3: Many Meetings

Númenórë, Second Age 3295, Yavannië 22:

The wind was blustery that day, sweeping along the streets of Rómenna like a proper housewife cleaning her front stoop. The early autumn leaves skittered across the paths of pedestrians and the tangy scent of salt water filled their nostrils. It was a clean, cold scent and Vandiel breathed it in with relish, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face. It never got very cold here on Númenórë, for the island lay far south of the ancestral homes of her people, but the ocean wind often brought less temperate weather during the winter and that was fast approaching.

Vandiel walked along the street of shops, idly gazing at the goods in the windows. She had done her shopping for the day and was making her way back home. She was thinking of stopping at a local inn for lunch when she spied a friend coming down the street.

"Ercassë!" she called out and quickened her steps.

The young woman in question stopped and waited for her to approach.

"What’s wrong?" Vandiel said as soon as she reached her friend, for she could see that Ercassë had been weeping, her usually fair face blotched and puffy.

"Have you not heard?" Ercassë asked in a whisper.

"Heard what? Here, let’s sit and you may tell me what has happened." With that, Vandiel took Ercassë’s arm and steered her towards a bench in a triangle of garden where a small fountain stood. When the two women were settled, Vandiel gave her friend a sympathetic look. "Now, tell me," she said gently.

"It’s Fiondil," Ercassë replied, her expression stricken.

"Your brother! What has happened?"

"He’s disappeared."

Vandiel felt a frisson of fear course through her. It had been happening more and more often, people simply disappearing. No one spoke of it, at least not in her hearing, but she heard the rumors and the gossip of servants. They were saying that more and more of the Elendili were being persecuted, taken to Armenelos, never to be heard from again. Sauron's influence over Ar-Pharazôn was increasing and the lives of the Elendili were becoming more perilous by the hour. She gave Ercassë a troubled look.

"Do.. do you think he was... taken?"

"I don’t know," the maiden replied, breaking down into tears again.

Vandiel took her into her embrace and rocked her gently, her own heart breaking. She had always been fond of Fiondil as they grew up and secretly thought that they would one day be married, though he had given her no indication that he felt anything towards her but friendship. She wanted more, but was too shy to demand it of him, and for the moment, was content with being friends, for she did not wish to do anything to jeopardize their relationship and she loved Ercassë as if she were her own sister. To think that Fiondil might have been snatched by the King’s Men to end his days in torment and despair was more than she could handle and she searched desperately for other reasons for his disappearance.

"Did he leave no word?" she asked. "Did he make no mention of going to see friends or taking a trip?"

Ercassë shook her head. "None. He left the house last night after dinner and never returned. Attû is in a state of fury, thinking he might have met up with his old friends and gotten drunk, but Fiondil rarely drinks to excess anymore and he has not seen those men in nearly two years. Ammî just sits there weeping. I had to get away. I couldn’t stand it there any longer."

Vandiel sighed. It had been a sore point with Lord Ardamir, that in a fit of adolescent rebellion Fiondil had made friends with the younger sons of those lords known to be sympathetic with the king’s policies against the Faithful. He had staggered in at all hours, usually drunk, and had been surly and disagreeable to all. Vandiel had hated what he was doing to himself and his family, but it was her twin brother, Valandil, who had taken his friend to task and had straightened him out. Almost overnight, Fiondil had turned over a new leaf, divorcing himself from his disreputable friends and becoming more responsible. Yet, in spite of this, Ardamir still did not trust his son and always suspected the worst of him. What Lady Yavien thought about her only son was anyone’s guess; she was not one to display her feelings for all to see.

"Do you think his old friends might have sought revenge on him?" she asked, fearing the answer might well be yes, for the persecutions had increased over the last few years as the king fell further and further under Sauron’s influence. Ercassë shivered and shook her head, not willing to answer either way, for it was her worst fear, that Fiondil’s past would someday come back to haunt him with a vengeance.

"What are you two doing here, looking as if you’d lost your favorite doll?" came an amused voice from behind and both women started.

