7: Voyage to Khibîlhazid

Their plan went forward with little trouble. Lord Ardamir was somewhat reluctant to allow Ercassë to leave the house, but he did not have any reason to forbid her going. Beside the fact that Lady Vandiel was his daughter’s closest friend, she and Lord Valandil were close kin to Lord Amandil, his own overlord. Lord Valandil’s patronage, therefore, was not to be despised nor his wishes ignored. So, Ercassë arrived shortly before the noon meal and while she and Vandiel finished up with the packing, Valandil showed Laurendil how he might leave the house unseen while the three Númenórëans took a more visible route.

"There is a tunnel that leads under the garden and debouches near the quays," Valandil explained to Laurendil as the two of them sat in the library pouring over maps of Númenórë and more specifically, a floor plan of the townhouse that showed the tunnel. "You can leave the house from there and meet us at the quay."

"How do you intend for us to reach Khibîlhazid?" Laurendil asked, studying the maps.

Valandil pointed to the map of Rómenna indicating a firth just to the northeast of the haven. "We could go by horse and carriage, though in doing so we will end up having unwanted company," Valandil said with a wry grin and Laurendil grinned back, knowing full well what the young Mortal meant. "Instead we can take an alternate route. My family owns a yacht. It’s tied to the quay that is just where the tunnel opens up. I will make sure only my people are there to help you into the boat unseen. Once we’re all aboard, we will set sail." He tapped the map. "This firth extends well inland in a northwest-southeast direction. It’s rather narrow, more like a gorge, but it shallows out the further inland you go. There’s a good landing stage at the head of the firth where we can acquire horses and continue on our way. Going to Khibîlhazid in this manner is typical. No one will comment on it. The beauty of this route is that there is no way anyone can follow us without us knowing it."

Laurendil nodded. "It is well, then. How long will it take to reach the lodge?"

Valandil shrugged. "If all goes well, we will reach the lodge around sunset. I’ve sent some of my people ahead to prepare the place for us." He gave the Elf-lord a wry grin. "Too bad we won’t really be staying. It’s rather a good place for bird-watching and the hot springs are quite relaxing. I haven’t been there for several years now."

Laurendil gave him a small smile. "Perhaps when this is all over you can take your sister and your friends there and stay for a time."

"Perhaps," Valandil said doubtfully, "although it’s getting colder and in another month no one will bother to go there." He shrugged. "Best to wait and see what happens first. Fiondil is what is important now."

"You are correct, youngling," Laurendil agreed. "Your friend’s safety is paramount. I only hope we are in time. I know full well the fate of those among the Elendili who are caught by the king and... and Sauron." He grimaced at the name and Valandil had the distinct feeling that there was more to it than just general distaste for speaking Zigûr’s name.

"Well, as to that," Valandil said with a sigh, "we won’t know until we get to Armenelos."

****

"You should arrive at the quay before us," Valandil said to Laurendil as they were about to depart. They were standing before the hidden panel in the library that opened onto a set of stairs leading down towards the tunnel. "When you get to the other end, someone will be there to see you safely aboard our boat. We should be along soon after."

Laurendil nodded, gave the young Mortal a brief embrace and smile and, taking the lit torch that Valandil handed him, made his way down the stairs. Only when he reached the bottom did Valandil close the panel behind him.

The tunnel proved to be dry and well made, the walls brick-lined, the ceiling shored up with heavy beams. Even the floor was smooth with a paving of slate. Rather than encumbering himself with his rucksack, that was safely stowed away with the other supplies that were taken to the yacht earlier. He grinned at the memory of Vandiel with her ankle neatly wrapped and her face artfully made up to look as if she’d received some bruising in her fall. Ercassë had snickered at the look of disbelief that Valandil had given his sister and Laurendil had had to hide a smile when he noticed the house steward, Mardil, rolling his eyes.

According to Valandil, the tunnel was less than a third of a league in length and it did not take him long to reach the end. He’d been assured that other Elendili would be there but he was glad that the door at the end of the tunnel had a peephole that allowed him to view his surroundings before committing himself to stepping outside. Looking through the peephole he saw only a single Mortal standing just before the boat that was moored at the end of the quay. He was wrapped in a nondescript cloak with the hood up. The Man turned his head slightly towards the tunnel entrance and Laurendil was relieved to recognize Elendil’s younger son, Anárion.

He found the latch as Valandil had described it and cautiously opened the door, extinguishing the torch as he did so. He saw Anárion walk casually towards him and taking a quick look around gestured to him. Laurendil stepped out of the tunnel.

