Back to the Sixth Age.
Apr. 11th, 2004 12:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
camwynWatched the first disc of FOTR today on my parents' new DVD player. Got to thinking about the Sixth Age stuff I hadn't done yet. This is a first draft of the next part of that story. You've met Sulen Tolfarsson, one of the professors at Tiryon University, and you may have heard her mention her colleague Professor Lluhadi; I figured it was time to give the Rydmick fellow the stage.
Inspired by this image, which was one of the challenges for this week in![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
15minuteficlets. I went way over the time limit, but I don't really care. Will edit later.
Three figures picked their way slowly up the sandy rise; one, short and pudgy with hair the colour of straw, traveled a little ahead of the others. The taller of the laggards, a dark-skinned lad from Old Runland, lagged behind by a few paces. A great pack was strapped across his back, broader and more awkwardly shaped than the other student's- not supplies, as would have been sensible, but something else. "Professor Lluhadi," he called, pausing to adjust the linen scarf he wore across his face, "are we almost there?"
"Just over the rise, Kanit." Lluhadi smiled. "Just over the rise."
Kanit sighed. His companion, a Rydmick native like Lluhadi himself, wiped the sweat from his brow miserably. Lluhadi laughed. "Oh, come now! The way you look, you would think us in the Ash Valley!"
"I might like that more," Kanit snapped back. "At least the Ash Valley is broad. At least it would not be trying to turn my ankles. And I would not be carrying this thrice-blasted thing. Professor? Why must I carry the crawler?"
"You have the shoulders for it, my boy, more than young Ganhet."
"No, Professor. I mean why can we not set it down, to follow us under its own power? Did you not make it so?"
Lluhadi paused beside something that might have been a pine tree in a kinder land. "Yes, I made FINNRO so," he said, "but I would not use that power lightly. Not in this place, and not for so little as a few minutes' convenience."
"A few-!" Kanit straightened indignantly, heedless for the moment of the weight he bore. "Professor, you of all people should know this thing's weight! This is not convenience, it is my bones!"
"Oh, do be still, Kanit," Lluhadi said absently as he peered over the rise. "Am I not paying you enough? Should there be more for you?"
"There should be rest, at least! Why should a man do the work, if there is a machine that can do it for him?"
"Because, Kanit," said Lluhadi, "we are not thirty strides from the top, and I do not want FINNRO getting sand in its innards. The tunnels will be challenge enough. Come, now! It's not so far as that."
Kanit swore under his breath, some vile words in some black speech no one understood, and scrambled up the rise after the professor. Even with his burden, he still moved more swiftly and surely than the lad of Rydmick- and more easily, too. The fair-haired student had no talent for finding the solid places in sand, nor for keeping the stuff from his mouth and nose. His kind, thought Kanit, were made for winter. The Professor more so than the other student- everyone said Professor Lluhadi was a true son of the North, of the snow-men who lived on the shores of Pelkar before the Grinding Ice- but in him that cold, old blood meant hardiness, and a will to endure even against heat. Kanit's people respected such strength, even when it was to their detriment, and so he complained no more about his load.
Still, he was glad when he reached the spot where the Professor stood. "Now?" he asked, one hand going to the straps that held the crawler to his back.
Lluhadi shook his head. "No," he said, "not now. But rest a while, first, because from here we go down."
"Down?" Kanit echoed, not wanting to believe. His shoulders throbbed at the very thought.
"Yes, Kanit. From here we go down. If it is any comfort to you, our way will be easy- long, but easy- and will end in shadows. Look you, and see."
He gestured; Kanit turned, and behind the scarf he gasped. The rise on which they stood grew no taller, though it issued forward into a single jagged finger of rock just broad enough for a very brave man to stand upon. The rest of the sandy rock sloped downwards, meeting the edge of a great canyon. It fanned out in a semicircle beyond them, full of stripéd pillars of standing stone carved over uncounted years. Here the stone rippled in pinks and oranges; there it riffled in darker colours, stained by water and time. Almost like sentinels the ridges stood, row on row, rank on rank, ever leading downwards into shadowed depths.
Lluhadi was smiling. "I do not know how deep this place goes," he said. "When the Ice came, and the fields of Rydmick were lost in unending winter, the Horsemen fled south to their allies of old. But those allies themselves were hard-pressed, as many foul things fled ahead of the ice as well, and there was little enough room for the Horsemen in what lands they could hold. Some few came this far south, to the debated lands on the border, and found this place. They called it the Hoof-print, left by Nahon, the steed of Bim; they were wrong, of course. No steed, however mighty, could create such a place…" He shook his head. "But they were right in one thing at least. The Hoof-print is old, older than the Ice."
"The Ice never came so far south," said Kanit, still awed by the canyon before him.
