After parting with Elrohir in Osgiliath, Thelron followed the South Road and several days later arrived at his former dwelling place in Calembel. That night after dinner, the young captain came to sit next to his father in the parlour, and following some small talk he told the older man that he had learned of his deeds during the War of the Ring. The Northerner remained silent, and a moment later Thelron added, "Why did you not tell me about it, father?"
"It was not important," replied Aldanur.
"How can you say that?" said the younger man. "You defended the kingdom against the greatest foe it's ever faced."
Aldanur shrugged. "And now we are ruled by the Lord of Minas Tirith instead of the Lord of Barad-dûr. What difference does it make?"
Thelron was astonished by the comparison; it seemed extreme, even for his father. Something must have happened at some point, he thought, that had caused Aldanur to drastically change his attitude towards the realm. He sat back, brought his hand to his chin and looked at his father pensively for a while. "What happened to you, father?" he said at length. "What are you not telling me?"
Aldanur turned his eyes towards the hearth and stared absently at the burning logs for what seemed like a long time, then without lifting his gaze, he said quietly, "My father was a Ranger of the North - one of the men who followed the Lord Aragorn, whom we now call king." Following that he recounted to his son all that had befallen after the return of the Chieftain of the Dúnedain to the North and up to his and his mother's coming to Gondor.
The revelation awed the young captain; for the tales he had heard about the old Rangers of the North often ascribed to them an almost mythical status, and he felt then a mixture of pride and sorrow. Nevertheless, he knew there had to be more to the story, for naught he had heard so far explained his father's cold attitude towards the realm. "But that is not all, father, is it?" he said.
Aldanur looked at his son silently for a few seconds, then stood up, walked towards the window and gazed at the hills in the distance. "A few months after the end of the war," he said after a moment, "the King announced that all titles and possessions of the old kingdoms of the North would be returned to their original owners, as long as their descendants had fought on the side of the heirs of Isildur. Upon hearing this, I went to Sir Thannor and told him about my family, and he said that he would be happy to look into the matter."
The Northerner's eyes rested for an instant on a picture of a ship in stormy seas, the only decoration in the house, but then he quickly looked away, as if disgusted by it. After a moment he walked towards the fireplace and began to rearrange the burning logs. "A few months later," he resumed, "Sir Thannor told me that my father's name appeared indeed in the heritage records, which had been kept in Imladris since the fall of Fornost; and that according to them, Maegorn, for that was my father's name, had been in life the rightful heir to a large barony in the old Kingdom of Arthedain."
"So, with your father gone," said the young captain, "would you not then have become the rightful heir to that land?"
"The rightful heir I am," replied Aldanur, "but the lands and titles have gone to another man."
"I don't understand," said the younger man.
Aldanur started back towards his armchair, took a seat and fixed his eyes on his son. "After my father died," he said after a short while, "and we moved to the South, they assumed that the line had ended." He sneered. "The next time they updated the records, the man with the next highest claim was put in as heir to our family's estate."
"Did you not try to set the record straight?" asked Thelron.
The Northerner at that moment clutched the mug handle in his hand until his knuckles turned white. "Before you were born," he said, "I traveled to the North to claim our inheritance, but failed to win back that which was taken from us."
"What happened?" asked Thelron.
Aldanur twisted his mouth and said in a callous tone, "I told him to lay down his claim and return the lands to their rightful owners, but he snorted and called me a charlatan, so I drew my sword and killed him." He paused for a moment and then added quietly, "Then I fled the land of my forefathers to return never again."
A fortnight later, on the eve of Thelron's departure, Aldanur came to him holding a large object in his arms. The Northerner laid the item on the table and began to unwrap it carefully as Thelron looked on: it was a magnificent sword. "This is Beldram," said the older man. "It was given to me by Sir Thannor, and it is said to have been forged by the great craftsmen of Dor-en-Ernil in the days of Imrazôr the Númenórean, ere the last of the elves of Edhellond departed our shores." After that he handed it to his son and said, "I want you to have it."
Thelron was utterly amazed. "Thank you, father," he said. "This is an invaluable present; it will be my most cherished possession." And Aldanur quickly looked away, uncharacteristically.
