The Fall of Numenor

by Lord Valentai

A recounting of the fall of Númenor. A very basic and short story that I wrote two years ago. Sort of a prologue to my real story which is coming this year and concerns the last alliance. Rated PG just in case.

** Foreword **

This story is written for pleasure and no moneys have been made or will be made from it either directly or indirectly. (If it ever does, the world is in trouble!) This is not a good story, it is a very brief description of the fall of Númenor. It leaks like a sieve but I wanted to make sure I knew how to operate this site before posting my real story on it. See below for more notes.

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Prologue – The Fall of Númenor SA3319

The mountain that loomed over the sea seemed impossibly white. It was bright like the sun but white as the purest snow. It rose into the air so that only on the clearest days could it's shining peak be seen. This day it could not be seen for the sky boiled with clouds. Like vast rolling waves they blew across the sky. The colours of these clouds in themselves were an omen of ill-doing, they were red like blood. A great thunder rolled amongst the sky, impossibly loud and close. Though morning it was it was dark like a winters dawn and the grey and red light glowed and flashed about the sky. The wind howled with great fury and the whistling winds sounded like the screams of spirits as they were drawn through the air. The great mountain formed one lip of a great bay whilst the other was formed by a tower of white stone that glowed in the grey light. The bay itself was wide and the far edge that faced the sea had a long white beach that led up a gentle slope to the land beyond. The sea outside of the bay had been lashed into a maelstrom of foaming water and spay that whipped the water up so high it fell as salty rain. It fell like the tear drops of a great titan upon the land and sea.

The bay and the seas outside were home to an innumerable forest that seemed to go on forever. The masts of the ships formed a phalanx of trunks far more measured than any grove. The bright sails and tall masts of the ships with the white painted hulls seemed unreal beside the swirling sky. The ships were buffeted by the unnatural winds but the skill of the crews was great indeed for not a single ships was dashed against the rocks by mountain or tower. In the mouth of the bay stood a ship far greater than any of the others. It was many masted and was as golden as midsummer sun and as black as the bottomless oceans. On it was set a great throne of black wood on which many precious stones were set. Sitting upon that throne was a man with black hair and a crown of gold and silver upon his head. He was dressed in robes of violet and sable that concealed to a degree a great blade and a suit of golden armour. As the sky blackened he stood. The men around him bowed their heads. There were many upon this high raised platform and they were all armed for war. Save one, a tall thin person clad in a black cloak through which his features could not be seen. He stood behind the king and the bowing of the men on deck was as much in fear of him as of their tall proud king.

The king was in a turmoil. He looked at the shining mountain and then to the tower and then to the golden beach before him and the green lands beyond. He seemed to be struggling with a terrible problem. His face was riven with a mixture of rage and confusion.

"What troubles you mighty king?" asked the cloaked man in a sibilant voice. Those who were near him shrunk away from it. The aura of blackness that formed from this man was almost visible. The king straightened and looked upon the cloaked figure with a grim set face. His black hair and crystal blue eyes made him look young but there was something in the way he acted and spoke which made all who saw him realise he was far older than most.

"Are you sure this is the right thing to do?" The king asked with a tiny tremor in his voice.

"For many generations of men the lords of the west have cursed you with the burden of age and death and dwell in a land where there is no sorrow or pain. And yet they do not let you, who fought so hard against the shadow dwell there. Instead they make you stay in sight of their land but you can never approach it. These lords taunt you as though you were a lap dog to them to be bidden and dismissed. Now it is time that the mighty take what they will from such unworthy masters. Long have they deceived you but now you have seen through their plots and arise a mighty lord to challenge them. Mighty king Ar-Pharzôn you shall no longer be blind to their plots!"

The king seemed sated by what the dark cloaked man had said but said one last problem he had obviously considering.

"This is no natural storm. It is an ill omen."

"It is a contrivance of the fools who dwell there. They dare not fight your mighty hosts so they try to frighten you into submission as they have done in the past. Before you saw the truth. Will you be frightened mighty king by a storm when immortality lies in your grasp?"

The king snapped into a fury.

"They shall soon have had me begging like a dog at their feet but I shall show them that the might of Númenor shall not be undone by them!

Sail the ships to the land in the bay and there we shall disembark. Sound the trumpets!"

This last was cried to the heralds who lifted their silver trumpets and blew a long note. Below them on the main beck the slaves rowed the ship of the king in towards the shore. The great flotilla followed until the whole bay was filled with the ships so completely that there was no gaps between them. As a hundred, hundred anchors were dropped the ground shoot with the impact and a great cry of triumph went up from the warriors on the decks of the ships. In the greatest of the ships of the men the king walked to the front of the ship where a ramp of stone had been lowered. The sand beneath the prow of the ships was like snow for so white was it in appearance that the men aboard had to look twice. The king stood upon the ramp and walked slowly down to the sand where the sea washed upon against. As he stepped upon the soft sand a tremble in the very earth could be felt and the sky cracked with lightning. He strode up the beach and was followed by his guard to the top of the first rise of ground. Upon this the king stood and drew his mighty blade and shouted into the gusting wind.

