A/N: Okay, in this chapter we finally get to the Tale! As always, reviews will be appreciated! Enjoy!
Númenor has few good tales, as I have noticed over my years of experience. Many of the more "interesting" stories concern our involvement in the affairs of others, such as the Elves, rather than our own land. Other stories focus mostly on political intrigue (with many about the subject of succession), something many find quite dull, dry, and difficult to understand. There is, however, one story that is truly "Númenorian", and anyone who is reading this should instinctively know what I'm talking about.
-From the Abridged Journals of Arnuzîr
Although normally very calm and patient, today Meneldur was pacing up and down the hallway outside Almarian's (his wife) room furiously, and was praying to the Valar that the ordeal was soon ended. Today was quite possibly the most important day of his entire life, for today his child was being born. From inside Almarian's room, he heard the midwives and the doctor conversing. Meneldur did not really have the stomach for such operations. He preferred to view these things from afar, in his lore, rather than up close and personal. This is what made him the explorer rather than the excavator.
Finally, he heard it, that magical noise. From inside of that room came the wailing sound that could only belong to a newborn. He hurried into the room, where he saw the midwives and Almarian, who looked tired but triumphant, crowded around his child.
"It's a boy," said Almarian with pride in her eyes. "This one's going to be strong, I just know it." Meneldur gazed at his child with adoration. He was also cognizant of the fact that one day this boy would take the throne. He hoped that the child would be strong enough for it.
"What will we call him?" he asked.
"His name will be Anardil, after my grandfather, but we will call him Aldarion in his day to day life," she responded. Meneldur smiled, realizing that he should have known that Almarian would have had everything well planned out.
Everything had been prepared in Armenelos for Aladarion's birth, of course. A great festival had been planned in his honor, and the people of Númenor, even those not in Armenelos, would be happy to have a chance to celebrate for the week. A national holiday was declared, and soon the festival began. Meneldur and Almarian were not in attendance, since they had to care for Aldarion.
Meneldur also still had to work as a Prince. He had many minor jobs and other bothers that he had to deal with, even on special occasions such as this. And, of course, he wanted to spend more time gathering and organizing his lore.
Meanwhile, the rest of Númenor celebrated for a full week, for this was before their many troubles began and the people could afford to stop working for a week, or possibly even longer, without reaping the consequences. It took some time for the people to settle down into a normal routine, but they managed nonetheless.
Later, Meneldur and Almarian had two more children, both daughters. Their names were Ailiniel and Almiel, and they enter not into this tale, although they have their own importance elsewhere. The festivities surrounding these two were not as strong, now that an heir had already been born, but the people of Númenor were still willing to welcome them.
Meanwhile, Aldarion grew into a fine young man. He took after his maternal grandfather, Vëantur, in that he loved ships and everything concerning them, all things nautical. Vëantur had been Captain of the King's Ships when Tar-Elendil was King, showing his love of ships.
Unlike his father, Aldarion spent little time in the North, especially not Forostar, where Tar-Meneldur had spent most of his life before becoming King. He preferred rather to spend his time in Rómenna, the greatest port in the entire world save Alqualondë. They argued often about this.
"I don't see why you don't want to spend a summer with your paternal grandfather, Tar-Elendil, up in Sorontil at my tower. I loved being there, he loves it there, and I know for a fact that you will love it there too. So why will you not go?" Meneldur asked angrily.
"Father, please try to see this from my perspective," beseeched Aldarion. "I am 17, what love have I for old lore and dusty scrolls? I would rather spend time Vëantur with his ships in Rómenna, where I can do something that I enjoy!"
Meneldur glared sternly at him. "There are many things that Elendil could teach you that would be vital to you when you are King. When you are King, you will not need to know how to build a boat, or how to rig a sail, or whatever it is that sailors do."
Almarian interjected. "Please, you two let us not bicker and squabble like a pair of old dwarves. Compromise is key here. Why not spend part of the summer with one grandfather, then part with the other?"
Both Meneldur and Aldarion turned to face her and said "No" at the same time, the glared at each other. In the end, Meneldur decided to be grateful that Aldarion was accomplishing something with his life, even if that something was not to his satisfaction, and allowed him to stay with Vëantur.
It came to pass when he was 25 years of age that Vëantur, seeing that he wise and mature, offered for Aldarion to come with him on a voyage to Mithlond and the Ered Luin. Once more, Meneldur was loath to allow Aldarion to choose such a path. He weighed the pros and cons of the situation, balancing things between the advantages of letting Aldarion expand his horizons and the potential dangers that lay on the route. In the end, he told Aldarion to follow his heart, but to remember that one day he would have to become King of Númenor.
