Chapter 3: Arthadan, Son of Amandil; Numenorean King
AN: this is it, the sarcophagus and the burial chamber proper. I hope I do it justice.
Posting as fast as I can, I hope. I want to have as much done as possible, because I have no excuse to stall but procrastination. Winter does give me a good excuse otherwise but not now. Please tell me how I am doing.
Fic time!
It was raining, when Steven arrived; the kind of soft light hazy mist that Ireland and the British isles are famous for. It was unseasonably warm and as a result Steven removed his long leather duster, and traded it for a lighter overcoat. It was still black, mind you, but Steven felt the need to be less ostentatious for once. Steven had no idea what to expect but after his little chat with the Steward of the Rogers estate, he hoped that the archeologist hadn't overstepped their bounds. But when he saw the excavation was already in full swing he knew he should have not hoped otherwise. Irritation curled in his breast and left a sour taste in the back of his throat. He marched over to the man who seemed to be in charge, and wheeled him around to face him; not bothering to hide his irritation from his face.
"What the Hell, do you think you're doin'," he growled. The man stared back at him through large round glasses hanging off a hawk like nose, his eyes as round as saucers. He was fair skinned with freckles dotting his nose and cheeks, and he had the typical Irish red hair. The professor pulled back and straightened his jacket before trying to put on an expression of someone who had every right to do what he was doing and be where he was; emphasis on trying.
"My colleagues and I are excavating this site for the British Museum. We have been given permission to excavate the site," he said snobbishly and with his chin held high so that he could look down his long beak of a nose at Steven. Steven scowled and shoved down his tempter mercilessly, taking a calming breath to cool his temper.
"As far as I know, it hasn't been given yet," he said hotly, "this is private property and this tomb rests on private land. You weren't given any permission to enter that tomb." The professor squawked indignantly at his statement and sputtered.
"No permission! Now you see here, young lad," he shot back, "this used to be private land, until the late '20s when it was hence considered abandoned. As such I only needed the permission of the local authorities to excavate." The man gave Steven a smug smirk, as if he had won the argument, but Steven only gave the man facsimile of a smile, all teeth and little joy.
"Wrong on both counts, professor," he said, and the man unfolded his arms and started to look worried. "The land belongs to the Rogers estate, and the Rogers family. You know, those powerful and wealthy Numenorean Lords, which used to live in Castle O' Rogers. The family of Captain Steve Rogers, otherwise known as Captain America." The professor finally started to look contrite as Steven laid out the picture for him. "The Rogers household has been under the rule and protection of the Steward of the estate, and that includes all lands belonging to them. The land was made open to the public by the Stewards as a way of giving back to the poor people in the area who suffered most from the first War. They never abandoned the land." The professor finally hung his head in shame.
"We were told by the assessor's office that the land was public, because of abandonment," he said, looking back at the entrance to the tomb.
"Well it isn't, professor, and not only is it private land, this is also considered a sacred burial ground and you have no right to trespass on it. The hikers are forgiven because they stumbled upon it, but you came here uninvited. What you are about to do is tantamount to grave robbery," Steven told him. The professor looked saddened but also disappointed.
"This is the greatest archeological find since the discovery of King Tut's tomb," he said, "a discovery like this happens only once in a lifetime. We know so little about the ancient Numenoreans, and to find the tomb of their first king, is extraordinary. To let a find like this go uncovered and unexplored because of a mistake is foolish." The archeologist turned back to Steven his face hardened and determined. "I won't let a little thing like a stupid assessor mistake get in the way of the most amazing archeological discovery of a lifetime." Steven smirked and his face softened a little, impressed by the stubbornness of the little man, before raising his hands in a placating gesture.
"Hold on, now, professor…" Steven chuckled at himself; "you know in all the commotion I forgot to ask your name." the archeologist started and looked at Steven before bursting into a full belly laugh.
