1. We Meet Again
There is blood everywhere, pouring out from the temple like water. People are standing in lines for several yards, some crying, some shaking, some silent. A young girl is at the head. They pull her in, struggling, crying, and screaming. She is set near the altar, held there by thick chains, crested in blood and sweat. The last victim was there not so long before.
I am forced to stand there, lest my own family and life be forfeited. The Necromancer is there, I can see him. He stands near the corner of the room, acting as though justice is being done, but I--I can see the bloodlust in his eyes. He wants nothing more then for her to die, and to die painfully, slowly.
With one motion of his hand, the girl is dragged as far as the chains will allow to the altar, and a priest produces a knife. Without warning, he lashes out at her over and over again, and within moments, her body falls limply to the ground, covered in hundreds of red, slash marks. More blood is added to the endless pool that trails out of the building, never ending, never stopping. They all died that day, and I stood there, watching . . .
The darkness approaches, purposefully slowing to prolong the definite encounter. I look up, and where a body should stand, all I can see is blackness. It motions to something in its hand, and I see a chain, a silver seashell dangling at the end . . .
Miriel, I can run faster! I call, struggling to catch up to my older cousin. She turns, laughing.
"I can run faster!" she states, laughing. "If we race right now, I will beat you."
"Fine!" I yell, crossing my arms. "I will race you right now."
"Be prepared to lose!" she says, adding to the playful banter. Within seconds, with both charge across the field, Miriel and I running at the same pace. We cross the decided finish line at almost the exact time.
"See!" I say, standing proudly. "I may not be able to beat you, but I can run just as fast."
"Aye, you can!" she says, toying with a chain around her neck, bringing the silver seashell that dangles from it forward.
I glare at the darkness, choking up blood. MURDER! my mind screams, rages.
I watch from the ship, clenching the railing until my knuckles are white. A roaring, crashing sound is heard in the distance, all eyes turning toward it. A great wave is coming, and my eyes follow its path. It is going to drown them! I realize, wanting to scream. I pray desperately to any higher power, begging it to withdraw this, to let those who are innocent live. Not everyone could escape . . . only a few . . .
The ships sail away, and the wave crashes the enourmous island as though it were nothing but a play thing. For a moment, I think I see my beloved cousin, the enslaved queen, standing on the Meneltarma, but then she is gone . . .washed away . . .
It is coming closer now, preparing to deal the final death blow.
"Tar-Miriel, the Queen of Numenor, has become my wife. I now assume the throne as Ar-Pharozon, and your Queen from this day forward will be known as Ar-Zimraphel."
I can see him there, holding her by an invisible chain, choking the life out of her . She turns toward me, eyes crying unshed tears, and to me, she seems like a portrait, beautiful, but so sorrowful. She turns away, accepting her doom.
Its arm is raised, it is bringing the weapon down, now. I have only a few precious moments of life left.
She will not come. "I will not abandon my people," she says with conviction, but she does not believe so strongly in this fear as I do. Something horrible is coming, something that can be saved from, if she wills it. She is stubborn though, and will not be moved.
"Please," I beg, trying to make her see. "Do not stay here. We have room, we do. Please come." She is the only distant family I have left. I do not want to lose her like our other cousin, who was slaughtered in the cursed temple.
"I will see you again," she says, lacking conviction. She points me toward the ships in the distance, and leaves. I never see her again. She is drowned under the waves, like the evil dogs who led Numenor to ruin.
It is bringing the weapon closer. Murderer of Miriel and Numenor, I scream in my mind, We meet again.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.