"Valandil!" Vandiel exclaimed as she looked upon her twin smiling down at them. "Don’t sneak up on us like that."

"I wasn’t sneaking, sister," he said with a laugh, "and you haven’t answered my question."

Ercassë started weeping again and Vandiel sighed, her expression distraught. Valandil’s own expression became grave. "What has happened?" he asked, coming around to sit on the other side of Ercassë.

"Fiondil disappeared last night," Vandiel told her twin quietly. "He went out after dinner and never came back. We... we think he might have been... taken," she ended somewhat fearfully.

Valandil shook his head. "No, that did not happen, I assure you."

Something in his voice alerted the two women. "What do you mean, Valandil?" Vandiel demanded. "Know you something about this?"

Valandil stared pensively at the two young women. Vandiel was much like him in looks, her hair a dark brown, almost black, her eyes as grey as the sea. She was tall, as was he, and the blood of Elros Tar-Minyatur seemed to run more clearly in their veins than had been true of their family for many generations. Ercassë, too, had the blood of Elros running through her veins, though the relationship was less direct, being descended from Tar-Aldarion’s youngest sister, Almiel, whereas he and Vandiel were counted among the House of Valandil of Andúnië, being the grandchildren of Elentir, the brother of the present Lord of Andúnië. She was not as tall as Vandiel and her hair was a lighter shade of brown, almost auburn. Her eyes were more blue than grey and Valandil thought they were her loveliest features.

"Can you keep a secret, both of you?" he finally asked, his demeanor grave.

Both young women exchanged glances, then turned to Valandil almost as one and nodded.

"I will tell you, then, what has happened," he said, speaking barely above a whisper, not wishing to attract the attention of passersby, "but not here. Can you meet me in an hour’s time by the Fountain of the Elves?" He named a courtyard that was rarely visited by most of the people of Rómenna these days, but there was a tavern there that was quiet, its owner discreet. Both women nodded again.

"One hour," Vandiel said, speaking just as softly. Then she stood up and, pulling her friend up with her, spoke more loudly. "Well, brother, Ercassë and I still have some shopping to do, don’t we?" Ercassë nodded gamely and Vandiel gave her a bright smile. "So we will see you later, shall we? Come, Ercassë, let us go over to Almarian’s. I want to buy some more of that overdyed floss I bought from her last month." So saying, the two women gave Valandil nods of their heads before setting off down the street arm-in-arm with Vandiel going on about what kind of floss she wanted while Ercassë simply let her lead the way.

Valandil watched them walk down the street and gave a rueful shake of his head before standing and making his way along another street, this one more residential. He did not have far to go, as Rómenna was not all that large a town. Still, by the time he reached his destination, the bustle of commerce had faded into the quiet of well-kept homes. He came to one that looked no different than any of the others along the street. It was, in fact, a townhouse, three stories tall, and the only thing to differentiate it from the other townhouses along the tree-lined avenue was the symbol of seven stars and a tree carved over the lintel of the front door. Even that had been discreetly done, the stars almost hidden in the interlacing of branches. He approached the entrance and pulled on the bell rope. He did not have long to wait before the door opened to reveal the house steward who saw who stood there and gave the younger man a bow and a warm smile in greeting.

"Lord Valandil," the steward said, "how may I serve you?"

"Greetings, Hallatan," Valandil answered. "I wish to see Anárion if he is available."

"Of course, young lord," Hallatan said, stepping aside to allow Valandil to enter. "If you will wait in the front parlor, I will announce you."

"Thank you." So saying, Valandil stepped into the front parlor, a small room, sparsely furnished, used primarily for receiving visitors. "Especially the unwanted kind," his great-uncle Amandil had once said with a wink.

Hallatan bowed and went down the corridor in search of Valandil’s cousin. It was not long before he returned, gesturing for the young man to follow. "Lord Anárion is in the library," the steward explained.

When they came to the door of the library, Hallatan knocked once, opened the door and spoke. "Lord Valandil to see you, my lord." He then bowed the younger man into the room and closed the door, leaving Valandil alone with his cousin.

