Note: evil, evil me. I just found out (which means I didn't even know he had one son for sure. I mean your nephew or cousin can still be an heir right?) that Isildur had FOUR sons in three different reference sites. The only one's name I know though is Valandil, the youngest who apparently was born in Imladris (which is another name for Rivendell. I atleast KNEW that before now) Oh well, no matter how hard I try, I have found that Isildur was married but not her name. That presents a problem, especially since it is currently 3:20 a.m. (really 2:20 because of Daylight Savings time, but you get the picture, as this chapter will revolve around her identity (atleast I think so, not quite sure yet). So if you know her name, or their sons names, could you please leave it in a review? Thank-you so much. For now her name will be Jazabelle because I found it is a name for a high-ranking Gondorian woman on a unreliable website. I don't think I'll write a very long chapter involving herself right after she gets married, until I get a little more info. I realize this chpter is shorter than the note, you must realize I fall asleep while writing it. Longer chapters soon, but until then I'm afraid there will be ton of short ones.
My name was, and still is to a certain extent, Jazabelle. It was too fancy a name, though for a young girl, even a girl of nobility such as me, so I used to shorten it to Jaz. Needless to say, my parents hated it, and me, for a week afterwards but they quickly found that, once an idea was stuck in an eaight-year old's mind, it is incredibly hard to displace. My sister first taught me that, when she told me I should call my parents by their first names, so to bug them. It was our secret though, so they never found out it was her idea. They didn't love the idea, nor did they hate it, so it stuck for about 4 months, till I was eaight and a half and my sister and her new husband had disapeered after the wedding. I was left all alone then, and I needed a mommy and daddy, even ones so rash as mine. I need an identity for myself, I was forever my sister's sister, and while I could never change that, I wished to expand it. Like I have already said, I took to the library, books and their languages and taught them to myself. More like they taught me. It was more or less my secret, bribing the servants was hard work, but when my sister taught me something, she used to teach me well. My dear sister, where are you now? Are you buried deep beneath the ground, or do you still breathe, still talk? Are you the same? You could have been there, the day Isildur was crowned, a bittersweet day but family is always invited, but you didn't show up. Were you even in the crowds watching? Are you ashamed of me? I'll never know such things, at least before I die, so there really s no point pondering them. I'll know soon enough, if there is an after life for poor bedraggled people such as me.
Directly after getting married, I remember being swamped and having a feeling that everything was not right. For some reason, the fact that Isildur lied and called himself a monk didn't bother me as much as I would have thought. Even. My parents failed to incredibly irk me. Don't get me wrong, I was irked, certainly. Here I was starting a marriage with a complete stranger and he had already lied to me. But it was the crowds that got me the most.