14: What They Found

In the morning they climbed the tower with Maglor leading. Unlike the towers of the Emyn Beraid, the stairs here were enclosed with shallow landings marking each floor. They had to go carefully, though, for some of the steps were crumbled, nor did they stop along the way to explore. This tower was only a little less tall than the one which had once held a palantír but eventually they climbed out onto the roof and went to the parapet to look out. The Gulf lay before them and they could see several miles upriver as well as down and it was downriver that held their attention.

“That headland must mark the location of Harlond,” Maglor said, pointing further west where a precipice rose on the other side of the Gulf. It was just on the edge of their sight, nearly a hundred miles away. “There’s no sign of the Sea, though. It looks as if the entire Gulf has emptied out.”

“The question being, how far out?” Ragnor commented. “Dare we travel that far or should we return to the camp?”

“We don’t have provisions for an extended journey,” Celepharn pointed out. “And even if we did, it would take us close to two weeks to reach the Straits and then return. Don’t forget the quicksand. We’ll have to go carefully to avoid any more such traps, so it’s likely the entire journey might be even longer, and that’s assuming that the Sea lies just beyond the Straits. Who knows how far it’s actually receded.”

“Even if we did make the journey, what then?” Voronwë added. “Winter is nigh. We’ll not be wanting to travel during that time, I don’t think.”

The others nodded, even Maglor. “We should at least explore the city as fully as possible, though,” he said and the others agreed.

“Voronwë and I will go back over to the other side while you and Ragnor explore this part of the city,” Celepharn suggested.

Maglor, however, objected. “We’ll all stay on this side. It’ll be easier to keep track of everyone that way in case anyone encounters trouble. Once we’ve explored this part of the city, we’ll cross back over and do a thorough search there before heading back to camp. I told Denethor that we would not remain here long, just long enough to see what, if anything, this city has to offer us.”

“Then the sooner we get down from here, the sooner we are on our way back to the others,” Ragnor pointed out and the others chuckled as they headed back down the stairs. “We can quarter the city,” Ragnor continued as they filed down. “Maglor, why don’t you take the palace area and I’ll check out what used to be the waterfront. Celepharn, go west and Voronwë can go east. We’ll meet back here later with our reports.”

Everyone agreed with the plan and once they were down, they split up. Maglor remained where he was, taking his time exploring the ruins of Gil-galad’s palace. When the king had died, he knew, Elrond had refused to return to Lindon to take up the crown to which he was heir. That did not surprise him, knowing his foster son as he did. What had surprised him was that his cousin Galadriel had not returned to Lindon to claim the throne but had remained in Lothlórien. He suspected that Celeborn had been a deciding influence, for the Sindarin prince had not cared for living in a city of stone; Lothlórien was more to his liking. Círdan had also refused to take up residence in Gil-galad’s palace, preferring to remain in his own villa. And so the king’s apartments had been sealed, though the rest of the palace continued to be used by the various administrative offices whose heads became the Ruling Council overseeing the running of the city.

Sighing a bit at the memory, Maglor proceeded to explore what was left of the palace and the buildings surrounding it. For some reason this area seemed more ruined than the rest of the city and Maglor wondered if perhaps the glaciers had stopped their southward flow at this point. Certainly East Mithlond was in a better state of preservation. He really had no idea just how far south the glaciers had come or how many times in the interminable years they had receded and then returned. Glancing northwestward as he moved from one building to another to where the southern flank of the Ered Luin rose above the city only a scant ten miles away, he could see one such glacier hugging the mountainside. He shivered at the sight, then resolutely turned his attention to a low building that must have been the royal stables. He refused to look at the mountains after that.

It took them two full days to explore West Mithlond. Each night they gathered in the tower to share their reports, but the city, at least on this side, was eerily empty.

“There’s no sign that I could see that any wild creature ever made its den here,” Voronwë commented on the second evening as they huddled around the fire. “I find that almost disturbing.”

“And have you noticed how quiet it is here?” Celepharn added in a whisper. “Even the wind seems… muted.”

They had all noticed it and had unconsciously spoken in soft tones, as if afraid to disturb the silence that had settled over the ruins. None of them could explain it, except to point out that there was a similar sense of silence surrounding the White Towers of the Emyn Beraid. “And yet, there was evidence of habitation there,” Maglor pointed out.

“So what do we do?” Ragnor asked. “Do we continue exploring this side of the city or move back across and check out the other side?”

“We found nothing here,” Maglor said, “though certainly we could move in if we wished. There doesn’t seem to be any game around. Yet we might find some in the mountains and there might be fish in the river. I wouldn’t mind having fish every once in a while as a nice change from goat.”

