Strangers in a Strange Land by My blue rose

Chapter One: Departure

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Chapter One: Departure

“It is said that Amandil set sail in a small ship at night, and steered first eastward, and then went about and passed into the west. And he took with him three servants, dear to his heart, and never again were they heard of by word or sign in this world, nor is there any tale or guess of their fate.” ~The Silmarillion, Akallabêth

5th of Víresse in the Year 3316 of the Second Age, King’s Reckoning:

The ocean billowed as if a giant had dropped a stone into its depths, sending rolls of water at the little ship that bobbed on its surface. The sky was iron gray and the air full of water droplets too small to be rain but too large to be fog. The moisture scattered the setting sun’s rays so that the ship was bathed in ruddy light. A young man leaned over the side of the boat, gripping the sheer strake tightly. Taking deep breaths, Abârôn willed his stomach to settle and wondered what madness had convinced him to join Lord Amânzîr in this endeavor.

But he knew the answer.

Abârôn was greatly indebted to Lord Amânzîr, for he had apprenticed him so he might learn a trade and had paid for him to be tutored in many subjects. And it was not as if he had kin whom might miss him should he perish. After a few moments, he lost the battle with his stomach and vomited over the side of the ship. He was contemplating how much he hated sailing when Abârôn felt a hand rubbing circles on his back. He looked up to see the wrinkled face of Avalôbêl crouched beside him. The young man smiled weakly at Lord Amânzîr’s manservant.

The two Men appeared similar. Both were beardless and Abârôn’s brown hair was cropped short in the manner of servants as was Avalôbêl’s. They also wore the same white woolen servant’s tunics, the left breast of which was embroidered with the emblem of the Lords of Andûnië: a golden rayed Sun setting against an indigo horizon. Avalôbêl had been good to his apprentice, if not always patient. He had always reminded Abârôn of his grandfather, gruff and not suffering fools gladly, yet with a kind heart.

“Drink,” Avalôbêl ordered, handing Abârôn a water skin once he was certain the lad was not going to be sick again.

Abârôn did so after rinsing his mouth out and spitting several times over the edge of the boat. He grimaced, trying to ignore the taste of the water that had picked up the flavor of the wooden barrel it had been stored in. Abârôn knew he had become spoiled living in Lord Amânzîr’s estate just outside Rómenna. There was a spring on the property, and he had forgotten what it was like to drink water that did not taste fresh. Abârôn thought that even well water would be preferable to water that had been stored in an oaken cask for several weeks.

“You need to drink more, else you will get sick,” Avalôbêl said as Abârôn handed him the water skin.

Abârôn nodded, but did not think he could not bring himself to drink anymore of the stale water. From the aft of the ship a man came towards them with long sure strides, even on the pitching deck. His face was unlined, but not young, with a large nose that prevented him from being truly handsome. His beard was trimmed short and his dark hair was drawn back in a solitary braid, after the fashion of mariners. He was barefoot and naked from the waist up, with his arms crossed over his muscled chest. He would have looked imposing if he had not been smiling broadly.

“You should not mother the boy so much, Avalôbêl. He is almost a man now,” he said good naturedly.

“Bârhên Azruzôr, it seems you have misplaced your tunic once again. Shall I get you a new one ere you catch your death of cold?” Avalôbêl’s voice was dry and he squeezed Abârôn’s shoulder before straightening, fastidiously smoothing his tunic.

“I take it back! You may mother the boy all you like provided you do not mother me,” Azruzôr said wryly, winking at Abârôn. “Here lad, I bought this ere we left. Thought you might have need of it.” He held out a ceramic jar. “It is pickled ginger. I remembered you liked it and I thought I would help settle your stomach.”

Lord Azruzôr had introduced Abârôn to pickled ginger several years ago, after a disastrous fishing trip where he had been terribly seasick. Abârôn liked Lord Azruzôr, though he drove Avalôbêl mad with his lack of propriety. Lord Azruzôr was the youngest child of Lord Amânzîr’s younger brother, Lord Azrutarik. He had inherited the love of the Sea that many of the Lords of Númenór had possessed but, unlike them, he was mostly known for his cheerful insouciance. It was his ship, the Azrukarbu, they were sailing, and Lord Azruzôr had built her himself.

“Thank you, Bârhên.” Abârôn was touched by his kindness. He gave a bow that was shaky due to the roll of the ship, but Lord Azruzôr waved his hand dismissively.

“None of that, now. How many times have I said that it is impossible to run a ship with Men bowing all over the place?”

“Often enough, I am sure,” Amânzîr said as he emerged from below deck.

Lord Amânzîr was a hand taller than his nephew, handsome, with a neatly trimmed beard and sharp eyes, grey as the morning mist. The hair at this temples was grey but the rest of his locks were dark, shot with strands of silver. He did not wear his hair loose about his shoulders, as was custom among the Lords of Númenór, but bound in a single plait. He wore the same black sailor’s breeches as his companions, fastened with clamshell buttons. Yet Lord Amânzîr’s tunic was linen, dyed indigo, with silver embroidery at the hem, collar and cuffs.

“Did you sleep well, Uncle?” Azruzôr asked. He was steering the ship during the day with Abârôn as his help while Lord Amânzîr, whom was as nearly as good a sailor as his nephew, would guide the ship at night with Avalôbêl.

“We made good time again today,” Azruzôr continued, not giving his uncle time to answer. “Twelve knots. If this wind keeps through the night, we should see the Enchanted Isles on the morrow. Three hundred and forty leagues in a fortnight. That is almost too swift. Maybe the Bârun Anazra and the Adûnakhôr are taking pity on us?” Azruzôr grinned, though he did not truly believe they were receiving aid from the Powers.

“We can but hope,” Amânzîr replied quietly, looking West.

Abârôn followed his gaze, yet in the waning light he saw nothing but the endless Sea. They had set sail from the harbor in Rómenna and headed east for a day before turning south and angling west, heading for where the Elven ships were known to pass on their way to Tol Eressëa. They wanted to skirt the Lonely Island to the south, but there were no accurate maps to be found in Númenór detailing the seas around Tol Eressëa or how to pass the Enchanted Isles that barred the way. As Lord Azruzôr said, they would burn that bridge when they came to it.

Abârôn climbed the ladder that led below deck, descending into the large chamber that served as the galley and common room. He sat down at the table that was bolted to the floor to prevent it from moving. The glass lantern overhead swayed with the ship and the candlelight sent shadows dancing along the walls. He did not feel up to eating anything and ignored the kettle of soup that was on the small stove in the fore of the ship. Using his belt dagger, Abârôn scraped off the beeswax that sealed the jar Lord Azruzôr had given him.

Removing the cork, he fished dripping pieces of pickled ginger out of the container. Abârôn chewed slowly, savoring the tang, praying that it would calm his stomach. He wondered how much this delicacy had cost, as he knew it had to be imported from Umbar. He decided not to finish the whole jar in case he felt sick again tomorrow. Covering the jar with a clean cloth, he put it in one of the many storage cupboards that lined the walls of the room. Then he made his way to the aft of the galley where there were two small rooms.

The starboard cabin was Lord Amânzîr’s and Lord Azruzôr’s, while the portside one he shared with Avalôbêl. The room was dark inside for there was no lantern. Abârôn made his way to the bed that was set into the right wall by feel. He kicked off his shoes and settled on the straw mattress, drawing the wool blanket over his head. He should have changed out of his tunic but did not feel like doing so. After the ginger, the pitching of the ship felt more like the rocking of a cradle rather than the inside a butter churn. Soon the gentle motion lulled him to sleep.

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Chapter End Notes

Glossary

5th of Víresse (Quenya): March 27^th on the Gregorian calendar.

Sheer strake (English): the uppermost timber (strake) on the hull of a ship, also call the ‘top strake’. It is more commonly known as the ‘gunwale’ but this term would not be appropriate in Middle-earth, since it derives from the use of this part of a ship to secure cannons.

Amânzîr (Adûnaic): ‘Friend of Aman’. This is the Adûnaic form of the Quenya name ‘Amandil’.

“…The emblem of the Lords of Andûnië”: a sigil of my own invention based on the fact that the word Andúnië is a variant of the Quenya word andúnë, meaning ‘sunset’.

Bârhên (Andûnaic): ‘My Lord’.

