Following the raid on Lumenire’s island, we needed to regroup and decide our next course of action. Cutch prepared us all a fine dinner, accompanied by good Gondrorian wine, and we leisurely enjoyed the repast; our minds thus relaxed, we soberly examined what had transpired. I was initially most interested in observing Ardanion, however, for he had just experienced his first death-dealing skirmish, and I was concerned about how he would handle killing his first foe.
The young man was more quiet than usual, and I could guess his mind was repeating the memories of his deadly arrows ending several of the corsairs. He ate, but at a pace much slower than is customary for an adolescent male-child of Mortals. Beyond his own plate and thoughts, little of his attention remained for his father, aunt, or me.
“Did you recognize the sigil the rune-keeper bore on his buckle?” Lumenire quietly asked, pulling away my observations on the boy.
“Yes, I believe I did, but I wanted to discuss it with you before blurting it out before the marines. I am quite sure it’s a symbol drawn from the flag of the Alcarondas.” She and I exchanged somber looks. Cutch, noticing our disquiet, set his wine glass down and looked at us, bewildered.
“Alcarondas?”, Cutch asked. “What…”
Ardanion did not look up from his plate as he correctly answered, “Ar-Pharazôn’s command ship in the fleet he led against the Valar.” The rest of us all turned to him with wonderment. After a moment of our stunned silence, he looked up and finished his explanation. “He was the last king of the Numenoreans. Naneth has written in detail of him and his treachery….”. He eyes fell back to his plate, at which he resumed picking through, his attention returned to dark musings. Cutch slid closer to his son and leaned to whisper something in his ear. Hopefulness crossed the boy’s face as he regarded to his father and, having been eased by whatever sage advice Cutch had given, attended his dinner and the conversation with more interest.
“Yes, Captain”, Lumenire conceded. “But that fleet was lost an age ago, unless…”. An impossible thought dawned in her gaze.
I nodded my agreement. “Unless our raiding rune-keeper were a descendent of the Black Numenoreans. They would not forget their king, nor his accursed advisor.”
“But why attack here, now?”, Cutch asked, returning to the conversation.
The question chilled the air for a long minute before Lumenire spoke. “It could well be in response to the disbanding of the Order of the Hidden Star and the new intentions of it’s former members……” she paused mid-thought to consider before adding the rest of her suspicion. “And they may be after my sister’s belongings.”
“You brought Gilmorwen’s rune stones here?” I asked.
“Aye”, she replied, her jaw set, and resolve in the look she gave me. “Thranduil was gracious in his offer to hide them there, but I could tell he was ill at ease with them. Besides, I still have some research to do. Un-answered questions need to be settled, and where is there a safer place than here?”
“An island”, Cutch observed, “where dire consequences might be more easily contained.”
“And where you can arrange to be alone when doing your examinations”, Ardanion tossed in.
“So, that is the real reason you have acquired this island, isn’t it Lumenire?” I accused, my concern for her well-being welling up. “To have a safe place to store your sister’s accursed stones and conduct your research. Teaching Mortals the rune-lore is secondary.”
She nodded, swirling her wine before draining the glass with an uncharacteristic gulp. She held it out for me to refill. “But,” she continued, “if the stones are the reason the raiders came here, then we have implied an even greater threat. How would Black Numenoreans from eastern shores know all this?”
“How could we know where the pirates were from?” Ardanion asked.
“Their boat had the design and markings of the corsairs of Umbar”, Cutch answered, remembering his encounter with them many years ago. “Odd thing about that boat is that it would be not the safest to sail the great distance from Umbar. Taking it directly across would be fast, but dangerous in high seas where the weather gets rough. It’s mast and yard were too large for the hull, and it would be spotted from land were it to hug the coast.”
“Does that imply some … desperation in their motives?” Lumenire asked.
Cutch nodded. “Not only in taking that course, but in using such a dangerously built boat.”
The ponderous silence returned.
“Still”, Ardanion called us back to the vital question. “How would they know to come here unless they have an extensive network of spies?”
“Or perhaps other … unnatural ways of gleaning”, Luminere supposed.
Cutch emptied his wine glass and set it down with a gesture of finality. “Then the island is still not safe. We have a lot of work to do; repairing the house and dock, conferring with our temporarily assigned marine guards …”
“And reporting our suspicions to the court in Dol Amroth”, I interrupted and Cutch nodded agreement.
“The gentle-males will now take charge, eh?”, Lumenire chided through a smirk. “This is still my island, is it not?”
“Of course, it is, Mell Mam”, Cutch bowed as he diplomatically responded. “Surely, though, you understand our desires to see no harm come to you?”
“That’s right!” Ardanion declared, imitating his father’s gesture with his wine glass.
Cutch turned to the boy and, with a finality his son knew well, and declared. “Oh no, Danny. You are going home.”
“Yes”, Lumenire agreed. “And I need to send warnings out to the former members of the Order.”