"I claim this bay and all of the havens of the Valar as mine and that of the people of Númenor. If none shall come out to fight me than we shall destroy all who stand in our way. Set up the camp for tomorrow we march on the city of the Valar!"

Before his orders could be obeyed however there was a great crack of lightning and a bolt of power smashed apart one of the many ships and set it's ruined remnants ablaze. Before anything else could happen however they was a final terrible boom like the slamming of a great stone door.

Alone on the deck, the dark cowled figure stopped in mid laugh. He had laughed twice, first when the king had stepped ashore and again when he had pronounced his intentions. He snarled and raised his hands and suddenly he was revealed as a being of black power. He raised his hands and chanted in a terrible tongue words that drove men to the ground in fear. With a flash of black smoke he vanished from the deck of the mighty ship just as the fury of the gods struck.

Unknown to all, Manwë had called upon the power of Eru to deal with this evil once and for all. Now the doom of the men of Númenor and it's people were sealed. To the king on the rise it was as though the strongest wind imaginable had risen in wrath from the sea and in a single gust snapped every mast in that great and mighty host. There were cries of dismay as more bolts of power fell like rain to scorch and burn. The sky twisted and spun like a whirlwind and seemed to form a great tunnel of wind above the ships. Like a tornado it descended and where it touched the ships shattered and the men were thrown into the air to be dashed against the rocks on the shore. The lightning struck down and when it seemed that only death and wreckage would be left of the great fleet a new evil assailed the survivors. A wall of water some fifty foot high formed and smashed into the ruin of the ten thousand ships. Now the great tornado sucked up the water from the wave and flung it like rain.

The king stared in shock as the terrible rage of the Valar was vented upon the ships. The lightning struck and flashed to kill many of those who had followed Ar-Pharzôn ashore. The king looked around in panic as he heard a great rumble and saw his own doom. He had run down towards the shore and now the very land rose against it's defilers. The hill before him swam and became a vast wave of rock and sand that moved as slow and powerful as the passage of time. Ar-Pharzôn was struck by the great wave and smashed to the ground where his last sight was of the great hill towering over him like a giant from the stories he had been told as a child. Then he felt no more.

The dark figure appeared on distant but visible Númenor and again laughed aloud. This time in terrible triumph. Now that there were none to look at him his laughter and voice became as menacing as a growling wolf. He laughed in triumph because his plan had finally come to fruition and the race he hated second only to the Eldar themselves were ruined.

Then the ground beneath his feet shuddered and bucked like a wild beast and his laughter stopped. He stood inside a mighty temple that he had ordered constructed at the cost of the lives of scores of slaves who had toiled to their deaths or been slain in a sacrifice when the temple was finished. The temple was mighty and with silver roof and burnished walls it stood proud in the streets of Númenor's greatest city. It seemed as the storm that had destroyed the great fleet had come to destroy the great island of the Edain itself.

A tremble came over the dark figure and he raised his hands and chanted like he had done on the flagship of Ar-Pharzôn fleet. This time he looked in panic for nothing happened. He tried again but still nothing happened. The being roared in rage and from the sky above the dome of the temple came a boom of thunder that sounded like a mocking laugh. The being started to walk down the stairs towards the distant doorway but the vengeance of Eru struck first.

The bolt struck the roof. It was unlike any bolt of lightning ever seen on Middle Earth for it smashed the dome of the evil temple asunder with terrible fury. The dome shattered as though it was a frail eggshell struck with a hammer. The bolt blew out the walls and struck the throne at the top of the stairs which was turned to charcoal splinters and was thrown like a storm of needles in every direction. The dark one was thrown to the floor by the sheer power of the blast but almost fell again as the very earth beneath his feet twisted and shifted. He roared in anger but as he fell to the ground a fissure in the ground opened beneath his feet and the remaining walls of the temple fell in so that one could see the ruin of the rest of Númenor.

The whole of the great island was shifting and everywhere there was ruin and fire and smoke. Then the walls of the great stone buildings fell and the people who still lived perished in the nightmare of falling stone and pitching ground. The very earth seemed to moved and great upward facing cracks in the ground burst open and from this great wound in the earth came rivers of fire or rivers of water that flowed down to meet each other. They met in a swirl of steam as the rocks fell and the hills twisted. Then came the final doom of the land of the defilers. A great wave, a hundred foot high and which filled the very sky before the eyes of the last survivors. Then it smashed down upon the remains of the towns and the blow rang like hammer and anvil in a deep canyon. The very hills bent before the terrible assault and the whole of the island split apart and began to sink. The more it went on the more water poured from the depths until it was so overwhelmed with water that it sank. It sank like a ship holed at the water line and the steam fire smoke and spray combined to make a swirling vortex of shadow and flame that covered the last moments of Númenor.

