[BALTHENORN]
The man was lying on the ground.
Dead.
Unconscious.
Asleep.
The man was a stranger, found mere steps away from the city’s main fountain. No one had seen him enter through the closed and well-guarded city gate. The growing, bewildered crowd had begun to gather for the market, just after daybreak. They questioned among themselves as to who might have known him as all declared their ignorance of ever seeing his bearded face before. They had all reached the same conclusion, he was not from the city, nor of the city Mithlond or the realm. Many knew many things, and some knew everyone, but none knew this stranger nor how he came to be in their midst.
Being revived from some enchanted, deep slumber he arose on unsteady feet clutching his aching head as his roving eyes disclosed that he was as confused as the watching crowds were about him. His odd accent and odder word usage confirmed he was a lost man among them indeed. How he came to be there was as startling to him as the confused faces he encountered.
“Come with me,” an older man named Sardia encouraged, “I know a place where you can rest a while and take some food and drink. Worry not of the cost, your well-being is more important.”
The stranger appeared to be confused, in between his slumber and struggling to gain a hold of being awake. He followed, “I shall.” The disorientated man accepted the offer of leaving the staring people’s interest behind for the senior who led him elsewhere.
After a few streets, the Cooper gestured for the stranger to enter The Clean Plate. The hospitality of the tavern’s smells was matched by the inviting bustle, laughter, and music which met the wide gaze of the newcomer. The food and wine were as abundant as the Keeper’s generosity upon hearing the story, long before any talk of coin to cover his expenses. The stranger quietly ate, cautious at first then appreciative upon realizing he was indeed fully awake. Though for a long while, he asked more questions than offering up any answers in return. “Balthenorn, my name, and the last thing I remember was being asleep - in my own bed. To you all many thanks for showing me such concern. I – I have no, no coin to repay such gracious care you have shown me.”
The more he spoke the more questions those about him had, but his guide injected, “Well, we are all just glad the gods have made you whole.” Then added, “There is room enough and a goodly mat on the roof for you to rest. In time, if a need arises have Colfon here call for me, ask and your needs will be covered. Be safe.”
With that, the stranger was left alone even as the music began again. Balthenorn sat there taking in his surroundings. After some time, he eased back into his seat feeling he was safe, but still confused, searching for something familiar. Things were things, but they were certainly not his familiar surroundings. Yet, there was a name that came to his hazed thoughts and almost the impression of a face. His mind was still trying to puzzle the details of how he had left his bed chamber altogether. Looking down at the goblet before him, he enjoyed sipping the second cup of freely given wine. This time the flavor was less than he recalled; then he smiled, realizing - for a better coin it would not have been so watered down.
Balthenorn sat there for a long while taking things in. After some time, the tavern keeper, Colfon approached him to pour another cup, but refused, “Blessings, let my benefactor know, I have gone for a while but desire to see him in the morning. I shall return later and take the bed that was offered.”
“As you say, sir, I will let Master Cooper know.”
PART II
At that moment, when Balthenorn was about to leave his table and explore the city another person took up the seat across from him and said, “We do not get very many Men traveling here to Mithlond, actually none at all. Why have you come, Balthenorn you should be forthcoming with your answer as you are greatly in need of allies here. I am Mardwe, one of those who carry out the word of Cirdan, Lord of this harbor.” The eyes of the other patrons resumed their talkative exchanges.
The dark-skinned bearded man gave a half smile, “Thank you for allowing a stranger to sampling your hospitality. I can only be truthful as a lie would sound horribly unbelievable to you.” A maiden caught his glance and refilled his drink as his new companion refused the offering.
Giving a half smile, Mardwe countered with, “You are concerned that the truth will not be on your side?”
Balthenorn’s drink had not been the watered-down version he expected, and smiled, “The opposite, Mardwe. I am afraid you will think the truth is only guile in disguise.”
Seeing shrewdness in the newcomer’s words, “One may only know once the tale is shared.”
Balthenorn began, “I’ve been having these – dreams, of a woman. I know, I know it’s always a woman’s fault. But this one was far different, and she kept appearing in my dreams over and again. At some point we began to talk, but before I could even tell her that she must have been a goddess with a message from on high she accused me of intruding into her dreams. Then after a long time of not dreaming of being in that strange place we began to meet again, and it was then that she shared things with me. It’s hard to recall a dream once you’ve woken up, like catching candle smoke. That sheltered canopy and woods were always –“
“Krilleeos!”
“Excuse me?”
“What you speak of is the dreamland of Krilleeos, and even rarer is the Gazebo of Kor. I only wonder where a man, the likes of you could have heard things from my people’s most primal past. Kor is as far removed as the beginning is from the end of all things.” Mardwe’s eye squinted, “This - woman, what did she look like, pray tell me?”
