With Elrond gone I noted little of time. I cannot tell you whether it was that very night or whether a week had passed, but I can tell you that it was evening and I was walking along the shore. The purple twilight enveloped the beach and the rolling waves. Indeed, the waves were rolling more roughly than usual, for the storm in the West had not abated since the day I first noticed it. Nay, it had but grown and stretched itself nearly to the shore of Middle-earth.
The lightning had become more than but a dim flickering in the distance, now a true fire that flashed upon the seas, accompanied by a great crack of thunder like unto the rending of the earth. I could well imagine how it had rent to swallow up the last of the Silmarils. It was not an image I relished.
As I watched the sea I called upon the Valar, to Yavanna to protect her poor bedraggled gulls, to Ulmo not to crush me with the pounding hooves of his white horses. Then in the sea-mists great shapes appeared. For a minute I could not make them out, but soon they became clear. They were ships, the tall ships of Númenor which once had sailed to my harbors in friendship before their hearts were turned.
They were torn from each other even as they struggled to hold fast. Many of them were turned away to the south, but some dared to attempt our haven. I thought in that instant that if I had been but able to warn them, all would be well. Our harbor is dangerous for those who know it not.
One by one, the four ships that had not been forced southward were dashed against the sharp rocks of the port of Mithlond. They splintered painfully as they struck, the wind behind them now, driving them onward even had they tried to halt. I grieved for the loss of the fine vessels, but not for the sailors. I had no wish to deal with the proud lords of men.
Mayhap I was but bitter.
The next morning I set my people to combing the strand, for, upon seeing the wreckage in the light of day, I suspected that many of the Númenoreans would live. I was required by the law of Mithlond to provide them succor if they were not servants of the Dark, and if they were, I would not leave them to escape. I myself prowled the area directly in front of the boulders where the ships had been lost. Soon enough I was lucky in my search.
A man, barely conscious, lay on the falas. He was taller than the wild men, near as high as an elf, and broad-shouldered. His hair was chestnut-brown, and his eyes dark as night. He had no trace of a beard, showing that in his past there lay elven blood, and his fair face and slender hands were greatly bruised and cut.
Though I had but little love for his race, I felt keenly my duty to another living creature. I took a flask of water I had hanging from my hip and held it to his lips. He sputtered. In a moment I had restored to him the power of speech.
"Many thanks, friend," he croaked. "I would that I might call thee friend, for though I am of Númenor, I will hold any of the Firstborn in higher regard than he who called himself there king. May the Valar bless thee! I am thy servant, and I am called Elendil." He fell to one knee in the sand.
This fair speech brought great hope to me. Some men, it seemed, would yet prove true. Did they not use the name Elendil to mean elf-friend? Though in my mind it came to "star-lover", I accepted this Mannish translation. He had spoken to me in good Sindarin, but I addressed him in the tongue of Númenor.
"I am Gil-galad, and I am here king of elves," I told him. He gasped and bowed his head so reverentially that it brought a faint blush to my cheek. "What has come to pass? We have seen the storm, but known naught of its cause."
"It was sent upon our accursed island by the true Lords of the West, the Valar," he answered falling into his native tongue with relief. The words spilled forth from his mouth eagerly, desperate to tell his tale. "Forgive me, I forget- thou knowst not that our king had taken that great title on himself. The king-" at this he spat "-had been swayed by the evil councils of that demon calling himself Annatar. This demon came in fair guise, but spoke cruel words and incited hatred against the Faithful, those of us who still knew ourselves to be under the governance of Eru. He essayed to make war on Valinor itself.
"I set forth in a fleet of nine ships of the Faithful, with my two sons, and but narrowly did we escape the drowning of our island. Akallabeth I name that curséd land, Atalantë, and gleefully I let it perish. I have no longer any love for it." His voice turned from harsh anger to threnody. "I mourn only the death of our fair queen. At heart she was of the Faithful, though she could not show it. Tar-Míriel, my cousin, wherefore didst thou refuse our ships? Might we not have saved thee?" Tears streamed freely down his cheeks, for he made no attempt to check them.
