The throne is empty, the king long gone,
Centuries before I pen this song.
The throne is empty, and dust gathers there,
But there is no king to notice or care.
Others come, and see the throne,
And wonder why it stands all alone.
They see my father, in the Steward’s chair,
And think what
would do, if they sat there.
But my father takes no notice, of hints or convention,
Saying that ‘Stewards should be above such pretension.’
I see my father, in the Steward’s chair,
And wonder how
would do, if I sat there.
Could I subdue my natural inclination?
Or would I force civil war upon my nation?
Would anyone follow my lead?
Knowing that it is a
Or would they ignore the foolish child?
And say to each other, “His ways are wild.
But in time he will settle and make a good Steward.”
Would a pat on the head be my only reward?
I love Gondor, my country of birth,
I look at the people and see only their worth.
But my people are dying,
Widows are crying,
A strong leader we need,
One without greed.
Could I be that leader?
Maybe a soldier,
Could win the people’s hearts,
And learn, without arts,
How truly to
And fill the people’s need.
Or perhaps I will fail,
No course is without travail.
At the least I
Even if it means I die.
For if I fail, what worth would I bring,
Even to a throne without a King.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.