Name (s) : Licumorner (‘the Black Candle’. )
Later taken epesse is Herumacil (‘master of swords’. ) – he gave himself this name.
Race : Noldor (Caliquendi)
Birthplace : Tirion-upon-Tuna
Date of birth : 1200 YT
Heritage : Eldest son of Begotten Tatyar. They remained in Aman, though his impressionable younger siblings followed him to Endor.
Halyanis is his younger sister, and Dalvar is their younger brother.
Appearance : Herumacil is tall and proud save for an unfortunate penchant for trying to dress up his appearance in order to match his peers. Those who are accustomed to Elves raised in true nobility will note he is lacking. He has dark hair like most Noldor, though he has seemed always to keep the length shorter than is normal for an Elf. This may be down to his vocation as a candle-maker, for the peril of keeping an abode lit up by many flames. The true fire though is in his eyes, for they are so deep brown they appear black. Gleaming though, especially when his temper is lit with a subject he is passionate about. It is for this reason he was first known as Licumorner.
Personality : Herumacil has always been an intelligent and passionate soul. He does not argue simply to have his voice heard, but because he believes in whatever he is campaigning for. He is the most dangerous kind of enemy, one who believes he is in the right. He is certain that he is making the world a better place, though many have disagreed. It has to be said that he is prone to thinking he has fared unfairly in life, and has sought to resolve this by whatever means necessary. Though it is worth mentioning that when Melkor was finding fun, playing with the minds and fears of the Noldor in Aman, he did not have to try very hard to convince Licumorner that he should not live a peaceful satisfied existence.
An opportunist, regretfully ruled by his envy and ambition, his reputation has made much of his racism; towards those kindreds of Eldar who are not as he. Whatever Melkor may have whispered to lead him upon this path may not have been terribly productive until he experienced a number of negative experiences with the Teleri, in particular. Afterwards, he housed no doubts that he had cause to distrust and despise those who thought other than he did.
Experience : Licumorner was the only child of two Begotten Tatyar who journeyed to Aman and there settled in the later Noldorin city. He suffered no early loss or tragedy to inspire his heart and knew a rather more mundane existence, which was his only hardship. His parents were both keen upon making things that they could use, so they founded a pottery to produce good plates, jugs, cups and bowls. They spent most of their free time chasing their son out of their customised fireroom (Kiln) which was a marvel of a thing to his mind, changing raw work into finished works of art. Most of the family’s craft gave rise to necessary, functional utensils, and even the fairest painted jugs and vases were passed on to other Noldor who would add their skill to transform the plain piece into a masterpiece.
Licumorner had always yearned to create something that no other could, and that no Elf (however talented) would be able to improve upon.
His fate though was not to conceive of such things as mighty as the Silmarilli. Still, he toyed with a pastime that set him apart from his kin; candlemaking. His earliest forays made good use of beeswax, and as time passed the Noldo experimented with the adding of seeds and of diluting the wax with vivid coloured dyes, harvested from flowers. His creations evolved in their shape, smell, hue and texture but it occurred to him that he ought devise a candle which would not be spent. A candle that might last forever ! It was to this ambitious and hard-minded young craftsman that Melkor came, with his promises of Godly blessings and celestial knowledge, the like of which had helped to bring the entire world into being.
Licumorner could not say no, and did not. Neither did he tell anyone about his new ‘mentor’ for it seemed pleasing to him that others believed he had worked such things out by himself. In truth it was the wayward Vala who directed Licumorner in the art of designing wax sculptures. Before long his work was a thing that many amazed to behold. Not only did he develop from plain ‘sticks’ of wax to elaborate designs, but he conjured vast sculptures wherein the wick would burn away, leading the shape to melt into another, and another, in due course. By this means, the light would last far longer than had any other candle he had ever heard of.