The dark one knew that he had underestimated the wrath of the Valar but he also knew that he had accomplished much for one of the two nations he hated most was destroyed. A gaping pit like the maw of a great wolf formed under him and as he toppled into the bottomless abyss which glowed with red fire he cried aloud one last time. Instantly a dark mist, almost lost from sight by the dust and steam sped away from the ruin. With a last ghostly cry it wailed away into the east. Then the temple, the island and the body of the dark one was enveloped in fire and death. The island sunk beneath the waves and was lost forever more. The waves closed over where the highest peak had been and now nothing remained of the great home of the Edain.

Incredibly there were survivors. For not all had followed the heed of Sauron or their king. They were the faithful, the few that had followed the old ways of friendship towards the Eldar. When Sauron was first taken they counselled the king to not listen to his whisperings. But Sauron had taken on his fairest form and his voice had been like a honeyed. He first persuaded the king to make him his councillor and then seduced him and the greater bulk of the population of Númenor. After a while it was plain who was in charge and who was merely a puppet. For Sauron convinced the people to worship him and then he raised their ire against the Eldar and those who aided them. The faithful were oppressed and none listened to the words of either Amandil or his son Elendil. When the king ordered the construction of the great fleet and host of war, Elendil prepared for a different journey. He knew of the wrath of the Valar if the king went ahead with his suicidal plan and knew that they must escape before the wrath engulfed them. When the soldiers of the king and of Sauron came to find them they hid themselves and their ships but Sauron ordered them found and to be executed. For he hated Elendil and all he stood for and now on the eve of sailing forth he had a chance to remove him. Though he hated Sauron and the evil he had wrought Elendil would not draw his sword upon even such misguided wretches and instead hid by the havens.

Amandil his father had sailed himself to Valinor but this time to beg for mercy from the Valar. Elendil knew that this would not work but he could do nothing but watch as his father sailed away. He never saw him again. Now as the fleet sailed forth so did Elendil sail out but to the east he sailed with nine ships. In those ships was his two sons Isildur and Anárion and all of the faithful who could be found. As they sailed away they saw the great storm brewing and as they sailed they saw great flashes of lightning and then came the doom of Númenor.

Then a great wind blew up like the fastest tempest of storm ever seen or heard of. So swift was it that the sails and masts of the nine ships were riven and destroyed. The ships of Isildur and Anárion were separated from that of their father. With four ships with him Elendil was blown north and east whilst his sons were blown almost due east.

"We see land your majesty." Informed the steward Engwen. Elendil sighed. He had been looking over the prow of the ship for hours now, unseeing. All he saw was the great wave that had crushed his land to ruin. His ships had been thrown north, ever north by the same wind that had riven their sails. For four and forty days they had been at sea and the impossibly long distance they would have to travel had been covered so quickly. The storm had been mighty and the waves terrible but the ships themselves had not even been damaged. It was as though some force wished them to survive. That was not a comforting thought.

"Very good Engwen, anchor the ships somewhere protected and send scouts inland. I want to find out where we are."

"Of course my lord."

Elendil thought of where they could be. They had travelled north and a little east for almost a month an a half. His map had been lost in the swirling storm and he could only hope that they were in friendly territory. He mused on this more as the white painted ships entered a bay with a rocky beach that led up to towering mountains in the distance. All around him was tall pines and grey rock and the cry of birds could be heard everywhere. The air was chill but not cold enough to shiver a man wearing heavy robes and armour.

Elendil had been called 'the tall' when he had last visited the elves in Middle Earth and the name had stayed. He was over six foot tall with broad shoulders, blue grey eyes and dark hair. His eyes sparkled with light usually but now they were red from exhaustion and sorrow. Even though he was king he had had to tend to the oars and bail water from the bottom of the ship. There had been no special privileges to him as king in the times of crisis. He was worried about his sons but knew they were safe. With still a few minutes until the ship would land he turned to his steward and drew forth a black sphere of about five inches in diameter. It looked to be made of obsidian or jet but was in fact made of a material that was altogether unfathomable. This was one of the palantíri the seeing stones of Númenor that had been a gift from the Eldar after the War of Wrath. They had been crafted by Fëanor the mightiest craftsmen to ever live, in the first age. There were seven of them and they allowed one to see anything that was near the other six. If one had a sufficient amount of will power he could force it to reveal whatever the owner wished and so was an enemy unable to hide from a strong bearer. He spoke the traditional words to activate the stone and spoke briefly with his sons before he broke contact and looked at his little fleet.

His four ships carried just one hundred men each and he knew that if the kings of Middle Earth resisted him than he would have difficulty taking power from them with just four hundred men. He looked around at the clear blue sky, so different from the tempest that had engulfed his beloved homeland. There was work to do now. The ships had to be repaired, a camp set up and envoys sent out to find where exactly they were. He secured his sword and stepped to the front of the ship. Without waiting for a ladder he leapt from the prow and instantly sank ankle deep in the sand and rocks. The black and grey rocks crunched under him as he strode up the bank. There were a score of men securing the area and their leader bowed to him as he approached.

