Chapter 19
In Turrialba, Costa Rica…
They arrived in the sizable Costa Rican town the third day after their exit from the Darien Gap. It was just before one o'clock, though the sky was overcast with thick dark clouds, and the sun was nowhere to be seen. It might have been sooner had they not been held up for hours at a time crossing the Panama Canal and crossing the Panamanian-Costa Rican border, but that couldn't be helped. They were exhausted from driving, all except Radagast who himself had no idea how to operate the truck and had no desire to learn, and while they had not starved on the journey, their meals had been fewer and farther between than had been comfortable for any of them.
Like most of the landscape they had seen on their journey, Costa Rica was a verdant garden of tropical forest and picturesque towns. One could even say it was the epitome of Central American natural beauty. Even the volcano which was their ultimate goal was covered in living emerald foliage from the base up to the rim of the caldera as it came into view from the road. But they had seen so much of it over the past few weeks that it had lost its appeal and paradisaical uniqueness.
The town of Turrialba was, to Jim's mind, the most colorful town he had ever seen, quite literally. Covered in a jumbled mix of bright reds, greens, yellows, and blues between both buildings and cars it was both festive and somewhat overwhelming to the Englishman, moreso than the previous South American towns and cities he had so recently visited. None of those buildings and structures appeared to be more than two stories at most, and like most they had seen in that part of the world, all appeared to be affected by the constant humidity and were in various states of run down maintenance, though to be fair it was better kept than many they had encountered to be sure. Also, all the streets which could be seen were paved, and in a good state of repair. There was a definite "tourist" quality to its appearance, as though the town had been built knowing that people would be coming from all over to visit and recreate there. According to what information they were able to find on the internet when they had some spotty service in the towns and cities they stopped in for fuel and food, Turrialba the town boasted a thriving population of thirty five thousand people not including the tourists who came to see the volcano, ziplining park, and the Guayabo ruins nearby.
Although, as they entered the small city, Jim was wondering where everyone was as they passed a University with no one either coming or going. While there were cars parked on the curbs, and awnings stretched out along the storefronts meant for the selling and buying common to Latin American street markets, the town seemed very empty, abandoned even. Also, the further in they went, the more a pall seemed to be cast over it which he couldn't quite explain. There was a cold, chill feeling as the Hilux drove through the seemingly empty streets.
"Where are all the people?" Sam asked, observing the same thing.
"I don't know. There's a deathly feel about this place." Estel replied as he drove slowly.
From his window, Jim looked out at the stores and buildings. Once he thought he saw a brown skinned face peering out from behind a curtain in a window only to have it disappear quickly. That face looked terrified.
"They are nearby." Eltariel announced in a low, grave voice and her entire expression and disposition changed to something which could only be described as "high alert."
"They who?" Jim asked, though he felt he already knew the answer she would give.
"The nazgul." She replied, ominously. "All of them."
"How is that possible?" Estel questioned. "Even they would require some kind of physical transport here, just as our friend in black."
"I don't know, but I know this shadow all too well, edhellen. I fought it more times than I can count. It is the shadow of the ring wraiths." The Elf woman responded.
"Oh no. It's not just them, I'm afraid, dear." Radagast added, his own expression very serious. "Even they could not project this kind of darkness and fear on their own. There are more unnatural things ahead up the mountain, things which should have remained buried."
"What do you mean?" Sam asked, himself already fearing the answer. What more than the nazgul would they have to face?
"I would hesitate to say until we know more for certain. I would not want to frighten you any more than is necessary."
Sam's face however said that it was far too late for that.
They continued to drive through the unnaturally empty yet colorful avenidas and calles. It had the feel of a creepy theme park which had been abandoned as the truck rolled on unchallenged and unmet by anyone. Out his window, Sam too caught glimpses every once in a while of eyes watching them through curtains and blinds. Eyes that were full of fear.
