96: The Quest Begins

Glorfindel spent the better part of the time aboard ship staring relentlessly at the shore, trying to recognize landmarks. At one point when Captain Falastur happened to be standing next to him, he pointed to a particular high rock that looked down upon the shore. They had reached the northern confines of the Guarded Realm, upon the borders of Araman.

“There,” he said, “I am pretty sure that is where the Lord of Mandos met us as we trudged northward and spoke his Doom.”

Falastur gave the ellon a strange look. “You are sure it was he and not some lesser Ainu?”

Glorfindel nodded, his eyes narrowing against the sun glare dancing on the waves. “Yes. When I asked him he admitted it.” He turned to the captain with a wry grin. “Do you think any other could have uttered a Doom against us but the Doomsman of Arda? Though we could not see him clearly, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind who stood there on that rock.”

Falastur shook his head in wonder and disbelief. “I was not born until long after,” he commented. “I simply cannot imagine what it was like for any of you. I have heard the tales of the Kinslaying from those who survived it and even from one or two who did not and have since been reborn.”

“How do the Reborn feel about it?” Glorfindel asked in curiosity.

“Oddly enough, they have no hatred for their slayers,” the captain replied. “They claim that in Mandos they were cleansed of any such need for vengeance as others who survived have felt at times and their deaths were but a... a temporary interruption of their lives.”

Glorfindel nodded. “That is very true,” he said, looking thoughtful. “Yes, a brief interruption and then nothing is the same afterwards.”

The captain, seeing the pensive mood that had fallen upon his passenger, wisely stepped away to see to his ship, leaving Glorfindel alone at the rails, staring out upon the shore, his memories elsewhere and elsewhen.

The Rock of the Doom was now far behind them, already out of sight.

****

Early on the third day, they ran into bad weather and Glorfindel spent the time being thoroughly sick. The storm would not let up and Captain Falastur and his crew had a time securing the ship. The waves towered over the ship and everything got wet. Finally, Falastur ordered his first mate to make for shelter. They had reached a part of the land where there were many coves, both shallow and deep, and they made for one that was close by. Glorfindel didn’t care. He was too sick and too weary from being sick, lying in his bunk and wishing he were dead.

“I think I’m almost glad I ended up walking to Beleriand,” he said to himself when he was more or less conscious again. The ship’s rolling had calmed somewhat and he did not feel so queasy anymore. He struggled out of his cabin and to the deck to see what was happening.

Looking about he saw that the ship was anchored in a deep harbor. Rain still lashed them, but the waves were not as high, being broken by reef and rocks that spanned the entrance into the cove. He stumbled across the deck to where Captain Falastur was standing by the wheel with the first mate. Both sailors gave him grins that were not quite sympathetic to Glorfindel’s mind. The captain reached into a pouch and pulled out a ginger biscuit, handing it to the ellon.

“This may help settle your stomach somewhat, my lord,” he said and Glorfindel took the biscuit gratefully, nibbling on it as he glanced about.

“How long will we stay here?” he asked.

“It depends on the storm,” Falastur answered. “Normally we would simply have ridden it out, but we are close enough to where we planned to let you off that I feared we would overshoot the landing site and most likely we would have had to make for open sea and Lord Ulmo alone knows where we would have ended up.”

“How far do you think we are from the peninsula?” Glorfindel asked. The ginger biscuit seemed to be doing its work for he was feeling more alive and was now sure that he would not be dying any time soon.

“Perhaps a day’s sailing,” the captain replied.

“If I were to travel from here on land, would I recognize it?”

Falastur nodded. “It’s the only sizeable peninsula in the area. There is no way you could mistake it for another.” He gave Glorfindel a considering look. “You mean to leave the ship here?”

Glorfindel nodded. “I think I need to feel firm earth under me and this close will not make the journey that much longer. Do you think I could make the peninsula in a couple of days?”

“Hard to tell,” Falastur admitted. “I have never traveled this way by land, so I cannot say, but certainly it should not take you more than two or three days to reach it.”

“Then, I think I will disembark here,” Glorfindel said, “though I am not sure how we will get my horse off the ship.”

“Do not concern yourself with that, lord,” the captain assured him. “We will manage. If you are determined to leave the ship now then we should wait until the morning. The storm will still be raging but we will have more light to see by.”

Glorfindel nodded. “Thank you, Captain. I appreciate it. And now, if you don’t mind, I think I will go to the galley and see if I can find more ginger biscuits and some tea.”

