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It was Erukyerme, but the weather was still cold and the flowers on Nimloth were still small buds. It was the coldest Erukyerme that anyone remembered.

It was also the coronation of the son of Tar-Ardamin.

Adunakhor stood alone at the top of the stairs as it had become common during these days.

He held the scepter in his hand and spoke in Adunaic.

"I am your King Ar-Adunakhor!" He shouted.

The people cheered and begun to repeat the new Kings Adunaic name.

Ar-Adunakhor walked down the stairs and started the ascend to the summit at Meneltarma.

Among the people in the capital was Earendur the Earl of Andunie.

At the meeting of the council Ar-Adunakhor introduced his son as his heir. Zimrathon had just become 1one hundreds years old and took the place next to the king. He did not speak during the meeting , but the King had a law to announce for the council members.

He said; "There shall no longer be spoken in this room in another tongue than Adunaic. We have long been forgotten by the so called blessed people; we owe them nothing, our fortune has been created by our ancestors alone, here and in Middle Earth."

The council remained silence for the most of the meeting.

As the council members left, the new king asked Earendur to stay.

The King said; "You have been silence for most of the meeting, Earendur. Do you not share the same enthusiasm as the rest of the council?"

Earendur answered; "the people of Andustar is loyal to Numenor."

The king said; "You fool me not, Earendur of Andunie, I will deal with you and your people. You will become as loyal subject to the crown as other people of Numenor."

Earendur stood in silence for a while. Then he said; "What do you ask of me, my lord?"

The king changed subject; "they tell me your father is still alive."

"He is;" Earendur said.

"How old is he;" Ar-Adunakhor asked.

Earendur answered; "he is three hundred and fifteen years old."

"Is he well?" the King asked.

"He is;" Earendur answered waiting for an explanation for the strange questions.

The King said; "My father died when he was two hundred and eighty one years old. He was not sick, just old. How can it be that he, the greatest among Numenoreans had to face a shorter life than your father Earendur?"

Earendur said; "I do not know, sire."

The King continued; "Could this be the magic of your friends in the Grey Harbor?"

Earendur said; "The fate of the firstborn and the second born is divvied. I am mortal, so is my father."

The King remained silence. Then he said; "You are right Earendur. You and your kinsmen are mortal. Now leave!"

Earendur bowed and left as the king requested. He passed though the King Courtyard and look upon Nimloth. He took as random branch and held it. Its buds seemed to open slowly and the beginning of a flower could be seen. Earendur looked up and felt the sun warming him.

Ar-Adunakhor of Numenor, the new king, walked to a table in the King's Room. The books of kings were on the table. He opened the book and flipped its pages until he came to a blank page.

He took a feather and dipped in in the ink close by. He wrote "Ar-Adunakhor."

The king stopped; he looked out thought vaults and upon Meneltarma.

Then he tore the new page out of the book.

On the next page, he wrote "Tar-Herunumen."