"Where are we going exactly?" Sam then asked, hearing the constant directions being given in Spanish by the feminine voice of a smart phone mounted to the dashboard.
"The message I received said to meet our contact at the park across the street from the San Buenaventura Catholic parish on Avenida Cuatro." Estel answered, referring to the text message he had received in answer after sending a message from the pre-paid smart phone he had recently purchased and activated upon their passage through Panama City.
"How will we know who the contact is?" Sam then questioned.
"Likely because he will be the only one there." Estel retorted, gesturing to the empty streets.
"Right." Sam answered sheepishly.
They continued on like this for several more minutes until they came within view of a garden square within the city marked out by tall, thick green forest trees and a white domed pavilion which had been erected in the center. Across the avenida from the small park was a white stone and brick Roman Catholic church with a tall, white stone and brick bell tower and the white marble figures of four Catholic Saints affixed to rectangular columns marking the entrance. As Jim looked upon the church, he thought there was something distinctively "Gondorian" about its architecture, though of course the thought seemed silly even as he held it.
Estel parked the truck on the curb next to the church and its five occupants got out, stretching their cramped legs for the first time in hours since their last stop for what breakfast they could find. Jim noticed that, as his Numenorean friend got out, he quickly and discreetly checked the pistol in its holster hidden under his seat and then put it on, anchoring the holster above the Kevlar vest he wore under his own button down to just under his left arm. Then, not so discreetly, he retrieved Anduril from where the sword had lain hidden in the truck bed and fixed the strap of its scabbard to his back. Eltariel likewise felt for her twin blades and donned them in their scabbards, barely bothering to check for unfriendly eyes. With the fel chill nearly omnipresent around them, he couldn't say it was a rash thing to do so openly. Seeing his friends do so, the Englishman retrieved the long dagger he had been given and had carried since leaving Cerin Amroth, the priceless Elven made artifact once held by the original ringbearers, Sting. He fixed it to his own belt, and though he knew it was already there, he still felt for the ancient mithril shirt beneath his light button down and undershirt. Radagast's gnarled wooden staff appeared in his hands, and, taking his cue from the others, Sam retrieved the Kevlar vest which had been given him, and an additional pistol from the truck which Estel had taught him how to use went between his own belt and pants.
There was a sense of finality about the party now. No more pretending to be tourists. No more hiding. It was time to do what they had journeyed for over a month to accomplish. It was time to bring all things to an end.
When all had sufficently armed themselves, they crossed the street and entered the green, well manicured park square. Like the rest of the town, the square itself appeared to be empty, except as they drew closer to the domed pavilion, they saw one man dressed in what looked to be modern soldier's fatigues with body armor in a camouflage pattern suited for forest. In his hands was a very modern looking assault rifle, but strapped to his back was a compound bow and quiver full of arrows. A short sword in a black scabbard was strapped to his right thigh. He did not appear to be Latin American however, but of a darker haired European descent.
The party stopped briefly upon seeing the man, and then he turned exposing the insignia of a flag on his upper right arm. That flag was of a dark purple hue and even from that distance clearly depicted a white tree with seven stars around it.
It was the insignia of Gondor, and as he turned, they could all clearly make out the man's features.
"Gondeg!" Estel called out, approaching his cousin.
Hearing Estel's voice, Gondeg turned to face them with a huge grin on his otherwise serious and concerned face. He gave them a salute with a fist to his chest, and then upon seeing his cousin draw near and stand in front of him, his face became somber and reverent, and his dropped to one knee in front of him.
"Your majesty." Gondeg addressed him, but there was no humor or irony in his voice as he spoke. "We have assembled as instructed."
"Get up, cousin. I'm no different now than I was two months ago." Estel chastised him, but there was no sting in his own tone of voice.
As the armed soldier rose, Estel embraced him warmly saying, "It's good to see you."
