of Tar - Vorondar
The Tale of Tar - Vorondar
In the later days of Númenor, when the hearts of men were torn between the light of the Valar and the shadow of pride, there rose a king whose name would endure in the annals of legend, for he was called Tar-Vorondar, son of Tar-Palantir. He was known also as Vorondaion, the Faithful Son, for he was steadfast in his devotion to Eru Ilúvatar and to the ancient ways of Númenor. In a time when the King's Men held sway over the isle, and the Faithful were but a dwindling remnant, Tar-Vorondar stood as a beacon of light, unyielding in his purpose.
Born in the waning years of his father's reign, Tar-Vorondar grew under the watchful eye of Tar-Palantir, who in his wisdom and foresight saw the doom that awaited Númenor should the hearts of its people turn fully toward darkness. In the shadow of the growing pride of the Númenóreans, Tar-Palantir sought to keep alive the memory of the ancient covenants with the Valar, and he instructed his son in the ways of the Eldar and the wisdom of the Valar, teaching him that only through humility and reverence could Númenor endure the trials that lay ahead.
When Tar-Palantir passed into the West, Tar-Vorondar ascended to the throne, though his claim was contested by the King's Men, who had turned away from the ways of the Faithful and sought dominion over all the world. Yet Tar-Vorondar was a king of both wisdom and might, and through his strength of will and mastery in diplomacy, he united the people of Númenor under his banner. And in his heart, his gaze turned to the East, where the shadow of Sauron the Deceiver spread ever further, swallowing the lands of Eriador and Rhovanion. The Dark Lord's power seemed unassailable, for from his dark tower of Barad-dûr, crowned with iron and wreathed in flame, Sauron sent forth his hosts to conquer all in his name.
But Tar-Vorondar, though he saw the shadow rising, was not moved to fear, for he knew that the free peoples of Middle-earth would not be forgotten. With the strength of Númenor behind him, he gathered a great host, and with him came Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor, whose banners of starlight shone in the gloom. Together, they sailed the seas, bringing with them warriors clad in gleaming mail and armed with blades that caught the light of the West. And the strength of Númenor, mingled with the might of the Eldar, struck at the heart of Sauron's legions, their victories echoing across the land.
But though the armies of Númenor were victorious, Sauron's arrogance remained. He mocked the challenge of Númenor, believing his own power unbreakable, and sent his forces forth to meet the men and elves in battle. Yet Tar-Vorondar, wise and cunning in war, did not rush headlong into battle. He struck with strategy and guile, drawing Sauron's armies into traps and feigned retreats, luring them into places where they could be overwhelmed. And so, the tide of war shifted, for Númenor's forces grew ever stronger.
In time, the battle drew near to Barad-dûr itself, and there Sauron gathered his strength. But Tar-Vorondar, ever clever in his ways, devised a plan to draw forth the Dark Lord's armies. He disguised a company of Númenórean warriors as deserters, and through them, word was spread that Gil-galad's strength had been broken. When Sauron believed victory was assured, he moved to crush the remnants of his foes. But Tar-Vorondar and Gil-galad, their forces united, sprung their trap. And in the plains before the Dark Tower, the armies of Númenor and the Eldar met the forces of Mordor in a clash that would echo throughout all the ages.
There, in the very shadow of Barad-dûr, Tar-Vorondar earned his name in the hearts of both Men and Elves. With his blade Alcarandil, the Flame of Númenor, he carved his way through the chaos of battle, and at last, he stood before Sauron himself. The Dark Lord, terrible in his power, met Tar-Vorondar with the full force of his malice, but the Faithful Son was undaunted. His blade burned bright with the light of the West, and in the clash of their mighty blows, it seemed as though a force beyond his own strength was upon him. The very light of the Valar seemed to gird his arm and steel his heart, and with every strike, Sauron was driven back.
But the Dark Lord was great and fell not easily. In the midst of their battle, Sauron struck a grievous blow, and Tar-Vorondar fell to his knees. Yet even in his final moments, the Faithful Son raised one last time, plunging it into the dark heart of Sauron. With a terrible cry, Sauron's form was shattered, and his spirit fled into the dark. The armies of Mordor, bereft of their master, crumbled and scattered, and the free peoples of Middle-earth were victorious.
