Luthien's Gamble

Epilogue

“A kingdom? A democracy?” Oliver spat derisively. “Government, ptooey!” They had been on the road for a full week, and though spring was on in full, the weather had been somewhat foul—not the expected weather considering the glorious return to Caer MacDonald. Now, with the walls of the mountain city finally in sight, the Ministry sitting huge and imposing up on the hill, their conversation had turned to the coronation of free Eriador’s king.

There had never been a doubt in Luthien’s mind about who that should be. Several of the folk had called for the Crimson Shadow to take up the reins as their leader, but Luthien knew his talents and his limitations. Brind’Amour would be king, and Eriador would be better off for it!

“Ptooey?” Katerin echoed.

“Government,” Oliver said again. “Do you know the difference between a kingdom and a democracy?”

Katerin shrugged—she wasn’t even certain what this concept of democracy, which Brind’Amour had raised soon after they had all crossed back in to Eriador, exactly was.

“In a kingdom,” the halfling explained, “a man uses power to exploit man. In a democracy, is the other way around.”

It took Luthien and Katerin a long moment to catch on to that remark.

“So, by your reasoning, Eriador would be better off without a king?” Luthien asked. “We can just let the towns run themselves . . .”

“They will anyway,” Oliver put in, and Katerin had to agree. Few of Eriador’s proud folk would bend to the will of anyone who was not of their particular village.

“Still, we need a king,” Luthien went on determinedly. “We need someone to speak for the country in our dealings with other lands. It has always been that way, long before anyone ever heard of Greensparrow.”

“And Brind’Amour will keep the people of Eriador together,” Oliver agreed. “And he will deal fairly with the dwarfs and the elfish-types, of that I do not doubt. But still, government . . .”

“Ptooey!” Luthien and Katerin spat together, and the three enjoyed a hearty laugh.

The coronation of King Brind’Amour went off perfectly, on a bright and sunny day less than a week after the army had rolled back into Caer MacDonald. If there were any who disagreed with the choice, they were silent, and even the rugged highlanders seemed pleased by the pomp and the celebration.

Brind’Amour had ascended to the role of leader now, with the battles of swords apparently ended and the diplomatic duels about to begin, and Luthien was glad for the reprieve, glad that the weight and responsibility had been lifted from his shoulders.

Temporarily, Luthien held no illusions that his duties had ended, or that the war had ended. He had discussed the matter at length with Brind’Amour, and both of them were of the mind that Greensparrow had so readily agreed merely to buy himself some needed time. Both of them knew that there might remain yet a larger battle still to be fought.

Luthien thought of Estabrooke then, who had given so many years in service to the Kingdom of Avon. He thought of Estabrooke, who would be buried in Caer MacDonald. A lifelong service to Avon, and the noble knight had asked to be buried in Eriador. Luthien would have to think long and hard on that irony.

But all such dark thoughts were for another day, Luthien told himself as the decorated coach approached the platform that had been constructed in the wide plaza near to the Ministry. Brind’Amour, looking regal indeed in huge purple robes, with his shaggy hair and beard neatly trimmed and brushed, stepped out of that coach and ascended the stairs to the joyful cries of the thousands gathered.

Gathered to mark this day, Luthien reminded himself, forcing all thoughts of Greensparrow far from his consciousness.

This day. Eriador free.