V.) Loss and Gain
In a clearing amidst the forested mountains near Andunie, the north-westernmost city of Numenor, two magnificent white stallions raced each other with lightning speed. One was ridden by a young man, with long brown hair and beard, and the other by a dark-haired youth, his blue eyes intent on the Beech tree they had set as a finish line. For a time, the two horses were neck in neck, but at the last moment, the one ridden by the brown-haired man surged ahead to the finish. The young man let out a whoop of glee, and slowed his horse to a trot, while the lad behind him surged forward, and then began circling the tree in a canter.
"You've bested me again, Isildur" said the dark-haired youth glumly. "Perhaps you should find a contestant more worthy of your skill, and leave me to my books and my library."
"Don't be silly, Anarion" grinned Isildur, his brown eyes gleaming with mirth. "You always take these little contests so seriously, but it's all in good fun".
"That's easy for you to say, brother. You always win" said Anarion.
"Perhaps" said Isildur. "But then I always practice, rather than rushing to the library every chance I get. I know grandfather Amandil has encouraged you in your studies, but it's good for you to get some fresh air and exercise now and again. Our father Elendil has charged me, as your older brother and a grown man of twenty-one years - five years your senior, mind - with the responsibility of seeing to it that you're raised properly."
"Has he?" grinned Anarion mischievously. "But who is raising you properly? I can't imagine what Lord Elendil, let alone Lord Amandil, would say if they were told of half of your misdeeds. That scullery maid, for instance..."
"You wouldn't!" said Isildur, face turning pale. "Especially not Lord Amandil!"
Anarion was about to reply, when a high-pitched shriek from the forest silenced him. Isildur motioned for him to remain quiet, and then listened intently.
"A child!" cried Isildur, as the voice shrieked again. "Quickly, follow me!" he called, as he galloped towards the woods, Anarion close behind him.
After a few minutes, they came upon the source of the noise, which had now settled into a mournful wail. A small, ragged girl, no more than five summers old, was crouched beneath an Oak tree, alone and obviously lost. She shrieked again when she saw Isildur and Anarion, and tried to run away, but tripped and fell to the ground.
Isildur and Anarion dismounted, and walked carefully toward the girl, trying not to alarm her. "Hush, little one" said Anarion. "We mean you no harm. We're here to help."
Still sobbing, the girl looked up at him doubtfully. Anarion noted that her dress was torn, and she was bleeding from a scrape on her left shin.
"Trust me, little one" said Anarion. "Do you want me to stop the blood from your wound?"
She nodded uncertainly. Anarion, as his grandfather Amandil had taught him, gently placed his fingertips on the wound in Elvish fashion. When he lifted them up, after a few moments, the bleeding had stopped.
"Doesn't sting any more?" asked Anarion. She nodded, staring at him with wonderment.
"Where are you parents, child?" asked Isildur. "You must have gotten separated from them somehow."
The little girl began to wail again, and it was some minutes before she quieted down, Anarion whispering gently to her. Then at length, she managed a few words.
"Only mama" she said. "And Beleg."
"Who is Beleg?" asked Isildur.
"Big brother" said the girl. "He's seven. Think's he's better, 'cause I'm only five. I'm Hareth."
"Greetings then, Hareth" said Anarion. "I'm Anarion, and this is my big brother, Isildur. Five, you say? My my, I'm sure you're much better than Beleg . The younger child is always better than the older one!" he laughed. "But where are your mother and brother, Hareth?"
The girl began to cry again. "Gone!"
"Gone where?" asked Isildur.
Hareth began trembling. She looked up at Isildur. "Bad men" she sobbed. "On horses, like you. We were picking berries in the woods, and they rode up to us. Took mama and Beleg too. Tried to take me, but I ran and slid down the hill. Hit my head on the tree. I woke up, it was dark, and they were all gone. Been alone all day today. Cried, fell asleep. Woke up, cried again, then you came."
Isildur looked at Anarion, who seemed shocked. "Kidnappers?" cried Anarion. "On the threshold of Anduine? How can there be such disorder in our lands?"
"There never has been" said Isildur grimly. "And we will see to it there never is again." He turned down to Hareth. "Tell me, child, which way did these bad men go, when they took your mama and your brother?"
"Up the hill" said the girl, pointing to the north, "to the mountain".
"Come with us, Hareth" said Isildur. "We"re going to find your mama, and your brother too."
The little girl began to cry again, but Anarion coaxed her into letting him carry her up onto his horse. Then he and Isildur slowly climbed up the hill on horseback, following Hareth's directions, until they came upon the place where the kidnapping had occurred. Isildur was a keen woodsman, and he quickly spotted the trail, left by five horses by his reckoning.
"How many men were they, Hareth?" asked Isildur. She held up all the fingers on her right hand.
"Two against five" frowned Anarion.
"Yes" said Isildur, "but then we are the grandsons of the sovereign lord of these lands, and as men each of us is the equal of any ten woodland brigands, even if they are on horseback!"
Anarion was going to ask how mere brigands managed to acquire five horses, but decided to remain quiet and follow Isildur's lead for the time being.
Isildur and Anarion followed the trail through the stands of Oak and Beech trees for several hours, until they were well up the slopes of the mountain. The trees thinned out, and they were riding over the grasses that covered the mountaintop. Then Isildur, who had inherited his father's Elven-keen vision, signaled for Anarion to stop. Pointing at the crest of the mountain, he said to his brother "Do you see that? Smoke!"
Anarion's eyes strained against the horizon. "I see nothing, brother, though I will take your word for it. Your eyes have always been better than mine."
"There is smoke" said Isildur, "coming out of one of the caverns that dot the mountaintop. It might well be the encampment of the brigands. Let us proceed carefully, but be prepared to draw your sword. If worst comes to worst, you protect the child, and I will deal with these scum myself." Anarion loosed his sword in his scabbard, while whispering to Hareth to remain quiet. She was becoming teary-eyed again, but managed to remain calm.
