The Great Tales of Beleriand: Definitive Edition by Chilled in Hithlum

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Part Six: The Instruments of Ulmo

This is quite a long chapter taking place during and after Morgoth's assault on the Northwest after the capture of the Pass of Sirion some time before...

Húrin and Huor are rescued by Thorondor and brought to Gondolin; whilst on the following day Voronwë returns there after the disaster of the first attempt to sail into the West in order to gain the pardon and aid of the Valar...

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THE GREAT TALES OF BELERIAND

PART SIX: THE INSTRUMENTS OF ULMO

Eight months ago...

Barad Eithel...

[A cloudy afternoon: Fingon witnesses Morgoth's move against the Northlands, his gut twisting in time with the cyclical drums and inexorable tramping of many feet...]  

Voice of Thorondor: "The High King looked out from his father's watchtower and with dismal eyes he saw his enemies' departure from Anfauglith into Sirion's Pass; and such were their numbers he knew that he was unable to inflict any effective harm upon them without external aid.  In the drear his eyes lingered long and hard upon the furthest mountains at Ladros obscuring from view the March of Maedhros, wherein lay his hope!"  

[Fingon is momentarily distracted by an Eagle's squawk to the south and he follows its flight until it disappears somewhere over the Echoriath.  His eyes return then to the Orc multitude as they pour into the Pass as grains of sand through the neck of an hourglass; still organised, still orderly!  He spies a figure standing tall and proud on a foothill nigh to the banks of the Rivil, his armour glinting dimly in the last of the day's light...]    

The Pass of Sirion...

[Having passed thus far with impunity the Orcs reach the Accursed Isle, they are surprised by a number of makeshift booby-traps of reed and stake...]

Voice of Thorondor: "The defenders and fugitives were aided by the Elves of Mithrim who showed them the secret ways of the labyrinthine Ered Wethrin and its vast underground networks round about the Isle of Sirion, many of which had NOT been delved by Finrod Felagund.  These traps were planted right under the noses of Sauron's main force, whom of which had already pressed on with the southern assault; they not only served as a means of taking out some of the enemy but also provided the signal for attack, feeble though it seemed.  Still, mountains provide good cover and Elven bowmen seldom miss their mark..."  

[By now Sauron had caused several and more permanent pontoons to be erected across Sirion and a great number of Orcs rush the Wethrin-side of the pass where they are met by many volleys and the desperate weapons of the un-housed...]

The Vale of Sirion...

[Sauron's main force falls on Brethil...]

Voice of Thorondor: "Southward the stratagems of Thingol could not have gone any better, for the main assault indeed fell upon the northern marches of Brethil and no attempt at all was made on Dimbar or Talath Dirnen..."

[The pincer movement of Doriath is executed to great effect and the enemy troops soon find themselves encompassed and pressed back...]  

An Eagle-eyed view of the arena of battle...

Voice of Thorondor: "The gambit at Ered Wethrin paid off, for Morgoth's company was unduly delayed and failed to connect with Sauron's; however, their gravest hurt came with the riding out of Maedhros who had watched and waited for the thinning out of foes upon Anfauglith, he was soon joined by Fingon and Galdor, and so it was that many of the Orcs still constrained at the Fen of Serech were ambushed...

At length the attackers became squeezed in at both ends of the Pass of Sirion and they suffered heavy loss!  

Glad was the meeting that night between Noldor, Sindar and Edain; but east of Sirion's Pass stood tranquil Gondolin, visible only from the byways of the air, and encircled by the seemingly impenetrable mountains of the Echoriath.  For the most part, those within that jewelled white city were blissfully unaware to the doings of the world without..."   

Gondolin...

Turgon's bedchamber...

[Turgon shifts restlessly in his sleep, he is soon troubled by unpleasant dreams...]

There is battle between Elves and Orcs - an Eagle squawks - the fighting is reflected within a huge eye that diminishes in size as the great bird (or Turgon) pulls slowly away - first only the head of Thorondor is discernable and then the whole body - the Herald of the Skies hovers in suspended flight, moving neither forward nor to the side; all is still save for the mighty wings which flap at a hypnotic pace until they fade altogether and only the echo of their motion remains...

A deep voice, unforgettable and long suppressed, visits him in the night once more...

Voice of Mandos: "Tears unnumbered ye shall shed..."

The rhythmic flapping motion transmutes into an angry sea...