Balthenorn’s eyes betrayed that he thought of her constantly, “Well, she – because she looked as bone-white as one of your people I thought her to be one of the real gods herself. Tall, fair, with a moonlit glow, and eyes that held a light like a sun dancing on water. A long, beautiful face beyond compare. I was afraid when I first laid eyes on her, for never even in my dreams had I seen something so unworldly about her person.”
Mardwe seemed taken aback by the compliment, “Indeed!”
It was obvious the man’s confession was heartfelt, “I have never before seen people of your race before. Gods walking among us with the ease and industry of men.” Something about his word choice offended his companion, so Balthenorn adjusted, “I mean only that our gods are arrogant reflections of ourselves, unseen excuses for our leaders to bear down their own demands upon the people. I was the Chief Master Mason for King Nimrod, and his foot was ever on the backs of his people, like steppingstones across a pound for his will alone was made to prevail. Just as swift were his commands carried out by the blade of a sword if ever his word was called into question. It was because of his might that my tower breached the heavens to defy the gods themselves!”
Pondering the man’s strange tale, Mardwe confessed, “Breached the heavens? I do not recall ever hearing any of this or a Dark Lord known by such name as Nimrod.”
Balthenorn laughed to himself as he drank, then, “The breach was only to speak of the tower’s greatness, my friend for it was more than five thousand cubits in height. As for the Dark Lord, the world is filled with them is it not, especially after the retribution that befell us from the angry sky god in having built it. The goodwill people once had eroded into the selfishness of personal pride. The world – our realm – was scattered abroad, leaving us all confounded. Dark lords abounded after the fashion of Nimrod in every place that men collected. Each city-state that sprang up was far worse than the one before it. Confusion was as prevalent – as, as the look, you are giving me now.”
“You are indeed a stranger in an altogether different land, Balthenorn for yours, and this Nimrod are but strange words to me. Even your tale is unknown to us. I know nothing of what you are sharing but must profess that I hear no guile in your telling of it.” Mardwe, smiled, “You are far different even from among the men of Harad, and I sense there is no influence of the Dwarves about you either.”
His brows furrowed, “Dwarves? Have I not awakened yet? I must still be dreaming, gods walking in the midst of men and now you speak of dwarfs. What kind of world have I been dropped into?”
At that pronouncement, Mardwe’s attention was captivated, and from there on he pondered them deeply, “Be most assured Balthenorn my people are far from being gods, and you are not dreaming. The Valar themselves are far removed from us, yet ever do they live in our hearts, even if only as half-forgotten tales in these fading days the sons of The One are still remembered. No, no I do not take you for a liar, but I do not yet know what to make of your words or where you came from.”
With that Balthenorn swallowed the last of his drink, “Well then, am I being detained by the order of the lord Cirdan?
Smiling Mardwe released his gaze, “No, yet from what you have believably shared there still remains a great mystery surrounding your presence among us, my friend. Know this, Elves will not hinder your way, Balthenorn. The One, alone who has ordained the path of Men, withheld that vision from the Valar themselves, and so I give you up to the One.”
It was now the stranger’s turn to be confused, but he accepted the sentiment of his companion’s myth, “It seems I must reconsider what my path in life even means to me anymore. Maybe of all, this is some divine second chance I have been given.”
Mardwe’s eyes grew even more puzzled as he rose to leave, “As you desire, know that if ever ours cross again I am here to aid as I may in your journey my friend.” He nodded, gesturing with a hand to his heart.
Balthenorn rose to return the salutation, “My friend.” With that he left and began to explore the upper half of the twin cities, beginning by taking in the view of the river which divided them.
…………………………………………………………..
PART III
Balthenorn’s fringed tunic, long skirt, tall stature, and well-groomed beard upon his chest all marked him as a man set apart. In any land, the black man would have been seen as a man of noble distinction, but here he remained a stranger from unknown parts. Nevertheless, the Mason fit in his own skin and felt owing to change for no one. From the tavern, his high-laced sandals led him down the tiled streets of the marble city to the famed harbor to the south. A stone bridge spanned the river which divided the twin cities. Seeking a better view of the expanse Balthenorn ventured for the well-traveled way. The Bay of Luhn was a bustle of incoming and outgoing ships that looked like blazing white, carved swans, and for a moment there, had he not known differently, Balthenorn would have thought he was back home in -. His heart stopped in midbeat even as he approached the middle of the bridge’s thoroughfare. Statued where he stood, breathless as the stone bridge itself.
