The Elendilmir by pandemonium_213

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Chapter 37: Gaillond

Captain Rinan and the crew of The Otter's Tale deliver Elerína, Sámaril and Sigilros to the haven of Gaillond, a seaside town near the mouth of the Baranduin.  There the port reeve and others welcome Elerína, the widow of a king and the mother of the king-to-be.  Limaerel, the housekeeper, shows Sámaril and Sigilros the villa built by Tar-Aldarion, but personalized by Isildur.  Sámaril finds that the many reminders of Isildur have an undesirable effect.

Rated R for sexual content.

 

 

Acknowledgements and such: Thanks to Darth for much under-the-radar nattering and generously allowing me to reference his canon (the black lobsters). Same to Surgical Steel. I give a quick nod to her Zâmin, the noblewoman of Umbar, who was Isildur's first love.

Gaillond is, of course, non-canonical (*faints from the shock*) but to me, a logical extrapolation: one would think that a port town might exist near the mouth of the Baranduin, which may have served as the waterway to Annúminas.  Gaillond bears reference to the Gloucester of New England and Wales. From Wikipedia: "In Old Welsh, the city was known as Caerloyw, caer = castle, and loyw from gloyw = glowing/bright." 

I also invoke the right of "translator" for the blatant use of Latin. Surely there were words in Quenya for the equivalent of a frigidarium and caldarium. I just don't know what they are, and Sámaril and his former mentor are of no help at all..

Uin the Great Whale may be found in The History of Middle-earth, Vol I, The Book of Lost Tales I.

Many thanks to the Lizards for the pickin' o' the nits.

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We drifted downriver for days after escaping the stroke of the Wind-lord's Finger. The Baranduin's course turned south, leaving behind the willows and poplars that crowded its banks, and gave way to marshes of reeds. Many birds dwelled there, some familiar like herons and kingfishers, but others strange like those Elerína named cormorants, birds with snake-like necks that dove into the water to catch fish, emerging to tip back their long beaks and swallow their flopping prey whole. 

Then there were the gulls. Some maintained that their cries aroused the sea-longing buried deep in the hearts of my people, but the birds did not stir me when I watched them spiral over the salt marshes of the estuary. The sea-longing awakened in my heart much later and through a very different means.

The river rose and fell with the as yet unseen ocean's tides, and the breeze bore the scent of brine. Its course widened, and to the west, highlands of granite rose beyond the marshes, but on the eastern shore, a line of trees loomed against the edge of the sky: that was the northern reach of the Eryn Vorn, the remnant of the great forest that had once covered Minhiriath. It was rumored that tribes of Men still lived there, a furtive hostile people.

Captain Rinan jutted his grizzled chin toward the mist-wreathed edge of forest. "The Men of Eryn Vorn are no friends to us. Like as not we'd have arrows raining down on us if we traveled near the eastern bank."

"The forest tribes bear long grudges," I replied.

Rinan grunted. "Can't see as why they do. My folk have done them no harm. They're naught but savages."

Savages treated terribly by those Men who counted themselves as the pinnacle of civilization. But I did not say that to Rinan, for he would not recall, as I did, Númenor's rapacious hunger for wood, a hunger that stripped forestlands of Minhiriath bare and deprived the indigenous folk of their homes and livelihoods. Worse, I also recalled how the less savory Númenóreans hunted down these native Men like animals. It was little wonder these descendants of the Minhirathrim harbored long resentment. We followed the western edge of the river, which continued to widen, and I saw no evidence of the remaining tribes of Eryn Vorn.

Two mornings hence, I rose from my bedroll and shook the dew from my hair like a wet dog, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and took in my surroundings. While I slept, the lands to the East and West had fallen away, and to the South, the sky met the water in a grey haze as far as I could see. The color of the water that lapped alongside the boat had a greenish cast.