"Lord king we have found no marker yet of where we are but we are in the northern regions judging by the climate. There is no hostile forces nearby."

"Have you posted sentries?"

"Yes lord king. Baran son of Furgil is in charge of the patrol. He is a good man."

"Understood. I want everything assembled by nightfall."

"Yes lord king." The man crossed his hand over his heart and strode away. The men on the beach were from the few warriors of the guard who had remained with the faithful. The were dressed in impressive helmets with high metal crests. They wore chain linked armour and carried heavy straight swords and spears of ash and oak. The emblem of the king Ar-Pharzôn had been removed and replaced with the star of Elendil's house. Elendil gave the signal and the heavy boats were pulled up on shore and barricaded so that even the greatest swell would not move them.

Elendil suddenly felt old. For a man he was indeed old. He was over two hundred summers old and he knew that although his time was not yet he had only had a limited time on this world. He was related by direct line but not through the line of kingship to Elros Ta-Minyatur the first king of Númenor. He had lived for some five hundred years as king but he had died many centuries ago. Elros was the son of Eärendil whose selfless sacrifice had made the creation of Númenor and even victory against Morgoth possible. Elendil had seen his father Amandil sail away and knew that he would never see him again on this earth. It was getting dark and as the tents and food was unpacked the tall king strode about the camp talking to each of his men.

Although he did not know it this was one of the reasons that these men had followed him and his sons. They had followed him over the honeyed words of the king Ar-Pharzôn because he was a man who actually cared about those who fought and served with him. He never asked his men to do something he would not do himself and from this sprang trust. The men knew that no matter what they suffered their king would be watching over them. The sun was setting behind the  endless sea when the leader of the scouts came back to him. Baran son of Furgil was a tall beared man who was a lethal woodsman and who was renowned for his hunting skills. He bowed before his king and gave his report.

"Lord king we have gone to the limit of sight. About three miles and see no sign of habitation or of any enemies." 'Lord king' was the strange method of greeting him that he did not really mind but which seemed strange all the same.

"Good work, make sure the guard is vigilant during the night. We do not know what may lurk in the shadows." Elendil advised with out sounding condescending.

The man nodded and went on. "I sent Aergil son of Argos with a dozen archers to set up camp a half mile away. We will know if anything approaches."

"Good work Baran. Fetch the captains of the other ships and direct them to my tent."

The man saluted with his right hand over his chest. Elendil walked to his tent which had been erected in the centre of the camp. The women in the camp tried to comfort their children. Both were few, only the men who had been guards had been allowed to go to the ships by order of king Ar-Pharzôn. The tent had a fire inside and Elendil entered, still a little unsteady after so long at sea. He undid his armour and placed his helm upon his shield which had been carried ashore from the ship. He kept his sword by his side in case something indeed did threaten out in the woods. After a half hour his captains assembled and he spoke to them in the lighted canvas room.

"My friends we have survived the landing and all seems to be well. Tomorrow we will send out scouts to ascertain the surrounding area more closely."

"What of your sons lord king?" asked Amentruis his best captain and long time friend.

"They are well. I have conversed with each through the palantíri and they have also reached land. Though they have done so far away from us here."

"What of supplies lord king?" asked another captain.

"We shall determine where to go first and then march to replenish our stocks. In the meantime we will send out hunters and foragers to help find extra food. Anything else?"

"No lord king." They called and saluted.

For the first time in months High King Elendil was able to rest on the ground without fearing for his life.

The next morning a light breeze lifted the flags that had been placed about and the men were up as Anor rose over the eastern mountains. Elendil was ready and dressed by an hour before dawn. He stood stronger than he had the previous night and was happy that he had finally had some sleep. He walked out of his tent and over the dew covered weeds above the beach. Walking down onto the crunching black stones he took a personal inspection of the assembled ships. They were structurally intact but the mast and sails were ruined and could not be used again. They would need time to repair the ships to make them sea-worthy. Even if they could be made sea-worthy, what was the point? Elendil wondered. He did not know where he was now and so going to an even worse place was not to be considered.

He called a meeting of his captains again and divided the men he had available for scouting into four parts. Each of them would take thirty men and they would go and scout all of the day in the areas assigned to them whilst the king would help build a fortified camp to protect the ships and their supplies and non-combatants. They would also scout to find more food.

This left about fifty non combatants and a hundred and fifty men who were set to guarding the camp and building more permanent shelters.

The day passed quickly and as the sun waned the king retired to his tent to plan his next move. The patrols had to be on their way back and most of the foragers had returned with some prizes. They would have some fresh meat and roots for a while. The king knew not only from the thoughts of his men but also from his own observations that they were in the north of Middle earth somewhere. The climate suggested an area north and west of the great mountains. He hoped they had landed in Lindon where the Elven king Gil-Galad ruled the largest community of his king on earth. He had decided to wait for the return of his patrols before deciding a direction.

