An Early Loremaster by Himring  

An Early Loremaster

There are some allusions here to other stories of mine set in the same 'verse. It should be possible to read and enjoy the story without picking up on any of these references.

Tegilbor was the first in his family within living memory who had fully learned the Tengwar. His father and mother, who could only recognize a few of the letters, were accordingly very proud of him. Tegilbor was among the first cohort to graduate from the school that Tar-Minyatur had set up to train future administrators and loremasters for Numenor. Their lessons, he remembered vividly, had begun in the open air, sitting cross-legged with their slates around their teacher, who perched in their middle on a rock, while gulls screeched in the background. There was a fine school building in Armenelos now. 

He and his fellow graduates were at general beck and call as secretaries and record-keepers at first, but already their strengths and interests were becoming evident and later they were able to pursue these more thoroughly. Tegilbor’s interest was in the past and in books and so, inevitably, he and others of similar bent were eventually claimed by Vardamir, the King’s eldest son—and happy to follow his summons, for it meant more learning of a sort not easily obtained elsewhere. 

Edhellos came over from Tol Eressea to talk to Vardamir and his circle about weather charts and use of the Elvish flashing glass; Galdor came to talk to them about the tongues of the Blessed Realm, how they differed among themselves and from the language of the Exiles. Those differences were something the older Edain had gained some inkling of, in the turmoils of the War of Wrath, but had not fully understood. Galdor could speak with more authority on the subject than those Noldorin survivors who had been born in Middle-earth. Tegilbor listened in wonder to Galdor reminisce about his studies in Valimar in his youth, when the Trees were still in bloom, and to his tales of Nevrast and Gondolin. Tegilbor filled a stack of booklets with scribbled notes, to be collated into a coherent account later.

‘I saw Pengolodh when Gondolin fell,’ said Galdor. ‘He had grabbed as many books as he could carry, bundled together in a ripped curtain, but of course a great many more books were lost that day and much of their contents never recovered!’ He sighed.

The Eldar, like Galdor, might deplore all the losses of Beleriand, not only of people, but also of Elvish knowledge of many kinds; Tegilbor, while sympathetic, was fascinated rather with how much Elvish history and tradition was nevertheless preserved, both in their long memories and in their writings. 

So much of the lore of his own people had been lost. His family had stories, but they were fragmentary and full of unanswered questions. It was not just that they were not written down. Stories and songs were indeed all very well, but among mortal Men they required passing on by word of mouth from generation to generation. And that chain of transmission had too often broken in Beleriand—battles and defeats, flights and displacement shattering communities and prematurely separating children from parents and grandparents, and worse—in Angband and in Dor-lomin—forced marriage, slavery, and targeted persecution. Tegilbor was partly of Beorian descent, he believed, but he could not be entirely sure.

There was Dirhavel’s great work, of course—the one towering exception—and it also had been saved by Pengolodh, who had gathered his mortal friend’s drafts after his violent death and carried them from Sirion to Lindon, re-compiled the epic and transcribed it. A magnificent copy that Pengolodh had gifted to Elros had pride of place in the growing royal library and now served as master copy of the Tale of the Children of Hurin for all Numenor. Tegilbor had quietly noticed that some of the fragments that the older generation recited from memory seem to reflect a different version or maybe more than one. What exactly had Dirhavel actually sung in Sirion? Impossible now to be sure, perhaps—and Tegilbor did not feel comfortable raising the question. Somehow it smacked of ingratitude.

With the rest of Vardamir’s circle, Tegilbor worked on preparing records of all the Elvish lore that was shared and also eagerly took part in the copying of any volumes on temporary loan by the Eldar. This particular volume he had in hand at present had apparently been brought to Vardamir by a Sinda, with no hints or explanation how they had come by it, except that it was from Beleriand. That left Tegilbor guessing. Working his way though, Tegilbor had observed how scribal hands, quality and consistency of writing material and formatting of pages kept changing, and tentatively concluded that this was not, originally, a single volume at all, but that someone back in Middle-earth had bound surviving fragments of several books from different sources together between those solid wooden boards for safe-keeping. The subject matter varied widely as well. It was tantalizing not to know what might come up next, but he had forbidden himself to take a peek ahead—focus on accurate copying first, leisure to re-read would come later!

He reached the end of a leaf. A detailed description of Nargothrond broke off mid-sentence, and the writer’s hand again changed noticeably. Tegilbor drew an elaborate paragraph sign and inserted a colophon with a date, explaining that no more of this text had been available at this time.

The next page started mid-sentence as well. Tegilbor read a couple of sentences to see whether a title immediately suggested itself or whether it would be best just to leave a blank space for now to return to later—and blinked. It seemed to be a description of a children’s game—and what is more a children’s game he recognized because it was a version of a game played in his village and that, with minor differences, he had played himself as a child.  He had been sure that was a Mannish game, had never imagined the Eldar playing it, too. But did they? The description surely sounded more as if it was destined for adults who had never played it as children. Curiosity won out, and Tegilbor abandoned his discipline, reading ahead for a clue who had written this down and for what purpose, until he reached the sentence: So said Amlach.

Amlach? Tegilbor had never head the name before, but it sounded more Hadorian to him than Elvish. Was this then, maybe an Elf writing down an explanation given him by ancient Edain? Reading on, the account now clearly revealed itself as a description of Edain customs. And again, each section of the account finished with: So said Amlach. This Amlach seemed to be the Elvish writer’s only source and witness… Tegilbor, totally immersed, went on reading, noting similarities and differences to Edainic traditions he had personally observed among his contemporaries. He cursed, uncharacteristically, when the text broke off again in the middle of a section, without revealing the name of the Elf who had decided to record all this information Amlach had given him or who Amlach was, when and where in Beleriand he had lived.

Tegilbor turned back to where he had left off writing, but sat still for a moment, looking at the page. Whoever these two were, they had taken the trouble to write these things down, as if they were as suitable a subject for writing as any Elvish lore. And it was not an epic, not even verse, not about a famous Elf Friend or any kind of hero at all. Tegilbor, there by himself at his desk, with a tattered volume from sunken Beleriand before him, quill in hand, decided this was an example for him to follow. Yes, Elvish lore was well worth writing down and he would, of course, continue to do so. However, he would also make a real effort to gather any Edainic lore he still could and record it in writing, here in Numenor, before even more was lost. 

That was a plan for the future. Meanwhile, with a will, he set to preserving the words of Amlach for future Numenorean readers…

Chapter End Notes

Tegilbor is a Sindarin name. Eldamo explains this word as follows: A term for one skilled in calligraphy (PM/318), a combination of tegil “pen” and the suffixal form -bor of paur “fist”.

Edhellos is Angrod's wife Eldalote, who survives the First Age in my 'verse. Her expertise with weather charts and with the "flashing glass" (an Elvish heliograph, naltalma, briefly discussed in NoME) is featured in a WIP of mine. (White Horn Tower, but the relevant sections are not posted yet) 

Galdor of the Tree's backstory in Valinor is featured in my ficlet "Fellow Students".  There is also a gimpse of the episode with Pengolodh here.

Amlach is the member of the House of Marach who joined Maedhros in Himring. It was Maedhros who originally wrote those notes down (in "An Intense Dislike of Elves"). What Tegilbor is reading is a fragment of a copy, not Maedhros's original notes.

Dirhavel (Dirhaval), author of The Children of Hurin (or the underlying epic) and Pengolodh, in-universe author of The Silmarillion, being friends is a minor fanon, but it is reasonable to think they at least knew each other.