The three men of the night's watch had already curled up on the deck to sleep out of the way from the rest of the crew. The door of the cabin behind me clicked open, and familiar footsteps padded across the deck. Elerína came to my side; she smelled of slumber, roses and mortality. How I longed to wake up next to that scent! We stood close to one another on the starboard side of the boat, gazing out over the expanse of water.

"At last we have come to the Sea, Istyar. What do you think?"

I breathed in the salt-washed air and listened to the sound of the waves sighing on the shore. Unlike the Sea of my dreams, an abstraction always beyond my reach, these waters were immediate, full of life, full of decay.

"It is...large."

She laughed. "Are you so taken aback that elvish eloquence has escaped you?"

"You'd have to ask a poet for his impressions if you want eloquence. I am only a smith who has just awakened after sleeping on a hard deck."

"Only a smith! Hardly." She sidled closer to me and lowered her voice to a whisper. "I promise you that you shall sleep in more comfort soon."

"I will hold you to that promise."

At Captain Rinan's orders, the crew set their muscles to the oars while Orvyn steered The Otter's Tale, hugging the coast in order to avoid the strong current that the captain said churned through the further waters. The boat rounded rocky outcroppings that jutted into the Sea; between their sheltering arms lay small bays where strands of sand glimmered in the morning light. Hills rose beyond the bays, and many gulls wheeled in the sky. The birds followed us, and Sigilros amused himself by tossing crumbs of stale bread to them.

On the third day after we had entered the Sea, I saw a wooden platform set high on the cliffs that rose above the shore. On it stood the small figure of a man. The crew, upon seeing him, unfurled a flag with the symbol of Annúminas' trade guild on it. The man on the platform waved back and brought a horn to his lips and blew it twice: its brassy peal carried across the water. A distant horn answered in kind from the West. 

"Who is that man?" I asked.

"He is one of the Watch of Gaillond," said Captain Rinan. "The port reeve will know we are on our way."

"What are they watching for?"

"Leviathans," Elerína answered. "The folk of Gaillond are whale-hunters. They seek the sign of right whales off shore. They watch for pirates, too."

"Pirates?"

"Yes, raiders from the southern seas. Not all the Umbarin and Haradrin mariners trade goods lawfully. Sometimes they just take them." The hint of bitterness in her words underscored her opinion of the Umbarin woman who had been Isildur's paramour.

From more wooden platforms, the Men of the Watch waved as we passed. The Otter's Tale rounded a massive headland to enter a bay that brimmed with the light of the noontide sun. To the West, another headland, topped with waving grasses, shrubs and stunted pines, formed the other border of the bay, giving the effect of a pair of rocky hands that cupped liquid sunlight. 

"This is the Bay of Gaillond," said Elerína.

"The haven of bright light. Aptly named." I squinted against the glare on the waves. Once my eyes adjusted, I saw quays in the distance. The headlands joined to form a south-facing hill where a town hugged its slopes. Houses in neat rows marched across the face of the hill. At its crest rose a stone fort with high walls. The westward slope of hill curved around to meet a ridge that arched to the headland where a beacon tower stood proud near the edge of the cliff. Like the stone fort, the tower was finely crafted with graceful lines yet possessed the distinctive muscularity that identified it as the work of Númenórean hands. Even in the bright sun, the beacon light could be seen burning at the top. At its base was a small cottage. Tucked behind a low rise and set back beyond the tower was the red-tiled roof of a larger house.

"That is the Súl-Barad," said Elerína. "Its beacon serves to guide ships into the harbor and warn them of Osse's Teeth - the rocks yonder." She pointed to the base of the cliff where waves battered black fangs. 

"The fort and the tower look to be the craft of Númenor."

"They are," she replied. "Tar-Aldarion built them. The Men of Númenor established Gaillond long ago, far back in the Second Age when Captain Anardil made his first voyages," she said. "Númenóreans settled here, but their blood has since become mingled with that of lesser men."