"And you, cousin." Gondeg returned the embrace. "Though I wish it were in more pleasant surroundings. It's been like this since we arrived three days ago. The people in the town were already too fearful to leave their homes when we got here. Padre Jorge at the church across the street will explain more. He has been of a tremendous help to us."
"How many have come?" Estel asked soberly.
"It's best if you see for yourself." Gondeg replied gravely.
"I see." Estel answered. "What do we know of what we're facing?"
"Let's all head inside the church, I'll explain on the way." Estel's cousin said.
The five plus Gondeg then all turned back towards San Buenaventura and its white stone walls. Gondeg talked as they walked.
"Our scouts have counted close to five hundred armed men up the road closer to the caldera of the volcano. They've established a camp. According to Padre Jorge they began arriving through town three weeks ago. Most of them appear to be mercenaries, thugs, and whatever lowlifes would answer the enemy's call. They've got some decent hardware, an old Apache helicopter, some trucks like yours with rear mounted machine guns. Nothing we haven't dealt with before. There's a second camp of them farther west along the highway leading to the Irazu volcano's caldera as well." Gondeg told him.
"The wraith couldn't know which caldera we intended to use." Estel observed. "It wanted to be certain."
"That was our thinking too." Gondeg agreed. "But the men aren't the real threat, as I'm certain you have noticed from the chill in the air. There's more than one of the wraiths. Our people have counted a total of eight. Four at the camp up near Turrialba's caldera, and four at Irazu's. And there's more to be concerned about."
"So we have been warned." Estel answered, glancing back at his wizard friend.
Gondeg stopped where he was and looked his kinsman dead in the eyes as he said, "The dead have been walking the streets of the town at night, cousin."
"The dead?" Estel asked, the chill in the air creeping down his spine.
"Padre Jorge said they appeared a week ago, though no one is certain from where. Hundreds of them. They come after the last light of the sun and leave before dawn. They walk the streets of the town scaring the residents so badly that they will not leave their homes. Even the local authorities are too frightened to step foot outside. A few of the townspeople from his parish have gone missing according to the priest, and so have many of the tourists who have ventured out at night." The Numenorean man's voice was somber and serious. "Shooting them and hacking them apart doesn't stop them. We've taken to patrolling the streets at night with torches and flame throwers we brought with us and acquired since we arrived. We found the first night that burning them is the only way to destroy them, but more returned the second night. They aren't fond of bright light either, but it does little more than make them flee."
Estel took this information into consideration as they continued across the street and up the steps to the entry doors of the church beyond the white marble statues of the Saints. With some trepidation as to how many, or how few, he would find inside he opened the doors and walked through followed by his cousin, and then the rest of his traveling companions.
And the sight which met his eyes nearly brought tears to them.
The church's halls and facilities were filled with people, most of whom resembled himself in some way. There were hundreds of men and women who had answered his call, all of them wearing the same fatigues, body armor, and insignia which Gondeg sported. They were cleaning weapons, preparing meals, resting, making plans, and so on. And not just men, there were Elvenkind! Dozens that he saw, though he couldn't be sure of the exact count. And every person who saw him enter with his party dropped to one knee as he passed.
"Did every one of our kinsmen respond?" Estel questioned his cousin in disbelief.
"Very nearly. There were those who were too young to take the oath. A very few attempted to respond but were too infirm for combat for their rather advanced age. They are now caring for the estate in our absence, with your leave of course." Gondeg replied.
"Of course. Granted. Absolutely." Estel replied, stunned at the response.
"I know of no one who refused the summons outright, cousin." Gondeg then told him. "Some went to great lengths and personal cost to be here." The Numenorean then gestured towards two figures standing near a table which had been set up with meal rations.
One was a younger looking man in fatigues, who like the others saluted with his fist and bowed low. Estel was certain he hadn't met him before, but he looked familiar like a sailor he had seen recently aboard the Marie Antoinette. And standing next to him was a very familiar, French speaking dwarven ship's captain sporting a massive, dwarven forged battle ax.