“There’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” Voronwë said with a smile.

Maglor nodded. “But, truly, where we are now is no bad place and we are assured a good supply of food through the winter however monotonous the menu. Also, I think the Emyn Beraid will give us better protection. Mithlond is too open.”

The others nodded in agreement. “Then, tomorrow, let us return to the other side,” Ragnor said. “East Mithlond is not as large as West Mithlond, so it shouldn’t take us as long to explore it thoroughly. We should plan to return to camp the day after tomorrow or the next day after at the latest.”

They settled the order of their watches and this time Maglor had the first watch. The others settled down by the fire though he noticed that Celepharn and Voronwë did not go to sleep immediately, but spoke quietly between them. Maglor stationed himself at the doorway, which looked west as nearly every door in the city did, looking out, refusing to listen to their conversation. Instead he stared up at the stars.

The sky was clear of clouds and the stars shone with unusual brightness. He saw Eärendil’s Star hanging just above the western horizon, twinkling between the buildings. The sight never failed to move him and he felt his right hand spasm involuntarily, the pain too long a part of him for him to take much notice. His mind drifted and he idly wondered if the Silmaril he had thrown into the Sea would be uncovered now that the Sea had receded. Could he find it? Would he want to? Would Lord Ulmo be that careless or uncaring? He did not know and there was a sudden, deep ache within him to look upon the Jewel he had held for a brief time.

Pure foolishness! He could not have honestly said where he’d been when he cast the Silmaril from him. The Host of the West had camped on the shore of what became known as North Lindon, but the exact location? He had no idea. And more than likely they would remain on the southern shore of the Gulf as they made their way to the Sea. There would be no real reason to come north.

He sighed and looked back to see Celepharn and Voronwë still talking. “I’m going to take a walk around the tower,” he told them and they nodded. He moved to his right and paced slowly around the tower, silently going through his ritual of forgiveness, calling to mind a certain Mortal and his family. He had met them only the one time, the father inviting him to join him and his family for an evening meal. He had repaid them with a song or two and then had left, never seeing them again. As far as he knew he had not wronged them in any way, but he was taking no chances, and so he named them, one by one, beginning with the father and ending with the babe in the mother’s arms, asking them for forgiveness for anything he may have inadvertently done or not done, said or not said, that had caused them harm. And then he mentally watched them turn away and fade into the night.

He was halfway around the tower when he came to a sudden stop. The night was silent. No sound, save the moaning of the wind off the mountains, intruded. So what had brought him to a halt in his perambulation? He glanced around, suddenly wary, feeling as if he were being watched, and yet, he could not sense anything or anyone. He drew his sword as quietly as he could, mentally gauging how far he must go to reach the tower’s doorway and alert his companions, and began walking again. He did not run, but his pace quickened and he reached the doorway without incident.

“Something’s out here,” he whispered to the others.

Celepharn and Voronwë were instantly on their feet and Ragnor, who had been sleeping, woke at the touch of Voronwë’s hand on his shoulder.

“Do you know what it is?” Celepharn asked, joining Maglor at the doorway.

Maglor shook his head. “I had a sudden feeling of being watched. I haven’t had that feeling in a long time, so I don’t think it is my imagination. Something or someone is out there.”

“Can you pinpoint the direction?”

Maglor closed his eyes, mentally reviewing his path, trying to determine where he’d been in relation to everything else when he had felt eyes upon him. “It was in the ruins of the palace itself,” he finally said, opening his eyes, giving them a puzzled look. “And now that I think about it, it seems as if whoever or whatever was watching me was doing so from above, yet that would not be possible.”

“Show us,” Ragnor said and Maglor led them back to where he’d been.

“Look!” he said in a whisper, pointing. “You can see where this part of the palace is completely ruined.”

And it was. The walls here were almost nonexistent and no tower stood at the corner as part of one did on the other side of the inner court.

“Maglor, you are sure that you are not letting your imagination rule you?” Ragnor asked gently. “I have had similar feelings of being watched while we’ve been here, but I put it down to my imagination peopling the darkness and the silence with what is not there and dismissed it.”

Maglor hesitated. He did not blame Ragnor for his skepticism; they had all found the emptiness of the city disturbing. Having even a pack of the wild cats roaming the streets would have been preferable to the emptiness around them.

“Do you still sense anything?” Celepharn asked.

Maglor shook his head. “No. Not anymore. I’m sorry. Perhaps you are right. Perhaps the city is getting to me. I will be glad when we are away from here. Too many ghosts, as a Mortal of my acquaintance once said. Never really understood what he meant by that, but I think I’m beginning to.”