Voice of Mandos: "...and the Valar will fence Valinor against you, and shut you out, so that not even the echo of your lamentation shall pass over the mountains."

A little ship flounders whilst rapidly growing gigantic rocks break the water's surface from the great beneath...

Voice of Mandos: "On the House of Fëanor the wrath of the Valar lieth from the West to the uttermost East and upon all that follow them it shall be laid also."

A thunderbolt strikes the ship and ignites it...

Voice of Mandos: "Their Oath shall drive them, and yet betray them, and ever snatch away the very treasures that they have sworn to pursue."

A great wind howls bringing a blizzard and all is frozen in an instant: a long procession of exhausted travellers staggers into view...

Voice of Mandos: "To evil end shall all things turn that they begin well..."

One of the party collapses and two others rush to their fallen companion, and as the one is un-wakened the two mourn; the main company is unable to stop...

Voice of Mandos: "...and by treason of kin unto kin, and the fear of treason, shall this come to pass.  The Dispossessed they shall be for ever."

[Turgon rocks agitatedly on opulent pillows; the dream changes....]

He takes an early morning constitutional along the Alley of Roses; Idril links his arm...

Turgon: "Thank you for walking with me this morning..."

Idril: "The pleasure is mine Father: you are usually up and out so quickly that I have always guessed that you wish to be alone at first light to gather your thoughts, it was an agreeable surprise to receive your knock at my chamber door..."

Turgon: "I love this time of day it recalls your mother to me; often in Valmar did we walk together before the first mingling of the Light of the Trees.  Ah Daughter, her face in that Silver-Golden glow was something to behold..."

She snuggles into his shoulder...

Idril: "I remember it well... Often in my girlhood did she speak of my escaping from grandmother and tiptoeing behind you both on silver beams when you wished to be alone.  Alas my golden hair always betrayed me and you would say to mother..."

Turgon: "Your little replica stalks us again; ha, ha, ha!"

He becomes enthused...

Turgon: "Then let us away to the North Stair so that I can stand before you and see her semblance again as the sunlight kisses the ridge of eastern mountains..."

They scurry away to capture this moment, giggling like excited children; on the stair they face each other with outstretched hands tenderly held, and in the half-light they silently wait...  

He sees through Idril's eyes his own less careworn face, serene save for the irises of Midnight Blue that dance sprite-fully amid the burgeoning dew forming about them in the escalating dawn.  To him his daughter's features appear somewhat indistinct backlit by the early morn and the snow laden mountains; until when at last a fine strand of new golden sunshine drapes across the peaks of the Echoriath before bursting forth with full throated birdsong.  His eyes tear up in the glare...

Turgon: "Elenwë..."

In one desperate jerk he lurches forward calling out the name of his wife oblivious to his daughter who clutches him tightly and lays her weeping head upon his breast...

Idril: "Oh Father, are you alright?"

Turgon gives no answer but in a swoon slides from her grip, Idril however is quick enough to preclude the dashing of his head upon the stone steps; unavailing she repeatedly calls for her father to wake and frantically shakes his limp body...

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Presently a familiar sound is heard from above and he looks skywards; Thorondor swoops down to meet he and Idril at the outer walls by the Main Gate...

Turgon: "My Old Friend and Counsellor; what brings you here?"

Voice of Thorondor: "My Master!"

Turgon: "The Elder King?"

Voice of Thorondor: "Yes, and the matter is grim; there has been unsolicited communion a-twixt this place and those in the Halls of Waiting.  I have been sent hither to warn you in the strongest terms that there should not be a second.  Manwë cannot and will not restrain the Doomsman again; some things are beyond his mercy!"

Turgon: "Then it was her..."

Idril: "Who?  What does this mean?"  

Turgon: "Your Mother: I saw her perfectly, she spoke to me..."

Idril: "Nay Father, it was I that stood before you!"

Voice of Thorondor: "Alas he speaks true, Dispossessed Daughter of Two Houses!"

At this Idril seems puzzled...

Voice of Thorondor: "Now Turgon, I must report back all that has passed between your realm and the occupants of Mandos..."

Turgon: "I cannot remember her words clearly..."

Voice of Thorondor: "THINK!!!"

Turgon closes his eyes and pictures his wife as he saw her in the morning light; he shudders at the recollection of her voice as she speaks through him...