"Bonjour, mon ami!" Francois greeted his old friend. "Or shall we say, votre Majeste." And then he too took one knee in front of him.
"But what about your ship? Your commission?" Estel protested, though he was also overjoyed to see him.
"There are some things more important in life, votre Majeste. I couldn't let you or this boy charge into battle by yourselves, now could I? Non monsieur. Not this dwarf." Francois replied. "Not when I still owe you my own skin. I left the ship in the hands of the first mate and brought the boy and myself over by helicopter. They have instructions to report me missing if I'm not back in a few days from now. Je suppose it will be all over by then, one way or the other."
Estel was nearly speechless at the devotion and friendship of his old friend, and had difficulty not tearing up as he looked on him with gratitude, and clasped both his arm and the arm of his previously unmet kinsman. Moving on there were others he recognized and many he didn't. All those he knew from Cerin Amroth were present, even aged Father Adalbert whom he saw conferring with a shorter, Latin American man in black clerics and white collar was there in military fatigues though sporting a gold cross at the lapel.
He stopped before his cousin and the Costa Rican priest whom he addressed in Spanish with a slight bow of his head in respect, "Padre Jorge, thank you so much for allowing us the use of your church. I know it must be disturbing to have so many armed men and women within its walls, I promise…"
"Señor Aragorn," The priest interrupted in the same language gesturing with his palms up and using Estel's true given name, "you and your very large and unusual family are very welcome here." The priest replied in sincerity. "They have been like the very angels of God protecting the people of our town from these devils since they arrived and running food and aid to as many as they can. I don't know why all this is happening to us, but any assistance I can give is yours."
Estel winced slightly upon hearing his given name spoken out loud so freely, especially with the Spanish appellation which literally meant "lord." He hid his discomfort however as well as he could. "It is much appreciated, Padre. I hope we can bring a swift end to these troubles afflicting your town soon."
"As do I, your majesty." Came a feminine voice the entire party recognized, though she spoke in clear, accented English.
Estel turned upon hearing her voice to find his grandmother, the Lady Arwen in combat fatigues and body armor no different than any other present. A compound bow was strapped to her back along with a quiver of arrows, and a long sword of Elven manufacture accompanied it. She had taken one knee in front of him as Gondeg and the others had done.
"Grandmother, you have no need to bow to me or to anyone." Estel told her, his face flushed.
"I bow to the rightful King of Gondor, my hope." Arwen replied.
"But why have you come? Who is protects Cerin Amroth if not you?" Estel asked her, even as he bid her to rise.
"If we do not see this through, my hope, there will be no more Cerin Amroth." She answered. "I swore to serve Gondor upon my own coronation as her queen eight thousand years before you were born. In that respect, I am bound by my oath, and no different than anyone else here. I am also the one who taught you the art of warfare, or have you forgotten? Besides, I still wield Nenya, and we need all the advantage we can get against this darkness."
Her violet eyes would brook no argument from him, and he conceded.
"Grandmother has been instrumental in driving back the dead from the town during the night, your majesty." Father Adalbert informed him.
Just then, Arwen went to welcome the other four who had come with Estel, Eltariel, Jim, Sam, and Radagast for whom she held a great smile as she said, "Wise one, it has been a very long time."
"Indeed it has, young lady." Radagast returned with his own grandfatherly smile for her. "The last I saw, you didn't even reach my waist, and look how you've grown! The little girl who liked to hear about my tales of the wild has become a lovely young woman."
Arwen grinned girlishly in reply. "It has been nearly eleven thousand years, wise one."
"So it has." The brown wizard answered. "I suppose even little Elf girls grow up, don't they?"
"We do indeed." Arwen responded.
