Land of the King

Chapter 12: Elendur, the Second

Elendur

The ironwood forests were a sight to behold. Decades ago, his father, King Valandur, had obtained ironwood saplings and seeds from the lands north of the Neck. Fruits and grain had been seen as more valuable to the northmen than the hardwood at the time, and so they had accepted the deal gladly

Now, dozens of years later, Elendur walked in the forests his father had planted, marvelling at the height and girth of the black-wood trees. Ironwood had been so desired by Arnor for its strength and hardness had long been likened to iron itself. It had been his father's dream for Arnor to one day, field entire fleets of ships made from ironwood, strong and tough, able to easily withstand the storms of the Sunset Sea.

Work had already begun on felling some of the trees for their timber, yet in keeping with his father's policies, this was done wisely and with as little waste as possible, and care was being taken to ensure future generations would have access to this resource as well.

"When would the first ship be ready?" Elendur asked the foreman.

"Considering the time needed to fell the trees and saw the logs into planks, perhaps a moon before all the wood could be sent to the royal shipyards, and then from there perhaps another twelve moons at least? I am very sorry Your Majesty, but the actual date is a bit hard to determine. Seeing as this wood is for your royal flagship, a significant amount of wood would be needed for a ship of that size, "the foreman replied, roughly calculating the time required for all of the necessary tasks to be completed.

"No matter. I have waited decades now, a few more moons or years would be like a drop in the river," Elendur said, watching as the first tree was felled by the workers.

"Timber!" the workers yelled, as the nearly fifty-foot tree came down. As they began work at cutting and sawing the tree, even as others began work on a second tree, Elendur thought that his father's dream would be coming true very, very soon.


A capable mariner, Elendur was no stranger to the sea. From a young age, he had served on board the ship of his grandfather, Tarondor Hirgaer, and had learned how to sail from him. He had become a captain himself at the age of twenty-five, and had voyaged as far as Barrowton and Bear Island in the north, and as far south as Oldtown and the Arbor.

Yet even during those voyages, Elendur had never been satisfied. He had wanted not to only tread on paths others had taken. Barrowton, Bear Island, Oldtown, and even the Arbor, they had all been places men of Arnor visited frequently.

Elendur had pushed further than all of them, leading the Guild of Venturers to seek out new lands and new riches far and abroad. Following his lead, the mariners of Arnor had spread out from Annúminas in all directions.

First, he led the Venturers south, past the Redwyne Straits. From there they explored all along the coasts of Dorne, the archipelago of the Stepstones, and south-western Essos up to the Rhoyne, the greatest river the Arnorians had encountered so far, even larger than the Mander in the Reach. There they met and encountered the Rhoynar, a slender people with smooth olive skin, black hair, and dark eyes. The Rhoynar lived in a number of city states along the banks of the Rhoyne river, and were a remarkably advanced civilisation. They had a unique and intriguing culture and religion, centred around the river, which they called Mother Rhoyne. The Dúnedain were very touched by the warm hospitality of the Rhoynar, and in gratitude, aided them in refining their ironworking skills, which they had just developed, and taught them many other things about medicine, law, and philosophy.

Moving onwards, they rounded the peninsula of the Lands of the Long Summer, and passing the Isle of Cedars, they entered the Bay of Ghis. Unlike the previously warm greeting with the Rhoynar, the Ghiscari saw their ships as foreign invaders. Although they were allowed to enter, the Dúnedain were treated with much hostility. For their part, the Arnorians looked upon the slaving culture of the Ghiscari with disgust, the reminder of the decadence of old Númenor too much to bear.

And so the expeditions of Arnor continued. In some places they were seen as enemies, others as friends and potential trade partners. Pushing further east, Arnorian ships explored the Jade Sea, and traded with Qarth, Yi Ti and Asshai. The city of Asshai-by-the-Shadow was the furthest east the Arnorians reached, and the city itself and the lands surrounding it were very… wrong, in many, many ways.

Asshai was a massive city, five times the size of Annúminas, yet with only a fraction of the latter's population. There were no children in Asshai, and the Arnorians were very unnerved by that. Fish in Asshai was also mutated and grotesque. Further into the peninsula, demons and dragons supposedly prowled the wilds. A ruined corpse city sat deep in the peninsula, Stygai, and even the shadowbinder mages of Asshai feared to go there. Ghost grass, a pale and tall grass grew in the wilds, and yet no animal would eat it.

