Hello, all! High Prince Imrahil here! At long last I have finished the first chapter of my "Adventures of Prince Imrahil" series, and will be releasing a new chapter every friday from now on. Without any further tarrying, let's watch as Beauhunt comes to Dol Amroth for a friendly visit. . .
-Chapter 1: The Adventure Begins-
So it happened in June 3019 of the Third age of the Sun. Thus is the account of High Prince Imrahil, veteran of the Great Battle of Minas Tirith, conqueror of the East, and Lord of Dol Amroth.
I sat in my great hall, upon my throne of white marble. Light flowed in through the windows on either side of the hall, and the day seemed bright. I was soon expecting a visit from my old friend Beauhunt III, Prince of the Avari Elves. He had long hinted that he would visit the West, and I knew that in just a few hours he would be at my home. Servents rushed back and forth, guards secured their post, and slowly but surely all was made ready. In the nick of time as well, for no sooner had the servents finished polishing the marble floor, then we heard elven horns blowing in the distance, and the silver horns of Dol Amroth crying out in answer. Within a few minutes Beauhunt walked into my court and I welcomed him.
"It has been a long journey" Beauhunt said "and if you don't mind, I would like to play a game of chess."
"Of course!" I said "Samwise, get the chess board!"
but their was no answer. "Where is he?!" I said. The guard laughed,
"Your memory is running thin, lord!" he said "Do you not remember? glflegolas knew what a good man he was, and even now he is ruling in the Western parts of Gondor."
"Ah, yes!" I said "Stand your post guard, and I shall get the set myself! Come along Beauhunt?"
So it was that Beauhunt and I went down the long marble hall, through passage after passage looking for the chess set, and it was not long until I was lost.
"How are you lost in your own castle?" said Beauhunt "And why don't you just ask a guard?"
"Only the servents use these halls" I said "And if I asked a guard, I would look like an idiot for being lost in my own castle!"
Beauhunt sighed and we continued into the oldest part of the castle, which had been the very first part of the castle built. Running into guards became rarer and rarer as we went on, until we went minutes at a time without seeing one. Finally we encountered a bookshelf in the middle of the hallway.
"That's strange!" I said "This is the only bookshelf I have seen."
I saw a intresting book called "The History of Numenor" and as I took it off the shelf. The bookshelf shifted, and rumbled, and moved, until a passage was revealed. I looked with wide eyes, for it seemed as if no man had been through it since the most ancient of days, and it was lighted with small shafts of sunlight coming through skylights instead of torches.
"Such a secret passage within my very castle!" I exclaimed "Who knows what ancient treasures lie beyond? Come on!"
"I came to escape adventure, and relax!" said Beauhunt, but he grudgingly came along.
We walked along the dimly lit hallway until at long last we came to a large room made entirely out of marble, and in the center was a tomb. Beside it was a black sword, and a strong shield. Picking up the shield I saw something that I never expected: The emblem of Numenor was painted upon it, and it was clear that this belonged to a great general of Numenor.
"This shield was forged in Numenor!" I said to Beauhunt "It is the strongest I have ever seen!"
Walking over to the tomb I saw the following words: "Here lies Herendil son of Eldacar, Kinsman of Elendil, and great explorer of Numenor. Lived 2873-3437 in the Second age of the Sun."
At these words I kneeled upon the ground, and layed my crown upon the tomb, in a show of respect.
"I must tell glflegolas of this site" I said "for the kings of Gondor have searched ever for the Tomb of Herendil. I suppose this tomb is why my forefathers chose this spot for the castle."
"Who is this man," said beauhunt "that you treat him with such respect?"
"The greatest man of Numenor who ever lived" I said "save perphaps Elendil himself."
"I am from the East" said Beauhunt "and know little of Numenorian lore. Could you tell me about him?"
My eyes found something in the corner of the room that is valued to Gondorians, beyond any amount of gold or Mithril: The memoirs of Herendil himself. It had looked as if it had been through much, it was stained with sea water, blood, and Mevans knows what else.
"Listen!" I said "to the words of Herendil himself. We will be the first in three thousand years to read these very words."
Beauhunt fell silent, and together we read the following entry:
-First Entry of Herendil-
So says Herendil in 3411 of the Second age of the Sun. I write this from my mansion in Gondor using for reference my personal diary, and the witness of my friend Thorin Stonehelm I whome I shall talk about later. It becomes clear that the blood of Numenor is failing, that the age of men is coming to an end, and no man shall ever match my deeds. Therefore I shall document all my previous life, and have it buried with me, so that when it is found, it shall inspire the remaining men to hope by reading about my heroic deeds of the past.
So it began in the year 2888: my first voyage. It was in a different time, and a different place. It was in Numenor's youth when she was still young and proud. When explorers and merchants had charted and mapped every place in Middle-earth, save the uttermost West. When the men of Numenor helped the savages of Middle-Earth, so much that they though us gods.It was in this age that I set out upon my first voyage as captain of a ship. Mevan's Sword she was called. She was armed with ballistas and catapults, capable of launching heavy spikes or rocks at enemy ships. She had a frontal ram which could be used to break smaller ships in half when hitting the side. When all else failed, she could deploy her detachment of Marines, hardened sailors, to take over the enemy ship. To say the least, this ship was a true masterpiece. I walked proudly out of my house with it's white tower and golden roof gleaming in the rising sun, and down the white stone steps that led to the port. My father, Eldacar, was waiting for me on the dock.
"Farewell, son!" he said "And may your voyage be successful!"
The voyage he was speaking of was ordered by the king of Numenor himself. My objectives were twofold: to secure an iron mine in the land of Far-Harad, and to avoid fights with the natives at all costs.
Thus I sailed out of the maze of ports and harbors that is Numenor, and into the open ocean.
