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The Last Messenger: A Tale of Númenor  by Fiondil

14: Eärnur’s Tale

"It was a year after Ar-Adûnakhôr came to the throne that I arrived in Númenórë," Eärnur explained to the Mortals. "At that time ships from Tol Eressëa were seldom seen here and when we came, we came in secret. I was sent to Andúnië to speak with its lord...."

"Wait!," Laurendil interrupted. "You were sent? By whom? I thought you went because of your friendship with Eärnur Ciryatano."

Eärnur gave his fellow Elf a wry look. "Which is probably why the Valar sent me when anyone else would have done."

"That sounds oddly familiar," Laurendil said darkly.

The Mortals looked on in bemusement, not sure what was being said. Eärnur noticed and gave them a warm smile. "You must forgive us, my children," he said. "Laurendil and I have a... history with the Valar that is not always congenial."

"How did you and Lord Eärnur meet?" Vandiel asked shyly.

"Ah, well, it was during the reign of Adûnakhôr’s grandfather, Tar-Calmacil." They all nodded, knowing well their history. "Eärnur was a young Man, not even the Lord of Andúnië then. In fact, he wasn’t much older than you children, perhaps only forty."

"A mere elfling," Laurendil said with a smile and Eärnur smiled back, though the Mortals, at least the younger ones, did not look at all amused.

"Yes, well, anyway, there was a plague that hit the island around that time, brought, we suspect, from Middle-earth courtesy of Sauron when he was forced to withdraw eastward after Calmacil began to colonize the coasts of Middle-earth."

"I remember reading about that," Valandil said. "Many of the Faithful died, more so it seems than those who called themselves Arandili."

Eärnur nodded. "Young Eärnur was a victim of the plague that killed his mother and two older brothers. The Lord of Andúnië appealed to the Valar for aid, and as a healer I volunteered to go when Lord Irmo gave his permission." He gave the Mortals a shy smile. "I’d never met any of the Edain, you see, and I was curious about you."

Valandil turned to Laurendil. "You said you were a healer, too. Did you come then, as well?"

"Nay, I did not," he replied. "I remember well the day King Finrod brought Bëor the Old unto Nargothrond." He grimaced and looked chagrined. "I was not very welcoming to Bëor or his people at first, though I will admit your ancestors did grow on me after awhile. Once I returned to Aman, though, I decided not to travel any further east than Tol Eressëa."

They all stared at Laurendil in surprise and not a little awe. Eärnur merely shrugged, well aware of his friend’s history.

"At any rate, I came here with a few other healers. Tar-Calmacil wasn’t too pleased by our presence but even those who had no love for the Firstborn did not deny our aid. When one’s child or spouse lies at death’s door, one tends to leave behind such prejudices, at least until the threat of death has passed. So it was that I came unto the Lord of Andúnië and saved his last remaining child." The Elf smiled wistfully at the memory. "Young Eärnur, when he learned my name, said it was a good omen, but in the end...." He sighed and Laurendil put an arm around his shoulders and hugged him.

"You and he had eighty years of friendship," he said gently. "Even if he had not drowned when his ship went down, he would still be dead today. Be grateful for the time you were given, however brief and however deep the pain."

Eärnur gave Laurendil a shrewd look. "Is that why you refused to join me in succoring the plague victims when I asked you to?"

"Partly," Laurendil answered. "I have had my own share of heartache where the Secondborn are concerned and when Findaráto openly declared he would never travel any further east than Tol Eressëa, how could I, who am and always will be his liegeman, do elsewise than he?"

"How did you survive the storm when all others drowned?" Ercassë asked.

"Well, now we’re getting to it," Eärnur said with a nod. "I will admit that when I was summoned to Valmar to speak to Lord Manwë I was rather shocked...."

****

Eärnur tried not to look or act nervous as he made his way up the steps to the front portico of Manwë’s mansion but knew it was a lost cause. The Maia who was escorting him, not one he knew, smiled gently at him as he was led down the main hall to an audience chamber.

"There is naught to be nervous about, child," the Maia said. "You’ve dealt with Lord Irmo and Lady Estë for many yéni. Speaking with the Elder King is no different."

"That’s just it," Eärnur said with a slight squeak in his voice. "He’s the Elder King."

The Maia stopped and gave him an amused look. "Yes, he is, and he is no less in love with you than Lord Irmo or Lady Estë."

Eärnur blinked at that, never having thought of any of the Valar as being ‘in love’ with him and it made him feel rather uneasy, though he couldn’t quite say why. The Maia merely smiled and continued down the hall, forcing Eärnur to follow. They came to a plain wooden door with mithril worked into it in a filigree design. The Maia opened the door and ushered Eärnur inside where he found himself in a small, brightly lit room furnished with several low couches and chairs. In one chair sat Manwë, in another....