"Welcome, my lord," Anárion said in a low voice. Laurendil acknowledged the Mortal’s greeting with a nod then turned to assure that the tunnel entrance was concealed. He was surprised to find that even on this side it appeared to be an actual door and gave Anárion a quizzical look which Anárion returned with a grin.

"Hide in plain sight," Anárion said, pointing to several other similar doors situated along a bluff overlooking the bay. "But if you check, you will find that the knob of this door does not turn. To access the tunnel from this side, one needs the proper key. These other doors, however, are real enough and lead into storerooms for sailing and fishing gear."

Laurendil nodded his understanding, pleased at the cleverness, indeed the very deviousness of the Men who had designed the secret tunnel. Almost elvish, he thought with a smile and quickly followed Anárion along the quay towards the yacht. It was not very large, perhaps not more than sixty feet in length with a beam of about thirty feet with a shoal-draft. It seemed unlikely then, that the yacht was ever used to sail beyond the safety of the haven into the open sea. Neatly painted on the side of the boat was the name Uinéniel.

"I am surprised to see you acting as my guide, Lord Anárion," Laurendil said as they reached the gangplank and made their way aboard. There were no others around the quay and Laurendil wondered vaguely how they had managed it, but assumed that Lord Amandil was just powerful enough to assure complete privacy if needed.

Anárion shrugged and gave the Elf-lord a wry grin. "If the situation were not so grave with my brother, I would have liked to have joined you in your adventure," the younger son of Elendil confessed. "As it is, this is as close to it as I can come and I will do what I can to aid you and my cousins." His smile left him and he gave Laurendil a grim look. "Fiondil is a good friend to me and Isildur. We rather look upon him and Ercassë as if they were our cousins as well. It would grieve us all if Fiondil were to end his days as a sacrifice to Zigûr’s hatred for the Elendili."

Laurendil nodded. "I understand and I thank you for your aid."

He looked with interest as Anárion showed him around while they were waiting for the others to arrive. "There are usually two crewmen," Anárion explained. "Their berths are fore. Between their berths and the salon and galley are two suites. I suspect you and Valandil will share one while the two maidens will share the other."

Laurendil had little experience with boats or ships of any kind. He had not been in a position when he set sail to Aman earlier in the Second Age to appreciate Círdan’s workmanship, as wounded in spirit and in need of healing as he had been, though he did not realize it at the time. Even during his time in Tol Eressëa he had tended to avoid the havens of Avallonë and Tavrobel, preferring to live in Kortirion. When he had returned to Tol Eressëa to take ship to Númenórë, he had not spent much time exploring the ship which Lord Ulmo had had built to the Lord of Water’s specifications for Laurendil’s exclusive use. He had spent the majority of the voyage in meditation, contemplating the mission given him.

"It appears to be well-kept," Laurendil said as they came back on deck after Anárion had shown him the cabins below. He was not sure if that was the proper term to use for a boat, but did not know how else to say it.

Anárion nodded. "Valandil is an avid sailor, though not as much of one as Tar-Aldarion," he said with a chuckle. Laurendil smiled, and nodded, though he knew little about the history of the island. He had been given a brief summary of the history of the Line of Elros, so was at least familiar with the name, if nothing else. "Ah," Anárion said, looking up, "they’re coming." He pointed towards the north side of the bay and Laurendil’s elvish eyes saw a rather interesting sight that nearly made him laugh aloud.

Valandil and Vandiel had apparently decided to make a spectacle of their departure. Valandil had hired an open carriage for his sister and Ercassë. Laurendil wasn’t sure why an open carriage until he noticed Vandiel playing the ill-tempered invalid for all she was worth. His superior hearing had picked up her ranting at Valandil while Ercassë attempted to soothe her friend. Valandil did a very good job of being the put-upon brother who was only trying to do what was best for his sister as he rode beside the carriage on a bay horse.

"The hot springs will do you good, sister," he heard Valandil say in an exasperated tone, his features darkening towards barely suppressed fury, though Laurendil could almost see the twinkle of amusement in the young Man’s eyes even from this distance.

"But I don’t want to go to Khibîlhazid!" Vandiel fairly screamed. "There’s nothing to do there except sit in a pool of hot water!"

"Which is the whole point, Vandiel," Valandil stated, gritting his teeth. "Healer Imrahil said you were not to do anything until your ankle healed. And the waters will help with that."

"But I can do that just as easily here," she protested.

