Glimpses of Darkness

The Guardian had barely sat down when Uilara appeared at the entrance of the cave carrying a deep bowl of blackberries. With a gesture, he indicated for her to sit beside him and listen. He placed the lacquered box on his knees.

“Now, children. Inside this box is a thing I never expected to see again and might indeed have wished not to see again, if I had thought of thinking of it at all. How it came to turn up in this part of Middle-earth is hard to imagine, but the longer the years stretch the more strange chances will occur. It is a palantír of Númenor – you have heard of Númenor, Jarin? Right, so you know that they had great skill and wisdom, though even with all their craft they could not have made the palantíri. They were, in fact, wrought in the Undying Lands. You see, the elves on our northern border may seem a marvel to you, but they are dim shadows compared to their kin who once dwelled with the Powers in their lands beyond the westernmost sea. Of these, there was one – what puzzles you?”

“You say the Powers live beyond the westernmost sea,” said Jarin. “I’ve heard this before, and I don’t understand. Surely the westernmost sea laps on the easternmost shore? Do the Powers then dwell in the river lands? Do the forest people behold them face to face? That seems unlikely. But if it is so, could not we travel across the mountains and seek their counsel?”

“You think of the world as it is now,” replied Uilara. “But the Guardian is speaking of what was. In the days of Númenor, Arda was a flat disc and the –”

“Flat?” Jarin pulled a face. “That makes no sense! How could that even work, how could –”

“Peace, Jarin!” cried Alatar. “We are getting side-tracked. Arda was indeed flat in ages past, and the shape of the world was changed and the Undying Lands removed beyond Arda, but to explain all this would take the whole day. We can talk of it another time. As I was saying, there was one among the elves of Aman whose skill astonished even the Powers, and he made things of profound craft, of magic as you might call it. And some of them have caused endless trouble, but that’s beside the point. The palantíri were useful after a fashion, but great as his wisdom was in some ways, Fëanor was not one for thinking things through to the end. So here we have these things that can see into the distance, and connect with each other, and they are well-nigh indestructible, so that if one gets lost, it might turn up anywhere, fall into any hands, as we have seen today. Can you imagine the mischief this could cause?”

“My thoughts exactly,” said Hamûjil.

“Explain more, if it pleases you, about how they see into the distance,” said Aluir. “Is it random images, like a dream, or can you somehow…steer them?”

“Both. They show random images readily, but those with the skill and strength of mind can steer them. And they do, as I said, connect to each other, though not all equally to each one.” Alatar sighed. “So here I have sitting on my lap a palantír, and there is no telling where the others are, or indeed where this one has been. Has anyone used it lately? If so, what for? And have they revealed themselves to anyone who might be looking into one of the other stones? And who might those others be, and what be their intentions? There are so many unknowns that it is not advisable to look into the stones at all.”

“But you did it anyway?” said Uilara.

“Oh, yes, I did it anyway.”

“And you saw darkness…” Hamûjil frowned.

“I saw darkness, and I saw things that bewilder me, and some things that you, Archseraph, should urgently know.”

“We should hear about those first, then, if it pleases you.”

“Soon, but not first. I want you to understand the limits of what I am going to tell you. Uilara thinks me reckless, but I used all my caution. So at first I tried to get a sense of where the other stones are. It seems that some of them are indeed lost, perhaps at the bottom of the sea, but two or maybe three are at the disposal of a powerful mind, and at least one of those minds is full of malice.”

“Sauron?”

“Perhaps. In any case, I took care to keep my own mind hidden. Nevertheless, I felt as if certain images where pushed at me, so to speak. These were meant, mayhap, for whoever used this stone before, or else for one of the others. So be aware that there may well be some deception involved here.”

“Can the stones deceive?” asked Uilara.

“I do not think so, but that doesn’t mean that one who looks into the stone cannot be deceived by what they see there.”

“A wrong impression, carefully prepared…” murmured Aluir.

“Exactly so. Therefore, what I will tell you now needs to be considered with much care. Hear this, then: The steppe tribes are on the move. They are marching west and I think it is clear where they are going – to Mordor, to swell the armies of Sauron.”

“How can you be sure?  We know so little about the West.”

 “There is indeed much you do not know about the West, and some that I do not know myself. But this you do know, Archseraph: Sauron has arisen again in Mordor. He will want to assault Gondor, destroy it if he can. Orcs have ever been his chosen soldiers, but if he can corrupt men into his services, then he will. He tried it with you and you rejected him. It seems he had more luck with the Krâ.”

“So the steppe tribes are going to war in Gondor,” said Hamûjil.  “Well, that just confirms the rumours, and it is not good, but it does not really touch us, does it?”

“Oh, but it does!” said Uilara. “Consider, Archseraph, that Sauron may not be content with conquering the West. If Gondor falls, whither will he turn his hatred next?”

“And I have already angered him…when I declined to take his ‘hand of friendship.’ Yes, I see the danger.”

“I fear there may be more immediate dangers to worry about,” said Alatar. “The steppe tribes have moved beyond our reach anyway, and even if we wanted to, we could do nothing about their march. Now, the other thing I saw concerns the settled Krâ.”

“But they are our friends!” cried Jarin.

Hamûjil leaned forward. “What did you see, Alatar?”

“Preparations. Weapon stores. Men practising at arms. The Ezen of Krandi and the Ezen of Talak bent over a map in hot debate. Women crying as their men were leaving. There is no telling from what I saw whether they, too, are getting ready to go to Mordor, or whether they have other plans…”

“…to attack Kûz,” whispered Jarin. She felt Uilara seize her hand and press it.

“How many?” asked Hamûjil, his voice toneless.

