Through the Darkness Unescapable by Valiniel

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Chapter 16: The Secret Part One

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The Secret: Part One

3319, Second Age

Rómenna

The small cart was headed towards the house, the horses hurrying over the unpaved road. From inside the gate, Isildur watched as it approached him, wondering who its passengers were. It drew closer and the horses slowed. The man driving the cart called out to him. "Open the gates quickly, Isildur. I have important business to discuss."

Isildur hurried to open the gate and looked up at the driver, confusion evident on his face. "Eärdur? I thought that you had gone to Armenelos?"

"I did," came the answer. Upon closer examination, he saw that Eärdur had been laden down with many large boxes and packages. Between them sat an old woman, hunched over and wrapped in a cloak. A few wisps of grey hair hung out of the hood, but he could not clearly see her face. She was silent, and did not look up. Perhaps she was sleeping. Isildur hoped so, and regretted speaking so soon. In these days, there were few that could be trusted.

"Who do you bring with you?" he asked quietly when Eärdur drew near. The servant looked back at the old woman.

"One of us," was his simple answer. The woman stirred, and Eärdur walked around to help her out of the cart. Isildur watched as he took the old woman's withered hand and helped her climb down carefully from her perch amid the boxes. She said nothing as she descended, and Eärdur began to lead her towards the house. "Come," he said, turning to Isildur. "Let us go inside where we may speak at length."

This situation was getting stranger by the moment, the son of Elendil thought to himself as he followed Eärdur and the old woman towards the manor. Once inside, he noticed that the woman was no longer leaning on Eärdur for support. "Who are you, madam?" he asked, as kindly as he could, though he knew that suspicion was fighting its way into his tone.

"For one so talented in the art of disguise, you have no skill at seeing through the disguises of others," came the voice from beneath the hood. Isildur smiled then, for he knew that voice. This voice had read him stories when he was a tiny boy. This voice had reminded him not to run through the halls, or at least not unless he intended to race her.

"Aunt Míriel? How did you manage this?" he asked. She looked up at him and smiled.

"With great care," was her reply. "When you sent Eärdur to Armenelos, he managed to meet with me in secret. I have some secrets of my own, so I arranged to travel here to Rómenna without my usual escort."

"But how?" the younger man pressed.

"My handmaiden's tea was a bit too strong for them," the queen told him, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "My guards happened to drink the same tea, I suppose. They fell asleep in the library while I was copying manuscripts. I disappeared into the halls of the library and came to the place where Eärdur was living. We put together a disguise for me, and so escaped the city."

Eärdur looked outside at the cart. "I must bring in the boxes. If I could have some help we can get them inside before anyone wonders what they contain." Now Isildur's curiosity was even greater.

"What have you brought with you?"

"For now, that is another one of my secrets. First, I would speak with your father," Míriel told him, and the light faded from her eyes. Suddenly, she truly seemed old. Her eyes were tired, and her face betrayed a great sadness.

"I am sorry," Isildur told her. "My father left yesterday on business. He does not plan to return until this afternoon." The queen nodded and looked down at the old cloak she had wrapped around her.

"I can wait a few hours. Perhaps I might clean myself up a little?" She pulled her hood back, revealing coils of greyed hair and a face covered in cosmetics to make it seem older.

"Of course," Isildur was quick to reply. "Elhíril can help you find what you need. Do you have clean clothes?"

"Somewhere," she replied. "However, I fear they may be buried beneath the boxes; yet another reason to bring the cargo in soon. If you would, help Eärdur carry them in, and have Anárion do the same. Do not open them yet. I mean for them to be a surprise."

"As you wish," the young man answered. "I think you will find Elhíril in the sitting room in this hall. It is the second door on the left." With that, he followed Eärdur out to the courtyard to begin bringing in the many crates and boxes. Míriel sighed, thankful that this part of her journey was complete. She was safe, and soon she would speak with her cousin and give him her message.

Just as Isildur said, his wife, Elhíril, was in the sitting room reading. Overjoyed to see the queen, she rose and greeted her with a warm embrace. The young woman looked much older than the last time Míriel had seen her. The great pain Elhíril had endured had not made her any less cheerful, and she had the sweetest disposition of anyone Míriel had ever known. Her questions were careful and always tactful, but still difficult to answer. The news from Armenelos these days was always dark, and the queen found herself wishing that she had some good news to give Elhíril. She was thankful when she was left alone to wash away her disguise and the dirt from her journey.

