Notes: This is, in my opinion, not the best of the five chapters I've drafted to this point, but it's necessary for the development of the plot. In it, I make a number of conjectures about the climate and population of Calenardhon that aren't stated in Lord of the Rings but make sense at least to me and provide the scenario in which future events can play out.
Disclaimers: See Chapter I. Tolkien's characters belong to him, mine belong to me, and I get no money either way. I write just for the fun of it.
Responses to the few, the proud, the reviewers of Chapter I. Hope to see you (and hopefully a few others) review Chapter II.
justo- In response to your corrections, the issue of Caldrion's age has been changed. I apologize for that one; I was not thinking. Regarding the elven hair, that was deliberate, as Caldrion has met very few elves, none of whom were of the black-haired variety. That was an attempt to establish Caldrion as an individual only slightly less ignorant of elves than Graldor. I have clarified that. Thank you much for taking the time to send me these.
Dragon-of-the-north- Thank you for your kind comments. I try to be original, and I'm glad that the person who wrote the highly original "House of the Silver Bow" thought I was as well. The titles were fun but a bit difficult to think up. The original thought that prompted me to start writing this was the question of becoming a wraith, and to do that, I had to write a character I could sympathize with, hence the break from conventional wisdom. I (and you) know where I'm going with this, but I only know part of how I'm going to get there. Hope you enjoy this chapter.
TreeHugger- Thank you. I tried to capture something of the Sauron who managed to persuade the elves to make the darn rings in the first place and convinced Numenor to commit collective stupicide (stupid+suicide). With Graldor, he doesn't need to be as subtle or smooth, so a bit more of his malice shows through. My guiding principle for this scene was that the Enemy would "seem fairer and feel fouler" than the average traveler. *Sneak preview* In Chapter Five, we're going to find out some of why Sauron picked Graldor as one of the nine, and it's not entirely what Sauron planned. As for Caldrion, we will see… (smiles that malicious smile that comes naturally to certain fanfiction writers). And I'll try to update with frequently, but like all of us, I feed off reviews.
Wings of the Storm, Chapter II- A Vision for the Future
Caldrion had not gotten far when Graldor called him over. "Leave the dishes to the others. We need to talk." As they walked out, Graldor motioned to Annatar to follow them. They exited the great hall into the quarters beyond, and proceeded to the last door before Graldor's own chambers. Here Graldor opened the door for Annatar.
"I trust that these quarters should do. They're the best I have. If you need anything, there are always a few servants around."
"Thank you, but I doubt I shall need them. It has been some time since I have slept in a real bed, and I expect to sleep like the dead." Saying such words, he stepped into his chamber.
"Oh, one more thing, sir Annatar," Graldor inquired. "Would you object to our introducing your stallion to some of our mares? He has been through hard times, but he obviously comes from outstanding bloodlines."
"Ah, you mean Aroch. Yes, it is even rumored that he is descended from the horse of the god who rode about the world before the dawn of men. He does not seem to like me, so he only exerts the kind of effort you saw this afternoon when he is motivated by something other than my prompting, like the oncoming storm. Do you have any horses that you think might serve me better? I would happily exchange Aroch for a less independent steed."
Caldrion drew in a sharp breath through his teeth. His knowledge of horses wasn't the best, but from what he had seen of this Aroch, he was worth any three or four of Graldor's horses. He couldn't tell if Annatar was naïve with regard to horses or just being generous. Either way, it was certain that Graldor would not turn down that offer.
"I shall have my strongest riding horse ready for you in the morning," Graldor replied. With that, Annatar entered his room and Caldrion and Graldor proceeded into the private royal sitting room.
"Well, what do you think? You're a Numenorean, you should have some instinct about this," Graldor said, obviously anxious to hear Caldrion's opinion about Annatar.
"I don't know what to think. He seems very nice and all that stuff, but there's something that troubles me. I can't put my finger on it, or I would have told you about it during the feast. I just don't know… Speaking of the feast, how did you know he was coming? Because I know you couldn't have had that feast on the table between the time I saw him coming and the time Fremus finally finished."
Graldor laughed, loud and long. "I don't know. Fremus went on so long I think the cooks could have done it. But I won't lie to you. Today was the feast of St. Beleg." Caldrion paused and wrinkled his eyebrows. Graldor laughed again. "You may be a Numenorean, but you're still young and gullible. No, I won't lie to you. Last night, I had the most vivid dream. I heard a clear, strong voice telling me that the Lord of Gifts was coming, and I saw a lone rider on a black horse approaching Aratur from the east, but instead of a storm he was silhouetted by the rising sun."
