunaga, Toyotomi Hideyoshi and Tokugawa Ieyasu; a saying which I wont share because it will spoil the story.
This is a rough version of that which has undergone only a little editing but can't really be described as having been 'revised.'
In universe this is a children's fable which would have been told by the Elendili, The Faithful when they were still on Numenor and would have come with them to Middle-Earth after The Downfall. After that it would become part of their oral tradition before Sirion had heard it. (I imagine it would still be told by the Northern Dunedain, but as with so much would have been lost in the South by the time of the War of the Ring, Dol Amroth being the possible exception.) Later he would regale Eldarion with the tale (he'd possibly have told it to Estel as well while he was in Rivendell, but I am unsure of this since it was longing after his own family which made him more fatherly in the early Fourth Age) before the Prince wrote that version down some time in the Fourth Age, probably before he had become King. The text presented below would be the version as it was told to and recorded by him.
If any of you would wish to reference or use parts of this, or different versions of it, for the purposes of your own IC posts you are of course most welcome and I shall be enormously flattered. Likewise you are free to alter, revise and share it around as you like.
The Three Men of Numenor Fair
Long ago, never mind when, there were three Men of Numenor fair. A Powerful Man, a Wealthy Man and a Wise Man.
By chance they came to the foot of Meneltarma on the selfsame day and driven hither by the same purpose. For each had heard tell of a songbird, whom the minstrels said had learned its melody long ago from fair Luthien and echoed still the Music of the Ainur which Melian had heard.
It was said also that whosoever heard the bird's song would receive his heart's desire without fail. But the little bird was itself long-lived as are the kin of Thorndor, wise too it was and proud, or so proud as little songbirds can be. So it kept its silence as it picked about the cracks and crags of Meneltarma and would sing only once every century or so.
And so the Three Numenoreans all agreed that they should camp at the mountains foot to await the appointed time. They talked deep in to the nights and sang songs of home, indeed they came to know one another well in the days they passed together.
The Powerful Man would tell of his adventures in distant Middle-Earth, where he had made many alliances with the Middle-Men, where also he had fought battles with their Southern and Eastern kin in hopes of subjugating them to bring the peace and wisdom of the Western Isle to all corners of the world.
The Wealthy Man too would tell of his own adventures, traveling, trading and seeing many strange things. He regaled his companions at length with tales of far off places, strange tongues and many varied crafts which he had brought back to fair Numenor.
The Wise Man mostly sat silent and listened, for indeed he wished to know of the things his companions had seen and done. When pressed for more than this he would speak of his wife and his sons, whom he loved and missed.
Their long awaited day came... and passed. Not a chirp, nor a twittering nor even the faintest flutter of wings was heard over the encampment and the three Men wondered whether they had been made the butt of some minstrel's joke. That is until far above them one morning they saw standing proud and motionless upon the crags of the mountain, a little songbird, silent though he hopped or fluttered this way and that.
Then having waited some time to hear the bird's music The Powerful Man grew wroth, saying he would not wait on the whims nor at the beck and call of some wretched songbird. He fired arrows up at the little bird, but the songbird was clever and flew higher where no arrow could follow. The Powerful Man, though his friends attempted to cool his temper, left the mountain that night and returned over the sea to Middle-Earth.
Now only two, The Wealthy Man and The Wise Man did not see the songbird again for some days, but when they did the Wealthy Man suggested they should feed it so that they would gain its trust and it might then share its song. This they did, always sharing a crumb of their food with the small silent creature, but after a week of this The Wealthy Man grew impatient. Then, holding that he might purchase for himself anything he desired or which took his fancy, he also departed across the Sea.
For a time The Wise Man stayed. He would still offer the songbird food and though it now trusted him enough that it would alight and eat from his palm it still made not a single sound. Disheartened and missing very much his home and kin, he too departed. So it happened that none of them had fulfilled their original goal and they lived out their lives far from one another, but it happened that they would meet with their deaths around the same time.
So the three, who had counted one-another as friends were gladdened to meet again before the Doors of Mandos wherein dwelt the Doomsman of the Valar. Stepping within they were enamoured of the rich tapestries which Vaire had wove and which told their stories from the hour of their birth right down to the day of their death.
The Powerful Man it seemed had returned to Middle-Earth to carve out a kingdom among the Men who lived there, but they bore him no love and only did him obeisance out of fear. His life had been filled with battle upon battle and in one such he had met his end, struck with the arrow of a fleeing enemy whom he had sought to ride down. His sons too had been overcome as they made to defend his body and though he looked all over he could not find them in Mandos.
The Wealthy Man had done likewise, though he had won lordship through fair gifts and fine words, only asking that his new subjects should fight when peoples would not yield to him willingly. The images of his fate were less clear. For though he had won their favor he too feared that he had bought no love and that his accomplishments would not outlive his sons.
Last of all, The Wise Man had stayed in Numenor where he had returned home to wife and son. Though he had never forgotten his friends, nor the little songbird that had brought them together and he would visit whenever he could to bring the bird food, still hoping one day to hear it sing. When they were older he had brought his sons and whenever there were travelers also wishing to hear they would listed to their stories with joy and wonder. Then, when his sons were full grown and had sons of their own, the Wise Man would bring his grandchildren for he was too old now to make such a journey alone.
It was on one such journey that, bent low with old age and weariness, the Wise Man had set down by the mountain side never to rise again. His grandsons and the travelers thereabouts were distraught until, clear and bold above them a birdsong rang down from the mountain. Though it was not the song they had wished it was sad and sweet and when it ended the Wise Man had smiled and closed his eyes.
So the Three Numenoreans came to the Halls of Mandos proper, where Namo sits in judgment of all souls that pass therein.
To the Powerful Man he spake thus: 'You have turned your blade upon the kin of your fathers and it is therefore my decree that you shall guard and guide him through my Halls until such time as your debt is paid.' The Powerful Man, though he chaffed under the authority of another, dared not challenge the decree of a Vala and so he took his place at the side of Namo to serve his penance.
Turning now to the Wealthy Man Namo said: 'Thy crime is greater still, for your usury hath set brother upon brother and you did so knowingly. Therefore you shall serve as my scribe here in Mandos, reckoning the debts of others until, long after your fellow here, your own is paid.' Though the Wealthy Man, as was his fashion, attempted to coax the Doomsman, Namo would not be moved and at length he too took his place before Namo's throne.
Now looking upon the Wise Man, Namo spoke again so that the roof of his Halls shook. 'And your crime is the worst of all, for in your heart you had wished to follow these Men, only now you have come to death and found that you had not yet lived.'
The Wise Man smiled and Namo arose in disquiet and demanded of the Wise Man: 'How now may you smile, knowing this?'
'I smile,' replied the Wise Man, 'because I had heard a little of a little bird's song and that had been my wish.'
So it was then that Namo bid the Wise Man enter his Halls and he greeted him as a friend.