"IT IS STRANGE THAT YOU SURROUND YOURSELF NOW WITH PINNACLES OF SNOW WHEN IT WAS UPON THE GRINDING ICE THAT WE PARTED; FOR MYSELF I NO LONGER WISH TO FEEL THE BITE NOR REGARD THE SIGHT OF ANYTHING COLD, BUT PERHAPS IT COMFORTS YOU.  TURGON, YOUR FATHER GREATLY APPROVES OF HIS RESTING PLACE BUT IS STILL MOST GRIEVOUSLY HURT TO BEHOLD THY SISTER IN THE HALLS.  WHY DID YOU NOT REPORT HER DEATH BEYOND YOUR CITADEL... WHY KEEP IT SECRET FOR SO LONG?  MANY TIMES IN BITTERNESS HE HAS QUIZZED ME AS TO WHY THIS SHOULD BE BUT I CANNOT SUCCOUR HIM; HE HAS TAKEN TO BLAMING THORONDOR FOR NOT BARING HIM ANY WORD AND THE VALAR WILL NOT SAY WHETHER OR NOT THE EAGLES WERE PRESENT OR ABROAD WHEN SHE DIED.  IN MY HEART I KNOW THAT THIS IS A MATTER OF GRAVE SERIOUSNESS AND I FEAR THE POISON FRUIT THAT TASTES FULLY SWEET UPON THE LIPS.  O HUSBAND, THIS PLACE CHILLS ME AND I CAN LINGER IN IT NO LONGER, BUT KNOW THIS: TURGON YOU CANNOT AVOID CALAMITY BY CLOSING YOURSELF OFF FROM YOUR BRETHREN, OPEN THY LEAGUER AT NEED WHILST YOUR HOUSE IS YET STRONG... FAREWELL, MY LOVE!"  

His eyes reopen and he almost swoons against the city wall but his vigilant daughter prevents the fall...

Voice of Thorondor: "I detect the folly of wonderment about you.  Do not become enamoured by this event My Friend, and remember the warning that I bring; I cannot guess at the ruin that might befall you if there is another knocking upon the Doors of Doom!  Until we meet again, Dear Elf, I commend you the counsel of the Valar..."   

[Turgon's dream changes once again...]

The Dry River bubbles up with foam revealing the passage of the Hidden Way that links the world without to the inner sanctum of Tumladen; Turgon's stamping feet vainly attempt to stem the trickle that becomes a flood.  The water carries him along as it smashes through the Orfalch Echor and the many doors erected there are unable to withstand it.  At length the mountain vale becomes a lake and Turgon finds himself surrounded on a tiny island upon which stands his fair city: he knows that he is in the presence of Ulmo, the Lord of Waters!  

Voice of Ulmo: "Follow me, Turgon!"

He leaps into the water, in an instant the lake drains and the river runs dry once more.  And not daring to leave his mountain stronghold Turgon looks onto the outer world from the secret ravine towards the Ford of Brithiach where lies the last vestige of the Dry River...     

Voice of Ulmo: "As the Valar number it, the Day of Evil has reached its dawn..."

Turgon waits expectantly for Ulmo to continue but there is the longest pause and all is still.  At length the silence is broken by many footfalls on splashing water.  A scouting party of Orcs advance across the ford; their leader stops to sniff the air and halts his company, "Wait, I smell Man-flesh!"

Voice of Ulmo: "The birth of the one I have chosen as the Instrument of My Design draws nigh..."

A throwing axe smites the Orc leader squarely between the eyes and a hidden company of Men ambush their enemies...

Voice of Ulmo: "Therefore, Turgon, heed my words: deal kindly with the Sons of the House of Hador of whom I entrust to your care!  When you awaken you shall know them better!"  

[Turgon drifts off soundly into a deeper sleep...]

The Brithiach...

[The dead bodies of Orcs and Men lay strewn about; a young man tries to retrieve his axe from the Orc's head...]

Húrin: "Leave it Huor, there are more Orcs heading this way!"

[Huor continues to struggle...]

Huor: "Not a chance, this belonged to our grandfather!"

Húrin: "Hador's axe may be the death of us if you do not hurry!"

Huor: "I will not abandon it!"

Húrin: "Then here let me..."

[Húrin grapples with the handle as the second party of Orcs crosses the ford...]

Huor: "They are on us: RUN!"

[With one final effort the axe is recovered but the Sons of Galdor find themselves surrounded by baying foes advancing with bloodlust in their eyes.  Húrin charges at one axe in hand, hewing at its midriff and spilling guts, whilst Huor employs his speed to evade them; they are soon blindly running headlong towards the ford, an inexplicable mist envelops the Brithiach obscuring the quarry from the hunters...]