"You know," he chuckled with a grin, "neither did I. My name's O'Seannan, Connor O'Seannan; what's yer name, lad?" Steven smiled a more genuine smile, before holding out his hand in greeting.
"Steven," he said, "Steven Buchannan." The Archeologist laughed as he shook Steven's hand.
"A Scotsman," he laughed, shaking his head, "I should have known." Steven chuckled and shook his head.
"No, not a Scotsman," he said with a smile dropping the man's grip, "my family lives in America, and they came from Romania, but my gran… she could trace her lineage to Arthadan." Connor nodded in understanding. "I actually came from the Rogers estate on behalf of the steward to give his permission to excavate the site, on one condition: you uncover the sarcophagus and restore the tomb to its former glory. The caretakers sealed the tomb ages ago to prevent tomb robbers from plundering this tomb as well. You already know that the others were looted, but this was also known to them, so they sealed up the tomb and buried the entrance. Over the years the knowledge of where the tomb was exactly… was lost. They knew the general area but no precise coordinates." Connor nodded and turned back to look at the group of archeological students working on removing the rubble from the lesser rooms and opening the burial chamber. He turned back to Steven with a smile.
"I have never seen a tomb in my life as an archeologist that was more grand or large as this one," he said, "not even the great tombs of the Egyptian pharaohs were more elaborate or ornate. If the caretakers of the estate and the tomb want to see it restored, then I dare say you'll not find an archeologist that wouldn't jump at the chance to help." Steven grinned, and let out a sigh of relief.
"Then we are agreed," he asked, "permission to excavate for your help to restore the tomb?" Connor smiled himself and held out his hand.
"Aye," he said, "I think my boss would agree that it is a fair trade." Steven took Connor's hand and shook on it.
"Good," he said, dropping Connor's hand and moving towards the entrance. "Now that we have that little business out of the way, we should get to the matter of opening the burial chamber. I take it you haven't been able to find a way in that doesn't involve explosives?" Connor shook his head dejectedly and eyed Steven.
"I take it you now a way in?" he asked and Steven nodded with a smile before moving to the entrance. "Well, what is it?" Steven simply smiled and motioned with his head to move down into the tomb. "Ye aren't gonna tell me, are ye?" he asked, and Steven grinned cheekily. Connor shook his head and rolled his eyes up, pleading for patience; despairing at his choice of an assistant.
When Steven entered the great hall, he was completely blown away. He had been expecting a grand kingly throne room, he had seen the architecture of the Rogers manor, and knew it would be grant. But he had no idea just how large and elaborate it would be until he set eyes on it. His jaw dropped to the floor as he took in the double floored throne room, and the descending staircase that led to the bottom floor and the door itself. The door to the tomb was large, lit up with what looked to be an Ithildin inscription, which was slightly smaller than the door and glowed with a pale blue light. The door was a simple arch of stone, recessed further inward than the rest of the wall. It was framed by two large columns with domed, recessed niches containing large carved statues of two trees. On the left was a tree carved of a golden stone laden with golden fruit on its golden leaf branches. On the right was a tree carved from a silver stone, its branches bearing silver flowers only on its many delicate branches.
'Laurelin and Telperion,' Steven realized as if he were struck by a bolt of lightning, 'The two trees of Valinor.'
Above the three archways was an elaborate depiction of the stars, only they weren't the stars Steven had seen every night in the heavens. These were the stars and constellations of Arda, and there was also a branch work of lines connecting the constellations creating a beautiful knot work of lines.
'Star chart,' Steven realized, 'the Numenoreans were mariners. They used the stars to sail at night, to lead them home. These are trade routes.' Steven smiled at the ingenious design and made a mental note to ask the Steward about them.
Once Steven had finished gawking at the beauty, he set about finding the secret to opening the doors. He looked at the inlaid inscription and thought about what the Steward had told him about how to enter the tomb. All he could tell Steven was that only those that could speak aloud the inscription could enter. The inscription was simple and read as thus:
"Here now lieth the earthly remains of Arthadan, Son of Amandil: King of the Numenoreans of Terra. Be ye friend, speaketh so, and enter my tomb." The inscription was cryptic but straight forward, and it puzzled Steven, until he put it into context.
