Second-born
Stories
Excerpt from the journals of Faramir,
son of Denethor II
During the 23rd
year of the stewardship of Lord Denethor II
Today I spent another day with Mithrandir in the
Royal Archives, under the guise of monitoring the wizard’s actions of
course. Father would never approve of me being under the Grey Wizard’s
tutelage. I truly wish he would, though. Surely the wisdom of a Maia, a
servant of the Valar, is something to be coveted? Even Boromir agrees
with me, though he places more value on the art of war than on, and I
quote, “books and bits of uselessness.” He is loathe to admit that our
most brilliant schemes and pranks are the result of the tactics I
garner from these “bits of uselessness.”
To return to my previous topic, after a stimulating
debate over the different architectural styles displayed in each of the
seven levels of Minas Tirith, the Grey Wizard and I began to discuss
the differences between Elves and Men. All of Middle-earth knows that
Elves are tall, fair, and wise while we Men are by contrast clumsy and
awkward. At length I remarked to Mithrandir that it seemed that the
Elves were luckier in their lot than Men. “Why, Faramir,” said he,
“what makes you say so?”
I replied that the Elves seemed to be much more
advantaged in all aspects. According to the Anatomies of Middle-earth,
which I only managed to peruse by sweet-talking our highly protective
Healers, Elves have a higher immunity to diseases than we. They also
possess greater hand-eye coordination, reflexes at least two times
faster than the average man, and an eyesight equivalent to that of a
hawk. The shaping of their feet allows them to tread through a forest
floor full of fallen leaves with barely a sigh, and the points of their
ears help channel more sound than ours, which is how they can clearly
hear a whispered remark within an estimated range of fifty meters and
how they are able to converse with the trees. There is actually a
debate among scholars as to whether Sindarin Elvish was influenced by
Tree…but I digress.
When I mentioned that Elves are immortal, he glanced
sharply my way; perhaps he was afraid that I had become jealous of the
Elves, like Al-Pharazon. “To each race was given equal endowment,
Faramir. Eru loves none less, and bequeathes equal inheritance to His
children.” Then came a summons from Father, and I was forced to end our
discussion early.
Later, after dinner and a sparring match with
Boromir, I made my way to the alcove Mother always sat in when she was
with us. When the wind was right it would bring along the scent of the
sea. As I stared at the stars I mulled over Mithrandir’s words. Elves
and immortality, Men and death…
Death. What is death? Is it the end, or is it merely
the beginning?
Ilúvatar gave Men their mortality, calling it
a gift. Many who have tasted its bitterness call it a curse. But Eru is
the Creator and Father of all; surely in His wisdom, mercy, and love He
would not curse His children, even if second born!
The Elves received the blessing of immortality, to
live forever unless hurt or grief will take them. Some mortals envy
them for this. But do they not tire of being? Do they not tire of not
being able to rest? Such an endless future…never ceasing, never
relenting, but driving them on and on and on…
Perhaps this is Eru’s gift to Man. To be able to
leave the troubles of Arda, to put down the weary load and the limiting
body, to leave the woes of life and soar away to eternal bliss…
To finish at last the story of your life, put down
the pen, and massage an aching hand knowing that it will no longer be
cramped from writing…
To at last hang up the traveler’s cloak, prop away
the staff, and come to the end of the road that goes ever on and on,
back from the door where it began…
And to start an entirely new experience—not life,
no, that’s over and done with—but the afterlife.
Who knows what an adventure that will be?
The
End
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