“I saw glimpses, Archseraph, not a scout’s report. But you know yourself how many folk live along the western shore. The Ezens could easily raise an army twenty, even thirty thousand strong. They could cross the inland sea by ship and send a host attacking from the South, and if they have a mind to grapple with the dwarves and elves as well, another host could come round the northern shore.”

“They are farmers and artisans, not warriors,” said Aluir.

“As are we, but they are used to harder work,” replied his sister.

Hamûjil shook his head. “And we cannot fight and kill, not without giving up the Way.”

“But if we are attacked…” Jarin felt sick. The light was still in her, and she thought she would never raise a hand to another human being, but she was terrified now, and wondered if she had the resolve to give up her life without a fight.

“Do we not have any defences?” asked Uilara.

“Our defence has always been our friendship with our neighbours. But I do not think we can trust in that any longer. Last week I sent Jarin with a message to the Ezen of Krandi, an invitation, in fact, to the Seraphine’s art exhibition. His reply has worried me. He declined, and he spoke about things changing between our lands. And then there was the ship at Mil Nahara.” He told briefly what had happened on the docks. “I have tried to ignore the rumours, but these are not rumours, these are clear signs that the Krâ have become hostile to us.”

“True,” said Alatar, “though that does not necessarily mean they are bent on attacking us, only that their minds have darkened. It is far more likely that they are getting ready to march to Mordor.”

“You think so?” said Jarin, trying not to show her relief.

“I do, and in that case it will go ill with Gondor. Our danger is at best delayed.”

There was silence for a while, and then Hamûjil asked, “What was the other thing you saw, the thing that bewildered you?”

“I am not sure.” Alatar’s brow creased and he rubbed his hand over his bald head. “I think it was Olórin. He is, you know, one of my kind, though it is long ages since I saw him. He remained in Eriador when Pallando and I travelled east. He and the other two. I think what I saw was Olórin on a hilltop, besieged by creatures of darkness. And he had a white horse with him, and he cast lightning into the skies. The other thing I saw I am even less sure about. It was like a – no, the image was too vague.”

“Do the stones show only what is now,” asked Aluir, “or the past and future, too?”

“I cannot say for certain. Mainly what is now, or very recent, though I believe it might be possible to steer them further into the past. The future…I doubt that.”

“This Olórin in Eriador doesn’t seem to have any bearing on our situation here, though,” said Hamûjil. “I must act, but what shall I do? I came only to find out the nature of this magic stone, and now I have to decide how to respond to the worst news of my lifetime. What is your counsel, Alatar?”

“That you return to Levare and call for a meeting of the Council.”

“Do we have time to wait for the Council to assemble?”

“I believe so. Remember it was only preparations I saw. But when you get home, send scouts out immediately to see if any Krâ are on the march.”

“Yes. And will you keep the palantír safe?”

“As safe as anything can be. Go now. I will see you again at the Council.”

-oOoOo-

“Archseraph?” said Jarin as they descended down the mountainside. “You have seen the Unquenchable Light before. Did it, did it do something to you? I feel like I am a changed person. I have always done my best to abide by the Way, but it’s different now. It’s hard to describe…”

“It filled you with a desire to be good from the inside, regardless of any outside rules.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s it.”

“It is the light of the Powers, Jarin. One cannot look upon it and be unaffected.”

“But then…Aluir said what makes the glowstone shine is dust from the lamp. So isn’t that the same thing? And we have glowstones in so many places, and glowstone paint, so shouldn’t we get the same feeling from them?”

“Ah, but we do, only in a much lessened form. Why do you think Kûz is so peaceful and prosperous? Alatar knew what he was doing when he showed our ancestors the Way of the Light. It is more than just a metaphor, Jarin. The light of the Powers shines all over Kûz and urges us towards goodness, though never as strongly as when we stand in front of the Unquenchable Light. It is possible, of course, to harden your heart against it. But usually it changes people from within.”

“Then what about our neighbours? We trade glowstone with them, don’t we? Does it make them better, too?”

“I think it does, though of course they do not use it as much as we do. But certainly the dwarves in Longhaven and the mountains beyond are far friendlier with us that those further away.”

“And the Krâ?”

“They do not buy as much glowstone as the dwarves, but yes, they have some. And that gives me hope, because I cannot believe that they would be wholly corrupted by Sauron. Perhaps there is a way to remind them of our long friendship.”

“If anyone can do that, it is you, Archseraph,” said Jarin with conviction.

Hamûjil laughed. “It is good to know that at least one of my citizens has faith in me. Because at this moment, I have very little faith in myself.”

-oOoOo-

Their journey back was uneventful. The weather was fine with splendid views of which they took little note. The Archseraph’s in-laws spoke of inconsequential matters while Jarin and Hamûjil sipped their wine in silence. The following day they reached Levare in the afternoon. They set down the Archseraph on the roof of the palace and then Wan took Jarin home. He landed on the lawn near the cedar tree where the Seer often sat, though she wasn’t there today.

Jarin dismounted. She leaned against the dragon’s mane and thanked him. Wan turned his head.

 “So, what was it like, seeing him again?”

“Oh, wonderful.” Jarin shrugged. “He didn’t even remember me. We were just a conveyance for him, you and I.”

“He is a fool then.”

“Hardly! He is the Guardian’s apprentice.”

“There is more than one way to be a fool,” said Wan. “Good-bye, Jarin. Until we meet again.”

And Wan faded from the lawn where he had stood. Jarin entered the House of the Power of Air and climbed up the stair to her room. Slowly, she took off her boots and then her cloak and then she sank down on her bed and cried. But at the other end of town in the Archseraph’s palace, a frantic Majani threw herself into Hamûjil’s arms and cried, “Thank the Powers you are here! He has come back and he is even grimmer than before, and I did not know what to do, and I am terrified!”