It came that even Sarnir Erondo, a noble if an unsociable one, heard of Licumorner’s abilities. And he put his mind toward gifting the candlemaker his patronage. Merely the rumour of such an alliance saw the potter’s son rise within social circles, and his name was on the lips of those he had never dared imagine. This was not a kindness on the part of Sarnir, but a selfish need of his own, for that Noldo despite all his affluence and wealth found himself enduring a dilemma. The aristocrat was a sculptor himself, a lord of stone in fact, who prided himself in being a worker of the hardest most adamant surfaces and a skilled artist at all that. His greatest legacy though was the son who should maintain the familial reputation.
Still young, Sarnirion was yet learning of his father’s craft and by way of not wasting expensive rock on practice, Sarnir had set his son to learn sculpting ice to start. This, he admitted to Licumorner had been a mistake. For the tutor of icesculpting had been privy to Sarnirion’s wish to be wed, and had aided him in forging rings of lasting engagement and marriage, to a young maid who Sarnir really did not approve of. For this grievous error of judgement, the sculptor of stone had declared that the ice sculptor should never again dare to influence his son.
This ice-sculpting craftress was an elleth who was not only the daughter of a famous quarrier, but also much favoured by a friend of the Teleri wife’s relations. For all that, she,
Vanisse Ellinilor had let Sarnir down, and he was not one to forgive, nor forget. Instead he proposed that Licumorner should teach the precocious youth how to sculpt with wax, before he should master stone. Wax after all was (like ice) able to melt down to nothing, and harden up again in a new shape, whereas rock was not so flexible.
And so Sarnir took Licumorner into employment, giving the other craftsman a glimpse of Noble living, and all he’d been missing out on. It was all that he had expected, and so much more. It was also the beginning of a new chapter of envy and ambition for the candlemaker. Sarnir, who had found little enjoyment in socialisation, grew to tolerate and become quite accustomed to the candlemaker. Licumorner was surprised to find that he did not despise the noble either, for all that he wished to be Sarnir’s match in advantages of birth, still the sculptor would have no ‘servants’ in his house, for he favoured privacy and would rather be left alone than followed around, waited on hand and foot. They could hold conversation irrespective of their differing class, and the fact that Sarnir’s wife had not been born to an ennobled life, but married into one, gave Licumorner a new line of thought to think upon. Sarnir had three sisters, after all, and who knew that he might find one of those three agreeable ?
The sculptor’s son was certainly not agreeable. Rather, aggrieved at his father’s unrelenting decision, Sarnirion deemed this new ‘tutor’ to be a punishment and demotion from his previous studies. He defiantly did his best to belittle Licumorner and embarrass him in front of his parent. The wax artist found the teaching difficult in light of this, and he might have despaired as the youth humiliated him in front of Sarnir’s much coveted sisters. But Melkor was ever ready to manipulate a mind ripe for ambition and so Licumorner soon found other means to prove he had a use for his new friends in high places. Melkor taught him how to do the most damage as he could master with a blade and, amused at recognising how Sarnir and his own brethren fell toward opposing sides in the royal debacle of Feanor vs Fingolfin, Melkor reasoned instead to widen the gap, and see brother fall to brother once again.
The once humble candlemaker found that he once more was possessed of a thing that his noble friend desired, and passed on what Melkor had instructed him, to Sarnir, so that the Noldor began to turn from want of making fine things, to the art of slaying any who he might imagine would endanger those fine things. In days of distrust, the two unlikely allies were soon bound by a mutual secret which tethered them together. Herumacil took in this time to using the epesse Herumacil, the master of swords; for that allowed word of what he could provide to Sarnir’s fine aristocratic friends, without ever his true identity being made public knowledge. At least until after Melkor murdered the Noldorin King Fingwe, and stole the famed Silmarilli ! Sarnir was swift to enlist with the host of Feanor; serving with all those who flocked unto his noble banner. In this he was simply one of countless, and served under the esteemed command of Prince Maedhros, son of Feanor himself. Herumacil, silent as to his own previous alignment with Melkor, stood as Sarnir’s second in battle. And when the noble sculptor of stone fell, at Alqualonde, it was Licumorner Herumacil who was faced with maintaining the remnant of his devastated unit.
