Chapter Text
“Tell me what your name means, Captain.”
Not in thirty years had the queen questioned Elendil’s service or his loyalty, yet on the day King Durin’s proposition for an alliance was announced in court his past was brought to account. Elendil searched dark eyes for the meaning and folded his hands behind his back to grip his suddenly clammy palms.
“Elendil means Elf-Friend in Quenya, your Majesty. It was chosen by my parents in times of old.”
“And are you an Elf friend?” Steady, crisp orders to speak truthfully and accept the consequences.
Breathing shallowly, Elendil answered with deliberate care. “We have not seen Elves on these shores in many years. And even if we did, my first duty is to Númenor and her queen.”
“And yet you speak their tongue,” Tar-Míriel accused.
“As a boy I was tutored in Quenya,” Elendil acknowledged. “I was fifteen when the law abolished the old texts.”
The queen’s expression did not change. She scrutinized Elendil much as she had before his promotion, as though by sight alone she could pry out every weakness. “Then you also know, Elendil, that while other kingdoms trade in living wares, we do not allow their ships to disgrace our shores.”
“We refuse all trade with such markets,” Elendil confirmed. “Bartering over one race might encourage us to devaluate our own people, and thus Númenor would fall.”
“And so it has been since my father’s rule,” Míriel stated. “Yet now I find myself at an impasse. The King of Khazad-Dûm brings me a gift; a token of his aspiration for a vibrant future between our people.”
The implications were sobering. “This… gift…” Elendil probed.
“An Elf,” Míriel confirmed. “A prince from the early days before the war. To the Dwarves, such is a treasure beyond imagination. He knows that I dare not refuse.”
“What of the law?” Elendil wondered. “If the people believe that you are shirking the values laid by your father now that you are Queen….”
“There may be anarchy,” Míriel agreed apprehensively. “Which is why it will be received as a gift, and treated thus.”
“And what will you do with your… gift… your Majesty?” Elendil posed.
“Once the ceremony is ended and the Dwarves leave our shores, I should like to give him to you.” Sensing Elendil’s consternation, Míriel clarified, “As my most trusted Sea Captain and one who speaks the Elf’s language, it would be deemed an appropriate reward for your service. You must bring him to the palace when the Dwarven delegates return, but he is not to be transferred from your household.” Softer, she added, “I know you will treat him well.”
One question remained. “Have you consulted with Lord Pharazôn?”
Dark eyes shuttered with disdain. “He has already made his stance plain, and I assure you, I would not leave a sea snail in his charge. Will you accept this task, Captain?”
Please. She could order him to take the Elf, but a reluctant handler had little motivation to protect that which would swiftly become a burden. As it was, she was placing him in impossible position of explaining to his children why he now owned a fourth member of their household.
And yet the Elf could not remain in the palace without inciting the people to accept further living trades. The queen could give him to someone else, of course, but Lord Pharazôn would declare any alternatives as an insult to his position unless she had sound reason to refuse him.
Swallowing his doubt, Elendil nodded. “I will take him under my charge.”
Relief sparked in dark eyes wearied by politics. “Thank you, Captain,” Míriel sighed. “Whatever you need will be provided. Do not hesitate to ask.”
“How long do I have to prepare?” The weight fettered Elendil’s chest as he estimated the responsibility of claiming another living being. He would need a room, more supplies, time to acclimate the Elf to his new living arrangements — Valar, it would completely overturn their routine and Isildur was so close to the sea trials….
But the alternative was unacceptable. They would simply have to make do.
“You have two weeks,” Míriel said. “The welcoming feast will last for seven days while terms are negotiated, followed by a ceremony celebrating the alliance. I expect you to be present for the full duration.”
“As you wish,” Elendil said, bowing his head in acknowledgement. “Am I to have a name for this… prince?”
A wan smile graced the queen’s lips. Navigating uncharted seas could end in new shores or a sunken ship, but she knew whom she could trust. “His name is Elrond.”