Eärnur felt himself become faint and the room did a slow spin as his heart started racing and he was barely aware of the Maia taking him by the arm and leading him to one of the couches where he was made to lie down. A cool cloth was placed on his forehead and he sighed in blessed relief when a hand was placed over his heart and he could feel his pulse slowing almost to the point of falling asleep. Then his head was lifted up and a goblet of sweet water was offered him and that woke him up again, his mind clearing. He looked up to see concerned looks on the faces of the two Valar and the Maia.

"Are you feeling better, child?" Manwë asked solicitously.

"I... I think so," he whispered, feeling himself reddening in embarrassment at nearly fainting in front of them.

"Fionwë," Manwë said, looking up at the Maia, "thank you. You may go now. I think we have everything under control."

Fionwë nodded and gave his lord and the Lord of Mandos his obeisance before exiting from the room. Manwë reached down and gave Eärnur a hand up while Námo gave him a sardonic smile. Eärnur cursed himself mentally for acting like a bloody fool. It wasn’t as if he had never seen the Lord of Mandos before. He and Lord Irmo were often seen speaking to one another about the Reborn who were under both their care. It was just that his presence was unexpected.

"And I apologize for causing you any upset, Eärnur," Námo said. "Now, why don’t you just sit here for a moment and gather your wits. There’s no rush. Take all the time you need."

Eärnur nodded and accepted a second goblet of water that Manwë handed him as he sat in one of the chairs. The two Valar took their own seats. The elf drank half the contents in nearly a single swallow and that seemed to steady him even more. Only when he put the goblet down on a nearby table did Manwë speak.

"I, too, apologize for your... shock," he said. "I did not think seeing my brother Vala here would upset you so."

"It is I who should be apologizing, lord," Eärnur replied softly. "It’s not as if I’ve never seen Lord Námo before or even talked with him. It’s just...." but he couldn’t quite put into words what he had felt when he saw the Lord of Mandos sitting beside Lord Manwë, staring at him with those unsettling and all too knowing eyes.

"There is no need to say anything further," Manwë told him with a smile. "Why don’t we move on to the purpose of this meeting."

Eärnur nodded, grateful to the Valar for not pressing the matter. He remained silent, waiting for the Elder King to explain his summons. However, it was not Manwë who spoke, but Námo and he began by asking a question.

"When was the last time you saw the Lord of Andúnië?"

Eärnur gave him a surprised look. "I think it’s been over forty years. I visited him at the birth of his first child, a son." He paused and gave them a shy smile. "They let me hold him." The two Valar smiled warmly at that.

"And you’ve not been back since," Manwë said.

Eärnur shook his head, now feeling alarmed. "Has something happened?" he asked, wondering about his Mortal friend.

"There have been some disturbing rumors coming from the Star Island," Námo answered him. "We would like you to go there to confirm these rumors."

"Me? Why Me?"

"Because of your friendship with Eärnur Ciryatano," Manwë replied. "The Eldar are not being welcomed as openly as before, but there is still friendship between the Lords of Andúnië and the Valar and Eärnur is known to you and you to him."

Eärnur nodded. That made sense, as far as it went, but...

"There are others who are equally known to the Lord of Andúnië," he said, giving them a shrewd look.

"Indeed, there are," Námo said, looking even more cryptic than usual. "But none of them are named Eärnur."

The elf just stared at the two Valar, wondering what game they were playing with him....

****

"Game is right!" Laurendil exclaimed suddenly, rising gracefully to his feet, his expression stern and unforgiving. The younger Mortals gasped slightly at the sight of his inner light shining through, though he was unaware of the effect he was having on them.

Eärnur rose to his feet as well, putting his hands on his friend’s shoulders. "You think so?"

"Do you not?" Laurendil retorted angrily.

"Perhaps at one point I did," Eärnur replied in a reasonable tone, "but no longer. Now I understand the look of grief that I saw in Lord Námo’s eyes when I took my leave of him and Lord Manwë after I accepted their charge."

Laurendil gave him an uncomprehending look. "Grief?"

The Teler nodded, giving him a brief smile that held its own sorrows in it. "I think he and Lord Manwe knew well what they were asking of me, though I knew it not and came here in all innocence of their true motives for sending me."

"And what possible justification could they have for what they did to you, to us?" Laurendil snarled, his anger unabated.

Eärnur did not answer immediately, but knelt beside the still sleeping Fiondil, brushing a gentle hand through the young Man’s locks and bending down to give him a kiss on his brow. Then he looked up at Laurendil still standing there, his expression dark with barely suppressed fury but also a look of confusion and uncertainty in his eyes, as if unsure what his friend was doing.