“…Lord Azruzôr was the youngest child of Lord Amânzîr’s brother Lord Azrutarik”: In an abandoned version of the Fall of Númenor (The Lost Road, HoME V), Tolkien told the story of Amandil’s brother, Elentir (Azrutarik in Andûnaic), whom was in love with Míriel the daughter of Tar-Palantir. Later, Tolkien changed the story so that Míriel was forced into marriage by her cousin Ar-Pharazôn and in the course of revising the story, Elentir disappeared from canon altogether.

Azrukarbu (Andûnaic): ‘Sea Stallion’.

Bârun Anazra (Adûnaic): ‘Lord of the Sea’. Another name for the Vala Ulmo.

Adûnakhôr (Adûnaic): ‘Lord of the West’. Another name for the Vala Manwë.

Chapter Two: Destination

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Chapter Two: Destination

“And in that time also, which songs call Nurtalë Valinóreva, the Hiding of Valinor, the Enchanted Isles were set, and all the seas about them were filled with shadows and bewilderment. And these isles were strung as a net in the Shadowy Seas from the north to the south, before Tol Eressëa, the Lonely Isle, is reached by one sailing west. Hardly might any vessel pass between them, for in the dangerous sounds the waves sighed forever upon dark rocks shrouded in mist. And in the twilight a great weariness came upon mariners and a loathing of the sea; but all that ever set foot upon the islands were there entrapped, and slept until the Change of the World.” ~ The Silmarillion, Quenta Silmarillion

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

Abârôn awoke to the sound of Avalôbêl singing an old sailor’s hymn from the galley.

"Eternal Father, strong to save, whose arm hath bound the restless wave.

Who bids the mighty ocean deep its own appointed limits keep.

O hear us when we cry to Thee, for those in peril on the Sea!"

He got out of bed and left the cabin, smoothing his sleep-rumpled tunic. The galley was filled with light from the open hatches above and Abârôn squinted, turning his head to and fro, attempting to find the Sun so he could see what time it was. He was pleased to see that the ship was not pitching like yesterday, meaning that he was unlikely to be seasick today. He was about to ascend the ladder when he was interrupted by Avalôbêl, whom was stirring a kettle over the stove.

“Sit down, lad, and I will get you some breakfast.” Avalôbêl proceeded to ladle a wooden bowl full of steaming soup, and this he set on the table, along with a plate that held raisin cakes.

“Why did you not wake me?” Abârôn demanded, as he had found the Sun and discovered it was nearly midday. He should have been up long ago to help Lord Azruzôr steer the ship and Avalôbêl should have been sleeping after a long night of the same.

“You will see when you go up,” Avalôbêl’s voice was dark. Abârôn made to climb the ladder, intending to see what his mentor was on about.

“Not now boy! You can go up after you have eaten. I noticed you did not have any soup last night. You are thin enough as it is. Sit,” He gestured to a chair, “And break your fast.”

Abârôn sat, wanting to go topsides but knowing better than to argue with Avalôbêl when he was in this sort of temper. He ate swiftly, barely tasting the excellent soup and sweet raisin cakes. He then went to the corner of the galley and drank from the water barrel. When he had finally satisfied Avalôbêl that was he was not going to perish from either hunger or thirst, Abârôn was allowed to ascend the ladder. Emerging from below, he was astonished to see both the fore and aft sails reefed but the wind was light—far lighter than it had been the day before.

Why, then, were the sails furled as if in high wind?

He looked about and his stomach clenched, fear racing down his spine. The Azrukarbu was surrounded by islands off both her port and starboard sides, and all beyond that was shrouded in thick fog. Abârôn peered over the top strake and saw that the water was deep, but with so many islands they were surely surrounded by hidden reefs. Strangely, the ship seemed to be moving swiftly through the water, much faster than should be possible with the weak wind and her sails trimmed so.

Abârôn made his way astern to where Lord Amânzîr and Lord Azruzôr were standing. Lord Azruzôr was shirtless once more and he leaned casually against the tiller, but his eyes that looked out at the islands were uncharacteristically worried.  Lord Amânzîr was still wearing his dark blue tunic, standing erect, arms crossed. He gazed ahead into the fog, eyes inscrutable, face grim. Abârôn gave a perfunctory bow and Amânzîr’s face softened as he asked, “How do you fare, lad?”

“Well, Bârhên. How long have we been…?” Abârôn trailed off, not knowing how to describe what was happening.

Amânzîr understood what he was trying to ask. “Since daybreak, not long after the Sun rose. We are caught in a strong current, it seems, and we have been unable to maneuver out of it.”

Azruzôr snorted derisively. “This is no current, Uncle. What current steers a ship carefully around islands, even against the wind? This,” he pointed to the Sea, “is magic. Someone is leading us like a horse on a halter.”

“Should we not drop anchor?” Abârôn asked, tentatively.

“We attempted that earlier but all it accomplished was to slow us down by a few knots,” Azruzôr said sourly. It greatly galled the man to have his beloved ship out of his control.

“If this current keeps we should reach shore before nightfall,” Amânzîr stated softly.

“Then we can but hope whomever is doing this does not intend to dash us to pieces against the rocks,” Azruzôr replied darkly, gripping the tiller tightly.

The ship’s course altered slightly to avoid a large rock off the portside as the three Men stared silently into the fog.

It was a little before noon when they emerged from the islands and fog. The four of them stood on the deck, gazing West. At first, Abârôn did not understand what he was seeing. Far ahead, instead of the horizon, it appeared as if the ocean became a wall that blocked out the sky. As they grew closer Abârôn craned his neck, but could see naught but the clouds that wreathed the great wall. He wondered aloud if perhaps they had come to the end of the Earth and that this was the boundary that kept the water from spilling over the edge.

Lord Azruzôr laughed at this and said that the world was round like an apple, and then spent some time cheerfully disparaging the lad’s tutors whom had failed to instruct him in such things. Lord Amânzîr informed them that the wall was truly a mountain range, called the Pelóri, which ran along the eastern shores of Aman. The mysterious current only grew swifter now that they were free of the islands. Noon came and passed, and they forwent the midday meal, as none of them truly felt much like eating.

Soon they were close enough to the shore that Abârôn could make out the individual peaks of the Pelóri, and they shortly came to a strait between what must be Aman and Tol Eressëa. They had entered a large bay when the ship, which had been heading north, veered west, straight toward the shore. From here they could see where the mountain range disappeared for a span and continued the other side, leaving a gap through which a river ran. Lord Amânzîr said this was the Calacirya, and that they must pass through it when they landed.

The bay was curiously empty. It was a fair day, even with the poor wind, and Abârôn thought there should be Elves fishing in the waters, or at least gathering shellfish and sea lettuce along the shore. On the strand they could see small boats that had been hauled out, yet the bay and the coast were deserted. Abârôn realized that he had thought they would perish ere they reached the shore, and marveled that they had been allowed to come this far. Their ship ran aground smoothly on the white sand of its own accord, listing to her portside as she settled.

“We will never get her off the beach, not with her draft! She was never meant to go ashore,” Azruzôr lamented, surveying his ship with dismay.

“It is unlikely that we will need her to be moved off shore,” Amânzîr said quietly to his nephew, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Go put your good tunic on. I wish us to depart as soon as possible. There is likely to be a long walk ahead of us.”

It was then that Avalôbêl noticed a figure striding out of the water next to the ship and onto the shore. At first he thought it was a Man, but as the figure turned to face them he thought it must be an Elf, for he was the fairest being Avalôbêl had ever seen. He was as taller than Lord Amânzîr’s son, Lord Nimruzîr, and his long hair was silver. It was not the grey of old age, as was Avalôbêl’s own hair, but the truly the same color as the metal. His eyes were also a queer shade, the lightest of blues, like mountain ice. The stranger smiled and waved to them from the beach.

“Hail and well met! I am Salmar, servant of Ulmo, and I bid you welcome to the shores of Aman.” His Adûnaic sounded as if he had been born and raised in Númenór, but there was a strange lyrical quality to his voice, as if he was more used to singing than talking. The strangest thing about him, aside from his coloring, was that although he had just walked out of the Sea, he did not appear to be wet. Even the tunic he wore—iridescent as an abalone shell—was dry, as was his belt, made of strands of pearls.

“Well met. I am Amânzîr Adûnazîrthôr, Lord of Andûnië. This is my nephew, Bâr Azruzôr Azrutarikthôr. These are my servants Avalôbêl Zôrzîrthôr and Abârôn Zimradthôr,” Amânzîr said, bowing from where he stood near the prow of the ship.