"No, of course not. I never said so- only that it was older." To the student's horror Lluhadi started down the way to the finger of rock. "My colleague, Professor Tolfarsson- she thinks much of the Sea, and of water's power to preserve. Hah! Water devours, boy. See you this canyon? This was water's doing. The soft rock's been eaten away, through more years and Ages beyond counting. Water devours. Earth abides. And here-" He reached the very end of the rock-spit, turning to take the whole thing in with a single expansive gesture. "Here it opens its doors for those willing to make the journey. The Hoof-print's as riddled with holes as any cheese, caves and tunnels where the soft rock gave way but the harder remained. We can't fit them- too big, too clumsy, we- but FINNRO can. It's what I built him for."
Kanit remembered to breathe as the professor trotted back to the broad, sandy ground. "The myths Tolfarsson holds in such regard are all well and good. But they are that- myths. I would see things as they are, Kanit, you know that. FINNRO's name comes of legend, but that is all the legend I will allow to touch my work. We will find truth here, Kanit, not stories. FINNRO will go into the earth here, and we will learn from its journey- and one day he will make the greatest journey of all, to tell us truly of the fire that burns forever in secret at the heart of the world."
Ganhet, half forgotten, staggered up beside Kanit. He dropped to the ground, sitting cross-legged with his head in his hands. Lluhadi glanced down at him, then up at the Runish student. "Perhaps I have asked too much for the moment?"
"It may be so," Kanit said, as diplomatically as he could manage.
Lluhadi nodded. "All right," he said. "Take FINNRO off. We'll eat first, and then find the way down. Second breakfast is the most important meal of the day, after all."
Inspired by this image, which was one of the challenges for this week in
15minuteficlets. I went way over the time limit, but I don't really care. Will edit later.Three figures picked their way slowly up the sandy rise; one, short and pudgy with hair the colour of straw, traveled a little ahead of the others. The taller of the laggards, a dark-skinned lad from Old Runland, lagged behind by a few paces. A great pack was strapped across his back, broader and more awkwardly shaped than the other student's- not supplies, as would have been sensible, but something else. "Professor Lluhadi," he called, pausing to adjust the linen scarf he wore across his face, "are we almost there?"
"Just over the rise, Kanit." Lluhadi smiled. "Just over the rise."
Kanit sighed. His companion, a Rydmick native like Lluhadi himself, wiped the sweat from his brow miserably. Lluhadi laughed. "Oh, come now! The way you look, you would think us in the Ash Valley!"
"I might like that more," Kanit snapped back. "At least the Ash Valley is broad. At least it would not be trying to turn my ankles. And I would not be carrying this thrice-blasted thing. Professor? Why must I carry the crawler?"
"You have the shoulders for it, my boy, more than young Ganhet."
"No, Professor. I mean why can we not set it down, to follow us under its own power? Did you not make it so?"
Lluhadi paused beside something that might have been a pine tree in a kinder land. "Yes, I made FINNRO so," he said, "but I would not use that power lightly. Not in this place, and not for so little as a few minutes' convenience."
"A few-!" Kanit straightened indignantly, heedless for the moment of the weight he bore. "Professor, you of all people should know this thing's weight! This is not convenience, it is my bones!"
"Oh, do be still, Kanit," Lluhadi said absently as he peered over the rise. "Am I not paying you enough? Should there be more for you?"
"There should be rest, at least! Why should a man do the work, if there is a machine that can do it for him?"
"Because, Kanit," said Lluhadi, "we are not thirty strides from the top, and I do not want FINNRO getting sand in its innards. The tunnels will be challenge enough. Come, now! It's not so far as that."
Kanit swore under his breath, some vile words in some black speech no one understood, and scrambled up the rise after the professor. Even with his burden, he still moved more swiftly and surely than the lad of Rydmick- and more easily, too. The fair-haired student had no talent for finding the solid places in sand, nor for keeping the stuff from his mouth and nose. His kind, thought Kanit, were made for winter. The Professor more so than the other student- everyone said Professor Lluhadi was a true son of the North, of the snow-men who lived on the shores of Pelkar before the Grinding Ice- but in him that cold, old blood meant hardiness, and a will to endure even against heat. Kanit's people respected such strength, even when it was to their detriment, and so he complained no more about his load.
Still, he was glad when he reached the spot where the Professor stood. "Now?" he asked, one hand going to the straps that held the crawler to his back.
Lluhadi shook his head. "No," he said, "not now. But rest a while, first, because from here we go down."
"Down?" Kanit echoed, not wanting to believe. His shoulders throbbed at the very thought.
"Yes, Kanit. From here we go down. If it is any comfort to you, our way will be easy- long, but easy- and will end in shadows. Look you, and see."
He gestured; Kanit turned, and behind the scarf he gasped. The rise on which they stood grew no taller, though it issued forward into a single jagged finger of rock just broad enough for a very brave man to stand upon. The rest of the sandy rock sloped downwards, meeting the edge of a great canyon. It fanned out in a semicircle beyond them, full of stripéd pillars of standing stone carved over uncounted years. Here the stone rippled in pinks and oranges; there it riffled in darker colours, stained by water and time. Almost like sentinels the ridges stood, row on row, rank on rank, ever leading downwards into shadowed depths.
