Land of the King
Chapter 35: The Road to Civil War
His queen had been a fair and noble lady, but short-lived according to the fate of lesser men, and the Dúnedain feared that her descendants would prove the same and fall from the majesty of the Kings of Men.
- Lord of the Rings, Appendix A
3030 E.L.
He was dressed entirely in black. In some cultures, to wear black and only black meant you were grieving. Black symbolized grief, symbolized mourning, and anguish.
It was to be expected after all, Arvedui had always known that his mother would die long before he did, but it had still been painful to see her growing old and frail before his very eyes, wilting away like a flower beneath the sun.
A knock on the door pulled Arvedui from his brooding.
"Are you alright?" Firiel asked?
Unlike his mother, the years had left Firiel completely unchanged, as beautiful as the day he had met her, just as Arvedui himself was. They were after all descendants of Elendil. Thirty years was little to those who had centuries to live. Yet for lesser men like his mother, thirty years could be the difference between one's prime of life and the frailty and senility of old age.
"I'll be fine, eventually."
Firiel looked like she wished to speak more but thought better of it, before she embraced him gently.
Arvedui had long prided himself on his strength, but when she wrapped her arms around him, he let the tears fall as he buried himself in her embrace.
"It's time to go, Arvedui."
It was his father who said the eulogy for his mother and led the funeral rites. King Araphant was not even three hundred years old, but his wife's death had hit him hard and he seemed to have aged a hundred years more in the past few days.
As her only child, Arvedui was the one who carried her urn. There would be no statue for Lyarra Stark, no likeness of her to remember her by, only memories and one day Arvedui feared those would be gone too.
Tradition had long demanded that only the Kings of Arnor were honoured with a tomb in the Houses of the Dead along the Rath Dínen, where their Founder, Elendil had been buried. Other members of the Royal House were buried in other crypts, with no statues to conserve space. Yet it was not his mother's wish to be buried there, or anywhere. Lyarra Stark's last wishes had been for her ashes to be scattered to the winds.
Yet even as her funeral was still ongoing, even before her loved ones had said their farewells to her, the enemies of Lyarra were already gleeful that she had died. Yet at the same time, many were also troubled by her death.
Arvedui could hear it, feel it. Though they were careful to be discreet in their whispers, though some said nothing at all, he knew what the Purists thought.
So she has died.
Good riddance I would say.
Yet her death is concerning, would her son die the same way, much too young?
After the funeral had ended, most of the attendants left, not wishing to tarry around any longer than they had to for the funeral of someone they saw lesser. Arvedui, his father, Firiel, and a few other close family and friends went to fulfill her last wishes. They were perhaps the only ones who had truly cared for Lyarra and did not attend her funeral only because politics demanded it.
They stood upon a balcony, overlooking the Sunset Sea, the namesake of which was on the horizon, the light of the sun fading away slowly from the world.
Millennia ago, another Queen of Arnor had thrown herself to her death upon the rocks below and now Arvedui and his father would scatter the ashes of another.
Opening the urn, each of them grabbed a few handfuls and slowly began releasing it into the wind. A gentle, calming breeze came at that moment, rustling the leaves of the White Tree and blowing away the last remnants of Lyarra Stark.
Goodbye Mother.
The next day, Arvedui distracted himself from brooding over his mother's death by sparring in the yard.
Kevan was there, as were Artamir, Faramir, and Minohtar. The past thirty years, the five of them had become the greatest of friends and that was perhaps because the other three did not look down on Arvedui and Kevan for their mixed heritage like many others did.
Uneven as they were, Artamir, Faramir, and Minohtar had formed one team against Arvedui and Kevan. Years of training alongside each other meant that Arvedui and Kevan knew each other's moves and styles and they were in perfect coordination as they weaved in and out between the blades of their foes.
Ultimately however, they were too outmatched and yielded the bout. Artamir, Faramir and Minohtar after all, were no less coordinated. Usually Argeleb would be in the yard as well to make up the numbers but he was conspicuously absent on that day.