They rode for several minutes, and then Anarion could also see the smoke, merely a thin wisp trailing up from the mountainside. By this point Isildur could make out the forms of the men, as well as their horses. "That's strange" said Isildur. "They seem richly-dressed for brigands. Perhaps they are nobles out on a hunt, and we have been following the wrong trail. Let us ride up to them openly, and ask if they have seen any ruffians about."
As they approached the men, who were saddling and mounting their horses, Isildur could distinguish even more about them. "I recognize one of them" he said. "That is Lord Nuphkor, one of the King's Men. Those must be his retainers. I wonder what he is doing here in Andunie, when he normally dwells at Armenelos? We received no word of his coming to our lands."
By this point Nuphkor and his followers had spotted Isildur and Anarion. The King's Men were now all on horseback, but they did not advance toward the brothers, or respond to Isildur's greeting. Soon, they were near enough that Anarion could see them clearly, in front of a narrow, dark cavern entrance from which foul-smelling smoke issued forth. Isildur was riding ahead of Anarion, and he approached the men first.
"Ho there, my lord Nuphkor!" cried Isildur. "I say again, welcome to Andunie. But what brings you to these lands?"
Nuphkor, a slim, dark-bearded man of middle years with deeply tanned skin, wrapped in graceful robes of black and white wool, said nothing. He and his retainers stared at the brothers warily.
"I say yet again, Nuphkor, what brings you to these lands?" asked Isildur, his ire raised by the man's rudeness. "And what is this dreadful stench issuing from yonder encampment? We have been searching for brigands, who kidnapped this bairn's family" – Isildur gestured at the girl Anarion was carrying toward them on horseback - "and now we find you up here, smelling as if you've been engaged in burning dung, or something worse, all day."
"Hold your tongue, whelp!" snapped Nuphkor. "The Royal Steward of Armenelos has appointed me as one of his deputies. Respect is due – especially from a provincial such as yourself, who is doubtless very familiar with the stench of dung." Nuphkor's retainers snickered amongst themselves, and now stared haughtily at the brothers.
"An appointment by Sauron, lord of maggots, earns you no respect from me, Nuphkor" said Isildur coldly. More than four decades ago, before Isildur and Anarion's time, the King, without explanation, had released Sauron from his sentence of imprisonment. Even more incredibly, he had thereafter appointed him as the Royal Steward. Sauron, who had deftly employed his charm to gain popularity amongst the nobles and courtiers at Armenelos, had used his position as Steward to fill the civilian offices of state with those nobles known to be his admirers. Indeed, nowadays even the least significant court officials owed their positions to Sauron's patronage. The Lords of Andunie did not approve, and Isildur and Anarion shared their disapproval.
Nuphkor and his followers, meanwhile, glowered at Isildur. "Speak that way of the Steward again, whelp, and I will have your head decorating the battlements of the gates of Armenelos."
"It is not my head that will be decorating battlements if you do not account for your trespass on our lands, and quickly" shot back Isildur.
By this point, Anarion had arrived next to his brother. He was about to say something to try to cool the rising anger of the two men, when suddenly Hareth burst out screaming. Pointing at Nuphkor, she cried "Mama! You took Mama and Beleg! Bring them back! I want Mama!"
Nuphkor stared at the howling child, and turned pale. His followers, equally ashen-faced, remained silent. "What are you saying, Hareth?" asked Anarion quietly. "These aren't brigands, they're from His Majesty's court, from far away Armenelos."
"They took Mama!" sobbed the girl, still pointing at them. "Bring her back!" Then she started to sob uncontrollably, and Anarion tried to comfort her. The King's Men remained silent.
Isildur stared grimly at Nuphkor and his followers. "Well, what of it?" he asked. "This bairn says that you stole away her mother and brother. Given that we followed the kidnappers' trail to your encampment, and that you refuse to account for your trespass on our lands, I'm inclined to believe her. What have you done with them?"
"Burned them as firewood" sneered one of the courtiers, and Hareth started to howl again.
Nuphkor swiftly cuffed the man on the head. "Silence you fool!" he snapped. "This matter has become far too grave for you to indulge in crude jests." Then he turned to Isildur. "How dare you!" he said coldly. "I am a deputy of the Royal Steward, and you dare to accuse me of kidnapping and brigandage!"
Anarion, his face increasingly pale, stared at Nuphkor. "Brother" he said to Isildur, "have you spent so much time on horseback that you never listen to the news and rumors of this land? Women and children have disappeared from many places, though never before from Andunie, and often smoke is seen rising from a mountaintop nearby. Often the King's Men are seen nearby too. And what of the awful stench arising from yonder fire? What fuel could leave such a stink? Perhaps Nuphkor's lackey spoke the truth, when he said....what he said...I had at first assumed that mere brigands were behind this kidnapping, though I did not understand how common ruffians could afford their own horses...but what if..."
With a strangled cry, Nuphkor spurred his horse, drawing his sword on Anarion. Anarion pulled back, shielding Hareth with his body, while drawing his sword to defend himself. But Isildur intervened, knocking Nuphkor's sword out of his hand with a swift parry by his own blade, and then clubbing Nuphkor on the side of the head with his blade's pommel. Nuphkor was thrown off his horse, and crashed to the ground. Both brothers pointed their swords against the now drawn swords of the four horsemen, who faced off at them warily. Hareth was now silent, too terrified to speak.
At length, Isildur broke the silence. "Were it not for this bairn, I would slay all of you here and now. But I would not have her witness such bloodshed. Take this filth" he said, gesturing with his sword at Nuphkor, "and get you gone from our lands. If any of you return here again, I will kill you myself."
Without a word, one of the King's Men dismounted, lifted-up the still-stunned Nuphkor, draped him over his horse, and secured him to it with a length of rope. He remounted, took Nuphkor's horse by its reins, and led it to the East, in the direction of Armenelos. His three companions followed him, but not before one of them turned back to the brothers and addressed them.
"You will pay for this insult, whelps" said the man, a scowl marring his sallow face. "Lord Sauron will hear of it, and he does not forgive or forget his enemies."
"It is not Sauron, but the King who is sovereign in these lands" replied Isildur. "My father Elendil and grandfather Amandil are his kinsmen, even if distant, and the King will listen when they tell him what has passed here today."