In contrast to the front parlor, the library was large and comfortably appointed with deep cushioned chairs and long tables for reading. Most of the wall space was taken up with shelves and in fact the room spanned the second floor of the house. The upper shelves of the library were reached by a beautifully carved wooden spiral stair to his left and joined to a wooden walkway that went along three of the four walls. One set of tall windows allowed light into the room and overlooked the gardens behind the house. A small fireplace was to Valandil’s right, presently burning a cheery fire on this blustery day. A couple of comfortable chairs sat before the fire with a small table between.

The occupant of the room had been sitting at a table near the fireplace, apparently poring over what Valandil could see were maps. Anárion, second son of Lord Elendil, was tall, taller even than Valandil, with the dark hair and sea-grey eyes of most Númenórëans. He was well-muscled and had the easy grace of a warrior, for he and his brother, Isildur, had been trained secretly in the arts of warfare by their atar. When the king had forced Lord Amandil and his people to abandon their homes in Andúnië and reside in Rómenna he had also forbidden the men to train in the warrior’s art as was customary among the nobles of the land, but Elendil had made sure his sons knew which end of the sword was which in spite of the ban. In that Valandil envied his cousins, for his own adar had forbidden him from joining them in their training.

Anárion looked up from his maps and smiled, standing to greet his cousin. "Valandil, it is good to see you."

"And you, cousin," Valandil said, accepting Anárion’s embrace as they exchanged kisses between kinsmen.

"What brings you here?" Anárion asked, reaching over to pour some wine into a couple of goblets from a decanter sitting on the table. He handed one to Valandil and gestured for the two of them to sit before the fireplace to take their ease.

"We may have a problem," Valandil said after taking his seat and a sip of the wine.

"What?"

"Fiondil."

Anárion raised an eyebrow. "So what has he done now?" he asked with a resigned grin on his face.

"You haven’t heard, then, have you?" Valandil said without smiling back.

Anárion’s expression turned grave. "Heard what?"

Valandil sighed. "He disappeared last night," he told him. "I just spoke with his sister. She suspects he may have been taken by the King’s Men."

"You mean those nûphî he was involved with?" Anárion asked with a frown. "Do you think his disappearance is motivated by vengeance?"

Valandil shook his head. "Where’s Isildur?" he asked instead of answering Anárion’s question.

His cousin gave him a puzzled look at the seeming nonsequitur and then his expression darkened into something nearing wrath and he stood up suddenly. "That fool!" he shouted. "That bloody fool!"

"Who?" Valandil asked wryly. "Fiondil or Isildur?"

Anárion sent him a withering look, then grinned. "Both, I suspect, but we knew what Isildur was planning." He sat back down and took a long sip of his wine. "You really think young Fiondil went after my brother?"

Valandil shrugged. "Rather coincidental that he disappears at the same time as Isildur," he said.

For a moment neither spoke, each lost in his own thoughts and concerns.

"What do you want to do, then?" Anárion finally asked.

Valandil let out a breath. "I think it’s time we brought Vandiel into our little group and if Vandiel then also Ercassë. They both deserve to know the truth."

"We have been reluctant to bring either in," Anárion reminded him. "Fiondil especially was against involving his sister..."

"Fiondil is not here to protest," Valandil pointed out to him, "and he may well be beyond all abilities to protest against anything we do or don’t do."

The stark reality of that possibility brought them both to silence again. What Isildur had planned was dangerous but Fiondil following after the elder son of Lord Elendil the Tall possibly jeopardized them both. Finally, Anárion nodded. "Tell them," he said.

"I will bind them to secrecy with the minor oath," Valandil assured his cousin. "They will not betray us."

"I know they will not," Anárion replied with a smile. He rose and Valandil did the same. "Where do you meet them?"

"At the Fountain of the Elves," Valandil answered. "I figured if necessary, I could use the services of Eärendur at the Harp and Torch."

Anárion nodded his approval, for Eärendur was their Oath-keeper. "Go now. We will speak again later."