"Now I understand much," I mused. "And the storm rages still! Here we are sheltered to some small extent, for the power of Mithlond is great, but the waters of the ocean run freely through Middle-earth. Many mountains will be made low, and valleys raised, and all the world will be changed. Men and elves in great numbers will perish, and those who survive will become ever more divided in race and tongue."
"The Second Age is coming to an end," Elendil agreed. He had managed to pull himself to his feet. I saw that his height was even greater than I had at first guessed, and the wounds in his face even deeper.
"But it is not ended yet. Annatar you name him who poisoned the heart of your king, but how can he be other than Sauron, the most despicable of the servants of Morgoth? For he had built a stronghold in Mordor, and forged a monstrous ring, and wrought war upon the elves, but as suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone. Only then did we begin to hear of this fair-guised demon in the land of Númenor. You cannot yet rejoice that he is overthrown. Great evil may escape easily a destruction of its works."
"All you say is true," he said. He wrapped his cloak closely about him, trying to shut out the cold. And how cold he must be! He was soaked through. I put my arm about him and began to guide him back to the city. Carefully and slowly, he gave voice to a thought that seemed to be preying on his mind. "It minds me of a half-forgotten, half-dreamed memory I had hoped to leave behind. In the storm that ranged round Númenor- nay, Atalantë we must now say- we could not tell day from night, but betimes we would lie down and hope that in our sleep we might not be washed overboard. We could do naught to protect ourselves, for the waves tossed us beyond anything we could control.
"At one such time I awoke to a great thunderclap, which disturbed none other among the crew. Perhaps they had grown used to that noise. The sky had darkened even more than that pitch-blackness we had known, a darkness that was not an absence of light but a force of its own. The land was as white in that blackness as the shoulder of a maiden. I was the only one to see that isle once fair and proud topple beneath the waves. Many I had known I saw perish. My sweet cousin Tar-Míriel, finally freed from that cold palace, strove to ascend to the holy temple in the center of the isle, but the waves ate her before she could so do." His voice caught in his throat. "She was such a lissome maid before that usurper forced her to wed him. If he were not now dead-" He cut himself off, and was silent for a moment before he continued.
"As it sunk into the fiery chasm oped within the earth, some terrible flaming thing tore itself from the ground. It was a great demonic spirit, shrieking horribly as wings grew from its back. As I stared at it I fear it saw me, and was about to loose destruction on my ship, when something caused it to wheel off, heading for the shore of Middle-earth." He had more of his tale left, but I held up my hand to stop him.
"That cannot be other than the spirit of Sauron," I declared. "I long have wondered if he would return. Now I know he has. But luck is with us, for not long ago did my truest of friends, Lord Elrond, leave to his stronghold of Rivendell. With him there, the power of the elves is doubled, and Sauron shall not find so easily his foothold in Middle-earth. He will have to struggle to regain any of his former power. Yet he will do so in darkness, in the secret regions he has long built to his own liking, and we will hear but rumors for a time until he dares to make his might known. Then- well, then we will see."
We walked a while in silence, watching the storm. Planks were strewn all along the shore, remnants of the great ships that had been whole though battered but the night before. The strand was covered in animals; fish that had been tossed onto the sand, crabs and tortoises that had escaped the relentless sea, gulls that had fallen exhausted at last. Great ribbons of kelp were strewn along the falas.
We rounded the corner of a tall rock that divided the cove, and Elendil gazed for the first time upon the fortress and harbor of Mithlond. It rose tall above the pounding surf, strong upon that rocky crag. Its towers seemed to stretch forever into the heavens. The man drew in one sharp breath, overwhelmed, and crumpled to the ground unconscious.
As I threw upon the gates to my city, I immediately began to bark out orders, though I hate to command except in dire emergency. Many elves who were working nearby snapped to attention.
"Healers, take this man to the hospital immediately. Clean his wounds and give him new clothing. You, double the search parties. Treat all the men you find with care. Where are the cooks? Collect all those gaping fish from the beaches if you'd rather eat than have to smell them for the next week. We'll feed our guests well. They are men of honor."