There was a knock on the tent pole and he was jolted from his daze into which he had fallen. He looked at the son and saw he had been thinking for near an hour. He turned to the door to see his steward Engwen waiting respectfully but nervously at the door. He realised that there was a murmuring of voices outside his tent like a rustle of wind through ferns. The steward was looking very nervous. He had never looked like that before even on the last night in Númenor when Elendil had grown wrathful of the decision he was having to take.

"Lord king there are several guests to see you." He said.

"Guests? Who?" he asked. Why had there been no alarm? Who were these people?

"You had best come and see lord king." The voice was strange and Elendil left his armour off but kept his sword just in case. It was near dark outside but he could now see a faint but constant light outside. It was not like flame or torch light. It was like the pure light of the sun's heart. He stepped out of his tent and gasped in shock.

"Greetings Elendil son of Amandil. King of Númenor." Came a voice to his front.

Many hundreds of leagues away five other ships were sailing into the mouth of a river. They had been travelling for longer than their father and on the night he slept on the cold earth they were approaching land. The five ships were spread out so as not to impede the rowers or the ships themselves if there was a sudden gust or change of wind. The vast green lands and mountains loomed in front of them and it seemed that fortune had pointed to one particular place for them to land.

A flag went up from one of the ships and another swiftly responded with a similar flag. One bore the star of Elendil on a blue background whilst the other showed it on a green background. The two ships immediately sailed on convergent paths so that in just a few minutes they were able to touch each other. The seas were very calm indeed with virtually no waves or anything other than a swift breeze to blow them on. The masts, sails and rigging of all their ships were as ruined as that of their counterparts in the north. Finally one man stood on the ship with the blue field and leapt across to the red flagged ship. There two men who were very similar embraced. It was obvious that they were brothers for they joyfully spoke to one another. It was clear that their bond was great. The man with the blue flag was the younger son of Elendil the tall, Anárion whilst his brother was the older son Isildur. They were similar in looks, the hair and beard of Anárion was lighter, almost bronze compared with the black hair and beard of his older brother. They happily spoke.

"So my brother it is good to meet you face to face again! It has been a score of days since last we talked and I grow weary of talking through the seeing stone." Isildur said with a wide smile.

"But surely that is not the reason you have called me?" Anárion said with mock seriousness.

"No my brother I have heard from father. He is safe but has landed many hundreds of miles to the north. He is well and has set up a camp and hopes to find union with High King Gil-Galad."

"That is well for in the storm I feared he had been lost forever and-"

"Do not think of that now my brother. We must concern ourselves with where we shall land."

"This river in front of us must be the Anduin for there is no river of such size in this part of the world. If I remember what Engwen told us, there is many coastal cities of our kin along here and maybe we can find refuge here."

"As the heirs to the throne of Númenor by rights all of these lands are ours to command. I have no wish to fight a war but we must unite these people and govern them until such time as we can seek council with father."

"I agree, but we should and on the mouth of the river and set up camp and then scout to find the disposition of the cities of this realm and their ruler's thoughts of us."

"Agreed brother, will you see to the camp while I help with the unloading of the supplies?"

"Of course my brother." Anárion said and ordered the ships to land.

It was near mid day before all five ships were ashore and the rudiments of a camp was established. A guard of three score was set on the fringes of the camp in case the areas around were hostile. When this was done the remaining peoples from the ship helped to unload the ships and took up positions to help set up more permanent homes. The tent of Anárion and Isildur was setup together in the camp and because a chill rain was falling they allowed two score of people to share it with them. The next morning the scouts came back and told them of the havens of Pelargir were near by.

Isildur and Anárion shared this news with their captains in the tent they had slept in.

"An envoy must be sent to establish communications with the city whilst we must appeal to all of the men of Númenor to join us in this new kingdom. If everything goes well we will be able to create our state by the end of the year."

Elendil blinked but could not see through the shining light in front of him. It was as though a star had come down from the sky and stood in front of him. The figure stepped forward and the light slowly faded to reveal the person who had spoken. The person was an elf, immediately apparent from the ears that were pointed and extended by about an inch. The elf before him was as tall as Elendil with long black hair and a crown of gold was worn through his hair. He wore a cloak of blue and gold whilst beneath a suit of armour, golden in colour shone. He was accompanied by a score of similarly dressed members of the firstborn. They bore the standard of a great star on a blue background and wound about with gold and silver letters. The elf whose very body had shone like pure moonlight had a noble bearing which showed him as a mighty lord of his people. In an instant Elendil knew who this elf was and knelt before the high elf king.

Ereinion Gil-Galad smiled and held out his gloved hand to the king of Númenor. The man took it and stood again.

"Well met Elendil son of Amandil. It has been many lives of men since one as noble as you landed upon these shores." Elendil nodded his head in thanks and waved to the tent to suggest that they go inside.

