Of Anbor And Azruphel by gamil-zirak

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Crystal Height

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Crystal Height

OF ANBOR AND AZRUPHEL

Chapter Two...
"Crystal Height"

Uthruda opened her eyes and for a moment of rising panic, thought she had gone blind. But gradually her sight returned through a fog of darkness that dissolved into a miserable sight of clarity. She lay inside a boat crammed with many recognisable faces, all of whose expressions were of fear and sadness and the blank stares of despair. She winced at the throbbing pain that assailed her and raised a hand to the side of her head. A clatter of metal made her pause, and she realised that her wrists were clasped by thick manacles whose heavy chains were linked to the bands about her ankles. She felt firm hands grasp her shoulders and looked up fearfully to be greeted by a face she dearly knew. It was her brother. "Uthruda, you awaken!" he said, clasping her close. "My heart rejoices as I thought you were beyond all hope."

She put a hand to her aching head and brought her open palm before her eyes. It was stained with streaks of blood. "Uthrudul, what happened?" she asked.

"Do you not remember?" he grimly replied.

"I remember tilling in our fields. Uthrawen was with me as was Uthragul. Then suddenly our sister was screaming. "The Hunters are come! Flee the Urzubul!" I tried to escape, flying in the direction of our village but the Urzubul had encircled us from afar, closing in on their prey like stalking beasts that creep low amid the tall grass. I ran unwittingly into the waiting arms of one and fought him with all my strength as I tried to release myself from his crushing embrace, but to no avail. I then bit his vice-like arm and earned a blow to my head that knocked me senseless. And so I awaken."

"Then you remember enough," said Uthrudul, "for there is little else to tell. We heard the "Horn of Warning" echoing in the fields and gathered all the able men of our village. Swiftly we raced to the aid of our captured folk only to be ambushed and overwhelmed. Those of us who were not slain were rounded up and led to the river where we were forced into the boats."

"And what of Uthragul and Uthrawen?" asked Uthruda. "Did they escape?"

Uthrudul sighed. "No. Our brother and sister are languishing in the boat behind us."

"And what of mother and father?"

Uthrudul could only shrug his shoulders. Uthruda hauled herself up to sit, gently assisted by her brother, and replaced her palm over her throbbing head wound. Uthrudul put a reassuring arm about her shoulders and drew her close. After a brief comforting silence she turned her eyes to their miserable companions that sat with them. There was Golfin, Gabraghal, Borgim and Hunathragir, all young men of her village. And weeping softly together in a corner were the sisters Anthren, Anthred and Anthrel who were her friends. And old Ragnabor sat in silence beside his glowering son Ragnabul, the Headman of the Council. Many others of her village sat about her as dejected men and women, all encumbered in fetters and headed towards a dreaded end. "What do you think the Urzubul will do to us?" asked Uthruda fearfully.

"Rest sister," he said. "Do not burden yourself with questions."

But Gabraghal overheard them and raised his head. "Why do you comfort her Uthrudul?" he said. His glistening eyes held rising tears that belied his stoic expression. "She knows as do we all of our miserable fate! We have been captured by the Demons of the Sea and soon they shall drink our blood and set fire to our flesh in evil offerings to their God of Darkness. There is no hope left for us!"

"Aye!" said Hunathragir. "Yet the fault of our capture lies with Ragnabul and the Council. Did they not ignore our pleas to distance ourselves from the river and resettle our village nearer to the mountains of Arbul?"

Ragnabul shot him a perilous glance. "Hold your tongue boy!" he returned. "What would you know of the counsels of your elders. Our village lay far enough from the perils of the Urzubul, as we reckoned. And we still believed in the protection of the Ancestors. Besides, the lands about the Arbul are in turmoil as the other tribes that settled there war with each other in their efforts to live off the meagre land. Would you have had the courage to defend your people against our marauding neighbours had we moved there? Hardly have I seen you pick up an axe or raise a club, or noted within you the warriors heart that would serve our people well in defence. Were you even present at the muster or were you caught scampering away in fearful flight, only to be netted as a deedless coward?!" Hunathragir's face contorted with rage at his words and his chained body tensed for a spring. But suddenly his quivering posture faltered and tears sprung from his wavering eyes. He bowed his head and wept softly in despair. Ragnabul's eyes softened and he shook his head in sorrow and turned aside. He did not mean to wither the young man, yet his own despair had forced him to lash out. But the boy's accusing words held some truth as he felt he had failed his people and they would now pay for his errors in judgement with their lives.