The courtiers laughed mockingly at the brothers, and then turned and rode hard for Armenelos. Isildur and Anarion stared grimly at each other, and then turned their mounts and rode towards their grandfather's palace at Andunie.
As they left the grassy uplands, and descended into the forest, the Sun began to set in the West. The brothers quickened their pace, for a chill was in the air, and the lengthening shadows under the trees struck them as oddly menacing. They felt eager to find themselves once again behind thick walls, and in front of the comforting glow of a warm fireplace.
Anarion felt sorrow as he looked down at the little girl they had rescued. He and Isildur had themselves lost their mother to illness when they were children. "Peace, Hareth" said Anarion, for she had started to cry again. "Soon you will be safe. No one can harm you within the palace of Andunie. Not even Sauron himself."
One month after his sons' confrontation with Nuphkor, Elendil, son of Amandil, stood on the balcony of the highest tower at his father's palace at Andunie, and reflected on how their current plight had come to pass.
Forty-eight years ago, King Ar-Pharazon had returned triumphant, bearing the Dark Lord Sauron as his prize. Amandil had feared no good would come from allowing Sauron onto the soil of fair Numenor as a prisoner, where he could never have come as a conqueror. Yet, he had not dared to express his fears to the King, who was monumentally proud of demonstrating to everyone that Sauron was his vassal. The King seemed to take this as a token of his own greatness.
Initially, Ar-Pharazon had simply paraded Sauron as a trophy, the spoils of war. But three years after the so-called Great Victory, the King's behaviour toward Sauron had changed so abruptly that Elendil had begun to wonder if his father were right, that Ar-Pharazon, as Amandil whispered, was indeed mad, and was becoming ever more mad under the cloying flattery of Sauron. For Ar-Pharazon had announced that henceforth, Sauron was no longer a prisoner. Having proved his loyalty, he would be the King's only counselor, and the new Royal Steward of Armenelos, with power over the administration of the Royal Palace and of the King's estates.
In the several decades since then, Sauron's influence had grown rapidly, both within the walls of Armenelos and without. All agreed that his voice was so fair, and the words he spoke so noble and just, that they could not help but agree to his requests – or his commands – when they were in his presence, even where his office gave him no authority over them.
At first, Sauron's Stewardship seemed to have done some good for Numenor. He had made a point of bringing order to the chaotic civil administration, and had executed several high-ranking officials whose corruption was particularly noteworthy.
But then, after some years, things began to take a turn for the worst, at least in the opinion of Amandil and Elendil. Always with the King's approval, Sauron had implemented many new laws, and made his own approval necessary for so many routine activities that one could scarcely ship a wagon-load of apples from one side of Numenor to the other without Sauron's permission. No vital business could be conducted anywhere in the realm without first consulting with Sauron. Many of the old officals and King's Counselors, such as Amandil, were dismissed, while others died mysteriously. They were replaced by that party of Ar-Pharazon's loyalists known as the King's Men. Since then, as rules and laws multiplied, so did corruption aimed at avoiding them, until there was even more graft, petty theft, and resentment amongst the Numenoreans than before.
Worse than this, there were some who whispered dark rumours about the King's Men, and even the King himself, and their relationship to Sauron. Whispers and chants would be heard from dark catacombs in the night, it was said, acrid smoke would rise to the heavens from lonely caverns and mountaintops, and always in the morning after a woman or a child or two would be missing. Those who sought to make inquiries concerning these disappearances would sometimes be silenced with gold, and sometimes through more direct methods.
Despite this, one month ago Elendil, with the consent of his father Amandil, had sought an investigation into the kidnapping of a woman and child of Andunie, which had been reported by Isildur and Anarion. Elendil had formally requested that the King launch a criminal inquiry, naming Lord Nuphkor and his retainers as suspects.
However, it appeared that Sauron had decided to turn the incident involving Nuphkor into a trap, and that Elendil had taken the bait. This very morning, a messenger sent from Sauron, accompanied by a large party of heavily armed Royal Household Guards from Armenelos, had delivered to them an order, signed and sealed by King Ar-Pharazon himself. That order informed the Lords of Andunie that while they might still have the hereditary right to draw income from their ancestral lands, they would no longer be permitted to dwell in them!
"For" said the King's Herald, with a smirk on his brown-bearded face, "it is well known that the Lords of Andunie are so-called Elf-friends, even though contact between the King's subjects and the Elves has been discouraged since the days Tar-Atanamir, and was formally proscribed by King Ar-Pharazon's grandfather Ar-Gimilzor. Yet now we find you making slanderous allegations against some of the King's most loyal servants, handpicked for their positions by the King's trusted councilor and Steward, Sauron the Wise. Clearly, we see at work the pernicious influence of the Elves, who through you, their puppets, seek to undermine the administration of King Ar-Pharazon. Nor is it to be wondered at that you are so easily influenced by the Elves, when you live so close to them; for it is well known that on a clear day, the White Tower of the pestilential Elven city of Avallone can be seen from the highest tower of Andunie, located as it is in the extreme West of Numenor. So, by order of the King, you and your heirs are hereby banished forthwith from the province of Andunie. You shall instead take up residence at the palace of Romenna. There, in the East of Numenor, you will be further from your Elvish masters, and less capable of doing mischief."
And that was that. The King had spoken, and now Elendil, and his father Amandil, and his sons Isildur and Anarion, had no choice but to depart Andunie, the home of their ancestors for more than three thousand years, for distant Romenna in the East. Romenna was chiefly noted as a haven for those commoners who still thought of themselves as Faithful to the Valar and the ancient tradition of Elf-friendship. The Lords of Andunie had always been on friendly terms with them, even as they had loyally served the Royal House at Armenelos, which had grown ever more hostile to the Elves over the years. Now, it appeared that the King – no doubt at Sauron's urging – wished all of the Elf-friends of Numenor to be restricted to Romenna, presumably so their influence could be contained within that small city alone.
Amandil had wept when he received the news, but acknowledged there was no choice under the laws of Numenor except to comply with the King's command. To do otherwise would make them outlaws, whose lives and property would be forfeit. Isildur and Anarion were outraged; Isildur had to be physically restrained to prevent him from assaulting the King's Herald.
