Through the Darkness Unescapable by Valiniel

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Chapter 13: The Deceiver

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The Deceiver

Armenelos

3265, Second Age

The queen sat on her throne beside her husband, her hands clenching the arm of the chair so hard that her knuckles were white. Before the court stood a tall figure, speaking words that would kindle pride in the hearts of the councilors present. Míriel only glared at the speaker, and when the speaker turned to her, she saw an equal hatred flare in his emerald eyes. The others in the court did not seem to notice how dangerous the words this man spoke could be. They eagerly hung on his every word, forgetting that he had once been their greatest enemy.

She had not forgotten. He was rightly named Sauron the Deceiver. It had been but three years since Pharazôn had brought him as a prisoner to Númenor. Three short years, and the snake already had the ear of the greater part of the royal court. It had started simply and innocently, when men were sent to interrogate the prisoner. Sauron had spoken to them of great lands that were now left vacant, and had shared some of his wisdom with his captors. When the men reported back to their king, Pharazôn had desired to learn more. His desire for power and glory had eaten away at his resolve to lock the Maia away to be forgotten. Míriel had watched as the king's ambition and his wisdom struggled with each other.

She had warned her husband not to pay heed to the words of the prisoner. Even after he ignored her the first time, she pressed him to listen to her words. Then she began to realize that her hold on him was slipping. Míriel could not offer Pharazôn power any more. He had only ever listened to her words if he thought they might bring him the power he desired. Even when she begged him not to give the prisoner a temporary release to teach some of his skills to the people of Númenor, Pharazôn had ignored her.

Now, there was a wolf among them, disguised for the moment, but ever perilous. His words were a greater weapon than all his minions and demons, and his words were beginning to crumble everything that she had done over the past ten years.

"You have a great army, my lord King: the mightiest this world has ever seen. It would be a pity to disband it so quickly." Sauron's voice invited everyone to trust in his wisdom, yet Míriel was not so easily fooled. She could see him try to work his will on those who held the power in Númenor. He turned and looked at the newly appointed Chief Advisor, who nodded in agreement with the Maia's words.

The chief advisor turned to Pharazôn. "He speaks the truth, my lord. You are King of Men. There are none now that can withstand your might. We must use our power to great effect."

"Why be satisfied with one great victory?" another advisor chimed in. "Surely the greatest of all Eärendil's heirs should have a larger empire than one small island!"

"Ah, but he no longer merely rules the island," the chief advisor replied to his colleague. "We have secured the southwestern coast of Middle-earth, and some of the land beyond." His words were in response to the advisor, but Míriel could tell that they were directed at the king. Pharazôn swelled with pride at his lackey's words.

It was disgusting, how they all fawned upon the king, speaking over and over again of his great victories and mighty heritage. Sauron had been the first to do so, and all followed him afterwards. All but one. Míriel looked over at the empty chair at the king's right hand. The Lords of Andunië had occupied that chair for many centuries, and now she feared that the next to take the seat would be Sauron himself.

The king finally spoke on the matter. "I agree that we should find some purpose for our army. Yet there is no current threat to our island, nor to our colonies.

"I agree, my lord King," Míriel was quick to interject. "There is no reason to press upon other shores. We should hold what we have against any possible attack."

"Do you agree that there is no threat?" Sauron asked her pointedly. "If so, then why would it be necessary to guard the colonies?"

"We cannot know what threats may come," she answered, seeing how she had been caught. "It is imperative that we not lose the ground we have won. It would be more costly to regain a territory than to defend it." She could see that a few of the advisors saw the wisdom in her words, but then Sauron continued to speak.

"If there are threats, then let us seek them out and eliminate them! Forgive me, my queen, but you are not giving thought to the vast world outside this isle, outside your colonies." He turned round, addressing all the advisors present. "I tell you now that there are vast lands beyond imagining in Middle-earth, and even to the west. Some are settled by only a few wanderers, others are open and full of opportunities. There is great wealth to be had in the world," he said, then turning to address the king directly, "but it will only come to those who seek it."

"Great wealth?" the financial advisor asked eagerly. "What kinds of wealth might be found?"

