Through the Darkness Unescapable by Valiniel

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Chapter 4: The Game

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The Game

Andunië

3255, Second Age

They waited at the gate of the estate to greet Pharazôn. His ship had already docked in the harbor, and the captain had sent word that he would meet his kinsman at their home. Míriel waited nervously, wondering what news would come with him, and if it would be as unwelcome as her cousin was. He had long been away on a campaign to defeat pirates that had been preying on Numenorean ships sailing to their havens in the east. Now he was returning, for better or worse. She stood next to Elendil and Amandil, wishing that all this could just be over with.

Pharazôn and his party came into view at last, marching up from the harbor. The son of Gimilkhâd led the crowd, striding towards them with a winning smile on his face. He was arrayed in red and gold, looking more like a prince than a captain, much to Míriel's disgust. Pharazôn exuded arrogance with every step, every smile, every word he spoke to his followers and to the people who had come to watch his approach. Many people loved him, for he was a charming man. The ladies of the court certainly admired him, always remarking on how handsome he was and how they could hardly believe that he had not yet chosen a wife.

His kinswoman was not deceived. She saw the truth in his cold grey eyes. She saw the cruelty and greed that lay behind them. Elendil stood next to her, probably as uncomfortable as she was right now. The entourage drew close to them, stopping just before the gates. Pharazôn spoke as soon as he stood before Amandil, with a slight bow in the traditional Numenorean fashion. "Lord Amandil of Andunië! I return in triumph, with both news and gifts."

"Welcome home, Captain Pharazôn," Amandil greeted him, bowing in turn. "I would be honored if you would take the midday meal with us."

"The honor would be mine," the captain replied, with the smoothness of a practiced diplomat. Then his attention turned to Míriel. She met his gaze with equal coolness, a look of forced decorum. He spoke first, after what seemed to be a rather awkward silence. "It is a pleasure to see you here, Míriel," Pharazôn told her honestly. "I heard you and your father were in Andunië upon my arrival. Therefore, I decided that the best course of action would be to come and announce my victory to Númenor's king and crown princess in person." She nodded civilly, not wanting to have to say any more than necessary.

Elendil came to her rescue, cutting in on the conversation. "If you would pardon my interruption, Captain, dinner is prepared for us in the house. I do believe that you have eaten cold food enough over the last few days."

"Of course, Elendil," Pharazôn replied, using the man's first name in as disrespectful a tone as he could, daring him to make some sign of disapproval. Elendil made none, and headed back to the house. Míriel was about to follow him back when Pharazôn offered her his arm. Amandil, seeing this, went ahead to join his son and lead the way. Forced to accept his offer, she reluctantly tucked her arm in his. As she did so, he signaled for a servant to follow him with other trunks and treasures and they made their way up the paved path that led to the manor.

"You arrival is quite a surprise, Cousin," she said neutrally, trying to make conversation. "I had not expected you back so soon." If I had, she thought, I never would have left Armenelos. She hadn't expected him to return until midsummer, by which time she had planned to be safely back in the capital and rallying her political allies. Armenelos was open and vulnerable, and she was thankful he had not chosen to go there first. She could not afford to lose all the small victories she had won over the King's Men since his departure.

"No, I suppose my coming was rather unexpected. Our victory over the pirates was swift, though, and I wanted to return to Númenor as soon as possible. I hope you are pleased, Princess, I know how strongly you advocated the defeat of the pirates and the protection of our ports on Middle-earth." By the tone of his voice, it seemed to her that he realized the truth. His king had given him the official command, but Míriel had been behind the proposal. It was not banishment, but close enough for her purposes. When the leader of Númenor's fleet complained of pirates, she had suggested that Pharazôn be sent to lead the foray against them. At that point, she had desperately wanted him off the island so the King's Men would be left leaderless, less organized, and thus cause less harm. She should have known he would know her motives.

Míriel looked over at her cousin and forced a smile. "It is my duty to keep my people safe. I will do what I must to achieve that end." If he noticed the implied threat in that statement, he made no sign of it. They simply continued on to the house. Elendil opened the great door and walked over to stand by his wife and sons, who were standing just inside.