"He is their justification," Eärnur finally said in a soft voice. "If not for me, Fiondil would be dead and quite possibly many others of the Elendili." With those words he looked pointedly at the other Mortals, his expression almost as stern as Laurendil’s had been, and the younger Númenórëans finally saw his own light shining through and gazed upon both the Elves with awe and dismay.

"I... I don’t understand," Laurendil said then, looking perplexed.

Eärnur nodded. "And for a long time, neither did I, but always, even in my darkest moments, I saw before me the expression of grief in Lord Námo’s eyes as I took my leave of the Valar. That look has haunted me these four hundred years and oddly enough the memory of it has kept my own hope alive."

"How?" Laurendil sat back down beside his friend.

The Teler sighed as he settled himself again as well. The Mortals seemed almost forgotten as the two Elves spoke, slipping unconsciously into Quenya. It was Boromir who reminded them that they were not alone when he cleared his throat meaningfully and the ellyn glanced up with almost identical looks of surprise on their faces, which caused Ercassë to cover her mouth in a vain attempt to suppress her giggles. Laurendil and Eärnur exchanged rueful smiles and they both apologized to the Númenórëans for their rudeness.

"We’re just as interested in hearing your tale as Lord Laurendil is," Valandil said with a grin.

Eärnur nodded. "I will not bore you with details of my time here," he told them. "I accepted Lord Manwë’s commission and came to Númenórë and met with Lord Eärnur. There was indeed some disturbing news that the new king had taken the scepter with a name that many of the Faithful of that time considered blasphemous. Still, I wondered why it was necessary for me to come here when others could have gotten the information just as easily." He paused for a moment, his eyes nearly blank with remembered pain and sorrow. "It was years, even centuries, before I truly understood."

"What happened?" Laurendil asked gently.

"Eärnur decided to travel to Rómenna and asked me to join him on his ship for it would be easier, he said, to go by sea than overland. I agreed and so we went, sailing south. Somewhere along the way we ran into severe weather and got caught in one of Lord Ossë’s more spectacular storms." He grinned somewhat mirthlessly at that then shook his head, as if to clear it of the memory. "I remember little of what happened. I think I saw Eärnur get swept overboard at one point and then one of the spars broke apart and hit me and I knew nothing more until I awoke on shore, half drowned. I later learned that I had been washed up near Nindamos and it was the fisherfolk who found me and gave me succor."

"Why did you not return to Aman then?" Laurendil asked. "Were you held prisoner by these Mortals all this time?"

"In a manner of speaking," Eärnur said. "They gave me what aid they could and when I was sufficiently recovered I did indeed attempt to return home." He grimaced then and his eyes darkened. "The fisherfolk were in awe of me, and yet at the same time, treated me more as a slave than anything else. They knew that the Eldar were no longer welcomed on the island and were afraid that my presence might harm them, so they kept me hidden or at least tried to. I managed to escape my bonds several times, and to steal a boat with the intention of sailing at least to Andúnië where I knew I could secure passage back to Tol Eressëa, but each time I set out to sea a storm would come up, driving me back to shore and into the not so loving arms of the people of Nindamos."

Laurendil was not the only one to gasp in shock at those words. Vandiel gave Eärnur a sympathetic look. "Did... did they mistreat you, lord?" she asked shyly, almost fearfully.

Eärnur gave her a gentle smile. "Not really, child. They were frightened, for me and for themselves, and had a healthy respect for Lord Ossë’s temper. My attempts to leave and being driven back to Nindamos was a sign to them that I was to be kept safe and so I was. At first I raged against them and the Valar for what was happening and I was not kind to them." He paused, looking sorrowful. "In the blindness of my own anger and hurt I did not see, or refused to see, how I was hurting them as well. It was only when one of the children became deathly ill with swamp fever that I woke up to the fact that these were people in need. It took me some time to convince them to let me help but eventually they let me heal the child and when I began to offer my services as a healer we began to treat one another more kindly."

"But they refused to let you go," Boromir said, looking troubled at the thought of this Firstborn being kept a virtual slave to the fisherfolk.

"They were convinced that it was not Lord Ulmo’s wish that I be allowed to leave, and so they made sure I could not by the expedient of putting a guard on me during the day and chaining me every night."

"They chained you? Like a dog?" Laurendil leaped up again, disbelief and fury written all over him.

"Well, I admit, at first I was rather resentful," Eärnur replied blandly. "After a time, though, I merely accepted it as what it was. I became the property of the village elder and was passed down from one generation to the next." The ellon actually smiled. "They developed a very elaborate ceremony of transference from father to son which was rather amusing to see develop."