Reflecting on the day's events, Elendil sighed, and brushed a lock of hair away from his blue eyes. He did not look half of his seventy-nine years, but today he felt old. In truth, he thought to himself, things were the opposite of the accusations. Although the Lords of Andunie were styled Elf-friends, it had been a good seventy years since they last had any contact with the Elves of Middle Earth, and it had been more than a century since they had received a visit from the High Elves of Tol Eressea. Yet, even though his family faced exile from their homeland on the pretext of Elf-friendship, Elendil now felt strongly tempted to seek out the Elves himself. Perhaps they could offer counsel to the Lords of Andunie on how best to combat Sauron's influence over the King.
Elendil could not seek out the Elves of Eressea or Valinor, for the Ban of the Valar prevented him from journeying to the Undying Lands. But if it could be done in secret, he could visit the Elves of Middle Earth. Erenion Gil-galad, High-Elven King of Lindon, had long been a loyal friend to the Lords of Andunie. His lands were one of the few parts of Middle Earth not under the control of Ar-Pharazon. In fact, now that Elendil and his family had to live in Romenna, they would be closer to Lindon than they had been in Andunie. Gil-galad was as wise as he was ancient, and his counsel would surely be of the utmost value. When the time was right, concluded Elendil, a stealthy trip to Lindon would be in order.
Elendil stroked his beard, and looked down from the balcony to the palace courtyard below. He saw his servants, under the watchful eye of some of the black-tunic'd Royal Household Guardsmen, busily loading his family's possessions into carts. Beyond the white marble walls of the palace, the citizens of Andunie were in mourning. Though they did not have the reputation for Elf-friendship of the citizens of Romenna, most of the inhabitants of Andunie still loved their lords, particularly Amandil, and remained loyal to them. The citizens, their faces marked with despair and disbelief, had left their fair houses of whitewashed stone trimmed with turquoise, and filled the broad streets of the city. Although a large party of Royal Household Guardsmen kept close watch on them, to prevent them from rioting, many had publicly vowed to follow their lords all the way to Romenna. Amandil and Elendil had not discouraged them, for they sensed that the more citizens who openly supported them, the less in danger they were of being directly harmed by Sauron and the King. The greatest danger for the Lords of Andunie lay in isolation from the people and loss of their support, for then they could be all the more easily dispatched, should Sauron wish it and the King agree.
Sighing, Elendil took one last look from the balcony to the West, where the Sun was setting in a blaze of crimson over the harbour of Andunie, tinting Western Sea with a rosy glow. There, for the last time, he could dimly see a faint streak on the horizon, with a beacon of light issuing from it; the White Tower of deathless Avallone on Tol Eressea. He stared at it, so near and yet so far, for many minutes. Then, he turned and looked to the East where, beyond the mountains, the sky had grown dark.
How fitting, thought Elendil. The Shadow from the East had already brought twilight to Numenor. He only prayed that it would not bring nightfall.
Several months after the move to Romenna, and with his father's blessing, Elendil took a handful of trusted servants on a skiff, and departed from the pier at dawn. He first tacked eastward, so that it would appear, if the King's spies were watching, that the ship was headed for Pelargir, which had long had close ties to the city of Romenna. Once out of sight of land, he then set a course for the North, and sailed for several weeks over rough seas to the land of Lindon, in the far North-west of Middle Earth.
Lindon, the land between the Blue Mountains and the Western Sea, was all that was left of Beleriand, the foremost land of the Elves of Middle Earth during the Elder Days. Beleriand had drowned beneath the waves following the War of Wrath at the end of the First Age, but those Elves who had survived the cataclysm still dwelt in its sole remnant. Lindon itself had been split in two by the formation of the Gulf of Lune during the inundation of Beleriand. In the South was Harlindon, home of the Gray Elves and Green Elves, who had lived in Beleriand from the earliest ages of the Elder Days. In the North was Forlindon, home of most of the Noldorin High Elves of Middle Earth, those who had chosen to remain in exile for a time rather than return to Valinor. It was to Forlond that Elendil was bound, for there the High Elven King Erenion, more commonly known as Gil-galad, made his dwelling.
As his ship sailed within sight of land, Elendil saw a beacon around which were clustered several spires and towers of white marble. Surrounding it were a number of houses of wood, carved elaborately in the intricate style of the Green Elves, some of whose number lived in Forlond and acted as servants for the High King. The dense forests of Middle Earth stretched beyond. At the pier were docked several of the White Swan ships of the Falathrim Sea Elves, some of whom lived on the Eastern edge of the Gulf of Lune at Mithond, known to Men as the Grey Havens, under their lord Cirdan. Elendil sailed his own ship past these, and moved closer to an open spot on the pier, while unfurling the banner of the Lords of Andunie from the mast. As his ship approached the shore, several Green Elves, their tawny hair blown to and fro with the sea-breeze, tossed mooring ropes to his crew so that they could secure the ship. When all was ready, his crew lowered the gang-plank, and Elendil descended to the pier.
Elendil was just about to introduce himself to the Elves, when the sharp, clear sound of silver trumpets interrupted. As he looked to his right, towards land, a party of Elves approached him, clad in the blue and golden robes of the Noldor. In the centre of the group, wearing a thin circlet of gold over his long black hair, was an especially tall Elf who could be none other than High King Gil-galad himself.
Elendil stood to attention and saluted the Elf-lord, as he had been taught to salute royalty in his youth. The Green Elves on the pier laughed at him, a sound like the tinkling of crystal glasses. Gil-galad himself smiled, and strode toward him. "Hail Elf-friend!" said he, his deep blue eyes twinkling with mirth and good humour. "Your salute is a gracious gesture, but it is not needed. I may be High King, but we Elves and Elf-friends greet each other simply and without formality. Not for us are the elaborate rituals of fair Numenor!"
"Elen sila lumenn omentielvo" replied Elendil, "A star shines upon the hour of our meeting." This was the traditional greeting of the High Elves to each other.
