Himling Isle by Himring

Chapter 1

The first chapter was written as a drabble sequence for the prompts of the Coastal Challenge at Tolkien Weekly on LiveJournal (see further details in the End Notes).

According to MS Word, 6 x 100 words.

Although Maglor now spent his life by the sea, he stayed away from all ships. But after the Fall of Numenor, great tidal waves fell on the shore and, unexpectedly, Maglor found himself again in a boat that did not belong to him, rowing for his life. He wondered whether Osse was after him to punish him for his crimes. Then he had to rescue three hens from a floating henhouse and was distracted. When Maglor’s boat reached safety, it also contained a young Avar, an old woman and a fox.

He did not mind boats so much after that.

He did not know that the top of Himring Hill had re-emerged above the waves. When he did learn, much later, overhearing a conversation between fishermen, at first nothing could have induced him to visit it. But, as he became aware of the swift wearing of time in Middle-earth and he himself went on surviving, despite much foolish carelessness, it occurred to him that in time the island of Himling, too, might be lost again. He would regret not having gone then.

So he provisioned a boat and set out, looking to see tall cliffs looming against the western sky.

The island was lower than he expected and bare. Only sea birds could call this rock home now. He heard their voices on the wind, as if raised in mockery, and almost turned around without setting foot on shore but, coming closer, he found a bay and a safe place to land.

He wandered aimlessly about, squawked at by gulls, and finally plunged into the sea, a dangerous dive among tossing waters. When he came up again, he held a piece of pottery in his fingers, long broken, its edges washed round like a pebble. It was then he wept.

He knew he would have to leave soon. Already it was getting colder; he doubted even he could survive winter on Himling. But he lingered, supplementing his provisions with shellfish, and went on diving, bringing up fragments of a past life, as if he could piece himself together again if he had enough parts of the puzzle.

He had forgotten to keep watch. Digging for clams, he looked up and a movement on the horizon caught his eye. A black sail! He dropped his spade. Corsairs! He knew them from travels in the South, but what were they doing here? 

His boat was well concealed. He succeeded in removing visible traces of his presence, but his retreat was cut off as the Corsairs’ ship approached. He hid in a crevice, pressed hard against the rock face—and in that moment of danger felt, as he had not before, that Himring knew him still and was aiding him as he tried to fade into stone.

The immediate intention of the Corsairs was soon clear. Their landing party carried casks and buckets and one thing still plentiful on Himling was fresh water.

But what was this? A body dumped on the sand?

The Corsairs departed, sailing southwards. Maglor was concerned for the safety of Lindon's coast—but more urgently for that unmoving body left on the sands. He emerged from his hiding-place in the rock to investigate.

It was a girl. Almond-shaped eyes, tight shut, broad nose, shell ornaments on the hem of her seal-skin jacket—clearly, one of the Lossoth. And she was not dead—but very ill indeed, running a high fever.

Cirdan would surely watch out for Lindon. Maglor mustered what he could of healing skills to alleviate his patient's symptoms and waited to see whether she would live.

‘The ship,’ she said, in strongly accented Westron, when she was strong enough again to speak and answer his cautious questions. ‘They said they came to trade for furs—but in truth they came to raid. They took the furs. They also took—people. I, they said, was a prize, a woman able to speak Westron—a rare gift for their great chief. But when I fell ill, they began to fear I would spread the disease...’

She fell silent, studying her unexpected saviour.

'What will you do now?' she asked, warily.

'Do?' Maglor echoed. 'I will take you home.'

Chapter End Notes

Individual drabble titles and prompts:

Back in a boat - Wave

Voyage to Himling - Islands erode and so do attitudes - Cliff

Voyage to Himling - Noldorin Pottery, Beleriandic Period, Eastern Style, Type 2c - Pebble

Sail on the Horizon - Bucket and/or Spade

Snow Person - Shell, Ship

[ETA: Apologies if anyone finds the "almond-shaped" eyes offensive. The idea is that Maglor is comparing this unconscious stranger to descriptions that he has heard to work out where she might hail from; those descriptions are not free of stereotypes]