The sun shone in bright diamond patterns on the schoolroom floor. Eldarion stared glumly out of the window, wishing he could be out fishing along the banks of the Anduin with his mother’s brothers, rather than trapped here with his new tutor.
Herion coughed. “Your attention please, Master Eldarion. For our first lesson we will look at the history between Gondor and Rohan. How did the bond between the realms begin?”
“Cirion, and the Ride of Eorl, and the battle of the Field of Celebrant,” Eldarion answered quickly.
Herion nodded. “Good. You have been well taught. But how do we know this?”
“Well – there are stories. Legends. Songs and ballads.”
“Good. But storytellers and bards can embroider the truth. How can we determine the truth behind the legends?” A finger tapped meaningfully on the cover of a heavy, inches-thick tome.
Eldarion paused.
“Letters, Master Eldarion. Letters and diaries written by the men who were actually there. First hand accounts. How else can we know what really happened, after so many years?”
The sun spangles on the floor flickered as two shadows passed the window – Elladan and Elrohir, coming to find him. Eldarion grinned, and pointed. “I would ask my uncles.”
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