So it was now so as it was so to be as it had to be so, so King Sauron was dead and also defeated by me. And truly was this glad tiding, because he would have destroyed the whole world or ruled over it or some such terrible thing, probably. And all the army shouted aloud, ‘Hurrah for Nine-fingered Frodo and Steve! Hip hip hooray!’
But my heart was troubled and restless, and I called my friends together.
‘Friends,’ I said, ‘My heart is troubled, and also restless. Aye, a great deed has been done today thanks to me and King Sauron, source of all evil in the world and wickedest of all wicked things, is finally dead, and that’s excellent. Yet also is it not wholly excellent, for still there are many problems left to worry about.’
Prince Imrahil laughed as one foolish. ‘Problems? What are you speaking of, Lord Tallow? Sauron is dead, and everything is grand!’
‘Nay, not yet,’ I answered. ‘For one, the craven and cunning Faramir still lives, and rules the city of Minas Tirith. He may try to stop Mr Elessar from becoming king. Also, many of Sauron’s servants, like those elves, have escaped and might do some mischief. Also, it is very important that the simple people of Gondor and Rohan have a hero to look to, some great and noble figure as a figurehead. They cannot know of Boromir’s horrible fate and treachery, nor must they learn the truth of what came to pass in these dreadful days.’
‘What are you suggesting, Lord Tallow?’ asked Mithrandir inquisitively, seeking an answer to the question he had asked in that moment.
I looked to Mr Elessar and, from the deep sorrow in his eyes, I knew that he had already guessed at my plan. ‘I must go into exile,’ I said with noble sadness. ‘Thus is it so thus suchly so that the terrible deeds that have been done in secret during this terrible war may be concealed. Mr Elessar, you and your hobbit servants shall enjoy the glory and renown won by winning this fight, and thus will you win the respect of Gondor and Faramir cannot prevent you from being kinged. But also yet so will such be very so that thus people will not learn of the horrible treachery of Denethor, and thus will stability be maintained.’
‘No!’ cried Éomer negatingly. ‘There must be another way!’
‘No,’ I replied in answer. ‘There is no other way. I will roam the lands, doing great deeds in secret and also keeping the terrible secret of what hath come to pass in these dark days. Only thus so will it be possible to truly undo all of Sauron’s schemes and evils and render them undone.’
‘You must not do this!’ said Angbor the Fearless tremulously. ‘It is not right that you should suffer this dreadful doom, Lord Tallow!’
‘No,’ I countered replyfully. ‘Yet done it must be. I will guard these dreadful secrets even unto my dying day. And it may be that, though I am a great lord, I will do still greater things yet as a commoner, moving in disguise through the world and fighting evil wherever it lurks broodingly. Yes. I will, I must, go into exile. Farewell, friends!’1
Then did we all embrace, and tears were shed, but manly and noble tears and not cowardly tears or the tears of someone who jams his finger in a door. And I spoke words of wisdom and encouragement, and told Mr Elessar how to be a good king, and he took my words of wisdom to heart. ‘For,’ I said, ‘Now you are not Mr Elessar anymore. Now truly you are become King Elessar, King of Gondor and Mordor alike.’ And everyone cheered.
And then I leapt upon my horse and rode away, into loneliness and exile and solitary aloneness, and thus was parted from my friends, yet my heart was glad, for I knew that these were good folk, and they would do great things having learnt much from me. Yet also was it so also that my glad heart was a bit sore, as I rode, and thought of my lost love, the breastful sneak Éowyn who had done great deeds yet also who had maidenlyish forsaken my trust, even as woman is wont. And then I was troubled, and wept, but still were my tears strong. And also was my sore heart stirred, for I knew that my great deeds were only begun to be done, and that much heroicness lay ahead of me, Lord Tallow.
Thus is concluded the Tale of the War of the Ring and the Mighty Deeds and Great Tragedies that were done or happened during it, and at last is the true story known of how I, Lord Nicthalion Tallow, won the war and was a great hero and yet suffered great loss. The End. And also is it set down here how I, Lord Tallow, did win the War and restore jolly King Elessar to his throne and in doing so nobly sacrificed my own renown, alas.
THE END
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1 And so we come at last to the tragic turn in Tallow’s tale, as he is driven into lonely exile, thus presumably explaining his “need” to beg for bread and board in whatever lowly and unlucky cot he chanced upon (and, doubtless, allowing him to play upon the heartstrings of his public for good measure).
I do not doubt that Tallow truly intended that his story have a tragic end, doubtless seeking to emulate the mode of the heroic epics he understood just well enough to imitate, and understood so poorly as to produce the worst possible imitation of them. Yet he was also clearly so enamoured of his own legend and worth that there is absolutely no attempt to prepare or earn the unhappy turn; hence the paper-thin and frankly illogical excuses given here.
In short, Tallow’s desperate and pathological need to play the hero and repeatedly avoid failure in his mythologised biography is clearly at odds with the mode of tale he wished to tell, and I sincerely doubt that this thought ever once actually crossed Tallow’s woefully inadequate mind.
Further, there is a clear and baffling disconnect between “Lord Tallow’s” oath to keep secret the “true story of the War,” and his subsequent years of blithely telling that “true story” as he roamed dubious lands and frequented disreputable establishments. Be as that may, tell it he did, and judging by those fragmentary records we have concerning Tallow’s renown, travels, and doings, he unhappily and frequently inflicted that telling for many years indeed. And, though the actual story of the charlatan Tallow's life may never fully be known, I trust that the humble work I have here undertaken has at least illustrated one demonstrable truth: that that story is, in all likelihood, not worth knowing.
