Kalmar Shuffler

“And if I weep
Let it be
As a man
Who is longing for
His home.”
― Rich Mullins

“I’m the Throne Warden of Anniera, and Kalmar is my charge. Do you hear me? I’ve battled Fangs and trolls! I’ve walked the Stony Mountains and sailed the Dark Sea! I’ve stood in Yurgen’s shadow and looked the dragon in the eye!” Lightning scraped the clouds as Janner stood in the rain and screamed. He flung a finger in Grigory’s terrified face. “The Maker has brought us safely this far, Grigory Bunge, and I will fear no guildling of the Green Hollows. If you insult the High King or the Song Maiden, you will reckon with the Throne Warden. Do you understand?”
― Andrew Peterson, The Monster in the Hollows

“Men in Númenor are half-Elves (said Erendis), especially the high men; they are neither the one nor the other. The long life that they were granted deceives them, and they dally in the world, children in mind, until age finds them – and then many only forsake play out of doors for play in their houses. They turn their play into great matters and great matters into play. They would be craftsmen and loremasters and heroes all at once; and women to them are but fires on the hearth – for others to tend, until they are tired of play in the evening. All things were made for their service: hills are for quarries, river to furnish water or to turn wheels, trees for boards, women for their body’s need, or if fair to adorn their table and hearth; and children to be teased when nothing else is to do – but they would as soon play with their hounds’ whelps. To all they are gracious and kind, merry as larks in the morning (if the sun shines); for they are never wrathful if they can avoid it. Men should be gay, they hold, generous as the rich, giving away what they do not need. Anger they show only when they become aware, suddenly, that there are other wills in the world beside their own. Then they will be as ruthless as the seawind if anything dare to withstand them. Thus it is, Ancalimë, and we cannot alter it. For men fashioned Númenor: men, those heroes of old that they sing of – of their women we hear less, save that they wept when their men were slain. Númenor was to be a rest after war. But if they weary of rest and the plays of peace, soon they will go back to their great play, manslaying and war. Thus it is; and we are set here among them. But we need not assent. If we love Númenor also, let us enjoy it before they ruin it. We also are daughters of the great, and we have wills and courage of our own. Therefore do not bend, Ancalimë. Once bend a little, and they will bend you further until you are bowed down. Sink your roots into the rock, and face the wind, though it blow away all your leaves.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fall of Númenor

“I thought I lost you," Janner said as they climbed.
"I thought I lost me too," Kalmar said, "until you said your name. It brought me back. I attacked you, didn't I?"
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry."
"I forgive you. And I forgive you for the next time, too, and the time after that."
"But what if I really hurt you?" Kalmar's ears flattened, and he stared at his hands. "Or worse?"
"You're my brother. I forgive you.”
― Andrew Peterson, The Warden and the Wolf King