I couldn’t quite understand what I had done. In one shining moment, I had pledged to serve one whose son had died to save me. In my heart I had been pledging my serviced to Boromir.

In life I was pledging my services to a madman.

My thoughts turned to Merry momentarily. My dearest friends, where was he? I missed him so much. I was a foolish Took, I knew. I had done exactly what I had been advised against. And now I was here, serving this madman.

The sound of horse hooves gently clipping against the cobblestone road brought my eyes downward, to the streets. There rode Faramir, strong, brave, and unappreciated. The man was so like his brother in appearance, but also so different. He was true and kind, of meek and tender heart. Yet there he was, leaving the city, seeking a peace that would only come in death. I didn’t want him to go, but I knew after having been rebuked by his father, there was no other choice for him. His desire to please the aging steward came before his own will to live. It was heart wrenching.

“Young Peregrin Took, the Steward has summoned you,” a guard reported, coming before me. I turned my eyes to my hands, my fingers tracing the impressed Tree of Gondor on my bracers. I silently followed the messenger to the great hall of his lord, the Steward. He was seated at a table filled with sustenance of various kinds – meats, vegetables, wines, and fresh fruits. He said nothing to me, barely acknowledging my presence, leaving me to ponder. My thoughts returned to Merry, to lords Boromir and Faramir, to my cousin Frodo, and to Sam. For the first time in a while I felt fear grip at my heart. The fate of the world hung in the balance. Death could very well come to all who seek peace, even me. This war was drawing to a close, a violent crescendo to the opus, and I could feel the intensity with every fiber of my being.

For the first time, I became aware of Denethor’s penetrating gaze boring into me. I turned my eyes toward him, recognizing he was looking at me. “Can you sing, master Hobbit?”

I couldn’t believe what he was asking of me. His youngest son was dying, my cousin was dying, so many were dying for a noble cause, and yet here he sat, partaking in kingly meals and asking if I could sing.

“Well, yes,” I replied eventually. “But my people have no songs for great halls such as these, or dark times.”

He continued to press me. “And what makes you think your songs are not fitting for my halls?” It was more like a reprimand than a question. “Come. Sing me a song.”

How could he ask it of me? He could not have understood the emotional connection of music, how deeply spiritual it was. My soul was aching. I couldn’t sing something jovial, like the drinking songs Merry and I so frequently chanted together. My heart was already breaking. Knowing I could not escape his request, I finally forced a song to leave my withered lungs.

Home is behind, the world ahead

It seemed like I had traveled the whole of Middle Earth. The Shire seemed a childhood memory of long, long ago. My heart longed to return there. My sweet home seemed lost to me.

And there are many paths to tread

I remembered our journey to Rivendell, the Elvin Paradise. I remembered how the path had led us to the mines of Moria, of the orc raid, and Merry and I being separated from the others. Now we were separated from each other. When would it end?

Through shadow, to the edge of night

Life had become a journey in the dark. The shadow of Mordor had clouded all. The days were growing dim, and the shadow had fallen over my own heart.

Until the stars are all alight

But could they ever shine through this? The end seemed so far away. Success seemed impossible. Almost unachievable.

Mist and shadow, cloud and shade

Memories of the more ignorant times of my youth were bringing me to tears. It seemed such a short time ago, and yet so long ago.

Hope shall fail

Mine already had.

All shall........Fade

I glanced up as the last note resonated in the cavernous room. The song had been of my own creation, and so deeply and truly me, that I expected perhaps maybe I could get a response.

When I turned my eyes to Denethor, he was still feasting as though he hadn’t even heard.

I turned my eyes earthward then, tears burning furiously within them. When would it end?