Hannamin
In the spring of Arda, when peace reigned in Doriath under King Thingol and his spouse Melian the Maia, an Elven-lord named Mithmir crossed the Ered Luin with his people and came into the small forest of Imlith, on the bank of the Brilthor in lovely Ossiriand. In a hidden vale of Imlith he established a village with many mansions and a single white spire, august and fearful to those who wandered near, but not so tall as to be seen by evil things from without the forest. He called it Hannamin, the Tower of Understanding, for it was dedicated to the deepest understanding of all thoughts and things. Mithmir and the largest part of his people were Nandor who had never visited the Blessed Realm nor beheld the face of any of the Valar; but the wisdom of Aulë was with him, and with him came also many wanderers who were drawn apart from their kin by a restless scorn for the comforts of the senses and an abiding thirst for knowledge and understanding.
The manual labor required in Hannamin was little, for the earth put forth food in abundance, and there was thus much time for leisure. The Hannamindrim studied all the languages of the known world, modifying the Cirth of Daeron as needed to record them. They pondered the movements of the stars, and sought to predict when two of Varda's lamps would merge into one brilliant beacon; and in great measure they succeeded. They pondered also the changing of the winds, and sought to predict the days when the wrath of Manwë would arrive in a great swirling column; but they were unsuccessful. They also developed in great depth the art of counting, which to other peoples was but a trivial skill; and they discoursed of Uneven Numbers, that is, numbers of things which cannot be divided into groups of equal size, and concerning these numbers asked a great many questions which no one could answer. And many other bold inquiries they made, even of how Eä might have appeared if Eru Ilúvatar had made it other than it is.
Among Elves and Men the achievements of Hannamin won renown; but the Dwarves looked on it with suspicion, as on a house of idlers, and challenged them to produce fruit out of their long days of trifling cogitation, a challenge that long went unanswered. Neither did the hunters of Oromë think much of Hannamin, when they uncovered it; and for long years only brief tidings of Hannamin came either to Aman or to Angband.
As the evening of Valinor was drawing nigh its end, there arose in Hannamin a Sindarin Elf, whose name was Geren but who came to be known as Muilbenedh, the Speaker of Secrets; for he devised a system of secret writing by means of a wheel, marked with runes on the upper face, and inlaid with buttons that actuate a mechanism within; and such was the ingenuity of the system that none could read the messages it produced, which appeared as runes in senseless order, save only the intended recipient who bore a matching wheel.
As fate would have it, this system was but lately devised when the fell summons came from Denethor, chief of the Nandor of Ossiriand under King Thingol, proclaiming that a new onslaught of Orcs had arisen from the North, and summoning all males of fighting age among Elves, Dwarves, and Men to the succor of the Sindar. At this news all the Hannamindrim were troubled in mind, and Mithmir who presided over them called all to council in the great hall of Hannamin, beneath the great white spire, to discuss what their answer should be.
Some counseled for ignoring the summons and trusting in the fastness of Hannamin, which by Green-elven art was well hidden within the forest of Imlith; while others deemed fealty to King Thingol never as important as then, when the very safety of his realm lay at stake. With long speeches the Hannamindrim debated this matter, as was their wont; but they were still divided. Therefore Mithmir motioned for silence; and despite his lisping voice, he was well versed in rhetoric in the High-elven manner, and he proclaimed:
"Shall we sit idly here, and be accounted as cowards, while the flames of war rage at our very doorstep? It is not to a petty skirmish that Elwë Singollo calls all the peoples of wide Ossiriand. Nay, these hallowed halls and this august spire, which are our home and treasure, lie upon the line of battle. Fain would I march out boldly with our hardiest warriors, if we had any; but we are a people of peace, and we have no skill with bow or sword. Therefore I propose this. Geren son of Galnor, a cunning thinker and a cheerful friend to all here present, has devised an ingenious system of hidden writing by means of rune wheels; he has taught it to some of the youths here, who take great delight in it. Let Geren go in embassy to Menegroth and propose that the most fleet of finger among us be stationed in the cities of Beleriand with their rune wheels, to send messages of import in hidden writing from one city to the next. The rest of us shall remain within the fastness of Imlith. If King Thingol be propitious, let this be the contribution of Hannamin to the preservation of Beleriand!"