Yet he felt a soft hand upon his shoulder and turned to the age-worn face of his father. "Do not blame yourself my son," were the old man's words. "For what fault could an innocent people be accused of who are beset by the evils of a grave injustice." The old man turned his grey head to the others who sat there. "All we have ever done is live at peace with the world around us. We till the land, hunt and forage for food, love our wives and beget our children, and give thanks to our ancestors of old. War-like we are not, save to defend our livelihood from other tribes who would hinder our peace. Yet if the way of our simple life deserves the evil fate that now besets us, then strange indeed are the ways of our ancestors and gods! But I will not abandon hope! Nay, not even in the throes of death from the greedy flames of the Urzubul! For even then I shall pray to our forebears, and with my final breath plead that justice should find the Demons of the Sea after my burnt body wafts away in the ash ridden vapours of their black temples!"

A harsh shout sounded from the stern of the boat and a tall man strode forward, kicking aside the legs of the chained that crossed his path. "Cease your grunting you apes!" he cried in a tongue they did not understand. "Or I'll send you to the Dark before your time!" He whipped out a long knife that shone greedily in the early sunlight. Uthruda and her kin all bowed their heads fearfully before his fierce eyes. "Good!" he said. "And don't think of planning to escape as I've ways of dealing with runaways that would make even your muddy minds cloud over in terror, and bring you to heel good and proper!" He gave them all the evil eye until his dark sight came to rest upon Uthruda. "Ah! So the wild imp has arisen at last. Did you sleep well my young apeling? Luckily for you we had to move swiftly or I'll have repaid you with more than just a blow to the head!" His leering eyes went to her thighs and rose to linger a little higher. Uthrudul stirred as he noted the man's lustful stare and guessed at his words but Uthruda tightened her grip upon him in her terror. However, the man raised his arm to glare accusingly at the band of cloth tied about it. He spat into the river and turned away.

Uthruda began to tremble. She looked up and saw tall alder branches waving their shadowy leaves over the water. The sun shone as it always had on a summer's morning, glistening upon the river's surface, tinging the tree leaves with gold, brightening the blue sky and warming the heart with a coddling breeze. Yet the beloved traits of the warm season that she had long taken for granted now held nothing for her. Nothing except a rising dread. For she was held against her will upon a dark path that led to a searing end of pain and death, forcing her to leave behind the joys of the riding sun and creeping moon; the wonders of the open sky and teeming forests; the warm familiarities of tilled fields and her quaint village; the hearty embraces of family and dear friends; everything she knew and loved. Uthruda turned her frightened eyes to her brother who looked down at her. "It will be all right sister," he whispered. But she knew that was a lie. With that despairing thought, she buried her head in her brother's chest and wept.