Lluhadi was smiling. "I do not know how deep this place goes," he said. "When the Ice came, and the fields of Rydmick were lost in unending winter, the Horsemen fled south to their allies of old. But those allies themselves were hard-pressed, as many foul things fled ahead of the ice as well, and there was little enough room for the Horsemen in what lands they could hold. Some few came this far south, to the debated lands on the border, and found this place. They called it the Hoof-print, left by Nahon, the steed of Bim; they were wrong, of course. No steed, however mighty, could create such a place…" He shook his head. "But they were right in one thing at least. The Hoof-print is old, older than the Ice."
"The Ice never came so far south," said Kanit, still awed by the canyon before him.
"No, of course not. I never said so- only that it was older." To the student's horror Lluhadi started down the way to the finger of rock. "My colleague, Professor Tolfarsson- she thinks much of the Sea, and of water's power to preserve. Hah! Water devours, boy. See you this canyon? This was water's doing. The soft rock's been eaten away, through more years and Ages beyond counting. Water devours. Earth abides. And here-" He reached the very end of the rock-spit, turning to take the whole thing in with a single expansive gesture. "Here it opens its doors for those willing to make the journey. The Hoof-print's as riddled with holes as any cheese, caves and tunnels where the soft rock gave way but the harder remained. We can't fit them- too big, too clumsy, we- but FINNRO can. It's what I built him for."
Kanit remembered to breathe as the professor trotted back to the broad, sandy ground. "The myths Tolfarsson holds in such regard are all well and good. But they are that- myths. I would see things as they are, Kanit, you know that. FINNRO's name comes of legend, but that is all the legend I will allow to touch my work. We will find truth here, Kanit, not stories. FINNRO will go into the earth here, and we will learn from its journey- and one day he will make the greatest journey of all, to tell us truly of the fire that burns forever in secret at the heart of the world."
Ganhet, half forgotten, staggered up beside Kanit. He dropped to the ground, sitting cross-legged with his head in his hands. Lluhadi glanced down at him, then up at the Runish student. "Perhaps I have asked too much for the moment?"
"It may be so," Kanit said, as diplomatically as he could manage.
Lluhadi nodded. "All right," he said. "Take FINNRO off. We'll eat first, and then find the way down. Second breakfast is the most important meal of the day, after all."
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no subject
Date: 2004-04-11 04:13 pm (UTC)*grins wider than could be right at the recognizable names*
no subject
Date: 2004-04-11 04:33 pm (UTC)Kanit is, of course, from what the people of Aragorn's time would have called 'Rhun'. When the Grinding Ice swept down over the north of the world and ended the Fourth Age, it forced mass migrations of all kinds of people southwards. Gondor found it all but impossible to handle the massive influx of refugees from all directions, and was overrun by an ambitious lord who made himself the first head of state of Imperial Rhun. That Empire was eventually overthrown, ending the Fifth Age, but a few kernels of its old strength yet remain- Old Runland being the heart of what had once been that land. Kanit's name indicates that he comes from somewhere relatively close to what the people of Aragorn's time called Khand, on the eastern edge of Mordor.
The Ash Valley, of course, lies in what had been Mordor itself. Gorgoroth, I think. And the Hoof-print is in what the old maps termed South Gondor, which is marked 'now a debatable and deserted land' in most maps that I have seen. As for FINNRO, well, Lluhadi named his crawler after the legendary Thief of the Sun, who claimed fire from the gods and brought it to men. He wants his FINNRO to retrieve fire from the depths of the earth, which no one has ever managed before.
Just his luck that the poor bastard is going to succeed.
no subject
Date: 2004-04-12 12:41 am (UTC)Oh, and I almost forgot...
Date: 2004-04-11 04:43 pm (UTC)Re: Oh, and I almost forgot...
Date: 2004-04-12 12:40 am (UTC)Re: Oh, and I almost forgot...
Date: 2004-04-13 11:07 am (UTC)One of the few History of Middle-earth books I have a copy of is War of the Jewels, and I'm glad I have it; the essay "Quendi and Eldar" is worth full price all by itself, to me, for its information on Valarin. It gives the full form of Nahar's name — Næhærra — and quotes Oromë saying his steed is so called "from the sound of his voice when he is eager to run". It also gives the original form of Oromë's name — Aromez (that o should be an &ocedil;, and would be if there were such a thing) — and notes it as the only instance of a Valar's proper name being known to material beings. Now you know, and knowing (as I like to say) is half the Mandatory Educational Content Segment™.
Re: Oh, and I almost forgot...
Date: 2004-04-13 12:03 pm (UTC)Re: Oh, and I almost forgot...
Date: 2004-04-14 09:04 am (UTC)Drive-By Diacritical Pedantry
Date: 2004-04-17 02:52 am (UTC)That and fifty cents will get you a lousy cup of coffee. ;)
-- Lorrie
no subject
Date: 2004-04-12 01:12 am (UTC)I'm tempted to draw for this; what does the robot look like? :)
Hmmm....
Date: 2004-04-12 06:16 am (UTC)