"Gold and silver, and many other things that cannot be found here on Númenor," Sauron told them. "There is mithril and adamant, great trees that can be fashioned into great ships, enough fertile land to support vast fields of grain… There is more on Middle-earth than you could ever dream. You could claim it all, and the glory of Númenor would rise, even above that of the West." Their pride could not resist such goading.

Sauron knew how strongly the King's Men desired to prove themselves greater than the elves, more mighty than even the immortal Valar. When offered power, these men would go to any lengths to achieve it. It was their greatest weakness, and Sauron played upon it as a bard would play the strings of a lyre.

Míriel watched her husband, observing the changes in his face and manner. At first, he had been somewhat cautious, but now he was being drawn in by Sauron's promises. Of all of those who sat in this hall, it was he who most desired power. She did not know what she could say to dissuade him. If he thought that this course of action would give him the glory and might that he wanted, then he would follow even the words of the evil Maia.

It was nearly an hour before Pharazôn dismissed his advisors and retired to his study. She did not return to their chambers, but instead left the palace. Her guard followed her closely through the busy streets, mumbling to himself about the strange ways of his queen. Pharazôn had relaxed the security he surrounded her with, but Míriel still found herself wishing she could have a moment of privacy. She vowed to find a way to gain a few moments of peace.

It was not far to the house of Anduni's lord, and she and her guard were admitted quickly, ushered in by two Faithful guards. Inside, servants were rushing about, packing up all the artifacts that had graced the house for so many years. It looked empty, devoid of the vibrant life it had once contained. In a short amount of time, one of the servants came to greet her.

"Queen Zimraphel, we are honored by your presence. Lord Amandil wishes to speak with you alone." The young man looked over at her guard. "Be assured that no harm will come to the queen under his lordship's watch." Her guard looked a bit skeptical of this, but Míriel turned to him and assumed the mantle of a monarch. Her voice was imperious and commanding as she gave him an order.

"I would speak with my kinsman alone. You have my word that I will return with you to the palace when I am finished." Before long her guard nodded, indicating that she could go. The servant led him to a small reception room where he could sit and wait for her, then returned to her.

"Come with me, my lady," he said simply.

"Thank you, Eärdur," she whispered to him. He smiled at her and nodded. The young man had been a faithful follower of the Lord of Andunië for several years now, one of the few brave enough to remain with Amandil after his fall from the king's favor. She knew that his family had been steadfast in their beliefs, proud to be numbered amongst the Faithful. There were still some who fear could not drive away. It always amazed her how resilient her people could be, even in the face of the new wave of persecution that had swept the isle.

The young man led Míriel to an empty room that had once been a foyer filled with art and furniture. She traced the wave patterns in the tile walls idly, remembering previous visits to this house. It had been a haven for her, even after her marriage. Now she was losing the last of her kin, and she would lose the small comfort that her uncle's presence gave her. She would be left to face a court and a husband that were slowly slipping away from her, left to combat a dark lord alone.

It was some time before Amandil descended the stairs, a weary look on his face. Never before had he looked so old. His hair was pale grey and his eyes were tired. She could feel his sorrow and disappointment as he looked down at her. This day was a grave and tragic one for the house of Andunië. "Tar-Míriel," he greeted, "I have the pleasure of welcoming the queen to this house for the last time."

"I wish it were not so," she said simply, "but we must accept what we cannot change." He embraced her, and for a moment, she was reminded of her father. When she was young, this simple gesture would have been enough to solve all of her problems. Now, it only reminded her of what she was about to lose.

"I am nearly ready to set out," Amandil told her, stepping away and indicating the stairs. "Before I go, I would speak with you upstairs." Míriel nodded, and the Lord of Andunië turned to Eärdur. "Can I trust you to take care of the remaining documents?" he asked the young man. The servant nodded, and left to attend to his lord's business. Míriel and Amandil went up the stairs and into Amandil's sitting room.

They went in and shut the door behind them so that none would overhear them. There was no furniture left in the room, no curtains on the windows, nor rugs on the floor. Amandil looked out the window for a moment, looking towards the west. "I am not returning to Andunië," he said simply. Startled, Míriel frowned.

"What has happened?"

"A messenger came today with an official order. My lands in Andunië have been taken from me." She had never expected something so drastic to occur. It was only at Sauron's insistence that Amandil had been ejected from the court. She had been sure that Pharazôn still held the old lord in high respect. After all, Amandil had openly defied Sauron and the rest of the king's counselors for three years, and Pharazôn still kept him as one of his chief advisors. She had to admit, however, that the king's patience had been wearing thin. More and more, it was Sauron who swayed his decisions.

