Disclaimer: Only the original characters are mine, and I've been trying to keep them to a minimum… Nowhere does it actually say that the Faithful held meetings, but I liked the idea and they didn't seem to have anything better to do. Everything else belongs to Tolkien – especially the temple of Sauron.
"—ya" is an ending in direct address that apparently indicates people on friendly terms, such as family members; like "dear". If anyone fully understands this, please let me know. It's driving me crazier.
ElectraFairford refused to beta read, so be warned… well, sort of. I'll deal with any complaints next chapter if I have to.
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5. The Temple
As storytellers and official records would later agree, "years passed." When little could be done against it, it was easy to forget that change had occurred at all. The Elendili organized themselves in Rómenna, and meetings between the influential grew more regular. Eventually they formed a Council of sorts, uncomfortably like the one that Amandil had left in Armenelos. As the Elf-friends' undisputed chief, the exiled lord hosted those meetings in a quiet third-story room of the house. Elendil had included himself quite easily, but his sons found that conversation halted if they ventured in; and though Thoroniel apparently enjoyed her husband's confidence, Isildur and Anárion knew little more than the identities of the delegates themselves.
Most of them were Rómenna born, which was representative of the general population, but three others had come from different parts of Númenor. Eregwen's father Bereg attended for the Hyarnustar; he came from a generally respected family, and had the gift of reading people's hearts. Isildur had been surprised to find that his unexpected friend drew her descent from the Line of Elros, if rather more distantly than he did.*
"We only count if one allows female descent and several youngest sons," she admitted cheerfully. They had taken a small rowboat out on the quiet water of the harbor, where the lighthouse Calmindon reared white from the distant Tol Uinen. Eregwen was unused to boats, and enjoying the novelty; the Hyarnustar had beaches, but no good havens for ships.
"My own branch comes from Princess Silmarien," he frowned.
"Yes, but she would have had the scepter instead of her younger brother, if the laws of succession that changed for her great-niece had done the same for her."
"…and I would be the son of the King's Heir," Isildur sighed. Eregwen darted a steel-colored glance at him as he absently rubbed his shoulder. The wound had not hurt him since the day the little White Tree had put out leaves, but the memory would not fade as quickly.
"Much would be different," she agreed.
She did not speak of it, but Isildur knew her thoughts had gone in the same direction as his. Nimloth had been only the first burnt offering made at the temple of Sauron. Now human prisoners died there, and most of them were Elendili. Not that refusing to worship the Lord of the Darkness was itself a crime – the charges tended towards treason and rebellion, or conspiracy to murder. Elendil had kept a careful record of this, but no one else could bear to think how many familiar names already filled his small collection of notebooks.
Eregwen had grimly taken the optimist's role, but this was threatened one morning when she burst in on the family's breakfast. Isildur's chair shrieked across the floor as he went to her, alarmed; the joking comment Anárion had meant for Taurnil died unspoken. The young woman's face had gone white under her freckles, and she was simultaneously panting and holding back tears. Evidently she had sprinted all the way over the ridge, and had tripped once or twice in the dirt.
"Sit down, Eregwenya. What happened?" Thoroniel asked soothingly, nudging a cup of hot tea in her direction. The two were not much alike, but Thoroniel had admired the younger woman's bold gift of friendship.
"My father—"
The story came out in near-hysterical gasps. Bereg had quietly attempted to contact some friends he had left in the Hyarnustar, friends who had cared for neither of the feuding parties; but somehow he had attracted the interest of one of Sauron's servants. There were all too many of them spread throughout the kingdom, their purposes mysterious.
"I will not believe they intend aught but evil," Elendil interrupted sourly.
"Of course not," Amandil answered. "Lady, please go on."
She swallowed. "Soldiers came to our house last night. They say Father conspired against the King. They will take him to the temple of Sauron." As if that last had been a fact she had hidden from herself, she broke down openly. "I – I thought I'd – come to tell you – as soon as I could get away from the house – but it is too late!"
"No," Isildur breathed. His imagination would not support the idea of Bereg – the friendly, plain-faced man who had treated him like a bright child – facing torture in the center of Armenelos. He took Eregwen's hand.
Her bleary eyes widened. "You cannot go to the temple. We cannot fight this," she commanded softly.
"I will write to Ar-Pharazôn, and then consult the palantir," Amandil announced grimly. Isildur blinked; his grandfather was lost in his own thoughts, and had not noticed Eregwen's words. "This time we may have a defense ready in time. He cannot abandon justice if it is thrust in his face…"
Elendil and Thoroniel sighed skeptically, in unison, and glanced at each other uneasily. Eregwen murmured, "Thank you," though, and stood as if to go. Isildur followed her outside.
"Is your house still watched?" he asked.
"Yes. I'll be careful."
"They'll know you were gone, Eregwen."
"I go but to fetch my cloak. I will not be seen."
Isildur indicated the weather in a sweeping gesture. It was nearly summer again, and no one went about cloaked. Suddenly he frowned. "You told me not to go to Armenelos. I did not think that you intended to go yourself.
"For you had the right of it," he admitted. "Sauron has turned the power of Númenor against itself, power that once defeated him without a fight! Should all the Faithful gather together and fight openly, we would but break against it. Your father is lost. Mayhap we all are."
She blinked away tears. "And yet you considered going yourself, a moment ago – deny it not. Whence came this?"
He hesitated. "I am at least soldier trained. I would not have you throw your life away. Besides, when a man cannot be rescued, there is yet something to be done."
He explained what he meant. Eregwen burst out crying again, but she agreed and he held her until she had regained control. He realized then, though he made no sign of it, that he would risk anything if it would protect her. That she was more precious to him than any White Tree or political ideal.
A few days later, the palantir told Amandil that someone had smuggled a dagger to the prisoner Bereg. He had died by his own hand, long before the fire and agony of the Temple. Confused accounts told of a man and a woman, both disguised, who had disappeared before their gift became known.
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*Elros was Elrond's brother. Since they were Half-Elven and half mortal, they were allowed to choose their species. Elrond chose the Elves and went into the service of Gil-galad; Elros chose to be human, and became the first King of Númenor. The Númenórean royal family is therefore called the Line of Elros, as are its cousins. Amandil and family are descended from Silmarien, the oldest sister of the fifth King. Her great-niece, the sixth King's only child, became the first Ruling Queen; then the succession stopped being sexist.
Due to intermarriage, Amandil is also the current King and Queen's third cousin… All of this apparently has nothing to do with his place on the Council. The Lords of Andúnië may always have represented the Andustar; but Council members supposedly were more-or-less elected. Not that they had any real power beyond that of advisors. *sigh* At least, that's as much as I understand. It's as bad as the Electoral College.