"Can you get it open?" Connor asked, "What does it say?"
"Oh, it's simple really, you just speak the password and the doors will open," Steven said. He saw the dubious expression on the Irishman's face and explained. "It's not a physical mechanism that holds it shut. These doors are protected by a very old and powerful type of elvish magic." He looked over at the professor and saw the man's incredulous look. "Yes, well, Elvish magic, whether you believe it or not, is very real, and this spell is very specific, not to mention old; very old." Steven paused as he marveled the feeling of the spell, before he continued, "The wording is very specific, and that is the clue you see." Steven gestured up to the shimmering Tangwar script on the door. "The most literal translation and what your student probably translated it as is: here lies Arthadan, Son of Amandil: King of the Numenoreans. If you are friend, speak and enter. Or speak, friend and enter. It's almost identical to the doors of Durin; which makes sense if you know that Arthadan was a student of Celebrimbor, and a great admirer of his work and of him personally. Arthadan spent several years under the smith's care and tutelage. Celebrimbor even made Arthadan his infamous Mithril armor, but here is the kicker: Arthadan knew High Elvish as well as common Elvish, and wrote several books detailing the grammar and punctuation of it." Connor nodded and looked lost. Steven shook his head and sighed. "Don't you get it? If Arthadan was such a skilled linguist, then why is there a glaring punctuation error on the doors of his own tomb?"
Connor looked at the lettering and tried to decode the message. After a moment he gave up and looked back at Steven for answers.
"Speak, Friend, and enter," Steven quoted, "that is what it says. It means to literally speak friend and enter. It's a riddle, just like the riddle of the Doors of Durin." Steven turned to the doors and walked up the steps until he was right at the base. Then he spoke aloud, in a clear ringing voice, "Mellon".
For a second nothing happened, and then there was a grinding noise and dust and debris started to fall away from the wall. Slowly, on ancient hinges, the doors opened, their massive size made very apparent as they swung out showing two doors over three feet thick. The hinges screeched in protest but still opened to their fullest, slowly but surely revealing the chamber within. As the light breached the door, at first nothing could be seen beyond but dust, but as it settled the light streamed in to show a small domed room with curved arches and columns carved with vines, and a latticework of woven curves that had the look of a forest canopy. The walls between the columns had faded frescoes depicting battles and images of Arthadan's life. The floor was smooth and covered with black white and colored tiles, in a pattern that Steven couldn't recognize that radiated out from the center of the room.
Then they looked toward the center and they saw it: there, in the center of the room, lying in all its glory, was the sarcophagus. It was large and magnificent in quiet austere glory. It was carved from white stone, and it was simple. It was more like a stone table or an altar, with a lovely lattice of pointed arches, bisected by a long line and in the very center was the tree of Numenor, its branches spread as if to hold up the great burden it now bore. And lying on the stone top was Arthadan himself, carved meticulously from the same white stone. His was head cradled on a stone pillow, his hands holding the magnificent sword Celebrimbor had forged from him, his mighty kite shield resting on his legs, his helm at his feet, and his whole form draped in cloth. Carved the way he was, with a fair and delicate crown on his brow, he was every inch the king of legend, and at an impressive height of 6 foot two inches there was no doubt he was Elendil's brother. His face was carved in the most impressive detail, and was peaceful, the lines of age washed away by the gentle smile on his lips in death. Upon his breast was a chain, disappearing into his robes, most likely the Star of Arthadan, and held in his left hand just below the guard of his sword, was a second chain. Upon it was as simple cross, no decorations or ornamentation, just a cross that rested over the fuller of his blade.