Because they had run aground, there was some difficulty disembarking. Abârôn scrambled down the portside of the ship like a bilge rat. Lord Azruzôr simply leapt from the top strake into the surf, soaking himself and the scarlet tunic he had only just donned. Lord Amânzîr assisted in lowering Avalôbêl to the ground, much to his embarrassment. Yet Avalôbêl was able to admit that it would have been nigh impossible for him find a way to reach the beach by himself without injury. As it was, he scraped his hands on the barnacles that covered hull.

“She’ll need a new coat of paint. No doubt the sand has striped a good measure off…” Azruzôr muttered to himself, his voice so low as to barely be heard, as he stroked his ship.

“Forgive me, I did not intend to damage your vessel,” Salmar said.

“So you are the one responsible for this?” Azruzôr accused, looking much aggrieved.

“It was necessary. You could not have passed the Islands without my assistance and there is no quay in the Bay of Eldamar. Ships usually dock at Alqualondë but I did not think it prudent to take you north when I knew you would only need to come south again.”

“We are very grateful, Bârhên.” Amânzîr said firmly, giving his nephew a quelling glance.

“I am no lord,” Salmar laughed. “But come, there is a road through the Calacirya that runs parallel to the river.” He pointed to the gap in the mountains. “I will lead you to Tirion. Perhaps from there others may help you.”

“You know why we are here,” Amânzîr said quietly.

Salmar nodded. “Why do you think I aided you? I have spent many yéni in the Bay of Rómenna and in the Bay of Andûnië, observing the doings of the Men of Númenórë. Long have I watched the Men of your House strive against the Shadow and I would fain see you succeed in your quest.”

With that, the five of them set off across the beach toward the river. 

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Chapter End Notes

Glossary

“Eternal Father, Strong to Save”: first verse of a hymn written by William Whiting in 1860.                                                                                                            

“…both the fore and aft sails were reefed”: Reefing is the means of reducing the area of a sail in order to improve a craft's stability and minimize the risk of damage to the sail or boat in a strong wind.

“…said that the world was round like an apple”: I hold to the Round World version of J.R.R. Tolkien's Legendarium, published in the final volumes of The History of Middle-earth. In this version, the setting of his legendarium is more realistic and less mythological: the Earth was always round, and Arda was the name for the whole solar system instead of just the Earth. In the Round World version the stars were not created with the Awakening of the Elves, but the occluding clouds were removed to reveal them. (Although I don’t hold to the Round World idea of the Sun and the Moon not being the fruit of the Two Trees.) The Round World version can be considered the 'real' story behind the text of the Quenta Silmarillion which can be seen as just the legends based on the 'reality', written by the ancient people of Middle-earth. In his last years, Tolkien didn't view his legendarium as having an Elvish origin, but a Mannish one, and thus the legends contained in it could be inaccurate.

Nimruzîr (Adûnaic): ‘Elendil’.

Amânzîr Adûnazîrthôr (Adûnaic): ‘Amânzîr son of Adûnazîr’.

Bâr Azruzôr Azrutarikthôr (Adûnaic): ‘Lord Azruzôr son of Azrutarik’.

Avalôbêl Zôrzîrthôr (Adûnaic): ‘Avalôbêl son of Zôrzîr’.

Abârôn Zimradthôr (Adûnaic): ‘Abârôn son of Zimrad’.

Númenórë (Quenya): ‘Númenór’. This is an older form of the word, reflecting the fact that the Quenya spoken in Aman would sound archaic to a Númenorean speaker.

Yéni (Quenya): a unit of time used by the Elves equivalent to 144 solar years. Singular is ‘Yén’.

 

Chapter Three: Deliverance

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Chapter Three: Deliverance

“The days are dark, and there is no hope in Men, for the Faithful are few. Therefore I am minded to try that counsel which our forefather Eärendil took of old, to sail into the West, be there ban or no, and to speak to the Valar, even to Manwë himself, if may be, and beseech his aid ere all is lost.” 'Would you then betray the King?' said Elendil. 'For you know well the charge that they make against us, that we are traitors and spies, and that until this day it has been false.' 'If I thought that Manwë needed such a messenger,' said Amandil, 'I would betray the King. For there is but one loyalty from which no man can be absolved in heart for any cause. But it is for mercy upon Men and their deliverance from Sauron the Deceiver that I would plead, since some at least have remained faithful.” ~The Silmarillion, Akallabêth

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

When they reached the entrance to the cleft a short time later, Abârôn saw that a figure now stood there where he was certain none had been before. He was even taller than Salmar, with long braided brown hair and azure eyes. He was dressed in a white tunic and sky blue tabard that had an eagle emblazoned in silver thread on the chest. At his belt hung a saber with a large sapphire set into its pommel. There was a moment of silence in which Salmar and this newcomer stared at each other, seeming to converse without words.

Then Salmar’s shoulders slumped, and the stranger turned to Lord Amânzîr and gave a short bow.

“Namárië Núnatani. Nanyë Eönwë, núro Manwëo,” he said in a musical baritone.

“Not all of them speak Quenya, Eönwë,” Salmar replied in Adûnaic, sounding tired.

“I see. I am Eönwë, a servant of Manwë. Well met,” he said in flawless Adûnaic.

Avalôbêl felt his mouth go dry as he realized that this was the Maia whom had lead Host of the Valar that his grandmother had told him stories about in his youth.

“You have been summoned by the Valar. I have been ordered to escort you to the Máhanaxar.”

“They are to stand in judgment?” Salmar asked, sounding concerned.  

“As are you,” Eönwë said, giving the other Maia a piercing glare. Salmar flinched and looked away. “It is a league to Calacirian and then another two leagues to the Máhanaxar. We must leave now if we are to reach it ere the Sun sets.”

The Maia turned and began walking towards the Calacirya, Salmar at his side, while the Men exchanged worried looks before hastening to follow them.

The Calacirya was narrow, only two furlongs or so wide. It was so deep that all within was shadowed, and noticeably cooler than the open shore had been in the heat of the afternoon Sun. The river flowed along its southern edge and there was a road constructed of light grey stones that ran down its center. The highway was broad, about six rangar wide, and slightly curved so that water would drain into the channels on either side of it. They walked along it in silence, the only sound the whistling of wind through the canyon and the ceaseless rushing of the river.

Their pace was unhurried, and it took longer than Abârôn liked to reach the end of the ravine. He found the journey wearying, not because he was tired, but because no one spoke the entire way, too intimidated by Eönwë’s company. He was glad when they finally emerged from the gorge and stood before a vast plain that stretched as far as the eye could see. The river curved to follow the base of the mountains south of them, and several furlongs ahead was a large hill that Salmar said was called Túna.

Atop the emerald hill was a City whose white towers and terraced walls gleamed in the sunlight. Stairs that appeared to be made of white crystal ascended to a pair of large gates near the top. Túna was surrounded by a patchwork of farmland dotted with stone houses and barns. The fields were full of knee-high green wheat and the orchards were white with blossoms, the sweet scent of which carried on the wind. Yet, though Avalôbêl saw livestock grazing and smoke rising from chimneys, he could see no one about. He wondered at that, for surely such a City must be home to thousands.

Eönwë turned to him and said, “Today is Valanya, the High Day. None of the Eldar perform work on this day. It is set aside for rest and for giving praise to Eru for the gifts he bestows. This is why you do not see anyone. Most spend the High Day at home with family and it is nearing time for the evening meal.”

“But it is Eärenya, not Valanya,” Avalôbêl objected weakly.

Though Eönwë spoke in Andûnaic, he interspersed it with words Avalôbêl did not know but suspected were in Quenya. Like most of the Elendili, Avalôbêl had been secretly taught to speak Sindarin as a child, yet only the Nobles of Andúnië still taught their children how to speak Quenya. What little he knew of the language came from the many things in Númenór that were still called by their ancient Quenya names, even after King Ar-Adûnakhôr banned its speaking centuries ago.

“I know that in Númenórë you have seven days in a week but the Eldar have only six. That is why today is Valanya,” Salmar explained.

“Tis a fair City,” Amânzîr said softly, gazing at the largest tower rising from the Hill.

“Aye, Tirion has always been thus. Yet it has little more than half of the population it had before the majority of the Noldor fled to Endórë,” Eönwë said sadly. “But we must head this way.” The Maia pointed up ahead to where the road diverged.

If they continued straight the road they were on would take them directly to Tirion. The south road ran along the Pelóri to what looked like a distant forest. The one next to it continued southwest across the farmland, disappearing into the distance. The north road followed the Pelóri toward what appeared to be the foot of a mountain and what that looked like another city. Yet the six of them took the road that cut northwest through the grass strewn plain and led to something that looked like a broad hill, more flat and not so high as Túna.