Mere paces away, with an equally stunned expression of utter disbelief was – her. Both were held in expressionless silence as their eyes locked upon seeing one another. At that moment, without an exchange of words, Balthenorn’s heart raced at seeing another man standing beside her. The elf - turned away from peering over the stone-walk’s rail and upon seeing him announced to the woman, “There he is – my friend.” Mardwe greeted Balthenorn, whose eyes remained on the woman. “Ah, I see you are taken with –“
“Le’narah, I am his sister. Mardwe has told me some about you, welcome to our city of Mithlond.” It was the Goddess herself who stood before him, speaking to him while he was fully awake!
Balthenorn’s head bowed, “My Lady.”
“See to his affairs, sister as I have duties of my own to attend to in the lower portion of the city. Balthenorn, be well for I leave you in good hands, my brother.”
The stranger returned the smile and head bow, “My brother.” Seeing the city’s administrator turn to leave, Balthenorn’s eyes darted back to the tall woman who drew a step closer to him.
Her stunning smile softly instructed him, “Come, walk with me along the way, shall you.”
Downward from the arching roadway, she led him back the way he had already come, and after some time he broke the silence, “How are you?”
Her eyes and smile glanced sideways to his, “I am well, and more than blessed and joyful than you can imagine now in meeting you, like this.”
“As am I,” she could tell that his reply was with great restraint and relief.
“This is the main Plaza of Lindol, lindol’vahnir, and this is the fountain of Ulmo’valanadre. It is said that the Vala over the oceans, Ulmo himself visited these waters which became as salty as the sea, and just as green. He disturbed this pool, healing any who entered it of their injuries, heartaches, or refreshed their joys.”
Her voice was like a song of a lark to Balthenorn’s ears, but his face wanted to laugh; he asked noticing she had seen his smirk, “You believe all that?”
“So goes the tradition though none living has witnessed such an occurrence,” Lenarah smirked back, “Such are the myths and things to believe in.” Then stopping in mid-stride, she asked, “I hear a sadness in your voice – a sorrow, indeed for the loss of home?”
“Replaced only by the overwhelming joy of getting to see you like this, my Lady.”
Questioning brows darted up, “I hear the unspoken, ‘again’? Let it remain so, as a matter left unspoken and between us alone. From here let us build upon those previous gleanings; yes?”
“As you wish. Your brother?” Balthenorn inquired as his eyes softly searched those of hers looking deeply into his.
“Mardwe has an inquisitive mind of his own and speaks little of it to me but in the counsel to the king is he most cunning. Also, he does not begrudge what his sister takes joy in as Mardwe knows my heart seeks of its own accord.”
Balthenorn’s face lit up, “Joy?”
Hers reflected his, “Is it not joyful when strangers become as long-lost friends reunited?”
“Joy – it is, my Lady,” added with cutting eyes, looking for any would-be spies about them, “In meeting you as a long-lost friend.”
Lenarah’s head tilted a bit, “Mardwe shared that you have a room at the tavern, I am most assured better accommodations may be summonsed elsewhere.”
Balthenorn confessed, “A roof more than a room. I am touched, taken with great appreciation; however, I was heading for the docks in search of –“
“Work!” Lenarah exclaimed, “among the ships, were you not of masonry skills? I see you could lend great talent to our masters and would dare add, soon after even be elevated in their guild.” Then, she stopped and almost whispered, “Did you bring it with you?”
He removed a necklace from underneath his shirt. A white river stone, etched with an eye symbol, with both ends wire-wrapped and laced with a simple leather string. Holding it out for her to see Balthenorn asked, “Yes, just like you said, but how does it work?”
“Belief.”
“Magic?”
“Are they not one and the same?”
He wanted the secret, “But, how?”
She simplified the experience instead, “I placed the pebble under the stone, and you found it – and here we are.”
“How?”
She leaned forward and kissed him, “The why - is the far more important ingredient.” Then for the first time they embraced.
His voice smiled, “You lavish me again with high praise my lady. I am deeply honored by your faith in me, Lenarah but let us see some time pass in allowing others to learn what you perceive in me.”
Lenarah projected a sense of pride in him, “They will perceive it, as I have, in the very moment they meet you, Balthenorn.” Her voice carried as she walked a few steps beyond where he stood, “You - have done what you set out to do, from - our conversations, and I suppose time to grow wise in that realm as well. I wait with grave fondness until we make it so.” She smiled with a head bow.
Balthenorn returned the gesture, “My Lady.” He then turned aside and headed for Lindol’s ship haven, noticing she looked back for a second glance and both exchanged smiles.
“Careful with that one,” came a voice from around the corner.
Surprised their conversation was overheard, “Meaning?”