Later, there was a knock on the door. A girl's voice told her that there were clean clothes outside the door. It was a voice that Míriel did not recognize, probably one of Anárion's young daughters. Opening the door slightly, Míriel pulled in a clean blue dress. Carefully, she fastened the shoulder clasps and tied a belt around her waist. She pulled back the sides of her hair and fastened them with the few pins she had from her disguise. Looking in a mirror that lay on a table, her reflection calmed her. She was no longer the magnificent queen of Númenor, nor the ragged old woman, but simply Míriel.

When she left the washroom some time later, she found three people waiting for her. Elhíril stood behind two girls. Identical in appearance, they were both tall with blond hair and grey eyes. They looked nervous, as if they weren't sure if she would approve of them or not. Perhaps in their eyes, she was still a queen and not their kinswoman. Míriel mustered a warm smile. "I have not seen you two since you were babies. It is as Anárion has written: you have grown into lovely young women." One tried hard to maintain her serious demeanor, but the other broke out into a grin.

"I'm glad we can finally meet you…" the grinning girl searched for a name or title, but stopped.

"You may call me Aunt Míriel, if you wish," the queen said warmly. "Your father did."

"Even I called you Aunt Míriel," Elhíril laughed. "For an only child, you certainly have many nieces and nephews."

"Father has told us lots of stories about you," the more serious twin finally said. "He said that you love lore almost as much as Grandfather does."

"He has also told me that you are quite the scholar," Míriel agreed. "Perhaps sometime we may share tales of old, Anduniel." That brought a slight smile to the girl's face. She looked so young, and yet it had seemed like yesterday when they had been infants. Míriel had not seen them since Isildur and Elhíril's wedding 21 years ago. It made her feel old: Elendil's children were having children of their own…

"Let us find somewhere to sit comfortably while you wait for Elendil," Elhíril suggested. Míriel nodded, and they headed down the hallway.

"I'm amazed you can tell us apart," the smiling twin said as they made their way towards a parlor. "Everyone always thinks I'm Anduniel and she's Romeniel. Sometimes even Grandfather gets confused."

"He does it on purpose to tease us," the other twin replied. "He knows very well which one of us is which." Míriel smiled, and was glad that her cousin still had some joy in his life. Hers had become so empty, so bleak… She willed the darkness away. Now she was in Rómenna, in her cousin's house, and she would not let herself fade into her own dark thoughts. Not when she had the chance to know this new generation of her family.

As they approached the parlor, she heard the careless laughter of a young child, followed by that of an older woman.

"The queen is coming!" the little voice exclaimed happily. "Can I really call her Aunt Míriel?"

"You may," came an older voice. "But be on your best behavior and don't climb all over her like you do with the rest of your family."

"Is she having a baby like you?"

"No, my little bird, but I do not think she is used to having small girls like you trying to climb her like a tree." The door was opened, and Míriel looked in and saw two redheads sitting on a couch. As soon as she walked in, the little girl flew across the room and wrapped her little arms around Míriel.

"You're short," was the first thing the girl said. "Grandmother is tall, but you aren't. Shouldn't old people get really, really tall?"

"Tasarwen!" the redheaded woman exclaimed from the couch. "What a way to greet the queen of Númenor!"

"Oops!" the child exclaimed, stepping back. She took a deep breath and said: "Pleased to meet you, Aunt Míriel."

"The pleasure is mine, Tasarwen," the queen said, unable to hide her delight at the young child's enthusiasm and energy. She looked up at the girl's mother. "How are you doing, Finárë?"

"Well enough with this baby trying to kick its way out," she replied, laying a hand on her protruding stomach. "They say it is not long before the child will be born, and I am grateful."

"Father is nervous," Romeniel announced. "He's convinced that the baby will be born any minute now."