Lady Celaurien of Andunië was the picture of a perfect hostess. She was robed in a fine blue gown, and her golden hair was pinned up practically but not artistically. Given the short notice, she looked completely elegant and at ease. Míriel wished she had the younger woman's gift of always seeming at ease, no matter the situation. "Welcome to our home, Captain Pharazôn," Celaurien greeted pleasantly.

"It is an honor to be invited to dine with you, my lady," he told her in his most courteous manner.

"Then honor us further by staying here during your time in Andunië," she replied instantly. Her smile was dazzling, ever the perfect hostess. Everyone who met her praised her as a sweet, generous woman. Those who really knew her knew better than to be deceived by appearances. Celaurien could be fiercer than a summer storm when crossed and was as talented at espionage as she was at diplomacy. Pharazôn was taken in, accepting her offer with many thanks and complimenting her on her excellent hospitality and generosity. After listening, Celaurien glanced around quickly, finally meeting Míriel's eyes. Then she spoke again.

"Princess Míriel, I must speak with you right away. Dinner will begin in a few minutes, and I need you to help make some of the final preparations. I mean not to steal you from your cousin's company so soon, but…" Míriel had no doubt of what preparations Celaurien was speaking of. Elendil's men had returned to the house while the main party was waiting at the gates. Pharazôn no doubt thought they needed to discuss domestic matters. He, like too many others, underestimated Elendil's wife. Míriel was glad of it. Celaurien could not be a great captain of men or command a ship, but her role was no less valuable to the Faithful.

Míriel pulled her arm away from Pharazôn, relief sweeping through her. Her cousin simply smiled at her and nodded slightly, in mockery of a formal bow. "Perhaps after dining we could have a quiet conversation of our own where we will not be interrupted. I have something for you." There was something unrecognizably odd about his tone. Her brow furrowed and she nodded.

"Of course," she managed, awkwardly backing away from him. Amandil came and engaged Pharazôn in conversation as she did, and she slipped away after Celaurien. They walked towards the kitchens in silence. When they came to the door of a small storage room, Celaurien opened it and beckoned her to go inside. The little room was filled with silver platters and dishes, but was wide enough for both women to be in without bumping into each other. The golden haired woman entered after Míriel and shut the door behind her.

"I thought you might appreciate a chance to escape your cousin's company," Celaurien whispered, her low voice barely audible. Míriel nodded as the other woman reached for a platter on the highest shelf. She retrieved the platter with ease: Elendil's wife was only six inches lacking of her husband's height.

"Have Elendil's men returned with news?" Míriel wondered.

"Pharazôn is here to boast of his victory and to spite us," came the immediate reply. "At least, that is what his sailors believe. In truth, they came straight here from Rómenna."

"I do not understand why. He should have gone to the capital in my absence and taken up his command of the King's Men again. Yet he came here instead. Why? Do they know why he came by sea and not on the road through Armenelos?"

"For pride and display," was her answer. "He wanted to make a grand show of it to raise support for his people in Andustar, and sailing in on a grand ship full of treasure was the biggest spectacle he could arrange. We must be thankful he has made a mistake this time."

"How long will he stay with us?"

"His formal answer is a week, but the men say he is preparing to leave in two days. When he arrived in Rómenna, he was told that you and your father planned to be away for another month. So he is not as unwise as we suppose him to be. He is planning to return to Armenelos and reorganize the King's Men." That was the bad news Míriel had been waiting for.

"We had best return with this platter," she muttered. "People will wonder where we are." Celaurien agreed, and they left the little storage room and headed to the kitchens to deliver the dish. Míriel was still thinking about the report and trying to sort everything out in her mind. Her plans had been fragmented by Pharazôn's arrival, and she desperately needed time to think.

All through the meal, Míriel was preoccupied with her plans. Amandil held Pharazôn's attention through most of the meal as they discussed the campaign against the pirates. Elendil and his sons managed to maintain civility, and she knew that they were eager to plan their next move as well. It was almost comical, how courteous a meal it seemed to be. On the surface, it was a sedate dinner between distant kinsmen. Inside, each side was planning the other's downfall and struggling to keep up the appearance of being friendly and polite. It would be comical were it not the game she had been playing all her life.

