Loyalty: A Tale in Three Voices by grey_gazania

Part I, Chapter IV (Caranthir)

FA 463

To Maedhros Feanorion head of the House of Feanor, lord of Himring greetings from your brother Caranthir, lord of Thargelion.

I’ve had a recent influx of Men from the East in these lands. They’re an odd lot, dark-skinned and black-eyed, but we’ve spoken, after a fashion, and they don’t seem hostile. (Their language is strange, but a few of them have a little Sindarin, and some of the Naugrim speak their tongue and have been willing to translate for us — for a price, of course.) They seem honest enough and the Naugrim say they’ve had amicable dealings with them, but I thought you would like to speak to them yourself when time permits. Hopefully we’ll have hammered out a pidgin by the time you get here. I’m sure they’ll adopt Sindarin soon enough, though. All the other Men have.

I hope to see you soon,

Caranthir

I blew powder onto the ink to quicken its drying and then rolled the paper into a scroll, ready to be delivered by pigeon. These days the birds were more likely to reach Himring than a lone messenger, and I couldn’t spare a full company to carry one message. It wasn’t even urgent. The East-Men were here whether I wanted them or not, and forming an alliance made more sense than pushing them out into the orc-infested lands. That would only make us enemies, and I doubted that would be Maitimo’s decision anyway. He was many things — stubborn, vicious when he wanted to be, and sometimes too damn noble for his own good — but foolish had never been one of his flaws.

I'd had a trickle of Men making their way over the mountains in the past few months, mostly small, scattered clans, but the group of Men who'd come via the Dwarf-Road this morning were clearly different. My guards hadn’t charged them the usual toll when they arrived – wisely, I thought, because there were several thousand of them and I suspect they would have rioted on the spot. Quashing a Mannish revolt didn't seem like a good use of time or resources.

Their leaders sought audience with me through one of the Naugrim, a man called Nâr. He offered to translate for us, and I had no choice but to take him up on it; none of the Men spoke fluent Sindarin. I didn’t know what the East-Men were paying him for his services, but the fee he was charging me was frankly exorbitant. Nâr was ugly, but he wasn’t stupid; I needed him and he knew it, damn him.

Five of them came to my hall for the meeting. I received them in full court regalia, ready to play the part of the great lord; I wanted to make it clear who was in charge here. Watching them enter, I saw that they resembled Haleth’s people more than the other Edain, being sturdy and short — not as short as the Naugrim, of course, but I don’t think even one of them neared six feet. I felt no hostility itching against my skin, but they were watching me with wariness in their dark eyes. They made the odd gesture that seemed to function as a bow among their people, all joined fists and lowered heads. Nâr said something incomprehensible, and one of the men stepped forward.

“Well met,” he said, his words thickly accented. He bore a great, bushy beard, streaked with grey to match the age lines in his face, but his broad shoulders made it plain that he was not yet in his dotage. A second man stood beside him, younger and with sharper features, but still clearly kin.

Nâr spoke. “This is Ulfang, leader of the Rikíshim, and his son Uldor. And this,” he said, gesturing to one of the other men, younger and freckled, “is Bór, leader of the Naríkishim, with his son Borlad.”

They bowed again. “I am Lord Caranthir,” I said, inclining my head in return. “I rule these lands. I would like to know, what are your intentions in coming here?”

I waited for Nâr to translate, noticing out of the corner of my eye that the fifth of the Men, a bright-eyed adolescent girl whom Nâr had not introduced — a servant, maybe? — was mouthing some of the Sindarin words, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Ulfang spoke in response. It seemed that he and Bór sought leave for their people to dwell in Thargelion, as their own lands to the East had been ravaged by weather and disease. They would swear fealty to me and support our war against Morgoth, if we would only grant them a place to farm and herd. Not an unreasonable request, I thought.

“I must think on this further,” I told them after a show of deliberation. Really what I needed to do was send messages to Maitimo and Findekáno. It was true that we ruled ourselves mostly, my brothers and I, but in this matter we would need to play the loyal subjects and bend the knee to our king. I doubted he would refuse their request, either; he had his own allies among Men.

I had seen the valor of their race in Haleth and her people. Odd Bór and Ulfang might be, but I saw no reason to turn them away.