[Regin Hardhammer]

As he boarded the ship, Azarmanô breathed a deep sigh of relief. Finally, after all this time and all the dangers that he had faced, he was in Romenna, standing by one of Elendil’s vessels bound for the mainland. Their mission was now complete. They had saved Abârpânarú, now fully conscious, from being sacrificed on the altar of Sauron. It had not been an easy task, certainly with its share of near death experiences, but he could not have refused the mission for any reason in the world. That sense of duty came from the common bond that all of the Faithful shared with one another, one of trust and unity. The group never left anyone behind to be overtaken by the enemy. They could not spare a single man in the battle against Sauron. But for Azarmanô, there had been more in this mission than loyalty to the faithful. Azarmanô saw Abârpânarú not only as the leader of the Faithful but also a dear friend, one that he had known for a very long time. Azarmanô could not bear the thought of a person so dear to him being slaughtered by Sauron in Armenelos while he did nothing. No, he would never have refused, not even to remain with his family on the ships.

But what a joy it would be to see his loved ones again. Azarmanô had thought of them so often during his journey, he wondered if the actual meeting could ever live up to the image that he had created in his head. Especially when he had been in danger or was forced to do something difficult, like killing, the thought of his family waiting for him had provided both motivation and a soothing balm for pain. As he ascended the ramp of the ship, he wondered if they too had been thinking of him while he had been away. Would they still look the same as he remembered them before he boarded his ship? He knew that people could not change their appearances completely in a matter of weeks, but the time they had been separated felt so much longer. Seeing Inzillomí reunited with her husband made him yearn to see his own wife even more. Today, he hoped, he would get that chance.

At first, he could not find them amid the throng of people that were crammed into the ship. He searched frantically for them everywhere, wondering fearfully if he had boarded the wrong vessel. But finally, he spotted the pair from across the room, sitting in a corner. Night had come and Thoron’s head rested on his mother’s lap. Apprehensively, Azarmanô approached his family, who seemed at first not to notice him.

“Pardon me, my lady,” said he in an overly formal polite manner, “Is the seat next to you taken.”

Her face lit up like a beam radiating from the sun as it rises in the morning. She embraced him, kissed his cheek, and cried tears of both joy and relief. He returned the favor, remaining locked in her embrace, smiling profusely. He did not cry, though he felt just as happy and relieved on the inside as she displayed on the surface.

“Yes sir,” said she “I think we have room for one more. Please take care not to wake the child, for he needs the rest. He is my son, you know,” she added with a laugh. They both shared a fine appreciation for humor in unusual situations.

Yes, he was indeed glad to be back with his family. He felt as if an enormous burden had been taken away from him, as if he suddenly became much stronger. His heart, although leaping with mirth at seeing his son and wife, could not help but feel strained as the Island sank to the ground, rumbling and burning. He deeply pitied those people still on the ground, descending slowly into a watery grave at the bottom of the sea. If only there was some way to save them. But Azarmanô knew that there was hope now neither for Numenor, nor for the people still standing on it. And although he could not bring himself to forget his homeland, he must not allow all his thoughts to be haunted by its death. Although the age of Numenor was over, Azarmanô and the rest of the Faithful were entering a new time with fresh promise and opportunity. Just a few more moments and the ships would be on their way.

One thing which he could not forget was Kâthaanî. She seemed to be worsening as the trip wore on. Her parents worried over her limp body, unconscious but still breathing, and attempted to give her the best medical attention they could. Although they had begun to despair, Azarmanô had encouraged them not to give up hope. Kâthaanî was a strong girl, she had fought with bravery in battle, and she would fight with courage against death. Beyond lending her parents emotional support, there was not much assistance Azarmanô could give her. But every hour that Kâthaanî stayed alive on the boat was one more hour that she was fighting. As long as she never gave up, and Azarmanô prayed that she didn’t, her family could still cling to hope. One day, hopefully soon, she would wake up and look into the eyes of her suffering parents once more, telling them that she was all right. Maybe that day would be tomorrow, or maybe it would be in a week. But one day, he told himself emphatically, it would arrive, and they could all breathe a little easier.