I Choose a Mortal Life by Uvatha the Horseman

The Summons

The waves lifted the bow and dropped it again, and sea-foam hissed along the hull. Salt spray stung Elrond's face, brisk and exciting. Above and all around him, the dome of the sky blazed with stars. Since the night before, the brightest of them had moved at least a hands-span against the background of fixed stars.

The ship had sailed from Lindon two days ago, at the end of March. Bound for Númenor, the island's highest peak should be just barely visible above the horizon at first light tomorrow.

His brother had sailed to Númenor on this same ship over a year ago. He wrote often. His letter described white sandy beaches, palm trees, a sea as warm as bathwater both summer and winter, and most of all, the satisfaction of building a house with his own hands.

The most recent letter was different. "Come to Númenor. There's something I need to tell you in person." It had filled Elrond with alarm.

Elrond had dropped everything to make the trip. He belonged to the household of Gil-Galad, High King of the Elves, and he had to ask leave to be away. And while a supply ship visited the island every few weeks, it had been reconfigured and no longer took passengers. Elrond had only been allowed on board because the captain had studied navigation under Elrond's father, and vaguely remembered the infant twins.

Elrond peered into the darkness. Suppose they passed the island without realizing they'd missed it? He worked his way aft, holding the rope stays for balance. The helmsman was at the stern, his hand resting on the steering oar.

"Where are we right now? When should we expect to see land?" asked Elrond.

The ship's captain answered for him. "We should have already. Don't tell the others, but I think we shot past it in the darkness."

Elrond's throat tightened. His father had been lost at sea. "If we have missed the island, how long would we keep going before turning around?"

"I don't like to admit it when I make a mistake. I'd rather just press on and see what happens." The silence stretched on, until the captain and the helmsman laughed at the same time. "Gotcha!"

An hour later, the sun rose behind their stern. Ahead, a tiny bump interrupted the horizon, distinctly more substantial than a cloud.

"See that triangular shape on the western horizon? That's the tip of a mountain, the highest peak on Númenor. Even at this distance, you can't miss it."

As the day wore on, more and more of the heavily forested slopes were revealed. Finally, a white line of surf stood out against the shore. A gap in the breakers revealed the entrance to the harbor, and at the back of the harbor was the new colony.