(AN: I'm a little wary going into this story. Looking back on Last Alliance and Shadow of the East, my previous Tolkien fics are awful! Like, little better than the other bad fics on here! How can i possibly make something good from something i love so much that my standard for derivative works from it are already astronomically high?)

(Oh well, here's hoping that my years with Elder Scrolls stories have given my writing some measure of improvement.)


Lord of Vamag

For seven days the host remained at Umbar as the preparations were being made for the journey into the northwestern cape of the Blood Fells. Most of their food and wine had been spent on the voyage by sea from Numenor, and now they would need even more: a long voyage through the dry, arid land to Vamag awaited them. But cross it they must, for Adunaphel was determined to make for herself a fief of her own. Umbar was, for the moment, in the hands of another lord.

During that seven day period, Adunaphel was restless. Her personal effects were stored, and it was vain to take them out since, before long, they would be on their way. It was her wont to play her lute every morning and sing a song: for, as it was in the days of the greatness of the Dunedain, a lord or lady of high standing was expected to be skilled and well-learned in more than one vocation. Captains of men were also learned in lore reaching back to the dawning of Men, or of that which the Eldar knew of the days before the Sun and Moon. As such, Adunaphel was learned in the fine, creative arts as well as those of warfare and dominion.

Furthermore, Adunaphel was, despite her better attributes, vain and grasping. During her blossoming years from girl to womanhood, she realized that she was beautiful. Through the years, her beauty did not fade. As she undertook her private education back in Numenor, she was aware that she was skilled as well as beautiful: this did nothing to assuage her vanity. As a noble-woman, only the foolish dared to contradict her or claim that she was not the most beautiful or the most talented. As the long years passed and the restlessness of mortals beset her, it came into her mind that, if she was indeed fair and cunning and of noble birth, she must also receive such things as befitting those who were high and mighty. A throne she had not in Numenor, and thus, like others, had come to Middle Earth, seeking glory unending and wealth. As it is with those who are vain, Adunaphel often permitted her skill and cunning to be displayed. Not merely for exercise of her craft did she play her lute and sing every morning: it was also to display her great skill and receive the adulation meet for one so great.

But now her lute was stored away and her mood was too low for song. She sat upon her horse, a black charger clad in armor that shone like silver. With her left hand she drummed idly upon the fauld of her armor, plucking the strings of her lute in her mind; and with her right hand she held the reins. At her side was Abrazir and Zadnazir, the captains of her personal guard. Each of them were mounted, for Adunaphel was wealthy enough to afford to purchase mounts for her personal guard. These horses had been purchased in the markets of Armenelos, the finest of the Mittalmar breed from the Inlands of Numenor, and, at great expense, had been transported across the sea for this expedition. For the Men of the West kept and bred horses in the central grasslands of their great island kingdom.

Adunaphel's thoughts were not on her horses, but on the company that was gathering at the gates, where she sat on her horse at its head. They would make the three-day journey across the desert sands to Vamag. The host was small, less than a vanguard of any great army. But these were all she had, loyal retainers of her family's house and those she levied from Forostar: and she was ambitious, confident in her own martial skill and her ability to lead a small group to victory. Some might have called her overconfident, but she had never lost a battle: then again, she had never fought a true foe.

"My lord," Abrazir said, noticing the lady's nervousness. "Is everything alright?"

"We're moving too slowly," she returned.

Abrazir chuckled. "You've been saying that for the past seven days, my lord."

"I enjoy your good humor, Abrazir," she returned curtly. "But this is not the time for idle jesting." That sixteen hundred men could not be assembled in quicker order was an annoyance to her.

"Surely," she continued, speaking aloud but not looking directly at Abrazir. "If we waste our time in preparation, we may yet find Vamag held against us in force."

"That I find unlikely, my lord," Abrazir stated. He then called back down the company and waved his hand. Presently, an escort of two of the lady's personal guard appeared. Standing between them was one of the Southrons: a short man with short hair upon his head and a black beard upon his chin that was almost as long as a Dwarf's beard. He was dressed in a loose fitting crimson robe without a belt. Upon each finger was a gold ring, upon both of his wrists were golden bracelets, and a gold chain hung about his neck.

