18: The Mystery of Nindamos

In the end, they made their way to Nindamos, though not before they examined the goods Eärnur had brought.

"These were still relatively fresh," Eärnur pointed out as they examined the basket of foodstuffs, mostly fruits and cheese and even a couple loaves of bread, "which leads me to believe that the village has only recently been deserted, perhaps only in the last week or so."

"Yet, you found no clues as to why, or where they may have gone?" Laurendil asked even as the young Mortals began feasting on the food.

Eärnur shook his head. "The boats are all gone. Most of what was left behind were implements in need of repair and cast-offs. Nothing of value."

"Where could they have gone, and what drove them away?" Fiondil asked as he passed a flagon of wine to Laurendil who accepted it with a graceful smile.

"Valandil is trying to determine that," Eärnur told them. "I came back to lead you to the village. In spite of the fact that it’s deserted, I deem it the safest place for us."

Laurendil agreed and before long they had gathered their meager supplies together and followed Eärnur along paths that only he seemed to see, passing through tall reeds and yellow sedge until they reached a rise in the land where a village sat. For some time they had been hearing a sound that none could quite place until they neared the village and then they all realized they were hearing the sound of breakers and now the smell of brine was stronger than it had been. They came upon the village from the rear. It sat upon a high bluff overlooking the ocean. Quays lined the shallow cove below them and all about them they saw evidence of a village dedicated to fishing, but there was a definite air of desolation and an emptiness of sound save the high squeeing of gulls that left them all feeling depressed. Valandil met them near the center of the village where the well stood. His expression was grim.

"Nothing," he said without preamble. "No sign of blood or bodies. No sign of any violence visiting this place. I think they simply up and left."

"Yes, but where, and more importantly, why?" Eärnur asked with a sigh. His expression was troubled and Laurendil put an arm around his shoulders, giving them a squeeze in comfort.

"Could they have been driven away by the King’s Men?" he asked. "You said that you ran into them on their way to the village. Did you ever learn why they were heading here?"

Eärnur shook his head. "Nay, I never did. Indeed, I am not entirely sure they ever continued to the village. Once they captured me they seemed content to return to Armenelos."

They all thought about that for a while, wondering at the import. Finally, Fiondil ventured an opinion. "Do you suppose you were the target all along and it was just by chance, or not, that they found you alone?"

Eärnur stared at the young Mortal in surprise. "You think they knew I was here and were coming after me?"

"Why else would they bother with these people?" Fiondil countered.

"The Arandili are known for ranging across the island and harassing the people," Valandil said. "They collect the taxes and have even been known to forcibly recruit young men into the army. They could have been coming here to do one or the other or both and you just happened to be caught. Perhaps they deemed you the bigger prize."

Eärnur shook his head. "In the four hundred years that I’ve lived among these people, rarely did anyone bother them. I recall only once that anyone came from Armenelos and that was but a single traveler." He gave them a wry smile. "The villagers made sure that the stranger and I never met. It was rather amusing seeing them scurry about trying to keep the two of us apart."

"How long ago was that?" Valandil asked.

Eärnur shrugged, but gave the young Man a quizzical look. "About a year before I was taken."

"Who was he? Why did he come here?" Fiondil demanded, perhaps seeing a connection the others had yet to make.

"He was a pedlar, or so he claimed," Eärnur answered, now looking dubious. "At any rate, he did not stay long, only a couple of days."

Valandil and Fiondil exchanged looks. "What are you thinking, gwador?" Valandil finally asked.

"If I understand the chronology correctly, about three years ago I heard rumors that Ar-Pharazôn was seeking something... or someone in the south."

Valandil frowned. "I don’t recall any such rumors. None of the Elendili mentioned this."

Fiondil nodded. "Not surprising as it was but a single rumor from a source that was not always reliable, but now I’m wondering..."

"Wondering what?" Ercassë asked in frustration. "I do wish you would stop speaking in riddles, brother. It’s most annoying."

Fiondil gave his sister a bright smile and hugged her. "I am sorry, sister mine," he said as he gave her a light kiss on her forehead, "I was just trying to remember the details of the discussion. My... contact in the guard said that Zigûr was ordering a troop of Arandili south, ostensibly by order of the King, but now I think perhaps not." He gave Eärnur a piercing look. "I think somehow Zigûr sensed your presence here on the island. I think those Men were sent to find you, and, of course, they did."

Laurendil was just in time to grab Eärnur as the ellon swayed in shock, helping him to sit down against the side of the well; the others gathered around him. Vandiel quickly sent the bucket on the rope down into the well. There was a splash and then she was winching the bucket up. A dipper hung on a hook embedded in the wooden frame of the winch and she used it to ladle some water and hand it to Eärnur, who drank the water gratefully, some of his color slowly returning. "He knew I was here? He knew...."