~oOo~ The boats lay moored beside a riverside landing whose wooden planks creaked under the heavy tread of the slavers who carried their gear to the bank. The alders grew thickly here, with their rustling leaves forming a shadowy canopy under which a well worn path led away from the river to a small clearing. A long shed was built there and a gloom ridden cottage lay behind it, at the very edge of the encircling trees. A narrow track for carts and horses led westward from the clearing, plunging into the thick undergrowth of the forest about it. The sun shone upon the cheerless glade, whose worn grasses grew in ragged tufts amid the dusty earth. The shed was roughly made and ill maintained, with broken windows and badly laid brickwork. Many armed men stood or lay about it, warming themselves in the morning sun. A few milled about inside the shed, where all manner of slavers tools either hung upon filthy walls or lay upon grime ridden tables. Chains, racks, collars, leashes, cages and much more cluttered the scenery. Before the shed's wooden doors were two horse drawn carts packed with cages of thick iron bars, and confined within them were all the captured wild men and women. A proud white horse was tethered to a pole by the cottage, patiently awaiting its master who was within.
The slave master sat at ease inside the shabby house with a flagon of wine in his hand. A tall young man stood before him. He was fair of face and hair which flowed with smooth ease to his shoulders. His attire spoke of wealth and complimented his airs that held an attitude of importance. A young woman carrying a wooden tray with a pitcher of wine and a flagon rose from where she knelt, having just presented her master his drink. She went to the tall man and knelt before him with the tray raised high above her bowed head. The man gave a curt shake of his head, yet she maintained her posture of offering. The slave master looked at her with irritation and placed a foot upon her shoulder and roughly thrust her to the floor. She lay where she had fallen, trembling in fear amid the clatter of woodenware and spilt wine. "Clean up your mess and get out, you mindless imp!" he growled. She rose to her knees and replaced the flagon and pitcher onto the tray. She then used her tunic to wipe the wine from the floor and was swiftly out the door. "These wild things are good for nothing, save to feed the ritual fires." said the slave master. "They're lazy workers and aren't even good for the bed as they lie with all the passion of a corpse!"

The tall man gave the slave master an unsavoury glance. "Spare me the details of your nightly pleasures with the wild folk Ugruben," he said with distaste. "Come, let us conclude our business." He produced a heavy pouch and tossed it into Ugruben's waiting hand.

The slave master weighed it in his palm and smiled. "Why thank 'ee, master Abrazan," he said. "I'll not count it as I'm sure it's all there."

"It is," said Abrazan, "and there is more."

"More?"

"You did exceed the amount I had hoped for."

"Truly so. Fifteen requested and twenty three delivered."

"And so you have my gratitude."

"And may I ask what these slaves are for. The Felling Fields, the Estates or the Fires?"

The young man looked sternly at the slave master as he thought to rebuke him for his delving questions. Yet what harm would come of it if he told him. "I mean to send them to lord Zigurben."

"What?" said Ugruben in surprise. "This bounty is for our Lord Priest?"

"Indeed," Abrazan replied. "Few know of this, but lord Zigurben plans to hold a grand ceremony to honour the Dark One and pray for his guidance and blessings in the conquest to come. I aim to surprise our Lord Priest with this gift of slaves that would sate the numerous rituals that are bound to take place."

"And so gain his favour no doubt."

"It is to be hoped."

"Well," said the slave master, "I wish you well in your endeavour. Twenty three slaves would be a respectable gift, especially in these lean times. The wild folk move ever further inland and are harder to find. They've grown fiercer too."

"So I see," said Abrazan, gesturing to Ugruben's bound arm. "It must have been quite a duel that gave you your wound."

Ugruben stared at him with narrowed eyes but Abrazan laughed and made for the door. There he paused and turned back to the slave master. "A word of advice," he said. "If I were you I would begin to cumulate the merchandise."

"And why would I do that?" asked Ugruben as he belched.

"Word has it that the Numenorean fleet is nearing completion. When that day comes there shall be a royal call for a host of slaves to man the ships. I foresee you becoming a very rich man...should you handle your business wisely."

"With you at the helm of the arrangements no doubt," said Ugruben.

"With my connections and influence! I would do the negotiating and you..."

"The capturing," the slave master drily cut in.

"Think Ugruben," said Abrazan. "Ar-Pharazon would send a host of soldiers to do the work of emptying all the coastal lands and beyond of their wild denizens without a thought for the slave masters who now ply their trade. Align yourself with me and you will be guaranteed a fair portion of the brisk business that is bound to arise in the coming months."

Ugruben looked at the young man with a discerning eye. He was an ambitious little lordling but he was assured and clever; a winning combination to success. Perhaps he would trust him in this. Ugruben took a swig of his wine. "I'd have time to think about your proposal." He did not want to give the proud young man the satisfaction of his eagerness.

But Abrazan smiled knowingly and gave him a mock bow. "As you wish master," he returned. "But do not take too long as there are others of less wit with whom I would do business!" Without waiting to see Ugruben's scowl, he exited the cottage and strode to his tethered horse. "Sakalben, Abrathor!" he cried to the drivers of the laden carts as he leapt upon his saddle. "Set forth for home at once!"