"Where is Argeleb? He's not one to miss a bout," Arvedui asked.
"We're not sure. We haven't seen him either," Minohtar answered.
"That's strange. It's rare to find that he's not in the yard."
"Maybe he simply did not feel like training today?" Faramir put int.
"If he was the kind of person to forego his training for such a weak reason, he would not have ever become the warrior he is now. Something is up," Arvedui said, rejecting Faramir's suggestion.
"Perhaps he is mourning the recent death in your family?" Kevan said.
"That does not make much sense either, he and my mother were hardly close."
"It doesn't matter. If Argeleb does not want to train today, that's his problem. We'll ask him later. Until then, I want to make use of the opportunity to train a little without him around to easily defeat all of us," Artamir interjected.
"Competitive are we?" Faramir teased his brother.
"You would be too if you failed to beat the same person over a hundred times in a row."
"That goes for all of us here. Only Arvedui can claim to have beaten Argeleb," Minohtar rebutted.
"Hardly. My cousin is by far the better warrior. I've simply been able to take him by surprise a few times."
With the conversation lasting too long, Arvedui then reprimanded his friends and told them they should get back to training, but in the back of his mind, he remained very troubled by Argeleb's absence in the yard.
"Uncle, listen to me!" Arvedui heard Argeleb yelling.
"Enough Argeleb, one more word about this matter and you will never see Arnor again! I thought you were better than this."
Arvedui had heard shouts coming from his father's solar and had come to investigate.
"What is going on? Why are you arguing?" he asked.
Argeleb would not look him in the eyes.
"Go on. Tell your cousin, or I will."
"Ar… Arvedui, it was troubling to many of us when we saw how quickly your mother faded away. I was only suggesting…."
"Suggesting what?" Arvedui demanded.
Argeleb sighed, "The people and the lords would feel more secure if the heir was not one whom they fear would prove to be like his mother."
Arvedui understood immediately what his cousin meant and the disgust and betrayal he felt was overpowering.
"Another heir would need to be chosen then. Who else but you?" Arvedui asked, his voice dangerously calm.
Argeleb nodded carefully.
Arvedui continued, "I see. I thought you were better than this Argeleb, I really did."
All of a sudden, Arvedui swung a punch at his cousin's face, knocking him to the side and giving him a nasty bruise. Yet Argeleb was not going down without a fight and he started fighting back.
"Enough! Stop this now or Eru forbid me, I will disinherit both of you!" Araphant commanded.
Bruised and bleeding, the two of them backed down and stood at attention before him.
Standing imposing before them, in that moment, Araphant was not their father or uncle, but their King.
"You are Princes of Arnor. Not squabbling brats with petty feuds. Arnor can ill afford dissension like this, put it aside now."
"Yes Your Majesty," they chorused.
"Go on, apologize to each other," the king commanded and they did so begrudgingly.
"Forgive me for doubting your right to rule cousin," Argeleb said.
"I'm sorry as well, for hitting you," Arvedui replied, clenching his fist and jaw.
"Good. I do not want to hear word of any more fights like this between the two of you outside the training yard. You're dismissed Argeleb, there are matters I wish to discuss with my heir," Araphant ordered.
When Argeleb left, Araphant turned to Arvedui and commanded him to take a seat.
"Sit."
He obeyed.
"I will not blame you for feeling betrayed that your cousin even thought of this, but the manner in which you reacted is unacceptable for a king Arvedui. Make it up to him, as much as you can. It will not end well if your actions drive him away," Araphant said, making Arvedui feel foolish.
"I understand father."
"But I am also troubled. It is clear that he has been harbouring thoughts like this for some time. I fear it may already be too late."
Arvedui was aghast, "Do you think he might rebel?"
Even with what he had just heard, Arvedui could not so easily believe that his cousin had it in him to rebel against his rightful king.
"I am not sure. I hope that I am wrong. How goes your courtship of Lady Firiel?"
"Well Father, I hope to marry her one day."
"Why not marry her now?" Araphant asked.