The captain and first mate gave him wide grins. Falastur called to one of the sailors. “Go to the galley and ask Cook for some ginger biscuits and some tea for our guest,” he ordered and the sailor went off with a salute. Falastur then took Glorfindel’s arm. “Come, friend. Let me see you back to your cabin.”

Glorfindel did not protest and, in fact, he was grateful for the ellon’s assistance. Soon he was ensconced in his bunk, a bag of ginger biscuits by his side and a steaming pot of tea on the little table next to the bunk. Not long afterwards he was fast asleep and did not waken again until the next morning.

****

As predicted, the storm still continued though it seemed to be abating somewhat for the waves inside the harbor were not as tall as they had been earlier. Rain still fell but more gently and the daylight helped with seeing what had to be done. Getting a horse off a ship where there is no place to dock proved an interesting exercise in logistics. Captain Falastur explained to Glorfindel what they planned. “Since I knew there would be no place along the peninsula where we could come directly to shore, I had my crew construct this raft.”

He pointed to where several of the crew were lashing some planks together to form a raft. There were rails on three sides but the fourth was open. Glorfindel could see that the raft was large enough for a horse and at least two or three people. Captain Falastur ordered the ship as close to the shore as possible, then had the raft lowered. Alagos was brought on deck and Glorfindel thought he didn’t look much better than he himself felt and he suspected the horse was more than ready to be back on land. He watched with interest as the crew brought out a harness and slipped it around the horse (Glorfindel had to speak softly to his steed, assuring him that all was well), then they attached the harness to ropes and a winch and began hauling the horse up and over the side of the ship and lowering him to the raft. Glorfindel was already on the raft to greet Alagos and keep him calm. Then all his supplies were lowered. Two sailors manned poles and the raft was released from its moorings. Glorfindel gave the ship a cheery wave and a shout of thanks and there were many calls from the crew wishing him luck.

The trip to the shore did not take long, though the waves washing over the deck of the raft made things rather wet for all of them and the water was cold, but in a space of about ten minutes the sailors grounded the raft on the beach, moving the raft so the open side was facing the shore. It took only a couple of minutes to get the horse off and all Glorfindel’s supplies and then the raft was back in the water, heading for the ship. Glorfindel watched until he saw the sailors back on board, then gave them another wave and headed north along the shoreline, walking rather than riding with Alagos following him. It was now nearly noon.

“I do not think we will go too far today, Alagos,” Glorfindel said. “I just want to go far enough to get my land legs back.” Alagos snorted in agreement.

They rounded the headland, leaving the cove and the ship behind. Before them Glorfindel saw a long stretch of beach which was more open to the sea and the storm still raging. Waves pounded the shore and they had to make their way along a narrow strip of gravel before they could reach sand. Glorfindel looked about, hoping to find some sort of shelter but the land was mostly dunes and there were few trees, though there were plenty of shrubs and stiff looking grasses.

“I really do not remember any of this,” he said out loud. “I cannot remember if we traveled inland for a time or if we kept to the shoreline. I guess it hardly matters now.” He huddled deeper into his cloak, pulling the hood further forward. “Come, Alagos. Let’s keep moving and perhaps we will find some rocks or something in which to shelter. I hope this storm dies down soon or it’s going to be a very wet journey.”

Alagos deigned not to answer.

The going was slow as they trudged over wet sand but after about three hours they eventually came to a small copse of scraggly looking fir trees that huddled against the wind about a hundred yards or so from the shore. Glorfindel made for them and soon they were in their midst. By now, much to the relief of both the ellon and the horse, the rain had let up and there were actual breaks in the clouds with the sun peeping through, though it was still none too warm. Rummaging in his bags for something to eat, Glorfindel found a small bundle of sticks wrapped in oiled cloth and realized that they must have come from the galley’s stores. He silently thanked Captain Falastur for the gift and set about making a fire, hoping to dry out a bit before moving on. He let Alagos fend for himself while he hunched over the small fire and chewed on some waybread and an apple, washing it all down with a cup of tea.

In spite of the slow going and the rain, Glorfindel felt he had made the right decision to leave the ship when he did. He felt better with solid earth beneath him and until he had left the ship he did not feel as if he were truly on his quest in search of Eärendil. He hoped that when he did find him that some of his nagging questions would be answered. He wondered if he should continue on or remain where he was for the rest of the day and rest. His seasickness had left him feeling weak and he was tired. Alagos was happily munching on the stiff grass and now that he was warmer and drier, the thought of moving on did not appeal to him. He decided to spend the night where he was, for he could not depend on finding shelter if he continued. So, he collected some semi-dry branches that had fallen from the trees and placed them near the fire before stretching out, watching the waves hit the beach and thinking of his road and what he hoped to find at the end of it. The shursh-shush sound of the surf was mesmerizing and somewhere along the way, he fell asleep.