"With all due respect, my lady," Sigilros interjected, "the village of Gaillond was established long before your Mariner King set foot on these shores. I remember that little tribe from Eyrn Vorn who crossed these waters. They came out on the wrong end of a feud - someone's daughter ran off with the wrong fellow or some such mortal nonsense." 

Elerína frowned, but he cheerfully continued undeterred. "The couple fled here with their friends and followers. All were clad in the skins of beasts and paddled rude coracles. Most of us thought they didn't amount to much, but Gil-galad found their story to be romantic and quaint, so he gave them leave to settle here on the western shore. In return, they were to pay tribute to the king with a share of their catch and keep watch on this far reach of the coast. Cirdan's folk came here to teach them the arts of shipcraft, and the Men of Gaillond have become superb fishermen."

"Skills no doubt strengthened by Númenóreans," Elerína said defensively.

"No doubt," Sigilros replied, "but then again, they had much skill to begin with. The Men who settled here learned to speak my people's language fluently. That and Gil-galad's protection are likely the reasons the Men of Númenor favored them and did not persecute them as they did those of the Men of Minhiriath."

"The Faithful persecuted no one!" she retorted.

"So you say, but remember, I lived during that time. Not all Númenóreans were so kind. I have long witnessed how Men treat other Men, and how one clan lords it over another. It seems to me that the descendants of Lúthien, even those who have but one drop of her blood in their veins, set themselves above other Men." 

Elerína narrowed her eyes. "And Elves are not clannish?"

When I unsuccessfully stifled a laugh, Sigilros shot an arrow into me with his eyes before he bowed to Elerína.

"I'll concede your point, my lady, for indeed the Golodhrim are a very arrogant folk." 

Then I did laugh freely. "Never mind all your bawdy jests about the Tawarwaith!" I then sought a diversion before the prickly banter turned into a full-blown argument. "Say, look! What are those?"

Bobbing on the waters were large bubbles of many colors. When we passed close to a few, I saw that they were globes of colored glass encased in nets.

"Those?" Captain Rinan answered from portside. "They are fishing floats. They mark lobster traps. Gaillond is famed for the black lobsters that live right here in the bay. It's said the Sea-Elves prize them."

Sigilros' smile gleamed like the sun on the water. "That they do! Ghastly looking things, lobsters, but oh, they taste good! King Gil-galad established the Feast of the Black Lobster that is held in his father's honor every six years, and this year is one of those. I expect an elven-ship will appear in these waters very soon. I hope to catch a ride on it so I may visit my kin in Mithlond. In the meantime, I will enjoy some steamed lobster here."

An ancient stone quay extended far out into the bay, but there were also many wooden wharfs that stretched from the seawall that protected the village.  Boats of various sizes and build were anchored nearby.  We pulled up alongside one of the wharfs.  The crew drew in their oars as The Otter's Tale eased alongside the dock. Sigilros and I threw ropes to the dockhands, who secured our vessel and stretched a gangway across the wale. 

I offered my hand to Elerína who stepped onto the plank as gracefully as an egret. A number of people clustered on the dock; they bowed and curtsied when Elerína alighted from the gangway, sharply reminding me of her other role: the widow of a king and the mother of the king-to-be. A man, once tall but now bent, and his silver hair and beard streaked with black, came forward and greeted us.

"It is my honor to welcome you, Lady Elerína."

"Thank you, Reeve Cellorn. I am pleased to be here again."

"We remember well the times when you and Lord Isildur and your sons graced us with your presence. We are glad that you have returned but saddened that your husband and sons have not. Please accept our condolences."

"Thank you for your courtesy. I have fond memories of Gaillond, too." Sorrow welled up in her voice, but she quickly composed herself. "Now please allow me to introduce Sigilros who has escorted us from Imladris, and Istyar Sámaril, the master of Elrond's forges."

The port reeve's dark eyes swept over us in appraisal but otherwise, he was unperturbed when he reached to take Sigilros' and my extended hands. Obviously, we were not the first Elves he had encountered.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Master Sigilros. Istyar, I have not had the honor of hosting visitors from Imladris in my lifetime, so welcome.  We expect a ship from Mithlond to arrive before midsummer. I imagine you are both anxious to join your own folk."

