Strangers in a Strange Land by My blue rose

Chapter Six: Defense

“One command had been laid upon the Númenoreans, the 'Ban of the Valar': they were forbidden to sail west out of sight of their own shores or to attempt to set foot on the Undying Lands.” ~The Silmarillion, Akallabêth

6th of Víresse in the Year 3316 of the Second Age, King’s Reckoning:

“Amandil Númendilion,” Lord Námo spoke. “You are charged with breaking the Ban on the Men of Númenórë and with causing others to also violate this Ban. The penalty for such a crime is death. What have you to say in your defense?”  

“My only justification is that I have done so out of loyalty to my people, Herunya.”

“You say you have broken the Ban out of loyalty. Yet have you not betrayed your King by coming here? You say he seeks to war against us and I see in your heart that you would have us remove him from power also. Are you not also guilty of treason, Child?”

“Perhaps, Herunya,” Amânzîr admitted. “Yet I believe that all Men are endowed by the One with the rights to life and liberty. It is to secure these rights that rulers are instituted among Men. Whenever any government becomes destructive of these rights it is the duty of Men to alter or to abolish it. Prudence will dictate that governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes. And history has shown that Men are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to abolish the government to which they are accustomed.”

Amânzîr looked the Lord of Mandos in the eye. “But our first allegiance must be to the One and to his intentions of which despotism has no part. For there is but one loyalty from which no Man can be absolved in heart for any cause. I cannot keep faith with my King for my conscience is held captive by the One and to act against conscience is neither right nor safe. Here I stand. I can do no other. Ányë resta Eru.”

“Well said, Child,” Lord Námo replied softly.

“I ask no clemency be given for myself, Herunya,” Amânzîr said. “But I would implore you to have mercy on my companions. I will suffer whatever consequences you deem they deserve for the breaking of the Ban.”

“It is good that you would ask such a thing of me, Child. Yet they must be held accountable for their own crimes and each must suffer for their own actions.” The Lord of Mandos turned to look at the three Men standing outside the circle. “Come hither, Children,” he commanded. “I would fain question you before pronouncing judgment.”

Abârôn did not understand what Lord Námo had said, but he could guess when he found Avalôbêl ushering him into the Máhanaxar. The three of them made their way into the center of the Ring, where they knelt next to Lord Amânzîr. Abârôn grit his teeth in dread. He kept his eyes on the Vala’s feet and tried to focus on the cold granite beneath him. He fleetingly hoped they would kill him before he must speak to the forbidding Doomsman. The thought made him grimace. He hoped that whatever method the Valar used for execution was quick and not overly painful.

“Ëarnáron Elentirion, Amandil is your lord is he not, Child?” The Lord of Mandos asked, gazing at Azruzôr.

“Aye, Herunya. My Uncle holds my oath and my love,” he replied.

Lord Námo nodded. “Stand up, Child.”

Azruzôr did as he was bid, keeping his back straight and head held high.

“Did your lord command you to come here, Child?”

“Nay, Herunya. He asked me if he may use my ship for this endeavor and I told him he might but only if I came with it.”

“You knew you would be breaking the Ban we have placed upon your people,” Lord Námo remarked.

“Aye, Herunya. I knew Uncle would need help sailing my ship and I knew he would never ask me to accompany him on such a foolish endeavor. Yet I would gladly forfeit my life in place of another whom Uncle would have had to take with him.”

“You value your life so little, Child?” Lord Námo frowned.

“Nay, yet, I have nothing to lose. I have taken no wife for I knew that it was likely I would suffer the same fate as my parents for my loyalty to my Uncle.” Azruzôr sighed. “I did not think we would reach Aman. I thought we would perish ere we reached the shore. Yet I violated the Ban with full knowledge that I was breaking your law. Do with me as you will for my trespass, Herunya. I am still of the Faithful, despite my actions, and I will accept whatever you decree.”

Azruzôr bowed then moved closer to his uncle, who put a hand on his shoulder.

“That is well, Child,” the Lord of Mandos said softly. He then addressed Avalôbêl in Sindarin. “Valandil Nárëndilion, Amandil is also your lord?”

Aye, hîr nîn,” Avalôbêl replied, rising to his feet, his knees aching. “He is also my employer. I have been his manservant for almost eighty two years.”

“Did he command you to come here, Child?”

“Nay, hîr nîn, he did not,” Avalôbêl said. “He asked me to accompany him because he knew that I am an experienced sailor. My wife passed away some months ago and my children are grown with children of their own. I knew if I perished on this quest I would leave none behind who were dependent upon me.”