Ragnor clapped him on the shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “We’ll all be glad to be rid of this place. Why don’t we go back to the fire? It’s nearly time for me to relieve you, so I’ll take the rest of your watch.”

Maglor nodded reluctantly and they went back inside the tower. Ragnor took up a position by the door while Celepharn and Voronwë settled down to sleep. Maglor, however, sat staring at the flames, feeling foolish for his recent panic, glad that the others had not laughed at him outright. It was only when Celepharn woke to relieve Ragnor that he finally crawled under his blanket and willed himself to sleep, but his dreams were troubled and after a while he simply got up again and shared the last watch with Voronwë, neither of them speaking as they watched the night slowly giving way to day.

As soon as they finished breaking their fast, they set out to cross the Gulf. They did not come down at the same place they had come up, but were led by Ragnor further north, for while he had been exploring the wharf district, he had noticed where a sandbank had built up along the river, causing it to shallow out.

“As long as it isn’t quicksand, we can cross there,” he told them as they were wending their way through the city. Celepharn volunteered to take point once they reached the floor of the valley, using his sword to test the ground, but they encountered no quicksand and the river only came to just above their ankles as they crossed. Once on the other side they quickly climbed the cliff and were soon looking upon East Mithlond. This was the newer part of the city, Voronwë told them, settled about a thousand years after the Havens were established on the west bank.

“Most of the nobles and merchant-lords had their villas on the other side,” he explained, “and originally this had been a fishing village, but when Gil-galad had his engineers build the bridge that connected both coasts, some of the nobles built summer villas on this side. Eventually, others migrated over the bridge and settled here and so the city was expanded.”

“It seems to be in a less ruinous state than West Mithlond,” Celepharn observed.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Maglor commented, “and wondering if it’s because the glacier was stopped by the Gulf and came no further south so this part of the city was entirely untouched by ice.”

“Possible,” Voronwë allowed. “I guess we’ll never know for sure. Anyway, how do we want to do this? Shall we quarter the city again? I’ll go west this time. I wish to see if the street where I once lived is still there.”

“I’ll stay here and check out the wharf district,” Maglor offered and that left Ragnor going south and Celepharn going east. There was a square that was not far from where they had come up to the city which had been the main fish market according to Voronwë and they agreed to meet there later. Maglor said he would scout out a suitable place for them to set up camp while he was exploring and to that the others agreed before they went their separate ways.

As with West Mithlond, it was the brooding silence that Maglor noticed most. There was an air of desolation all about and, in spite of the bright sun and blue skies, he felt depressed. If there had even been some gulls flying about screaming at him it would have been fine, but the utter silence unnerved him and he could not forget the feeling he had had of being watched.

Shaking his head to dispel his mood, he began systematically scouting the wharf district, but it was empty of any sign that anyone or anything had taken up residence. The warehouses were more or less intact, though most were open to the sky, their roofs having fallen in over the ages. He found a small area just off the fish market square that he thought would be suitable for a camp and marked its location before moving on.

Moving west along the quays, he came upon what had to have been one of the shipyards where the grey ships of the Falathrim had been built and he felt a twinge of excitement, half hoping that he might actually find a ship waiting for them. Even as the thought crossed his mind, though, he dismissed it. It was an absurd hope. How would they even get a ship down to the river and then to the Sea?

Still, it was a nice fantasy and he indulged in it for a few minutes as he checked out the buildings, imagining the many ways in which they would bring a ship down to the river and then launch it, sailing away to Valinor. “Maybe we could convince Lord Ulmo to come and carry it to the Sea for us,” he said aloud, chuckling to himself, and his mood brightened at the image that he had of the Lord of Waters carrying a ship on his shoulder like a bundle of wood while the Elves trailed behind him.

But there was no ship, not even a spar. Any wood would have long since rotted away, so, while he was a little disappointed that his fantasy did not come to light, he was not feeling as depressed as he had earlier. A bit of levity at a Vala’s expense was no bad thing, he decided. He vaguely recalled earlier, brighter and more innocent times of working at Lord Aulë’s forge, jesting with the Worldsmith and his Maiar as they worked, his brothers joining in. There had been much hilarity between them and he still recalled Lord Aulë’s booming laugh.

He sighed, vaguely wishing he could erase all those intervening centuries and return to that more innocent time, secure in the love of the Valar.

“Find anything?”

Maglor startled, whipping his sword out before he even turned to find Voronwë standing before him. The other ellon stared at him in surprise.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” Maglor exclaimed angrily as he thrust his sword back into its sheath.

“Sorry,” Voronwë said. “Next time I’ll sing out.” He narrowed his eyes. “You all right? You look a bit… flustered.”