On his journey, Aldarion had great fun. He made friends with powerful people, such as Círdan the Shipwright (who taught him many things about boats) and Gil-galad, the mighty son of Fingon. He also made contact with some of the Men of that region, learning from them certain talents that no Númenorian knew at that time. He also taught them a few things, and he became friends with the leader's son, Tu-Ankh. The voyage took him a grand total of two years, during which Meneldur was constantly apprehensive. He did not act like his normal, calm self but took to snapping at others and changing moods in a blink.
All were happy to see Aldarion return to Númenor. Meneldur asked of him what he would remember from this journey, but Aldarion gave a noncommittal response, for the love of the sea had overtaken him, and all else paled in comparison to that passion.
Being far too old at this point, Vëantur never again voyaged from Númenor. However, he gave his ship, Númerrámar to Aldarion so that he could go on more journeys. Soon enough, Aldarion asked for leave to go on another voyage to Lindon, for three years, and soon after that, he went on another voyage, this one longer and wider in scope. The reason for this was that Aldarion was no longer satisfied with merely going to Lindon. He wanted to go even further, on greater and greater journeys where no Númenorian had ever gone before. He went past the Gwathló, down the coast to the Bay of Belfalas, which he explored in detail.
In vain, Meneldur opposed these voyages, fearing for his son's life. He knew that many an accident could befall a man while on the open seas, even with the favor of the Valar. However, Vëantur convinced him that Aldarion would be fine. Also, Aldarion was a grown man, and his father could no longer control him.
When he was thirty-nine years of age, Aldarion returned home. The next year, Tar-Elendil permanently stepped down and handed the sceptre to Meneldur, henceforth known as Tar-Meneldur. Because of this Aldarion stayed at home to help his father and to fill some of his princely duties. He put his knowledge that he had gained from Círdan to good work, and came up with many innovative designs for ships that were used for the rest of Númenorian history, even in the great armament of Ar-Pharazôn.
However, soon Aldarion was no longer content with building boats, he sought the adventures that he had once had before his father was kinged. He founded the Guild of Ventures, a group of the best and brightest mariners on Númenor, and many from all over the land sought to join. They hailed Aldarion as the Great Captain, and sought his favor and respect. And to stay closer to the water, he had a ship built that he would live on, and he sailed from port to port occasionally, but was more often anchored by the island, Tol Uinen, named after the great Maia who had placed the island there.
Displeased by his son's actions, Tar-Meneldur wrote to him from Armenelos.
"Son, I beseech thee to return home at once. While you play at being Captain and endanger others with your passion, you neglect important duties that you are required to do as Prince of this land. You sow seeds of restlessness and passion in places that would otherwise be quiet and content, and you cause trouble for your mother and me. Please, desist in these activities and come to Armenelos. Ever since Tar-Elendil passed away in 751, this household has felt empty. Your subjects miss you. I ask one more time, please come back."
However, Aldarion refused to turn home and spoke little to Meneldur of his plans and goals. He worked often by himself, and kept his father in the dark. However, Almarian supported her son, and so Meneldur was unable to pressure his son further. Aldarion, without any authority opposing him, became harder and harder to oppose or restrain. He grew headstrong and arrogant, and Tar-Meneldur couldn't stop this transformation from occurring.
Now, Aldarion sought to improve the Númenorian navy even further, making ships that were greater than ever before, some say surpassing even the efforts of the Teleri. And Aldarion was often away from home.
Tar-Meneldur began to indirectly oppose his son and his followers. He prevented trees from being felled for lumber for boats. This forced Aldarion to look to the forests of Middle-earth to replace the Númenorian wood. He established a haven for ships there, called Vinyalondë. The ents, to this day, blame Aldarion as the main reason for the loss of their forests.
Finally, after many decades of opposition between father and son, Tar-Meneldur tried to make amends with Aldarion once more. He asked Aldarion to remain in Númenor, for he wished to officially appoint him as successor to the throne. And for a time, they were reconciled.
Aulenmir opted to pause at this point. He had decided, when he saw that it was getting late, to cut off before Erendis was introduced, as he wanted plenty of time for that segment. Most of what he had told tonight could be counted as more back story, for so much of it was required to tell even the shortest pieces of lore.