The two men embraced and then Valandil was making his way out of the library even as Anárion returned to the desk with the maps showing both Númenórë and Endórë, resuming his studying of them.

****

Valandil entered the square were the Fountain of the Elves stood. This late in the year it was not running and the statues of the two elves that graced the center of the fountain looked rather forlorn. He spied the two young women sitting on the lip of the fountain speaking in low tones. They were not the only ones in the square, but the other people were apparently using the plaza as a means of reaching other sections of the town, otherwise the place was virtually empty. He could hear, however, the voices of men in the tavern to his right raised in song and winced. The song was definitely not flattering to the king or his policies. He would have to make a point of speaking to Eärendur about the virtue of discretion, which was rather ironic, considering the Man’s role in their little conspiracy. His grimace turned into a wry smile at that thought.

"You’re late."

Valandil’s smile broadened at the put-upon look his twin gave him. He bowed low to the two ladies. "Forgive me, my lady, but it was necessary for me to see someone first."

Vandiel gave her twin a searching look. "Who?"

Instead of answering, Valandil gestured towards the inn. "Let’s go inside out of this wind," he said. "I’ll explain everything while we have lunch."

Reluctantly the two women nodded and followed Valandil to the entrance of the tavern where he bowed them in. Stepping inside they found themselves in a large common room with a bar running along one side on their right and a large fireplace to their left. Stairs directly ahead led to the upper bedrooms and a corridor ran behind it leading to private eating parlors. The room was not full, but there were plenty of patrons, mostly men but one or two women. Valandil saw Eärendur approach them with a smile. The innkeeper bowed.

"Greetings, young lord," he said with just the correct amount of respect due to one of Valandil’s social standing even though Eärendur was actually Valandil’s superior among the Elendili. "Will you and the ladies be dining here or would you prefer a private parlor?"

"Greetings, Eärendur," Valandil said with a smile of his own. "A private parlor if you please."

"This way then, my lord, my ladies," the innkeeper said with another bow. He led them past the stairs and down the corridor to a door at the end of it. Opening it he gestured them inside. "Will this do, my lord?"

"Yes, thank you, Eärendur," Valandil said. "Will you bring whatever you are serving for lunch as well as some of your mulled cider?"

"Of course, my lord," Eärendur replied. "I will have your meal here presently."

"Good," Valandil said. "Oh, and Eärendur... I will need your other services later."

The two men exchanged looks that did not go unnoticed by the two women. Eärendur bowed again. "I will be available whenever you need me, Valandil." he said quietly, dropping all pretense of the solicitous innkeeper. Then he left, closing the door behind him.

"What was that last about, brother?" Vandiel asked as the three of them doffed their cloaks and hung them on the cloak tree that stood near the small fireplace where a warming fire burned.

Valandil, however, refused to answer, and his expression was just grave enough that neither maiden felt sufficiently brave to insist on an answer. Instead, they took their seats and allowed the warmth of the fire to slowly drive away the chill in their bones, though not that in their souls. Before the silence became too uncomfortable, there was a knock on the door and then a young serving girl entered with a large tray on which were loaded three bowls of venison stew, trenchers of bread and cheese, as well as a flagon of mulled cider and three goblets. The server smiled at them all but did not speak, merely putting everything on the table.

When she was done, she gave them a brief curtsey. "Is there aught else I may do for ye, my lord?" she asked Valandil.

"Thank you, Calinda," Valandil said with a smile. "We are well."

"Very good, my lord, my ladies," she said with another curtsey and left.

For a few minutes, the three of them concentrated on their meal, though Valandil could tell that Ercassë especially was seething at the delay. Valandil, however, refused to be rushed. He needed to think out just what to tell them and what oath to exact from them. He was also trying to figure out the implications of Fiondil’s rash decision to follow Isildur on his equally rash mission to Armenelos.

Finally, though, Ercassë had enough. She put down her spoon and gave Valandil a fierce stare. Valandil thought she looked particularly beautiful in her wrath. "What do you know, Valandil?" she demanded. "Where is my brother?"