Seizing up the slain noble’s protesting son, Herumacil ‘saved’ him, and saw them both to a nearby ship, which the rest of Sarnir’s folk heralded as a brave and righteous deed. They claimed him their champion, for Sarnirion was in no state nor of the mind to even look to lead them. Acting ‘in the boy’s self interest’ Herumacil encouraged the rightful successor to lose himself to grief, adding the opinion that the remainder of Sarnir’s collective would never follow his son, whose mother had been born of Alqualonde. ‘They look at you and they will never see your father. They will ever see only the likeness of those folk who killed your father’, he counselled the mourning son to realise.
When Sarnirion opposed this reasoning by the fact that Falmari could be just as useful as could Noldor to the cause, he could not help pointing out the presence of even King Olwe’s Nelya counsellor aboard the ship. It was in fact his – Nenmeldo’s – ship they had ‘stolen’. The Nelya had rather more welcomed them aboard in an effort to lure them away from further wrath upon his hometown, not to mention to make sure that his loved one (the rebellious ice-sculpting craftress !) was spared from vengeance on the bloodied shores. Not to be undone, or made to look a fool, Herumacil took up arms against their Nelya saviour by making his fellow Noldor, Nenloico and Rincion, aware of Nenmeldo’s presence on the ship.
‘A stowaway and a saboteur !’ was his fierce accusation, after which he was complicent in the Nelya being thrown into the sea. Sarnirion did not oppose the deed at this point, especially after Herumacil applauded him for identifying the ‘traitor’. There was little he could do about a thing already done, but warily he stayed close to Vanisse Ellinilor for the rest of the journey. Herumacil on the other hand, fell in thick with Nenloico in particular, finding him to be of a much similar mind and great support, in his works to be taken seriously as Sarnir’s replacement.
When they landed upon Endor, Herumacil was aghast to learn that Nenmeldo had been spared the drowning that ought to have been his fate. Maglor called an inquiry, at which Sarnirion had by now recovered enough of his angst after watching Herumacil usurp all of Sarnir’s forces, to condemn the Candlemaker and his friends for trying to murder the Nelya. His claim was taken rather less seriously when both Nenmeldo and Ellinilor refused to name the culprits, and Herumacil pointed out that the ‘witness child’ was griefstricken, far from his right mind, and had in fact been the first to express his ‘concern’ at one of Olwe’s people aboard the ship at the start. For his part, Nenloico did not refute the allegation against himself, boldly declared he would do it again if it meant safeguarding the rest of those aboard from a known traitor in their midst, and proudly accredited himself all of the blame. This spared Herumacil who, being some lesser born than all those other, would have found himself with less cause to be heard or offered leniency. Soon after, the call came to put the ships all to flame. And as Ellinilor sought to placate the horrified Nenmeldo, Herumacil threw the first torch with great purpose and no hesitation at the Nelya’s ship. He and Nenloico celebrated heartily for getting away with ‘attempted’ murder, for the only penance had been for the three conspirators to be cast to serve separate leaders, far apart, that they should come not together again to cause further harm to the Teler.
The blazing ships at lossoth had attracted the enemy, and the battle under stars commenced, a two-edged but decisive victory for the Feanorien invaders. For all that they pressed advantage, urged on beyond wisdom, and saw their king fall for all his ardour. Elves the like of Erindan Mordagnir, a mere merchant in Tirion, was hereby ennobled for his partaking in that almighty conflict. But for all that Herumacil had fought just as fiercely, keeping his small gathering together and alive, he was never officially recognised for this achievement. Nenmeldo meanwhile, although he was injured in the battle, was afterwards celebrated as a hero for his very survival, and named now Earenolwe – the wisdom of the Sea. Gifted the post of counsellor to King Maglor, much praise and generosity was heaped in his general direction. Sarnir’s followers had by this point accepted Herumacil as their new leader, seeing as he’d earned the right in battle, which had proven far more effective a move than simply heaping mass derogatory insults upon all competitors. Which had been his previous campaign.