Steven suddenly felt tears of heavy sorrow spring to his eyes, and felt the imprinted emotions of those who entered this tomb before them; mourning the loss of their beloved king. Steven swallowed back the emotions and moved to help the archeologists remove the ornate cover stone from the sarcophagus. The casket within was large but still understated in a way that was not what was expected of a king. It was almost a simple wooden box if it weren't for the carving and scroll work on in, Steven would have thought it plain. But laying his eyes upon the casket of his ancestor was moving in a way that he had never felt before.
"Look at the intricacy of the carving, and the scrollwork," Katie said, her voice soft and full of awe. She held up her torch to get a better look and saw the remains of what was once a wreath of flowers lying in the sarcophagus. "I've never seen such detail." She looked up at her professor with a giddy grin.
"I don't think anyone has. I've never seen its' like," he said, looking at the carved lettering on the lit. "This casket hasn't been seen in almost fifteen hundred years. And no one has laid eyes on this tomb in over a thousand years." The assistants all breathed sighs of awe at the beauty of its simple design, but time was one thing they didn't have enough of. "Alright folks, let's get it out of there and back up to the lab tent, where we can get a better look at it."
The group nodded and with careful hands slipped straps under the casket between the elevated plinths that held the casket above the stone bottom of the sarcophagus to prevent rot. Then they carefully lifted the casket out of its resting place. It felt lighter than it should have, but unbeknownst to them, Steven was using his powers to lighten the load. After they lifted it out of the stone sarcophagus, they carefully made their way to the great hall, through the door, and placed it on the metal stands. They added more straps, and pulled them together with a ring. Once they had finished the professor looked up to the large opening made by the now open light shafts.
"Lower the hook, Donny," he called up. A moment later a crane hook was lowered though the opening and low enough for them to hook the ring to it. "Alright," he called up again after making sure the clasp was fast, "raise him up!"
The temporary lab set up on the green outside the tomb was impressive to say the least. It had all the comforts of a modern lab with examination equipment and a clean room for x-rays and decontamination. It is here where the archeologists roll the trolley and casket, and begin the careful process of removing the dirt and detritus off the cover and out of the scrollwork. It takes them over an hour to pick, brush and clean the caked in rotted flowers and dirt from the inscription.
"Alright, lads," Connor said as he looked over the cover once more, "Let's have a look at it, shall we?" Connor brought over a notebook and pen, and went about copying the inscription. Most professors would have made a rubbing, but the soft ridges of the scrollwork would have made it illegible. It took him only a moment to copy the runes, and then handed them off to Katie and Steven to translate. Steven, who had been taught the Tangwar since he was little, knew it a little better than an academic, but he kept his mouth shut and pointed out the glaring errors in translation only when necessary.
"Alright," Katie said, "I think we've got it."
"Is it him," one of the assistants asked, "is it really the King of the Numenoreans?" Katie shot him a scathing look and relished in his quailing expression before continuing.
"It says this: here now lieth the earthly form of our lord and King, Arthadan Son of Amandil. May he rest in peace, until we need him again. That's it, that's all it says." Katie looked over to the professor who looked even more enraptured than before. "What now?"
"Now we break the seal, and see what's inside," he said. Connor went to the table and carefully picked up a chisel and hammer. Steven at first balked, but his own curiosity got the better of him, and he grabbed a second chisel. Connor grinned at him, before he went about carefully chipping away the wax seal around the lip of the lid; sealing the casket air tight. It was slow going at first but then they got a chisel under the lip, and began to pry it up. There was a slight hiss as air was sucked into the casket, and after some careful prying they opened the casket that had been sealed for 1500 years. They removed the lid as one and carried it over to a table for further study.