“Lad,” Avalôbêl said quietly to Abârôn, “What do you see? These old eyes are not as keen as they used to be.”

Thought Avalôbêl he had spoken softly, so as not to be overheard, it was Salmar who answered him. “The mound that rises from the plain is the Ezellohar, where the Two Trees used to grow. The city of Valmar is beside it.” Salmar’s tone became ominous. “…and between them is the Máhanaxar.”

They walked in silence, each preoccupied with their own thoughts. Azruzôr’s tunic had dried by the time they were close enough to see that the City of the Valar was built in a square, encased in walls of pale grey stone, flecked with silver. A short while later the Sun began to set, causing the golden roofs of the houses to shine. The Men paused in surprise as suddenly hundreds of bells began to chime. They continued for some time, and Abârôn thought that there was a melody to them, too complex for him to fully grasp.

“They are signaling the end of the day,” Eönwë answered the unspoken question when the last bell finally ceased pealing. “Salmar, you ought to change.”

His fellow Maia nodded. Then, several heartbeats later, he was suddenly wearing something similar to Eönwë. He was now dressed in a white tunic with a Sea green tabard, the chest of which was emblazoned with a cresting wave in silver thread. Smiling at the Men’s astonishment, he explained that the clothes were not real, but merely a part of his fana, and could be changed at will. Eönwë bade them continue, and they followed the road as it passed between the Ezellohar and the western gold wrought gates of Valmar.

A furlong to the west, at the foot of the Ezellohar, was the Máhanaxar. They left the road, which continued northwest past the hill and the City, and headed toward the Ring of Doom.

The ground inside the Ring was made of a single piece of polished black granite and fourteen thrones were arrayed around it, carved from what appeared to be white marble. In them sat tall and noble figures, their fair faces impassive as statues. Those who sat in the northern half of the Ring were Lords, while those in the southern half were Ladies. All wore plain mithril circlets on their brows, save for the two that sat nearest to Valmar. Their thrones were raised on a small dais, and the Lord had a star sapphire set in his circlet while the Lady had a diamond in hers.

The Lords wore ankle-length, cross-collared robes that were plain in weave and unadorned by broidery, yet dyed more vividly than any the Men had ever seen. The Ladies wore high-collared gowns, also brilliantly colored, but their beauty was such that they were hard to look upon directly. As they approached the Ring, Abârôn’s stomach clenched and he had to fight the impulse to flee. They stopped just outside the circle, before the two whom sat on the raised thrones. Abârôn stared at the ground to avoid looking at anyone, and thought it queer that the Valar were barefoot.

The Herald of Manwë gestured for Lord Amânzîr to enter the Máhanaxar and he did so, back straight and shoulders squared. Upon reaching the center of the Ring he bowed low to the Lord of the West and knelt before him, keeping his eyes on the hem of Elder King’s robe that was dyed the blue of summer skies. Abârôn was surprised when he felt Avalôbêl clasp his shoulder and squeeze it; nevertheless, he was glad of the comfort it brought. He swallowed several times and prayed that he would not be sick.

“What is your name, Child?” The Elder King asked in Quenya. He had a rich tenor that reminded Amânzîr of the deep peal of some of the bells they had just heard. Amânzîr dared to look up and saw that Lord Manwë had long, honey-brown hair and eyes the same blue as his robe.

“I am Amandil Númendilion the 18th Lord of Andûnië, Herunúmen.” Amânzîr said. “My companions are my Nephew, Ëarnáron Elentirion and my servants, Valandil Nárëndilion and Voronwë Mírwëion.”

“Why do you come here, Child? Why have you violated the command that has been laid upon your people?” The Lord of Mandos asked in a deep baritone, and Amânzîr flinched, though his tone was mild.

“I am here to beseech your aid on behalf of my people, Herunya,” he said, forcing himself to look directly into Lord Námo’s grey eyes. The Vala’s hair and robe were black and he was frowning slightly.

“In what would you have us aide you, Child?” The Star Kindler’s voice was like the tinkle of wind chimes, silvery as the dress she wore. Her hair was raven and her eyes the deepest of blues, and Amânzîr had never seen anyone so beautiful.

“It is for mercy upon Men and their deliverance from Sauron the Deceiver that I would entreat, Herinya.”

There was a moment of silence. Then the Elder King spoke once more. “Stand up, Child. We would hear your plea—but not from one who is on his knees.”

Amânzîr blinked in surprise and hesitated. Lord Ulmo, who was seated to the right of Lord Manwë, gave him a nod with a small encouraging smile. The Lord of Waters’ eyes were the blue green of the Sea, as was his robe. Amânzîr noticed that there were shells of different colors braided into his silver hair and beard. He stood slowly, giving the Valar a brief bow before straightening again. He took a deep breath to steel himself, determined not to fail after having come so far, then began the speech he had dwelt upon for months.

---

Chapter End Notes

Glossary

 “Namárië Núnatani. Nanyë Eönwë, núro Manwëo (Quenya): ‘Greetings Men of the West. I am Eönwë, servant of Manwë’.  Namárië can be used both as a greeting and as a farewell, like ‘Shalom’ in Hebrew. ‘Núnatani’ is a cognate of the Sindarin ‘Dúnedain’.

Máhanaxar (Valarin): ‘Ring of Doom’. This where the Valar would gather to hold councils and pass judgment.

Calacirian (Quenya): a region of Eldamar near the entrance to the ravine of Calacirya. The hill of Túna stood there with the city of Tirion built upon it.

Furlong (English): a measure of distance in equal to one-eighth of a mile or 660 feet. It originally referred to the length as the distance a team of oxen could plough without resting, which is one furrow in one acre of a ploughed field. 

Rangar (Quenya): a measure of length used by the Númenóreans and their descendants in Middle-earth. One ranga was defined as the length of the stride of a man walking at ease or 38 inches.

Elendili (Quenya) ‘Elf Friends’. Those Númenórëans who remained faithful to the Valar and maintained their friendship with the Elves.

Endórë (Quenya): ‘Middle-Earth’. An older form of the world ‘Endor’.

“…took the road that went northwest.”:  Tolkien didn’t make any maps of Valinor, unfortunately. I’ve seen many maps that are artists’ interpretations of what Aman would look like based on descriptions given in the Professor’s writings but they all lack something (like an accurate scale). I’ve decided to place Taniquetil (and Valmar) north of the Calacirya while most maps I’ve seen place it south of the gap.

Ezellohar (Vanyarin): ‘Green Mound’. The hill before the western gates of Valmar upon which Two Trees of Valinor grew. Also called Corollairë.

Fana (Quenya): The ‘raiment’ in which the Valar and Maiar self-incarnate. The word ‘fana’ is related to the word for ‘veil’ or ‘cloud’ as fanar are not real in the same way the bodies of true incarnates (i.e. Men and Elves) are.

Amandil Númendilion (Quenya): ‘Amandil son of Númendil’. The Quenya form of Amânzîr’s name.

Herunúmen (Quenya): ‘Lord of the West’. One of the titles of Manwë.

Ëarnáron Elentirion (Quenya): ‘Ëarnáron son of Elentir’. The Quenya form of Azruzôr’s name.

Valandil Nárëndilion (Quenya): ‘Valandil son of Nárëndil’. The Quenya form of Avalôbêl’s name.

Voronwë Mírwëion (Quenya): ‘Voronwë son of Mírwë’. The Quenya form of Avalôbêl’s name

Herunya (Quenya): ‘My lord’.

Vala (Quenya): the singular of Valar. Usually refers to the male Valar.

Herinya (Quenya): ‘My lady’.

Chapter Four: Deliberation

Read Chapter Four: Deliberation

Chapter Four: Deliberation

“Nonetheless for long it seemed to the Númenóreans that they prospered, and if they were not increased in happiness, yet they grew more strong, and their rich men ever richer. For with the aid and counsel of Sauron they multiplied their possessions, and they devised engines, and they built ever greater ships. And they sailed now with power and armory to Middle-earth, and they came no longer as bringers of gifts, nor even as rulers, but as fierce men of war. And they hunted the men of Middle-Earth and took their goods and enslaved them, and many they slew cruelly upon their altars. For they built in their fortresses temples and great tombs in those days; and men feared them, and the memory of the kindly Kings of the ancient days faded from the world and was darkened by many a tale of dread.” ~ The Silmarillion, Akallabêth

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

“What are they saying?” Abârôn whispered to Lord Azruzôr. He marveled that his lord did not seem to be afraid; he himself was trembling and the Powers were not even looking at him.