A cobbler stood outside his repair shop, “Our folk does not mingle with other races. It is by her brother’s leave you are even allowed to walk among us. Cirdan has the final word on those who enter Mithlond, and no one knows how you accomplished that feat.”
Feeling his face flush, Balthenorn snapped, “Better attention would serve you in keeping to your own matters. I am seeking to be a dock hand.”
It was the shopkeeper’s turn to be surprised, “YOU? Even being a man that you are, everyone can glean that you are no dock hand, fisher, or cooper.”
Offended, he asked, “What skill would you attribute to the likes of me?”
“Noblemen do not have trades but learning and bloodlines. Maybe a scholar of some sort.”
Balthenorn confessed his trade, “Chief Master stonemason.”
Pointing down the street the cobbler directed him, “Their guild is over there, save your short life the time on the sea, stranger.”
Balthenorn exposed his confusion, “Short life?”
He elaborated, “The doom of Men is their gift of death, we elves must linger till our search finds us out.”
The man was taken aback, “Indeed! Only the broken back of desperation would have a man think in such a manner.”
Finally coming around to introductions the cobbler began, “I am Fethwan, and you are?”
“Fethwan. I am Balthenorn.”
Standing his full height matching the stranger’s gaze, he asked, “Balthenorn, how many years would you say I have walked this middle earth?”
“You look no more than - forty-five years of age.”
The thin elf divulged his age, “In two weeks’, time I will see my one thousandth eight hundred and twelfth year.”
Balthenorn smiled, holding his back, “Here I was feeling ancient at fifty-six. The gods have blessed you indeed, sir.”
Fethwan nodded a half smile, “I am young among the standards of these folks you see about you, Balthenorn. Longevity from early on taught many lessons from our own missteps in life, our wisdom comes with no longer being rash to rush in where the other races expire so easily.”
It was a subject the stranger was growing more interested in hearing about, “The - other races? I have heard of Elves and Dwarves, what other kind of beings are there here?”
Fethwan’s expression went paler and more serious, “The days are drawing closer for us all to fade from the world Balthenorn, I would instead encourage you to pursue, in caution, the ways of the heart, for even her time is waning.”
The bearded lost man suddenly felt enlightened that this was the way of things, “Thank you, for everything. I will explore what the sea has to teach and learn more about your people, may they all be as generous as those I have met so far.”
Thereafter, Balthenorn came to be known as a sailor, quick in adapting to life on the open sea, fishing nets, and its business of trade. All those who came to know him were awe-struck by his proficiency, eagerness to learn, and willingness to humbly share what others did not know. Then, after three years, even Cirdan himself sought him out to teach the art of being a shipwright and the details of its craft. Under Balthenorn’s direction, Cirdan’s fleet doubled. Seven years ended when Balthenorn said, “My lord, Cirdan to aid in harboring and keeping these vessels seaworthy a lighthouse raised in warning to their crews would not be a waste of my other skills.”
To which that lord replied, “A most excellent and generous giving. I understand from Mardwe the sea was not your first love, but stone. If your heart is in it, then my will and backing would lend to what resources you may be lacking. Only, I might add, share with those of that guild and Mithlond shall have a watchtower to be proud of. I have perceived for a long while the coming of a grave darkness, one that will take hold and fall worse than before, ages ago, ere its flooded demise.”
…………………………………………………………..
PART IV
Lenarah came to Balthenorn, after his three years as a sailor and seven as a shipbuilder; as he stood before her again, ten years after their last meeting on the bridge, they embraced for the first time. Now as he was about to break ground on his new venture to raise a grand lighthouse for the twin harbor, he said, “My lady, in all the passing of years never was my longing to have you in my arms ever held back from my thoughts, please know that to be the truth. I can only hope that I do not sound the part of a fool and that you feel the same for me.”
“I have always longed to have you, Balthenorn. Come before Cirdan’s court this evening in formal attire, of your custom, and appear for the purpose of us meeting in the eyes of the people, that we may begin to follow what has been hidden in our hearts from all others.”
“I shall take your words as a command, and shall be there, my lady.”
LATER:
“My knowledge is that you have only lived in Mithlond these past brief ten years, is that correct Balthenorn?” The elf before him was robed in a layering of lace and fringe, silver, and gold prestige’s tokens of extravagance, who continued with, “A sailor upon the seas I believe I heard, and then alongside even our Harbor Master learning the art of crafting vessels.” His pretentious tone was unlike the others Balthenorn had encountered before as the Counselman added, “Now it seems from out of nowhere you have become a master mason, eager to produce the promise of a grand lighthouse. What have I missed, Balthenorn?”
