Legendarium [ Tolkien One-Shots ]

Wrath of the Sea

Tar-Míriel

Panicked screams kept her rooted in place. Wind whipped her dark hair into her face and even where she stood at the base of the Meneltarma, the sound of crashing waves filled her ears. Sobbing, she watched as the women and children of Elenna fell to their knees, begging to be spared from whatever wrath had come for them. Tears blurred her vision.

Helplessness gripped her heart, cold like the waters of the Bay of Eldalondë. She, Tar-Míriel Ar-Zimraphel, Queen of all the realm, could do nothing but watch the sea consume her people. The green grass would disappear. The great white towers would disappear. The havens would disappear.

Clouds darkened the sky above her. The Valar had come for them at last. Spitting rain hit her cheeks, like pricks of needles in the cold wrath of the wind. Her husband, her cousin had brought this upon them. Not for the first time, Tar-Míriel cursed him. Ar-Pharazôn. This had been his doing!

Tar-Míriel shied away as a pounding thunder filled the air. The earth groaned beneath her sandaled feet. Turning to the Holy Mountain, the queen choked back her tears. The heavens opened. The splashing of rain obscured her vision. But at the top, the summit of Meneltarma still glistened white.

She wasted no more time. With all her strength, she ripped the soaked grey dress she'd worn until the skirt came only to her knees. Then she fled.

Her feet pounded against the cobbled path. Broken trees, their flowers swept away in the storm's wrath, lay dead along the roadside. Statues to the gods lay in ruin. The torrent tore even the ground itself. Tar-Míriel couldn't think because of the cacophony around her. Instead she set her eyes on the summit and ran.

Sputtering against the freezing storm tearing at her face, the queen stumbled on. She spoke no word, made no cry. Even in her desperation, she bound herself to the vow of silence for any who ascended the mountain. Ar-Pharazôn may have abandoned the path of righteousness, but she would not. She did not look back.

The island groaned again, the land splitting. She could feel the earth moving, shuddering in the storm. Tar-Míriel wept, silently begging Lady Uinen to calm the wrath of the sea. But in her heart, she knew it was useless. Eru's justice came for the Númenóreans.

Tar-Míriel looked up. She saw the summit. It sat alone, silent. Her heart plummeted. The eagles had left. They'd been abandoned by the Ainur, as the Ainur had been abandoned by the Númenóreans. Her right foot slipped on the drenched rock as the ground moved. She screamed.

Sharp rocks stabbed her skin. Blood rushed down her leg. Choking on the wind, the rain, and her own tears, Tar-Míriel writhed on the ground. She looked back down the mountain. She saw only the grey-green sea. It had swallowed Elenna. She looked back up the path. A rock slide blocked her escape.

Frantically, Tar-Míriel tried to find handholds on the mountain side. She had to reach the summit. But her fingers slipped on the crag, cutting her smooth palms. She sobbed. Eru would not spare her.

Her eyes widened. The water had almost reached her feet. All around her she saw nothing but grey storm and tossing waves. Lightning split the sky. As the water washed away her blood, Tar-Míriel screamed for Lady Uinen. She begged to be spared.

A great wave, capped white with foam, towered over her. Tar-Míriel froze. She stopped her screaming. She squeezed her eyes tight. If the Valar would not rescue her, then she would die with all the pride she still held as a queen of the Númenóreans. Her body tensed. Not just a queen, but the last queen.