I strode through the halls, breaking up several lunch parties and secret meetings as I doled out tasks to everyone. My casual attempt to search for the men of Númenor had been treated as a gesture, and so it had been. Now, knowing that these were allies we would need soon enough, the gesture became earnest. There must have been hundreds of men on the four ships that had entered our harbor. Who knew how many of them survived?
Finally I satisfied myself that every elf in Mithlond was at work to provide for our rescued sailors. Even the weavers were working their looms at full speed, knowing that the survivors would need new clothes, and the dead burial shrouds. For me, the tax on my thought had been too much. I stumbled into my room and collapsed on the bed. I slept for the rest of the afternoon.
When a young elf came to wake me for the evening meal, I waved him away and dragged myself upright. Something made me halt when I reached for a plain white tunic and leggings of the sort I wore daily. I chose instead a crimson robe, decorated elegantly with gold thread. I placed a delicate golden circlet on my head.
When I entered the feasting hall, all the food had already been laid out on the tables. Elendil had been placed where Elrond was accustomed to sit, on the right-hand side of my seat. My great chair was no throne, for elves in general are not ostentatious, and myself less so than most. Still, it dominated the table clearly, and its oaken back was beautifully carved.
I sat, and the men and elves, who were mixed evenly along the table, began to pass platters back and forth, accompanied by much ringing chatter. The cooks had outdone themselves in grilling the salmon and trout, covering the crab and lobster meat with dripping butter, and arranging oysters and mussels beautifully on trays. There was also much fresh fruit from our orchards, even oranges and mangoes from the distant south, which one of the gardeners had contrived to grow inside a house of glass. Wine was served, though I noted it was a much-diluted white wine, far less intoxicating than the red wine I had ordered for Elrond's farewell feast. My head chef had promised me her new invention for dessert, a mixture of fruit and ice that she called a sorbet.
For several minutes we were much too occupied for conversation. Elendil ate ravenously, and I supposed he had not eaten much but ship's-biscuit for days. He really was quite handsome now that he had been cleaned up, more so than I had ever known any mortal to be. His chestnut hair gleamed, falling elegantly over his strong shoulders. His eyes were bright and sharp, and even as he devoured the feast his back was straight and his movements elegant. He was still youthful, but sometimes the expression in his eyes made him look as old as an elf.
He had been dressed in cotton breeches and a loose shirt, both of a deep ocean blue. A pine-green woolen cloak hung on his shoulders. The clasp was carved of pine into the shape of a great ship with its sails billowing. He appeared entirely at home in the elven clothing, and with the silverware and napkins, though I had never known a mortal to eat with aught but his hands. His face was proud but gentle.
"You are the leader of the Faithful, are you not?" I asked when his eating slowed. I passed a basket of rolls to him.
"Yea, if my father returns not from his voyage to Aman. I doubt he will, for he did so on the errand to save Atalantë from its dreadful king. Well, it is saved now, by its own destruction." He covered several rolls in butter.
"Then you are king of men," I said. I noted his shock and smiled. "Of all men, even the wild men who have been separated from your people for an age, for you have the most noble blood of any man in you. You called the queen your cousin- I take it then that you have the blood of Elros in your veins." He nodded, apparently unable to speak.
"My sons will think me dead," he said after a moment, stuffing a roll into his mouth.
"I know where they will land when the floods abate," I replied as I speared a piece of crabmeat. "We will voyage there, you and I and a few to guard us. You will govern the land beyond the reach of the power of myself and Elrond, and with the aid of your sons make that land a kingdom of men, and Sauron will not be able to assail you. Mithlond will be safe enough in my absence." I looked into his dark eyes, and finally he nodded.
"I thank the Valar that they led me to thy harbor," he commented. "We had meant to strike for it from the start, but without the stars to guide us, it was but blind luck. Thou art a true friend forever."
He smiled at me radiantly, and it was at that moment that I fell in love for the second time in my long life.
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Chapter notes: Author's note: As Tolkien himself said, the modern English language has problems with you vs. thou. Because "you" is the default, "thou" has to become both formal and personal. When Elendil calls Gil-galad "thou", it is a sign of respect; when he uses it referring to Tar-Miriel, it shows his closeness to her.
