User blog:High Prince Imrahil/The Return of Herendil Part 1

Three Numenorean knights struggled Northwards through the icy glaciers of Forodwaith. Darkness was so black they could almost touch it, for there was no moon and the clouds were thick. Their horses had been left in a small settlement near the Grey Mountains, and now they labored on foot, their silver armour covered in black cloaks showing only their steel Morion helms. Where were they going? Why would three sane men struggle into the frozen wasteland?

The answer is long and complicated, having begun fifteen years previous upon the high seas of the Bay of Belfas, for it was there that Herendil son of Eldacar, a national hero of Numenor, was defeated by Dwarven pirates, and all thought him dead. All, that is, but Travious, Herendil's former squire. Travious was one of the few men that new Herendil's true location: that Herendil left Numenor thinking it corrupt and now lived as a Hermit in the North, and it was here that Travious and his brave company journeyed.

"Just a little further!" shouted Travious over the howling winds "The wild men say there's a lone Numenorean hermit in a cabin a little further from here!!"

And they pressed forward. Finally they saw a distant light through the raging snow, and wallowed through the white desert with renewed vigor. Finally they reached the rickety wooden door of a small log cabin built out of great Forodwaith timber. Warily the exhausted knights knocked on the door.

It seemed like an eternity they waited there, but finally the door creaked open and they beheld, in a blinding blaze of firelight after being in the dark so long, a grizzly man of around thirty with dark brown hair, sea-grey eyes, and an unkept beard. He was dressed in an old fur tunic that probably Dwarven in origin. For a moment he was held speechless, clearly not accustomed to visitors in his remote abode.

"Travious. . .” spoke the man's raspy voice at last "How come you here. . . Come in, please!"

The trio of knights stepped in awkwardly and beheld a small living room with a few worn wooden chairs around a stone hearth. A doorway stood a little ways off, probably leading to a bedroom.

"Be seated, please!" said the man, taking a seat himself.

He stoked the fire and stared wondrously at the Numenorean knights who had come to his remote dwelling.

"Herendil" said Travious "For it is you, isn't it?"

The man nodded quietly and Travious continued

"There are ill tidings from Numenor. For the corruption you felt nigh fifteen years ago when you fled into the North is but a shadow of what Numenor is now. Grevious has come to the island. At first he came as a humble prisoner, but he corrupted the king and is now the true lord of Numenor. The whole of the island looks like Utumno of old: a great black fortress with spiked walls and dreary grey streets."

"Yes. . . " said Herendil "But what do you wish of me?"

"Come back with me!" said Travious to the great surprise of his host "For there are many in Numenor who remember what life was like before the corruption and wish to restore it. They wish to overthrow Grevious before all is lost. We call ourselves 'The Faithful' for we stand firm to the worship of Mevans and will not bow to Grevious. We need a hero, in dark Numenor, a great leader that men would follow into battle. We need you to return and lead our rebellion!"

Herendil stood and walked towards the window. He gazed out of it thoughtfully, though there was nothing but snow behind it.

"Travious, my boy" Herendil said at last "I just wasn't cut out to be a warrior. I loved being an explorer and mapping and charting unknown territories, but when it came to fighting. . . Travious it sickened me. When I was rescued from the Dwarven pirates by Thorin Stonehelm, I fully intended to come back to Numenor as soon as my battles for Thorin were finished, but. . . "

<p class="MsoNormal">Travious leaned forward, entranced in what his host was saying

<p class="MsoNormal">"But, Travious. . . then I found Dorwinion. I found a nation unlike ours, a peace-loving nation that helped its neighbors instead of attacking them and made defensive pacts rather then offensive ones. A nation that, if it had its way, would stand away from war altogether. It was then I saw the error of Numenor's ways: the bloodlust of her generals, the imperialist expansions of her king, the warlikeness of her culture. . . I couldn't go back. Indeed, I did my best to trick them into thinking I had died aboard my ship, and was in the halls of Mandos. Meanwhile I withdrew into the wilds of the North and made a vow never again to return to the violent world of men."

<p class="MsoNormal">All sat silent for a moment.

<p class="MsoNormal">"Herendil" said Travious "Not all men are evil! Just because you witnessed a few bloody wars doesn't mean you should withdraw utterly from the affairs of man and dwarf. What happened to your warrior's code? When you first became a Knight of Numenor did you not swear to protect the helpless and defend the weak? How can you say you are fulfilling your oath by retreating into the wasteland?"

<p class="MsoNormal">Herendil looked a bit perturbed.

<p class="MsoNormal">"Are you saying I should return to evil Numenor?"

<p class="MsoNormal">"Evil Numenor!" said Travious "Do you think the savages of the South that sacrifice men alive are less wicked then the men of Numenor? If you think Numenor evil among the races of men, then who indeed is good?"