Which was not to say that he refrained from seeking to undo his antagonists now at every turn. One small favour had come Herumacil’s way since the battle under stars. An opportunist spear maiden named Balcheth, had pledged herself unto his service. Seeing as the new captain was always aware that the rest of his unit had settled for him, rather than had chose him, he was proud to accept his first true conscript. Though he never allowed her to recognise the depth of his relief ! Some small satisfaction was gained in commanding power over the new recruit, and testing how true she really was to his own personal cause. It might be argued that this was doubting faith, or rather perhaps forcing her to run the same rite of passage he had done himself. She was the only other soldier under his command who was not of noble birth, so in that he found a comfort, and enjoyed the mastery of a hard won hierachy. Maybe she duely recognised it in him and would be motivated to climb her own social ladder accordingly. But meantime, Herumacil amused himself by setting the girl and Sarnirion against one another.
The latter had taken the loss of their king, and his successor very hard. He was even more prone to sulking for the loss of his lover and his friends who had been abandoned when the ships left Alqualonde. The sight of Herumacil ‘lording it up’ was the final insult, and an enmity was nurtured between them which put even their hostile relationship in Tirion to shame. In open retaliation to Herumacil and his flaunting favour of Balcheth, Sarnirion struck back in the only way he knew. By turning to Earenolwe and flaunting this friendship in his new supervisor's face. Since that first and fateful battle, the Noldor were rendered to a stalemate by their foe and, with Maedhros presumed lost for good, Maglor took up in his acting stead to keep the peace between his other, bickering brethren, until the matter could be (somehow, though they knew not how) resolved. Herumacil never ceased in seeking to persuade folk that the reason Maglor delayed in some action to rescue Maedhros was because his treacherous counsellor saw to it. The more that Sarnirion found comfort in and sided with Earenolwe, the more Licumorner sought to convince all and any that the Nelya was still seeking to ruin their cause and every which motive in Endor, as vengeance.
It was thankfully not too long before Fingolfin and Finrod arrived in the wake of their ship-stealing kin, providing much required reinforcements. Fingon son of Fingolfin was the one who rescued Meedhros his cousin, and put right the bad feeling between the two estranged parties of Noldor. It was not very long after that when Sarnirion learnt that his lover was in fact not slaughtered on the beach of Alqualonde as he had feared, but instead alive, and in the camp of Fingolfin’s host ! It was little time at all before the youth begged Maedhros for a transfer unto the army of Fingon. He did not tell Herumacil of his intent and did not look back, although he might have done so, to express regret in leaving his friendship … with Earenolwe.
Herumacil was not sorry to see the back of the ward he had never wanted, and was glad to know that his own troops were just as keen to fight for him as they had been since he had led them under stars. He no longer required the charade of acting regent for Sarnir’s son. He was In command of his own force and proud of it, with Balcheth as his most devout and diligent soldier, he made her his personal bodyguard, and endowed upon her all the luxuries which Sarnirion had walked away from.
It ought to have made sense for Herumacil to also depart from the halls of Maglor, and be free of that king’s long memory, much less the vicinity of Earenolwe. It was pride though as much as passion which kept the dark candle in the host of two great elves he knew despised him. He could not deign to return to service of Maedhros, not after that King had relinquished the high crown to Fingolfin ! He could not either bear to be thought of as slinking or fleeing to an easier life. He had made much of how dangerous a traitor Earenolwe was, and how susceptible Maglor was to the influence of the detested Nelyar. Now he resolved to never rest until he had turned Maglor against Earenolwe. That, he deemed, would be not only just, but also a great deed for all those who cared for the true cause of the Noldor in Endor.
Centuries though fell away as the siege of Angband tarried on, and Herumacil was no closer to his most ambitious ambition. At every turn it seemed that he was bested by those he despised. And then unexpectedly, Earenolwe departed the royal court, travelling in search of that now errant Noldorin maiden he’d journeyed all this way to love. Finally devoid of petty disputes and rivalries, Herumacil afforded much time and effort in the courting of King Maglor’s favour. But the royal Noldo did not forget the part Herumacil had played in attempted murder, and he trusted him not.
