Tianwen·Magweth Pengolodh

Already, slipped out without looking back.

Pengolod heard the door close, and listened with satisfaction to the child walking softly away.Then, before he could think again, he heard a rustling and a low cough, and the slight sound of another person's footsteps.Pengolod took a breath and forced himself not to turn away - the voice was coming from the wall behind him.

When there was no more sound but his own heartbeat, Pengolod turned around.Directly behind him is a tapestry depicting Uni in all her glory, surrounded by swans and dolphins.Pengolod lifted the tapestry and examined the walls.Between two smooth stone bricks there was a gap, not filled with plaster, as high as the eyes of an Elf or a tall Númenorean.He patted the wall and inserted a long note into the gap.The walls are thin, most likely hiding the space behind.Pengolod stood before the gap, letting the tapestry fall back in front of him.The fabric has been frayed into a veil through which the sharp-eyed can see.

Pengolod paced the suite angrily.There seemed to be no other lookout holes, and only the wall with the tapestry behind it was empty.But even so, every moment he spent in Armenelos turned sour, from the flattery of those young servants to his encounter with Tar-Minastiel--wouldn't even that be accidental, can you?Suddenly, his heart moved, thinking of Minas Tier's powerful son, Qiryatan.

Pengolod collected himself.If he was being watched, the watcher must have been fed up, because the behavior he saw was irreproachable.He didn't know what the other party's purpose was, but no matter who tried to catch him, it would be in vain.He knew what he was going to do next, and he was becoming more and more certain that his sojourn would soon be over.That would give him an indisputable reason to leave Armenelos for a second time.

traveler's wind

Pengolod returns to Romenna and finds his experience in Armenelos popular.He felt guilty about those enjoyments and experiences, but most of his listeners thought they were pure entertainment.He only told Elfwine about most of the situation, confessed that he had climbed Meneltamar Mountain in the middle of the night, and expressed his doubts—since he had talked with Tar-Minastir, been watched all the time.

"There are spies watching you—this is really like a drama set in the reign of Tal-Anarion." Alfwine commented at the time, "I agree with you, if there are spies, Most likely sent by Cirjatan. The explorer's guild scribe said that Cirjatan sent the explorer's guild leader to Lindon for a long time, almost usurping the leader's power."

"So you've been to the library of the Explorers' Guild?" Pengolod said. "What else did the Scribe say?"

"The last time I went, they were very excited. They didn't like to do the work that Cirjatan gave them, and they wanted the old master back. I-cough-cough-suggested that I was free to do it Such work. And they pay generously for their dignity." The elves and mortals laughed together."They're too good to be doing a tavern poster like this," says Alfwiner, and he holds out a copy.

Pengolod read: "Sailors who come to be kings—land and riches—Umbar recruits." He whispered, "Why choose Umbar when there are so many places in Middle-earth? It's too far south If the Númenóreans go there, Gil-Galad cannot be of any help."

"The Explorers' Guild say their trade in the port of Wenya Rondi is poor, and that Eriador's winter is cursed by warriors and sailors alike."

"It's not that bad," Pengolod said, thinking of the winter in Gondolin, "but Umbar is inhabited, just at the northern end of the Harad region. Once, a trading ship from Harad Sailed to Lindon for the famous iron of the North. Neither the Elvish artisans nor the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains took any interest in their goods. The Haradrians did not get as much as they wanted, and never came again."

"What did they bring?" asked Alfwine.

"Spices, silk, silver alloy, some dull gemstones," Pengolod said casually.

When Alfwine looked at the poster again, there was more respect in his eyes: "Spices? Silk? Silver? All of these, plus deep water berths... If the port is free, then Umbar sounds really good."

At this moment, though it was afternoon, Rosenzil came briskly in, happily throwing the empty basket at one side.As she moved the basket to her face, she saw Pengolod. "Oh, hello. Are you back?"

"This is the last period of my sojourn here," Pengolod replied, without asking why Rosenzil had come after the day's work.

"Then, the Traveler's Wind will take you from us," she said.This needs no explanation.Pengolod already knew that the dreary, windless summer was broken by a nice breeze, which meant that summer would soon begin to transition into autumn. "The wind came so early this year, it seems to be a cool summer!" Both she and Alfwine agreed that the hot season is very short, just one month. After hearing this, Pengolod couldn't help but rejoice that he chose to stay in this year. this.He felt like he was going to melt just by imagining what a normal Romana summer would be like.

Elfwine said to her: "You have come at the right time, and there is no news that you do not know. Have you ever heard of the men of Umbar, or the barbarians?" Indeed, the Losinziel had not. She didn't pass that kind of news, but Alfwine thought she had such authority, and gave her a cup of hot water, which made her smile and twist her waist.She was friendly to Pengolod, and she responded the same way when Tom came in stomping on his sandals after finishing his errands.It was a kind of kindness with a little anxiety, and it was a kindness that treated her lover's friends equally, for fear that they would not like her.

After she left, Pengolod and Alfwine talked late, about Pengolod's work in the royal library.Pengolod spoke of the question that troubled him, why mortals were flawed, and why their fates were so mysterious.Alfwine said solemnly: "You are right, I really want to know the answer like that. I often wonder if one of my ancestors was cursed by the sea, so my feet are wet because of it." Pain. Or worse, do my relatives in Middle-earth have inferior blood?"

"Inferior? What do you mean?" Pengolod asked. "In the land I left, mortals were plagued by plague, and the weather there was less blessed by the Valar, so they starved more often. Their arts are simpler and more primitive. But they are brave and resourceful men—even if some are not allies of the elves."

Alfwine opened his mouth, hesitant to speak.At last he whispered: "I do not know what I mean either. When men come to Númenor, even if their fathers are short and heavy, their children will be healthy and beautiful. But we still say so."

"Perhaps it is because you feel Arda's wounds, formed subconsciously," said Pengolod, "I know that the wounds of Morgoth affect mortals more than the elves. You have been troubled by this perception since your race first came into being."

Alfwine dismissed his statement: "Don't overindulge me. I'm more concerned with the shape of my pronated foot."

"Not all the damage is superficial. It doesn't just afflict mortals," Pengolod said.

Alfwine said kindly, "You're a good friend. You don't have to cut yourself down just to comfort me."

Pengolod was about to start speaking, when he heard this, he laughed, "You're here again, before I even spoke, you guessed my thoughts out of nowhere."

"There must be a time when you can beat you." Alfwine grinned, glad that he guessed right.

"It would be great if you could meet my teacher Rumir! Some of my other friends are also fine. You will definitely get along very well. You don't need to speak at all, just think about it." Pengolod thought of him and Tar-Minastir's short-lived sympathy was saddened.For an hour the king's mind was open, but that was no match for protective pride.

Meanwhile, Alfwine smiled before him, drawn to the thought of Pengolod with the same eagerness and amazement as when the two had first met.Now, it was Pengolod himself who flinched a little, to hide the sting—he remembered that their friendship was a few weeks from the end.

In the next few days, Pengolod found that his twilight routine was just right for friends to talk about love in the afternoon.He settled down again in the area of ​​Kingstown, and some people who used to look up and down came to say hello to him.He was alert at all times, but did not feel that he was being watched.Four days after he came back, in order to test this point, he even put on a show to attract people's attention.After the sun had set, he opened the shutters of the shop, lit a few candles, and sat writing in the halo, as if he were open to the curious.At the same time, he sprinkled the broken leaves, which had been baked crisp and dry by the summer heat, before the windows in front of and behind the shop, to expose any mortal footsteps.However, Pengolo