Caldrion uttered, "For someone capable of sending dreams, he sure has a lousy sense of timing."
"That's what I thought, but when there was no word by noontime, I went ahead and ordered a feast, assuming that if he didn't come I could figure out some kind of a back up story, thus the canonization of Beleg."
"Beleg?" Caldrion asked. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it.
"Some character in one of those depressing songs my mom used to sing. I just liked the sound of the name, but since our friend showed up, I didn't have to use it. Just as well, considering someone in this town probably knows who Beleg really was. Anyhow, what do you think of this ring? It's just amazing, isn't it? Being in some kind of superconsciousness, or something, where no one can see you."
"What do you mean? It made you a little blurry, but that never qualified you as invisible."
"You mean it doesn't work on you? No one else could see me, though some of them were so drunk they probably thought it was their imaginations." Caldrion shook his head. "Rats," Graldor muttered, "so I can't use this thing to sneak up on you… Not that I would anyway, of course."
"That ring makes you invisible? How could you tell?" Caldrion would have been more vehemently incredulous but for the late hour.
"Well, aside from the fact that at least half a dozen told me during dessert, when I put the ring on I entered this gray, hazy world. Everything on the table and everyone around it were blurred as though covered in mist, like undefined phantoms. Despite the fogging of my eyesight, I could hear conversations all the way from the kitchen, which is something I could never do before. I felt powerful, as though my own strength had been doubled or tripled. As I looked around, I saw Annatar, clear as day. Where all those beautiful rings had been, there was now only one, an unadorned band of gold. He stretched out his hand toward me, and my hand with the ring was drawn toward his. He was saying something, but it was so quiet even I couldn't hear it. I felt as though I were in a trance, but then I came back to my senses and removed the ring."
Caldrion contemplated what his lord had said. On the one hand, being in a state where you lack control of your own actions is decidedly a bad thing. On the other hand, there was something enticing about the ability to become invisible. Nevermind the potential childish uses, which Caldrion had only recently learned to dismiss as such and which still enchanted his master. Invisibility could turn Graldor into something approaching a god in combat, and, as Caldrion knew from the smattering of elven history he had learned in Vinyalonde, the presence of one such warrior could have a dramatic effect on the outcome of battle. Maybe Fremus was right. With this ring, perhaps Graldor could become the 'lord of the fertile plains.' "Did Annatar tell you about other men of the plains?"
"He did, but there wasn't much to say. We are the only permanently inhabited settlement, unless you count a couple tribes living at strong points at the feet of the mountains. Many bands of barbaric nomads roam the region, but little else. On a strategic level, according to Annatar, these plains are good for nothing except for providing an open road from one side of the Misty Mountains to the other. The elves, even if there were enough of them to do so, would have no desire to conquer the area because of its size and its lack of natural defenses and the absence of natural resources. Annatar thought that, over time, this plain could be turned into a highly productive breadbasket, but that would take longer than even your lifetime. Men, unless they planned to create large-scale irrigation and large farming communities, would not settle in large numbers. But the strategic importance is undeniable. Because dwarves control most of the Misty Mountains, the Angren Gap was the only viable way for a large force of orcs to cross the mountains." Graldor's voice began to get louder, as though building toward a climax. Caldrion realized that he needn't have been so angry with Betlin, the boy who had dropped the plates during dinner. Graldor's speech almost certainly came close to being verbatim with what Annatar had said. As Graldor continued, Caldrion made a mental note to apologize to Betlin for being so irate.
"If a man were to control, and by that I mean politically and militarily, all the territory from the Angren Gap to the Onodlo Delta, he would rank among the most powerful men in Middle-Earth. Were a strong leader to arise among the orcs, this man would be able to demand a very hefty tribute, perhaps even his pick of the plunder, to allow the orcs to cross. If the elves wished to prevent such a crossing, they might offer to use some of their manifold skills to aid his kingdom. Such a kingdom could in time rival the wealth and power of Numenor across the waters." Graldor stopped suddenly and hesitated before continuing. "Annatar told me that this was my destiny, decreed by the Valar and perhaps even in the Song of the Ainur. I was to found the greatest kingdom of men in Middle-Earth, and he would help me do it. I would conquer the plains, defend them, irrigate them, and give them noteworthy civilization. This is my destiny."