Huor: "Húrin, Húrin, this mist is to thick; where are you?"

Húrin: "Right behind you, here grab my arm!  Ah..."

Huor: "What was that sound... Húrin?  Ah, something has hold of me..."

[The mist about them clears most unusually since it dissipates downwards rather than to the side; the brothers soon realise that they are airborne and held firm in the mighty talons of two Great Eagles...]

The Crissaegrim...

[The brothers are brought to their highest eyrie and abode of Thorondor, Lord of all Eagles; they quail before the might of this most prodigious bird that inspects them at close quarters...]  

Voice of Thorondor: "You have never seen my like before, hmm?"

Húrin and Huor: "No, Great Lord..."

[At this they share a stunned glance; not only are they amazed by their simultaneous response but also by the fact that they understood Thorondor's words, both of them grow even more afraid...]

Voice of Thorondor: "Fear not Sons of Galdor, we feast not upon the Children of Ilúvatar; and besides Ulmo hath chosen one of thee to his purpose, therefore, since I know not which brother, both of you have been saved this night from certain death..."

Húrin: "To which purpose do you refer, Lord?"

Voice of Thorondor: "I question not the will of the Lord of Waters, young Húrin; neither should you!"

Huor: "Wait a moment here, we are snatched into midair where you name our father and some vague purpose and ask us not to question it; I, that is We, demand to know the meaning of this!"

[Thorondor squawks angrily and ruffles his feathers...]

Voice of Thorondor: "We know much impudent one and our eyes see more than you could ever imagine..."

Húrin: "And my eyes see, Little Brother, that by now our flesh could have been torn up as carrion but it is not; now apologise!"  

[Huor mumbles under his breath...]

Húrin: "I am sorry mighty Lord, my brother can be difficult at times; however I am his elder and therefore responsible for him, thus I shall accept his punishment!"

Voice of Thorondor: "Your good grace releases you!  Húrin, do not fret for thy brother Huor, I foresee that he shall follow you always and wheresoever you find yourself he will be bound to your shadow; after all are not the bonds of love the strongest of all?"

[At this Thorondor raises a talon and rends two strips from Huor's garments, but after a brief moment he casts them down and looks away east...]

Voice of Thorondor: "Hmm?"

Húrin: "You seem to be in doubt; is something wrong?"

Voice of Thorondor: "Indeed my own counsel seems strange to me but my heart tells me that it is true!  Very well!  You shall both come with me to the great and fair City of Gondolin, abode of King Turgon the Wise; I cannot say what if any answers you shall learn to your purpose but it seems apt that this is where you should be for now.  However, you should both know that this course is not without its dangers..."

Húrin: "How so?"

Voice of Thorondor: "It goes against Turgon's Law that I should take you thither since he forfendth that any should know the way to his halls, or indeed if perchance that it happens that one does look upon his hidden city then he shall not be permitted to leave it - on penalty of death!"

Huor: "Hence the strips to cover our eyes?"

Voice of Thorondor: "Quite!"

Húrin: "Then if your mind is set, Lord, we find ourselves at your command; take us where you will!  But before we depart may I ask one thing?"

Voice of Thorondor: "Of course!"

Húrin: "You said that Gondolin is where we should be for now; how can it be for now when you say also that those who see it are compelled to stay there?"  

Voice of Thorondor: "That is my dilemma, Dear Ones; I am afraid now it is yours also..."

Huor: "So be it, let us be gone and be done!"

[At first light the blindfolded brothers are taken up again and carried by devious ways to the White City on the Rock within the Vale of Tumladen...]

Gondolin...

[Húrin and Huor are led before Turgon's throne; seated at his left hand is Idril Celebrindal his daughter and stood to his right is Maeglin his Sister-Son...]

Glorfindel: "My Lord, may I present Húrin and Huor the Sons of Galdor, Lord of Dor-lómin..."

Turgon: "Ah, the strays that Thorondor left upon our doorstep; come closer boys, let me look at you!"

Huor: "Begging your royal pardon but we are not dogs..."

[Húrin side-kicks him with a gasp: Huor is undeterred...]

Huor: "Moreover, we did not stray to your door for we were..."

[Idril laughs aloud to break the tension: she looks pensively over at her father...]
 
Turgon: "Ha, ha, ha, you are right; it was uncharitable of me to greet you both thus, in actuality we are unaccustomed to receiving guests here in Gondolin..."