A sudden intake of breath from Steven drew the archeologists back to the casket and the remains within. Steven gaped in awe, stunned beyond reason, as he gazed upon the face of Arthadan, untouched by time or decay. In fact it looked as if he had been buried just that morning, not 1500 years before. What's more is that he looked just like Steve, just as the paintings and statues had depicted him. But whereas Steve was young, full of vim and vigor, at the prime of his life, Arthadan's once golden locks were shot with silver and the lines of age and care had begun to crease his face. He looked peaceful though, his face far younger than Steven would have guessed, and the same gentle smile on the sarcophagus lid graced his careworn face.
His clothing was an exact duplicate of the ones in the castle not far from the tomb, and his armor was a quality replica of it as well. It was ceremonial in quality, but Steven knew from the writings and history that Arthadan had worn it into battle many times. This one was pristine, where as the one in the castle was worn and had been repaired in spots, where it had been torn and cut. A replica of his sword was on his chest, clasped in his hands, just as it was shown on the sarcophagus, and his Great Silver Kite Shield lay on his legs. The winged helmet lay at his feet and his cloak wrapped around his shoulders and over his feet. On his left hand is a copy of the signet ring of his house on his pointer finger, and a simple gold wedding band wrapped around his ring finger. Just as on the great lid had shown, clasped in his left hand was a simple silver cross, on a thin chain of Mithril.
Steven could not believe the level of preservation that had been done to the body, and was stunned by the beauty and quality of the craftsmanship of even a copy of his armor and sword.
"Look at the level of preservation," he said, awe and respect in his voice, "he looks as if he died yesterday."
"Aye," Connor said his voice breathless and filled with awe, "that it is. They knew what they were doin', those Numenoreans, that's for sure." Katie ran her hands over the fine silk brocade along the edge of the velvet tunic.
"And for a replica of the original armor and cloth, it is astonishingly well done," Steven remarked. Connor nodded in a daze, enraptured by the armor and clothing himself; almost ignoring Steven in favor of studying the workmanship. Steven rolled his eyes at the academics gaping at the corpse of a dead king, when he noticed an inscription on the sword that didn't match the original.
"In life, thou once were, now in death/ so shall to life he be given once more. /When need is dire/ Hope waned and lost/ Remember thou Luthien and Beren/ whom life was given anew/ and give life once more/ Where life is gone. /These Words now Spoken/ Power to them given/ Rise o Lord of Numenor/ and Sleep no more." Steven spoke the words aloud and as he spoke them, his voice began to echo and reverberate, great Power flowing through them and him, as he read them. As he finished the inscription, he felt a power flow through him and out of him, and he stumbled. He looked up and saw a light emit from the sword. The light seemed to come from the words, glowing like the Ithildin inscription on the tomb doors, but soon it was not the only thing glowing. Arthadan's body took on the same golden white glow, his whole form lit from within.
"What's going on," Katie asked as she staggered back. She screamed as a great rumble of thunder broke the sky, and the tent began to shake with a sudden wind. The sky darkened and lightning flashed, and the heaven's rumbled and cracked with thunder. All at once Steven felt a great force take hold of him from within. He opened his mouth and it was not his voice that came out, but a Voice full of Power and strength. It rang out of him like the blast of a trumpet, a command that would not be ignored nor denied.
"Wake!"
Arthadan's eyes flew open and he gasped for breath, his back arching up from within the casket, as life was breathed back into him by some unknown force. Arthadan sat up and looked down at his hands, no longer grasping his sword, but still holding the cross on the silver chain. He looked up, and about him in confusion before he set eyes on Steven. A broad smile spilt his handsome face, and his eyes once more sparkled with joy and life. And there Steven stood, stunned to muteness: Arthadan lived.
TBC…
End note: dun, dun, da… cliffhanger! Sorry, but this was getting very long. I hope you like it, and I will load up the drawings for the tomb and the sarcophagus as soon as I can, but for now you'll have to live with the Doors of Arthadan first.
Next chapter is a continuation of the last, and a bit more consequences.
I Hope you like it and give me a kudos and review, because they always make me feel good. Yay art work! I will upload the drawing I have for the previous story, later. It's only a figure, but I hope you'll all like it.
