Sorry for the delay in posting. A couple other projects were nipping at my heels. Hopefully you enjoy this next chapter.
Chapter 9: The Shadow of the Storm
Galadriel sat unmoving by the door, even as the rest of the men slept in the interior rooms. No sound interrupted her vigil, and an observer would be forgiven for believing she, too, slept. It was only when the door creaked open long past the city's curfew that she finally moved.
"We must talk," she hissed, grabbing Halbrand's arm and leading him back into the night.
She led him silently though a little alley next to their quarters and into a narrow stone courtyard. There, she turned and stared at him. He looked older than when she'd last seen him. Dark circles were etched beneath flat eyes and his shoulders slumped under the weight of her gaze. The fight drained out of her all at once and she sat heavily upon a small stone bench while gesturing for him to sit across from her.
"What is it that you seek to accomplish here?" She asked tiredly, watching his face for any sign of recognition.
Halbrand raised an eyebrow in question but did not answer as he took a seat across from her.
Galadriel studied his weary face again before deciding to be blunt. "I took a stroll before dinner under the cover of the rain and found myself in quite a beautiful garden. There I happened upon a fascinating conversation." Halbrand's jaw tightened visibly. "You seek to convince Pharazôn to break the laws of the Valar. Why?"
Halbrand ran a hand through his hair, eyes fixed on the blank wall over her shoulder. "I told him merely what he wanted to hear; what his own advisors have wanted to say but are too cowardly to admit out loud."
Galadriel stood, agitated. "But if he sails west to Valinor—"
"If he breaks the law of the Valar and lands on those shores, it will have been his decision alone. Galadriel, the Númenóreans are pact breakers. They have abandoned the old ways and every stricture given by the Valar save the one. They live their lives contrary to every value of the Valar, turning their backs to the shores in the West, and in so doing, cling to their false righteousness and revel in their security. If I am wrong and they truly hold fast to the instruction of the Eldar, then Pharazôn will not go West, or perhaps no one will follow him, and the world will be unchanged.
"Whether he sails or not—whether the people of Númenor break faith or not—he will no longer be focused on us. I have bought us peace, for perhaps three generations of Southlanders."
Galadriel groaned softly and slumped back onto her seat. "You play with fire, Halbrand. You know the wrath of the Valar better than any. I fear you have doomed not only Númenor, but all men of Middle Earth."
Halbrand shrugged. "There will be some among the Men of the West who resist temptation. I do not believe the Valar will smite the faithful with the faithless."
Shaking her head, Galadriel stood, weary from the strain of the day. "I pray you are correct. It is too late to undo what you have begun. Now we must wait."
Halbrand stood and laid a hand gently on her shoulder. "At least we need not wait here. I've received permission for us to depart after we break our fast in the morn. Besides," Halbrand's smile took on a predatory aspect, shifting his regal features to something vaguely inhuman, "even if Pharazôn takes no action at all and saves himself from the trap at his feet, he will still be wracked with fear and uncertainty. It is a fitting punishment for his treatment of us."
Of you.
Galadriel shuddered slightly at the unspoken words that seemed to echo in her mind as his gaze bore into hers.
He smiled, his face gentle once more and his eyes again alight, and led them out of the courtyard and back into their temporary home.
When morning dawned, the men were happy to learn of their impending return and readied themselves swiftly for the journey. Pharazôn did not see them off, but Galadriel caught a glimpse of Elendil upon the city walls, silently surveying the departing party.
To a man, the group was solemn and officious as they passed through the city gates and began their journey home. It was only after a few hours had passed and the great port had been swallowed by the horizon behind them that the group relaxed. It was as though a shadow had hung over them throughout their stay, but the sun now chased the chill from their bones and the weariness from their spirits.
Halbrand laughed and joked with the soldiers, the tension gone from his shoulders. Galadriel watched with a smile, but she could not ignore the creeping dread that the very world was speeding toward the brink of destruction.
The journey home passed in a haze of high spirits, and soon the men were settling back into their normal routines. Arondir had returned from his scouting mission just the day before them, but the scouting party had yet to witness any orc activity in the valleys under Cirith Ungol.