Asshai and the Shadowlands so unnerved Elendur and his fellow explorers, that they had decided to halt their eastern explorations for the time, in fear of treading further into unknown lands and waters and wary of what they would find beyond.

The south coasts of the Summer Sea were thus charted instead. The coasts of Ulthos and Sothoryos were explored and charted. The Basilisk Isles and Naath were visited by Arnorian adventures. The Summer Islands were discovered when ships were blown off course, and the impact of the Arnorian ships landing would later lead the peoples of those islands to take to the seas as well.

Expeditions were then planned to venture north, beyond the Stepstones. Arnorians merchant ships and explorers entered the Narrow Sea, trading with the various kingdoms and civilisations on either coast. Following the Westerosi coast further north, they explored the Bite and travelled as far north as Skagos, beyond the Wall, even attempting briefly to find a northwest passage.

Rounding the north-western Essos, they continued eastward, encountering and trading with the people of Ibben and Sarnor. South of Ibben, the Arnorians were pleasantly surprised to discover that the Ifeqevron were an enclave of Tawarwaith, Children of the Forest.

Pushing past the Bone Mountains, the largest mountain range in the world, for the second time, this time on the north side, the Arnorians came to the Thousand Isles and Mossovy.

Ever further the Arnorians ventured, for their thirst of knowledge was insatiable. Wherever they went, the Arnorians were either feared or loved. In some lands, they were even seen as gods, and the natives dreamt for their return, so that they may learn of their knowledge. As being arguably more advanced than any civilisation they encountered, and certainly the most capable in seafaring, the Arnorians became the centrepiece of a great trade network that spanned these vast distances, liking faraway civilisations and empires, sharing technologies, ideas, information, and philosophies, and bringing back immense wealth to Arnor.

Soon exotic foods and luxuries became prized in Arnor. Spices and silks, exotic flora and fauna and other such goods were brought back. And so began the rise of Arnor's maritime trade empire.

And yet, despite all their far explorations east, south, and north, the west remained barred to Arnor. They were possessed of the greatest and largest ships in the world, steered by the greatest seafarers ever seen, yet not even the Dúnedain could weather the storms of the Sunset Sea.

Fierce gales broke the masts of many ships who tried, and enormous 100-foot waves drowned entire fleets of explorers. The Dúnedain, the Men of the West, could not go west. A cruel irony. Many an adventure would drown in the sunset trying in vain to find the fabled isle of Elenna, and as the years passed, the willingness of Arnorians to venture west began to fade.

Nevertheless, their explorations did bear some fruit. To the north, they came ever more frequently to the lands of Cape Kraken, the Stony Shore, Barrowton, Sea Dragon Point, and Bear Island, enriching the native First Men kingdoms with trade.

Past the Bay of Ice, they explored along the Frozen Shore, and all the lands north of the Wall would come to be named Uilos, ever-snow, and what an apt name that was, for it was always winter in those frigid far northern lands. The native First Men wildings beyond the Wall were far, far more primitive than even their southern counterparts, and on both coasts, they had fled before the Dúnedain, too frightened to greet them in any way.

On only two occasions were Arnorian ships able to successfully discover lands farther west than any other location they knew. To the west of Angren, the Arnorians discovered a small archipelago of thirteen islands. The islands in question were added to the province of Angren and promptly settled. In the second occasion, Arnorian ships sailing to the Summer Islands were blown off course to three small islands some two weeks south-west of Oldtown. The Arnorians paid little heed to these small islands, as they were too small to serve as a meaningful outpost. The captain who discovered the islands named them Tol Elendil, Tol Isildur, and Tol Anárion, for the first King of Arnor, Elendil, and his two sons.

These explorations were a key reason for Elendur's desire to see his father's dream come true. He believed that ships made of ironwood could enable Arnor to explore even further and perhaps even withstand the countless storms of the Sunset Sea. Yet storms were not the only danger to ships, krakens, giant squid-like creatures, had been proving to be a menace to many of Arnor's whaling and fishing ships, attracted by the blood of the catches.