"You’re the one who’s been nagging at me to take you to Khibîlhazid," Valandil said with a scowl. "Now that I’m taking you, you don’t want to go. Honestly, Vandiel, make up your mind."

By now the procession, joined by amused bystanders, had reached the quay. Anárion had quietly suggested that Laurendil go below deck so that none would know he was there and the Elf complied, standing just inside the hatchway so he could continue watching the show. Anárion, in the meantime, doffed his cloak and strode to the gangplank.

"Ah," he said aloud over Vandiel’s continued protestations, "I see you’ve arrived in good time, Cousins. The yacht is all ready for you." He gestured and two Men came aft from where they had been working on some lines and went to help Valandil with Vandiel who had quieted down but still looked mulish. From his vantage point, Laurendil could see Ercassë’s face and chuckled at the maiden trying hard not to laugh and spoil everything. Her eyes were bright with amusement even as she pretended to try to comfort her friend. The Elf suspected that once all were aboard and the yacht safely away there were going to be gales of laughter from the three young Mortals.

In due course, all were aboard. Anárion bade his cousins a fond farewell and followed the servants who had come with their baggage down the gangplank. "Safe journey," he said, "and Vandiel, I hope when you return it will be in a better mood."

"When Beleriand rises again," Laurendil heard her mutter darkly and everyone laughed. Orders were given and the yacht was released from its mooring. The sails were raised and soon they were away. Laurendil remained below deck until Valandil poked his head through the doorway with a wide grin on his face. "All clear," he said. "If you stay to starboard, no one on shore will be able to see you."

Laurendil nodded and came up on deck. Vandiel and Ercassë were ensconced in comfortable lounge chairs with blankets wrapped about them. In spite of the warm sun, the air was decidedly cooler out on the bay. He looked about to see that the yacht was making its way across the bay, keeping well away from other boats. He decided it would be wise to keep his hood up, at least until they had cleared the haven and were heading out into the bay where few would be able to see him. He glanced across the waters and saw they were fast approaching a small isle set in the middle of the bay that Laurendil knew had been put there by Uinen, the Lady of the Sea, herself. The yacht was moving windward to the island, thus effectively putting the island between them and the shore. He saw a tall tower built on its rocky ground, shining white in the late afternoon sun.

"That’s the Calmindon," Valandil said, noticing where Laurendil’s eyes had wandered. "Tar-Aldarion had it built," he explained, "as well as the seawalls that protect the bay."

Laurendil nodded and watched with interest as the seagulls screamed around the tower. He remembered how the sound of these seabirds had sent him into paroxysms of rage and denial, sending him deep into the wilds of Eriador, eventually across the Misty Mountains into the Silvan haven of Lórinand. Only, he mused wryly to himself, that had not worked. The calling of the gulls had invaded his dreams and haunted his waking moments. Finally, King Amroth had practically ordered him and Manwen to return to Lindon and take ship. He had hated the elven king then, but not now. Now he felt only gratitude for Amroth’s wisdom and caring.

The yacht continued round the island. Valandil had taken the helm from his first mate, Beregar, and Laurendil marveled at the easy competence with which the young Mortal handled the boat. The two crewmen, some years older than Valandil, went about their tasks in silence, the silence of long-time friends who did not need to fill the space between them with idle words. Valandil, in fact, seemed to treat the two Men more as if they were older brothers rather than his crew.

"So, Beregar," Valandil called out as he shifted the wheel slightly, forcing the boat to keel to port as it came round the final point of Tol Uinen, heading directly for the firth that would lead to Khibîlhazid, "have you finally asked Núneth for her hand in marriage, or must I be condemned to never seeing you wed and bed her?"

Laurendil saw Vandiel and Ercassë exchange amused looks as Beregar reddened slightly and laughed, along with his mate, whose name Laurendil had learned was Orchaldor. It was he who answered Valandil’s query. "Why Captain, did you not hear?" the older Man said, giving Valandil a wink. "Beregar actually bought the betrothal rings, but he’s suddenly gotten cold feet and has yet to ask the fair Núneth."

Valandil gave Beregar a considering look, even as he continued to steer the boat towards the northern shore. "Is that true, Beregar?"

"Aye, Captain," the man said, turning even redder than before. "I purchased the rings only the other day, but I’ve not had time to ask Núneth. Her attû decided to visit his holdings in Hyarrostorni and she’s gone with him."

"Ah, pity," was the only comment Valandil made. "Orchaldor, prepare to bring her about," he ordered and for the next several minutes the three Men were busy tacking the sails to catch the wind as Valandil competently brought the boat into the firth.