"The Istyar will be staying on," Elerína said. "He wishes to learn more about the sea so that he might better know the Men of Westernesse."

Cellorn's old eyes brightened. "Then you have come to the right place, for we of Gaillond are descended from the sailors and fisher-folk of Númenor. We live and die by the Sea." He called to a straw-haired man with a sunburnt face who was overseeing the task of unloading our baggage from the boat. "Glimor! See that Lady Elerína's belongings are taken to Lord Isildur's villa. Istyar and Master Sigilros, I can offer you comfortable accommodations in the keep, if that is to your liking, although I understand your folk like to sleep under the stars."

"I have slept under the stars on the hard deck of a boat for more days that I care to name," said Sigilros. "I will happily exchange that for a soft mattress and a roof over my head."

"The Istyar will be staying at the villa," Elerína interrupted, "and Master Sigilros is welcome there, too, for as long as he wishes. You may take their baggage there as well."

"As you wish, Lady Elerína. I would like to welcome you with a feast, but perhaps after you have settled in?"

"Yes, that would be agreeable. Gaereth?" Elerína called to her handmaid who was surrounded by a clutch of women of varying ages. Several had the same copper-colored hair as Gaereth. "A word with you and your sisters, if I may." Elerína turned to me. "Go on with the others. I must arrange for servants to attend to us. I will meet you at the villa."

The dockhands carried luggage to the shore where bags and boxes were loaded onto the backs of three shaggy ponies. Two boys led the beasts while Sigilros and I walked ahead with Glimor. He led us through a reeking market just beyond the sea wall. Piles of fish lay on benches and in stalls where vendors held forth loudly that they sold the very freshest fish, their claims undercut by the stench. Sigilros inhaled deeply and laughed. 

"Ah, now that smell takes me back. Just as ripe as the market in Mithlond! It has been a long time since I have eaten a good fish stew."

"Not hard to find around here, Master," said Glimor. "Now Mistress Gaereth's ma, she makes the best in these parts. I expect she will be doing the cooking at Lord Isildur's villa."

"Then I will look forward to tasting her stew."

We left the market and made our way along a path that skirted the tidy cottages, all built of granite hewn from the rocky hills; some houses retained the natural color of the stone, whereas others were white-washed. All had window boxes where spring flowers bloomed with a profusion of color and fragrance. Youngsters of the village, rosy cheeked and laughing, trotted behind us.

"The Elves! The Elves are here!" The children's Sindarin had a curious but pleasing accent, the sound of óre softened to the point of non-existence, as they sang a childish rhyme:

The Elves, the Elves have come from afar

To dance on the strand and sing to the stars.

Lee to the East, lee to the West.

Who of the Elves shall like me best?

The Elves, the Elves have come over the Sea

To seek the jewels with the light of the trees.

Lee to the East, lee to the West

Who of the Elves shall like me best?

 

A little girl with nut-brown hair streaked with gold gave Sigilros two white daisies. Sigilros took these. "May Uin bless you, child," he said. He tucked one flower behind his ear and another behind mine. 

"Uin?" I asked while we walked along the path.

"Yes, Uin. The folk of Gaillond revere the Great Whale." 

Ahead of us, Glimor paused and pointed toward the horizon where the black hump of a distant island rose above the glittering waters. "Aye, there's a shrine to the Great One on Tol Uin. Ne'er seen it myself. Only the whale-hunters are allowed to go there."

We left the village and the children behind and continued on the path that turned and now ran over the ridge. Below I saw the sun glittering brilliantly on the waters of the bay, and ahead of us, the tower loomed high. The path forked, and Glimor led us along the right branch that dipped and rose through the heath. Soon we saw a single story house sited on a low rise with several cottages and outbuildings near it. 