"That's better!" laughed Gil-galad. "The Lords of Andunie and their kin are always welcome here in Lindon, though you have not visited us for many a long year. For my part, it was at least seventy years ago that I last visited Numenor, brief and secret as my stay was. If I am not mistaken, you must be Elendil, son of Lord Amandil. When last we met, you were but a boy. It seems you have grown to manhood in the twinkling of an eye."
"Aye, I am now a Man of nearly eighty years of age, although that seems longer than the twinkling of an eye to me" replied Elendil gravely.
Gil-galad looked at Elendil for a few moments, and then his tone became more somber. "You must be weary, friend Elendil, after your long journey over the Sea from distant Numenor. But when you are ready, we shall discuss the business that has brought you here. For though I always welcome the company of the Lords of Andunie, I confess that I am aware your visit here is not entirely to reacquaint yourself with old friends."
Gil-galad then smiled again. "But enough of such matters. You are our guests! Please, invite your crew onto the pier, and they shall accompany us to my house. We shall lead you to your chambers, to wash and refresh yourself. Then, let us eat and be merry, and we shall sing to you the songs of old!"
That evening had passed very pleasantly. Elendil did not remember it clearly, for time spent amongst the Elves seemed to pass as if in a dream. There was wine better than any nectar, and white bread sweet as if with honey, and curious fruits ripe and bountiful. There was laughter, and music of the lyre, flute and harp, and singing in the old tongues of Elves of fair voices, which told of the ancient days when there was only starlight and forest, laughing streams and the singing sea, and all manner of wondrous things that had long since passed away.
Elendil slept deeply in his soft bed that night, and dreamed many curious things, as if the old songs had taken shape in his mind. The next morning, Elendil breakfasted lightly on more of the sweetened bread, which seemed very filling, and strolled for a time amongst the towers and houses of Forlond, listening to the laughter of fair Elvish voices, and admiring the beauty of comely Elvish maidens. Maidens indeed, he thought to himself. They were doubtless older than his great grandmother's grandmother!
Elendil felt at peace as he had not since his boyhood. Yet, he knew that he could not afford to wander aimlessly along the paths of serene Forlond. To the Elves, the passing of days seemed of no more consequence than the falling of leaves in the autumn. But from his standpoint as a mortal, time was pressing, and his duty was to seek out Gil-galad and ask his counsel.
He found Gil-galad waiting for him in the garden behind his house. The house was low, rambling building of marble inlaid with gemstones, cut with oval windows and doors, and fronted by several graceful towers topped by conical roofs of smooth marble. If it was not as grand as one of the palaces of Numenor, it was in truth more soothing to the eye and homelike to the heart. Gil-galad himself sat in an elaborately carved chair of wood by a silver fountain, its waters laughing cheerfully, and set amidst bright green grass and delicate flowers of blue, gold and white. Ancient trees of smooth grey bark and dark green leaves offered shade from the light of the Sun. There was a second empty chair by the fountain, and Gil-galad motioned for Elendil to be seated.
"How goes it with you this day, friend Elendil?" asked the High King.
"I have not had such a fair day for many years, friend Gil-galad" replied Elendil wistfully. "I should have paid a visit to your people long ago. How I wish my sons could see the dwellings and hear the songs of the Elves in their own lands!"
"I trust they shall someday," laughed Gil-galad. "They shall learn that for all the wonders of Numenor, Middle Earth is not without its charms."
But when his laughter had subsided, the High King's mood darkened, and he stared intently at Elendil. "I shall speak plainly, my young friend" said Gil-galad. "I sense that all is not well with you. Your heart is sorely troubled. I believe I know why you have sought me out, yet I would hear of it in your own words. Of what would you ask my counsel?"
Elendil frowned. "All is not well with Numenor. It has not been since the Dark One first tainted our fair isle with his foul presence nearly five decades ago, though things have grown markedly worse of late."
Gil-galad also frowned at the mention of the Enemy. "It has been long since we have had regular tidings from Numenor, yet you can be sure that we Elves are aware of this folly. The Dark One should never have been allowed to set foot off Middle Earth. It is even said that your King made Sauron his trusted councilor. Yet, for my part. I hoped this to be an absurd tale dreamed up by some traveler in his cups. Can it be true?"
"All too true. And that is the least of it." Elendil explained to Gil-galad in some detail the course of events in Numenor over the decades since Sauron had become the King's Steward, culminating in the exile of the Lords of Andunie to Romenna.
"Sauron's arm has grown long indeed if he can place such a yoke on a family that is hardly less royal than that of the King" said Gil-galad. "Are not the Lords of Andunie also the heirs of Earendil and Elros, no less than those of the King's own line?"
"We are", replied Elendil. "What I cannot understand is how the King countenances such folly. Even before he dispatched his armada against Sauron, my father, Amandil, had long held that the King was mad. Still, mad or no, Ar-Pharazon always had an iron will, and no Man could bend it. Yet now it seems almost as if he has gone from being Sauron's master to being his puppet. Sauron has only to will a thing so, and the King's Seal is affixed to it."
"Sauron is not a Man" replied Gil-galad gravely. "He is so ancient that the oldest of Elves is but a child beside him. Moreover, he now has his accursed Ring, which has greatly magnified his own power, and increased his hold over all the free peoples of the world. We Elves, who are very old as Men measure such things, are skilled in all forms of lore, and yet even we were long deceived by the wiles of Sauron. Woe to the day that Celebrimbor of Eregion ever invited Annatar, Giver of Gifts inside his threshold! Nor could we withstand the onslaught of Sauron once he revealed himself. Many of the Elvish people have been slain, and those few of us still left in Middle Earth have been driven back to refuges such as Forlond, islands of peace in a sea of war. How then could your King, a mortal Man, hope to resist the will of Sauron, and the power of the One Ring?"
"What is this One Ring you speak of?" asked Elendil.
Gil-galad appeared astonished. "Have you not heard the tale of the Rings of Power, and how the folly of the Elves of Eregion made possible Sauron's rise as the new Dark Lord? I thought the chroniclers and historians of Numenor were unsurpassed in all the world."