<p class="MsoNormal">"None" said Herendil "For there is no race of men without evil. Such is the seed of Morgoth the Deceiver, that men's hearts shall always seek darkness. That is why I have retreated from the dying world. For the world of men is indeed dying, Travious, any sane person can see that."

<p class="MsoNormal">Travious was at a loss for words.

<p class="MsoNormal">"But" he said at last "How much quicker will the world decay if good people flee into the darkness? How much easier shall evil gain the upper hand when all the good have left? We must go back, Herendil. In the name of the Valar almighty we must go back. War is coming in Numenor, Herendil, and thoust knows it. War between the King's Men and the Faithful. We need your help. The resistance needs your help."

<p class="MsoNormal">Travious's voice was firm. Herendil appeared to be quavering, as if perhaps he might return with Travious.

<p class="MsoNormal">"Return I shall, Trav" said Herendil finally "But I shall let none know that I am Herendil. And after the corrupt government officials are overthrown I will slip back into the darkness and go back to my life alone in the wilds. Deal?"

<p class="MsoNormal">"Deal!" said Travious, and he shook Herendil's hand "How about we spend the night here, Herendil?"

<p class="MsoNormal">"Fair enough!" said Herendil.

<p class="MsoNormal">Now Herendil's mind turned to less important subject like the strange armour his friend wore. When Herendil was last in Numenor, warriors wore a black surcoat and mantle bearing a white tree over a suit of mail and a Great Helm. Yet Travious and his companions wore strange new armour: steel Morion helmets with tall combs and steel plate armour. Also, instead of an Eket like Herendil's, they bore long Repiers. Travious observed Herendil's questioning glances and told him that the new armour was of Greavious's invention and now was worn by all warriors of Numenor.

<p class="MsoNormal">"What is that?" said Herendil gesturing to a strange wooden weapon at Travious's side.

<p class="MsoNormal">"They call them muskets" said Travious "They are mighty weapons of old. The secrets of them were lost for many years, but Grevious has shown us how to forge them once again. They fire great darts over leagues uncounted with a noise like thunder."

<p class="MsoNormal">Herendil raised an eyebrow at the mention of "Grevious" but said nothing. All four of the men sat in silence by the warmth of the fire. Finally they drifted into sleep. ..

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<p class="MsoNormal">Within a few weeks the company had arrived at Umbar from which they planned to travel to Numenor via boat.

<p class="MsoNormal">"I don't like it" muttered Herendil upon seeing the outer walls of Umbar in the distance "The Towers are surely higher but they leave their beauty behind at the ground."

<p class="MsoNormal">"Indeed they are less beautiful, perhaps even ugly" said Travious "But they are sturdier then before"

<p class="MsoNormal">Herendil simply shook his head at the bleak black walls of Umbar. They looked like the walls to some dark fortress of Morgoth of old, or perhaps a great dungeon.

<p class="MsoNormal">As they passed under the gate, guards approached. They wore the same armour Travious did. One of the guards was armed with a steel pike, the other with a musket which he pointed at the company.

<p class="MsoNormal">"Who be ye?" came the husky voice from the guard with the pike "Friend or foe?"

<p class="MsoNormal">"We are knights of the King of Numenor!" said Travious "Here are our passes"

<p class="MsoNormal">Travious handed the guards a bundle of scrolls, and Herendil was surprised, for there was never this much trouble getting into Umbar when he last was there.

<p class="MsoNormal">The guard with the musket looked over the scrolls and allowed them to pass into the city. The city, Herendil decided, was worse then the walls. Like Angband of old, it looked: smoke from factories choked out the sun and smothered the whole city in blackness and a great stench was in the air.

<p class="MsoNormal">They jogged down a few flights of grimy stairs and arrived at the docks. Herendil, a great mariner, was utterly aghast at the ugly ships that stretched out into the harbor.

<p class="MsoNormal">"Indeed" said Travious as if reading Herendil's mind "Our ships go now without the wind and they do not sink in calm or storm; but they are no longer fair to look upon."

<p class="MsoNormal">Of all the evil in Umbar, the ships hit Herendil the hardest. Herendil had always found a great beauty in ships, the fine craftsmanship, the carving, the beautiful sails. . . but these ships were of metal and had no sails. Boarding one of the ships hurt Herendil deeply, but it had to be done. The belly of the ship where Herendil and Travious sat was foul-smelling and crowded with many bound for Numenor. The fare, as well, was a good deal higher then Herendil ever remembered being charged.

<p class="MsoNormal">"That was a close one at the gate!" whispered Travious to Herendil "I was afraid the king might have divined my treachery while I was in the North, and that the guards would arrest me upon seeing my passport. Fortunately, however, they have not yet figured out that I am one of the Faithful and did not recognize you, thinking us merely a company bound for Numenor on the business of the king. When we arrive at the isle we will go to the home of my friend Orontor who is leading much of the rebellion. Numenor is getting dangerous, old friend, be wary. . . "

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<p class="MsoNormal">The ship's engine roared like a mighty lion and they were bound for Numenor.