The home reminded me of those I had seen in the finer neighborhoods of Annúminas. Like the cottages in the village, it was built of stone but of far more subtle craft. Clay tiles formed its sloped roof. Granite posts and a lintel upon which were carved the images of the moon in all its phases framed the entry. Waiting by the double oaken doors were a short, wiry man with a foxy face, his hair grizzled but his stance hale, and a dark-haired woman with sharp blue eyes, a small chin and a pointed nose.

"Welcome, m'lords," said the man, bowing to us. "I am Caraneg, keeper of the light."

The woman curtsied. "And I am Limaerel, keeper of this fellow here and the villa besides. Glimor, see to their luggage," the pointy-nosed woman said with authority."Take it to the antechamber for now. Where is the Lady Elerína?"

"She will be along soon," I replied. "She gathers servants for the household."

"Aye, a sound plan. My lady has arrived sooner than we expected. The place is still in need of airing out and a good bit of dusting. There's only so much I can do by myself," huffed Limaerel. "If you'll allow me, m'lords, I shall show you the villa, and you can make yourselves comfortable." 

She swung open both doors, and light flooded into a vestibule and across a mosaic floor, its colorful tiles depicting an underwater scene of reeds, fishes and strange creatures that I recognized as octopuses. This small room opened up into a much larger entry hall. In its center was a shallow rectangular basin, filled with clear water, with an opening in the roof above it. The tiny tiles on the larger entry hall's floor had been laid down to show falmarindi frolicking in the waves of the Sea. More doors opened to this large room, but we passed these by as Limaerel took us to the dining hall, the mosaics of its floor even more elaborate with scenes of waves, far shores and ships, and another of a battle between a toothed whale and a monster with many limbs that Limaerel called a kraken.

From there we stepped out into the bright light of a courtyard surrounded by colonnades. In its center, water splashed in a fountain, cascading from the mouths of three marble dolphins. Small trees grew within the protection of the sunny courtyard: some bore green, yellow and orange fruit, which I recognized as citrus. Several bedchambers opened into the courtyard. In the southwest corner of the courtyard was a newer addition: a bathhouse that boasted both a frigidarium and a caldarium with marble basins and benches. Like the rest of the villa, mosaic tiles adorned its floors. Pipes and spigots in the bath indicated sophisticated plumbing.

"Furnace isn't fired up," said Limaerel while we admired the bathhouse, "but I will see to that soon enough as I expect you'll be wanting hot baths. Off there for your comfort is the latrine." She pointed toward a room where a stone bench ran alongside a wall, decorated with a mural of a garden. In the stone bench were six open seats aligned side by side. I heard water gurgling faintly and assumed a sewer flowed below to wash waste away. It reminded me very much of the public latrines in Ost-in-Edhil.

"Lord Isildur was so proud of the baths and that latrine. He'd conduct business there. Why, even your own elven-king himself and his advisors sat there in counsel with my lord!" 

As Limaerel guided us through the villa, she told us of its history: "It's said that the Mariner King himself had the first rooms of the villa built, though he never stayed here himself. Some of the other Sea-lords made use of it from time to time, but it was our Lord Isildur who expanded it and made this place his very own." 

Limaerel continued to point out Isildur's touches throughout in the villa: "Now Lord Isildur ordered that the mural to be painted here on this wall. It shows Elendil the King's seaside home in She-That-Fell" and "Lord Isildur wanted a mosaic floor of Uinen and her ladies dancing upon the waves here in the entry hall" and "Lord Isildur polished the dining hall table with his own hands."

Thus Isildur walked alongside us from room to room as we passed through his villa, our footsteps echoing on the mosaic floors. When we turned a corner into a large parlor, I half-expected to see him there, waiting for us. But there was nothing but furniture draped with cloth and a fireplace, its great hearth cold and dark. Limaerel went to the windows, and one by one, opened the shutters. Light of the early afternoon poured into the room, and the brisk scent of the Sea drove out the stale air.

