The Horn of Gondor

by Dandy
The Horn of Gondor
Wrought of silver, wrought of bone
From flesh of oxen, the enemy flown
1000 times 1000 the horn shall blow
The time of ending drawing near
When allies unite, but no longer appear

I was wrought in ancient times for the Stewards of Gondor. Made from the horn of a pure white ox, very rare and most sacred. Bound in silver and runes. My voice would sound for battle, although each owner used me for his own desires. Some masters were hard, driven. And I would turn cold with their touch. Other would seldom press their lips to mine, and I would lay discarded for a while. And others, ah, what joy, defenders at need, would urge my voice to lift triumphantly into song, and how the enemy would fly before us. Generation upon generation, I was passed on, an heirloom to the house.

Father to son, till at last the runes were forgotten. And the runes that gave me life, were the ones that told of my death. A new bond was set with each contact and as with each of my masters from the beginning of my time, with each touch, I awoke. I was for a time alive, living breathing. I shared their feelings, their desires, their pains, and we would communicate as one.

I was laid in the babies cradle. The heat of the infant warm to the touch, I heard the voice of my current master speak. “Well, old lady, it is your time to be passed onto another, we were close, but now it is his turn.” A ladies voice was heard in response, a wave of jealousy went though me. She would remain with him, while I was set a drift once again.

“Should you give him the horn at such a young age? He may get entangled in the cord.” She asked him.

Never, I breathed.

“Its okay my love, it is one of our traditions. The horn must be presented at birth.” The little hand reached on and grasped my strap; a wave of tenderness surged through me, a new bond had been made. A new beginning.
“Lady?” I awoke this time lying upon his lap. It had been a long time since we had talked. My last clear memory of him and I was during the leave taking at Rivendell. The rest of the time was spent in a semi-conscious state. His need must be urgent for I felt his agitation coming through quite clearly.

“My lord?”

“What am I to do My Lady? The time of the parting of the company has come. Do we stay and see it through or do we return to Faramir and Father? Surely the need for us must be growing.”

“And your desire, My Lord?”

“Therein lies my dilemma. Ever since Lorien and I heard Lady Galadrial’s speech in my head I have had this desire for the Ring. Lorien still lies heavy on my mind. There is hope, she had said. But yet I am torn between the last hope of my people and my duty to them. How can we so willing let disappear into the unknown what we can use to destroy the enemy. Why should we not use this gift of hope that we have been given? Why did she say that hope exists? Elves, they can be so fickle with there information. They tell us to hope. And yet they tell us not what to base our hope on.”

“I know not my lord. Can we convince them to at least try your plans? What would your Father have advised you to do?” My knowledge of the men failed outside the Stewarts. But I knew desire, and I could feel and share his.

“Father, Father” The excited seven-year-old ran into the throne room. “Look what I can do Father.” With a self-indulgent smile and a wave the steward dismissed the councilors.

“What is it son?”

A gleam came into the boy’s eye. “Listen.” He put my mouthpiece to his own and blew. With a cheer my voice sounded with a deep voice through the hall. The councilors and guards came rushing back into the room. Joy filled me at last. Someone who shared my passion, if I had possessed tears I would have wept.

“I know you can hear it son, but did you see and understand what happened? As it is, thus it always should be. Your allies will come to your call, and your enemies flee. Use the old girl wisely, son, for she is now a part of you. And in your turn pass it on to your son at his birth to keep up the magical gift of life.”

The boy turned his bright eyes back to me.

“Yes Father, I will,” He said with a smile. His face turned thoughtful as he looked.

“Father? What do the markings say?”

“I do not know son, it has been many years since anyone has been able to translate the markings, perhaps one will come who can, perhaps not. Now go and play, your father has work to do.”

“Yes Father.”

“And Boromir. Always remember, everything that you have and everything you and the lady do; must go towards the good of Gondor.”

“Yes, father. Come My lady, lets go make some music.” We ran from the room, our voices joined in song.

Everything you have and everything you do must go towards the good of Gondor. It was the only answer I could give him.

“Thank you My Lady I will take that and try to persuade him to come to my city.” The contact was ended, I returned to my restless state and awaited his next touch.
It came but it was an unexpected reaction, the tears dropped and slid down my fair skin. His sorrow was profound.

“My Lord? Why do you weep?”

“Lady, I.. Something happened.. I tried to take the Ring. I do not know what sickness came over me. I tried to take the Ring and now he has gone, fled. What am I to do now?”

“Have you told the others that he missing? Can we not search for him? Maybe he has just returned to the camp.”

“But what then Lady? Should he tell them what I have done, I will be discarded, Should I tell them that I desire the thing then I shall be discarded. Either way it will not aid my people in the form of allies or otherwise. I am so torn. I have failed Gondor.”

“Ah, My Lord, the first thing you must do is to get control of your emotions. You are overwrought. We must be ruled by thought first, your emotions are too volatile, we cannot think.”

“Then My Lady, we must return to the fire. I will tell them what I can, though, it pains me to do so.”
My voice rang out again! Through our pain came a flash of pleasure. To battle! A fight! The glorious call to arms! This is what I was made for! Finally we go to battle again. The Battle Cry!! Long has that call been silent. Gather Allies!! Run foes!! Glorious Battle enrages. What joy! Run foul orcs and creatures of evil. Fear us both, for we fight as one.

Again he pressed his lips to mine. Our unexpected shock was immediate.

Run! Run?

“My Lady, “ I felt the immediate sorrow. “MY LADY YOU HAVE BETRAYED US..”

“Betrayed, My Lord, how?”

“The enemy is upon us! Run!” he cried to the young ones behind us.

“My lord.. Please tell me how?”

I felt as the first arrow pierced him. The shock, pain, agony filled me.. But this was not as painful as the questions inside me.. How did I betray him? What have I done? Then the words of the maker returned to me:

Wrought of silver, wrought of bone
From flesh of oxen, the enemy flown
1000 times 1000 the horn shall blow
The time of ending drawing near
When allies unite, but no longer appear

I too, had forgotten the lost language, until now. Now I understood, and it was too late.

The second arrow struck. No more aid could I render my master. Fight on, I breathed, fight on. We had survived before. We would survive again. Suddenly separate from the pain that I was sharing with him came a wrenching, tearing through my own soul. I felt myself being torn in half. Never had such agony filled me. I was dieing literally inside. I had to get it out.

“My Lord? My Love! My friend! Farewell, I am sorry. I loved you.”

“My Lady?” He looked at me in surprise. The arrow that had split me asunder was also the last one he felt. Tears filled his eyes..

“My lady? Goodbye”

One last time, one last sigh as I whispered.

“You were always my favorite. Farewell”