Idril: "Quite uncharitable indeed, Father; would you not agree Cousin?"

Maeglin: "King Turgon is master in his own hall and should speak as he may!"

[Idril grimaces towards Maeglin causing Huor to snigger, and with a warm smile she winks at him... Húrin steps forward with a bow.]

Húrin: "What my brother is trying to say, Majesty, is that we were brought blindfold to this place and know not its locale; truly we came hence with little choice in the matter and we understand not the purpose of our visit to these wondrous halls..."

Glorfindel: "You may address the King as Lord!"

Turgon: "Thank you Glorfindel!  Hmm, visit you say; perhaps Thorondor was remiss in explaining the laws of this realm to you?"

Húrin: "Nay Lord, indeed he deliberated much before deciding to bring us here..."

Turgon: "Curious; it seems then that I have much to discuss with our feathered friend!"

Huor: "He spoke of the will of the Lord of Waters; Ulmo, he named him!"

Turgon: "Ulmo is it; hmm, what can this mean?  Ah well I suppose it shall have to wait... so, I am to understand that you are scions of Hador?"  

Húrin: "He was our grandsire, Lord!"

Turgon: "Then I believe that I am in your debt, my friends; for indeed was not Hador he whom served so well my father, Fingolfin?"

Húrin: "He was vassal to the High King, Lord; as is my father after him!"

Turgon: "Then in token of this I feel duty bound and honoured to name ye both as my fosterlings; this I shall proclaim throughout the kingdom and in Gondolin thou shall be treated as such, my Daughter and Sister-Son shall bear witness to this!"

Idril: "Gladly..."

[Maeglin says nothing...]

Turgon: "Now with regard to your purpose here, that is something that we must discover together; for indeed I am too at a loss with the meaning of this strange chance..."

Idril: "But for now we must get our newest citizens settled in, they must be somewhat dazed by all this; if you will allow me Father?"

[Turgon nods his approval... Maeglin watches greedily as she gently tends to her new charges, but he says nothing!]

Voice of Thorondor: "And thus came the first among Men unto Gondolin..."

The following day...

[Húrin is awoken by a far off trumpet call and Huor by its much closer reply - a small group of riders traverse the plain of Tumladen under the Banner of the King - the brothers go outside unbidden onto an arcade where the returning Elves receive a fair welcome - their leader notices Húrin and Huor as he passes by and though curious about them he flashes a warm smile in their direction - the Elf enters Turgon's chamber alone...]

Turgon: "Voronwë, my heart rejoices to see you again, but you are over-late and we feared that you would not return..."

Voronwë: "Truly that is so, Lord; indeed I have much to report..."

Turgon: "That sounds like hungry work; come, let us break our fast!"

The Banquet Hall...

[All present stand for the King, including Húrin and Huor; Idril comes forward and greets Voronwë warmly...]

Idril: "How wonderful to see you again..."

[They embrace as old friends... Turgon gestures to Maeglin that he give up his seat so that Voronwë may sit in honour at the king‘s right-hand, this Maeglin does in grudging silence; Turgon calls for music...]
  
Voronwë: "Truly the city has never seemed fairer to my eyes, although it would appear that our population has swelled since I was last here..."

Turgon: "Ah yes, may I introduce the Sons of Galdor who is vassal to my brother the High King..."

Voronwë: "Remarkable company indeed; I am most privileged to make your acquaintance..."

Turgon: "Húrin, Huor, please meet Voronwë, our Master Shipwright!"

Húrin and Huor: "My Lord..."

Voronwë: "My King, you flatter me with such a term although it is quite strange that you employ it; indeed it was through my meeting with Cirdan, the Greatest Shipwright in Endórë, that I am overdue in giving any report..."

Idril: "Strange have been the chances of this last twenty four hours, first Thorondor bestows us with two foundlings and then we are blessed with the return of our beloved Voronwë; one cannot help but wonder if somehow their fates are interlinked..."

Maeglin: "Who can tell, save for Ilúvatar alone, what the future has in store for us?"

Idril: "The Fëanturi or perhaps Nienna, I shall meditate on this further and call upon them in my dreams..."

Turgon: "I doubt not that you shall find the answers you seek..."

[He rises...]

Turgon: "Now, if Voronwë is willing, we shall adjourn to my privy chamber and I shall learn some answers of my own... the rest of you please remain seated and enjoy your food!"