****

Water dripping off the ends of the pine needles above him and onto his face woke Glorfindel and he cursed the rain that was falling again. It was still light out, but the light was dim behind storm-grey clouds. And while he could not see the sun,  Glorfindel’s time sense told him that there was perhaps another hour, no more, before the sun set. He scrambled to protect the fire which was sputtering and threatening to go out and as he worked to keep it going, he glanced around to see where his horse was. He was relieved to see that Alagos was standing a few feet away under one of the other trees, his back to the wind. Looking out towards the ocean he saw that the water was closer than it had been earlier and realized that the tide had been coming in while he slept.

The rain, at least, was not heavy, more of a drizzle, but it was still annoying. What concerned Glorfindel was that the storm that must be raging further out to sea would come inland and drive the surf past the high water mark. He was not sure just how safe he and Alagos were among the trees. His knowledge of the sea was negligible and he really had no idea. He cast around to see where he might relocate his camp if the need arose and saw something that in his tiredness earlier he had not noticed: further up the coast, perhaps about a half mile away, the land which had remained relatively flat now rose into a series of low hills that stretched to the northwest, forming a barrier. The sea at high tide came almost to the foot of the nearer hills where they came down towards the coast, and he knew that he would have to wait for low tide before continuing around them.

He had a sudden memory of climbing over such hills and remembered that at the time the sea had come up further onto the shore, lapping against the nearer hills so that it was impossible for them to stay along the coast. They had to make their way through the hills, sometimes losing sight of Fëanor’s ships, which had not pleased Ñolofinwë or his sons. He recalled being sent as one of the scouts to climb to the top of the hills to keep an eye on the ships while the rest of the host made its way through the narrow valleys until they had gotten to the other side of the barrier and could again march along the shore.

If he remembered aright, it was no great distance to pass through them, but it was tedious for the valleys between the hills were narrow and steep, more like ravines than true valleys and some dead-ended so one was forced to backtrack. In the darkness with only starlight to guide them, even the scouts could not always see if a valley continued or not until it was too late. It had taken some time to get everyone through them and Ñolofinwë had chafed at the delay, fearing that his brother would not stay near them but sail on while they were still looking for a way through the hills. That fear was unfounded, at least, Glorfindel thought to himself grimly, at that time. Later, though....

He shook his head to clear it of dark thoughts and wondered if he should make for the hills while there was still enough light to see by. The hills themselves were treeless though there were plenty of shrubs that he could use to form a rough shelter. He did not intend to climb through the hills, but hoped that with low tide he would be able to continue around them, keeping to the shore road.

Even as he was just making up his mind to douse the fire and make for the hills, Alagos lifted his head and whinnied, alerting Glorfindel. “What is it?” he asked but the answer came almost immediately for he heard an indistinct shout coming from somewhere. He moved out from under the trees to get a better look. Another shout came and he looked seaward and saw a small boat with a single mast, its sail nearly in shreds, bobbing on the ocean waves which crashed over it, and Glorfindel knew that it would not be long before the boat was swamped completely. Movement on the boat caught his attention and he saw someone waving and then there was the sound of barking and he could see a dog leaning over the side of the boat as if ready to jump. It was obvious that whoever was on the boat was in danger of being drowned.

Without thinking about it he pulled off his boots even as he started running into the surf, struggling to reach the boat. It was a foolish thing to do, for he was not a good swimmer (the Maiar had taught him the rudiments of swimming while he was training with them in Oromë’s Forest) and he was as much in danger of drowning as those on the beleaguered boat. When he reached them and was clinging to the side he could see that the single passenger was an ellon with the silver hair of the Teleri and the dog was a wolfhound.

“Are you daft?” the ellon shouted at him. “Whatever possessed you to risk your fool neck by coming out here?”

“I thought I was rescuing you!” Glorfindel shouted back.

“Rescuing me?” the ellon exclaimed with disgust. “If anything, I’ll be rescuing you by the looks of it. Here, climb in.” With that the ellon reached over and with surprising strength pulled Glorfindel into the boat, leaving him sprawled a bit. The hound greeted him with a lick or two on his face as he tried to sit up.

