Chronicles of the Fifth Voyage of the Númerrámar: The Loremaster Arrives by pandemonium_213

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Chronicles of the Fifth Voyage of the Númerrámar: The Loremaster Arrives

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ca. 806, Second Age, Númenor

The captain of the Númerrámar watched the porters carry chests, boxes and cylinders of various sizes up the gangway. Nothing out of the ordinary there, he thought. But what exactly does the loremaster intend to collect in those cages?

The cages were not large, which was of some consolation. At least this fellow would not be capturing large creatures, although small ones might be just as hazardous. Captain Anardil squinted against the spits of cold rain borne on the west wind, eyeing the hooded figure that walked up the gangway; a scholar's hand -- fine-boned, white, and ink-stained -- clutched the edges of a grey cloak. The ship’s surgeon, Mairacarmo, joined him in viewing the procession.

“This is our naturalist, I assume?”

“I believe so, Captain.”

“What an odd assortment of equipment.”

“These loremasters are so often peculiar,” Mairacarmo sniffed, rubbing his nose with back of his hand.

"I daresay you ought to know!"  snapped Anardil, who, in spite of his acerbic response, had to agree with the surgeon: most loremasters were eccentric. Certainly, his interactions with this one had been unusual to say the least.

~*~

The loremaster’s arrival on his ship was the culmination of a long correspondence that Anardil had exchanged with this fellow, and yet he remained something of a mystery. The loremaster’s first letter had arrived shortly after Anardil publicly announced his intention to circumnavigate the world after his star-obsessed father had revealed the elegant calculations that described a globe, not a flat disk as many believed. The learned men of the court whispered among themselves, clucking that the heir to the throne of Númenor would surely fall off the edge of the Sundering Seas, should he dare to sail so far. However, none had the courage to gainsay the scholarly Tar-Meneldur, who was bent on seeing his theory proven correct, nor his adventurous heir, who was eager to set sail from the confines of the island.

The loremaster had signed himself simply as one “D. Toanehtë.” When Anardil asked his father if he knew of the Toanehtë family, Irimon huffed with exasperation whilst drumming his fingers on the arm of his large chair.

“Surely you know of the tableware and pottery that your mother is mad over?” His father’s stare pinned him, but when Anardil simply stood silent, stymied for an intelligent response to such an inconsequential matter, the king rolled his eyes. “No, of course you do not. You are too enamored of the sea to pay attention to such details, but they are critical details all the same.” Anardil stifled the response that his father was equally fixated on the heavens while Irimon stabbed the arm of his chair with his forefinger for emphasis. “Master Toanehtë provides the royal tableware, and now it is all the rage in the land. You may believe this is trivial, but Master Toanehtë is a wealthy man, and he endows the royal coffers generously. He has our favor, so I recommend that you pay heed to this loremaster who is no doubt some relation of his.”

Anardil took his father’s advice and wrote to the loremaster Toanehtë, who had described himself as a “naturalist.” The king's heir asked the scholar for a letter of reference and a description of his interests. Lord Hendëalo, renowned for his scholarship concerning all manner of flora and minerals, provided a glowing letter of reference for Toanehtë. Hendëalo went on to write that his erudite pupil might also offer stimulating conversation for Anardil during the long voyage.

Toanehtë himself wrote of his studies of the plants and animals of Númenor with infectious enthusiasm. More letters were exchanged between the king’s heir and the naturalist. With a fascination that surprised him, Anardil read Toanehtë’s detailed descriptions of sea stars found in the many tide pools along the shores of the island:

In the company of my dear Uncle Ránetan, I have wandered the shores, studying the creatures of the tide pools, especially sea stars of the kind indelicately named Uinen’s Nipples by the common folk. Most curiously, I have noted that the sea stars of the coast of Forostar, although quite similar in form to their southern kin of Hyarnustar, are nonetheless subtly different in color and shape. Furthermore, even within these regions, groups of these sea stars isolated from one another vary, their coloration taking on that of the habitats. It leads me to wonder if these creatures, which (according to the writings of Tar-Minyatur’s chief scholar) were of uniform type when Lord Ossë raised our fair land from the sea, have somehow changed, perhaps adapting to their environment?

Included in this letter were exquisite drawings of the sea stars and other creatures and seaweeds that Toanehtë had observed.

Anardil was enthralled. He wrote to inform the young loremaster that his company would be welcome on the voyage of the Númerrámar, but that it might be some years before the ship returned to port. He also wrote of the rumor of a cluster of islands where strange animals dwelt.