"Safe," he answered, hoping he was correct.

"But where?" Ercassë insisted.

Valandil sighed. "He is with Isildur. They have gone to Armenelos."

The two women gave him similar looks of shock.

"Armenelos!" Vandiel exclaimed. "Are they insane? Why would they go where none of the Elendili are safe?"

Valandil took a sip of his cider, savoring the spiced drink, before answering. "I need your oaths that what I tell you is spoken to no one unless I give you leave."

The two women looked at one another and then Vandiel turned to her brother. "We promise..."

"No, Vandiel," he said firmly. "I need more than just a promise from you." With that, he stood up and went to the door and opened it. "Eärendur," he called out and then closed the door again, resuming his seat.

Vandiel and Ercassë exchanged puzzled looks but Valandil’s own closed expression precluded them from demanding answers. Only a couple of minutes went by and then the door opened and Eärendur entered. He carried a large blue leather-bound book in one hand and a sheathed sword, of all things, in the other. As soon as the door closed, the man’s expression changed from one of solicitousness to one of grave dignity.

"Do you require the major oath this time, Valandil?" he asked, speaking softly in Sindarin to the women’s amazement, all signs of being aught but a humble innkeeper gone. "If so, I’ll need to fetch the sereg e-higil."

Valandil shook his head, noticing the pale looks on his sister and Ercassë’s faces. "Nay, gwador nîn," he said, replying in the same language. "The minor oath is sufficient. I do not like to invoke the major oath unless absolutely necessary."

"That is well," Eärendur said with a sigh of relief, "as I hate having to record it. Every time I do, I feel...." He shook his head, unable or unwilling to say more.

Valandil gave him a sympathetic smile. "I know, Eärendur. I feel the same way whenever I administer it." He stood up and gestured for Vandiel and Ercassë to do the same. "Well, let’s get this over with so I can explain what has happened to Fiondil."

Now Eärendur looked puzzled. "Fiondil? Why? What’s happened to that youngster?"

Valandil gave the other man a grimace. "He’s disappeared and Isildur is gone as well."

The gasp of dismay that came from the innkeeper was telling and now Vandiel and Ercassë exchanged worried looks.

"You said he was safe," Ercassë accused Valandil.

"And as far as I know, he is," Valandil replied, then held up his hand. "Nothing more will I say about this until I have your oaths. You little realize the danger you have put us in by insisting on answers, but I hope to minimize the threat by bringing you into our little... conspiracy."

He gestured to Eärendur, who handed him the sword, while the innkeeper placed the book on the table and opened it to a blank page. He then pulled out a quill and bottle of ink from his apron, preparing himself to record the oaths of the two young ladies. Valandil moved over to the fireplace where there was more room, removing the sword from its sheath. He placed the sheath against the stone of the fireplace and held the sword before him, point down.

"You first, Vandiel," he said gently. "Kneel before me and place your hands on the hilt. Repeat the words after me."

For a moment she did not move, but then, taking a deep breath, went to her brother and knelt before him, the hilt of the sword between her hands. She gave an involuntary shiver when Valandil placed his own hands over hers. She looked up and seemed to see, not her beloved brother and twin, but a lord of Men, puissant and wise beyond his years. She found she had to close her eyes for the light that seemed to shine through him, unearthly and ethereal, little realizing that sometimes that same light shone from her own eyes.

"I, Vandiel Elemmaciliel, give oath unto my lord Valandil, that what is told to me in this room or elsewhere so designated, will be spoken to no one unless given leave to do so by my lord or those whom he hath chosen to speak in his name. May the Valar stand witness, they who sit upon the Thrones in the West, and the One who is above all Thrones forever. Á vala Manwë!"

She was weeping by the time she finished speaking, though she was not sure why. Valandil looked down on her with a gentle smile and brushed his hand through her dark locks to comfort her.