“Stay where you are,” the Teler commanded as he sat at the tiller. “You’re rocking the boat.”

“I’m rocking the boat?” Glorfindel protested. “This whole thing is about to go under the waves permanently and you’re complaining that I’m rocking the boat?”

The other ellon flashed him a smile but did not say anything more. Now that he was sitting in the boat Glorfindel felt himself getting seasick as the little craft rocked back and forth and up and down through the breakers, the waves crashing over them, making it almost impossible to see the shore. He groaned and hunched himself up, hoping he would not be sick, thus embarrassing himself even further.

“We’re almost there,” the Teler shouted. “Just hang on a little longer. You can be sick all you want when we land, but not before.”

Glorfindel tried to come up with a retort, but a wave washed over him and he closed his eyes and hoped that Lord Námo wouldn't be too angry with him for drowning. Then, the boat gave a lurch and there was the crunch of the keel hitting the sand. At once the Teler jumped out and grabbed hold of the boat and pulled it up to the beach and Glorfindel sighed with relief that there was no more movement. The wolfhound licked his face again, as if to assure him that all was well now and then he felt himself being lifted out of the boat like a baby. Before he could protest, he was planted on his feet, though his knees felt so wobbly that he fell to the ground and was thoroughly sick.

His misery knew no bounds but at last the spasms ended and he actually felt much better. He scooped wet sand over the mess and then stumbled to his feet to see where the other ellon and his hound had gotten themselves. The Teler was fishing some supplies out of the boat and bringing them above the waterline. He flashed Glorfindel a smile.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

Glorfindel nodded. “Sorry,” he said, feeling he should apologize but not entirely sure why.

The ellon shrugged the apology away. “So do you have a camp?” he enquired. “Somewhere nice and dry, I hope.”

Glorfindel pointed to the right where the trees were. “Just there,” he replied. “I am afraid it’s not all that dry but it’s probably drier.”

“Well, we’ll just have to make do then, won’t we?” the Teler said as he slung a haversack over his shoulders and grabbed a fishing rod. “My name is Mánatamir, by the way, and that oversized puppy is Cundu.”

“Glorfindel,” the Noldo said. “An appropriate name for such a handsome creature.”

The creature in question did not look too handsome at the moment, looking more like a dirty wet rag, but Mánatamir just smiled. “That he is, or he will be once he’s dried out. So, do we stand here all night or....”

“Sorry,” Glorfindel said in chagrin. “Here, let me give you a hand.” He took hold of the fishing rod and another small haversack and led the way back into the trees. The fire had gone out in the meantime and he had trouble getting it relit, cursing under his breath. Alagos eyed the stranger placidly enough but snorted in contempt when he spied the hound. Mánatamir had to speak sharply to Cundu, ordering him to keep away from the horse. The hound, surprisingly, obeyed at once, much to Glorfindel’s and Alagos’ relief.

“Here, I think I can do a better job of getting this fire going,” Mánatamir said as he crouched down beside Glorfindel. “I’m an old hand at getting fires started in inclement weather. Why don’t you see to dinner? I don’t know about you but I’m starved.”

Glorfindel nodded and began rummaging in his own packs wondering if he had enough to feed two people. He had not brought too much provender for he meant to hunt knowing that there would be some game along the way. As if the Teler could read his mind, Mánatamir looked up and gestured with his chin at the haversack that Glorfindel had carried. “There should be some victuals in that if it didn’t get all wet. Let’s see what can be eaten and what’s not fit for anyone but the fishes.”

As it turned out, the stranger’s food was well wrapped in oiled cloths and quite dry. In a matter of minutes, Mánatamir had a fine fire blazing (Glorfindel had not seen how he had done it) and soon they were both munching on a couple of meat pies (Mánatamir shared his with Cundu) and drinking hot tea. By now the rain had stopped again and the clouds were breaking up to reveal Isil riding the heavens, casting a silvery light upon them.

Mánatamir glanced up through the tree branches at the sight and smiled. “Ah, Tilion, my old friend. It is good to see you again.”

“You know him?” Glorfindel couldn’t help asking.

“In a sense,” the Teler answered, “or rather, I should say, I like to think I know him. He has often been my sole companion, save for Cundu here, on lonely sea voyages.”

Glorfindel nodded. “Where were you headed?” he asked.

“Home,” Mánatamir answered and Glorfindel assumed he meant Alqualondë. “I was doing quite well and figured I would make it before the worst of the winter storms began, but I miscalculated or Ossë decided to make my life miserable. Either way, I decided I needed to get to shore before I drowned.”