"This is Jubayr," Abrazir introduced. "He will serve for us as our translator."

"You waited seven days to present one before me?" Adunaphel asked. "I thought you were better than that."

"I would have found one sooner, my lord," Abrazir returned. "But that interpreters are in great demand and hard to come by. As usual, my lord, I found one of the best to serve you. Jubayr not only speaks three of the seven known Southron dialects, but is familiar with the land where we will be going. I trust you will find him very useful to your cause."

"That remains to be seen," Adunaphel stated. She then turned to the shorter man. "Why do you not bow?"

"Harwan do not bow to the sea-peoples," Jubayr replied, a smile on his face.

"Is that what the court of Umbar permits?" Adunaphel returned, a scowl contorting her fair face. "You will bow before your new king."

"Why, my lady?" asked Jubayr. "There are no kings, save for the chieftains of our own people."

"My lord will do!" Adunaphel curtly interjected.

Jubayr seemed surprised, but, under the stern gaze of Adunaphel and her guards, he relented with a gentle inclination of his head.

"Pardon me, my lord," Jubayr excused. "It is not our custom to regard the sea-people as lords. Our tales tell of the benevolence and wisdom of the sea-people. They came with peace, wisdom, friendship and cunning skill in their hands."

"Now we come with the scepter of dominion," Adunaphel stated. "The sooner your people realize and accept this, the easier it will go for you. Now then, tell me about the land known in your tongue as Vamag."

"There is little to tell of there," said Jubayr. "It faces the sea, with cliffs along the northern border that form the hill on the end of the peninsula. Around there are rocky shores and further inland, sparse grass and red clay make up the rest of that region."

"And the people there?" Adunaphel asked. "Who lives there now? What strength do they have?"

"Small groups of fisher-folk," Jubayr replied. "They keep to themselves, though the chieftains of Near Harad trade with them for fish. Such food is a rare commodity the farther east one goes from the coast, where the sun is hot and the white sands burn the skin."

"That will do, Jubayr," Adunaphel stated. In her mind, she was weighing what her small force of sixteen hundred might have to face if it came down to blows. But from what the interpreter said, they had nothing to worry about: fisher-folk would certainly scatter like creeping insects at the onset of even a small armed host.

"How far is it to Vamag from here?" she asked.

"About six days journey on foot," replied the Southron.

"Very good," she nodded. Turning to one of her guards, she ordered him to get a horse for Jubayr. She then looked down at the rings on his fingers. "You seem to have done rather well for yourself."

"A man of my skill," he said proudly. "Can profit greatly by using them."

"Indeed," she returned. "And if you serve me well, you shall win for yourself great reward and renown that shall pass down upon all your descendants."

"I am greatly honored," Jubayr nodded.

"As well you should be," she replied. As soon as she had made an end to speaking, a rider approached the lady and saluted with a fist pounded upon his breast-plate. With him was her guard with a horse for Jubayr, which the short man mounted easily.

"My lord," he said. "We are assembled."

"Finally," she returned. "Abrazir, have the heralds sound the trumpets. We move out now!"

A loud fanfare blasted upon silver trumpets, and the sound of marching feet picked up as the Numenorean soldiers marched their way out of the city gates. At the head of the company rode Adunaphel, her personal guards and their interpreter. As they were passing out of the northern gate of Umbar, Adunaphel checked her horse and turned about to look back at the great city. It was not yet swollen to its full might, but even here, in its youth, the port city was a wonder to behold.

"Farewell, queen of the cities," she muttered towards the walls. "I shall return to you: then to rule."


The host that set out from Umbar was not as great as it had been when it left the port of Romenna in Westernesse. Four hundred sailors remained anchored in her fleet of twenty black-sailed ships. The small host that Adunaphel now led was only sixteen hundred, but that was more than enough, in her estimation. They had little choice but to go by land: for, during the seven days of planning, she and Abrazir had gone over the map of the western coast of Haradwaith every night. The largest peninsula of the Glinfalas, with the Blood-Fells at its northwestern tip, was separated from the sands of Near Harad by a chain of mountains that extended northeastward as far as the Harnen River. From the sea, the red sandstone mountains made the Blood Fells and the lands around it seem very much the same: they might miss it even upon a clear day. But more than simply convenience, Adunaphel wanted to display her might before the people they might encounter. If Jubayr was correct, then all the better that the fisher-folk of Vamag see the might of her host.