Caldrion had never seen Graldor this worked up about anything this side of a pretty woman, which was saying something. Caldrion was just slightly skeptical. "Sounds great, but how are we going to do it? If nothing else about that plan is intimidating, the manpower we would need to accomplish it is far more than have ever lived on the plains. And the timetable would have to be in hundreds of years. Perhaps Annatar planted this seed in your mind in the hope that Aratur, the only settled town on the plains according to him, would destroy itself trying to accomplish it. As nice as this plan sounds, it is far too grand a thing for us to accomplish during your lifetime, and probably mine as well. If we leave the realm of dreams sent by elf-wizards, we really need to focus on getting a good harvest this year, because without it we probably cannot stay in Aratur."
"But Annatar said he would help me, so it is possible. Concerning the harvest, he told me that this storm would be the last of its kind for the summer. All the subsequent rains would be gentle, and we will have our best year yet."
"Sounds good, but how do we know it is true? And even if it is, how does that bring us closer to this outrageous but divinely appointed task?"
"To your first question… you're right, of course. Just because he can send dreams and give magic rings doesn't mean that his foresight is infallible. But what does it matter? Based on our early indicators, if the plantings survived this storm they should at least be adequate, enough to get us through the winter. If we get any more rain and it doesn't wipe anything out, we should have enough to keep some in our granaries for the subsequent winter, and when that happens, we can finally be assured that this is a permanent, and not a semi-permanent settlement. For manpower, Annatar told me of a new phenomenon: settled orcs. Some of the elves of his nation have run into trouble with them. Apparently, after the last invasion, a substantial number of orc leaders decided to gather in small communities, using human and possibly elven slaves to support their lives of leisure. There are several such communities along the Onodlo to the east and the Great River beyond. If we were to attack these camps, none of which contain more than fifty orcs, we could liberate the slaves and use them to increase our population. Of course, we would have to have a well-trained military force before we could attempt such a thing."
"Well, training wouldn't be too hard. You have some combat experience, most of the men are at least competent with a sword, and I learned a few tricks from the good people of Vinyalonde. If I were you, I'd let the matter rest at least until next summer. We have to get a good harvest this year, and trying to begin military training will distract people. At most I would grab the best warriors we have and start preparing them to teach the others in the military arts, so that we have a training mechanism in place when we begin. In the meantime I would try to either make or obtain more swords, bows, and arrows. What we have now is not adequate for any extensive campaign. Another thing I might do… introduce Aroch to all the ladies. I had been under the impression that the horse of the god was white, but who am I to question our generous benefactor? Admittedly, I know little of horses, but what I do know is that that is one excellent horse, his lineage notwithstanding, even with possible mistreatment."
"Mistreatment?" Graldor interrupted.
"My guess is that because Aroch and Annatar do not get along well, he does not treat the horse as well as he might. You saw how willingly he parted with Aroch. He probably wants a horse that will easily bend to his will, and Aroch probably has a mind of his own in that regard. Anyway, with horses like that, we can have one major advantage over the orcs: cavalry. In these plains, that is a tactical and strategic advantage that will prove immensely helpful if we are to control this region. If we do everything slowly and carefully, we might be able to fulfill Annatar's vision, given a few hundred years."
"That's about what I was thinking. This is a good plan, and it will work. Thank you, Caldrion, you've answered my question. Now go and get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."
As Caldrion walked out of the chamber, he turned back toward Graldor. "One other thing. You should use some of your royal downtime to experiment with that ring. People may be unable to see you, but they might still be able to hear or smell you. If they can, you'll have to learn to negate that so you can use the ring to the fullest advantage on the battlefield."
"Good idea. Good night."
Caldrion, despite his fears that he would be unable to sleep as he pondered the events of the day, dozed off rapidly. He spent much of the night, however, dreaming. He saw mounted riders arrayed in the morning sun, fitful glimpses of combat, his lord atop a proud foothill. His vision swirled and blurred, and he watched people- civilians- dying, slain by what he couldn't tell. He perceived screams, and saw a small company riding away from him across the plains. Then all went black. In his subconscious he heard first the thundering of hooves, then the ringing of swords, which faded suddenly into silence, broken by the beating of heavy wings and a piercing shriek, which caused him to bolt upright in panic, sweat dripping from his head and bare chest.