In the summer of Fo.A. 51, commander Hérion summoned his captains to an urgent meeting. "I have been informed," he said, "that Captain Doron's scouts have discovered a large fortress under construction to the south of our main settlement." Following that he ordered Thelron and Horngîl to march to the area and drive out the Southerners.
On the day following the departure of the two captains, quite unexpectedly, King Elessar arrived at the Crossing of Poros accompanied by a small guard. The king's intention was to visit the settlements at The Hook, and his journey, for security reasons, had been kept secret from all but a handful of important men. It soon became apparent, however, that the enemy had somehow received word of the coming of the king, for on the very next day a dire threat appeared in the south: three thousand men, with curved swords and fierce faces of red and gold, marched towards the crossing under a banner bearing an image of three entwined snakes.
As the sun neared its peak over the plains of the Harondor on that forenoon, the painted men reached the edge of the river, then moved onto the bridge and marched silently towards their opponents. But as they came within a few dozen yards of the defenders, the Southerners drew out their blades, and then with a thunderous warshout, rushed forth towards the Westerners. The small Gondorian line soon began give way in the face of the onslaught, and overwhelmed by the superior force, King Elessar was forced to order the men to retreat behind the walls of the fort and prepare to withstand a siege.
Ignorant of what was taking place back at the crossing, Thelron continued his march towards the Barkum building site. At length, he came upon a troop of scouts from the Desert Watch who were making their way east, and beckoned to them. As the watchmen drew near, the Lamedonian asked them about the status of the enemy fortress, to which the leader of the group responded that construction on the building had ceased and that the adjoining fighter's camp had been recently abandoned.
Greatly puzzled by the actions of the enemy, Thelron and Horngîl began to discuss at once the significance of these new developments. At one point the Lamedonian remarked that this may have been a ploy by the enemy to draw them away from the crossing, and on hearing this the scout leader muttered to himself, "So that's the reason..."
Thelron turned to look at the watchman. "Explain yourself," he demanded.
"I was thinking of those reports about the Barkum movements, sir," replied the scout. "If this was indeed an attempt to lure you _"
"I know of no reports of Barkum movements," interrupted Thelron.
The scout then told the Lamedonian that the enemy had, over a period of several weeks, moved three thousand men to western edge of the Mountains of Shadow; and this new piece of intelligence staggered the captains. "Why were we not informed of this?" demanded Thelron.
"That I do not know, sir," replied the watchman.
Thelron decided to return to the fort at once, but knowing that it would take his foot soldiers too long to reach the crossing, he ordered his horsemen to ride ahead at full marching speed and leave the infantry behind. Upon reaching the low hills to the south of the crossing, the Lamedonian cast his gaze towards the fort and saw that Ublayr's men had started to breach the western wall. And knowing that he had not much time, he immediately drew out his sword and turned his mount around to face his men; thereupon he cried out to them, "Men of Gondor," and lastly, pointing his blade towards the Barkum, roared, "to them!"
The violence of the ensuing charge split the enemy lines and allowed the horsemen to reach the south-end of the bridge. They continued to fight their way through to the other end, at which point Horngîl turned west with half of the horsemen, while Thelron continued to ride northeast until he came within a hundred feet of the fort's tower. Seconds later the Lamedonian raised his hand to signal to the tower guard that his men were in position, and it was at that moment that he saw the stranger.
Several dozen yards to the east of the captain stood a lone rider, who watched the struggle in stony stillness. He was clad all in black and wore what appeared to be a red mask over his face; and as Thelron watched him, an odd sense of timelessness came over him. The Lamedonian continued to gaze at the mysterious individual for a few seconds, enthralled by his ghostly presence, the same mystifying aura that had so puzzled his father long years before on the fields of the Pelennor. Then the captain heard a loud noise to the southwest and took his eyes away from the rider for an instant; but when he turned back his head, the black horseman had vanished, as if it had been naught but a vision.
A short while later the tower guard returned to his post, and the scheme was set in motion: at a sign from Thelron, Horngîl charged at the Barkum from the west, following that the Lamedonian did the same from the north, and finally the fort's gates opened and Hérion's cavalry, led forth by the Lord of the West, fell on the enemy from the east.