"Perhaps my father has heard of it" admitted Elendil, "for he has always been a scholar by inclination, notwithstanding that he was also a great sea-captain in his youth. Still, I have never heard him mention it. And I fear that I have been too busy administering his estates to spend much time in the old libraries. What is more, the education afforded to the noble children of Numenor by the royal tutors sent from Armenelos has had nothing to say of the Elves since the days of Tar-Atanamir, and says little of them before that. Many of the old records concerning the Elves and our friendship with them were destroyed by Ar-Pharazon's grandfather, Ar-Gimilzor."
Gil-galad then told Elendil the tale of the Rings of Power, and how the One Ring had allowed Sauron to gain mastery over nearly the whole of Middle Earth.
"So you see," concluded Gil-galad "the trap that Sauron set for all of us. The Seven Rings of the Dwarves proved of little use to him, for Dwarves are mightily stubborn, and have a will of adamant. When they realized the real purpose of their Rings was to enslave them, they simply threw them away, though whether the Seven have been lost in caverns, or eaten by Dragons, or reclaimed by servants of the Dark Lord, I know not."
"But" he continued, "the Nine Rings of Men were all too successful in their purpose. Great Kings and Lords of Men accepted them, for Sauron, disguised as Annatar, had promised them eternal life and awesome power if they became Ringbearers. And for awhile it appeared so. Yet the days of Men are numbered, and for them to live beyond their appointed time, their bodies and spirits must be stretched ever thinner, until they are no longer visible to mortal eyes. So it was with these nine wretches; they were promised eternal life and power, yet now they are but Sauron's undead slaves, bound forever to his will. Under their leader, one known as the Witch King, they are called the Nazgûl in the Black Speech of Mordor, though in our tongue they are known as the Ulari."
"The Ulari" shuddered Elendil, "the Ringwraiths as the Men of Middle Earth call them, though I did not enquire what rings had to do with them. I have certainly heard of them, though only today did I learn their true origins."
"I am not surprised you have heard of the Black Riders" said Gil-galad, "for tales of their fell deeds have surely reached even the blessed shores of holy Valinor."
"And what of the Three Rings of the Elves" asked Elendil. "Surely you could have used them against Sauron?"
Gil-galad sighed. "We dared not. The Three Rings are implements of peace, not weapons of war. They are meant to dull the corrosive effects of time, to inspire the heart and to mend the body and sooth the spirit. Moreover, though Sauron never laid hands on them, for they were forged by Celebrimbor alone, the Three Rings are still bound to the power of the One. If we were to put on the Three Rings, we would be revealed to Sauron as long as he bears the One on his own hand. He would be able to read all our thoughts, and all our secrets, and we would have no hope of besting him."
"So the Three were safely hidden amongst our people," continued Gil-galad. "We tried to resist Sauron through war, but we Elves had passed the peak of our power in these lands even before the War of Wrath was fought, ages ago. There were too few of us to resist the onslaught of Sauron's vast hordes of Orcs, and now we are even fewer in number. After Sauron put Celebrimbor and the Elves of Eregion to the sword, many of our people fled over the Western Sea to Valinor. Those of us who remain in Middle Earth now dwell only in Lindon, or live in havens such as Lord Elrond's realm of Imladris, or Queen Galadriel's realm of Lothlorien, or King Thranduil's Woodland Realm, which lies in the Greenwood east of Anduin. We can barely defend our own realms, let alone mount an offensive against Sauron. Your own Kings, I am sad to say, have long forsaken their friendship with us, and so we cannot look to Men for aid." Elendil turned his gaze to the ground, ashamed to acknowledge the truth of Gil-galad's words. "Even the Dwarves will not help us" continued Gil-galad, "for they blamed the Elves of Eregion for Sauron's rise to power - I cannot say they are wrong in that – and now they will not give aid to any Elf. We have pleaded for them to help us in our time of need, but to no avail - their stony hearts remained utterly unmoved."
"I don't understand" frowned Elendil. "If Sauron is so immensely powerful, not only through his own dark powers, but because of this One Ring of his, why did he surrender to the expedition of Ar-Pharazon forty-eight years ago, without even a pretence of defending himself? Why did he meekly accept his status as a prisoner? Why does he still appear to serve the King today, even if he is only a servant in name?"
"I have given much thought to those questions ever since I first heard news of Sauron's apparent surrender to your King," said Gil-galad darkly. "I see two points to consider. First, while we Elves are few, and were badly outnumbered, the armies of the Men of Numenor are vast beyond counting, and they are far better soldiers than Orcs or wild Men. Moreover, Sauron had the element of surprise against us, and we were from the first on the defensive, whereas Numenor took the offensive against Mordor. If we leave aside the power of Sauron and his Ring, it is more than likely that open war would have resulted in the annihilation of Sauron's armies, and that he would have found himself besieged in the Barad-dur with the King's forces encamped in the plain of Gorgoroth below. By avoiding open war, Sauron has preserved his armies, which were never disbanded, although they have withdrawn into the depths of Mordor and kept a low profile. Indeed, our scouts tell us that since Sauron's departure, his realm of Mordor has been ruled by his lieutenants the Ulari and their Witch King. Ar-Pharazon apparently thinks he holds Sauron hostage for the behaviour of his followers in Middle Earth, and the Numenoreans, in their greed for metals and timber, have not peered over the walls of Mordor, which they deem but a barren wasteland. Thus, Sauron's subterfuge has not been detected by Numenor, and his armies have waxed even stronger in his absence, waiting patiently for the day when they are unleashed at his command."
"However, that is not a complete explanation," continued Gil-galad. "Sauron is powerful, and his Ring makes him even more so. His presence in battle, with the assistance of the Ulari, might well have allowed his forces to have fought the armies of Numenor to a stalemate. Sauron, of course, will not settle for a stalemate – he seeks absolute dominion. That leads to the second point."
"Which is?"
"That if Sauron felt he could not annihilate the Men of the West by force, perhaps he felt he could bring about their doom through fraud."
"Fraud?" asked Elendil. "You mean a stratagem?"