The hearth, meant to be the centerpiece of this room, drew me toward it. I ran my hand over its stones, grey granite shot through with black and rose, carefully laid upon one another and mortared with precision. Then my fingers came to rest on runes carved into a cornerstone: Isildur. He must have built the hearth at least in part with his own hands. 

"It needs a mantelpiece." I turned to see Elerína standing in the doorway to the parlor. "He never finished it." She turned to call to Limaerel. "See that the Istyar's belongings are taken to the lord's bedchamber." 

Limaerel's thin eyebrows arched at the order but she replied firmly: "Yes, my lady."

"And Master Sigilros has use of the larger of the bedrooms across the courtyard."

"Yes, my lady!" Limaerel bowed and left.

Voices filled the emptiness of the villa as the servants arrived, mostly women and girls, but one older man and two boys. One of the boys tended to the fire to heat the caldarium. Elerína made use of the hot bath first, and Sigilros and I followed to wallow in the hot water with blissful enjoyment, the heat soaking away the weariness of long days of travel. 

After bathing, I returned to my quarters: a large inviting bedchamber where the windows opened to the West. On one wall was a mural of the Sea at sunset. An island with a light glimmered on the horizon. I realized this was a depiction of the view West from Númenor, and the distant light was the Tower of Avallone on Tol Eressea. I ran my hand over one of the tall posts of the bed, constructed of dark polished wood, and its curtains drawn back. Creamy linens were neatly tucked in around the mattress. Two chairs and a table were arranged near the fireplace, and a small desk and chair sat in a corner. Another mural of Elendil's seaside garden graced the wall shared with the adjoining room. An archway had been painted around a door that must open to Elerína's quarters, a door that was shut.

Clean clothing had been laid out for me while I bathed, but I left the chiton and blue robe where they hung. Instead, I unwrapped the towel from around my waist and stood naked by the door that separated me from Elerína. She had sequestered herself within, taking a nap most likely. I pressed my ear against the wood of the door, but heard no stirring on the other side. It had been so long since we had lain together in privacy and comfort, and I yearned for her touch. I considered interrupting her rest, but I took the shut door between our rooms as a sign that she was not to be disturbed. We would be together later, I assured myself. Thus resigned to solitude, I flung myself onto the bed with its firm but comfortable mattress and promptly fell asleep.

The sun in my face awoke me. Judging by the angle of the light that streamed through the west windows, the sun would soon set. I dressed quickly, and again went to the closed door to listen for Elerína, but heard nothing. I wandered out into the courtyard where I found Sigilros. We sat side by side on a stone bench and admired the fountain's song. Shortly, a silver bell chimed, summoning us to the evening repast. We met Elerína in the dining hall where she invited us to take our places on either side of her at the long table of glossy red wood, polished, as Limaerel had informed us, by Isildur himself. 

The servants brought out trays of food, mostly fruits of the Sea, and carafes of wine. A red-haired maiden set before me a platter upon which the half-shells of some sort of mollusk were arranged. My stomach lurched at the sight of the things. The half-shells were filled with plump grey mounds of glistening flesh that swam in clear fluid. They looked as disgusting as Dwarvish lye-cured fish. Sigilros plucked one from his platter and sucked it down, followed shortly by a second. His happy slurps revolted me. Elerína saw my discomfort and smiled with encouragement. 

"They are oysters," she said. "Just try one, Istyar. They taste much better than they look. Squeeze the lemon on them."

Taking the wedge of lemon, I did as instructed and tentatively raised the oyster in its shell to my lips, avoiding the horrid sight of its quivering flesh. 

"Oh, go on," chided Sigilros. "It won't kill you."

Steeling my nerves, I tipped the shell, and the oyster slid into my mouth. I had expected a slimy horror, not the briny, fresh waves of the Sea that burst onto my tongue. I rolled the morsel around and noted the texture was not slimy but velvety smooth, and the lemon added an agreeable tartness. A second oyster followed the first in short order.