Azruzôr hushed him, not unkindly, but he was too intent upon the conversation to translate.

Eönwë, who was standing next to Abârôn, replied quietly. “He asks my Lords to intervene and remove Sauron from his place of power in Númenórë, citing the many atrocities he has either committed or inspired others to commit. He said his Brother and Sister-in-Law were burnt upon an altar as a sacrifice because they refused to worship Morgoth.”

Abârôn looked at Lord Azruzôr, who was listening to his uncle closely; he had not known about the man’s parents.

“He also said,” Eönwë continued, regarding Abârôn with interest, “that you are an example of the cruelty Sauron inspires in others. For you were taken from Endórë as a slave ere he took you in.”

Abârôn flushed. He had indeed grown up in a little fishing village a few leagues north of the Agathurush. Men in a ship from Lond Daer had taken him captive to Númenór, intending to sell him as a slave when he was fourteen. He had managed to escape by jumping overboard and had been rescued by Lord Amânzîr, who had been sailing in Bay of Rómenna. That had been four years past and he did not know if any of his family had survived the razing of his village. The thought was bitter and Abârôn shoved away the emotions that came with it.

The Valar listened in silence and, when he was finished, Amânzîr looked the Elder King in the eye.

“I ask you to aide us in removing Tar-Mairon ere all is lost for Ar-Pharazôn seeks to War against you at his urging. I ask you to have mercy on those of us whom have remained faithful. And as for the Ban, I will suffer in myself the penalty, lest all my people should become guilty,” he said, bowing once more.

“It is a sad tale you tell, Child, though we are already aware of most of it,” Lord Manwë sighed. “Return to your companions and refresh yourselves for we must take counsel among us before we come to a decision.”

The Elder King waved his hand and there suddenly appeared a small wooden table next to Avalôbêl. On it were four goblets of crystal and a pitcher full of a clear, colorless liquid. Salmar poured it into the cups as Amânzîr made his way back over to them. Abârôn accepted the goblet he was handed, beholding it warily. He had eaten nothing since this morning and did not think he could manage any strong drink; his stomach was unsettled enough. Yet he did not want to appear rude, either. He sniffed the liquid and was surprised to find that it smelled of flowers.

“What is it?” Abârôn asked Lord Azruzôr, who had already drank half of his.

“It is called Miruvórë. Drink. It shall refresh you and ease your spirit,” Salmar said.

Abârôn took a cautious sip. He immediately felt stronger and more steady. He found much of his fear had left him and that he could look directly at each of the Valar. They sat in silence, their faces expressionless save for occasional flickers of emotion. One of his tutors had taught Abârôn how to read from a book called the Valaquenta, and he tried to see if he could guess the identity of each of the Valar. He had never before had cause to name all of the Powers, and was not certain he could remember all fourteen of them.

Lord Manwë and Lady Varda were obvious, though he could not see them properly, standing behind their thrones as he was. To the right of the Elder King was definitely Lord Ulmo. The Vala next to him looked so dark and forbidding he could only be Lord Mandos. Abârôn carefully avoided meeting his eyes, even though the Judge appeared to be staring intently at the Power to his right. This one had auburn hair and a beard; his muscled arms showed clearly through his russet robe, and Abârôn thought he must be Lord Aulë.

To his right, with chestnut brown hair and a forest green robe, was someone Abârôn thought was Oromë. The Vala next to him he guessed was Lórien, not because he recognized him from the descriptions he had read, but because he looked like his brother. The shape of their faces were similar, as were their black hair and grey eyes, though Lord Irmo’s robe was a deep purple. The Vala nearest the Ezellohar had to be Tulkas. His robe was dyed a rich red, his hair and beard were golden, yet his eyes were a queer yellow-brown.

The Valië to the left of the Elentári had golden hair, and her eyes and gown were the green of new spring leaves. Abârôn knew she must be Yavanna. Next to the Kementári sat Nienna. She looked much like her brothers and wore a dress of the purest white he had ever seen. The names of two Valier sitting next to the Weeper he could not remember, yet one wore a grey gown and had silver hair and the other was dressed in indigo, her hair raven. The last two must be Nessa and Vána, for they resembled their siblings in coloring, the first in a copper dress, the other in yellow.

“They are called Estë and Vairë,” Salmar said to him.

Abârôn looked at the Maia blankly.

“The two Valier whose names you cannot remember. They are called Estë and Vairë and are married to the Fëanturi. That is, Mandos and Lórien,” Salmar explained.

Abârôn felt the blood drain from his face as he realized that the Maia had answered a question he had not spoken aloud.

“Forgive me,” Salmar said quietly. “I did not mean to frighten you. Yet it is natural for our kind to communicate mind to mind rather than with speech, and the thoughts of Men are more easily discerned than those of the Eldar.”

“You ought to know better, Salmar,” Eönwë said sharply. “You fought in the War of Wrath and should remember that no Mortal takes well to having their thoughts perceived by others.”

“Those of us who did not fight on land with the Host of Valinor seldom had the opportunity to befriend a Man long enough to discover such things,” Salmar replied, sounding irritated. “I did not do it out of malice so there is no need for you to take such a tone with me.”

“I will use whatever tone I believe you deserve. You are fortunate you are not of the Manwënduri and under my authority, else I would teach you a lesson you would not soon forget. You have always been impetuous but what were you thinking bringing these Men here? You have aided them in breaking the Ban, and do not think Lord Ulmo will shield you from the punishment you will be receiving.”

Abârôn winced at Eönwë’s tone, still trying to adjust the knowledge that the Maiar could read his mind.

“Never has my Lord sought to shield me from the consequences of my actions,” Salmar retorted fiercely. “And I will gladly suffer whatever punishment our Lords deem necessary for me to receive. I have spent much time in the waters around Númenórë, Eönwë; you have not. I know that the Adûnaim rebel against the Valar’s authority but there are those still loyal to us and I will not be ashamed of my decision to aide these Men if it prevents disaster from befalling them.”

“Yet those who would defend authority against rebellion must not themselves rebel!” Eönwë said, exasperated.

“Bârimhên,” Amânzîr interrupted the quarreling Maiar, “While I find both of your arguments compelling, perhaps now is not the time to discuss them?” All four Men were staring at the two Maiar, forgotten goblets of Miruvórë still in their hands.

Salmar and Eönwë both appeared embarrassed for a moment, and then Eönwë grimaced.

“You are correct, I am afraid we forgot ourselves. Please forgive us,” he asked, bowing slightly and placing a hand on his heart.

“Of course. It is perfectly understandable,” Amânzîr said graciously.

“Is it?” Azruzôr muttered, and his uncle elbowed him in the ribs, giving him a sharp look.

“This is quite good,” Avalôbêl said, endeavoring to change the conversation. “What is it made from? I have never tasted anything quite like it.”

“Nor would you,” Salmar answered, just as eager for a new subject. “Miruvórë is made from the nectar of some of Yavanna's flowers. It is usually only drunk during festivals when the Valar serve it to the Eldar. You should be honored, for I believe you are the first Mortals to ever taste it.”

Avalôbêl looked alarmed at this and gazed into his near-empty cup with some concern.

“It shall do you no harm, I promise,” Salmar said, laughing at his reaction.

The Sun had set completely and it was now full dark. The stars glittered coldly above them, reflected in the dark granite that paved the Ring of Doom. It would have been difficult for the Men to see were it not for the many lights emanating from the City of the Valar. Abârôn wondered what manner of lights they were, for they did not flicker as the flames from candles and lamps did, but were steady and unwavering. Yet even in the dim light, the Powers seemed to glow of their own accord. Motionless, they did not even seem to breathe.

“I wonder what they are talking about,” Azruzôr muttered, gazing at the silent Valar.

“As do I, Nephew. As do I,” Amânzîr replied quietly.

---

Chapter End Notes

Glossary                                                                                   

Agathurush (Adûnaic): name of the river Gwathló (Greyflood). Literally means, ‘Shadowy river from the fens’.

Lond Daer (Sindarin): port founded on the estuary of the river Gwathló in S.A. 750 (then called Vinyalondë, or ‘New Haven’). It was the first permanent settlement of the Númenóreans in Middle-earth. During the War with Sauron in S.A. 1700, the port was used by the Númenórean forces as a beachhead. Lond Daer declined in importance after the War yet it was still one of the major ports in Middle-earth. Lond Daer literally means ‘Great Haven’.