At long last, the meal came to an end, and all stood up from the table. Amandil told Pharazôn that he could now have time to settle in to his new apartments. The captain nodded and thanked both host and hostess for their generosity and kindness. Then they were free to depart, and Míriel quickly hurried out, hoping to have more time to think on her plans to counter Pharazôn. The Lord of Andunië and his family escaped the hall first, leaving their cousin behind them. Then she heard the captain's voice from behind her.

"Míriel," Pharazôn whispered to her as they left the dining hall, "come with me." Confusion knit her brow, and she demanded what he wanted of her, perhaps a bit more sharply than she had intended. Inside, she was frustrated with herself for slipping and losing her courteous façade. Her cousin did not seem to mind her reply. "I have something for you." There was no choice but to follow him as he set off, and so she did.

He led her away, down a long hall. No one seemed to notice they were leaving. They might worry when she did not come to discuss things with Celaurien, but it wouldn't take long to deal with her cousin and return to more important preparations. She followed him to a small room that served as a sitting room for receiving guests. The midday sun illuminated it, casting lines across the floor as it shone between the window frames. Míriel turned to Pharazôn as he shut the door, wondering what he wanted.

Perhaps he wanted to make a political bargain. Did he really think she would compromise with one of the King's Men? Surely not- Pharazôn was intelligent and on occasion, even insightful. He was no idiot. Yet even as she wracked her brain for answers, she could think of nothing else he would need a private audience to offer her.

"Míriel," he repeated, breaking the silence. "It has been long indeed since last we spoke."

"Not long enough," she wanted to reply, but with great effort held her tongue. "It has, Cousin," the princess replied instead. "It has been a great many years. Yet the years have been kind to you." A compliment. It was not so difficult. Indeed, the years had been kind to her confident cousin. He had grown stronger, both physically and politically. Pharazôn had risen to the height of his charisma: his appearance youthful, yet possessing the craftiness that came with experience. Other women might sigh over him, but his kinswoman knew the truth. She could see it in his eyes: those cold, cruel grey eyes that were like daggers tearing through her to where she was most vulnerable.

Míriel would not hold his gaze long and looked away casually. He seemed not to have noticed the long moments that had passed and spoke as if that awkward time had not existed. Sauntering away from the door and towards where she stood, he answered her. "Not any kinder than they have been to you. Your wisdom becomes you, and the beauty of Lúthien has not dimmed in you, only grown more brilliant." Suddenly, Míriel began to feel uncomfortable. Why did he bother giving her such compliments when there was no audience to deceive? She hardly knew how to respond to him anymore. Confusion set in, a feeling she liked not at all. Míriel was dealing with dangerous and delicate negotiations here; she could not afford to be taken aback.

"What is it you have for me?" she finally managed. Hopefully this would not take long. Suddenly, she had a deep desire to be away from him.

"I have something for you, but also something to say. You must admit, there are few words between us now." He spoke the obvious truth. Since his father's death, they had not spoken. Twelve years she had avoided her cousin, and now she was forced to deal with him directly. Perhaps she had fallen out of practice. There was too much on her mind, and she grew weary of speaking carefully.

"Did you expect many words between us Pharazôn? You have been busy among your people, making me busy among mine." He never lost his calm despite her accusation.

"I have been busy, indeed, at the decree of the crown," he replied. "Please, I do not wish for this to be a battle of wills, Míriel. Why must we always quarrel when left alone to speak?" He said it honestly enough, but it made her want to laugh at him in a way. Why indeed!

"You know why." Her voice was quiet, rebuking him for even asking the question. How could he expect her to treat him as a beloved cousin when he was leading the party of men that had killed her mother, driven her father to despair, and kept her from being wed for fear that her husband would suffer the same fate as her mother? She feared what he could persuade his people to do. In her mind, all his crimes were unforgivable.