For a man who prided himself on enforcing his will above all others, Pharazôn was being manipulated far too easily. Míriel suspected that the Maia had some darker power over the king than the power of mere persuasion. She could not name it, but she felt it lurking in the room when he was there, a tangible fear that grew within her mind. No matter what happened, she could not let the fear conquer her, she thought to herself. She was the only one who might be able to counteract Sauron's attempts to control the king. Even so, she had not been able to convince her husband that Amandil should stay in Armenelos. It was yet another of her many failures as queen.

"Where will you go, if not to Andunië?" she asked him.

"I shall settle in Rómenna. Elendil and his family will join me before long, as will other Faithful families. Andunië is no longer safe for them. There are many of our people who already live in the east, after they were forced to leave their homes during Ar-Gimilzôr's reign. The Faithful near Rómenna are safer than those who live in isolated communities that are slowly turning against them." He shook his head. "I would never have believed that the west would be taken by the King's Men. It was the last thing…"

"My grandfather's only intention in that order was to humiliate and harass the Faithful. He likely only did it to spite his wife." Míriel's voice was bitter. There had never been great love between her father's parents, especially after Inzilbêth left for Andustar with her eldest son. She had always felt sorry for her grandmother, but her grandmother had taught her something important. From an unhappy union had come one who would nearly redeem Númenor. Some good could come of even the most evil of deeds. The seeds of hope always remained.

At her comment, Amandil frowned. "Do you think Pharazôn means to spite you with his actions? It seems that he turns away from you more each day."

"It is not that he turns away from me, but that he listens more and more to Sauron. There was a time when I thought that I could use his love for me to protect our people, but I failed. I failed…"

"In a way, I am glad that he loves you," Amandil mumbled. "This way, he will let no harm come to you." She looked confused, and the old man tried to explain himself. "I do not trust Sauron. We know that he has not forgotten his humiliation at Tol-in-Gaurhoth. Long has he wished to destroy the Children of Lúthien. Now I must leave you here alone…"

"I can protect myself," she interjected. "I do not need anyone."

"You deserve to have someone there for you, even if you think you do not need them," Amandil told her gently. "Your family will always love you, and we will always try to protect you." He laughed a little. "You know how Elendil is. He wants nothing more than to secret you away to Pelargir." Míriel smiled slightly.

"He does not understand. I would never be safe, no matter where I went. It is better that I remain here." Thoughts of Pelargir and those who dwelt there filled her mind. Sorrow and joy filled her as she thought of days gone by and old regrets. Frustrated, Míriel tried to regain control. Both love and happiness were lost to her, and it would do her no good to imagine what might have been. She had to be content that her love was safe. It had to be enough.

Amandil only shook his head. "I wish there was some good news I could give you."

"Perhaps I could visit you in Rómenna for a time," the queen suggested. "I would not stay long, of course. Everywhere I go, I am followed. Sauron does not trust me any more than he trusts you."

"I can see why. You are right to be cautious. Only three years, and he already has an extensive network of spies and henchman all throughout the island." Míriel raised an eyebrow at that statement.

"I imagine it hardly rivals Celaurien's," she remarked. "But it worries me. Sauron is too persuasive. He is dangerous. The King's Men are volatile right now. I am doing all I can for the Faithful, but if our enemies have any motivation to lash out against us, I fear what the consequences may be."

"We can only wait and pray," sighed Amandil. "I will be praying for you most of all." He put his hand on her shoulder and turned towards the door. "We should go before your guard becomes suspicious."

"Of course." They left the room and went back down the stairs. Míriel regretted every step. She did not want to leave her uncle. Saying goodbye was too hard. It seemed like she always lost those she loved, but she remained. She would be the last to fade away, after everything she had ever known had been destroyed… Shaking her head, Míriel realized that she had let her mind wander. Focusing on the present, she tried to find the words to say farewell.

"I shall come to Rómenna as soon as I can. Send word to me and let me know if Elendil, Celaurien, and the boys arrive safely."