Therefore they went on foot, following the wain-paths made by traders and caravans of old. It was a slow, winding and indirect road, skirting the coast-line for many miles as there were no paths through the mountains in the heart of the peninsula. Every day was filled with blinding brightness from the sun above, that beat down upon them in waves of dry heat. So great was the heat that the men found that breathing the hot air was as exhausting as marching in full armor. Even the wind blown from off the sea was not very cool while the sun was shining. There were no trees farther inland, and here on the coast, only two types of trees grew. Most were stunted things only about man-high, that offered no protection from the scorching sun; the others were tall palms with narrow fronds that gave little shade. Only when darkness fell at night did the sea-breeze become cool enough to take away the memory of the burning heat of the day. But on the northern side of the camp, where the sea-breeze died out, there was hot air even at night.

After marching non-stop for one day, taking rest only when there was no light to guide them, the host made camp a little off the road. Before the morning dawned, the trumpets sounded again and they began in the dim hours of early morning, hoping to gain some miles before the heat of the day overtook them. By the time the sun climbed into the sky and the unbearable heat beat down upon them, they met a fork in the road: one path continued along the coast-line, while the other turned off towards the northwest. After a short consultation of their map, Adunaphel ordered the company to take the right-hand path that led northwest: this path would shave off at least another day's journey around the coast-line of one of the three peninsulae of Glinfalas.

The second day of their voyage took them along the northern end of the inner peninsula to its bay, where they made camp for the night. The next day they crossed the bay at a ford, pausing only slightly to wash the dust off their bodies in the cool sea water of the ford. Though they had met no opposition, Adunaphel would not permit her men to doff their livery or armor, in case they met with assaults on their way. Therefore they were all of them, to a man, exhausted beyond belief and more than grateful for the chance to bathe and wash away the dust and heat of travel. Adunaphel did not bathe, but ordered her personal servant to fill a clay jug with water, which she washed her face therewith and was refreshed.

After many of them had been washed and refreshed, they continued their march. To make up for the long delay at the ford, they marched at a quicker pace than the previous days. By nightfall, they could see before them, a dark line upon the otherwise golden-white sandy horizon before them and to the right. After consulting with the map and with Jubayr, Adunaphel ordered their tents to be set up: the dark line was the edge of a forest that clung to an arm of the mountains on the peninsula that reached down towards their path. They were getting close.

The fourth day of their expedition dawned with no resistance: the only assault came from the sun beating down upon them. After this many days, the Dunedain were red-faced and sore from the endless hours of marching beneath the sun. Jubayr showed them how to keep the sun out by wrapping their heads and faces with cloth. This they did, sacrificing some of their own stores of cloth to keep the sun off of them. This helped in the majority of the day, when the sun climbed over the forest that gathered upon the right-hand of their path. To their left, on the other side of the bay, they could see the longest arm of the peninsula like a red line on the horizon, reaching down southward to bar their path. As the day came to a close, they made camp about a mile from the last ford, where their path would take them down the coastal line of that far peninsula. Here once more Adunaphel summoned Abrazir and Jubayr into her tent to discuss their plan.

"My lord," Jubayr greeted, a warm, assuring smile on his face. "Let me be the first to congratulate you on your progress. Never before have I seen a host of the sea-people travel across the barren lands of the Harwan. You tread across land as swiftly as you do the sea."

"Well said," Adunaphel replied. "You certainly know how to compliment your future lord." She then turned to Abrazir. "How are the men? Can they continue the journey?"

"Our supplies of water are running dangerously low," Abrazir stated. "And there have been no wells to be found in yon forest to the east. By the Valar, the trees in this country seem to grow from the very sand, living off the heat and dryness!"

Adunaphel scowled. Abrazir's words were not to her liking. Though the Men of Westernesse feared and worshiped the Valar, the Kings Men held them in quiet contempt. Upon the shoulders of Numenor were placed these two dooms inescapable: that, as Men, they must die and that, though they had mastery over the seas to the north, south and east, they may not sail west so far that Numenor disappear from sight. But for Adunaphel, there was a personal distrust for the Valar and their chiefest of servants, the immortal Eldar.