Faced with mounted foes on three sides, the Barkum fell into disarray and soon began to fall back towards the bridge. As they did so, they blocked the advance of their comrades, who had regrouped on the other side of the river and were now coming to their aid. And with his fighters crammed and unable to manoeuvre, Ublayr ordered his men to retreat to the southern bank and assume a defensive stance.
Then the men of Gondor, lined up along the northern shore, watched in amazement as Ublayr removed his top and began to walk alone across the bridge. As he came within a few yards of the soldiers, he stopped, pulled out a small dagger and dragged the tip across his chest, drawing a trickle of blood. After that he pointed the dagger at Thelron and said in the common tongue of the West, "You will die." He then turned around, walked towards the Banner of the Three Snakes, grabbed hold of it and led his men back to their base.
A few weeks after the attack, Hérion summoned Thelron to his office for a private word. "There is some new information that I wish to share with you," said the commander. "Until it has been reviewed by the Council of Gondor, this information remains confidential and must not leave this room."
"I understand, sir," said the Lamedonian.
The commander then told Thelron to take a seat next to him. "Lord Filegaer," he said, "who as you know is tasked with overseeing the activities of the men of the Desert Watch, stopped here this morning on his return journey from a visit to their headquarters." Then he leant closer to the Lamedonian and continued in a low voice, "He told me that Captain Doron has betrayed the realm. After withholding critical information for many weeks, the Head of the Desert Watch and a handful of his aides abandoned their post and fled towards the east, in all likelihood to the Barkum camp near the Black Falls."
Four years after the attack on the fort at the Crossing of Poros, Thelron received word that Aldanur was unwell. He asked for leave to go and see his father and then prepared to depart for Calembel, unaware of the profound significance of the revelation that awaited him there.
When he told Horngîl that he was worried about leaving his post, the latter replied, "Go to your father and be not concerned about the Southerners. Things here are under control."
Thelron shook his head slightly. "I don't like it; Ublayr's been too quiet," he replied. "And there's this dark foreboding in my mind."
"Another vision?" laughed Horngîl. Then he continued in a more serious tone, "What can he do? He already tried to take the fort and failed."
"Nonetheless," said Thelron, "he's proven quite cunning in the past. We must remain alert."
Thelron arrived in Calembel early in the evening. The sky was covered with dark clouds, and he was certain that a storm was imminent. When he got to his childhood's home, his aunt told him that Aldanur was lying in bed, and he went at once to see the old man. With a tender smile, he told his father that he was certain that his old legs would soon be up and going about their chores as usual, but Aldanur looked earnestly at him and said, "Long have I walked under the sun by the reckoning of the common man, but little joy my heart has known along the path. It is time for me to depart."
Thelron laid his hand on his father's forearm and bowed his head in sorrow. A second later he heard the sound of thunder roaring in the distance and saw through the window that rain had started to fall. "It will be a wicked storm," he said.
"But ere I go," said Aldanur, after a moment, "there is one task left yet for me." Following that he turned his gaze towards his wardrobe and looked at the worn-down cabinet for a short while with mournful eyes, as one who witnesses the departure of a dear friend. He then asked his son to retrieve a small box of fine carved wood that was hidden behind the old piece of furniture. After Thelron had done so, the old man set the box down on the bed next to himself and said, "There is something that I must give to you; It is an item of great value." Thereupon he opened the box, pulled out a medallion and handed it with reverence to his son.
Thelron examined the item and saw that it bore an image of a tall, slender tower overlooking a harbour. After a moment he said, "It is an exquisitely crafted silver piece; it must be very expensive."
The old man shook his head. "Its value cannot be measured in coin," he said; "it represents something much more important."
"And what is that?" asked the younger man.
Aldanur ignored the question. "This medallion has been in our care for a very long time," he said. "It has passed from father to firstborn son for many generations, and from this day on it will be yours to guard."
"In our care?" said Thelron with a baffled expression. "Who does it belong to?"
The old man took a small scroll out of the box wherein the medallion had been, handed it to his son and said, "Read it. It will tell you all you need to know."