The firth was indeed narrow, the cliffs sheer as they passed the headlands and entered the calm waters. The sails slackened slightly, but Valandil appeared to be too savvy a sailor to be caught out and quickly maneuvered the boat to catch the wind once again and they continued sailing up the gorge. As soon as the haven of Rómenna was hidden from view, Vandiel stood up with a sigh, reached down and untied the bandages that swathed her left ankle. She turned to Ercassë. "Come, let us retire for the nonce. I wish to remove this ridiculous looking face paint. It’s served its purpose."

Ercassë agreed and in minutes the upper deck was left to three Men and one Elf. Valandil motioned for Laurendil to join him at the wheel. "Would you like to steer her, my lord?" the young Man asked.

Laurendil gave the Mortal a surprised look and felt something like a thrill course through him. It wasn’t quite excitement but something deeper. "I have no experience with boats or the steering of them," he admitted.

Valandil gave the Elf-lord a wide grin. "Don’t worry. If you do anything stupid, we all know how to swim."

Laurendil could not help but laugh at Valandil’s quip. "That’s easy for you to say, youngling, but I never learned."

Now it was Valandil’s turn to look surprised. "What!?"

Dimly Laurendil noticed the other two Men stopping to stare at the Elf in disbelief before realizing what they were doing and hastily returning to their work. "It’s rather hard to learn to swim when there isn’t a large enough body of water for learning in," he explained calmly.

"Ah, well in that case," Valandil said, "perhaps this wasn’t the best idea, going by boat then."

Laurendil shook his head. "Do not concern yourself, Valandil," he said gently. "I have every faith in your abilities and that of your men to bring us all safely to harbor."

Valandil smiled. "Then, come," he gestured at the wheel, "let me teach you somewhat of sailing. It will while away the time for we have a few hours yet before we reach the Landing."

Laurendil allowed himself to be persuaded and in moments he was standing at the helm with Valandil beside him showing how to move the wheel. When Vandiel and Ercassë came back on deck some time later, bearing trays of food and drink, it was to find the Elf-lord happily steering while Valandil and the other two Men were teaching him the words of a simple sea chantey.

****

The firth did not broaden so much as it shallowed out until they were sailing through wide open spaces. All around were fields of grain as they passed one farm after another for the Orrostar was known for its wheat and rye. It was, in fact, the breadbasket of the island. Further north a bluish-grey smudge rose against the horizon marking the highlands that protected the inner regions of the land from the cold northeast winds. Valandil pointed out some of the features of the farms, explaining some of the farming techniques used by the Númenórëans.

"When our ancestors first came to the island," Valandil said, "Lord Eönwë remained with them for several years and taught them much about farming and such, for our people had little skill in such things, having had to devote ourselves to warfare for so long."

Laurendil nodded. "Yes, Eönwë spoke of it to me not too long ago."

The Mortals around him looked upon him with varying degrees of awe. Laurendil gave them a brilliant smile. "I was born in Aman before the Darkening," he said gently. "I have conversed with all of the Valar and many of the Maiar in my time and am, in fact, in service to Lord Irmo."

They all thought about that for a time. "So... you’ve... you’ve never been to Ennorath." Ercassë finally ventured, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Laurendil’s smile became a little sadder. "I was part of Lord Finrod’s entourage," he replied and the Mortals’ eyes widened even further at that revelation. "I survived the War of Wrath and returned to Aman about five hundred years later with my wife."

For a time none of the Mortals spoke, all lost in thought of this Elf-lord in their midst remembering the Light of the Two Trees and seeing the Rising of Ithil and Anor, surviving the very war that had brought about the raising of Númenórë for their ancestors. It was almost too much for them to grasp and they all welcomed the sight of the Landing and the need to prepare to disembark. Laurendil watched with faint amusement as the Aftercomers scurried about to bring the boat to harborage. He stayed well away from the activity, content to let them do the work for which they were trained.

The Landing was a series of wharfs jutting out into the waters. There were no other boats so they had their pick of moorings. On the shore were several well-built huts which Valandil explained were used primarily for storage. Waiting for them were Valandil's servants with horses. It took a very short time for them to secure the boat and go ashore. Valandil greeted the men quietly and helped his sister to mount while Laurendil gave Ercassë a hand up. He glanced at the horses, admiring them.

"Here, my lord," Valandil said quietly as he led the Elf towards a roan stallion who looked upon them all with intelligence. "This was my adar’s horse, Arroch. He’s a bit spirited, but I think he will do well by you," he ended somewhat apologetically.

