A Sense of History: Straight Road
The next in a series of articles about ships passing to and from the West, Simon uses "The Fall of Númenor" to attempt to arrive at Tolkien's reading of the exordium to "Beowulf."
"Sweetheart, show my parents what you're working on." Nerdanel gazed at her husband with pride.
Fëanor pulled a small glass orb from a pouch at his belt and handed it to Mahtan. It fit neatly in his palm. It was heavier than expected, and as far as Mahtan could tell, the dark-colored glass was opaque and featureless. "It's not finished, but I built a scale model to try out the concept."
The orb grew uncomfortably warm in Mahtan's hand. Its center swirled with what looked like wisps of purple smoke. It cleared to reveal tall stalks of delphinium covered with blue and purple flowers. A honeybee landed on one, and it bobbed beneath its weight.
Mahtan's wife leaned over his shoulder. "That's my garden!" She clapped her hands.
"We're looking directly at it. The stone sees through walls. Try moving, and see what happens," said Fëanor.
Mahtan rotated the stone in his palm. The image didn't change.
"Try moving around it," said Fëanor.
Mahtan leaned to the right, and the image slid to the left. The orb showed chickens scratching the ground inside a woven willow fence.
"Those are my chickens!" cried his wife.
"This one doesn't have much range, but the larger ones will be able to see for miles, and will even be able to see into the past," said Fëanor.
"And the future?" asked Mahtan.
"Yes, but seeing into the future isn't very interesting. We all have free will, so there are countless versions of the future," said Fëanor.
"In a few days, I'm going to show it to some people I hope will Demonstrate their interest with gold, enough to to build a foundry large enough to make a real one.
"A few days? Won't you be able to stay out the week?" asked Mahtan.
"I'm afraid you're going to have to leave two days early. I'm meeting with someone who might agree to fund the foundry large enough to make one that can see for hundreds of miles." Fëanor looked nervous. Mahtan couldn't remember ever having seen him look nervous before.
"It's an impressive device. How does it work?" asked Mahtan.
"Well, it's like a spyglass, a spyglass that can look through walls," Fëanor spoke as if Mahtan were a child, which was sort of off-putting.
"No, I mean, what makes it work? The glass it's made from? The enchantments cast over it? The person using it?
"It's too complicated for you to understand," said his son-in-law in a condescending tone.