Beregilthor ever lived within the White City, standing clad in his shining armour of the citadel guard near the tower of Ecthelion. The second son of a generation of warriors and guardsmen, and the proudest achievement of his father before him. Beregilthor had an elder brother, Aglaril, who had chosen to serve away from his family at the beacon of Amon Dîn.
Here amongst few other guards he tended the oldest of all the beacon hills that lay watchful over the passage into North Ithilien from Dagorlad. Aglaril's choice to live permanently at the beacon came as a hard decision for his family; his father being set on continuing the line of Minas Tirith soldiers and his mother who hated to see her firstborn leave home so early in his life.
Aglaril is a pious man who reads a lot of books. His devotion to the Valar and Iluvatar is what keeps him standing. At Amon Dîn he believes he can hear their voices carried onwards by the west wind. Years of service have not left him any less vigilant to the movements of the enemy, but it has made him grey and silent, and amongst his fellows he is seen as a solitary spirit who seeks not the company of the living. They fear that he is turning into a wraith before their own eyes.
Not once in twenty years has Aglaril needed to light the beacon, and yet still he polishes the oil casks every week and much of his hours are spent on replacing the molding wood or cleaning up dust and ash coming over from the east. As Beregilthor became the son his parents always wanted, Aglaril could find more peace from his family to read his scrolls; parchments he had delivered to the hill on a weekly basis, empty ones too for he liked to draw whatever came to mind.
And thus Aglaril has ever stayed upon Amon Dîn - he was not even present at his brother's wedding or at Anartil's birth. Beregilthor did visit him on occasion, but though the two were brothers they did not understand each other. The first time he saw Anartil was when his brother's spouse came over to personally hand him his lecture for the week along with the spiced wine he liked.
By his mother's surprise Aglaril was overly fond of little Anartil and he told him many things of the Valar and of times long passed. Together they wondered about the stars and sang songs in the morning breeze. When Anartil came of age and desired the life of his father, the contact with his uncle waned and he didn't see him again for many years. Perhaps the time will come again that they will meet - if it is not already too late for Aglaril.