"Can we reach Vamag with what we have?" she asked.

"Not likely," Abrazir lamented. Adunaphel waved her hand and one of her scribes brought forth the map of Hardwaith, which was unfurled before them. Abrazir pointed towards the peninsula at its eastern bay. "We are here. The road follows the eastern coast here, but comes to an end at the tip of the peninsula." He traced his finger along its side. "Then, almost twice that count of leagues around the cape to reach Vamag, with no path to follow other than the shore. We cannot make this journey in six days, with four already behind us."

"Why did you say that we could make the journey in six days?" Adunaphel asked, turning to Jubayr.

"Your pardon, my lords," the Southron said. "But there is another way, one which this map does not deign to show."

"Pray open this riddle," Adunaphel insisted, her patience wearing thin after Abrazir's careless remark about the Valar.

Jubayr knelt down and pointed to the map, starting at the corner of the peninsula. "Some ten leagues or more south of this ford here, there is a path which leads up into the mountains. It goes west, then bends northward, before straightening out again and arriving at a river of fresh water that comes down from the mountains. Your men may refill their water-skins there, then follow the coast to Vamag, with no need to cross the cape to the south." He pointed at the cape below.

Adunaphel's scowl softened. "You may have just saved our expedition, Jubayr. I will see to it that you are handsomely rewarded for your efforts."

"My thanks, my lord," Jubayr bowed. He was dismissed, and left with many a thanks.

"If that is all, my lord," Abrazir stated. "Then I must return to the men."

"Why did you say that?" Adunaphel asked.

"Say what, my lord?" he asked.

"'By the Valar,'" quoth Adunaphel.

"Apologies, my lady," Abrazir bowed. "It is merely a custom."

"One that I will not permit in my court at Vamag," she replied. "You of all people, knowing me better than any man, should know this."

"Forgive me, my lady," Abrazir repeated.

"I will forgive you," she said in her heart, but said aloud: "You are dismissed." He saluted, then left her tent. Meanwhile, the words he had spoken had brought back to her mind that which she believed had been long hidden. Memories of Numenor as it was, the happy and the sad.

A shadow had fallen upon her from a very young age, even in her youth upon the Isle of the Star. Her mother, Alcariel, was fair and kind, but she was also taken by a distemper that even the greatest leech-craft of the Dunedain could not wholly cure: perhaps it was the fear of death which drove her into such sullen and maddening fits, for even the Elendili, the Elf-Friends and those of the House of Silmarien, were not spared the Doom of Man. To seek relief, she sought out the wisdom and counsel of the Eldar, who often visited the Dunedain and dwelt among them for a time in Andustar. But neither her husband Adunahil nor their daughter could quite understand the sorrow that befell her.

For Adunaphel, her lessons were her solace, away from the sorrow that clung to her home. Her early years were filled with memories of raised voices shouting: arguing between her father and mother. Even when the mood did not beset Alcariel, she and her husband were often exchanging harsh words with each other. For Adunahil was of the Kings Men and did not trust the Valar, or their servants the Eldar, and saw in his wife seeking them out over him as a betrayal. The strain of dealing with one so disturbed and his own wrath at her decision, coupled with the Numenorean tradition of marrying late, caused him to die while Adunaphel was still young. As if to take up where her father left off, Adunaphel became hard and cold to her mother, chiding her for bringing death into the family. She found refuge and an ally in her uncle, her father's brother Adunazil; for he too despised the Eldar and spoke in whispers against the Ban of the Valar.

Even now, many years after her parents were dead and buried, embalmed and preserved in marble in the Halls of the Dead in Bar Forowing, the mention of the Valar brought back to Adunaphel's mind those awful memories. Though the Dunedain still feared the Valar, even the Kings Men dared not speak openly against the Ban, that did nothing to quell the unease of her people or to assuage the hatred in her heart. Parting the flap of her tent, she gazed out into the west, towards Numenor that is, and beyond to Avallone and even farther, to the Seat of the Powers in Aman, the Blessed and Undying Lands. The cold, hard woman shed a tear, then turned her back on the West.