Thelron heard a blast of thunder at that moment, looked to the window and saw that the storm had grown fierce. He then unfurled the scroll and noticed that the first part was written in strange characters that he did not understand, but which appeared to him similar to those he had seen on some old Elvish artifacts. Below that, however, there was text written in the common tongue:
.
Fornost Erain, Third Age 1973
I am Beriedir son of Belefaer, Baron of Arthedain and keeper of the medallion that accompanies this scroll. Given the importance of the ancient Sindarin text above and the dire situation in which our kingdom finds itself, I have decided to add the following translation of the text into the common language. I have done this in the hope that the information herein may endure even if our kingdom is destroyed and our ways forgotten.
-§§§-
Annúminas, Kingdom of Arnor, year 3327 of the Second Age of the Sun.
My name is Haeron son of Faelon. My mother Eliedis was Lady-in-Waiting to Tar-Míriel of Númenor. The medallion that accompanies this note was given to me by Her Royal Highness on the day I left the city of Armenelos to join the Elendili at the haven of Rómenna. In the following account I describe all that befell, as well as my own impressions, during my meeting with the last Queen of Númenor.
...
As I prepared to leave the city, I was summoned to the drawing room in the western quarter of the Royal Palace. When I entered I saw the Queen standing alone in the centre of the room holding a small box in her hands, and in that instant she seemed to me like a delicate flower, fair and fragile. She bade me approach and then said softly, "There is an object that is very near to my heart, and it is my wish that it survive the evil that approaches." She hesitated for a second and then continued, "There are few now I can trust, and though your eyes have seen not eighteen winters, my heart tells me that it is with you that I should place my hope." After that the daughter of Tar-Palantir opened the box and pulled out a medallion, and as she did her hand seemed to tremble slightly. Then she held it up and looked upon the image for the last time.
After a moment the Queen put the silver piece back in the box, handed it to me and said, unable to hide the sorrow in her voice, "This medallion bears an image of the Tower of Avallónë in Tol Eressëa, and it was blessed by Tar-Minastir upon the hallowed grounds of the Meneltarma. Take it with you to the new home of our people in the East, keep it safe and hold it in great reverence, for it portrays the land of undying bliss as it was once beheld by the eyes of mortal men." And I vowed to her that I would guard it with my life. Then the Queen walked over to the balcony and gazed at the gathering gloom above. And it seemed to me that her eyes darkened as she looked towards the West, for her heart told her that many fair and noble things were at an end and the world would soon be changed forever.
And though I witnessed the breaking of Arda and saw thousands cry out in anguish as the sea swallowed the Land of the Star, the image that yet haunts my dreams and rips my heart is the quiet despair in the eyes of fair Míriel.
.
Thelron was dumbstruck. He found it hard to believe that he held in his hand an item that had belonged to the last member of the royal line of Elros. He tried to imagine what Haeron might have felt as he left the palace and walked the streets under those ominous clouds, as he saw the turmoil of a mighty race about to meet its fate, or as he experienced the eerie calm that preceded the last days of Númenor.
Thelron also thought that it was amazing that his forefathers had been able to keep the medallion safe throughout the convulsions of the Third Age and felt suddenly that the piece was too important to be guarded by anyone other than the King. "Now that the Kingdom is strong again", he said to his father, "perhaps we should inform the King so that _"
"No!" cried Aldanur. Then he gripped his son's forearm and said forcefully, "This is not the Ring of Barahir or any other heirloom of the Royal House, and belongs not to the realm. It was entrusted to us and shall endure beyond the days of the House of Elendil." Thelron started to say something, but his father continued, "This is a symbol of what once was, and preserving it is our family's purpose. They may take away our lands and titles, but they cannot make us forsake our vow to the Queen of Númenor."
Thelron remained silent for a moment as he looked pensively into his father's eyes. The words of the old man had aroused a strange feeling in him, a sentiment that went beyond king and country: he had somehow begun to feel a personal bond with the Lady of a realm that had passed into legend long ago. At length he said, "I think I understand you, father. The fate of the medallion is bound to our family, and so it must remain."
A few days later Thelron was ready to return to the Crossing of Poros. He said goodbye to his father with a heavy heart, for he knew that he would not see him again.