"And I shall not forget it, nor fail to reward that which is given. Oath-keeping with love, oath-breaking with vengeance." He then took the sword and leaned it against the wall so he could take his sister in his arms and embrace her, giving her a kiss on the cheek, before releasing her and gently leading her to her chair where she sat, still weeping.

Then he took up his sword and gestured to Ercassë. "Now you, my lady," he said with continued gravity.

Ercassë looked uncertain but when Vandiel nodded to her, she knelt before Valandil and repeated the same oath. Surprisingly, she did not weep, but it was a near thing. Valandil could see her forcing the tears back as she stammered her way through the oath. Only after resheathing the sword and then lifting her and kissing her gently on the cheek did she break down and start to weep. He then led her back to her chair. Eärendur, in the meantime, finished recording the oaths with a sigh and gave a sympathetic glance at the two still weeping quietly, before turning to Valandil with a wry smile.

"Even so minor an oath as this seems to affect people very strongly," he commented as he stood up. "I will have something stronger brought for the ladies... and you."

"Thank you, gwador," Valandil said with a grateful smile. "I could use something stronger right about now."

Eärendur nodded, collected both book and sword and with a brief bow, left. Valandil did not resume his seat immediately but stood before the fire gazing fondly at the two young women. Vandiel had managed to get herself under control now and Ercassë was following suit. When the door opened again, they were all relieved to see that it was Eärendur, rather than Calinda, who entered. Obviously, the innkeeper was taking no chances. He had a tray on which was a cut crystal decanter of dark red wine and clean goblets.

"I’ll send Calinda in in a few minutes to clear the table," Eärendur said. "That should give you a bit more time to collect yourselves. Do you wish for anything else at this time, Valandil?"

"Nay, thank you, Eärendur," Valandil replied, accepting the goblet that the innkeeper handed him. "We’re fine for now."

Eärendur nodded, gave them a bow and left them alone again. Valandil took a sip of the heady wine, welcoming its warmth and was glad to see that the color was returning in the faces of his two companions.

"Now, I will tell you what has happened." He took another sip of the wine. "There have been rumors out of Armenelos that Sauron has finally convinced Ar-Pharazôn to burn Nimloth."

The two women gasped at that and Valandil nodded grimly.

"We do not know if the king will actually take such a drastic step. For all that he and his court have forsaken the Valar, they are still just wary enough to believe that the fortunes of the kingdom are tied to the Tree. Destroy Nimloth and the destruction of the nation will surely follow."

"So what does this have to do with Fiondil and Isildur?" Vandiel asked.

"Isildur was determined to save something of Nimloth before it was destroyed," Valandil continued his explanation. "Anárion and I hoped to dissuade him from his plans for they were fraught with danger, but he was adamant. He determined to sneak into Armenelos alone and steal a seed from the Tree. Fiondil, when he learned of Isildur’s plan, decided to join him and watch his back."

"Why would Fiondil..." Ercassë began to ask then stopped, clearly perplexed.

"Because he has been a part of our little conspiracy from the beginning," Valandil explained with a thin smile.

"You mentioned that before," Ercassë said. "What conspiracy?"

"The conspiracy to which you have taken oath," Valandil replied. "No, do not ask anything more, for I will not speak of it at this time. Let us wait for Isildur and Fiondil’s return and then I will have Fiondil tell you what this is all about. It was, after all, his idea to begin with."

Now Ercassë and Vandiel gave him hard looks, but he refused to be baited and merely sat back with a smug smile on his face, sipping his wine.

"Who else knows about where Isildur and Fiondil have gone?" Vandiel asked.

"Besides us, only Anárion. Even Eärendur knows nothing or very little about this. I will have to fill him in eventually, but not at the moment."

"Why not Great-uncle Amandil or Cousin Elendil?" Vandiel then enquired.

Valandil shook his head. "It wasn’t necessary for them to be told. It is very dangerous for them now and they are under constant surveillance by the king’s spies. As it is, Isildur probably had a hard time leaving Rómenna undetected himself."

"So what now?" Ercassë asked.