In the morning, Adunaphel rose ere the rising of the sun, and the camp rose shortly thereafter. Last night, after wrestling with her memories, she decided to take Jubayr's advice and go through the mountains. Wherefore, since they would be leaving the shelter of the forest and enter the rough, rugged and red mountain ranges, they left before sunrise, eager to make good time in reaching the mountain pass. When at last they found it, as the sun was climbing in the sky, bearing down upon their backs, they found that the path was much narrower and rugged than they had been led to believe. Nevertheless, Adunaphel ordered her men to take that path, dismounting along with her personal guards and leading the horses after her.

Again they made excellent time and before long were entangled within the mountains, following the narrow path. Many men were becoming sick of the heat and more than a few had swooned from the exhaustion. Adunaphel, driven by her desire to conquer this rugged land, mastered herself and had not even paused in lightness of head. She drove the others on, eager to see the sea beyond the mountains. About midday, they came to a halt. One of the scouts had spotted a carcass on the road, and the company had halted when the report came back in. Taking up their weapons, Adunaphel, Abrazir, Jubayr and five of her guards followed the scout up the track to where the carcass had been found. There, lying in the road, was the body of a horse: it was a local horse, smaller than the Mittalmar horses of Numenor, or even the steeds of the Eldar bred in the far North. Its belly had been ripped open and bloody entrails lay upon the red earth.

"What could have done this?" Abrazir asked. "There aren't wolves this far south, are there?"

"What are wolves?" asked Jubayr.

"Wild dogs," clarified Abrazir. "Vicious creatures, they often hunt in packs."

"Oh, you mean the saq'yl," Jubayr replied. "Small creatures, covered in hair. The chieftains of the Harazan keep some of them as pets. It might be one of them, though."

"What other things could there be?" asked Adunaphel. "We're trusting to your judgment, Jubayr, now that we've become entangled in these mountains. All those blessings I promised will be for naught if you lead us into a trap."

"Afraid of mahudil, are you?" he asked.

"What?" both Abrazir and Adunaphel asked as one.

"The wild men of the far south," Jubayr replied. "Taller even than sea-people, skin black as night, with eyes like the white sand and tongues as red as blood. It is said they were the first ones to tame the mumakil, creatures even larger than they are." He looked at the two Dunedain, both of them with wary looks in their eyes as they looked up towards the tall cliffs on either side. Jubayr then burst into loud, raucous laughter.

"You think this is a joke?" Adunaphel asked.

"My lord does not have to fear of mumakil or mahudil here in the mountains," Jubayr returned. "They never come into the mountains. It would be folly to lead them there. The worst we have to worry about are saq'yl. We must make haste: they will come down upon us for sure if we pitch our tents in the mountain pass at night."

Adunaphel ordered the guards to return to the company and order them to continue the march, but she and Abrazir tarried for a while, gazing at the carcass. For the guard, he was wary of these saq'yl. No such beast was known in any part of the North or in Numenor, and no report of such beasts came out of the far and distant lands beyond the Bands of Arda or the Walls of Morning. But for Adunaphel, the memory of the night before still fresh in her mind, it meant something else, something much more poignant and yet so plain that even a simpleton could have guessed her mind.

The dead horse was a sign of death. A horrible, gruesome death, and perhaps the worst that mortal mind could dread to suffer - torn to pieces for food by wild beasts - but it was death nonetheless. Death was the Doom of Man, and it troubled the hearts of the Dunedain: from the humblest farmer tilling his fields in Orrostar to Tar-Ciryatan, High King of Numenor, in his high throne in Armenelos and all of his house, high and low. Even the cold, hard heart of Adunaphel daughter of Adunahil was shaken by the knowledge that even she would die, fair and mighty though she was.


Speed they had on their side and they passed through the mountains and saw at last the sea, crowned with golden fire as the sun sank thither. They marched down, keeping the light of the sun ever before them, until at last they reached the foothills of the mountain pass and made camp at last. All that night they had no attacks, but there were many ill in the camp. The heat was burdensome to all, great and small, man and woman. Many were sick and the lord's personal healer and his servant were kept very busy all throughout the camp. And for those who were not overwhelmed by the heat, they were short-tempered and sullen. Twice before they took up their camp and left, Abrazir and Zadnazir were forced to bring quarrels among the troops to an end.