“I’m fine,” Maglor snarled and then took a deep breath to reclaim his equilibrium, realizing that Voronwë was not at fault for his own inattentiveness. “What did you find?”

“Nothing and I suspect the others will also find nothing. This city is more than empty. It’s dead. There is no life here, not anymore.”

“I think you’re right,” Maglor conceded. “I found a place for us to camp just off that fish market square. Why don’t we head back and wait for the others to return?”

Voronwë nodded and they headed back. When Ragnor and Celepharn returned about an hour or so later, they were met with a fire and the smell of a stew bubbling away. Later, as they were sitting around the fire comparing notes while eating, Celepharn turn to Maglor.

“I don’t think it was your imagination last night,” he said.

Maglor gave him a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, all the time I was exploring, I had the distinct feeling of being watched, yet, when I turned around there was no one there and there was no trace of anyone having come through here before us.” He shrugged. “Maybe I was just allowing the place to get to me, but I’m not entirely sure.”

“Do you think it could be one of the… one of the Houseless?” Voronwë offered hesitantly, looking a bit ill as he spoke.

Maglor shuddered and the other two paled. The idea of being houseless for all the ages of Arda and perhaps even beyond was too terrible a fate for any of them to contemplate.

“It would explain why we can’t see whoever it is watching us,” Ragnor finally said.

“What should we do?” Celepharn asked somewhat worriedly.

Maglor shrugged. “Nothing, I would think, except to maintain our vigilance. Frankly, I’m ready to leave, shake the dust of this city from my boots and return to camp this very night. I doubt we’ll find anything of interest tomorrow. I say we leave at first light.”

The others nodded. “Then let us plan to do so,” Ragnor said. “Celepharn, it’s your turn to take first watch. I’ll take the last one. Maglor, you relieve Celepharn and Voronwë will follow.”

Everyone agreed to that and this time Maglor settled himself down to rest, though he doubted he would actually sleep. He would not feel completely comfortable until they were back with the others. So, it was with some surprise when he found himself being shaken and Celepharn whispering urgently in his ear. It took a few seconds for his mind to register the fact that he’d actually fallen asleep and that Celepharn was not waking him to take his watch. He was sounding too frantic for that.

“I’m not imagining it,” he heard Celepharn say. “There’s something or someone out there. I swear.”

The others were also awake. Maglor nodded and stood and went to the doorway, being sure to stay to one side so he was not immediately visible to whoever or whatever was out there. The others clustered around him and they went completely still as only Elves could do.

“There, where the shadows are deepest,” Ragnor whispered in Maglor’s ear, pointing slightly to his right. Maglor glanced in the direction Ragnor had indicated. There was a building similar to the one they were in. He’d explored it earlier and there had been no sign of anyone or anything, yet, now he could somehow sense eyes upon them from that direction. Without consciously thinking about it, he stepped out.

“Show yourself!” he called out. “Come out, for we mean you no harm.” To emphasize his point, he made a show of unbuckling his sword belt and handing it back to Ragnor who was the closest before stepping away, his hands up in a gesture of goodwill. “See you. I am without weapons. Come, show yourself and let us be friends.”

He stood still, waiting to see what would happen, but the silence lengthened and there was no movement. He vaguely heard Ragnor whisper something but kept himself focused on the dark entrance of the other building, silently willing that other to come out.

“Please. We mean you know harm,” he said again, pleadingly. “Let us be friends.”

At that moment there was a screech of fear and the sound of a struggle. “I’ve got him!” he heard Celepharn yell. “Come quickly!”

Maglor realized then that Celepharn must have made his way to the back of their building which opened up onto a narrow alley that connected the various buildings in this square, silently sneaking up on whoever was watching them.

The other three ran quickly across to the other building. All the while there was the sound of screeching and they heard Celepharn utter more than one curse at whoever he was attempting to subdue. Maglor reached the doorway first and saw two figures struggling. He joined in the fray and then Ragnor was there as well and between them they were able to subdue the stranger, who was now whimpering in defeat.

“Well, whoever he is, he’s definitely not one of the Houseless,” Maglor said with a gasp of breath as he struggled to his feet, rubbing his ribs where the stranger had kicked him. “Let’s take him back to our fire and find out who he is.” Celepharn and Ragnor lifted the person between them and in minutes they were all staring in dismay at the pitiful creature huddled in a corner still whimpering, his eyes full of terror, darting to and fro as he sought for a way out, but they surrounded him, blocking his path of escape. In the firelight they could see that he was naked, his long, dark hair matted and covering much of his body, and peeping up between the matted strands were delicately shaped ears.

It was an Elf.

****

Falathrim: ‘The Shore-people’, the name given to the Teleri whose lord was Círdan.