"No my friends let us go down to the water where we may talk privately." The High King suggested. Elendil nodded and walked down to where the water flowed in tide up the bank. They stared at the water in the dusk for a few moments before Elendil looked at the elf king.

"How is it that you knew we were here?" Elendil asked and Gil-Galad smiled and turned to him.

"I did not know my friend. My scouts confirmed that some ships of men with the design of Númenor had landed with the banner of the leader of the faithful. I sent a runner ahead to send a message and we followed behind. As it turns out I was just in the area, we were investigating reports of orc warbands but they turned out to be false."

"That is well for we came with little strength of war." Elendil put his hand upon the fore arm of the elven king to emphasise his next words. "We are the only survivors of all of Númenor. Only I with four ships and my sons with five ships escaped."

Gil-Galad looked shocked at his words. "What happened? We felt a great tumult in the earth some forty suns ago but we have heard nothing about it."

Elendil looked old for a moment and the elf was concerned he might fall from the stress of the moment.

"Númenor has fallen." He said simply and Gil-Galad grimaced.

"Fallen to what? What evil has befallen your fair isle."

"A great evil overcame our king Ar-Pharzôn. He sought immortality from the lands of Valinor. He sought to make himself lord of all things. He payed no heed to the warnings and summoned a mighty fleet of near ten thousand ships and assailed the blessed land."

Gil-Galad was shocked by the implications of such a move and he shook his fair head softly.

"An ill fate this is. We feared that when the Darklord was taken that it was not the end of the matter. And now you say that he corrupted the king?"

"Yes, we of the faithful were persecuted and only we escaped from the ruin of out land. For the Valar unleashed their power and destroyed the great fleet and our land. We managed to escape. Nine ships."

The High King looked sorrowful for a moment then looked at Elendil again.

"You say there is nine ships? I only see four."

"The other five belong to my sons. They are at the mouth of the Anduin river and have set up camp today."

"How do you know?" The elf asked.

"I have seen it." Elendil drew one of the palantíri from his pack and showed it's black surface to the elf king. Gil-Galad looked in amazement as the depths of the black sphere pulsed with a red light. Ereinion looked into the eyes of the man of Númenor.

"If I am not mistaken, these were made by Fëanor himself and given as a gift to the men of Númenor at the end of the war of wrath."

"That is correct. On the eve of the great venture Isildur and I broke into the palace of the king Ar-Pharzôn and while I took these Isildur took a fruit from the white tree of Númenor. There after we have guarded them and so we are able to talk to one another."

Gil-Galad turned from the sea to his new friend and placed both hands upon the man's shoulders and spoke very sincerely.

"I feel for your plight. Although our two kindreds are becoming more estranged as time passes it need not be so. I can still remember in the war of wrath how the kindred of the Edain stood beside the Eldar and the Valar and for the suffering you endured we shall ever be thankful. In the time since the men of Númenor have oft come to our aid. Twice we asked and twice they came to our aid. Now if there are two things that the Eldar never forget it is a slight and a debt. We are in your debt so it is only fair that I should aid you. The men of Eregion and the north are disunited and falling prey to the darkness. You are the one who can change this. You have my blessing to rule these areas if the people will."

Ereinion Gil-Galad finished his speech and looked into the mans eyes. He saw trust and goodness in them. He knew that this man was a worthy ally and that together any evil could be overcome.

"I thank you for everything you have done my king. I gladly take your proposal." Elendil said.

"Then let us make it formal." Gil-Galad said and they walked up the beach towards the camp. Here most of the elves were talking with the men of Westernesse and mixing happily. To Elendil it was a sign of better times. Maybe the long days of darkness could be put behind them and that just maybe it was possible for the races of men and elves to again unite.

Gil-Galad walked to the centre of his camp and held up his hands so that all those around stopped talking and moved around the fair elven king. He gestured for Elendil to come forward and he clasped the human king's hand in the warrior's salute and spoke in a voice which although not loud could be clearly heard.

"Kinsmen and friends this day is an important moment in the relationships of our two races. For on this day shall be signed the eternal bond of friendship between the kindreds of the firstborn and the secondborn. The men of Númenor have aided us in the past so now it is our turn to repay the bargain. From this moment there shall be friendship between the men of Númenor and the High Elves of Lindon. If one foe threatens us then we shall combine and fight upon the battlefield together."

A great cheer went up from the meno of Númenor and sounds of celebration could be heard from the Eldar in the camp. Gil-Galad and Elendil the tall drew their swords and crossed them. Thus they symbolised how the fates of their races would ever be entwined.

The next morning Elendil awoke to find the Eldar had gone in the night. As a token of their friendship they had left both gold and food as well as some tools. How they had got them there was anyone's guess but it was a nice gesture and Elendil rose. His beard had become straggly over the days and so now he ordered his steward to bring him some cutting blades with which to trim his beard. When this was done he ordered that all should be made ready to depart. He had spoken with Gil-Galad in the night and knew that there were few enemy warbands in the area but he still ordered scouts sent out on the march. He would march north from city to city until he had established his kingdom. Arnor, the land of the king.