"Let us put aside all our arguments for now," he asked her. She consented at last, still not understanding why Pharazôn was in such an odd temper today. Could his campaign in Middle-earth have altered him so? No… She had heard of his plans to rally the King's Men again. He had not changed. Or perhaps he had- the look in his eyes was different now. He was looking at her now not at all as an opponent or obstacle to be overcome, but rather as an ally.

"What is it you had for me?"

"A peace offering," he replied and reached into his pocket. She did not understand, although she struggled to think of what he could be talking about. Peace offering? What kind of peace offering would he give to her? She had her answer soon enough. Pharazôn drew out a silvery chain; on the end of it was one of the most exquisite pendants she had ever seen. It was a marriage of mithril and adamant in the shape of a swan. The workmanship was so delicate that every feather was visible. Each gem caught the light of the sun and they all gleamed like a thousand brilliantly colored flames. For a moment, she was lost, just staring at it in wonder.

"Where did you find such a masterpiece?" she marveled. In the royal coffers, there were few jewels so fine as this. Tales of the jewel smiths of Eregion and their skill with such pieces had come even to Númenor. Seeing this, Míriel was almost sure that it must have had its origin there. But surely Pharazôn would not seek for her an elvish artifact…

"It was among the treasures the pirates had stolen," he explained. Perhaps he did not know of its origin, then. Still, it was amazing to see such a thing. The captain continued his narrative. "When we took account of all the treasure, this stood out like a star amidst the heavens, and so I claimed it."

"But…" she stammered, "Why do you offer it to me so?" It was not unusual for a victorious captain to present a gift to his liege, but not in this fashion. He should have presented it to her with flourish and falsity in Armenelos or even in the main hall here in Andunië. Why? She must know.

"I wanted to give it to you, because I thought it a fitting tribute to you. As Lúthien Tinúviel had the Nauglamir, so shall you have a gem worthy of you, Míriel Alqualien." For one who hated the elven tongue, the names flowed like gentle music from him. Few had called her by that nickname since she had taken up her father's duties years ago.

"Lúthien's life burned away under the brightness of the Silmaril. Would you have mine do so?" She attempted to draw out some deeper meaning behind the gift with her questions, but Pharazôn hardly looked fazed at any of her responses.

"Never. You are not a light burning too bright, but rather as the jewel you are named for, enduringly brilliant." Polite answer though it was, Míriel still was not satisfied.

"Enough flattery, Pharazôn," she commanded. "Why?"

"Because it is lovely, and it will look lovely on one who will wear it with the grace and majesty it deserves," he answered, ignoring her command. "Besides, I wanted to improve relations between us. Your father is dying. You will be queen soon enough…"

"What do you know of it?" He had found a vulnerable point within her, and the wound now lay exposed and raw. She should have been silent, but in that moment, he became the object of all her frustrations. "My father is too young to die. He would not be ailing if he were not so troubled by the King's Men. Even if he is sick, it does not mean that he is weak. If you think you can take advantage of us, you are gravely mistaken. I am still strong, and I will not…"

"Calm yourself, Míriel. You misunderstand me," Pharazôn attempted. "I meant no offense towards you or the King."

"Then what do you mean, Pharazôn?" She was beginning to tremble, with an emotion she knew not. Was it fear for her father, fear for herself, fear of Pharazôn? Or was it anger: at her cousin, her situation, how helpless she was change anything? Perhaps it was everything at once, but no matter what it was, she could not longer maintain her composure.

Her hands clenched at her sides so tightly that her fingernails cut into her palms. Quickly, Pharazôn moved directly in front of her and took on of her shaking hands, pressing it flat and leaving the necklace in it. "Believe that I have spoken no falsehoods. I came to speak of alliances, but now is not the time, I see." He turned and started back towards the door.

Míriel looked down at the delicate swan in her shaking hand. Was it in him to make peace with one of the Faithful? Most likely it was only an attempt to wrest more power from her. Still, there was a note of sincerity in his voice. He was not trying to deceive her. That was why she didn't understand. It was imperative that she know what alliance he wanted, and deal with it quickly, no matter how shaken she was.