A click of his tongue set his horse to canter forward and he glanced casually at the human booty that languished in his carts. The slaves either knelt or squatted within their crowded prisons. Some clutched at the iron bars, staring at him with the wide vacant eyes of despair, while others were sobbing as they held their bowed heads in trembling hands. Abrazan turned away from their misery with ease. It was a picture he had seen many times before and was much used to it. Yet the wild men were beneath his pity and concern. They were necessities that enhanced the Numenorean way of life...akin to livestock. Yet far more importantly they were currency...the currency of favour and wealth that would usurp all notions of conscience. Slavery to the Numenoreans was not cruelty, but a necessary right. "You do not ride with us master?" asked Abrathor, as Abrazan cantered to his side.

"Nay," he replied. "I shall go on before you. Or do you forget that dear guests are due to arrive today. I am overly late as it is. Therefore I shall see you at Crystal Height." With that he sped away, passing through the trees in a cloud of dust and fluttering leaves.

~oOo~ The longboat heaved forward and settled, riding the silvery waters to the straining arms of the eight sailors who manned the oars and drew the vessel towards the shore. Azruphel looked back at the Rothgimil that had been her home for almost two months. The ship had dropped anchor and now languished upon the placid waters of a wide sheltered bay. Her golden sails were down, revealing stark evidence of her tall bare masts and complex rigging. Azruphel could see the tiny figures of the sailors who remained behind to attend to the ship. She and her mother were being ferried over the final part of their voyage before the Rothgimil set sail again for the southerly coasts to pick up cargo from other ports. Both ladies sat in the longboat alongside their maidens Aduninzil and Uripher, with Captain Balakan overseeing the men at the oars with a discerning eye from where he sat at the stern. Azruphel thought of Balkazir the boatswain who had stayed aboard the ship to oversee the crew, and smiled to herself at the fond memories of their friendship. She had hoped to see him again upon the shore where she thought to tease him about the solid ground wounding his feet, but his voyaging was not yet ended. He would be far away by days end and she did not know if she would ever see him again. The thought saddened her but she was glad to have met him, and grateful for the newfound reverence he had imparted for the mysteries and wonders of the sea. But that part of her journey was over and she were now drawn by strong rowing hands to another mysterious realm of which she knew little. The lands before her looked familiar enough, being of yellow sands, waving trees and rising hills. Yet all seemed of another world, with rolling beaches yet to be trodden, and rustling trees whose kinds she had never seen, and tall summits yet to be surmounted. She felt as a meek stranger from a small isle who now approached the threshold of a vast new realm that was beyond her comprehension.

This was Middle-earth, the mammoth continent; a land of which the Numenoreans knew so little, yet of which they claimed to own so much. For Ar-Pharazon professed to being its lord and his people took all that they would from it. They had settled upon its fertile lands, plundered its deep riches and gained dominion over its cowering peoples. But the Numenoreans had only conquered the tips of its western coasts as they would not settle far from the sea. Yet there were a few who ventured deep into Middle-earth's mysterious interior and fewer still who ever came back. Then those who returned would relate strange tales to those who would listen, recounting visions of vast deserts of endless dune ridden sands and dark untamed forests under whose thick canopies the sun's light was diminished. They spoke of long meandering rivers whose winding courses begat thundering waterfalls and perilous rapids as they coiled through deep shadowy valleys. They described towering mountains as seen from afar, whose jagged icy crowns were hidden in the wispy folds of lofty grey clouds, and told of wide inland seas whose boatless waters stretched before the eye to stranger shores. And in the telling they would raise their flagon to salute the king's power, commending the striking vastness of his conquered domain. Yet their hands would tremble at the toast and their wine would spill over the rim. And when asked what fearful thought would have them quake in the midst of friends, they would speak of the denizens of the dark inner lands; the savage tribes that hunted the Numenorean explorers like beasts. "But why do you quail at the thought of the wild men whom we use as our slaves and offerings?!" would be the defiant yell of one in the crowd. "What should we fear from those helpless whelps!"

