The Fall of Numenor

[Rosie Gamgee]

Amariel gasped and reached a hand out toward her brother, though he was too far away for her to touch him. Whipping her head around toward the sound of the voices- although the armored men (seven of them, she counted, all wearing black livery) were all round them- she tightened her arm around the two little gi.rls in her charge. Their small hands gripped her arm. The fear they felt was tangible as their breathing came quicker and louder.

“What is the meaning of this, soldier?” Demaethor asked the man who had cried out and drawn his sword. Amariel noted he had not drawn his. Her heart beat a little quicker.

“Demaethor, you are under arrest for treason!” the soldier shouted, indifferent to the captain’s tone. He made a signal, and the other soldiers began to advance upon Demaethor.

The captain held up his hand with authority. “Stay where you are, if you value your lives,” he commanded. “You will not assail a captain!”

“You are forthwith stripped of your rank!” the first soldier returned, although the others had indeed halted on Demaethor’s command. “You are a disgrace to your King, your army and your race.”

Demaethor did not flinch or blink, but Amariel could see the words stung him. But he remained where he was, daring any of them to attack him. His eyes seemed to bore into the soldier. “Is this how faithful service is to be rewarded?” he asked scornfully, and Amariel blinked in surprise. Demaethor turned a bit to gesture toward her and the children. “I have brought my King and your master the prizes they have sought these past days: the children of traitors; and now I am to be counted among them?” Amariel’s heart stopped and a clipped cry escaped her lips. Anardil had turned toward her, and his eyes cut into her soul. They were betrayed.

Demaethor did not heed her cry. “What say you?” he demanded harshly of the soldier, but Amariel did not hear the words. Her mind sought a way of escape, but all their routes were cut off. A fire entered her soul, rage and shame, thinking of how she had trusted the treacherous man, how she had cried on his shoulder, how she had even thought she could have lo.ved him.

“Wretch!” she shouted, and the soldiers started at her enraged tone. Demaethor turned to her, his face a mask.

“Silence!” the soldier before Demaethor shouted. His eyes turned back to Demaethor, and there was doubt now in his voice. “We are ordered to deliver you to Lord Sauron. The charge is one of high treason. Our source told us you had joined the Faithful.”

Demaethor laughed. “You mean Galdureth?” he asked. Amariel’s head shot up. He had known Galdureth was false. Bitter tears stung her eyes. He continued, “Galdureth was a fool. And as for the charge of treason, here is proof of my allegiance.” He nodded toward them again. “These are children of Sauron’s enemies, the Faithful. Their parents have been exterminated- now their offspring will not plague us any longer. If you wish to thwart me, you may take it up with Lord Sauron.” The soldier’s sword lowered and he moved toward Amariel and the children, inspecting them. Demaethor’s frown upon the man deepened. “Well?”

Amariel’s anger seethed against Demaethor. “Thou cursed betrayer!” she shouted, her voice shaking and shrill with rage. “May thy forked tongue be damned; may thy black heart fail thee in a dark hour!”

The soldier before her laughed, and glanced at Demaethor. “Oh, she’s a feisty one,” he said, and his eyes bent on her. “Comely, too.” Amariel recoiled as the man’s eyes wandered over her shape, studying her in a way all too familiar to her. The soldier glanced again at Demaethor. “Tell me; must she be delivered to Sauron immediately?” Amariel’s heart faltered and she felt sick. She looked back at the man she had trusted, but he scorned her gaze.

“Put that sword away, soldier,” Demaethor said, “And I may let you keep her.”

The soldier turned back toward Demaethor, making no move to sheath his blade. “You may let me keep her? My orders stand, Demaethor. You will be brought to Sauron, and I shall keep her regardless.” He took another step toward Demaethor and never got the chance to regret it.

Demaethor’s arm shot up and a little dagger buried itself in the soldier’s throat. He fell to the ground, gagging, blood flowing freely from his wound as the dagger was withdrawn. The other soldiers drew their swords and advanced upon Demaethor. He turned about quickly, his own sword ringing as he drew it. The first soldier to reach him did not last long. Their blades met twice. Demaethor’s gloved fist struck the other man across the chin and he fell back. Demaethor finished the deed just as another soldier leapt upon him from behind. The captain swung about forcefully and the other man stumbled away. Another came to his aid, though, and Demaethor stooped quickly to pluck up the fallen soldier’s sword. Wielding both, he slew the pair quickly. By this time two more were on him. They had seen the mistakes of their comrades and stayed outside the reach of Demaethor’s arm, clashing blades until they saw an advantage.

Amariel remembered the one remaining soldier and wondered, too late, where he was. A gloved hand seized her wrist and dragged her down from the horse. The two little gi.rls screamed. Amariel landed on the ground hard, but the soldier dragged her to her feet. She screamed and fought him as he tried to haul her away. He ignored her and grabbed her other wrist. She brought her hand up and bit hard between his glove and gauntlet. The soldier shouted and let go of Amariel’s wrist, but only to bring his hand up and deliver a solid blow to her cheekbone. A bright white light popped inside her head and her face burned. She fell near-senseless while he seized her about the waist with one hand and grasped her by the hair with the other. The pain brought her back to consciousness somewhat.

“Stay away from her!” a little voice shouted. Anardil’s face came into Amariel’s hazy vision. He had a sword obviously to heavy for him in his hands and he whacked the soldier with it, only managing to dint his shin-guard.

“Anardil!” Amariel screamed as the soldier’s boot lashed out and kicked the boy savagely. He fell back with a pitiful cry. Amariel shouted and brought her fists up to pound futilely upon the man’s shoulder.