Jim and Sam both watched the whole proceeding with as much if not more astonishment than their Numenorean friend. Around them was gathered not just a family, and not just a few dozen, but an entire host of armed men and women wearing the flag of a nation which had not existed for thousands of years; a nation which until just a few months before they had thought entirely fictional. And every one of them had come at the call of their rightful king to fulfill an oath which they might not have thought would ever come. As he watched and listened around him he heard every possible European language being spoken by them, including his own native English, as well as their own ancient Elvish tongue. There were light haired Elves, and dark haired men, there was French, German, Spanish, English, and Italian all sharing common cause. Here was a representation of a Europe truly united under one banner and common cause with one king to lead them. It was a Europe born of a single family dedicated to defending it, and on their honor they came when asked by a king the rest of the world didn't recognize to possibly lay down their lives not just for their own countries, or Europe itself, but for the whole world. What extraordinary people, what an extraordinary bloodline they were! Indeed, the strength found in the Men of the West had not wavered throughout the eons. Not one bit. Here was the evidence of it, right here in front of them.
Both Englishmen felt no little amount of awe at what was transpiring, and of what they had come to be an integral part.
"So, er…" Jim began, addressing Estel. "What now? What's the plan?"
Estel turned to Jim, and as he did, the Englishman noticed a change about him. He seemed even taller, and his shoulders more broad then they had been before. There was a weight that had settled over him, a mantle which brought about a further regal quality.
"First, we get you, Sam, Eltariel, and I properly equipped for our task." Estel told him, gesturing to the uniforms and armor the rest were wearing. "Then, we discuss tactics and address our kinsmen."
It was slight, it might have been a slip of the tongue, but Jim caught it nonetheless. "Our kinsmen?"
"Whatever happens after this, you and Sam both are my kinsmen, and part of our family." Estel replied with a sincerity which touched them both. "You both will always have a home among the Dunedain."
"Well, er… um… I, er… don't know what to say." Jim replied, becoming emotional at his proclamation. And then it dawned on him that it was not mere sentiment. These words were coming from the man the Numenoreans recognized as their sovereign king.
"You need say nothing, either of you." Estel replied. "But time is now not on our side."
"He's right." Eltariel spoke up. "If the nazgul was tracking us by means of the ring, he has to know its closer now than it has been for the last month. It will not be long before they strike first."
"Right. Back to business then." Jim recovered himself, oddly thankful for the sobering reminder of being tracked by the ghoulish, undead killer.
Two hours later…
The polished wooden pews of the sanctuary were packed with soldiers in camouflage uniforms and body armor. Those who could not find a seat stood around the whitewashed walls in between the white columns and under the stations of the cross. All of them bore the flag of Gondor on their uniforms, and all of them waited patiently for their king to address them.
Jim and Sam sat in the very front pew on the left hand side facing the altar of the church. As Estel had promised, they had exchanged their traveling clothes for camouflage colored fatigues and body armor which the Numenoreans had brought with them. Jim had asked where all the weapons, heavy Kevlar vests and padding, and other pieces of their gear had come from, and had been told that Arwen had been keeping it in reserve for a day like this in storage hidden underground on her estate, replacing it and updating it through the years as needed. She had planned for a host of a thousand strong initially based on her records, and even when those numbers dwindled, maintained it just in case the extra might be needed. It had all been distributed as private luggage in locked containers among those who responded directly to Cerin Amroth, with the remainder transported as excess baggage as they flew on private aircraft as well as any last minute passage on the commercial airlines which could be bought in between Brussels and San Jose. She had well over seven hundred people to transport along with their supplies and equipment, and she found ways to bring every last one of them over the Atlantic on time regardless of the cost. She spared nothing from her family's fortune to ensure all were as equipped for this final confrontation as they could be. They were also incredibly fortunate that they had not been forced to layover in any airports in the United States where their luggage would have been much more heavily scrutinized.