"Yes," replied Gil-galad. "A far more ambitious strategem, I deem, than merely posing as a hostage, while building up his armies in secret. Tell me, have you seen or spoken with Sauron himself?"
"Twice, though both times were long ago. I regret to say it was to me that he surrendered himself, near the Crossings of Harnen. I saw him a second time when he was paraded through Andunie as a prisoner, as part of the victory celebrations. I recall that on both occasions he appeared wondrous fair. Indeed, I even recall that both times, he had a curious golden ring on his right hand, though I paid it little heed on either occasion."
"And what of his voice?" asked Gil-galad.
"When I first met him" said Elendil, "he spoke to me at some length about his intention to surrender, and his reasons for so doing. The second time I saw him, he spoke to us briefly, offering apologies for his many crimes, and repeating how he had sworn service and loyalty to the King. His voice was very fair-seeming, very soothing to listen to..."
"Even fairer than the voice of an Elven King?" asked Gil-galad, with a grim smile.
Elendil hesitated. "I mean you no offence" he said, "but yes, even fairer than that, if such a thing is possible. My heart initially doubted his words, yet it soon did not enter my mind to question anything he said, it all seemed so wise and reasonable. On both occasions, it was only some time after his departure that I thought back upon his words, and again doubted their sincerity."
"Then you have tasted the power of the One Ring," said Gil-galad. "For Sauron, in his present fair guise as Annatar at least, has always been charming and persuasive – witness how he deceived the Elves of Eregion before he forged the One Ring. And the Ring greatly magnifies his power. Even an Elven Lord well versed in lore would have difficulty resisting the power of Sauron's voice as long as he bears his Ring. And your King...no matter how strong his will, I fear he may have no hope of resisting Sauron's voice at all."
"I have noted that all of Sauron's commands bear the King's Seal," frowned Elendil. "Though I had hoped that, at least for many issues beneath the King's attention, Sauron was merely taking liberties with his role as Steward, which makes him Guardian of the Seal. Yet you think Ar-Pharazon, who has long appeared somehow beholden to Sauron, is in truth nothing more than the Dark One's puppet?" Elendil's face turned pale, as he contemplated the appalling implications.
"I fear so", replied Gil-galad. "It would not seem thus in your King's mind, but that only makes Sauron's grip on him all the firmer. My belief, now that I have learned of all that has passed in Numenor, within the last few years in particular, is that Sauron declined war against Numenor from the outside in favour of war against Numenor from the inside. Hence his apparent surrender, which was but a ruse. Once inside Numenor, he bided his time, and then struck at the King's heart and mind when the moment seemed opportune. Ensconced at your King's right hand, bending the King's will to his own, there is no end to the mischief he can make for the Numenoreans."
"And then what of these dark rumours?" shuddered Elendil. "These secret meetings? The disappearances of women and children? It was my investigation of an incident connected to these rumours that Sauron, acting through the King, used as a pretext for exiling my family to Romenna..."
Gil-galad appeared very grave. "I greatly fear the evil into which Sauron may lead Numenor. It appears he is corrupting not only your King, but his officials as well, by immersing them in who knows what dark sorcery. I know that in the Elder Days, many Men and Elves unfortunate enough to have been captured by Sauron, or Gorthaur the Torturer as we then called him, were offered up as living sacrifices to the Great Enemy. The smoke of their burning was said to be a balm to foul Morgoth."
As Gil-galad pronounced that name, the Sun seemed to darken for a moment, and there was a sudden chill in the air.
Elendil turned pale at the mention of Morgoth Bauglir, the Great Enemy, whose memory cast a dark shadow over all the World, even though he had long since been expelled from it. "But such vile corruption, at the very pinnacles of power in Numenor...if the King and all his high officials, including the many nobles who serve in office at Armenelos, are immersed in dark sorcery...what is to become of Numenor? What can Men do against the power of such ancient evil, when even the Elves could not stand against it?"
Gil-galad was silent for a long time, staring into the sparkling waters of the silver fountain. Then he stared grimly at Elendil. "I do not have any simple answers for Numenor's plight. Now that I have heard of all that has transpired there, I realize the situation is even worse than I had feared. Numenor has become like a mighty, ancient Oak; impregnable from the outside, but eaten away by rot and corruption from within. This I deem: Sauron will do far greater evil than he has already done to the Men of the West. If the King, and the major part of his nobles and officials at court, have become the agents of evil, have even taken up the worship of the Great Enemy as I fear, then it will not be long before their madness sinks down to the common people of Numenor. There may be little time before the whole land is awash in corruption and bloodshed."
"But that cannot be!" cried Elendil. "Is Numenor, The Land of the Star, nigh to holy Valinor, to fall into darkness? Is it to become a bastion for the worship of Morgoth, a land where innocents are slain as human sacrifices to evil incarnate...it is unthinkable!"
"My friend," said Gil-galad "we live in evil times. Who is to say that the darkness cannot blot out the light? You must acknowledge the power of the darkness, and then think on how to combat it, if your people are to have any hope."
"I cannot see hope in what you describe" said Elendil, despondently. "What are we to do?"
"First" said Gil-galad sternly, "you must not sink into fear and despair, for those have ever been amongst the chief weapons of the Enemy. Second, I think you are underestimating your own power. You and your family are not ordinary Men; you are the Lords of Andunie, and so the descendents of Earendil and Elros, as much as is your fallen King. The people know this. Your father Amandil has long been renowned for his nobility of spirit and his wisdom, which are great even as Elves measure such things. Let your father, let your House, become a beacon in the darkness. If you must now live in Romenna, then let Romenna become a haven and a sanctuary for those Men of Numenor who wish no part of the evil of Sauron and the folly of their King. Let them join the Faithful ones who already dwell there. I will not say that you should openly denounce Sauron and the King, for you could not resist the King's armies if they were sent against you. But your father Amandil and all those of your House, can lead by their example through their wisdom and nobility of conduct. I say again, do not underestimate your own power. Is not your own name Elendil, that is, Elf-friend? Let the Elendili, those Men of Numenor who renounce the darkness and are still faithful to the light, flock to the banner of the Lords of Andunie! Let your House provide an example, and hope, to those who have fallen under the Shadow from the East."