"Her grandfather, Lord Calimehtar forbade it. He refuses to give me her hand when you spurned his daughter, Lady Aredhel, to marry Mother."
"Ahh I see. I do not regret it, but I can understand why he would still be upset about that. And I cannot command him to give you her hand without seeming like a tyrant. Does Lord Ondoher share his father's opinion?"
"I do not believe so. He has raised no complaint to our relationship and has hinted that he would arrange our marriage once he becomes Lord of Minas Anor. Besides Ondoher, I have befriended both of Firiel's brothers as well as her cousin Minohtar."
"The son of Lady Aredhel?" Araphant queried.
"That is correct."
"You have done well in forming these relationships. The Anárionath are an old and powerful house, their support for you will secure your reign and it will combat the influence of Minas Ithil."
Arvedui grimaced. While he had some trust still in his cousin, the same could not be said for his mother Luthiel or her house. It should have felt comforting that Minas Anor was supporting him against the power and influence of its twin, yet Arvedui was also painfully aware of what had happened the last time Minas Anor and Minas Ithil had found themselves on opposite sides of a conflict.
Arnor had not faced a true civil war since the War of the Three Brothers. Arvedui refused to let it suffer another.
"I swear Father, I will not allow our kingdom to fall into civil war."
"I'm afraid it may be too late for that already my son. The question is, are you prepared to do what needs to be done if war does erupt?"
Arvedui could not answer that question.
"It is believed by historians that though they had been close in their youth, the relationship between Prince Arvedui and his cousin was irreparably damaged by the argument they had had.
Though neither wished ill of the other openly, their once brotherly camaraderie was gone and observers at court noted with unease, the growing tension between the pair.
The Purist Faction believing that Argeleb was the true heir, rallied around him. On the other spectrum, the Reformists gathered around Arvedui and rebranded themselves as the Loyalists, those loyal to who, they claimed as the rightful and lawful heir, in a move that many thought to be an attempt to claim more legitimacy.
King Araphant was completely powerless to stop the formation of factions in his own court. Having failed to prevent factionalism from dividing Arnor, he began giving what many believed to be preferential treatment to the Reformists in an attempt to discreetly strengthen his son's faction and weaken the Purists that sought to oppose them.
This however was seen as provocative and unfair to the Purists and further widened the rift between the two factions. Moderates on both sides were soon forced by their respective factions to stop cooperating with each other as the factions' distrust of each other grew more and more. Soon there was gridlock in the Council of the Sceptre and only the royal command of King Araphant and the reluctance of the two princes to commit to any conflict kept the factions from going to war.
In the year 3100, Arvedui married Lady Firiel of Minas Anor, a year after the passing of her grandfather who was noted to be opposed to the match. Only two months later, Prince Argeleb married Morwen of Hyarmenna, a descendant of Prince Celeborn, the second of Celepharn the Conquerer, who was given rule over the city. The marriage was without the King's permission.
As nephew of the King, Argeleb did not technically require his uncle's blessing yet it was still expected of him to gain it. That he did not even attempt to do so was a clear sign to all of the disunity in the Royal House.
It was not long before the two princes had sons of their own. Aranarth, born 3118, and Anducar, born 3126, to Prince Arvedui and Arantar, Orodreth, and Barahir, born to Prince Argeleb in the years 3102, 3113, and 3125, respectively. A daughter, Princess Amarië was also born to Prince Argeleb in 3130.
While there was distrust between Arvedui and Argeleb, remnants of the close bond they had once shared still prevailed and the two maintained some form of mutual respect for the other. The same however could not be said of their sons, of whom there was only strife amongst.
Consequently, when King Araphant finally died in 3149, all of Arnor took a deep breath in anticipation. The deep breath before the plunge… into civil war.
Author's Note: As you can see, preparing for a war to ensure your side wins is easier said than done. Araphant's attempt was discovered by the Purists and seen as provocative and perhaps the very act of preparing for war lead to war in the first place.
Finally, after so many chapters of foreshadowing, of ominous tones, of buildup and preparation, we arrive at last at the long awaited arc.