“I thought you needed help when I heard you shouting and saw you waving,” Glorfindel said with a rueful sigh.

“And I appreciate the gesture, but I had shouted to let you know I was coming in, not because I was in need of assistance. I thought you would just wait on the shore for me and help me get the boat up the beach. I didn’t expect you to swim out. That was foolish and very dangerous. The undertow could have swept you away and not even Lord Ulmo would have been able to save you.”

There was little that Glorfindel could say to that so he kept silent, quietly sipping his tea and enjoying the warmth of the fire. Mánatamir gave him an enquiring look. “Not to be rude, but what are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“I’m on a quest,” Glorfindel answered.

“A quest, is it?” Mánatamir retorted with a raised eyebrow. “And what sort of quest are you on?”

“I am looking for someone,” Glorfindel replied, not willing to explain everything to this stranger just yet.

“Hmmm.... that narrows it down considerably,” was the Teler’s response.

“What do you mean?” Glorfindel asked in surprise. It had been the last thing he had expected to hear from the other ellon.

“Oh, well, I only meant that there are so many reasons why people go on quests,” Mánatamir explained. “Looking for someone is just one reason. So was this something that was enjoined upon you or are you taking up this quest on your own initiative?”

“To tell you the truth, I really don’t know,” Glorfindel answered. “There is a mystery I must solve for my own satisfaction, if no one else’s. No one has said, ‘Go on this quest’, yet there is something within me that says that I will find no peace until I have found some answers.”

“Then it is the prompting of your heart that brings you to this desolate place,” Mánatamir said with a nod.

“I suppose it is,” Glorfindel averred. He gave the ellon a mischievous grin. “Not to be rude, but just what are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?”

Mánatamir laughed. “Fair enough. I suppose you can say that I am a wanderer. I do not like staying in one place for very long, and I enjoy exploring new lands. I have been sailing through the Shadowy Sea, exploring the islands. But with winter coming on I decided I preferred to be elsewhere and was heading back home.”

“So you will be heading on in the morning,” Glorfindel said.

“You mean with the boat?” Mánatamir asked and at Glorfindel’s nod he shook his head. “That boat’s not going anywhere. You were too sick to notice and with all the water washing over us you didn’t see the nice little hole where I ran into some underwater rocks just as I was making my way here. Even without the hole, that sail is beyond repair and I have nothing with which to make repairs anyway. So, it looks as if it’s going to be a very long walk back.”

“Unless you come with me,” Glorfindel said impulsively.

Mánatamir raised an eyebrow. “And just where is that exactly?”

“I am looking for Lady Elwing’s Tower,” Glorfindel answered. “I was told it was somewhere in this area.”

“Hmmm.... I remember seeing it once but I was far out to sea at the time and I never came to it. Still, if you don’t mind the company....” Glorfindel shook his head. “Then Cundu and I accept your offer.”

“Where did you get him?” Glorfindel asked, gesturing with his chin at the hound who lay at Mánatamir’s feet. Now that he was dried out a bit, Glorfindel admired the hound’s glossy white fur and intelligent-looking eyes.

“A gift from Lord Oromë,” the Teler answered. “He said that one should always have a faithful companion when one is on a long and lonely journey. I suppose your horse serves the same purpose as Cundu here.”

Glorfindel nodded. “Yes. Alagos is quite faithful.”

“A strange name,” Mánatamir said, “as is yours though I do not mean to insult you or your horse.”

“No insult,” Glorfindel said. “Alagos means ‘windstorm’. Both our names are Sindarin, the language spoken among the elves of Endórë. I used to live there.”

“Ah.... well that would explain it.”

For a long moment neither spoke, merely enjoying the warmth of the fire and even the warmth of companionship. Finally, Glorfindel stirred. “Why don’t you sleep?” he suggested. “I will take first watch.”

“Do you really think we need to keep watches?” the Teler enquired in surprise.

“We are alone in the wilderness and I do not know what dangers there might be,” Glorfindel said. “I will wake you in about five hours.”

Mánatamir nodded and settled down with his head leaning against Cundu’s side and soon master and hound were both fast asleep. Glorfindel added another branch to the fire and poured himself some more tea, all the while contemplating many things, not the least of which was his new companion and wondering what his real story was.

****

Words are Quenya.

Mánatamir: ‘Blessed heirloom’.

Cundu: ‘Prince’. According to Tolkien, this is a poetic or archaic form.