"Well?" Elerína said expectantly.

"I like them. The oysters taste like..." I slid a third into my mouth and savored it.

"They taste like the Sea and..." I thought of something that the flavor reminded me of but thought better of saying it aloud. Instead I sucked down a fourth oyster.
"And what?" 

"Oh." I mumbled before I reached for the fifth oyster. "The Sea. Yes. That's what they taste like. As I said." 

In all I consumed six oysters and could have easily have eaten more, but the next course was presented to us: tender spring lettuces dressed simply with walnut oil and lemon juice. However, nothing could have prepared me for what came next.

One of the maids set before me a ceramic plate with a red monster lying upon it. The thing looked like an oversized crayfish. I surmised this must be a lobster. I had eaten crayfish harvested from the eddies of the Bruinen in Rivendell, but I had no idea how to approach this beast. Sigilros was right. The thing was ghastly in appearance. I just sat and stared at its beady eyes while Elerína and Sigilros tore into their lobsters with deadly efficiency, cracking the claws and picking out white flesh to dip into small bowls of melted butter.

"Does the young lad need help with his food?" Sigilros grinned between bites of lobster.

"Master Sigilros, you are so wicked," Elerína chided him. "Here, Sámaril." She reached over to take my lobster in hand. "First tear off the claw and then crack it with the pliers. Just so. Then break off the tail."

Soon enough, I was eating the succulent sweet meat and flinging chunks of shell into a tin bucket. The crisp white wine served throughout the meal counterbalanced the richness of the lobster.

The sun had set by the time we finished the meal with strawberries picked from the garden that afternoon. Elerína had summoned a harper from the village to entertain us. The young man appeared decidedly nervous at first, but soon gave himself over to his music, playing lighthearted rollicking songs that spoke to life's rhythms in this village by the Sea. But then he launched into a ballad that became a lament for the lord of the house. He sang of Isildur's life, from his childhood on the shores of Númenor to his daring raid of the fruit of Nimloth and the perilous flight to Middle-earth. 

Elerína's eyes brimmed with tears. How can she bear this house? I wondered. Everywhere there is a reminder of Isildur. 

By the time the last note was sounded on his sweet harp, the moon had risen and its silver light strove with that of the torches and candles. Elerína wiped her eyes with her napkin and spoke, her voice clear and steady despite her sorrow.

"That was beautiful. Your song does honor to my husband." She rose from her chair. "Now I shall excuse myself, my lords. I am weary. Master Tinnulin, thank you for your music this evening. I shall summon you again, but pray continue. The Istyar and Master Sigilros might not yet be ready to retire."

"Actually, I am more than ready for that soft mattress," Sigilros said, yawning mightily.

"Very well. Mistress Limaerel will see you out," she said to the harper. The servant did so, handing a small packet to the young man, payment most likely. Gaereth, who sat at the far end of the table, followed the harper with her eyes. He glanced back at her and gave her a little smile. Elerína rose from her chair and nodded to me, giving me my cue to rise from the table as well. 

I made my way to my bedchamber where the servants had turned back the bed covers and lit a fire in the hearth. A linen nightshirt had been folded and placed on the bed. A pitcher of water and a basin for washing were set on a washstand against one wall, and I glimpsed a chamber pot behind a screen in a corner of the room. Centered on the table was a bowl filled with fruit. The servants had attempted to assure that I wanted for nothing. However, there was only one that I wanted now, but the door between our quarters remained shut. I disrobed, and setting aside the nightshirt, I lay naked on the bed and waited.

My eyes wandered around the bedchamber that had once been Isildur's, taking in the murals and above me, the timbered ceiling. I glanced at the shut door. Had he lay here waiting for her, too? Watching that door shut to him? Or had he reached the end of his patience and opened it, taking what was his from his lawful wife? I dismissed that. The love Elerína bore for him contradicted a man who would behave in such a manner. 