"A narrow pass opens into a great cleft in the mountainside, a lush valley shielded by the mountains. It is a sheltered place and defensible. We have set up camp there for now, keeping watch over the treacherous path that leads up the cliff to the pass. Although there is no sign of orcs in that place, there is evidence that orcs have been in the woods nearby, though perhaps not for a few weeks. We will continue to watch. No orc could scale the cliff into the valley without our watchmen spotting them."
Arondir paused and looked around the assembly, meeting Galadriel's eye as his gaze swept the table. She knew he was waiting for Halbrand to speak, but he stood silently at the head of the table, scrutinizing the rough map Arondir had drawn of the scout camp.
Tindómëon, who stood across from Galadriel, looked up from the map first. "This location is defensible and strategic. Regardless of whether the orcs are using that pass, should we not build a permanent stronghold there?"
Ontamo nodded slowly. "It would allow us to keep watch on both the pass and the forest, as well as give the men an opportunity to train in a different environment."
Finally, Halbrand spoke. "I agree. However, we need more than a temporary barracks. We should design the fortifications in such a way as to allow the location to grow into a defensible town. We may someday wish to have a fortified city in the mountains, and the woodsmen may need to move behind walls if the orc raids continue."
Galadriel frowned but nodded slowly. She had no love of the woodsmen, but they had honored their agreement.
"Do we wish to build in the shadow of Cirith Ungol?" Arondir asked quietly.
Halbrand and Galadriel both flinched slightly at the name, while the men looked contemplative. "I don't know much of this being you say lives in the mountains," Ontamo said, drumming his fingers against the table. "But I imagine if we can muster the best of our soldiers, we can burn it out of the mountains and destroy it for good."
Galadriel shook her head, groaning internally as she did so. "No, we must not destroy it. The orcs are hesitant to pass through the darkness, and I'm sure the demon's spawn is picking off some of those who are driven to pass. If we remove the threat, then the orcs will flood the forests and overwhelm us."
She looked at the faces across from her then settled her gaze on Halbrand. His face was impassive, but his eyes stared into hers. She swallowed hard. "We cannot deal with the shadow until the Dark Lands are ridden of Adar and his orcs."
"You would ally with the demon?" Arondir hissed, drawing her attention. His normally aloof expression was colored with visible horror.
Galadriel felt her stomach roil at the words and quickly turned her face from his accusing gaze. "Of course not, but we are in no position to take on an army of orcs at this time. We simply cannot handle both the demon and the orcs that will inevitably follow."
Still staring at her, Halbrand nodded. "She is of course correct. The shadow will not leave the tunnels while orcs or others throw themselves to its mercy. Our men must not approach the pass, but neither can we cleanse it."
Arondir pursed his lips and, with a muttered "yes my lord," he bowed and exited the room.
Tindómëon and Ontamo traded confused glances but did not speak. Galadriel sighed heavily. "We need a team of craftsmen to accompany the soldiers and assist with the construction." She glanced quickly at Halbrand then continued, "I will accompany the party, at least while we plan the fortifications."
Halbrand nodded. "Take additional supplies for the scouting party and a few men who can begin construction. Once a basic barracks is completed, I will follow with more men and craftsmen. We need to begin fortifications as soon as the men have a place to sleep."
With the details finalized, the remaining four quickly parted and began preparations for the new settlement.
By the height of the next day, Galadriel had assembled her team and begun the journey east. The forests on this side of the river were beautiful and birdsong rang about the small group. The road before them was sun dappled and peaceful.
For the first time in a long time, Galadriel felt at peace.
The men murmured behind her, also enjoying the pleasant surroundings, but she tuned them out, losing herself in the familiar comfort of the forest.
Her skin warmed every time she passed through a slanting sunbeam. Every step from her horse released the scent of the grass below her. The trees joined the birds in their song. Somewhere under the underbrush a pair of foxes hunted a lame rabbit. A herd of deer ran freely amongst the trunks somewhere far to their left.
She nearly didn't notice when Alwena rode up to ask about making camp. Galadriel stared at her for a moment, feeling her consciousness settle back on her immediate surrounds, and realized that birdsong had been replaced by cicada calls.
