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The Assignment:
It is the Fourth Age of Men and King Eldarion, heir of
Aragorn and bearer of Andúril, has been dead for many years, and, having left
no heir, his sword was placed in a holy shrine dedicated to Eru Ilúvatar in the
citadel of the kings located in the city of Gondor. A sacred law was
established saying that none could take and wield the sword until he showed
great valor in saving the city. During the Great Battle of the 4th
age, orcs of Mardurgil attacked Gondor, breeching its walls and raiding its
citadel. As the raid was taking place, Barahir, the grandson of Faramir, sought
to defend the citadel. During his defense his sword was broken and he fled into
the shrine where Andúril was kept. He took the sword and rallied the men,
slaying Mardurgil and pushing the orcs out of the city. Once peace was secured
the elders called Barahir before the council to decide whether he should keep
the sword because he used it to save the city, or whether he is unworthy to
keep the sword because he took it before achieving any great valor.
Instructions: Write an essay in favor of or against the
claim of Barahir to the sword Andúril using the six-part essay format
(introduction, statement of facts, division, confirmation, refutation,
conclusion) and any available strategies from Hermogenes. Your statement of
facts should arrange the details of the event so as to highlight your
definition (Barahir’s actions meet the standard of “great valor”) or
counter-definition (Barahir’s actions do not meet the standard of “great
valor”). Feel free to ask questions.
The Example:
You wisest men of
Gondor, best fathers of us all, I bid you welcome to this assembly. Before you
stands Barahir, our timely hero, whose deeds of late are well known to you. I
need not remind you how he singlehandedly delivered our city from destruction.
You, yourselves know of his desperate charge from the citadel, with Andúril,
Flame of the West held aloft in his bloody hand, calling down the fiery dawn’s
first rays upon the foul orc horde. You have heard sung the testimony of his
beloved soldiers, how he reigned down Eru Illuvatar’s sacred fire upon
Mardurgil’s helm, cleaving it asunder as he cut a path down through the city to
her gates, rallying our men and casting out every last remnant of defiling orc
scum. I would that such words today commemorated the high honors already
bestowed upon Barahir by this great council. Instead, I am compelled to defend
his honor, besmirched by jealous accusers. Men who, instead of showering just
honors upon Barahir, have called him sacrilegious blasphemer, warmonger, and
vainglorious usurper. I come to answer these charges on behalf of Barahir and
to prove not only that he is no usurper, no warmonger, no blasphemer; but also
to show why he is worthy to possess Andúril and lead our city into its former
glory as in the days of Aragorn himself.
You have heard the
words of his accusers, to which I will turn to in a moment. But before I
address their blasphemies, I wish to remind you of Barahir’s valorous blood; to
bring before your eyes the image of Faramir, his grandfather, in the very man
you see before you. I will then recount the deeds of Barahir in the battle for
Gondor’s Citadel, resting place of our kings, who from their sepulchers witnessed
valor not seen since the siege of Gondor at the end of the Third Age. I must
then say a word about the sacred law concerning Andúril, and what its framers
meant by enshrining it in sacred holiness. Then, if words remain necessary, I
will turn at last to the accusers claims.
Nobility, like the
finest vintage, does not emerge from tender shoots of newborn vines, but
stretches forth from generations in which deep roots have delved into the
earth, both to draw strength from the soil and to hold fast against the
fiercest elements. My fathers, Barahir’s valor draws its strength from
well-anchored roots as you well know. His blood flows from Boromir son of
Denethor, his great uncle, whose valor no man questions. This alone should
quell all doubts! Yet it is not Boromir’s blood that runs thickest through
Barahir’s veins, but his grandfather Faramir’s! It was not Boromir who resisted
the corruption of the Ring of Power, though he paid for his sin with a
sacrifice of blood. It was Faramir whose quality shown the brightest when
tempted by Sauron’s ring. Moreover, it was Faramir who counted not the scorn of
his father so great as to prevent him defending the last stronghold protecting
Gondor from Sauron’s army, led by the Witch King of Angmar! Steward of
stewards, was this Faramir—greatest servant of Aragorn Elf-Stone—and it is his
grandson Barahir who carries his noble blood into our presence today and
stewards our people through his shining quality.