Still, the door did not open. Restless, I rose from the bed and went to the desk, wondering if Isildur had once used the pens and pencils arranged in the cup that sat on a corner of the desktop. A magnifying glass rested near the cup. I resisted opening drawers to pry and instead walked to one of the windows to open the shutters, letting the cool sea breeze wash over my bare skin. The moon rose high in the sky over the Sea and cast the waters into rippled silver: Isil. Isildur's house. Isildur's wife.

Hinges creaked, a tiny sound, but enough for me to turn about and see my love, her sweet body clad in a gown translucent as mist, golden in the light of the fire. 
I closed the distance between us in a few steps and opened my arms. "Come to me, meldanya. It has been too long."

She wrapped her arms around me and fitted herself against my body. "It has," she whispered, "but we are together now." 

Her kisses traced the curve of my neck; she ran her fingers through my hair. My lips found her mouth, eager and hungry for me. Our kisses deepened, our hands roamed, and soon her gown lay discarded on the floor. We made our way to the bed where we collapsed entwined.

Her touch, her scent, her loving words -- all should have inflamed me to become iron-hard, yet my body hesitated. Doubt twinged when I turned my focus to my cock, hoping to will it into life, but there was no response. Elerína said nothing, but knowing what gave me pleasure, she took me in her hand. Still nothing. 

She had no such difficulties responding to my caresses that found her silky wet cleft. She trembled and gasped at my touch. My fingers teased her at first and then pressed against her firmly as her passion burned hotter. 

"Not yet!" she rasped, her voice husky with desire as she angled her hips away from my hand. She pushed me back against the mattress and straddled me. Her dark hair fell around me like a curtain, obscuring her face, but I felt her lips trace the line between the muscles of my belly down to peak of dark hair just below my navel and then beyond. I sighed while her mouth and tongue caressed me, but her attentions did not have the intended effect for that twinge of doubt had now become a seizure. 

This had not happened to me for many years, and before, such a lack of response had been due to horrific exhaustion or the burdens of profound grief. My mind raced. Yes, I was tired, but not exhausted, and I was more than happy to be alone with Elerína. Why, then, did my body betray me? The cycle of anxiety took firm now took firm hold and sucked me down into its whirlpool.

Elerína looked up at me. "Sámaril?"

"I think I . . .I must be tired," I lied. I pulled her up to hold her close. She reached to stroke me again, but I thwarted her hand to spare myself further humiliation. "Let me please you," I said, kissing her lips that now bore my own musky scent. "Let me seek the moon."

"I would like that."

So I did, finding the crescent mark on her inner thigh with my lips and tongue before I sought her deeper secrets. She grasped my hair in her hands and arched her hips when I brought her to the brink. At least I can do this well enough, I assured myself, but I remained limp even when she shuddered and cried out. I let her subside and catch her breath before I brought her to a peak again, repeating this until at last she pushed my head away.

Sated, she brought me up into her arms and held me. "I love you."

"I love you, too." I pulled the coverlet over us when the sea breeze chilled our sweat-slick bodies. "I am so sorry . . ."

She pressed her fingers against my lips. "Hush, my love. Don't be sorry. These things happen. You don't always have to..." she paused. "What you did pleased me. Very much."

I hugged her closer, grateful beyond words for her understanding. "The taste of you. I know it now," I murmured against her hair. 

"What?"

"When I ate that first oyster, I said it tasted like the Sea." I ran my fingers down to the base of her belly and gently cupped her mound. "It was not only the Sea though. The oyster tasted like you." 

I brought my hand back to embrace her. She rested her head against my chest, her hair silky on my skin.

I felt rather than saw her smile. "An oyster?" she murmured.

She then sighed with contentment. Soon she was asleep. But I remained awake, my thoughts a roiling jumble of disappointment and worry while I listened to the waves crash against the rocks, and tracked the watchful moonlight as it glided across the room.

---

Chapter End Notes

falmarindi: sea-nymphs

óre: Quenya and Sindarin consonant for "r" as in "car."