Tar-Mairon (Quenya): the official name that Sauron was called in Númenor as the king’s adviser and as the High Priest of the Cult of Melkor. He was more commonly known as ‘Zigûr’ which is an Adûnaic word meaning ‘Wizard’.

Miruvórë (Quenya): a type of cordial used by the Valar and the Elves. It was the nectar of the Valar made from Yavanna's flowers, poured during their festivals in Valinor. The name ‘Miruvor’ refers to the cordial of the Elves in Rivendell and was likely a different substance than Miruvórë, perhaps an imitation that was named after it.

Valië (Quenya): the singular title for the seven Queens of the Valar. The plural is ‘Valier’.

Elentári (Quenya): ‘Queen of Stars’. A title of Varda.

Kementári (Quenya): ‘Queen of the Earth’. A title of Yavanna.

Fëanturi (Quenya): ‘Lords of Spirits’. A title given to the brothers Námo (Mandos) and Irmo (Lórien) of the Valar.

Manwënduri (Quenya): ‘Servants of Manwë’.

Adûnaim (Adûnaic): ‘Númenoreans’. The singular form is ‘Adûna’.

Bârimhên (Adûnaic): ‘My Lords’.

Chapter Five: Debate

Read Chapter Five: Debate

Chapter Five: Debate

“Men could not a second time be saved by any such embassy, and for the treason of Númenor there was no easy absolving.” ~The Silmarillion, Akallabêth

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

“What do you think?” Manwë asked the other Valar in ósanwe.

“They have chosen to follow the words of Sauron and they sacrifice their own kin. They will reap what they have sown if they come here seeking to war against us,” Yavanna said.

“Why should we endeavor to help evil Men? They have admitted those still faithful to us are few. The rest of their people worship Moringotto believing he should release them from Death.” Tulkas sounded disgusted.

“Yet perhaps we share some of the blame. Should we not have ensured that Moringotto’s lieutenant did not escape justice?” Aulë asked.

“The fault is not yours, my friend,” Manwë said gently.

“Yet he was my servant and I was responsible for him,” the Smith replied.

“We all lost servants to the Fallen One. None of us holds you responsible for Sauron’s actions,” Irmo said.

“Yet Aulë is correct,” Ulmo said. “Had we ensured that Sauron was bound with the rest of the Úmaiar these Men would have had no need to come here,”

“Do not be so certain of that,” Námo countered. “The Men of Andorë became cruel and greedy long ere Sauron came amongst them. Their envy of the Eldar corrupted their hearts yeni ago. Should we have mercy on those whom have none? Those whom are kind to the cruel will be cruel to the kind.”

“And what of those who have remained faithful to us?” Nienna asked pointedly. “Would you doom them as well, Brother? They are willing to die rather than worship Moringotto. Is it for their loyalty or their courage that you would desert them?”

“It is not for their courage or their loyalty that I fault them, Sister. It is their numbers,” The Lord of Mandos replied, grimly. “They are few and the majority of the population harbor malice in their hearts. They send their ships along the coast of Endórë pillaging and slaying the Men they do not sell as slaves upon altars dedicated to Moringotto. Their cruelty affects tens of thousands. Why should the many suffer when the faithful are few?”

“Do we not own them at least some aide?” Ulmo asked. “We were the ones to raise Andorë within sight of Tol Eressëa. Perhaps we should have foreseen that they would become envious of the Eldar. We taunt them with that which they can never have and do not understand. Perhaps some of the fault still lies with us.”

“There is truth in your words,” Manwë said. “If we were to do such a thing now we would certainly place the island closer to Endórë. Nevertheless, Men were new to us then and we did not yet know how their hearts differed from those of the Eldar. Yet they alone are responsible for their evil deeds. For they had knowledge of the good and the true yet they turned from it in their arrogance.”

“And in fear,” Nienna said sadly. “Men have always been more inclined toward fear than the Eldar. Perhaps because Moringotto managed to corrupt them so soon after their creation.”

“Be that as it may, what can we do if we were to aid them?” Estë asked.

“I would gladly go to Andorë and drag Sauron here by the scruff of his neck to stand in judgement before us,” Tulkas offered, only half jesting.

“As would I,” Oromë said. “But is this what we are truly considering? What if he sends Men to fight against us? Do we strike them down also? Sauron is known to be cruel and he may destroy Armenelos out of spite if he realizes he cannot escape. I do not think I could prevent such a disaster and retrieve him at the same time.”

“Oromë is right. Even if we were to aid them in such a manner we would cause more harm than good,” Námo advised.

“Is that prescience, Brother?” Nienna asked.

“Nay, ‘tis only wisdom, for I have seen nothing,” the Lord of Mandos replied. “Yet Men are fragile in hröa and if we attempt to curb Sauron’s strength through power we will likely destroy more than we save.”

 “If we cannot go ourselves,” Oromë began. “Then I do not believe Maiar would fare any better for Sauron is one of the strongest amongst them. I also do not believe sending more messengers to warn them would stop their folly, either. For who would consider our delegates if the Men do not recognize our authority?”

“If they did not harken to those whom we sent years ago they shall by no means listen now,” Vairë stated.

“Then do you propose we do nothing?” Aulë asked. “If we will not remove Sauron from power by force nor send messengers, what path is left to us?”

“Yet shall we forsake those still loyal to us?” Ulmo asked. “My heart forefends such unconscionable inaction.”

“Perhaps a compromise?” Irmo suggested. “We could send them signs instead of messengers. Mayhap their hearts will return to us. If not, they will at least be forced to acknowledge our power and Ar-Pharazôn may reconsider his foolish notions of war.”

“Do any object to this?” Manwë asked. When there was no reply he nodded. “Then we are agreed. Now we must decide what to do with these Men.”

“They have broken the Ban,” Námo replied. “We agreed when we made the decree that the penalty for such trespass would be death. Do we now seek to change our own laws?”

“You think they all deserve death, Brother?” Nienna inquired. “What of the servants, Avalôbêl and Abârôn? Should we punish them for merely following their Lords’ command?”

“’Tis no excuse of wrongdoing if one obeys orders that one knows are immoral,” Oromë observed. “If they have done so why should we absolve them? We did not extend such mercy to even our own kind when we judged those whom blindly followed Melkor.”

“The Ban was created to prevent Men from seeking these shores for their own protection so they might not desire what is not good for them.” Ulmo stated. “Yet they came here seeking our aid not out of their own interest. These are good and noble Men and I would fain see them returned to their home.”

“That is not possible,” Manwë said. “Never have we allowed any who have come here to return. They have broken one law and I shall not permit them to break another.”

“Yet perhaps some accommodation might be made for them here,” Nienna offered.

“You propose to withhold justice from these Men because you favor them,” The Lord of Mandos said.  “They are indeed worthy Men, more so than many of their kind. Yet if we do not punish them, Fëanáro’s accusation against us will hold true. For is this not the work of tyrants?”

There was silence as they contemplated his words.

 “Do we have the authority to take their lives?” Nessa wondered.

“They are under our purview as the Governors of Arda,” Oromë noted, frowning thoughtfully.  

“You speak of taking their lives,” Ulmo said heatedly. “Yet we would not consider doing such a thing to one of the Eldar without Father’s permission. These Men are not ours to trifle with,” the Lord of Waters declared.

“Who among us is trifling?” Aulë demanded, exasperated.

“Yet Ulmo is correct. Their lives are not ours to take. Beloved?” Varda addressed her husband, who sighed deeply.

“I will not ask for permission to take their lives until we have ascertained their guilt. Námo, you will act as Judge?” Manwë asked.

“Of course,” the Lord of Mandos answered.

“Heru Amandil, come into the Ring,” Lord Manwë commanded. Placing his empty goblet on the table, Amânzîr did so. His heart racing, he bowed once more to the Elder King.  

“We cannot help you as you would desire, Child. Your people turned their hearts from us long ere Sauron began his fell influence upon you. It has been twelve hundred years of the Sun since Tar-Atanamir first spoke openly against us and refused to heed the emissaries I sent to remind him that death was not to be feared. It has been four hundred and fifteen years since Ar-Adûnakhôr declared himself the Lord of the West in challenge to my authority.”

Lord Manwë shook his head sadly.

“Yet it is not only us your people have forsaken, Child. Were it so, I would be inclined to forgive you and render aid as we are able. But sixty-one years have passed since anyone last ascended to the Hallow upon the heights of Meneltarma. And before Tar-Palantir attempted to return your hearts to us, the Men of Númenórë had long neglected their duty and devotion to the One. Not since before the reign of Tar-Ancalimon has the offering of the firstfruits been regularly given to Lord Eru.”