"I will," Amandil promised. "I'll have Celaurien write the letter herself." Míriel nodded, knowing that this meant only coded letters would be safe. "Never forget your family," he added softly.

"I will never forget any of you. You are all I have left."

"Not all…" Amandil said, with a quick glance towards the west. Míriel smiled. Yes, she still had her faith and her family. That was enough. It had to be enough. After one last embrace, Míriel sent for her guard and left the Lord's house. Everything was changing, now, and she had to endure.

She made her way up to her chamber to shed her robes of state and begin to think of a new strategy. It was her duty now to make the king see what madness it was to heed the words of a dark lord like Sauron. As she walked through the halls, a few people gave her a disdainful look as she passed. It made her wonder what the Maia had said of her, but she cared little. He could say what he would of her, and she would do the same for him. Her will was strong, and she would strive with him for control of this court. Tar-Palantir had not raised his daughter as a coward who shrunk from a challenge.

Her guard left her at her chamber, and she pushed through the door quietly, hoping not to disturb her husband if he was inside resting. When the door opened, she realized that he wasn't in the room. His study door was barely open, though, and she heard voices coming from the other room. She drew nearer the door, trying to make out the quiet words.

"If you desire a use for your army, then send them out to explore this world. For they might discover where this world ends, and where the Ancient Darkness begins." Sauron's voice was deep and persuasive. He was trying inspire curiosity in the king, and he was successful.

"The Ancient Darkness? What is it you speak of?" the king demanded. Míriel wondered if others were in the room, but it did not seem so. That meant that Sauron had been granted a private audience with the king. Pharazôn was more foolish than she had previously thought. What was the Maia's purpose in this? She listened carefully to the answer to her husband's question.

"I speak of the Ancient Darkness that has been forgotten. And out of it the world was made. For Darkness alone is worshipful, and the Lord thereof may yet make other worlds to be gifts to those that serve him, so that the increase of their power shall find no end." Míriel eyes widened, and her heart began to pound in her chest.

"No," she mouthed silently. "No. Pharazôn, please, please do not believe this madness. It is deceit and trickery. Oh please, Eru, do not let the king believe these words. Please…"

Her prayers did not avail her, and Pharazôn's words only made her more afraid. "Who is the Lord of Darkness?" She cursed the fool, knowing that he would not be able to resist the lure of such power. Yet there was still some chance. Perhaps she could make him see the trickery in the Maia's words. Míriel fiercely renewed her prayers.

Sauron answered the king's question eloquently, telling him dangerous lies that were masked as great wisdom. "It is he whose name is not now spoken; for the Valar have deceived you concerning him, putting forward the name of Eru, a phantom devised in the folly of their hearts, seeking to enchain Men in servitude to themselves. For they are the oracle of this Eru, which speaks only what they will. But he that is their master shall yet prevail, and he will deliver you from this phantom; and his name is Melkor, Lord of All. Giver of Freedom, and he shall make you stronger than they."

Melkor…. The name sounded sinister, and Míriel felt odd as she thought about it. It was almost familiar, as if she had seen it before, or heard it spoken of. Black foe of the world. The words came to her, but when she tried to remember them, they slipped away from her.

"I am not surprised that the Valar are trying to deceive us," she heard Pharazôn say. "They only wish to rule the world, but I will no longer be ruled. What must I do, Lord Sauron, to claim the world beyond the Ancient Darkness?"

"That you must ask Melkor," Sauron replied, and Míriel could hear how pleased with himself he was. "Pray to him, and your wish will be granted."

Míriel began to despair. The Maia knew too well what the king's weaknesses were, and he was too wise not to exploit them. A dangerous game was beginning. Míriel would strive to make the king see the truth, but she knew that every measure she took would be countered by her opponent. It would be a battle more fierce than any that could be fought with soldiers or ships, and what was at stake was more important than a piece of land. Sauron's words could tear the island apart, but she refused to let that happen.

"Eru, let me endure through this," she prayed silently. "Give me the strength to stand against him. I cannot help but feel that a terrible darkness is descending upon us. Have we not suffered enough? Please, Eru, have mercy on the Faithful." She paused, and closed her eyes, her heart heavy. "Have mercy on me."

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Chapter End Notes

 

Author's note: Much of Sauron and Pharazôn's conversation towards the end is taken directly from the Alkallabeth in the Silmarillion.