Ten years later. SA3329

The day had finally come. It was two weeks til Midsummer's day and there was a long journey to make. The great stone tower was near two hundred and fifty foot high and one could look out through gaps in the surrounding mountains to the distant plains beyond. The tower was occupied by a man now who had climbed the three hundred and sixty five stairs to the top and was now quite out of breath. He drew from his cloak a key and opened the door to the top chamber. The door swung open to reveal a small room that was virtually unfurnished aside from a single stone plinth of a grey stone. On the top and held in place by a stone framework like hands was a sphere. It was black and five inches across. The man walked over to it and let his hood fall to reveal the high king Elendil. He had not changed much in the ten years except that he looked more tired than he had done even in the aftermath of the fall of Númenor.

The palantíri glowed with a soft inner light and after a brief communication with another of the stones Elendil looked out over his domain. It had been an easy conquest if that was the right word. Not a single sword had been drawn against them as they marched from city to city. The people of Arnor had been disorganised and divided. Now Elendil had taken them under the rule of a single king. To the people he was Elendil 'The Just' and he worked twenty hours a day to ensure that his people were cared for and they respected this. His domain was large, stretching from the misty mountains to the west where it met the borders of Gil-Galad's domain. It also held dominion all the way past the Tower of Angrenost on the Isen river that was the official boundary between the realm of his sons and his own domain. He had not met his sons in ten years. There had simply not been the time or the opportunity but on Midsummer's day they would meet and Elendil could hardly wait. He had communicated regularly with the stones like he had this morning but that was nothing of the same.

Elendil looked out over his city, the great city of Annúminnas which he had built as his capital on the banks of Lake Nenuial and surrounded by the hills of the Emyn Uial. The city was protected by these mountains so that only two passes to the south and along the banks of the river Baranduin could be used. The city had grown greatly in the ten years since it's founding. Elendil had ordered this stone tower built to house one of the three palantíri that he possessed. The city was now almost the largest of the cities of Arnor and it was his intentions to expand down into the area of Calenardhon with it's rich pastures. Around Imladris which was called Rivendell by men he left a wide area around which was directly ruled by the leader of the haven there.

Relations with the Elves had been good and indeed some of the few survivors of the elves of Eregion had come to live in his cities. Most of the rest had returned to Lindon. Gil-Galad had often met with the human king and seemed to like all he saw. Elendil had also made peace with the dwarves of Durin who lived in the great mines of Khazard-Dûm. They had sworn friendship and promised to aid the other in times of need.

Elendil opened the door to the stairs and walked down to the bottom. He opened it outward to see that his escort had assembled. Two hundred knights with mail and gleaming swords would escort him to the meeting with his sons. He mounted his horse and checked that his armour was intact and his helmet comfortable. His sword Narsil had been buffed by his steward to an incredible shine. As he mounted he looked at his regent Arence and smiled at the man.

"Look after the realm in my absence Arence. I will be away for more than a month."

"I shall not fail you lord king."

"I know you won't old friend."

Hundreds of leagues away in the tower of Minas Anor, the tower of the sun another man also made ready. This was Anárion and he made ready to meet first his brother Isildur and then the long ride to where his father would meet them on the river Isen in just two weeks. It would be hard riding and exhausting to reach it in time but Anárion believed that it would be worth it. He walked through the many doors to the exit of the highest of the cities' seven tiers.

The kingdom that the brothers had forged had been harder to take and they had been forced to draw their blades to kill. This area around Mordor was in the grip of the dark power that was rising again and they held many tribes of men under their sway. The kingdom however was peaceful and united. Anárion lived in Minas Anor whilst his brother had planted the white tree sapling he had rescued from the fall of Númenor in the city of Minas Ithil, the tower of the moon. Minas Ithil had been chosen because it was a guard station for the border of Mordor and one of the few passes through the Black Mountains. The realm of Gondor was far more concentrated in population that that of Arnor and it made it easier to govern that way.

Anárion mounted his grey horse and rode down through the white walls of his city to the great gate. As it slowly opened he rode out onto the field of the Pellanor and his escort followed. A half dozen leagues on his troop rested and he dismounted from his horse. He looked very similar to his father, more so than his older brother and was certainly the wiser of the two. He had become known as something as a scholar in his early days on the island of Númenor before the strife had become so great. His brother was rash sometime, almost to the point of foolhardiness. He was also considered arrogant by many of his captains. Isildur was however a better fighter while Anárion was a better leader than fighter he would not hesitate to stand in the front line.

As Anárion rested he heard the approach of hooves and he looked up from where he sat to see his brother mounted on his horse over him. Isildur dismounted and grinned and offered his hand.

"Come little brother there is no time to tarry. We have a long journey before us and it is best if we start soon."

"Of course. How fare you?"