Amânzîr’s shoulders slumped; he bowed his head in shame and defeat for the words the Elder King spoke were true.

“Do not look so downcast, Child,” Lord Manwë said gently. “For your embassy was not in vain. We have decided to send omens to your countrymen in hopes that they might repent from their evil and turn from the worship of Moringotto and their envy of the Eldar. Yet they must choose not to heed the words and devices of Sauron of their own will. For even if we were to remove him from Númenórë by force, I deem it would only increase the resentment the King’s Men bear in their hearts for us.”

“Thank you, Herunya,” Amânzîr said gratefully, bowing. “I pray the signs will turn my people from their folly.”  

“As do we all, Child. For all our sakes,” Lord Manwë said sincerely. “But now we must decide what is to be done with you and your companions for your violation of the Ban.”

---

Chapter End Notes

Glossary

Ósanwe (Quenya): ‘interchange of thought’. Essentially telepathy. Tolkien said that all of the Children of Eru have the ability to perceive other minds to some degree. Ósanwe is the Valar and Maiar natural form of communication; when embodied, even their ability to ‘speak’ mind-to-mind is diminished in force and precision. Among Incarnates, the Elves have a greater faculty for ósanwe owning to the strength of their bodies but even they need some sort of strengthening for such ‘mind-speech’ to be effective, such as affinity (kinship, love), urgency (need and emotion in the sender) or authority. However, no mind can perceive more than the existence of another unless that mind is open (láta). While ‘Openness’ is the natural state for minds, any mind can be closed (pahta) by an act of conscious will. A closed mind cannot be read, not even by a Vala (hence Melkor's and Sauron's need for deceit in their dealings with others). Any attempts to ‘force’ a mind create a sense of pressure and fear that only shuts it tighter.

Hröa (Quenya): ‘body’. Plural is ‘hröar’.

Moringotto (Quenya): ‘Black Foe’. The name Fëanor gave Melkor after he stole the Silmarils and slew Finwë. The Sindarin form is ‘Morgoth’.

Úmaiar (Quenya): those fallen Maiar that followed Morgoth.

Andorë (Quenya): ‘Númenor’. This is what the Valar originally named the island. Literally, ‘Land of Gift’.

Armenelos (Quenya): name of the capital city of Númenor, located in Arandorë, at the foot of the Meneltarma.

Heru (Quenya): ‘Lord’.

Herunya (Quenya): ‘My lord’.

Chapter Six: Defense

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. 

Read Chapter Six: Defense

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. 

---

Chapter End Notes

Glossary

Herunya (Quenya): ‘My lord’.

“…Yet I believe that all Men are endowed by the One with the rights to life and liberty…”: Most of this speech is either a direct quote or paraphrase taken from the Declaration of Independence, while the ending is from Martin Luther’s 1521 speech before the Imperial Diet.

Ányë resta Eru (Quenya): ‘God help me’.

 Hîr nîn (Sindarin): ‘My lord’.

Fëa (Quenya): ‘spirit/soul’.

Nimriyê (Adûnaic): the name of the Elvish language Quenya. Literally, ‘Elf language’.

Bârhên (Andûnaic): ‘My Lord’.

Bâr Amânzîr (Andûnaic): ‘Lord Amânzîr’.

Bâr Azruzôr (Andûnaic): ‘Lord Azruzôr’.

Anadûnê (Adûnaic): ‘Númenor’.

Adûnaim (Adûnaic): ‘Númenoreans’. The singular form is ‘Adûna’.

Chapter Seven: Doom

Read Chapter Seven: Doom

Chapter Seven: Doom

 “And were you so to voyage that escaping all deceits and snares you came indeed to Aman, the Blessed Realm, little would it profit you. For it is not the land of Manwë that makes its people deathless, but the Deathless that dwell therein have hallowed the land; and there you would but wither and grow weary the sooner, as moths in a light too strong and steadfast.’” ~ The Silmarillion, Akallabêth

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

“We must also decide what we are to do with Salmar,” Varda broke the silence. “His role in bringing Men here cannot be overlooked.”

“I am more used to this sort of behavior from Ossë,” Ulmo sighed. “Yet he did not truly disobey me for I never thought to forbid him from assisting Men in coming here.”

“Salmar knows you would not have allowed him to aid the Men which is why he did not seek your permission before doing so,” Aulë objected. “I have had experience with my own Maiar attempting similar things. It is a subtle way of undermining your authority.”

“I do not believe that was his intent,” the Lord of Waters replied. “Salmar has much love for the Men of Andorë and I know it grieves him to see how far they have fallen.”

“It grieves us all,” Aulë retorted. “But that does not excuse his participating in something he knows you would not approve.”

“I do not believe his rebellion willful,” Ulmo said. “Salmar has always been impulsive and it is unlikely he thought through the ramifications of his actions when he helped the Men.”

“Perhaps we ought to ask him. Or shall we continue to guess at his motives?” Nienna said with some asperity.

“I cannot be the one to question him for I have always been fond of Salmar. I fear I cannot be impartial in such an inquiry,” Ulmo admitted.

“Námo ought to do the examination, ”Aulë said resolutely.

“You wish to place him on trial, beloved?” Yavanna asked, surprised.

“What crime has he committed? Ulmo himself said that Salmar did not disobey him directly,” Nienna objected. “Why are you so quick to condemn him?”

“How many deaths among the Eruhíni might have been prevented had we more swiftly judged those Maiar who did not defy us outright but nevertheless flouted our authority?” Aulë replied bitterly.

Silence reigned once more as they contemplated the Smith’s words.

“Do you think we ought to place Salmar on trial, Brother?” Irmo asked.

“It is not my place to mandate a trial,” The Lord of Mandos said formally.

“No, it is not,” The Elder King sighed. “Yet we must needs resolve this. You will act as Judge once more?”

Námo nodded and with a thought commanded Salmar to stand in the Máhanaxar. The Maia walked into the Ring confidently, yet the Valar could sense his trepidation. The Men watched from where they stood close together in the center of the circle, silently observing the Powers. When Salmar reached them, he bowed, first to Manwë and then to Ulmo. When he straightened he held his head high and clasped his hands behind his back. When the Doomsman addressed him not in ósanwe, but in Quenya, his face went white.

“Salmar, servant of Ulmo, you are charged with rebelling against your lord by bringing Men of Andorë here despite our Ban. What have you to say in your defense?”

“Herunya, I deny the charges for never have I thought to rebel against the Valar. I have always been loyal to my Lord Ulmo since he accepted me into his service,” Salmar said earnestly.

“Then why did you assist Men in their breaking of the Ban?”

“I have observed Lord Amânzîr’s family for several generations and know that they are noble Men. I knew that they came here seeking your aid and not out of a desire to attain immortality. I hoped that you would indeed hear their plead for the Elendili have suffered greatly this past yén,” Salmar replied.

“Did you know your lord would not have approved of you aiding Men in coming here?” Námo inquired.

“I did not think about what Lord Ulmo would approve of, Herunya,” the Maia admitted. “I did not even intend to aid them until they entered the Sindanórie and I realized they would either perish or fall into an enchanted sleep if I did not guide their ship clear of the islands.”

“Then your defiance was unintentional,” the Lord of Mandos observed.

“Yes, Herunya.” Salmar hesitated before continuing. “Yet perhaps I am guilty of rebellion for I believe I would have done the same, even if my lord had clearly forbade me.”

“No one is held accountable for what they might have done,” Námo replied. “You are only responsible for the deeds you have truly committed. Yet do you regret your actions, now that you know your lord would have forbidden you from guiding their ship here?”

“No, Herunya,” Salmar bowed his head. “I am pleased that you have decided to warn the Men of Númenórë.”

“Be at peace, Ulmondur,” the Vala commanded, for all could sense the distress the Maia was emanating. “We do not require your repentance in this matter. Yet what do you think your punishment ought to be for your actions?”

“I…I do not know, Herunya,” Salmar replied, looking up in confusion. “I will accept whatever you believe I deserve. Yet I ask that you do not dismiss me from my lord’s service.” He sent a pleading glance at Ulmo.

“Fear not,” Námo said. “Your disobedience was not so severe as to merit such a consequence.”

Salmar bowed low to the Lord of Mandos and then retreated to stand next to Abârôn.

“Clearly he is not guilty of rebellion,” Ulmo bespoke the Valar.

“You are satisfied?” Aulë asked Námo.

“Indeed. He is guilty, not of rebellion against his lord, but of impetuosity,” the Lord of Mandos answered.