Anduniel shook her head. "He shouldn't be. He's gone through it twice before." Míriel smiled and settled herself in a chair in the sitting room. It wasn't long before Tasarwen clambered up onto her knee. She tried to sit very still, but it was impossible for the five year old not to fidget. Míriel truly did not mind, and a quick glance at Finárë told the young mother not to worry. Isildur had been the same at this age: unable to sit still for long. She had almost forgotten what it was like to be around a young child. It was a pleasant reminder, to sit and speak with the women of the household and enjoy their company. Time passed, and Míriel felt more at ease than she had in a decade.

Tasarwen was chattering away when there was a knock on the door. "Come in," Finárë called, and the door swung open a little. A dark haired young man leaned in.

"Grandfather is back," he said seriously. Míriel looked at him, amazed at what she saw. He looked just like Elendil had when he was very young; he had the same hair, the same eyes, the same tone of voice. This must be Elendur, Elhíril and Isildur's only son. They had named him well: he truly took after his grandfather.

"Thank you, Elendur," his mother told him. "We will be down in a moment." The young man lingered in the door, clearly trying to decide whether to introduce himself to the newcomer or go back to give his grandfather the message.

"The boxes have all been brought in…" He, too, had difficulty settling on a title for her.

"You can call her Aunt Míriel!" Tasarwen announced. "I do, and so do Anda and Roma!" Her older cousin smiled slightly at this outburst, then looked up at Míriel.

"I'm glad I finally get to meet you… Aunt Míriel. Grandfather says you've done a lot for us from the capital." She knew what he was trying to say, and was amazed that such a young man would speak of such serious matters. These dark times forced children to grow up too quickly.

"I am glad to meet you, too, Elendur," Míriel replied. "I am sorry that I could not have come earlier to see you and your family."

"We understand," Anduniel assured her.

"I am sorry, but I must excuse myself for now," the queen told the others in the room. "I have to speak with Elendil."

"Not fair!" was Tasarwen's complaint. "You just got here!"

"I will be back. Perhaps I can even tell you a bedtime story later?" Finárë nodded. She was probably glad to have some reprieve from the boundless energy of her youngest daughter. Tasarwen seemed to accept the peace offering, and hopped down off Míriel's knee.

"Come on, Tasarwen! Let's go play with your dolls," Romeniel told her little sister. The young girl eagerly followed her older sister out of the room, with Anduniel trailing behind. Míriel smiled and got up from her chair, and after thanking Elhíril and Finárë for their help, left the room with Elendur.

"Has your grandfather been gone often?" Míriel asked as they walked towards the stairs.

"He has to go get supplies a lot," Elendur replied. "That's what Father tells me. Sometimes Father goes too, but mostly he stays here. I think it is to make Mother happy. She hates it when he must leave."

"I would imagine so," Míriel said quietly. She could not imagine what Elhíril had gone through after Isildur had returned with the fruit of Nimloth. Celaurien had written her many months after she had met Isildur in the marketplace of Armenelos. The letter had been cleverly coded, but from it Míriel had learned that Elendil's son had been close to death for many months, only awakening when the seedling sprouted from the ground. Elendur had been too young to remember anything, but she wondered what effect his father's convalescence and his mother's grief had on him.

She did not wonder long, for they were met by Elendil as they went down the stairs. He said nothing when they were face to face, simple bending down and wrapping her in a tight embrace. At last, he released her, and she could almost feel the joy radiating from him. "In our darkest hour, a light shines upon the house of Andunië!" he exclaimed. The older man turned to his grandson. "Many thanks, my swift messenger."

"You are welcome, grandfather," the young man replied, going back up the stairs. Both cousins watched him go.

"He reminds me of you when you were that age," Míriel said as soon as he was gone. "It is remarkable. Yet there is none of you in Anárion's girls. They are more like their mother, although I see hints of Celaurien in the twins."

"Grandchildren…" Elendil sighed. "It is a pity you could not have been here to watch them grow. It was particularly interesting with the twins and Elendur born so close together. The place was overrun by small children." He kept staring at the top of the staircase. "They grow up so quickly."

"Too quickly, in these dark times," Míriel replied. Her cousin nodded, and then gestured for her to follow him. Together, they descended the staircase and walked into a room off the main corridor. It was filled with boxes, those she had brought with her from Armenelos.

"We may talk in here without fear of interruption," he explained. "We have much to speak of."

"Indeed, Cousin."