"The wild men I speak of are not of our bounds," the storyteller would reply. "Nay, they are not of the timid kind whom we have enslaved with ease. These are of a different sort who are bold and fierce, and organised in battle. Heed me when I say that we have but conquered this vast land in name only, for there are tribes in their multitudes that you know nothing of. Yet they know of our people and they hate us, being schooled no doubt by the vengeful wild men who are under our yoke. Therefore hear me when I say the power of Anadune shall soon be put to the test. For the wild men are coming!"

Then the gathered crowd would grow silent under a descending cloud of doubt. But the storyteller would drink to the health of the king and the enduring power of Numenor and make his exit, leaving his disquietened audience to their troubled thoughts. Yet such stories were few and far between, and the people of the coasts would soon forget their warnings until another gaunt traveller appeared to them, imparting the same dire warning to those who would listen. But Azruphel knew nothing of such evil portents as she looked to Middle-earth's approaching shores with rising excitement. There was nothing ominous about the lands she saw before her. She beheld the welcoming sight of a sheltered bay whose tapering out-thrust arms were covered by waving palm trees that grew upon bright yellow sands. To the shore, the bay carved itself into a shallow valley that was nestled between the sloping arms of a tall hill whose rise was densely covered in trees. Upon its summit stood a great white pillar with a globe of light at its top that shone brightly with a piercing light in the mid-morning sun. High shoulders stretched away from the hill to the north and south of it, and the ridge bordered the coastal line for as far as the eye could see in both directions. The golden beach receded from the lapping waves, losing its sheen to the stony shingles and hard rock of the mainland. Upon the easy slopes of the ridge to the south were many houses of white stone, built in pleasant rows upon the terraces, and at the foot of the valley was a small port that held a flurry of bustling activity. The longboat was now in clear sight of the shore and Azruphel could see those who awaited their arrival upon the quay. Her heart fluttered with anticipation as she clearly saw the one person she had missed the most. He stood before the rest, with a hand to his brow and a smile upon his face. Azruphel turned swiftly to her mother. "I can see him!" she exclaimed. "I can see father awaiting us! There he is, shading his eyes in his effort to see our approach. Oh how he smiles!"

Naruphel leaned aside to better see the nearing quay. Indeed, there was Azulzir, stood precariously upon the very edge of the landing. She shook her head in vague annoyance at his ardency, yet a faint smile rose to belie her displeasure. For all her disapprovals, she realised then how much she truly missed him. And yet is that not why she and Azruphel were here? She had lived without her husband for ten long years. At first, she had dwelt alone with proud independence, yet that had turned into bitter resentment as the years went by. But at last her heart's desire could not be denied as her yearning for him became unbearable. Furthermore she needed a time of respite, away from the ever mounting complications of life that Numenor now presented. "Fool of a man," she said drily, to hide her own rising anticipation. "If he leans any farther he will fall into the water."

Azruphel, who had made her way to the bow, turned back. "Oh come mother," she called. "I know you have missed him as much as I have. You cannot hide the joy in your eyes."

Naruphel shook her head. "Foolishness child," she returned with an undeniable smile.

Soon the boat was within earshot and Azulzir raised a hand and waved. "Truly blessed is this day!" he called. "To think that my two most precious jewels have been brought safely over the vast leagues of the sea to grace my sights again! May Belegaer be praised for his leniency!"

"And praise the captain, father!" called Azruphel. "As our smooth passage was only assured under his watchful guidance."

"Truly am I indebted to you Balakan." Azulzir returned.

"Your praise is undeserved, my lord!" cried the captain. "For in boldness I would tell the truth and have it known that the very sea becalmed itself in reverence, so as to allow two of Anadune's finest women cross over its domain in peace."

"I see the company of these noble ladies has somewhat sweetened your tongue Balakan," laughed Azulzir. "Yet you speak truly as I reckon the very waters parted before the prow in deference to their beauty."

But Naruphel raised a brow, "I know nothing of parting waters," she called. "The sea went flat when I told it to. I did not think to ask for more!"