"I doubt he knew you specifically were here," Laurendil assured the younger ellon. "In your time among the villagers, did you employ any of your... powers?"

Eärnur shook his head. "No. I utilized only the most rudimentary of the healing arts. I never revealed the full scope of my abilities to these people... except...." He scowled and then groaned in despair.

"What?" Laurendil asked, his expression grave. "What is it, meldonya?"

"It was the winter before I was found," Eärnur replied, speaking softly. "There was a terrible storm that ravaged this area for several days. One of the houses nearer the shore was pounded by waves and wind and collapsed. A young man, Sakalthôr, the son of the village headman in fact, was severely injured, near to death. I... I used some of the deeper healing arts to save him, though he would never ply the waves again, for he never fully regained his strength." He sighed and closed his eyes. "Do you think Sauron sensed the use of power then and sought to discover its source?"

Laurendil shrugged. "It’s possible," he averred. "We’ll probably never know for sure, though the timing is... suspect."

Eärnur grinned. "Timing is everything they say," he quipped.

They all laughed at that, more for the need to release the tension they were all feeling than because there was any real humor in the Elf’s words. When they had calmed down somewhat, Ercassë asked, "What about the other fishing villages you said were nearby? Are they deserted as well?"

Fiondil gave his sister a measuring look. "That’s a very good question, sister. Perhaps we should go see."

Eärnur rose gracefully and shook his head. "I will scout the area. You do not know where all the safe paths across these marshes lie. Stay here and gather what supplies you can find. I do not think we should stay here for more than the night."

"Yes, but where should we go now?" Vandiel asked with a dejected sigh. "I tire of running and hiding. I want to go home."

"As do we all, child," Laurendil said with a gentle, yet sad, smile. "Fear not! An answer will be forthcoming. Have a little patience. Let us see what Eärnur discovers about the other villages and then we will discuss our next move."

They all agreed to that and without another word Eärnur loped away towards the northeast to the nearest village while the others checked the houses and outbuildings for whatever they could find.

****

Not all the boats were gone, as they discovered. It was Fiondil who found it, walking further up the beach in search of clues or perhaps just some privacy. His body still ached from his torture and he had much to think about. The boat, a small fishing boat, was stranded high on the beach, the bright green and yellow paint on its hull beginning to blister and peel. He called to the others and Valandil, the most knowledgeable about such things, gave the boat a thorough examination.

"It appears seaworthy enough," he opined at last. "No sails or oars, though, and that may be why it was left behind."

"We may have need of it, at any rate," Laurendil said, "and I think we can find sails or oars in the village."

"It’d be a tight squeeze to get us all on board, though," Valandil replied. "I would not wish to trust my life with it unless need drove me."

"Still, it’s something to remember," Laurendil retorted. "Come, let us return to the village. Eärnur is approaching."

The Mortals gave the Elf looks of disbelief, but did not argue, so they were not too surprised to see Eärnur standing on the bluff above them when they returned to the village, though they did cast surreptitious looks at Laurendil, which the Elf ignored.

"The two closest villages are intact," Eärnur said without preamble as he made his way down to the beach. The maidens had been gathering driftwood in anticipation of building a bonfire on the beach. They felt uneasy in the village itself, whispering of ghosts, much to their brothers’ disgust and Laurendil’s bemusement. "I managed to find one of the children picking winterberries and asked her if she knew what happened here."

"And?" Laurendil asked, his expression one of amusement more than frustration. "Do you plan on telling us what you learned anytime soon?"

Eärnur gave his fellow Elf a wicked grin, then said something in Telerin Quenya that the Mortals didn’t quite catch, but whatever was said set Laurendil laughing. The Noldo threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Very well. We’ll eat first, then you can tell us."

So they set about putting a meal together. By now the late afternoon sun was setting, and the constant swishing of the waves on the beach produced a calming effect on them all. Soon they were gathered around the bonfire, eating. Fiondil and Valandil told Eärnur about the boat and the others told him of the things they had found, or had not found, in the village.

"It’s almost as if they simply packed what they needed and left," Valandil stated. "There is no sign of panic or distress."

"What did the child tell you?" Laurendil finally asked Eärnur.

"She knew very little, but what she said, or didn’t say, was interesting," Eärnur replied, taking a sip of tea. Ercassë had managed to find some in a tin in one of the houses and they were all enjoying the soothing beverage. "About the time we were attempting our escape from the Valley of Tombs, there was a gale that hit the coast. Not a violent one as such storms go, but bad enough that all the boats were beached. The storm lasted only through the night, but when it cleared the villagers were amazed to find a ship... a grey ship sailing the waters just off the coast."

