Who does not remember the One White Glove and athelas breath mints? Naith's poetry threads crooning out the ragged riffs of a lyric soul? From Pelennor Pigskins to the Minas Tirith Marketplace, the Poetry Palace to Tales that grow in the Telling, the Houses of Healing to the Rangers of the White City, and not least the magical world of Merethrond-- few stones of the White City have been untouched by two special people! Do you see their footsteps? Do you hear their words? If you walk in Minas Tirith, you will, for they helped make it what it is today. They guided and shaped the dream of Gondor that lives in the hearts of many. Crowned or uncrowned, Naith Lianthant and Laielinwen retain the reverence of many grateful subjects and the love of many friends.

Here we are gathering the memories, the laughter, and the solemn moments of their time in the White City. Do you have a favorite memory? A link to some old thread, a highlight of their reign? A poem, a tribute, an image? Do you have words or quotes of theirs you'd like to share? Please send it to the monarchs of Gondor, and add to this ever-growing page.

Milestones of Laie and Naith


Panegyric for Naith Liathant

What makes a king? Is it wisdom? Is it heart?
Is it a soul full of poetry, in itself an art?
Is it courage, is it kindness and pride in one’s home?
All of these qualities Naith brings to the throne.
What worth is a man unless he be fair?
No matter the extravagance of his kingly chair,
If he can not laugh along with the common man,
No scepter will help him to govern the land.
What makes Naith the king we love so boldly?
To all of Gondor he gives himself wholly.
His dedication astounds us, he seems everywhere,
He’s patient, and always has kind words to share.
And can it be true that clothes make the man?
For we still call him King when he is Fancy Dan.
Can a king be playful and yet be a good ruler?
Well, Naith can, for at games he is a master.
How does a king find time for himself anymore,
When to all his people he leaves an open door?
A deep mystery to us it will forever remain,
How prolific his words are; they fall freely like rain.
Does depth of character a good king foretell?
From sorrow, Naith’s compassion flows deep as a well.
His roots go even deeper in this White City,
As sword-bearing Ranger in search of a trainee.
A son of Dol Amroth, blown to us on fair wind,
So glad are we to call him ‘mellon nin’.
When all’s said and done, another day spent,
Having Naith as our King, we will never lament

By Aralomiel

Threads to Remember, Memories to Treasure

Add memories and memorable moments here!

In the summer of 2004, Laielinwen bravely faced a difficult surgery. Naith held the fort alone, and everyone sent thoughts and prayers to her. When she returned, Naith and Laie roleplayed a moving and touching story to explain "The Masterhealer's Malady". The trials of Beren and Lúthien seem curiously inverted here. I will not forget the image of Naith kneeling beneath an elm outside the House of Healing, bent with grief, or the spirit of Laielinwen fighting her way back through shadows to be with one she loved. ~ Tinw

Laielinwen

When she came to us from Rivendell,
Where a carefree life she lived,
She brought with her such tenderness,
Her healing hands she freely gives.
                Feel a gentle touch upon your brow,
                And know that Laie is with you now.

When the White City has awakened,
Each day she makes her way,
She spends her time among us,
Bringing wisdom to all she’ll say.
                Hear soft footfalls on the stair,
                And know that Laie is everywhere.

When she walks into a room,
A stately hush does fall,
Her presence sparkles with great light,
Bringing peace amid the hall.
                See the sun shine on her crown,
                And know that Laie won’t let us down.

When darkness falls upon us,
The enemy waiting at the gate,
Her strength is devastating,
To lead must be her fate.
                See her riding on her steed,
                And know that Laie will take the lead.

When joyful days are with us,
She makes them brighter still,
She holds our hearts in her hands,
Her wish becomes our will.
                Watch her walking in the sun,
                And know that Laie loves everyone.

When standing beside the King,
Her rule is fair and wise,
She makes us all feel equal,
Justice lives within her eyes.
                Hear her laughter in the hall,
                And know that Laie is for us all.


Addendum

When you know she’s still one of us,
That she likes to have some fun,
And you see her sitting in the pub,
Of spamming there'll be none.
                Feel her hammer deal its blow,
                And know that Laie does mean "no".

By Aralomiel

Tributes to the Royal Pair

praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise them with great praise

Nothing could have prepared me for the magic of Merethrond, and forever and always, I remember the shining moment when the Masterhealer delivered a little bird back to health and light with healing hands. It was no secret that a part of me has ever looked up to her as a hero since that day. In time I came to know also the regal king who sat beside her, steadfast and patient, a leader of men who set an outstanding example for his Rangers to live up to. I was moved by the compassion and talent I found in his beautiful poetry: Liathant's Laments. I have many fond memories of straying into Merethond to play the harper in the king's hall. Here are some of the songs I played for them, which they know were not only the twitterings of a vain harper, but also an expression of admiration and love: Pippin's Song, All That Is Gold, Minas Tirith (original), In Western Lands, harpsong (original). I will not forget their kindness, or the way in which they made dreams and legends come to life in the White City. ~ Tinw


Art and Poetry


My Journey

A journey I take to Middle-earth
every chance I get.
I first came many years ago
and I haven't tired of it yet.

The friends I meet there are different from me,
but in a wonderfully exciting way.
I enjoy their uniqueness and idiosyncrasies enough
that I always want to stay.

There are Wizards and Hobbits and Elves galore;
it is truly an amazing place.
There are Dwarves and Men and Orcs and more;
characters from every race.

I share in their adventures... the "journeys the thing,"
so many things happen "on the way."
Our focus always comes down to the "One Ring,"
this "little trinket" can so-many a heart sway.

When the journey is over and the quest is done
I must return to my own time of men.
After the partings and grieving I'll pause for a while...
Then I'll begin reading all over again!

~ "My Journey", Laielinwen

Here Where I Lay

Here where I lay down on my bed, thoughts are turning round
I will tell you, constant readers, the friends that I have found...

When I was a young man, before the winter, I was always strong
Before I knew there was a difference, between my right and wrong
I always struggled to be the best that I could ever be
I meant no harm, I plead forgiveness, I would go on bended knee
I am not a proud man, I made my mistakes, and sure I paid the price
I suffered no fools, I gave of myself, I made my sacrifice

No regrets, no going back now, clocks only turn one way
And though I may have my wishes, there is little a wish can change
For many years I have loved her dearly, this angel sent to me
The grace of heaven, dwells in her eyes, close as I will ever be
If she could but hear me singing, but I dont sing these days
And all the memories like leaves stirring, none of them may stay

She treads softly when she comes now, and her smile often fades
When she looks upon me lying, when she sees my face
So many stories, so many implored me, my love was always true
And I fight for my breath, tremble inside me, to say that ' I love you'
Now she cannot hold me without tears where I am at rest
I feel her warmth; can't tell if I'm crying; she lays her head upon my chest...

Here where I lay down on my bed, thoughts are turning round
I will tell you, constant readers, that I have to leave this town.

This old man's gone to ground...

And the angel I leave, in this world's waterfall
Will come to me soon, if I can but call...

...her name

~ "Liathant's Laments", Naith LÌathant

graphics, intro: Tinw