When Finrod Felagund uncovered the existence of Menkind in Beleriand, Herumacil could not help but remind his king of the perils Melkor had lectured so many about, back in Aman. This harkening of his opinion to match the abhorred foe was not the best decision he ever made, and in seeking to mend damage done, the dark candle declared his intent to go and meet with the Mortals, on Maglor’s behalf; lest the likes of Fingolfin and Finrod recruit the secondborn to their hosts, and improve upon the size which might well one day turn upon the true Feanorien element.
Not only was Herumacil taken off guard by the arrival of Sarnirion, representing Fingon’s interest in Mortals, but Earenolwe against all odds managed to return in due time to convince Maglor himself to attend the mortal meet at Estolad, for fear that Herumacil and Balcheth would else not conduct themselves well as sole representatives of their King.
Herumacil’s efforts to be taken seriously continued to be thwarted at every turn. Nenloico was murdered after a brawl in a Falathrim tavern. Rincion’s undefeated fortress was bitterly accosted by the enemy. The entire north was devastated by the emergence of Melkor’s dragons, which laid waste to Ard-Galen. Things were not going the way of Licumorner Herumacil. And neither did the battle of Nirnaeth Arnoediad. Betrayed by the Easterlings, the union of Maedhros came to nothing but tears, and for all the ferocity demonstrated by the once mere candlemaker, Herumacil was betrayed by his own self-preserving renegade Balcheth. Melkor found mocking entertainment in keeping the forlorn Noldo alive, to bemoan his foolishness in ever trusting of ambition. He was left to rot in the thrall holdings of Angband, to endure the misery of abject failure with the weight of acknowledging just what a fool he had been … to have come so far and ‘accomplished’ so much, that could be accredited to the great foe of all Elfkind.
Herumacil was not of a character to suffer this willingly, so he informed Solchon and other fellow thralls that some of the Elves who had previously been 'killed in efforts to escape' had in fact managed to get out, and return to their people in Beleriand. This was surprising and uplifting news to all those who believed the charismatic Noldo. Efforts to wage their own escape however were short lived and but another example of the Enemy’s cruel malice, for Melkor allowed the flight to come almost to it’s conclusion, before slamming the iron doors down upon that dare to hope. All of those fifty Elves who had been so foolish to heed Herumacil and his plan to fly .. were slaughtered. The likes of Solchon having endured patiently and with faith for redemption for hundreds of years, before giving in to reckless abandon at Herumacil's word.
Their executions were not a slow or subtle affair, the miscreants of Melkor took their time and delight in savouring the carnage. After that no Elf broke words with the dark candle again, on pain of death for fifty others. Such was the means of recalling the heart-breaking defeat. Broken, alone, and blazing in his own dark light under the earth for countless years, Licumorner Herumacil was not granted a reprieve from his suffering until the War of Wrath was come to conclusion. In the wake of the second defeat of Melkor, by the Valar and a host of Elves from Aman, it was Sarnir’s Falathrim widow who ventured into the depths of what had once been Angband. Seeking for the fate of her son, she found instead the wreckage of Herumacil, and for the sake of her husband who had favoured the once candlemaker, and for the sake of her son, who might share the thrall’s condition, or worse, Menellote Silosse brought the battered husk of Licumorner back into the sunlight.
Sad it is that he now can not bear for long the bright glare of fine sun, nor the pity of those he once would have belittled himself. His mind cast to tatters from the years of degradation and misery, Herumacil is of unclear understanding. He dwells in the serenity of Silosse’s lowest chambers, where he can make candles for his rehabilitation of the soul he would reclaim. Much of the time he believes himself to be the prisoner of guilt, and of the Teleri of Alqualonde; a misguided confusion which Silosse does her best to redress. And (when they visit on rare occasions) Sarnirion and Earenolwe do their best to encourage …
For the memories of Elves are long and those wronged by the once arrogance of Herumacil do not overlook the fact that he in fact recalls all, with startling clarity, his grievous senility an act by which he allows all those he once wished to recognise him for what he could be, to now underestimate what he remains.