"Now, you go home and give your parents what comfort they will accept from you. Lord Ardamir may think what he will about his son, but you know differently, though I doubt you can convince him otherwise. Stay silent and be watchful. If I hear any news, I will send for you."

Ercassë looked uncertain about it, but eventually, she nodded, giving Valandil a shrewd look. "You sound as if you are giving me orders," she said. "I little like being treated as if I were a girl-child still playing with her dolls."

"If I truly thought that way about you, mellon nîn," Valandil said softly, "I would never have exacted that oath from you or told you what I know." He stood up and gathered Ercassë’s cloak and placed it around her. "Come, then. I will have Eärendur have one of his people escort you back to your home just in case. There are too many of Ar-Pharazôn’s spies about for my liking."

So saying, he led her out after she and Vandiel exchanged farewells. While he was gone, Calinda came and cleared the meal from the table. Vandiel thanked her and indicated that nothing more was required. Valandil returned just as Calinda left and then he was alone in the parlor with his sister, who gave him a hard look.

"All right, brother," she demanded, "you did not tell Ercassë everything."

"You know me too well," he responded with a weary smile.

"We are twins after all," she replied with a smug smile, and he chuckled. "So, what is it? What are you not saying?"

Valandil sighed and took a sip of wine. "Isildur always meant to go alone. He thought that if too many people knew about what he planned it would prove dangerous for all, so he only told Anárion about it."

"But Fiondil went also..." Vandiel began then stopped to think things through. "Are you saying that Fiondil went without Isildur knowing?" she asked in disbelief. The look her twin gave her sent a frisson of fear coursing through her. "How did Fiondil learn of Isildur’s plan if our cousin didn’t tell anyone and for that matter, how do you know of it?"

"I do not know how Fiondil learned of it and I know about it because he told me and then swore me to secrecy."

"And you didn’t try to stop him?" Vandiel asked in exasperation.

"I have my own oaths to keep, Vandiel," Valandil said soberly and his expression was grave, though not forbidding.

"Have you not broken your oath by telling Ercassë and me?" she asked, sounding worried.

Valandil smiled. "Nay. I gave my oath not to tell our great-uncle or Elendil and I sought Anárion’s permission to speak to you and Ercassë. That’s why I was late meeting you."

"So what do we do now?" she asked with a nod of understanding.

He sighed. "We do the hardest thing in all the world: we wait." He rose then and took Vandiel’s cloak from its hook and held it out to her. "Come. Let us return home."

****

All words are Quenya unlesss otherwise noted.

Yavannië 22: Equivalent to our September 29.

Elendili: Elf-friends, those Númenórëans who remained faithful to the Valar and maintained their friendship with the Eldar.

Attû: (Adûnaic) Father.

Ammî: (Adûnaic) Mother.

Adar: (Sindarin) Father.

Nûphî: (Adûnaic) Fools.

Endórë: Middle-earth.

Sereg e-higil: (Sindarin) Blood-knife.

Gwador nîn: (Sindarin) My [sworn] brother.

Á vala Manwë!: "May Manwë order it!" An attested phrase found in War of the Jewels, HoME XI.

Mellon nîn: (Sindarin) My friend.

A Note on Relationships: In a discarded version of the Fall of Númenor [see The Lost Road, HoME V], Tolkien told the story of Amandil’s brother, Elentir, who was either in love with or betrothed to Míriel, the daughter of Tar-Palantir. In that version, Míriel became enamoured of Ar-Pharazôn and went willingly to his bed. Later, Tolkien changed the story so that Míriel was forced into marriage by her cousin and her name was changed to Ar-Zimraphel. In the course of revising the story, Elentir disappeared from canon altogether.

I have reinstated him for purposes of this tale minus the story of his love for Míriel. Instead, he marries Lindórië, a lady of noble blood. Their son, Elemmacil, marries Isilmë, a woman descended from the House of Elros through the second daughter of Tar-Anárion, and they are the parents of the twins, Valandil and Vandiel. Thus, Amandil is their great-uncle and Elendil their first cousin, making Valandil, Vandiel, Isildur and Anárion all second cousins to each other.