(See also “Being a Dúnadan” and “The Path of a Dúnadan”)

Avallónnë. Fifth Age. - It may seem to be more than a little self-aggrandizing to refer to myself as a Modern-Day Dúnadan but I do so nonetheless. I will hasten, however, to (a) make clear that I do not lay claim to being The Dúnadan, for that name belongs to Aragorn alone, and (b) explain what I mean by being a Dúnadan.

As we all know, the Dúnedain were the Rangers of the Third Age who patrolled and guarded the vulnerable inhabited lands in Middle-earth. They tended to be isolated much of the time although they did not avoid people and would quickly draw near to like-minded others, whether they were elves, wizards, hobbits, other Dúnedain, or even dwarves. They valued people individually and evaluated them on the basis of personal character, not according to race, kindred, or even - to an extent - creed.

The Dúnedain are not numerous these days or, if they are, not many know about them - including other Dúnedain. We do tend to find one another, however, as though by chance, and a friendship forged is rarely undone. A Dúnadan survives in part by the mere knowledge that he (or she) is not alone, although they may be quite distant from those around them. It is a distance born of difference: a difference of perception, values, and temperament.

The Dúnedain, of course, are Númenoreans, the faithful people who escaped the doom of their island home and set up kingdoms in Middle-earth west of the Anduin in Arnor and Gondor. All of us who claim the Name of Christ are Númenorean but, sadly, not all are Dúnedain: a Dúnadan is more Númenorean than most Númenoreans. We are the same, only more so.

(If that sounds boastful or arrogant, so be it. I cannot deny what I believe to be true and what my life bears witness to. I do not hold my Dúnadan status as a badge of honor or greatness but only as a symbol of greater responsibility. Let others say what they will; I know what my relationship with God is like. It is for Him that I perform. No other opinion matters.)

Most Númenoreans, I fear, are similar to those described by Faramir as he talked to Frodo at The Refuge of Henneth Annûn. He spoke, perhaps as much to himself as to the hobbit, of the difference between Rohan and Gondor, and of the greatness that once belonged to the latter, the lone surviving kingdom of the ancient Númenoreans.

Yet now, if the Rohirrim are grown in some ways more like to us, enhanced in arts and gentleness, we too have become more like to them, and can scarce claim the title High. We are become Middle Men, of the Twilight, but with memory of other things. For as the Rohirrim do, we now love war and valour as things good in themselves, both a sport and an end; and though we still hold that a warrior should have more skills and knowledge than only the craft of weapons and slaying, we esteem a warrior, nonetheless, above men of other crafts.”

The blood of Númenor ran more purely in Faramir than in most of his day, including his valiant brother Boromir. Boromir was the very sort of man - a warrior - held in high esteem merely because he was a warrior. This grieved Faramir. And Gandalf. And Aragorn. The hearts of Faramir and Aragorn, and the other Dúnedain, are reflected in Faramir’s later words to Éowyn.

War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend: the city of the Men of Númenor; and I would have her loved for her memory, her ancientry, her beauty, and her present wisdom. Not feared, save as men fear the dignity of a man, old and wise.”

Much goes on in Middle-earth - this chronological middle-land between heaven and hell - that is of little interest to a Dúnadan. Hobbits squabble amongst themselves, dwarves get up in arms against elves and other dwarves, and men do what men do best - or worst, as the case may be. Most of it is but “sound and fury, signifying nothing” of eternal significance. Or, to put it another way, their activities are of eternal insignificance.

Those of us who, due to no merit of our own, find ourselves to be among the Dúnedain have a troublesome and troubling mission. It is troublesome for us and troubling for others; the latter gives birth to the former.

I will close for now. Next I hope to discuss those difference of which I earlier spoke and of the troublesome and troubling nature of a Dúnadan’s largely invisible life.



Namárië.