"A grey ship?" Vandiel asked. "Is that significant?"

"Perhaps," Laurendil answered without taking his eyes off Eärnur. "What did this ship do?"

"Nothing, according to the child," Eärnur replied. "It merely sailed back and forth in the distance but never came close to shore. She told me that all the village heads gathered for a meeting to decide what portent this grey ship might mean. She seemed to think perhaps Lord Ossë had something to do with it."

The Mortals all gasped at that and Laurendil noticed Ercassë casting a fearful glance at the dark ocean behind them. "What happened?" he asked.

"Nindamos is the largest of the fishing villages here," Eärnur explained. "As such you might call it the capital of the region. The other village heads made their way here, according to the child, to consult with Azrubêlzir, Nindamos’ headman, only to find the village deserted."

They all looked at one another in confusion and fear. "What could it mean, then?" Vandiel finally asked.

"The other fisherfolk...." Eärnur started to say, then stopped, looking distressed.

Laurendil leaned closer to his friend, giving him a concerned look. "What is it, meldonya? What has you so distressed?"

Eärnur did not answer immediately, merely staring into the flames of the fire. No one else spoke, willing to wait for the Elf to collect himself. "They think Lord Ossë... took the villagers to himself."

Laurendil leaned back, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Took the people and the animals and the boats but left the village intact."

Eärnur finally looked at the other ellon and gave him an elegant shrug. "They’re a superstitious people and Lord Ossë could do whatever he wants."

"Perhaps they were... enticed away," Fiondil ventured uncertainly.

The others gave him an appraising look. Valandil clapped the younger Man on the shoulder. "You might just be closer to the truth than you think, gwador."

"Yes, but why?" Fiondil protested, "and why this village and none of the others?"

"Do you count these fisherfolk among the Elendili?" Laurendil asked Valandil, who shook his head.

"Nay, we do not, but neither do we count them among the Arandili," he answered. "They are only for themselves, no one else."

"Is that true, Eärnur?" Laurendil turned to the other ellon.

The Teler nodded. "In a way. Lord Ossë they know and respect, even fear. Of the Valar, themselves, they had few stories, until I arrived."

"Oh?" Laurendil sounded amused.

Eärnur smiled. "I used to tell them stories, well the children, but many of the adults listened in."

"Stories such as?" Laurendil retorted.

The ellon shrugged. "Oh, you know, tales about life in Aman and living amongst the Valar and Maiar. I told them about... the troubles that followed the Darkening, that sort of thing."

"Ah," was Laurendil’s only comment.

The Mortals gave the two Elves confused looks. "Would you care to explain?" Valandil finally asked in exasperation.

Laurendil shook his head and gave them a brilliant smile. "Not really. Suffice to say that not all was peace and tranquility in the Blessed Realm when the Light of the Trees died. There was much turmoil then and for some time afterwards." He turned back to Eärnur. "And in all your stories the Valar figured prominently." It was not a question but Eärnur nodded anyway.

"I never told them that their superstitions were ludicrous or that their disbelief close to blasphemy. I simply told them stories about my life in Aman, growing up in Alqualondë, going to Lórien to become a healer... meeting you and Findaráto." This last was said with a wicked gleam in his eyes and the Mortals were surprised when Laurendil burst out laughing.

"Now that’s telling tales out of school," he protested. "I’m sure my lord Findaráto will not be amused when he learns he’s been slandered by you."

Eärnur gave the other ellon a hurt look. "I never slandered Findaráto to anyone. I spoke only the truth. I cannot help it if the son of Arafinwë attracts trouble wherever he goes, even without Glorfindel there to egg him on."

Now Laurendil started laughing even harder and the others watched in amazement as the ellon fell backward off the piece of driftwood he’d been using as a seat. "Too true... too true," he finally gasped out, trying to get control of himself. Eärnur, they noticed, looked on with a satisfied smirk on his face.

"So you’re saying that you... taught these people the truth about the Valar?" Ercassë asked while Laurendil struggled to sit upright again, accepting Fiondil’s helping hand.

"I suppose I did," Eärnur allowed with a musing look. "In truth, I didn’t see it that way, I just wanted to... to hold on to what I was before I came here. If I taught them to believe in the Valar again, that was not intentional."

"Perhaps, but it must have happened, at least to some of them," Fiondil stated. "Surely, the younger generations would have grown up hearing your stories and believing them."

"You’re probably correct, Fiondil," Eärnur nodded in agreement. "I just never thought of it that way."

"Boromir spoke of Númenórë’s fall," Fiondil added softly. "Do you think..."