Both Jim and Sam now carried loaded pistols holstered at their hips as well as an assortment of gadgets and implements which would look more appropriate on a soldier or policeman than a bookshop owner and grocer. Sam carried one of those short swords strapped to his thigh like the others, while Jim fingered the hilt of the Elvish dagger he wore at his belt, well aware of its symbolism and its place in history. It was a hidden history that he would now become a part of, with, or without Professor Tolkien to translate and report it. He wondered why fate had chosen him, or rather, why the ring had chosen him to see this through.
Like its predecessor, the ring certainly appeared to have its own mind about things, but unlike its predecessor, that mind did not appear to be inherently evil or malevolent. There were times it appeared to even be beneficial, forcing him to wear it so he would see what was truly happening around him. The only time it truly felt threatening was when it attempted to return to its phantasmic master and creator in that French field. But then, Celebrimbor both begged for the ring to be destroyed and attempted to take it back for himself. He wondered briefly if somehow Celebrimbor's own essence within the ring had sought him out for some reason. Of course, the thought was silly, but still.
After all were assembled, and with the blessing and permission of Padre Jorge, Estel began to speak to the host of Gondor in Exile. Like the others, he too had changed into the clothing and armaments of modern warfare. The only thing which appeared out of place was the two handed sword Anduril which rested in its scabbard on his back.
"My kinsmen," he began, "For those who have never seen my face before, I am Aragorn Elessar, forty ninth of that name, heir of Elendil, Isildur, Elessar, and Eldarion, chieftain of the Dunedain and king of Gondor in Exile." He then held up his left hand clearly displaying the ring of Barahir, the signet of Elendil's line. "I cannot tell you how much it fills my heart to see you all here and now in answer to my summons. Those of you who know me well know that I would not have invoked the oath if there had been any other way. Many if not most of you came without even knowing the extreme import of our mission here to this land which was forbidden to us by our ancestor, King Elendil. It is true that I have broken a prohibition which was put in place thousands of years even before ancient Gondor fell, and summoned you to break it along with me, giving none of you a real choice in the matter. For this, I take full responsibility here and now before this altar of Eru Iluvatar incarnate and all those kings who have proceeded me. May this guilt lie with me, and me alone. But there is good reason, I assure you."
There were a few murmurs from those seated and those standing, some nods of approval, some skeptical expressions, but all appeared willing to continue to hear their kinsman's reasons. Estel then motioned for Jim to join him where he stood in front of the altar, but well beyond the railing where only priests and altar servers may go. Jim, expecting this, rose from the front pew where he sat and joined his friend.
"Show them, my friend." Estel told him.
Jim then pulled the ring and the necklace which held it out from under his shirt and over his head, dangling it from his raised, closed hand so all present could see its unearthly silvery blue light.
"The ring of Celebrimbor has been found." Estel announced. "The second ring of domination which was forged unknown to the rest of Middle Earth over a century before the destruction of Sauron's ring in the fires of Orodruin."
There were audible gasps and whispers as the ring was held up for everyone to see. Eyes went wide, and serious expressions darkened many faces as they came to put together the reason for their martial gathering. There were still some few from the younger generations who did not fully grasp the meaning of it, but those that did, that remembered the second world war, and their own participation or their parents' or grandparents' participation in the hunt for this piece of jewelry, the gravity of the moment was palpable and tangible in the sanctuary.
"We are here at the base of the Turrialba volcano to see this ring destroyed as well. In the most ancient of times, before the sinking of our ancestral homeland of Numenor, this volcano was the forge of the great smith of the Valar, Aule. We cannot throw this ring into the fires where it was forged, because Orodruin is long gone. We cannot risk throwing it into the fires of another mountain such as Etna for the danger to the surrounding towns and cities. Our only recourse is to destroy it in the ancient forge of the Valar themselves, and pray that it is still strong enough to withstand the release of the power contained within the ring. This is why we have broken Elendil's ancient prohibition and set foot in the remnants of ancient Valinor."
Estel watched as understanding and acceptance spread over the faces of his kinsmen.