Avalôbêl could not quite bring himself to look at Lord Námo’s face, and settled for gazing at his chest.

“Lord Amandil is not just my lord but also my friend,” he continued. “I knew what he was asking of me when he suggested I come with him on his voyage. Yet I thought that coming here might help secure a better future for my children, grandchildren and all of the Faithful.”

He took a breath and forced himself to look the Vala in the eyes. “Lord Amandil has been good to me and my family and is dear to my heart. I will suffer whatever fate awaits him, hîr nîn,” Avalôbêl said firmly, then bowed. When he glanced at Lord Amânzîr, he was surprised to see that there were tears in his eyes.

“Your loyalty is commendable, Child. Yet know that your doom might well be different from your lord’s,” the Judge of the Valar said. He then looked at the last Man still kneeling. “Abârôn Zimradthôr.”

“Be careful, Brother. I sense this one’s fëa is damaged,” Irmo warned in ósanwe.

Abârôn trembled in terror as the Lord of Mandos said his name, and hunched closer to the ground. He hoped he would not be bidden to stand, for he did not think his legs had the strength to bear him. He closed his eyes and controlled his breathing, digging his nails into his palms, trying not to bolt. He did not want to know what they would do to him if he did. And what would he say? Abârôn did not know any of the Elven tongues, for his tutoring had stopped in all the chaos that had followed Lord Amânzîr’s order for ships to be made ready to sail at a moment’s notice.

“I… I do not speak Nimriyê,” Abârôn whispered.

“Fear not, Child. None here wish you ill,” Lord Námo replied gently in Adûnaic. Abârôn looked up at the Vala in amazement.

“Amânzîr is your lord, Child?’

“Aye, Bârhên.”

He was surprised to see compassion in the Judge’s grey eyes.

“How long have you served him?”

“Four years, Bârhên,” Abârôn replied, pleased to find his limbs had stopped shaking.

“Did Bâr Amânzîr command you to come here, Child?” The Lord of Mandos asked.

“Nay, Bârhên,” Abârôn shook his head. “He told me that he intended to come here and that Bâr Azruzôr and Avalôbêl were coming with him. He said that he had arranged for me to be taken on as his son’s manservant. I asked Bâr Amânzîr to take me with him. I thought I might help him sail the ship for I have no family who might mourn me were I never to return.”

“Did you know about the Ban we had placed on ships sailing here from Anadûnê, Child?” Lord Námo inquired.

Abârôn nodded. “Aye, Bârhên. Bâr Amânzîr is a good Man. He told me about the Ban to make sure I knew what I was committing to by going with him. Yet I hoped that coming here might help those in Middle-Earth who suffer from the Adûnaim who raid the coasts and enslave the Men whom dwell there.”

Abârôn swallowed, his throat dry, then forced himself to his feet. He stood shakily, acutely aware of the eyes of all of the Valar upon him. “It was my decision to come here, Bârhên,” he said, striving to keep his voice steady. “It was not Bâr Amânzîr’s. He should not be punished for crimes that are mine.”

“He will not be, Child,” Lord Námo said. “As I told your lord, everyone is judged for their own actions.”

Abârôn bowed. “Thank you, Bârhên.”

Amânzîr placed a hand on Abârôn’s shoulder and smiled at him. “Well done, lad,” he whispered.

“What have you decided?” the Elder King asked Námo.

“They are all guilty of breaking the Ban,” the Doomsman answered. “But I deem Amandil bears more culpability that the others for they would not have come here were it not for him. I would sentence him to death as we agreed would be the penalty for the violation of this law.”

“Then I will ask Father for permission,” Manwë said wearily.

There was a moment of silence in which Elder King bowed his head, and when he lifted it again his eye were sad.

“Father has given his consent,” he said heavily. “We may take his life.”

“Who shall be the one to execute him?” Aulë asked, frowning.

“I will,” Manwë replied decisively.

“You do not have to be the one to carry out the sentence, my friend,” Ulmo said. “You have never taken a life before. Perhaps Tulkas or Oromë ought to do it. They have experience in such things. Or mayhap Námo might—”

“No,” Manwë interrupted. “I am Father’s vicegerent in Eä and I am responsible for ordering his death. It is my onus to see that it is carried out and that the Man does not suffer unduly.”

None of them could find fault with the Elder King’s reasoning and a grim silence fell between them.