"I can’t believe I’m hearing this," Laurendil muttered in shocked disbelief. "And the fisherfolk! They denied ever seeing you." He stared at Eärnur pointedly but the Teler merely shrugged, for he had no answer to that. Laurendil grimaced, his expression going cold. "The Valar have much to answer for."

"Perhaps," Eärnur responded softly, giving another shrug, "but they will answer to me, not you."

The two Elves stared at one another, the Mortals again forgotten, until Valandil, who had remained quiet all this time, spoke. "How did you end up in the Morimindon?" he asked quietly.

Eärnur turned to him. "Is that what it’s called? Fiondil didn’t know."

"Few outside of Armenelos know of the Black Tower or what goes on behind its walls," Boromir said. "Young Fiondil, I understand, had never been to Armenelos before he went with Lord Elendil’s eldest son to steal the seed of Nimloth."

"Yes, he told me about that," Eärnur said with a nod. "A rather foolish venture, but it was only when he was thrown into the same cell as I that I began to understand fully the... um... deviousness of the Valar."

Laurendil snorted at that but did not otherwise comment.

"So how did you end up there?" Vandiel asked.

"I lived among the fisherfolk for several centuries," Eärnur replied, picking up the thread of his tale. "After a time, when they saw that I had accepted my lot, my freedom was restored to me and I was permitted to join in their daily lives, though I was never allowed near a boat. They feared Lord Ossë’s wrath too much to let me go fishing with them, as much as I would have enjoyed doing so." He smiled at the Mortals who gave him puzzled looks. "I am a Teler," he explained, "and we live for the sea. Thus, when I demonstrated that I knew how to repair nets, make sails, gut fish and such, they gave me these tasks to do in addition to being their healer. I even was asked to teach some of the younger women the healing arts, for, before I came, they had only a rudimentary knowledge of healing, enough to set broken bones and ward off certain illnesses, but that was about it. So I had several apprentices down the years and joined in the daily life of the community. In truth, it was little different from what I remember from my own youth before I went to Lórien to apprentice to Lord Irmo."

"Did they betray you?" Laurendil asked softly.

Eärnur leaned over and planted a kiss on the ellon’s brow. "Nay, meldonya, they did not. It was agents of Sauron who found me one day as I was wandering through the watermeads collecting healing plants. I was alone, for by now I was a trusted member of the community and was no longer chained at night or guarded during the day. I had, in fact, made my peace with my lot, trusting in Eru’s love and that of the Valar. They were apparently on their way to Nindamos for reasons I never learned. They subdued me before I had a chance to elude them and most of the time I was unconscious. I do not know what happened to the fisherfolk and can only pray that they did not suffer unduly under Sauron’s lash."

"How long ago was that?" Ercassë asked.

Eärnur shrugged. "I am not sure, for time holds little meaning for the Firstborn. I think at least a year or two ago. At any rate, I was brought to the Morimindon, thrust into the cell in which you found me and pretty much left to myself."

"I find that hard to believe," Laurendil said with raised eyebrows. "Do you mean you were not tortured or...."

"I never said that," Eärnur retorted, "I said I was left pretty much to myself. Of course I was tortured and questioned but they learned nothing from me."

"Surely you were questioned by Sauron," Laurendil rejoined. "How..."

"Laurendil," Eärnur admonished gently, "you forget whose apprentice I was even before you joined us in Lórien."

Laurendil looked abashed. "Sorry. I forgot. I guess I just assumed that after all that time surrounded by... by the Secondborn you would have let your guard down."

"Never!" Eärnur assured him. "I never ceased being the Master Healer, though my patients were no longer Reborn Elves. Sauron did indeed question me, but it availed him nothing, for in truth I had no information of any worth to him. I’d been among the fisherfolk for so long I knew nothing of the politics that raged across this island or what the Valar might do. So, in the end, he left me to myself, placing that doorspell so I could not escape. The guards had a special key that apparently neutralized the spell long enough for them to bring me food and water once a day."

He stopped momentarily and checked on Fiondil who had begun to stir restlessly, lost in dark dreams, while the others pondered his words. Vandiel checked the tea and, satisfied that it had steeped long enough, carefully removed the bowl from the fire, using Laurendil's knife to dish out the plant matter. "Now we will let it cool before we give him some," she said.