There was laughter upon the boat and on the quay as the vessel reached its berth. Azulzir gave his daughter his hand and aided her to the landing. There he drew her into his arms and held her close. "My dearest Azruphel," he said softly, caressing her long pliant hair. Azruphel clung to her father, resting her head upon his shoulder. She could not believe that she now stood within his warm embrace and could feel his reassuring presence. That she now heard his familiar voice and could see the undeniable features of his face. How she had wished for this! She tried to speak, yet could only mutter a few words which she did not understand in her intense delight. Their meaning only became apparent with her father's answer. "And I have missed you too, my dear child," he replied.

Azulzir then turned to the boat and gently released his daughter. He put out a hand and took hold of his wife and aided her to his side. There they looked upon one another with warm smiles and intimate joy in their glowing eyes. Azruphel stood aside, tearfully witnessing her father and mother's reunion. Her father tenderly caressed her mother's cheek and Naruphel shyly lowered her eyes and bowed her head. Azruphel knew that the past ten years had visibly hardened her mother, yet to see her respond to the affections of her father with maiden-like innocence spoke volumes about her depth of feelings for him. She realised then that there was more to her mother than was to be thought. "And so you have finally come," said Azulzir. "Long have I awaited this day."

Naruphel gazed at him with softened eyes as she studied his face. "The years have done nothing but age you," she remarked.

Azulzir laughed, as did those who stood nearby. "And yet you look younger than ever!" he replied. "How are you possible?"

Naruphel's lips rose to a gentle smile. "However, your tongue has lost none of its charm I see," she returned.

"Then I am relieved," said Azulzir, "since it is plain I have lost my looks to age in your eyes. I would have at least one trait that still seems good to you."

"You have lost nothing in my eyes," said Naruphel, to the waning of her grin. "For the lines upon your face are not of cares and concerns. Rather they suggest the qualities of joy and content." She traced the creases about his eyes with a gentle finger. "You have laughed much since I last saw you," she said softly. "Life in Middle-earth has clearly been kind to you."

Azulzir looked deep into Naruphel's grey eyes and saw that much was hidden behind their soft glance. There were unknown trials to be read, as well as a deep sadness and something more. Azulzir's own smile faded for an instant as he realised that all were not well with his wife. But now was not the time for a show of concern, not while others stood by who were there to welcome his family. There would be time enough to talk. He swiftly returned his smile to its place and looked to the gathering. "Do you see?" he said to them in jest. "Your laughter was misplaced as the lady's remark was well meant. For to her I have aged like a mature wine, and am now full of richness and flavour for her palate's taste. She discerns no doubt the joy and content that is prevalent in the hinterlands, and such is a gracious testament to the bliss we have created for ourselves. Therefore, I would ask for your warm hospitality to be extended to my wife and daughter throughout their stay with us." The gathering smiled as one and bowed low in their assent.

"But where is Abrazan, father?" asked Azruphel as her quick eyes darted among the strangers that stood there. "Surely he came to welcome us."

Naruphel also turned to the gathering, searching for her son but Azulzir's face darkened and he turned his gaze eastward to the slopes of the great ridge and beyond. She looked at him with rising concern. "Azulzir?" He turned back to her but could only reply with a pale smile. "What do you fear to tell us?" she questioned with growing agitation.

Azruphel stepped towards her father, mirroring her mother's anxious mood. "What has happened to my brother?" she demanded. "Why has he not come to meet us?"

But Azulzir broadened his smile in an effort to reassure them. "He is out on an errand of his own," he said. "But he is late and shall incur my wrath upon his return as he gave his word that he would be here to welcome you." The two ladies set aside their conjured fears with sighs of relief. Yet they were nonetheless disappointed at Abrazan's absence, and Azruphel marked her father's troubled look that betrayed more than plain annoyance at his son's truancy. "But come!" said Azulzir. "Let me present you both to those who were gracious enough to welcome you, on time." A flurry of introductions, handshakes, bows, curtsies and salutations followed. They were received by people of apparent importance, all of whom either worked for her father's estate or worked within the port. Finally Azulzir brought them before a tall man of fair hair and a noble and kindly face. "And this is Zadnazir," he said. "He is the head of my household and oversee's the affairs of the estate."

