“What do you suppose the catch is?” Valandil asked, looking out over the western coast of Númenor.
“What?” Ontamo was caught off guard. “Why should there be a catch?”
Valandil scoffed incredulously. “You cannot honestly believe that we are simply meant to sail around the island and camp for a night on the beach. That’s too easy!”
Ontamo rolled his eyes at his friend’s dramatics. “We are practicing going ashore without a dock, setting up a military standard camp, and taking watches. All skills we shall need on deployment.” Almost as an afterthought, he muttered, “Not everything has to be a challenge.”
Valandil shot him an annoyed glance, but got back to work.
As they neared the shore, the sail master appeared behind them. “Cadets.”
Valandil and Ontamo straightened and saluted instantly, startled. “Sailmaster!” they chorused.
The sail master did not look particularly impressed, but neither did he correct them. “I have an additional task for the both of you tonight.” Valandil held his breath and he could sense Ontamo doing the same beside him. Additional tasks were usually assigned as discipline, but occasionally, the sail master would give out extra responsibilities as opportunities to prove oneself.
“Your friend, Cadet Isildur, I want you to watch him tonight.”
Valandil and Ontamo shared a glance. “Watch him, Sailmaster?” Valandil asked.
“Yes.” The sail master towered over them and they tried not to be intimidated. “I fear he will do something particularly foolish tonight. Prevent him.”
“Yes sir!” That was… a fair request, Valandil thought. As talented a sailor as Isildur was, he was not known for his common sense. The west side of Númenor was sparsely populated, rural at best. Who knew what sort of trouble would await the man who acted first and thought later?
“Isildur…” Isildur shook his head in a vain attempt to rid himself of the voice. She was always louder the further west he went. Luckily, his regiment had no women, so all he had to do was ignore any female voices and pretend he wasn’t going mad. Or that the ghosts weren’t driving him mad.
“Isildur.” She plagued him all throughout evening drills, Her voice rang through his ears as he laid out his bedroll. No matter how hard he tried to block Her out, Her voice was there, beckoning.
“Isildur!” Isildur tossed and turned late into the night, oblivious to his friends’ worried glances. He couldn’t possibly sleep with someone shouting in his ear, but he could hardly tell someone about Her without his madness becoming known. He just had to wait until they sailed back east. He had to leave before…
“ISILDUR!” Her voice rang from the mountains like a fallen temple bell and Isildur could take it no longer. Like a man possessed, he leapt from his bedroll and took off towards the mountains, quick as an arrow from a longbow.
Valandil, who had been resting nearby, followed hot on his heels, pausing only to kick Ontamo to wakefulness. He didn’t even stop to salute the sail master as he tore past, just called over his shoulder, “I’m in pursuit!”
Isildur dashed up the slope and crashed through the underbrush, heedless of the scratches he was surely collecting. Up and up and up they climbed, Valandil always just a few steps behind his friend.
Just as Valandil thought his legs would give out from under him, they reached a clearing on top of one of the smaller hills and Isildur skidded to a stop. “Isildur?” Valandil tried. “Isildur, we need to get back to camp.”
Isildur didn’t respond. Instead, he entered the clearing as if in a trance and walked towards the shrine in its center. The shrine was clearly ancient; a cracked, moss-grown pillar with a statue of a woman on top. It was surrounded by deep blue, faintly glowing flowers.
“Isildur, this place is creepy. We are going. Come on.” Valandil made to grab him by the wrist, meaning to drag him back to camp, but was crashed into from behind by Ontamo. They fell to the ground in a heap and, before Valandil could stop him, Isildur reached out and took the statue-woman by the hand.
The very air seemed to freeze in its place. All of the night animals ceased their noise. All save the nightingales. Dozens of the birds gathered and began to swarm the clearing, screaming, clicking, and warbling.
Valandil recovered first, rushing into the swarm with Ontamo close behind. The birds repelled them at first, pecking their faces and clawing their hair, but they dispersed soon enough. There, at the center, Isildur lay crumpled at the foot of the statue, unharmed save for the blood streaming from his nose.
Isildur woke to a pounding headache the next morning back on the ship. Her warning still rang through his mind. “It is too late to turn back. They are going to destroy your people and you with them if you do not go soon. Flee to Middle Earth, you and all those who are still Faithful. Go!”
He pondered on Her warning. Its meaning was obvious: the Faithful needed to flee before it was too late. The rest was not so clear. Who were “they”? Why had She chosen to warn him of all people?
He sat up in his hammock and immediately regretted it as his head started spinning. “Good morning, Singollo,” came Valandil’s tired voice from the hammock next to his.
“What’s the time?” Isildur grunted, ignoring the jab.
“I do not know, nor do I particularly care. The sailmaster sent me down here to rest since I didn’t get much sleep last night. Too busy chasing you through the jungle.” He slung his arm over his face dramatically. “He wants to speak to you, by the way. About what happened last night.”
“About what happened la- oh no…” The details were fuzzy in Isildur’s mind, save Her warning, but he did remember leaving the camp without the leave of the sail master. He flipped out of his hammock, landing semi-gracefully on the floor. “I don’t care what kind of flowers they use in my funeral, just make sure they are blue?”
Valandil huffed a laugh, ignoring Isildur’s struggle to get his boots on. As he dashed out of the room, he paused in the doorway. “I really am sorry about last night. I do not know what came over me, but I am sorry for leading you on a wild goose chase.”
“It is not the end of the world,” Valandil sighed. “Although I may use it as an anecdote in your eulogy if you do not hurry up and get to the Sailmaster. He will have your head if you are late on top of everything else.”
Isildur’s eyes widened comically and he all but ran from the room.
Isildur knocked on the door of the captain’s quarters, willing his hands not to shake. He entered as soon as he was bid and stood at attention. “Sailmaster, I am deeply sorry for what happened last night. I do not know what came ov-”
“Peace, cadet,” the sail master interrupted him. “You are not in any trouble. Temporary madness is not an uncommon reaction to the West for the descendants of Elros.”
Isildur blinked. “It is not?”
The sail master shook his head. “No, although I admit yours was a stronger reaction than I’ve seen. The entire point of this exercise is to identify cadets such as yourself. Studying family trees is not always useful, as some of the Tar-Minyatur’s line are entirely unaffected and there have been many affected cadets who were not… related to him on paper, if you take my meaning.”
Isildur nodded. “I understand, Sailmaster. But, what is to be done about…this?”
“The solution is simple. You will only ever be deployed on the east side of the island, never the west. Now go,” he waved his hand dismissively. “Back to your post, cadet. You have slept long enough.”
Isildur saluted, a bubble of relief bursting in his chest. “Yes, Sailmaster. Thank you, Sailmaster.”
you’re going to be the death of me - masterlist [SOON]
[Social Media AU] Walking down your dog was a normal thing, but then she started running towards this handsome man and oh hi. That's my dog. Please don't steal her, she' mine.