"We are well, a group of orcs tried to march on a village in Ithilien just last month but not one survived." Isildur sounded pleased at his work.

"Orcs? Is the dark power rising again?"

"Who can say but for the moment it is idle. These orcs were mere bandits and we treated them as such."

"Come brother ride with me and tell how goes the fair tower of the moon."

The two brothers mounted and rode with their escorts away.

They covered the ground quickly and in just thirteen days they had ridden fast enough to be able to go slower as their destination was not far off yet. As they hastened forward they saw the grey peaks of the Misty Mountains before them. The great tower of Angrenost was in sight on the Isen river. It's black peak rising above the surrounding land and only dwarfed by the mountains themselves. As they rode over the crest of the next hill they saw that a patrol of cavalry had seen them and now rode forward to intercept them. As they neared their captain saluted in the normal way of the men of Númenor.

"Greetings lord princes. Your father is waiting in the tower yonder and he is expecting you."

The reunion was something to witness. A father meeting his sons for the first time in ten years and then after the disaster of the fall of Númenor.

"Isildur, Anárion! It is so good to see you too again. Long have I wished for this moment for the joys of seeing you within the seeing stones is nothing to seeing you in the flesh."

"It is good to see you again father." Said Isildur happily and the two embraced. The three went to the pinnacle of the tower overlooking the Isen River and discussed their matters of state.

They opened the door into the top meeting room of the tower and stepped inside. All had been made ready by the captain of the tower, Calaroth. He was a tall man in his thirties who came from the area of the Isen in one of the many small town and cities that dotted the map. He had brown hair and blue eyes and waited in his official uniform. As the door opened he jumped into life and bowed to the three nobles. They saluted in the style of Númenor, right fist over the heart.

"My lords welcome to the tower of Angrenost."

"Thank you captain. That is all, we will be in this room for all of the day and the following days as long as needed. Have food sent up with lamps at dusk." Elendil said but not harshly.

"Of course lord king." The man bowed and closed the door.

Anárion went to the wooden shutters of a window waited and pushed them outward. The light of the afternoon sun coming in from the west illuminated a map that Elendil now spread upon the table and waited with four stones. The two brothers crowded over the detailed map and looked on their kingdoms. The land of Arnor was vaster but was in more friendly territory with now organised threat upon the borders. With the elves of Gil-Galad to the west and the dwarves of Khazard-Dûm to the east there was little threat to the kingdom save from marauders. These were few in number as Elendil had spent much time hunting and punishing these bandits.

The land of Gondor however was smaller and was more beset by conflict. To the east on it's exact borders was the land of Mordor which although it was mostly quiet was still a threat. To the south was the various tribes of men who were either independent or were mastered by the dark powers.

The populations of the two kingdoms was about equal for though Gondor and it's vassals east of the mountains was smaller it had a larger concentration of people. Arnor was rather sparsely populated in many regions.

For six days they talked and decided. They broke for a few hours sleep a night and then returned before day break. Their meals were brought up by the servants of the captain of the tower. At the end of these six days there was little that had happened of any note. The only thing of major significance was that they officially united the kingdoms and laid down the official rites of power. Anárion was to be the lord of Minas Anor and of Calenardhon and all of the land to the west of the white mountains to the border of Arnor. Isildur would have the frontline roles of Minas Ithil, Ithilien

And all of south Gondor and Lebennin.

When this was decided then they swore eternal friendship between the two kingdoms and after a last night together they parted and returned home. And so the first great united empire of men in Middle Earth was formed and tied together.

However the forces of light were still at their peak. For the realm of Anárion and Isildur still stood in the south and their father's land in the north was still the bastion of man. The elves not only of Imladris and Lindon but also of Greenwood and Lórinand were still both numerous and strong. It was clear that the gathering storm would soon break. It was in the first month after the new year that a messenger was sent from Imladris to the capital of Elendil's kingdom of Annúminnas to inform him of recent news about orcish incursions from the north. The rider was the elf councillor Tiraldórë who was noted through out the lands for being diplomatic and very well liked amongst men. He rode with only two escorts, both human sent by Elendil to safe guard the messenger. When he was only twelve leagues from Imladris near a thick stand of trees he came to trouble.

** Author's Notes – The Prologue **

This is not a good story. I mean it! It lacks everything that a good story should have, it has excessive use of short paragraphs and clichéd characters. This piece was written as a prologue of sorts to my real story about the last alliance. You can see now why I have discarded it. Despite being short, it does not have any of the character that is in my other story or characters. None of my proper original characters are in it and it is thus very dull. I could rewrite it but I have chosen to concentrate on my real piece of work. I accept reviews of course and even welcome them. Do not take this story as a measure of my ability! My real story is over four hundred thousand words so it will be a long time before my that piece is ready (it is still being rewritten.)

The events here are taken loosely from the Silmarillion and I mean loosely. Sauron was not in the fleet, I know that now but then… I knew a lot less then.

If anyone enjoys this then I will be happy indeed.

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