"Thank you, Lord Valandil," Laurendil said with a smile. "I’m sure we’ll get along just fine." He started singing softly to the horse as he ran a hand over its body, slowly removing the saddle and handing it to one of the servants before leaping lightly upon the horse’s back. Arroch sidestepped a few paces and then stopped, apparently content to let this Firstborn ride him.

As soon as all were mounted, they set off. Laurendil gazed at the surroundings with interest. The land here was relatively flat and stony. To the northwest of the Landing were a series of stone buildings that Vandiel, riding beside him, explained marked the hot springs.

"There are changing rooms and rest areas," she said, "as well as a tavern during the season. Our lodge lies further west, which is convenient for it will bring us that much closer to our goal."

Laurendil nodded but did not otherwise comment. The sun was nearly setting now and its rays threw shafts of light that set the grey stones around them afire, turning them reddish, while the sky above was darkening towards midnight blue with faint blushes of rose and purple. Soon the first stars were peeping out and Laurendil was heartened to see Eärendil’s Star shining before them. It felt as if a part of home was with him. Shortly after the final rays of light slipped below the horizon they reached the lodge, a large two-storied stone building that nevertheless had a rustic air to it. It did not take long for them to see to the horses and enter the lodge.

Laurendil looked about as they came into the central hall. It was open to the second story and was clearly the main meeting room for its inhabitants. Tapestries depicting hunting scenes or figures out of history (Laurendil recognized a depiction of Túrin fighting Glaurung before the gates of Nargothrond) covered the bare stone walls. A large walk-in fireplace dominated one wall where a fire was already burning. To the left was a doorway leading towards the dining room and the kitchen beyond, according to Valandil, and to the right were two smaller rooms, a library and a parlor. A wooden staircase led to the upper gallery where the bedrooms were situated.

Valandil gave Laurendil, Vandiel and Ercassë a small smile when they were alone once the servants had disappeared with their baggage. "Welcome to Khibîlhazid," he said with a sweep of an arm. "Enjoy what you can of it for we must be on our way again before dawn."

"And then, Armenelos," Ercassë said, her expression and tone unusually grim. "I.. I only hope we are in time... for Fiondil’s sake," she stammered, tears beginning to flow down her cheeks. Vandiel and Valandil embraced her, hoping to give her some comfort, though they were crying as well.

Laurendil stood apart for a moment, looking upon them with grave sympathy. "Indeed," he whispered more to himself. Then he went to the three Mortals and softly sang a song of healing and hope as he took each into his embrace for a time offering what comfort they would accept from him, while Eärendil’s Star continued to ride the heavens in serene beauty and indifference to their sorrows and worries.

****

All words are Quenya unless otherwise noted.

Zigûr: (Adûnaic) Sauron. Literally, "Wizard".

Uinéniel: Daughter of Uinen. This epithet was first given to Erendis, wife of Tar-Aldarion, by Valandil, First Lord of Andúnië. [see Unfinished Tales, 'Aldarion and Erendis: The Mariner's Wife'.]

Calmindon: Light Tower.

Lórinand: (Sindarin/Silvan) Golden Valley; one of the earlier names for Lothlórien.

Arroch: (Sindarin) Noble or kingly horse. It was, in fact, the name of Húrin’s horse. [see The Children of Húrin.]

A Note on the Geography of Númenor: The island is shaped like a five-pointed star, each ‘arm’ of the star is named for the direction in which it lies relative to the center of the island, called Mittalmar, or the ‘Midlands’. Orrostar therefore is the ‘Eastlands’. The other regions are Forostar ‘Northlands’, Andustar ‘Westlands’, Hyarnustar ‘Southwestlands’ and Hyarrostar ‘Southeastlands’. Emerië, which was the chief place of sheep pasturage on the island, lies in the southwest of Mittalmar between the Rivers Siril and Nundúnië. A small part of the Mittalmar was separated from the rest and called Arandor ‘Kingsland’, comprising the Meneltarma, Armenelos and the haven of Rómenna.

Khibîlhazid and its hot springs is an imaginary feature of Númenor for the purposes of this story.

Further note: The word ‘yacht’ may seem modern, but the word is recorded as early as 1557: yeaghe "a light, fast sailing ship". It apparently comes from early Dutch: jachtschip ‘hunting ship, ship for chasing, fast pirate ship’.

A shoal-draft boat is one that has a shallow enough draft to be able to maneuver through the shoals or shallow waters so it can reach areas of land inaccessible to larger boats and ships.