Did not Barahir
lead our men in sorties against the hordes of Mardurgil when they besieged the
city before breeching our walls? Who was it that led the defense of the gates
until they broke before the enemy’s iron fist? Barahir bears the scars on his
right arm from where the shards of that gate embedded in his flesh as he cast
his last spear and swung his blade in mighty arcs when the battering ram
shattered our doors to pieces. It was Barahir who rallied the men into ranks,
some to defend the women and children and some to retreat with him to the
Citadel, where a last defense would be made. No man slew more orcs in that
endeavor than Barahir, though his arm gushed out his strength as a river. When
his sword shattered from hewing so much orc armor, he found himself at the
mouth of the sacred shrine of Eru Ilúvatar. Barahir, who had barely time to
take breath under the onslaught, breathed a prayer to Eru as he sped into the
shrine for Andúril. With a shout of defiance and hope he sprang from the sacred
room with all the might of our fallen kings clenched in his bloody fist, and
what a mighty blow did it wield, my fathers! I ask you, would such a sacred
sword as Andúril sing so lustily and so clearly for a valorless man? Would not
the sword have resisted under an unworthy hand? Could Eru Ilúvatar grant
victory—not just victory but victory of such glory and splendor that songs of
it will stretch into the Fifth age of men—would Eur give such to one whose
valor and nobility was dubious?
Our forefathers
who crafted the sacred law could not foresee the day or hour when Andúril would
be needed again. Instead they entrusted it to Eru Himself, with the explicit
acknowledgment that only the most valorous would be worth of Eru’s blessing to
take the sword up for having delivered Gondor from peril. Had they but known
that Gondor’s peril would be such as Barahir faced, they would have named him
destined heir to Andúril in their law! As it was, by enshrining the sword under
the sacred watch of the fallen Kings, before the face of Eru Ilúvatar, no mere
man, and certainly no base one, would have been granted the victory that
Barahir won by Andúril’s edge and Eru’s might. Did not the sword sense its
rightful place in the hand of Barahir? When his bloody fist gripped its hilt,
could not the sword feel the spirit of Faramir rushing into it from the pounding
of Barahir’s heart, burning with the mighty zeal of that Steward of old?
And yet we hear
base men of little worth and excelling ambition hurl slanders at our True and
Faithful Steward. They say Barahir committed sacrilege and blasphemy by taking
the sword from its shrine without the blessing of this council. I ask you now,
my wise fathers, which of you, if you were standing with Barahir at the mouth
of the shrine would not have bid him take up the sword? Which of you, having
witnessed with your own eyes all that I have recounted, would not have thrown
yourselves upon Barahir’s knees and begged him to take up the mantle of the
Steward, fix Andúril in his fist, and mow down the enemies of Gondor like so
much dry stubble? Do you deem him unworthy of the sword as he stands before you
now, savior of the city? Then how could his acts of valor with Andúril
disqualify him from possessing the instrument of our salvation?
These treacherous
men say that Barahir is a warmonger and usurper of Gondor’s throne. They accuse
him of inciting Mardurgil’s wrath so that he could steal Andúril and take the
throne. What madness! No man, no council of men, could orchestrate so elaborate
and spectacular a ruse. Barahir did not send the men of Gondor to the East to
scout the whereabouts of Mardurgil’s horde. Barahir did not put into that black
orc heart the lust for all mankind’s destruction. What fool could believe that
a man so given over to selfish lust would abandon his body to the perils at the
gate, as Barahir did? Who, but a self-righteous and envious dog could believe
that any man would carve up his body on the blades of his enemies, break his
own sword, and save but a remnant band of weary men to make a last charge against
the wrath of evil orcs—even with such a blade as Andúril—by design to usurp the
throne of a city already in flames?!
I will waste no
more words; indeed one word at all is a waste for such slanders, yet in such
dark times as these even basest slanders gain a hearing, seeing that our eyes
lack the light of former glory. And yet, and yet, O my fathers, here before you
stands a ray of that light from our glorious past shining anew! See him stand
meek and strong to receive your judgment! He does not plead, or beg—his face is
all of peace. For he knows that his cause is just, and that no city is worth
his honor if it condemn the valor it has witnessed in him. Will you not honor
him? Will you go against the will of Eru Ilúvatar Himself, who gave Barahir the
victory and delivered Gondor from destruction? If you refuse him Andúril, you
cannot rob him of the valor he has already achieved, but you can rob yourselves
of the honor of your office. Add your voice to what the silent cries of our
fallen kings shout from the Citadel—the Citadel that still stands because of
Barahir—Andúril is yours, True Steward of Gondor! Andúril is yours, True
Steward of Gondor! Andúril is yours, True Steward of Gondor!