Elendil was spellbound. He stared at Gil-galad with awe. "By the Valar" he said, "apt it is that you are deemed High King, for your courage and vision are greater than that which any hereditary title of King could bestow. You are right, friend Gil-galad. I shall tell my father what has passed between us, and he and I, and my sons, and all those attached to my House, shall strive our utmost to be a beacon in the darkness. The light shall not perish utterly from the land of Numenor, as long as Men of my House still dwell there!" He grasped the High King's hands. "I am forever in your debt, my friend!"
"Do not say that" laughed Gil-galad, his good humor suddenly restored, "for I have gifts to give you apart from my advice, and I would not wish you to be even deeper in my debt! Rise and follow, Elf-friend!"
Gil-galad strode from the garden into his house, and Elendil followed him. They climbed the winding marble stairs of a tower, and came to a great door of oak. Gil-galad removed a key from his robes, and unlocked the door. "Come in, my friend" said he, "this is my study, and in here I keep many treasures." Elendil walked into the room, the floor and ceiling of which were adorned with cut and polished gemstones, offset by walls of gleaming white marble, cut with several windows so as to let in the light of the Sun and the Moon. There were many manuscripts and scrolls on shelves lining the spaces between the windows, and a number of wooden boxes and chests lying on the floor by the heavy, carved oaken desk and chair at the far end of the room. Gil-galad walked towards one of the largest of these chests, took out another key, and opened it. Then he stepped back and gestured at the chest.
"Behold" said Gil-galad, "the Palantiri!"
Elendil looked into the chest. The interior was made of panels of wood covered in black cloth, and divided by panels of wood, covered by rich black velvet, into seven boxes. In each box lay a crystal sphere of varying colours, somehow infused with a substance that looked rather like smoke. Elendil stared at the crystal spheres in growing wonder, for he saw that the smoke, or mist, or whatever it was, appeared to shift here and there within the crystal, almost as if it were alive!
He gazed up at Gil-galad, who smiled at him. "As you doubtless know, 'Palantiri', rendered into the tongue of the Numenoreans, means 'Those that Watch from Afar'. Long ago, ages before even I was born, they were crafted in Valinor by the High Elven King Feanor himself. It was Feanor who later forged the Silmaril jewels, whose theft by Morgoth led to the return of many of the Noldorin High Elves to Middle Earth in his pursuit. Our return, as you know, culminated in the War of Wrath. These Palantiri were but an essay in Feanor's skill, before he turned his attention to the Silmarils and his attempts to capture within them the blessed light of the Two Trees of Valinor."
"Then these Palantiri are ancient as well as beautiful" said Elendil, who could not quite believe he was staring at works that had actually been crafted by the hands of the legendary Feanor himself.
"They are indeed" said Gil-galad. "Though they may also be of practical value, not least to Men."
"Practical value?" asked Elendil.
"These Palantiri are devices designed to transmit images and thoughts over long distances. Each of the stones can see whatever is visible from the others. An adept can use any of the stones to cast his vision over long distances, even over the Sea to the Master Stone, which is located in the Tower of Avallone upon Eressea. ."
"When Feanor led the Noldorin exiles from Valinor to Middle Earth in hot pursuit of Morgoth, he took seven of the Palantri with him. After Feanor was slain, they were passed unto his heirs, and in due course have come into my possession. Using them, I can gaze upon Avallone itself, and behold the blessed land of Valinor across the Bay of Eldamar." Elendil stared at the crystal spheres again with amazement.
"I have not much used the Palantiri for other purposes," Gil-galad continued, "for those of us High Elves who are immersed in lore have long since mastered the art of sending our thoughts directly into each others minds, no matter how great the distance that separates us. So, it seems to me that your need of the Palantri is now greater than mine."
"What are you saying?" asked Elendil. Surely, Gil-galad did not mean to give him an object as precious as a Palantir?
"While we High Elves can send thoughts into each others minds, I understand that you Men must still communicate over distances in the more conventional manner – by messenger on horseback" said Gil-galad with a smile. "But messages can be intercepted, and messengers can be bribed, and I daresay the King's spies report the movements of all messengers between his nobles on the isle of Numenor. Using these Palantiri, the members of your family and your most trusted servants and friends can communicate with each other instantly, no matter how great the distance that separates them. And they can do so without fear that their messages will be intercepted by Sauron and the King. That will no doubt prove useful indeed in the dark days that may lie ahead. So take the Palantiri with my blessing, and present them to your father Lord Amandil, as a gift from his friend High King Gil-galad. Guard them well, and use them wisely!"
Elendil, awestruck, stared open-mouthed at the ancient seeing stones. "Surely you cannot mean to give us all of the Palantiri, friend Gil-galad? We could not accept such a..."
"You can and you will accept this gift" said Gil-galad. "Before you depart, my servants will stow this chest, bearing the Palantiri, on your ship. In any case," smiled Gil-galad, "I am not giving you all the Palantri – you will recall the Master Stone remains at Eressea."
Elendil stood enraptured for some minutes. To think that Gil-galad would give him, a mere Man, such a gift...why, when he had mastered the art of using the seeing stones, he could even cast his gaze to the Master Stone of Tol Eressea, and gaze upon Valinor itself!
"Neither words nor deeds are sufficient to thank you for this gift" said Elendil, his voice breaking with emotion.
Gil-galad stared at him, and said firmly "Words of thanks are not required. But you can show your gratitude through your deeds. Use the Palantiri to prevent the extinguishment of the light in Numenor, and that shall be thanks enough!"
Gil-galad closed and locked the chest, and gave the key to Elendil. Then he took Elendil by the shoulder and led him back down the stairs. "Come my friend," said Gil-galad, "we have spent more than half the day talking, and it will soon be nightfall. You have fasted since early this morning. I will not have it said that any Elf-friend was left to starve and suffer from thirst under my roof. To the banquet hall!"
Though overcome by his emotions, Elendil could not suppress the smile he felt spreading across his face. At least, he thought, the wisdom of the Elves was tempered by mirth!