"Of course, we shall make camp in the next clearing. There appears to be one just up ahead."
Alwena bowed slightly before riding back to the others, her severe braid swinging behind her.
Galadriel watched her go before turning back to the path. She was troubled by how quickly she'd slipped back into the habits of her life before men. She had spent weeks wandering the Greenwood one year and longer wandering the golden forests of Valinor with her brother. Time moved differently under the trees as an elf. Yet for the men with her, time would march on as normal. She must ground herself so long as she led them.
Indeed, for the remainder of the journey, Galadriel only let herself bask in the spirit of the trees by starlight, as the men slept in their blankets. She would wander by night, listening to the trees around the camp, then lead the men by day, closing her ears to the songs of the woodlands.
On the fifth day, shortly after the group had struck camp, the songs faltered. The trees grew smaller as the black mountains reared up before them. The men behind her muttered fearfully—this was the first time many had seen these mountains since their forced flight. The small strips of sky visible past the mountains were grey and malevolent, but the shadow of the nearly full moon was just visible through the haze. Whatever Adar had done, it had poisoned both land and sky beyond the mountains.
Galadriel found the cleft in the cliffs without much difficulty. A meadowed valley ran far into the mountains until it reached a walled dell, framed by the craggy cliffs on all sides. She knew somewhere in those cliffs dwelt a different darkness, much older and more primal than the evil in the Dark Land, but she forced her attention to the camp that was already set up in the hollow.
Isildur strode forward to meet them. "My lady, I did not expect to see you. Do you have new orders?"
Galadriel smiled at him and dismounted. "Indeed. The king has resolved to establish a permanent outpost here to guard the lands beyond the mountains. I am here to receive your report and begin construction."
Isildur saluted. "Nothing to report. We have seen no signs of orcs or anything coming down from the cliffs. Some of the men report hearing strange noises in the night, but the watchmen never see anything."
"Report received. At ease, Isildur. I have news for you as well."
His eyes widened. "Is Cerys ok, what's wrong?"
Galadriel laughed. "I believe Cerys is at her work contentedly, though I imagine she would be flattered by how quickly your mind turned her way. However, I was speaking of someone else entirely." She smiled at his confusion. "I spoke to your father several days ago. He wants you to know that he misses you."
Isildur's smile was blinding. "You saw my father? He's well? What about my brother and sister and the queen?"
Galadriel's smile faltered but she waved away his concerns as they walked into the small camp. "Your father and I had but little time to speak, but he seemed well. I can only imagine the rest of your family is also. The queen has wed a courtier, Pharazôn, and they are ruling together now."
"Pharazôn? Truly?" Isildur stopped walking abruptly and laughed.
Galadriel stopped and turned to look back at the younger man. "You know something of him then?"
"Indeed," Isildur said quickly, a smile still on his face as he began walking again. "His son is an admirer of my sister. She has been reluctant to accept his affections, but she should seize the opportunity now since he's moved up in the line of succession. Though I thought he was already…" Isildur broke off his sentence as his steps slowed again.
Galadriel slowed as well and waited for him to collect his thoughts. He seemed puzzled at first but slowly the color drained from his face. "The Valar protect us…"
"Isildur? What ails you."
He stared at her, his eyes haunted. "He's her cousin, milady. Pharazôn was already next in line for the throne as Miriel's father's brother's son."
Galadriel felt her own skin grow clammy. Even for elves, who have few children, it was unusual for cousins to marry. Men lived far shorter lives and had spawned a far greater population. "Surely that is not acceptable among the men of Númenor?"
Isildur shook his head quickly, looking ill. "Indeed, it is not. It is against both our custom and law."
He is an oathbreaker. Halbrand's voice rang cold in her memory, but she felt a surge of her own fury well up alongside the memory of his.
"How did this happen?"
Isildur shook his head slowly but did not answer. Instead, he turned and continued walking, steps slow and measured as he sank into his thoughts.
Galadriel followed, wondering once again what the future of Númenor would be and whether the rest of Middle Earth would survive the coming storm.