“As your discernment has always been better than mine, I will trust your judgment,” Aulë replied ruefully.

“Yet perhaps his rashness might be curbed,” Ulmo said. “If we could devise a suitable punishment?”

“We could have him be responsible for the Men who are to remain here,” Námo suggested. “It would be a suitable lessoning, considering the nature of his actions and his love of Mortals.”

“I agree,” Manwë said.

Yet what of the other Men? What shall we do with them?” Nienna asked.

“I do not believe they deserve death…” Námo began, then stopped suddenly, his eyes unfocused.

“What have you foreseen?” Manwë asked softly.

“They shall dwell in Aman,” the Lord of Mandos said, frowning. “Yet only for a season. Here they will fade and their fëar shall flee to my Halls ere long.”

“That seems punishment enough,” Manwë said heavily.

“Indeed,” Námo replied sadly.

“You will speak their doom?” the Elder King asked.

“If I must.” the Doomsman said grimly.

Then Manwë addressed Amânzîr in Quenya. “Amandil Númendilion, Lord of Andûnië. You have been found guilty of breaking the Ban we have placed upon the Men of Númenórë. For this we sentence you to death.”

Amânzîr closed his eyes and bowed his head. “Valar valuvar,” he said softy. “Yet what of my companions?

“We do not believe their breaking of the Ban merits their deaths, Child,” Manwë replied.

“Thank you, Herunya,” Amânzîr replied gratefully.

Then Námo stood and spoke in Adûnaic so all might understand him.

“You are condemned to spend the rest of your days in Aman. Here you shall wither and grow weary both in spirit and in body. You shall not long endure in the Blessed Realm. Even so, you shall be grateful when death comes and relieves you of the burden your life will have become.” the Doomsman’s voice was as forbidding as his mien.

“Salmar,” he continued. “You are condemned to look after these Men and see to their needs while they dwell in Valinor. You shall be forced to watch them as they suffer the consequences of living in a land never intended for Mortals. This punishment is to remind you to think of the ramifications of your actions, for seldom do those responsible for misdeeds see their effect upon those beneath them.”

The Lord of Mandos sat back down and the Elder King now stood, his face solemn. “Amandil Númendilion, come here Child.”

Amânzîr obeyed and knelt before Manwë’s feet, his head bowed. The Vala stooped down, reaching out a hand to cup Amânzîr’s face. The Man flinched slightly but did not draw away, clenching his teeth and fisting his hands in the fabric at the hem of his tunic. Manwë gently lifted the Man’s head until their eyes met and the Elder King could see the fear and determination in them. Manwë removed his hand, glancing behind Amânzîr to see the three Men gazing at them with anguished expressions.

“Forgive me, Child.” the Vala whispered to Amânzîr’s mind.

“There is nothing to forgive, Herunya,” the Lord of Andûnië replied softly. “I am an old man, prepared to receive the Gift of Men.”

“Even so, be at peace,” Manwë commanded, preventing the Man from feeling frightened. Amânzîr blinked in surprised as his fear left him.

“Márienna, Eruhin. Á lelya ayanen,” the Elder King said solemnly.

Manwë once more placed his hand on Amânzîr’s head, pausing to ensure the Man felt no distress. Then, with a single thought, the Vala severed the Man’s soul from his body so swiftly he experienced no pain. Abârôn gave a cry as Amânzîr’s lifeless body slumped forward. Yet, before it fell to the ground, Manwë scooped it up into his arms. The Elder King turned and walked out of the Ring, where there suddenly appeared a bier of white marble. On it he carefully laid the body, straightening the limbs and smoothing the indigo tunic and black breeches.

Finally, Manwë passed his hand over Amânzîr’s eyes so that they closed. He bowed his head, offering a brief prayer, then returned to the Máhanaxar. The Elder King sat heavily on his throne and Varda grasped her husband’s hand, squeezing it tightly. The grief the remaining Men were unintentionally broadcasting was palpable as they wept silently, gazing at the bier. Avalôbêl had fallen to his knees; Azruzôr had a hand on his shoulder with his other arm embracing Abârôn. The Valar watched them with expressions ranging from grim to pitying.

“What are we to do with Amânzîr’s hröa?” Nienna inquired, tears falling down her own cheeks.

“Why do we not place it in the garden that once held Míriel Serindë’s hröa?” Estë proposed. “My servants may tend to it as they have before.”

“That is well,” Manwë said. “It can always be moved later, if necessary.”

“Salmar,” Ulmo said firmly, for the Maia appeared nearly as distraught as the Men standing beside him. “Take your charges to a guest room in my mansion where they might spend the night and ensure they have something to eat in the morning.”

Salmar bowed to his lord and gently led the Men out of the Máhanaxar and toward the western gates of Valmar.

“We ought to have Salmar take the Men to Lórien,” Irmo suggested. “They may dwell there until they must depart from the circles of this World. Mayhap Estë and I can delay the consequences they will incur by living here. At the very least we might ease their passing.”

“Does anyone object to this?” Manwë asked. When no one replied, he nodded. “Then the Men shall dwell in Lórien. Eönwë?”

The Maia stepped into the Ring. “Yes, my Lord?”

“Would you mind bearing Amânzîr’s hröa to the garden where Míriel Serindë’s hröa once laid?”

“It would be an honor,” Eönwë replied, bowing. The Herald approached the bier and reverently lifted the body into his arms, then vanished.

“This council is at an end,” the Elder King announced wearily. “You may leave.”

At his words, eleven of the Valar disappeared, save for Varda and Námo.

“Yes?” Manwë asked aloud.

“You did the right thing,” the Lord of Mandos said softly.

“I know,” the Elder King sighed. “Yet I feel otherwise.”

“That is the reality of living in Arda Marred. For we cannot destroy all the evil Moringotto has sown and sometimes even Justice feels ill.” With those words the Doomsman bowed and departed.

“He is right, Beloved,” Varda said. “Come, let us return to Ilmarin. I had Ilmarë serve Ingwë without us but he is no doubt wondering what is so important that we must desert him on Valanya.”

Then the Ring of Doom was empty, save for the light of the stars and the rustling of the wind.

---

Chapter End Notes

Glossary

Vicegerent (English): a person exercising delegated power on behalf of a sovereign or a person regarded as an earthly representative of God, both definitions being true in the case of the Elder King

Eä (Quenya): ‘The Created World’. Also ‘universe’.

Eruhíni (Quenya): ‘Children of Eru’. Basically Men and Elves.

Elendili (Quenya) ‘Elf Friends’. Those Númenórëans who remained faithful to the Valar and maintained their friendship with the Elves.

Yén (Quenya): a unit of time used by the Elves equivalent to 144 solar years. Plural is ‘Yéni’.

Sindanórie (Quenya): name of the region on the outer feet of the Pelóri Mountains in Valinor encompassing the Enchanted Isles. Literally means ‘Grey Land’.

Ulmondur (Quenya): ‘Servant of Ulmo’.

Valar valuvar (Quenya): ‘The will of the Valar will be done.’

“…I am an old man, prepared to receive the Gift of Men”: We can’t know for certain how old Amandil is but there are some inferences that can be made. We know that Amandil is in the same generation as Ar-Pharazon because their father’s (Numendil and Tar-Palantir) grandparents were siblings. However, Ar-Pharazon was born in S.A. 3118 which makes him a year older than Amandil’s son Elendil, so Amandil must be significantly older than Ar-Pharazon. We know when Ar-Gimilzôr became king in S.A. 3102 he forced the Faithfull to relocate to the east of Númenor. We also know that prior to this the Elves gave the Palantîri to Amandil, meaning he was probably Lord of Andûnië by this time. Given how long the Lords of Andûnië lived, it is reasonable to assume that Amandil was at least a hundred years old prior S.A. 3102. This means that, by the time Amandil sets sail for Valinor in S.A. 3316, he is probably at least three hundred years old and is perhaps much older. It is not unreasonable to conclude that Amandil was over four hundred years old when he sailed.

Márienna, Eruhin.  Á lelya ayanen. (Quenya): ‘Farewell, Child of Eru. Go with reverence’. ‘Márienna’ is an archaic form of ‘namárië’ used only as an expression of farewell. Literally means, ‘to goodness’.

Hröa (Quenya): ‘body’.

Arda Marred (English): A term Tolkien used for the world (Arda) as it is tainted by the evil of Morgoth. The idea is that the world was once good but corrupted by Morgoth's rebellion. This concept is analogous to the Judeo-Christian notions of the Fall.