-Second Entry of Herendil-
After several weeks of sailing, we came upon the coast of Umbar, and here we left our ship in one of the many harbors, while we traveled inland. I took five squadrons of around twenty marines, enough food and water for three weeks, and a handful of horses. We traveled the plains for what seemed like years, though it had only been a week, and didn't find any sign of the village we were supposed to buy the iron mine from. Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, we began to fall prey to Moredain ambushes. They would strike here and there, in the weakest part of the formation were I least expected them to attack, and disappear before I could do anything, leaving behind only the dead bodies of my troops. A whole division was wiped out this way. Both of my objectives I had failed, and I was just about to give the order to turn around, when I saw a small party approaching our camp. I could tell by their garb that they were Turedain, and their chieften wished to speak with me. He walked into my tent, and greeted me.
"My name is argail." he said "And I wish for your aid."
"Of course!" I said "What do you need?"
The chieften sighed "My people have been driven out of their homes, and their village has been burned. All the jungle is in flames, and we want your help against Acheron the Black, lest all of all the forests in the world go up in flame. Understand that if that village is lost, so is the iron mine that you want so badly."
"Who is Acheron the Black?" I said "Orc general?"
"Dragon" said Argail, and the words sent a chill up my spine.
What was I to do? I was under orders to get that iron mine at all costs, but was fighting a dragon included as one of the costs? And what about this old chieften? Wouldn't helping him forge an allience between the Turedain, and Numenor? That would come in handy if Grevious ever dared return to Middle-Earth.
"I will help you!" I said "Lead me to this dragon's lair!"
I will not bore you with how we journeyed through miles of charred forest to get to the lair, but I will instead cut to the exciting part:
I marched up to the lair with three divisions of Numenorians, as well as an extra division made up of Turedain warriors, with argail among them. A huge cave opened up before us, and a great reek came from it. We had found Acheron's lair, all right. No sooner had we stopped marching, then we saw the huge, black, slender body of a cold-drake rising above us.
"Hold together!" I shouted "Archers, fire!"
The huge arrows of Numenor screamed through the air, and sailed towards the dragon with great speed, but they were not quick enough. The dragon dodged, and swooped down upon the archers, sweeping some of them into the great pits that lie about the mountains. Then picking up the others, he dropped them from a great hight, on top of my infantry. I could see that my men were almost ready to flee, as their screaming comrads landed about them.
"Hold together!" I shouted "For Araval!"
And my men rallied, because Araval was the captain of the archery division, and he was a brave and mighty man. Beloved by all, ere the dragon felled him. Now my men chanted his name with a mighty voice, as they assaulted the dragon. I could see that the dragon was rather nervous, knowing that the archer trick had always routed his enemies. Never had that not worked for him. Now he struggled to find a good tactic, besides simply sweeping my men aside with his mighty claws.
"3rd division!" I shouted "Move forward! Attack!"
Still chanting the name of Araval, twenty men chaged forward, their swords glimmering in the moonlight. The dragon gave out a fell cry, and with his great stregth, swooped down. A minute later, three men came running back, all that was left of 3rd division. Now the dragon hovered above us, taunting us. The situation was desperate. I took into my hand the last bow we had. The bow was of strong Numeorean make, made of hollow black steel, providing the strength that surpassed the bows of even the elves. Pulling back the string with all my strength, I fired a single arrow. It sailed through the air with a mighty whistle, and the dragon was so busy taunting us he didn't notice it. It landed deep within the underside of his wing, close to the shoulder, and drove through to the other side. He fell to the ground, and began to snatch up my men in his huge jaws. He was grounded, but no less dangerous.
I myself charged forward towards the dragon, and he swung at me with his mighty tail, but I ducked under his blow and stabbed it from below. He cried out in pain, and closed his mighty jaws around me, and all grew dark. With my last effort, I stabbed my sword deep into his lower jaw, and he let go of me out of pain. Finally while he was stunned, I lept under him and stabbed his stomach, until the very hilt of my sword was buried in his flesh. He let out a last mortal cry, and fell with a great thud upon the ground. So ended the life of Acheron the Black, greatest dragon that ever went into the South. I took my sword out of its belly, and layed it on the ground, lest I burn my hand upon the dragon blood that was on it. My men cheered, and we went into the lair to see what we could find. As we lit up the room with torch light, we could see that it was a great treasure, for the dragon obviously took some of his treasure with him when he fled from the North.
There was ancient armour forged in Gondolin and Belgost, there were swords and blades beyond count, and there was so much gold that it took several ships to bring it all to Numenor. Thus Numenor gained many treasures, and as did the Turedain whome we let have a share in the treasure because of their warriors that helped defeat the dragon. Though I haven't been to the jungles of the South for many years, as far as I know, the Turedain chieftens still fight with elven armour and blades that were won from the great dragon. As for my own blade, it was reforged, and through a process now lost to men, the very blood of the dragon was infused into it, so that those who were cut with it would burn as if with fire, and fall under a dark swoon. So ends the story of my first adventure.
-Epiloge-
Here I paused, while Beauhunt talked.
"What a great hero, Imrahil." said Beauhunt "I can see why you respect him so."
"Yes" I said "He is my ancestor."
"Really?" said Beauhunt "I didn't know that you had such noble blood."
"Perphaps we should go inside to read the rest of it." I said "Dinner will start soon."
And with that we walked back into the hall, and into the dining room to finish the story.
Well there it is! What did you think of my new Herendil storyline? I've got another ten or twelve chapters sketched out, as he travels Middle-Earth, in search of gold and glory. If you didn't like the storyline, I can always switch storylines. I have a few others I'll get to later including a few during the kin-strife. Well, tell me what you think, and I'll try to make a decision.