Laurendil, meanwhile had moved to Fiondil’s other side and was monitoring the young Man’s vitals. Almost by mutual consent the two Elves began singing a low invocation to Estë and Irmo with Eärnur placing a hand on Fiondil’s brow while Laurendil placed one over the Mortal’s heart. The words were sung in Quenya, though seemingly in a dialect different from what the Númenórëans knew so some of the words were unfamiliar to them. The efficacy of the invocation, however, was evident when, not only Fiondil, but also the other Mortals began to relax. The Elves kept up their singing until the tea was cool enough and then Laurendil held Fiondil upright while Eärnur softly called him to consciousness enough so that he could safely take the liquid without choking. Even in his sleep the young Man grimaced at the taste, which made his sister smile. When they had gotten as much of the tea down him as they could, Laurendil laid him back down and readjusted the cloaks covering the Man’s body.

He glanced up at Eärnur who had remained kneeling on the other side of the Mortal. "You said without you, this child would have died, and many others as well."

Eärnur nodded. "They threw him into my cell shortly after he was captured. He had not yet been tortured for information and he was naturally frightened. Once he calmed down enough to heed me, I began to teach him ways of blocking his thoughts so that not even Sauron could force himself into his inner most mind." The ellon shook his head, his expression painful. "He screamed when they came for him the first time. I could do nothing to help him except pray to the Valar that his fëa be guarded even if his hröa could not be. When they returned him to the cell he was more dead than alive, but I was able to alleviate much of the hurt. The second time they came for him he merely whimpered, knowing what was to come, knowing he could do nothing to stop it, but I had given him as much aid as I could, given my limited resources. They only just returned him a few hours earlier when you all showed up."

The Mortals looked upon the sleeping Man with expressions of horror and Ercassë was weeping softly in Vandiel’s arms at what was done to her brother. Eärnur rose and went to her, lifting her up into his embrace. "Be at peace, child," he whispered to her, though they all heard his words. "Your brother lives and so do you. Rejoice that it is so."

"He lives indeed," Boromir said with a nod, "as do we all, but that does not mean we are free and we may yet all die."

"That is true, Boromir," Laurendil said, "but for the moment let us indeed rejoice that we have all won free from that evil place and remember that while there is life, there is hope."

Eärnur, still standing with Ercassë in his arms, looked down at his fellow Elf, now sitting cross-legged next to the sleeping Fiondil. "And that thought was what kept me alive for all those centuries, meldonya," he said. "Lady Nienna once told me that hope is what sustains Eä. Hope is what sustained me." He turned back to Ercassë, giving her a warm smile. "Hope is what kept your brother alive long enough for you to rescue him."

"And you were there to give him that hope, weren’t you, lord?" she asked shyly.

Eärnur nodded, leaning down to give her a kiss on the top of her head. "Indeed," he said. "It was for that reason the Valar sent me here, to assure that your brother would not lose hope in his darkest hour, and I thank them for the privilege of being an instrument of hope, even at the expense of my own freedom."

****

Historical Notes: from Unfinished Tales, "The Line of Elros: Kings of Númenor":

XVIII: Tar-Calmacil: He was born in the year 2516, and he ruled for 88 years until his death in 2825. This name he took, for in his youth he was a great captain, and won wide lands along the coasts of Middle-earth. Thus he kindled the hate of Sauron, who nonetheless withdrew, and built his power in the East, far from the shores, biding his time. In the days of Tar-Calmacil the name of the King was first spoken in Adûnaic; and by the King's Men he was called Ar-Belzagar.

XIX: Tar-Ardamir: He was born in the year 2618, and he ruled for 74 years until his death in 2899. His name in Adûnaic was Ar-Abattârik.

XX: Ar-Adûnakhôr (Tar-Herunúmen): He was born in the year 2709, and he ruled for 63 years until his death in 2962. He was the first King to take the sceptre with a title in the Adûnaic tongue; though out of fear (as aforesaid) a name in Quenya was inscribed in the Scrolls. But these titles were held by the Faithful to be blasphemous, for they signified ‘Lord of the West,’ by which title they had been wont to name one of the great Valar only, Manwë in especial. In this reign the Elven-tongues were no longer used, nor permitted to be taught; were maintained in secret by the Faithful; and the ships from Eressëa came seldom and secretly to the west shores of Númenor thereafter.

The plague that Eärnur mentions is non-canonical, but given the history of Sauron sending plagues in an attempt to destroy the Dúnedain during the Third Age, it is not inconceivable that Sauron’s hatred for the Númenórëans, kindled by Tar-Calmacil’s conquest of the coasts of Middle-earth, would lead him to attempt something similar aimed at Tar-Calmacil and the Númenórëans. At any rate, Eärnur is referring to events that occurred in the year 2820, 475 years earlier. Thus Eärnur Ciryatano, Lord of Andúnië, was 120 years old when he drowned in 2900.





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