So it was, my dear Master Toanehtë, that I found myself well into my cups with Gil-galad the Elven-King during the Feast of the Black Lobster (which is celebrated every six years in memory of the King’s father, Fingon the Valiant), but alert enough to notice a most peculiar animal that took its leisure in a corner of the grand hall. The creature, which rested on a bare tree branch secured on a stone platform, resembled a diminuitive dragon, scarcely larger than a cat. In fact, that was what Gil-galad called it: niben amlug. Hardly an original name, but there you have it. When I expressed my curiosity about its origins, not having seen its like before, the King told me that one of Círdan’s captains had brought it back from a cluster of islands far to the south, where many more of its kind lived. What was most unusual, the King said, was that these lizards actually swam in the sea, unlike their cousins found on the mainland. Your posit concerning the sea stars causes me to wonder why these beasts swim and their land bound relations do not? Perhaps Eru Ilúvatar created them in such a manner for a purpose.

At any rate, I intend to raise sail on the sixteenth day of Súlimë, so I advise that you plan accordingly...

Anardil might have left it at that, but Lord Hendëalo’s assessment of his student’s erudition was borne out by the keen intelligence in Toanehtë’s response. His passion for the coming voyage, although for different purpose, matched Anardil’s enthusiasm for discovery of new lands and uncharted seas. Loremaster and king’s heir continued to exchange letters, their discourse diverging into other aspects of the natural world such as the stars and the courses of the moon and sun. The loremaster’s considered and clever responses further stimulated Anardil to write of other subjects: music, philosophy and poetry. In the most recent missive, the naturalist had written how very much he anticipated meeting Lord Anardil in person.

~*~

Now the moment was imminent as the cloaked figure stepped onto the deck and approached Anardil. The loremaster’s hood was drawn up to shadow his face, but he bowed with deference before master of the Númerrámar: captain and king’s heir in one.

Anardil spoke first, “Master Toanehtë, I presume?”

What happened next amounted to something akin to a wave foundering a ship in the midst of a maelstrom, but also like the first blessed sight of shore after many days at sea: Master Toanehtë cast back his hood.

Anardil gaped at luminous blue-grey eyes, a high noble brow, skin as perfect as the porcelain that graced the Queen’s table, and a cascade of golden curls that tumbled around the loremaster’s shoulders.

“A woman!” gasped Mairacarmo.

The surgeon’s audible shock rumbled through the rest of the crew with the deckhands growling that a woman on board brought ill fortune to a ship. Anardil silenced the superstitious rabble with one hard look, but struggled to keep his own startled response under control as expected of him as captain. Maintaining such aplomb proved to be a challenge when he gazed upon the attractive form that contained such a brilliant mind. Applying all the courtesy he had learned in the court of his father, he extended his hand to clasp the loremaster’s delicate fingers. He raised Toanehtë’s graceful hand and grazed her soft skin with his lips.

“It is my great pleasure that we meet at last, my lady…that is to say, Master Toanehtë. My very great pleasure.” Anardil was further gratified to see that this learned young woman neither blushed nor simpered, but answered in a most straightforward manner:

“I am honored, my Lord Anardil. And please, you must call me by my given name.”

“And that is?”

“Darwen, my lord. I am Darwen Toanehtë.”

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Chapter End Notes

 

Númerrámar: “West-wings,” a canonical ship of Númenor.

Anardil: Tar-Aldarion

Irimon: Tar-Meneldur

The following names provided through Darth Fingon's Quenya name generator except for "Darwen" which Darth suggested as an "I dare you." So I did. >:^)

Toanehtë: from toa - wood; nehtë - wedge. A nod to “Wedgwood.” The Wedgwood and Darwin families were long connected.

Mairacarmo -- an allusion to Robert McCormick, the surgeon aboard the H.M.S. Beagle.

Hendëalo -- a Númenórean equivalent of John Stevens Henslow, a botanist, mineralogist and clergyman who was Charles Darwin’s mentor.

Ránetan -- something of a stretch but refers to Robert Edmond Grant, a Lamarckian evolutionist. He was one of Darwin’s teachers, and took the budding young naturalist with him to collect marine specimens along the shore.

Darwen -- that should be obvious.

If this seems incomplete, it is. GA and I hope to collaborate on Loremaster Darwen's voyage and the observations and discoveries that lead her to formulate a theory that rocks the foundations of Imbar.