[Voronwë reluctantly rises, gazing longingly at the still full table; he does not notice Húrin and Huor watching him intently as they exit onto a bright sunlit corridor...]

Turgon: "Do not worry My Friend, the choicest dishes shall be brought to my chamber directly; and please forgive the youngsters their curiosity, they have had a strenuous time of it lately... truly, they came not to Gondolin of their own volition!"

Voronwë: "Then by whose, My Lord?"

Turgon: "The Lord of Waters!"

Voronwë: "Hmm, then perhaps the Lady Idril is right..." 

[Maeglin soon reassumes his position at the dining table...]

Huor: "My Lady, how is it that Voronwë has leave of the city when we do not?"

Maeglin: "The King's word is law and that is all you need to know; be grateful for the graces that you have already received!"

Idril: "I believe the question was addressed to me; I would thank you, Maeglin, not to speak for me again..."

Maeglin: My apologies Lady Idril, I was merely attempting to save you the embarrassment of impertinent questions!"

Idril: "I would also thank you not to interrupt me!  Besides, it is a fair question from one who is unaccustomed to our laws or our history!"

[She turns to face Húrin and Huor...]

Idril: "The King's reasons are manifold and with his blessing I shall discuss them more fully with you both another time; sufficed to say that Voronwë does not come and go as he pleases, and it is true also that he was sent abroad only this once on a matter of grave importance to the King..." 

Huor: "Thank you, My Lady..."

[Maeglin looks askance at the young man as Idril reassuringly pats the his hand...]

Turgon's Chamber...

[Turgon and Voronwë finish their breakfast...]

Voronwë: "First of all, Lord, may I express my deepest sorrow at the loss of your father; Fingolfin showed himself indeed a mighty king!"

Turgon: "My heart weeps for him still..."

[After a brief moment's silence Turgon resumes...]

Turgon: "Ah yes, my father reigned still ere you were dispatched; I had not realised that it had been so long..."

Voronwë: "Indeed Lord, sending us to the Mouths of Sirion in the last days of winter during the Breaking of the Siege proved well judged insomuch that the fighting had all but ceased.  Your foresight and timing rightly anticipated that those fleeing the horrors of Morgoth should have found shelter ere we departed and would not emerge again until the coming of spring; I feel certain that our going was not observed by either friend or foe, for we were neither accosted nor assailed!"

Turgon: "Good, good; pray continue!"   

Voronwë: "We reached our destination in good time and by then the weather had grown kinder, the deltas there provided good harbourage without too much modification; however, it was the use of preformed wooden beams that proved most fruitful to us and the first ships were built right on schedule.  All seemed well us until the day of the first launch approached when I became troubled by a reoccurring dream..."

Turgon: "A dream?"

Voronwë: "Well, nightmare really... or perhaps a vision!"

[Voronwë's Dream...  He walks alone on an unfamiliar coastline, all is isolated and placid until when out of the West there comes a fell wind upon a cloudless sky; with this there is a great surging of the sea and he stands immobilised as the mounting wave rushes toward him.  The water stops short of the land forming a mighty molten wall before him, and so vast does it appear to his eyes that he is unable to see aught else in any direction other than straight ahead.  

He passes through a barricade of glass-clear fluid and regards an assembly of enthroned figures sitting in ring-like formation, they are apparent as kings and queens but to his vague sight their features are indistinct.  They speak not with words and it is only whilst he remains in their presence that he understands their converse; otherwise he forgets entirely what was spoken, remembering only a sensation of total harmony or perhaps unison as he would later describe it.

Presently one of this congress rises from his seat and Voronwë becomes aware that he is encroaching and grows afraid; only then does he understand the sheer scale of these beings for a mighty hand takes hold of him and impels him backwards to the very point where he first stood.  There, the waters stir and rage in his face with great noise; and even though the ocean's vertical membrane remains intact he quails at the terrible shapes made therein.

At length there comes a mist out of the water's agitation that is quite distinct from the natural sea foam; before long he is completely enveloped by its clutching undulating threads where he finds himself transported to a much less pleasant place than before.  He stands now upon a jagged isle looking out to a trammelled sea fighting against the very mist that keeps it at bay.  On a sudden there is a violent rumbling underfoot, all about great pointed rocks of like-type to Voronwë's isle thrust up like monstrous thorns piercing the surface to create an infinite archipelago across the sea; the mist having blasted skyward upon the first impact now begins to settle to form perimeters around each new land mass.  