Without even a glance about the room he answered, “Would have appeared you have missed nothing, lord Vethdema.”
Yet he just as quickly countered with, “Oh, on the contrary sir, I have missed the silent details of an entire life prior to your mysterious arrival to our realm and city altogether. Why would that be?”
“A past life is forgotten, in exchange for the gifted second chance from the gods, and that should be left as good enough for you as it is for me.”
Vethdema caught a glance of the Lord approaching, “Cirdan are you not in the least curious? Would that you compel this man to divulge his past, here is the presence of us all.”
“I would rather ask instead, lord Vethdema should everyone here be privy to the details - such as those in your own life that I am equally aware of?” The one he addressed looked horrified and taken aback. Cirdan added, “I am content with only knowing about what the good man before us desires to share. If, as he alluded to, Eru has sought to bestow a second and better chance upon him, then who are any of us to impede upon his journey? Lord Vethdema, if I am not bothered, then you shall not bother as well. Put aside the people’s gossip, Vethdema, and be the example of one who refuses such insolence now.”
“Yes, my lord, fully understood,” as he backed away with head bowed, “Forgive my ingratitude, Balthenorn.”
“Lenarah, you may have heard through your brother, but I would like to formally introduce you to the Stranger, this is Balthenorn, a student and fully come ship’s craftsman in his own right.”
“I am honored.” “We have seen one another from time to time, Lord Cirdan.”
“My Lady, the honor is mine”, “My lord.”
“Come now let us all be seated for the news of why we have truly gathered. Today begins a new venture in these Grey Havens, for a grand lighthouse shall be raised. Let it be the standard of such structures in the world to come, and a beacon for the ingathering of new beginnings, that its light guide and protect those who venture near the waters of the great sea.”
“Here, here!”
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PART V
Since the land had first been surveyed, even to the placement of the last of the seven polished plates that reflected light across the sea and land, Balthenorn’s focused attention had ever been on the construction’s details. The rising of the watchtower’s grand lighthouse was imbued with every intention toward perfection and pride. In all that time Lenarah visited him every day, feeding and conversing with him as though they had known one another in a previous life. In the three years of its undertaking, the people had come to see the real gift and worth of the architect, beyond being a sailor and shipbuilder, and never did he deviate from his promised task at hand, save once. The only day Balthenorn was not seen working on the Lighthouse of Mithlond was the day its Lord Cirdan wedded him to Lenarah. A rare love coupled among human and elf kind, three days before the tower’s completion.
From the beginning, Balthenorn had devised the tower to be far more than a mere lighthouse. In having found his sole adoration in the form of Lenarah he desired only to craft her the finest home he could imagine. Indeed, with several lower storerooms, a large kitchen, dining hall and grand meeting place, and bedrooms enough to be filled with the laughter of children someday. It was as noble as any courtly palace seen in all the realm. She was most astonished when at last he furnished it with all the surprised gifts Balthenorn had requested, befitting an Elven Queen. Time and time again he set his best hand forward to tell the Lord of Mithlond and its ruling council that he had no desire to be a leader over or among them, no aspirations of prestige or wealth or greatness, his only desired goal was to lavish his love upon Lenarah.
He acquired all that he did not ask for, and throughout all his long days Balthenorn remained a humble, loyal, and upright man; the Keeper of Mithlond’s Lighthouse was his only joy, beyond that of loving his wife.
Far exceeding the average longevity of other mortal men, Balthenorn died at the age of one hundred, forty, and three years. He surpassed that of the Dwarves of Mount Jebul, by one year and they mourned his loss as well for his light was a blessing to them also. For years the trade between elves and dwarves had grown silent, but they had begun to at least talk and share at least their hopes for more someday, thanks to the likes of men like Balthenorn.
Balthenorn and Lenarah were rarely seen without the other since they had professed their love publicly. Once he came into her life, he was her constant companion, and their eyes of affection were only for one another.
At an old age, Balthenorn said, “Life was only worth experiencing with you in it but forgive me my love for I fear this mortal shell can no longer endure what I demand of it.” With that, he began clutching his chest and then expired.
From that time onward Lenarah was ever seen dressed in black and her face veiled. Seldom was she seen and on those few occasions ever spoke or left their home. Truly heartbroken. Following the Great War, she was one of those first Noldorian elves to board the swan ships for the Undying Lands beyond the western rim of the world.
Though she fled with her people during the Great Departure, many since have sworn upon the gods themselves of having seen The Black Lady dressed in mourning walking the very stretch of beach where her beloved husband collapsed and died. On the anniversary of that May day, the people display black candles to recall those lovers, and the ones they themselves have loved and lost.