The man bowed before them. "It is my pleasure to welcome you to Crystal Height."

Azruphel looked up to the tall tree clad rise and the shining pillar at its summit. "I should very much like to climb the hill and see its lighting crystal up close."

"That can certainly be arranged, my lady," said Zadnazir. "Indeed the view from up there is a sight to behold as one can espy the fruits of your father's labour in their entirety."

"There shall be time enough for sightseeing," said her father. "But first I would bring you home to rest after your long voyage." With that, he took the hands of his wife and daughter and the party left the quay. They skirted the port to their left and made their way across the golden sands towards the terraced housings that looked to the sea. Soon their feet trod upon the smooth grey shingles that led up to a wide road of paved stone that came up from the south, following the line of the coast. Heavily laden carts and wains drove up and down its path, yet more came from the south, heading for the port. Upon either side of the road were broad riding tracks with few horsemen going about their business. An elaborately decorated and gilded carriage designed for comfort and elegance awaited them by the paved road. There Azulzir thanked his companions for coming to welcome his family and after many invitations and farewells, the party dispersed. The ladies and their maidens entered the carriage and awaited Azulzir as he spoke with Balakan.

"Master, permit me a swift visit home as I would see my wife before I return to the ship." said the captain.

"Do as you will Balakan," replied Azulzir. "But the Rothgimil will not head out today as planned. A feast shall be held tonight in honour of my family's homecoming. Therefore send for the men that remain on the ship as all are invited to our merry-making." Balakan bowed low. Azulzir entered the carriage and turned to the captain. "And tell them they are to receive a generous bonus for the work they have done. Thus shall you all know of my gratitude."

"I thank you master," said Balakan in parting.

The carriage began to trundle forward, going northward. The road rose, mounting the slopes of the ridge and passing high above the port that was nestled below to the left. The highway then turned east beneath the crest of the sloping arm of the hill and surmounted the high shoulder of the southern ridge. Azruphel gazed at the treeclad upper half of the hill that rose to their left. There grew tall white oaks with waving rounded crowns, and fine maples that coloured the hill with green and gold. Shrubs grew here and there in brightly coloured clusters while butterflies and hummingbirds hovered and flitted in the airs. "Nature has a sense of archaic beauty in these lands," said Azruphel. "Simple yet mesmerising. It is so unlike Numenor whose beauty is sharply tangible, as if our meadows and forests were purposely planted by the gods to please the eye. But here everything is wild and natural in its effortless beauty, and speaks more to the heart than to sight."

Azulzir smiled. "You discern well," he said. "For that is true enough." The carriage now descended, rolling towards the vast inner lands that stood behind the wall of the ridge. "Come daughter," said Azulzir. "Behold your home!" Azruphel moved over to the opposite window that looked southward and gasped in wonder. A mighty dwelling that was nestled at the foot of the ridge now passed into view. Its walls shone with a white tint and its numerous roofs were of low-pitched tiles. Shapely archways ordained entrance points and lovely balconies all flower laden, gave exquisite viewpoints from the second and third floors. Decorative iron window grilles and entire window walls gave sight from within to lush gardens, grand patios and shimmering fountains. Even from the highway Azruphel could discern the grand homely comfort of the house. The gardens were no less breathtaking. There stood orange and lemon trees dripping with fruit, and silvery olive trees dancing in the wind alongside evergreen ash and jacaranda's in full bloom. Many shrubs peppered the green lawns such as oleander, gardenias and night scented jasmine. Arbors formed pleasant shaded walkways upon which ornamental and fruiting grapes were trained. Three large pools of sparkling water with sprouting fountains graced the lawn near the main threshold of the mansion. Azruphel turned her stare to her mother who mirrored her awe. Azulzir laughed softly at their wonder. The carriage came to a halt by the great gates of the homestead. "Welcome home," he said to them. "Welcome to Crystal Height!"

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Author's Commentary:

Nothing to say about this chapter except I hope you all enjoyed it!

Thanx!!