The haze deepens into fog and there is flat calm, the indiscernible shapes surrounding Voronwë although quite solid begin to take on devious forms; indeed he fancies that the islands resemble the wreckage of many tangled ships scooped up from the seabed by the very hand of Ulmo himself, and pictures form in his mind's eye of countless mariners that have been or will be lost to the terrible drink.

Ever so slowly, ever so softly, gentle waves begin to lap back and forth against the hidden faces of the rocks; such is the rhythmic nature of this occurrence that one might believe that the sea was sweetly singing under its breath, or chanting a soothing mantra.  Voronwë yields to the lament of the sea that sings the contradictory and enchanting Song of Voyage's End; and becoming ever the more enrapt with this hypnotic lullaby he deems it better to live out the remainder his life as a sea-thrall, provided that the music did not end.     

As one invigorated by a beautiful aria he opens his eyes, seeing clearer now through the thinning mist; the nearest isle now looms large, its inclusions of lodestone glowing green.  His blood already charged with the music of the sea now begins to coarse through his body.  And such is the attraction of the iron within him that he is compelled as filings to a magnet toward the harsh rocks opposite; however, before his body is dashed against them he awakens in a drenching sweat...]

Voronwë: "I have told no other of this dream although it has remained potent within for a long time, so much so that I feel its shadow upon me now even as I speak..."

Turgon: "Would you like to take a moment?"

Voronwë: "Thank you no, I am quite alright; I would prefer to get on!"

Turgon: "Very well..."

Voronwë: "Despite my nightly interruptions we successfully launched all seven ships within a year and prepared to dismantle and return home.  To our utter amaze on the final morning there emerged from the Cape of Balar a ship of infinitely superior design to any that we could conceive of..."

One year prior...

[A small contingent of Sindarin Elves disembarks onto the partially disassembled anchorage, among them comes Cirdan of the Havens...]

Cirdan: "Hail Voronwë!"

Voronwë: "Welcome Lord Cirdan, we meet gladly I hope?"

Cirdan: "Well met indeed, I have not seen you since your youth in Nevrast when your family visited the Falas; I seem to recall then that you expressed an interest in seafaring..."

Voronwë: "Yes Lord, I still own the parchments on basic shipbuilding that you gave me long ago; I have studied them much over the years..."

Cirdan: "Hmm, that is apparent; I take it then that your family removed from Nevrast with King Turgon?"

[Voronwë hesitates to answer...]

Cirdan: "My apologies Voronwë you misunderstand, I was merely asking after your House to extend my good wishes; I know that Turgon departed in secret at the behest of Ulmo, besides I would not ask a friend to betray his king..."

Voronwë: "You honour me with your understanding and kind regards to my family, but my father has already embarked and I cannot pass them on..."

Cirdan: "Oh I see..."

Voronwë: "Lord, truly it gladdens me to see you after so long though I am at a loss as to why you have come..."

Cirdan: "I am surprised that you have not guessed, in part at least, since you sent out a string of ships unlicensed by my charter."

Voronwë: "I was unaware that we were breaking any law..."

Cirdan: "Voronwë, I do not claim governance of the sea but you well know that my mariners patrol all the western coasts to observe and deter our enemies; surely you did not think your actions would go noticed?" 

Voronwë: "Apparently they did not..."

Cirdan: "And regarding laws: no, I do not believe that you were offending any statute lain down in Middle-earth, however, your ships were sailing West beyond our shores where it is widely known to all the Eldar that the law differs there..."

Voronwë: "Then perhaps you come as an emissary of Ulmo?"

Cirdan: "Of all the Valar he is the one that requires the least representation on these shores when it is his voice that flows throughout all the waters of this land.  Nay Voronwë, I come on behalf of some your friends that lie infirmed with us when your ships were stricken at sea..."

Voronwë: "Is my father among them?"

Cirdan: "Alas not... I am sorry!"

[Voronwë is visibly shaken by this news...]

Cirdan: "Many are in need of attention: will you come?"

Voronwë: "I would but King Turgon will be expecting my report..."

Cirdan: "Of course but please understand that many are sick and rambling, and whilst I have them in isolation with only a few healers I cannot control what they might say unwittingly about their home.  Perhaps Turgon will pardon you in the greater interests of confidentiality?"

Voronwë: "You are wise beyond my measure; I thank you and gratefully accept..."

Turgon's chamber...