"Someone decided to save these people?" Eärnur finished the thought for him and shrugged. "Possibly, but the question remains: who and why?"

"As to who, I have one or two guesses," Laurendil answered him, "but as to why... perhaps for your sake, meldonya?" Laurendil ventured gently.

Eärnur gave Laurendil a surprised look. "My sake?"

"You spent four hundred years among these people, working and living with them, healing them of their hurts and teaching them of the Valar, whether you intentionally set out to do so or not. You’ve grown to love these people. I’ve seen how your eyes turned dark with worry whenever you spoke of the people of Nindamos. However they treated you, you apparently forgave them and I can see that you fear your presence may have caused them some harm. Perhaps the Valar in their mercy have sent these people from the island to protect them from whatever disaster may yet come to Númenórë."

Fiondil looked upon Eärnur with some awe. "Perhaps I wasn’t the only one you were sent to save, Eärnur. Perhaps you were sent to help save this entire village. Do you think they would have listened even to Lord Ossë if you had not taught them about the Valar, taught them not to fear the Powers but to at least respect them even if they could not bring themselves to love them?"

"Fiondil is correct, meldonya," Laurendil said pointedly to the speechless Eärnur. "More is going on than we all suspect, I deem. Findaráto always said the Valar were a devious lot. I think you and I are beginning to understand just how devious they truly are."

For a long time no one spoke, each lost in their own thoughts at the revelations that they had just heard and the conclusions that were being drawn. The night deepened about them. Stars shone brilliantly above and there was a phosphorescent glow to the ever-moving waters as the waves pounded incessantly upon the shore. Finally, Ercassë stirred.

"You mentioned a grey ship, Eärnur," she said. "What do you think it means? We’ve seen no sign of it since we arrived."

"Ah...." Laurendil answered her instead, giving them a slight smile. "That’s my ship the villagers saw, the Eäremírë."

The Mortals all gave him shocked looks. "Your ship!" exclaimed Valandil. "But how...."

"I called to it, or rather to its captain to meet us here," Laurendil explained, though his words only left the Mortals feeling more confused.

"What do you mean... called?" Vandiel asked in a tight voice.

"We Elves possess the gift of ósanwë, of thought-sending," Laurendil replied. "At need, we can call to others with our minds. When we were still in the Valley of Tombs, I called to Voronwë, the captain of the ship, to come to the mouth of the Siril where the ship was hiding in a harbor off the coast of Andúnië."

"You knew we must come this way before we followed the river," Fiondil accused him.

Laurendil nodded. "Yes, I knew."

The four Númenórëans sat in silence at the implications of the Elf’s confession for some minutes. None of them noticed the amused looks that were exchanged between the two Elves. Finally, Valandil gave Laurendil a shrewd look.

"Do you think your ship appearing as it did after that storm Eärnur mentioned had anything to do with the disappearance of the people of Nindamos?"

Now it was Laurendil’s turn to look surprised. "Anything is possible," he averred. "We won’t know for sure until we reach the ship."

"How do we do that?" Ercassë asked. "Valandil doesn’t think we can all fit in that one boat that Fiondil found."

"We’ll just wait for it to re-appear," Laurendil said. "Voronwë has his instructions. He knows to look for us here. I’m sure we’ll be seeing the ship soon."

"In the meantime," Eärnur added, "we can all do with some sleep. Tonight, I intend to sleep in my own bed."

"Your own bed?" Vandiel exclaimed.

Eärnur nodded, giving her a smile. "The bed that I’ve slept in these last four hundred years. It’s still there, along with some of my personal possessions. I found them while you were putting our meal together. So, now, if you all will excuse me." He stood and gave them a short bow.

"But what about us?" Ercassë asked, jumping up. "Where are we supposed to sleep?"

Eärnur swept his arms wide. "Child, you have an entire village of empty beds. Choose one." Without another word the Elf strode purposefully off, climbing the dark bluff towards the village above them. For a moment or two none of the others said a word, then Fiondil shook himself. "I think I’ll just sleep here on the beach," he said diffidently.

Valandil stood up, brushing some sand off his leggings. "In some of the houses I noticed that they left behind pillows and blankets. I’ll go fetch some. I think I would prefer to leave the village to Eärnur."

Laurendil laughed, standing as well. "I’ll give you a hand."

Fifteen minutes later, four Mortals and one Elf laid themselves down beside the dying embers of the bonfire, wrapped in blankets, allowing the waves shushing upon the beach to lull them to sleep, while somewhere in the village a lone Elf lay dreamlessly on a rude cot with a smile on his face.

****

Eäremírë: (Quenya) Sea-jewel.