'All right, time to get some sleep," he called to the children.
"Aww, come on, Uncle!" they cried. "Just for a few more minutes!"
But Aulenmir was adamant about bedtime, and they finally folded and went to their cots, impatient for the next evening. As he drifted to sleep, Aulenmir wondered how Telimperion was faring.
As it was, Telimperion was wondering the same thing about him. Currently she was taking a small break while she tried to regain her energy. Many of the paths through the mountains had been blocked by the blizzard; so going through them was taking quite some time. She was also damp, sore, and all around irritated. Still, she managed to take some time to think of Aulenmir and the children. She hoped they were getting enough to eat.
With a groan, she got back up again and attempted to continue slogging on, though night was falling fast. She had just crested the peak of a small hill when she heard noises coming from behind her. Turning around, she saw several large black shapes moving toward her swiftly, though in the darkness their forms were obnubilated and she could not tell who they were. One thing she was sure of, though: they were unlikely to have good intentions.
Telimperion tried to break into a run, but it was difficult to run on this difficult terrain, where each step took far more effort than it would have on the flat plains she was used to running on. The mob behind her was catching up, and she was beginning to feel worried. She turned around and saw that they were almost upon her, and then she tripped and fell, tumbling down a few yards
With the figures much closer, she could make them out much better. Looking upon their faces, she was shocked to see that they looked almost like the pictures of orcs that she had seen in some of Aulenmir's books (she was too young to have seen one in real life), but these orcs looked a little different. More importantly, though, what were orcs doing in the White Mountains?
The tallest of the bunch drew his weapon, a nasty-looking scimitar that, more than anything, indicated his intent to harm. He spoke to her "What are you doing on Keraq land, tark? Do you trespass with intent to do harm?"
"Your land?" Telimperion said, quite puzzled. "This is Gondor, not whatever it is that you said."
"You stole our land, it is only fair that we took some back," one of the orcs responded. The leader glared at him cutting him off.
"Clearly, you are no friend of ours. You have come into our land and have claimed it as yours, foolishly. That warrants death, by our code."
Telimperion was shocked. "Death!"
The orc only responded by grinning viciously at her. He brought back his dagger, preparing to swing, when a voice rang out through the night. "*Âdhnto âdhûn, hornu ulkûrzu! *"
Telimperion craned her neck up to see a tall man standing behind her with a very impressive sword in his hands. Upon seeing him, the orcs began howling in frustration, but began backing off. Telimperion picked herself up and followed after the man. She was in awe of the control he had over the orcs.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"They call me Immortal," he said simply.
Mermacil was deep in thought as he gazed from his window at the Ephel Duath. He had been living in Minas Ithil for several years now, and had managed to become an important aid to Lord Faramir. His job was usually to stay within the tower inside the city, but he was occasionally handed a scouting job. He was jolted out of his trance by a loud knock at his door. When he opened it, he found a servant staring eagerly back at him. "This way, sir. Lord Faramir wishes to see you."
Mermacil nodded. "Lead on," he said in his deep voice, gesturing for the servant to begin moving. He found Faramir sitting at his desk, eyeing a map intently.
"Ah, just the man I was waiting for!" he said. Mermacil walked over to the desk and waited for Faramir to tell him whatever he called him for. "I am currently facing an interesting problem. Our intelligence had lead us to believe that the orcs had cleared out of Mordor, with some going to the South with the Haradrim, and others heading east to live by the mountains." Mermacil nodded, this was all information he was aware of.
"However," Faramir continued, "Scouts are bringing back reports of Orcish activity in Gorgoroth. I want you to lead an expedition to there and report your findings back to me. King Elessar entrusted me with this position, and I wish to prove to him that I am capable of governing Mordor."
Mermacil thought over things briefly. "I would love to lead such an expedition," he said. "When would I leave?" he inquired.
"As soon as can assemble a team, which will probably be in a couple days at the latest."
"All right, I will begin preparing." Mermacil said.
"Thank you," Faramir responded. "This mission means a lot to me, but I trust you will handle it well. You are dismissed."
Mermacil walked back to his quarters, without the servant since they had left to do some other errand. He thought over the problem while he began his preparations. "Why would there be orcs in Mordor?" he mused aloud. "And, perhaps more importantly, why are they only now being so active?"
*Translation: "Leave her alone, foul beasts!" I am not entirely sure that this is accurate, so if you know how to translate the Black Speech, feel free to leave a comment with the correct translation.