Voronwë: "Cirdan later explained that those in his care were among the last to embark; telling how the first five ships were lost and how many of his own folk perished attempting to aid them, ‘Ossë was cruel,' he said!"

Turgon: "Then they did not get very far?"

Voronwë: "It would seem not!"

Turgon: "And your father?"

Voronwë: "He embarked first!"

Turgon: "Alas, he died in vain!"

Voronwë: "He was determined to go, Lord; do no take it upon yourself!"

Turgon: "He followed my rash command..." 

Voronwë: "One given for the best of reasons, to seek forgiveness and aid from the Great Ones; please Lord do not doubt that or else our great loss would truly then have been in vain!"

Turgon: "Thank you, Dear Friend; tell me of the survivors!"

Voronwë: "They were in a serious state but in good hands; the healers told us what had been uttered in their sickness and this corresponded to how we found them, no secrets were revealed!"

Turgon: "That is something at least..." 

Voronwë: "All that were saved survived but some are unable to travel far through lasting injury whilst many others expressed a wish to remain in the Havens; this is why so few have returned..." 

Turgon: "I see, and suppose the incursions of Morgoth also kept you at bay?"

Voronwë: "Not entirely, although I must confess that my time at the Falas was a happy one and in all probability we lingered longer than we ought; however, we were not idle there and learnt much in the craft of building ships, for myself I gained a deep understanding with Cirdan... he is truly among the Great!  Ah yes, on our departure he gave me this..."

[He produces a sealed note and hands it to Turgon ...]

TURGON, SON OF FINGOLFIN, FORMER LORD OF NEVRAST,

THE FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN YOUR REALM AND MINE PREVAILED FOR ONE HUNDRED YEARS AND MORE WHEN DURING THAT TIME THE WESTERN COASTS FROM DRENGIST TO CAPE BALAR WERE UTTERLY UNASSAILABLE, IT IS IN THIS SPIRIT THAT I SEND THIS MISSIVE NOW!  I AM SURE THAT WHEN YOU READ THIS YOU WILL HAVE ALREADY BEEN APPRAISED OF WHAT HAS RECENTLY PASSED TWIXT YOUR FOLK AND MINE SO I SHALL LEAVE THAT FOR OTHERS TO CONVEY; WHAT I WRITE NOW IS FROM ONE GOVERNOR OF PEOPLE TO ANOTHER. 

PLEASE BELIEVE THAT NONE OF YOUR SECRETS HAVE BEEN REVEALED TO ME OR ANY OTHER IN MY HAVENS, AND THAT NONE WILL BE DEMANDED BY THOSE THAT HAVE CHOSEN TO REMAIN HERE.  HOWEVER, GIVEN THE CIRCUMSTANCES IN WHICH WE CAME BY YOUR FOLK, AND THESE STRAITENED TIMES, IT IS NOT DIFFICULT TO GUESS NEAR AT WHAT YOU WERE ATTEMPTING.  IN THIS MATTER I AM ILL EQUIPPED TO PASS JUDGEMENT AND WILL NOT DO SO; ALTHOUGH, SHOULD YOUR PEOPLE ENDEAVOUR TO SET FORTH INTO THE WEST AGAIN IN THIS I WOULD SEEK TO DISSUADE YOU SINCE I BELIEVE THAT SUCH A MISSION COULD NOT BE ACCOMPLISHED.  STILL, IF IN THE FUTURE YOUR MIND IS SET UPON THIS ACTION AGAIN I WOULD URGE YOU TO SEEK MY AID IN THIS MATTER; INDEED I SHALL LOOK TO IT AND DEVELOP HARDIER SHIPS THAT MIGHT WITHSTAND LONGER VOYAGES THAN I AM APT TO UNDERTAKE MYSELF, ALTHOUGH I SINCERELY HOPE THAT THEIR PRODUCTION WILL NOT BE NECESSARY. 

IN TOKEN OF THE LONGSTANDING ALLIANCE BETWEEN US,

CIRDAN.

[Turgon digests the letter and calls the briefing to a close...]       

Voice of Thorondor: "Thus it was that once again Morgoth had not fully reckoned the strength of the alliance between Elves and Men when hard pressed, and his planned invasion of Beleriand by way of the Pass of Sirion did not succeed as he hoped.  And He in his darkest thought could not ever conceive of what had been set in motion by his strongest opponent in Endórë, Ulmo, the Lord of Waters; for not even those that he had chosen as his instruments we aware of it..."