A year and a half after his inspection of the ironwood forests, Elendur stood atop his new royal flagship, the Osfalf, Fortress of the Waves. The 150-foot long ship was made entirely from ironwood and had been built using the latest shipbuilding techniques and designs. And now, Elendur was to sail it on its maiden voyage, a short trip north to Angren. It was now the 1045th year since Elendil's Landing, almost two centuries since his grandfather had conquered the Grey Islands, and yet it was only now that they were beginning to truly accept Arnor's rule and abandon the self-destructive culture of their reaving ancestors.

Elendur's visit to Angren was thus a show of power, to remind the recalcitrant islanders of Arnor's military might, as well as enable Elendur to visit his viceroy in Angrenost. Yet despite the misgivings of the islanders, Elendur felt that slowly but surely, he was winning their loyalty.

His grandfather had been admittedly very cruel to the Greyborn, his old prejudices dying hard, and so they had hated him, and the more he had tried to suppress their culture and religion, the more stubbornly they had resisted. Ten times, the Grey Islands had risen in rebellion, and ten times his grandfather had brutally crushed the rebellions.

By the tenth and last rebellion, every single Greyborn noble house on the islands had been extinguished and every last Drowned Priest had been hunted down. The ribs of Nagga were stained red from the executions, and Angrenost became a place of dread to the natives of the newly rechristened Iron Islands.

Yet his father had known that to win their loyalty, a different approach was needed. King Valandur had given the islanders a means to become prosperous under Arnor, treating them with kindness. He gave them great large ships which they could use for fishing and whaling, and the Islands became home to vast herds of sheep who could tolerate the bleak conditions on the windswept isles.

Where the people of the Islands had hated and despised Tarondor, they had come to trust and respect Valandur, and Elendur meant to continue his father's policies and earn their love and loyalty. When that was obtained, Angren would become a steadfast bulwark and province of Arnor, guarding their north flank.

Waving at the great crowds who had gathered to see them off, the sailors of Osfalf unmoored the ship, and slowly but surely it sailed out of the harbour. At the prow of the ship, Elendur beheld the view. All around, the buildings, parks, fountains, monuments, and people of the city covered the hills. Ahead, lied the Sunset Sea, an ocean of sapphire stretching for thousands of leagues, far beyond the horizon.


Lightning flashed across the dark grey clouds hiding the midnight sky from sight. King Elendur, Second of His Name, struggled alongside his crew to bring the ship under control.

The rains lashed against the crew, the heavy drops feeling like hammer strokes. One after another, massive waves battered into the ship, throwing it around like it was a toy and not a 150-foot behemoth of a ship. Thunder cracked every minute, splitting the eardrums of the crew even as lightning split the skies above them.

"Adrahil! We have to get out of this storm!" the King commanded to his captain, his voice hoarse from shouting over the storm.

"Easier said than done Your Majesty!"

Yet they were Dúnedain, greatest seafarers of the age, and perhaps they could have weathered the storm, had it not been for the monster.

Massive tentacles sprang from the waves, thousands of grotesque suckers on their undersides, wrapping around the Osfalf's masts and hull.

"Kraken!" shouted Adrahil.

Elendur began to panic then. Had it just been either the storm or the kraken, then perhaps they could have made it, but together? They didn't stand a chance. The men were too distracted, too disorientated trying to keep the ship from capsizing to fight a kraken as well. It was too convenient, almost like it had been planned.

The kraken's tentacles began squeezing, snapping the masts and cracking the ironwood hull. Had it been any other ship, the kraken would have crushed it to pieces already. It seemed the ironwood had delayed the kraken, but not for long. All around him, he could hear planks snapping, buckling under the kraken's strength. Below, water had begun rushing into the lower decks.

The ship was lost, and in this storm, no lifeboats would ever make it to shore, if they could even be dropped safely from the ship.

Even as the kraken pulled its catch below the water, the waves swept what was left away. The last Elendur saw as he drowned beneath the waves, was a beautiful woman with her hand outreached for him.

'Please, help me,' Elendur thought, begging, before his eyes closed and his world went dark.


Author's Note: *Insert evil laugh for cliffhanger here.