The Horse King of Gondor

The memoirs of Eldacar Valacarion, twentieth King of Gondor

Hail stranger,
So you're interested in my story aren't you? Or maybe you found this little book in a shelf somewhere in the Library of Osgiliath and it piqued your curiosity. Or maybe you were just bored. I don't know and I probably never will. My hand shakes slightly as I write this and though I can still wield a sword I notice that my son beats me more often during our sparring bouts. Subtle signs but in my father's line we remain vital till the end and these will be the only signs I will ever get. I will probably die within the year. Just enough time to write my story down.

I was born the 1255th year of the Third Age but my story starts five years earlier, in 1250. Gondor was considered to be at the height of its power, and my grand-father,Rómendacil II, at that time still the Regent, had won a great victory against the Easterlings two years before. He'd had great help from the Northmen during that campaign and considered it wise to strengthen this alliance further. Thus he decided in 1250 to send my father, Valacar, to the court of Vidugavia, the King of Rhovanion as an ambassador.

Though I wasn't there of course, my father's arrival at the court has been described to me so many times by my "Uncles" that I might as well have been. My father arrived on the 20th of Narquelië and though it wasn't a particularly cold day to Northern standards, my father wasn't as yet used to the Northern weather and he was thoroughly cold when he arrived. He was immediately granted an audience however, so that he was still shivering when he appeared before the King.

That audience is still a popular story nowadays in the Kingdom of Rhovanion. My father was as yet ignorant of the more informal ways of Vidugavia's court and presented himself as if he was still at the Gondorian Court, all the while still chattering with his teeth. Vidugavia managed to keep a straight face until my father was finished after what he broke out in his trademark roaring laughter, much to my father's confusion. It wasn't helped by the fact Vidugavia started shouting in the Northern language, making the rest of the court laugh as well. My father thought he had made a grave mistake and was already trying to apologise, when someone finally bothered to translate what the King was saying. Vidugavia had only been making jokes about the "frozen" manners of the Gondorian Court.

The audience more or less set the tone for the first year of my father's stay in Rhovanion. He was a polite and quiet man, who always carefully weighed his words. The Northmen are a passionate, fiery people though, quick to anger and quick to laugh. They often act on the spur of the moment, and love a good brawl. They didn't understand my father's behaviour and often made fun of it. It was good-natured though and my father took it in his stride. He quickly learned the Northmen language and tried to be more easy in his manners. He still remained somewhat of an outsider however until the rebellion.

Though Vidugavia called himself King of Rhovanion it was still a somewhat disputed title and attacks by other Northmen Lords were not unusual. This time it was a one of Vidugavia's own vassals, Lord Ahtagais, who turned on him. Vidugavia had conquered his clan ten years ago and Ahtagais had sworn fealty after being beaten in fair combat. He had now seen the opportunity to break away and he had made a lightning raid against one of the small villages that had sprouted in the neighbourhood of Vidugavia's Hall. Vidugavia was furious of course and he immediately called together his warrior band. This included most members of the court but to many people's surprise my father also showed up, clad in the full attire of a soldier of Gondor. The only explanation he gave was "King Vidugavia is an ally of Gondor after all". Soon everyone rode out and they joined with the war-bands of other Lordsunderway. Among them was Theodahad's war band and that of Vidumavi, Vidugavia's son and daughter who had both been attending business elsewhere.

Ahtagais was a cunning foe and tracking him down proved to be a difficult task. The weather was bad and the constant rain made it difficult to follow the trail. It would have been easy to lose heart in such a situation but my father surprised everyone by showing them his other side. I've described him as being quiet but he also possessed a silent passion he seldom showed. Every new burned hamlet enraged him further and he turned into a relentless hunter. When the other Lords had already left for their bedrolls he would still be in Vidugavia's tent poring over the maps and planning. "Uncle" Ecca told me it was like "seeing a lone wolf track down his prey". This is what gave rise to my father's Northman name. The Northmen had always had problems with his name, usually mangling it to something that sounded like "Walaikar". Now however they started to call him "Swartwulf", which means "black wolf" in the Northmen's language.

It was only after two near sleepless weeks that they finally found Ahtagais. And the end of their problems were as yet nowhere in sight. Ahtagais had well prepared his attacks and his war-band was more numerous than Vidugavia's. A frontal charge, as the Northmen were used to, was out of the question. My father then proposed a plan that might very well turn the tables. There were two small hills nearby, side by side and crested with a thick pine-woods, with between them a valley of sorts. My fathers plan was to split Vidugavia's forces, and to hide one part in the woods on both hills while the other would draw Ahtagais's band into the valley. Then, when given the signal the rest would attack Ahtagais's force now funnelled in the valley. The plan was not well received at first, not because the Northmen didn't see the logic of it but because for the plan to function well, the force that would draw Ahtagais's band in would have to fight on foot and form a shield-wall. The Northmen are horsemen and the thought of leaving their beloved horses didn't sit well on them. My father had help from an unexpected corner though. Vidumavi, the King's daughter, who was usually rather quiet during councils suddenly spoke up and convinced her father and the rest of the lords to follow my father's plan. She even managed to make her father allow her to be in the shield-wall.

There is a saying that every battle-plan becomes useless as soon as the fight is started. I've found that this saying often proves true and this battle was no exception. Shield-walls were as yet seldom used among the Northmen and it had never been used on such a large scale. Shield-walls are dangerous and fearsome places where even the bravest men tremble. Ahtagais charged head first into my father's shield-wall and only his and Vidumavi's encouragements kept the men steady. Still the charge was not well received and Ahtagais nearly broke through. The shield-wall buckled and was forced into an arrow-point with Vidumavi and my father at its head. The situation was critical. Ahtagais was forcing the edges of the wall inwards, threatening to fold his cavalry around, while my father and Vidumavi were fighting for their lives at the head. My father kept his cool though and slowly retreated, pushing the point back into the line. Then, once they formed a line again the whole wall slowly backed into the valley. By now Ahtagais had lost the momentum of his charge and his horsemen were fruitlessly hacking into a solid wall of lime wood. Shields broke, and men fell of course, but every gap was immediately filled by those next and behind the fallen and the wall never broke. Frustration made Ahtagais blind and he never saw the trap he was walking into. As soon as the signal was blown, the rest of Vidugavia´s force came charging into Ahtagais´s and after that it was only a matter of time.

They brought back Ahtagais back trussed like a chicken and swung over his horse´s saddle. He was executed without being allowed to hold a sword. The other Lords that had followed him were most of the time banished while the Lords who had remained loyal were richly rewarded. Vidugavia also tried to reward my father, but my father politely refused. It didn´t do anything to the fact though that the Northmen´s attitude towards my father had thoroughly changed. He was no longer the respected ambassador now, he was one of them, Swartwulf
the Quiet.

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For those who are not such incorrigible geeks as me. The Northmen are one of te side-braches of the Edain. Unlike the Numenoreans they stayed in Middle-earth during the Second age and did not receive the gift of long life. They settled south of the Mirkwood and east of what will once become Rohan. They were direct neighbours of both the Gondorians and the Easterlings and allies with the former. A few centuries from now their decendants will come to the rescue of Steward Cirion and receive Calenardhon as a gift in return. From then on they will be known as the Rohirrim.