At this there was great applause, for no one had yet suggested such a plan; and even Geren himself could not have devised it so shrewdly. And thus it was done; Geren Muilbenedh went in embassy to Menegroth, and King Thingol gladly accepted the services of the fifteen young Elves who accompanied him, and Melian gave them her blessing ere they were stationed in the cities of Beleriand and the surrounding regions, from Brithombar by the Great Sea to Nogrod on the eastern slopes of the Ered Luin.
The Cerfrim they were called, the Wheelers, and their work immediately filled the forces of Morgoth with consternation. For the Elves would often send three or four or even more couriers bearing identical scraps of parchment from one city to the next, along different routes if possible; and even were all but one of these to be intercepted, the message would arrive safely. And though the Orcs captured and hoarded dozens of these pieces of parchment, and extorted them from one another after their foul manner, still naught could they understand of them, for the key to each was changed in an intricate fashion, which the Wheelers learned of Muilbenedh and practiced on the road to Doriath. And Morgoth sought eagerly to trace these remnants of parchment back to their place of origin, which he knew to be in the East; but no one would reveal it to him, for lips were guarded in those days.
Through long and tiring days, with stern concentration, the Wheelers wrote the hidden messages needed for the coordinated defense of the cities of Beleriand, and read them before the Elven-lords and commanders in their councils; and though some of the Wheelers had to be removed to other cities as the lines of battle shifted, not one of them was slain, nor were any of their rune wheels captured: such was the power of Melian's blessing, which remained upon them. And when the battle was ended, and peace restored to Middle-earth, they asked for leave to return to Hannamin, to dwell with their kinsfolk and to resume the pursuit of deep understanding, which was their highest joy; and it was granted them.
With great fanfare did Mithmir and his people welcome the Cerfrim back to their home, and Geren their leader and instructor, who had remained in Menegroth, was lauded above all; and praises likewise were heaped upon Mithmir, the lord of Hannamin, who in scorning the summons of Denethor in letter had yet fulfilled it in spirit. Each returner was greeted with a great feast, with much wine which the Sindar of Region lavished upon them in gratitude. The rune wheels were collected once again in their place of origin, while the fame of the place spread wider than ever. Through long ages the Hannamindrim plumbed the depths of wisdom, knowing no bounds or cares to arrest their inquiries, until the boldest among them claimed that the wisdom of Hannamin surpassed even that of the Valar in splendid Aman.
Thus it may have been fated that, in after years, when the Sun shone bright on Middle-earth and the forces of Morgoth were all but driven into the frigid North, a wayward captain of Orcs ventured up the Brilthor, having lurked none knows where, and entered the forest of Imlith. Coming upon a clearing, he beheld a boy of the Atani, not yet old enough to be properly called a Man, sitting on an oaken stump while two of his companions looked on with awe and wonder. The boy was fingering a rune wheel and writing, letter by letter, a message on a scrap of parchment tucked under his thigh. The Orc-captain, whose name was Thark, watched for a long while from behind the branches of the trees; but coming out suddenly, he drew his sword and questioned the boy holding the rune wheel,
"What is this? From whence does it come?"
But the boys recoiled from the Orc-captain's cruel visage and made no answer. Thrice Thark repeated his demand; and long might they have continued thus, but that the bells began to chime from deep within Imlith, announcing the hour of supper; and supper that evening was a grand one, a festival once hallowed for the offering of thanks to Ilúvatar and to Aulë, but now given to revelry and base jests. The boys, who had known nothing of war, ran homeward with all speed. But the Orcs ran well nigh as fast; and Thark, beholding the white spire of Hannamin for but an instant, threw down a torch whose flame consumed the entire settlement. The trees of Imlith burst into flame round about Thark, and he perished even in his cry of victory.
Thus ended Hannamin, greatest of the towns of the Nandor in knowledge and understanding, and surpassing even the Noldor of Valinor in the arts of counting and of hidden writing. Naught remains of its scrolls of wisdom, and of its wheels and Wheelers, to whom the Elves of Ossiriand and all Beleriand remained forever in debt, save only the memories preserved in lore and song. For many ages none upon Arda dared to build a settlement or lead a circle of questioners upon the ill-fated plan of Hannamin. But in after years, when darkness has returned to infest the earth, many will look as they now do with yearning upon the brilliance of Hannamin, and will attempt to put to rest the questions that puzzled its people; and whether else may befall the world, it can be declared with confidence that none shall ever finish.
~ AMDG ~
2019