At last, on the sixth day, they arrived at the northern cape of the Glinfalas peninsula. Here the mountains rose high and red on the eastern side, and there was a forest at the northeastern corner of the cape. But on the western shore was a great plataeu that sloped down towards the sea. There were several tents of burned orange cloth here and there, and groups of people milling about here and there: all of the people about were Haradrim. Here Adunaphel summoned forth her personal guards and Jubayr to attend him. Alone of the company, the swarthy Southron was unaffected by the heat and the sun and was in good spirits: and it did nothing to improve Adunaphel's spirits to see him grinning at her left side while all of her people sighed, groaned and quarreled. But she had a task now to do. Flanked on either side by her guards, Abrazir's company ahorse and Zadnazir's company on foot, Adunaphel rode forth towards the cluster of tents.

"Who are these people?" she asked Jubayr.

"Fisher-folk, nomads," the Southron replied.

"Who is their leader?" asked Adunaphel.

"They have no chief, my lord," said Jubayr. "The people govern themselves with no head."

"Govern themselves?" laughed Adunaphel haughtily. "Even the Eldar have no such foolish customs! To whom do they owe their allegiance?"

"They have no allegiance to anyone," Jubayr replied. "But they trade freely with any and all folk."

"And the land?" she asked. "Who owns the land they live on?"

"No one owns the land," Jubayr stated, a proud grin on his face upon noticing Adunaphel's consternation. "Everyone uses it freely and equally."

"But this would surely bring about conflict betimes," Abrazir noted. "How are such matters settled if there is no leader?"

"With blood-shed," Jubayr returned. "And he who slays the other wins the matter."

"Savages," Abrazir grumbled.

"If that's the case," Adunaphel said, gazing towards the tents. "Then they will not be unfamiliar with what will happen to them if they refuse us." She rode towards the center of the tents. A few folk here noticed them, gazing up at the tall sea-people, riding upon their horses, clad in mail and shining steel. Even in their weariness, to the folk of Vamag, they were mighty still. As they came to the center of the town, Adunaphel ordered her guards to attend her, then had Jubayr cry out in the Haruze tongue, that those around might heed them.

"Speak everything I say to them in words which they can understand," she said to Jubayr. He nodded and thus began to translate after the lord Adunaphel, speaking in their tongue every word she said.

"I am Adunaphel, lord of Vamag," she spoke. "By my right as a scion of the House of Elros, lord of the Kings Men of Westernesse, I claim this land for my own. You will serve me in all matters, paying to my hand one tenth of all you possess. Your sons shall serve me as soldiers, to come and go at my command in time of war: and in time of peace, they will serve me as workmen, to build towers and cities, to plow the ground, sew and reap the harvest for my gain. Your daughters also shall serve me as I see fit."

With each word spoken, a horrified look came upon Jubayr's face. He turned to Adunaphel, who now looked upon the lands before her and the village of tents with a hunger in her gray eyes; and it dismayede him. He had not believed that the sea-people were such as came to rule, but as friends with healing and wisdom in their hands. But now he saw the change that had been wrought in the hearts of the Dunedain of Westernesse and he feared that he had sold his people.


(AN: Okay, that chapter was, thankfully, longer than the last one and more up to the standard of my usual chapters from my Elder Scrolls stories. Hope this means better things are on the horizon.)

(Got to show a little of Adunaphel's darker side with how they took Vamag and the march through the mountains. Keep in mind that, while it might seem easy for me to just write her off as being evil to begin with [certainly some of you will see that, her and the Numenoreans being pale and the Haradrim being darker skinned, there's automatically some subtext of slavery there], that is not the case. I read the Akallabeth portion of the Silmarillion, and it talks of two "falling away" moments in the history of Numenor. The one featured here is the first one, where the Men of Westernesse came back to Middle Earth as rulers [the second "falling away" is when they return again to enslave the "lesser" people. So obviously this is before that].)

(The "saq'yl" mentioned in this chapter comes from the Turkish word "çakal", which means "jackal.")