"As many of you have now experienced, we are not the only ones interested in the fate of this ring. Were it so, my companions and I would have seen it done over a month ago, and none of you would have had to leave your jobs, families, or lives. As the ring has been found, so have the ring wraiths resurfaced, and they have massed a host to rival ours in opposition to the destruction of this last reminder of our ancient enemy. Many of you have already seen what they are capable of, and you should know that they will stop at nothing to claim this ring for themselves. If they do, the second world war will be a fond and delightful memory in comparison with what will follow. This cannot be allowed to happen."
There were many murmurs of agreement, and he could see he had their full and undivided attention.
"Our plan will be similar to that of our ancestors before us. Jim Frudd, Samuel Ogden, and Eltariel will take the ring to the caldera while the rest of us assault the enemy's base camp head on. We will draw their full attention while the ringbearers take it and throw it into the depths of the volcano where it will be destroyed. We will not be foolish with it. Unlike our ancestors, we do not fight without the expectation of survival. Their forces are already split between the two mountains, and it will take time for their own reinforcements to make the trip once we begin the attack. We will have forces positioned on the roads to waylay them once they come within sight, and weapons ready against the attack helicopters I have been briefed on. The plan is to patrol the town streets again tonight, and then strike the enemy base camp an hour after dawn. Even with the sun covered by the clouds, the wraiths will still be weaker during the daylight hours, and at their full strength during the night. Essence of Kingsfoil has been distributed to all of you in the event you are attacked by one of the wraiths' weapons, and if it hasn't, let Autharan or Langlas know and it will be. The Lady Arwen has provided us with Cerin Amroth's entire reserve supply for this moment, but do not waste it."
More nods of agreement and understanding followed from those who heard him.
"Finally, I have asked Father Adalbert and Padre Jorge to say Mass for us before the night falls, and to ask for Iluvatar's blessing upon our endeavor, and his protection upon us all. Tonight and tomorrow, we fight once more against the forces of darkness that seek to twist and corrupt Iluvatar's song of creation. Make no mistake, we are here to end the hated legacy of Morgoth and Sauron once and for all, and to set free all those still trapped by Celebrimbor's prideful mistake. As we stand here today in the remnants of ancient Valinor, let us not forget the faith of our fathers and ancestors who chose to remain faithful to Iluvatar and the Valar. Let us not forget what led them to reject Ar-Pharazon's blasphemous heresy and continue their faith in all that is holy, right, and true. Let us remember their fight against Sauron's tyranny and corruption of our world. And let us not forget the fulfillment of the ancient promise to Men that Iluvatar would Himself be born as a Man and walk among us. At this time, and every time hence, let us remember that we are the heirs of Numenor, and Lothlorien, and are true Men of the West! And let all those enemies of Eru Iluvatar never forget it!" With these last words, Estel drew Anduril, the sword of the king, from its scabbard on his back and held it aloft for all to see.
There had been a palpable building of energy around the sanctuary as Estel spoke until his final words erupted from his lips, and the entire sanctuary erupted in raised fists and cheers. Every Numenorean, Elf, and those not who were present were on their feet, charged and ready for the upcoming fight they all knew was inevitable. As they did, one cry began to drown out the others as it was picked up by all, "ELESSAR, ELESSAR, ELESSAR!"
Estel, hearing them chant his middle name, the royal name of his ancestor, felt both honored and disturbed at the accolade. He then quietly and humbly lowered Anduril, and, turning to face the altar, himself knelt on one knee in submission before it and the crucifix beyond it. He then placed the sword in both his hands and presented it before the altar as an offering.
"By your leave, my Lord." He then said prayerfully in a low voice.
Seeing their king in such an act of submission, the rest of the congregation followed suit, going to their own knees quietly and prayerfully as Padre Jorge and Father Adalbert began the Mass using the Latin, "In Nomine Patri, et Filii, et Spiritu Sancti, Amen."