In that hour, Gil-galad knelt beside the fallen king, and the High King of the Noldor wept, for he had lost a friend as noble as any that had ever lived. Yet even as his body was borne back to Númenor, Tar-Vorondar's name was sung in the halls of Men and Elves, for he had given his life to break the power of the Dark Lord and to preserve the light of Númenor. His blade, Alcarandil, was placed in the Hall of Kings, a shining remembrance of his sacrifice, and the tale of his deeds was passed down through the ages, a beacon to all who would strive for light in the darkest of times.
The Elven Lament of Gil-galad for Tar-Vorondar
O star of Men, whose flame endured,
When shadows gathered, grim and lured,
Thy sword arose, thy spirit soared,
To break the chains of Mordor's horde.
Upon the fields where death did tread,
Thy courage shone, thy banners spread,
Like waves of silver, proud and free,
They cleansed the stain of tyranny.
Friend of the Eldar, steadfast, true,
In thee we saw the morning dew.
No pride did mar thy noble heart,
No greed could tear thy soul apart.
Together stood we, side by side,
Against the darkness' raging tide.
And when at last the foe lay low,
Thy hand delivered the final blow.
Yet, like the waves that kiss the shore,
Thy time has passed, thy war no more.
But in the songs of Elf and Man,
Thy name shall live, while stars yet span.
Hail Vorondar, whose deeds remain,
A light eternal, through joy and pain.
Though shadows rise, they break and fall,
While Númenor stands proud and tall.
The Númenórean Song of Tar-Vorondar
Beneath the stars of Western seas,
Where silver sails embrace the breeze,
There rose a king both wise and strong,
Whose deeds are sung in every song.
Tar-Vorondar, the Faithful Son,
Whose light endured till darkness done,
He bore the blade of Númenor,
And smote the shadow evermore.
His banners flew where fear took hold,
Through battles grim and nights grown cold.
Against the Tower, dark and high,
He marched beneath a fateful sky.
With cunning plans and steadfast will,
He bent the storms to serve his skill,
Till Sauron's hosts were cast away,
And light reclaimed the shadowed day.
The Dark Lord fell 'neath mighty hand,
His tower crushed at his command.
The lands were freed, the seas were bright,
For Tar-Vorondar kept the light.
Now Númenor remembers well,
The king who stood where others fell.
In song and stone, his name shall stay,
While stars above their watch display.
Of The Faithful In Numenor
Long had the Faithful waned in strength, their numbers few and their voices drowned beneath the clamor of the King's Men, who had turned their faces from the Valar and the One, seeking pride and dominion over all. Yet in the steadfastness of Vorondar, son of Tar-Palantir, there lay the seed of a stirring, faint but sure, in the hearts of the people.
On the field of battle, those who stood with Vorondar bore witness to a marvel beyond reckoning. In the direst moments, when strength alone seemed not enough, it was as though the hand of Eru himself had touched the Faithful King. His sword, Alcarandil, gleamed with a light that none could withstand; his voice rang clear above the tumult, bearing both command and solace. To many, it seemed that he fought not for Númenor alone but for all that was good and true in the world. And as his foes faltered, so too did the hearts of his doubters begin to waver.
It was said among the Eldar that Vorondar's faithfulness to Eru Ilúvatar was as a flame unquenched, even amidst the growing darkness of his people. His friendship with the Elves, too, bore a deep mark upon his rule, for Gil-galad, the High King of the Noldor, stood as his closest ally. Together they fought, their banners shining as one, a living testament to the ancient bonds between Men and Elves.
When the host of Númenor returned in triumph, bearing the body of their king who had fallen in victory, the tales of his valor spread like fire upon the wind. In every port and hall, the mariners and warriors who had followed him spoke of his faith, his wisdom, and the light that seemed to dwell within him. Even among the King's Men, there were those who began to question the pride and bitterness that had led them astray.
The lords of Númenor, long divided, found themselves drawn to a strange and unfamiliar unity. Many who had scorned the Faithful began to wonder if, perhaps, they had turned their hearts too far from the wisdom of their forebears.
It was not a full turning of the tide, for the shadow of the King's Men was yet strong, but it was a beginning. The deeds of Tar-Vorondar, his faithfulness to Eru, and his unbroken friendship with the Eldar planted a seed of hope in the hearts of his people. Though he did not live to see its flowering, in the years that followed, the light he had kindled endured, and the Faithful grew bolder in their trust in the One.
Thus was Vorondar remembered not only as a warrior and king but as a shepherd of hearts, who, by his life and sacrifice, began to turn Númenor from the brink of ruin and back toward the light of the West.