"Thank you for your gift, cousin," she managed. He stopped and turned to listen to her. "As to this alliance, speak and I will listen." As she spoke, he walked back towards her, standing directly before her.

"Here." He took the necklace from her still trembling hands. Pharazôn unclasped the chain and brushed back her hair to fasten it. Míriel stood there stunned and confused, not sure of what to say or do. The clasp snapped shut and Pharazôn pulled his hands back, resting them on her shoulders. He looked at her strangely, his grey eyes so cold and cutting. "Míriel," he began to say…

"Tar-Palantir, king of Númenor," announced a voice in the hallway. Míriel took a step back from her cousin as the door swung open. The aging king went toward his daughter with the blind concern of a parent. Amandil, Elendil, and Celaurien were close behind, and the herald announced them as well. Fortunately for them all, the Lord of Andunië smoothed things over.

"We have been looking for you, Princess, Captain Pharazôn. The king is recently returned from Oromet and wishes to speak with you both." Míriel just stood silently by her father, still quavering slightly. Tar-Palantir clasped his daughter's unclenched hand for reassurance. Meanwhile, Pharazôn delivered a short explanation.

First he bowed to the king. "My apologies for not presenting myself sooner. No doubt Lord Amandil has conveyed news of the battle?" Palantir nodded and gestured for him to continue. "I was informed that you were out, so I took the liberty of presenting my tribute to the crown princess at this time." All eyes went to Míriel and quickly settled on the sparkling pendant.

"You are to be commended on your victory, or so Amandil tells me," the king told the captain. "I understand it was a difficult campaign, but well worth the cost."

"A very lucrative campaign," Pharazôn agrees. "I have more tribute to present to you, Uncle, tonight in the great hall."

Celaurien promised, "I will arrange for celebrations in honor of Númenor's victory." That meant she would be arranging for spies to listen to the tales of Pharazôn's sailors and soldiers once their tongues were loosened by Andustar's wine. Pharazôn only nodded and excused himself courteously. He left them in the little room, but not before giving Míriel one last look.

As soon as he left, Elendil bid the herald leave and shut the door. "I liked not the way he looked at you, Míriel," he said immediately. "It was as if you were denying him that which he most wanted."

"She is," Celaurien cut in. "It is the throne he desires, and that will fall to Míriel under Aldarion's law."

"What did he say to you?" Amandil was trying to remain calm and reasonable, but he too was curious as to the nature of the princess's conversation with her cousin. "Did he tell you anything of his plans?" She remained silently, seemingly focused on some point for in the distance.

Palantir dismissed all the questions and addressed his daughter. "You're shaking, Míriel. What is wrong?" He seemed to capture here attention. She looked at him a moment before speaking quickly, as if she were resolved to say what she must although it brought her great sadness.

"Make ready the horses and rouse my guard. I leave for Armenelos this moment." Celaurien protested, but Míriel shook her head. "I must arrive before Pharazôn. The capital is vulnerable, and he knows it well. To reach Armenelos before him, I must leave now."

At last, the king nodded in agreement. "Wise decision. I will make ready to leave…"

"No," his daughter objected. She looked up at him, trying to explain herself. "I will go alone. You stay here, and let me deal with him. You need no more worries, Father. If you can find peace here, then here you should stay." She could do this, she told herself. It was one more way she could protect him, perhaps even save him. He would not stand long against such grief as the return of the strength of the King's Men.

"And when will you find peace, Míriel?" Elendil asked her quietly. She tried to force a smile for them.

"Someday. But not today." No, she would have no peace today. There was too much on her mind now. The trembling had nearly stopped; Míriel willed herself to be still. She must be the master of herself. Yet, even as she looked at her father, Pharazôn's words cut into her again. She was afraid, she realized. She would lose her father someday, but it couldn't be now, when she needed him so much. "I do not want to leave you, Father," she finally said, embracing him as if she were still a little girl. He returned the gesture warmly, then held her at arm's length, considering her a moment.

"You are resolved to do this?" he asked her quietly. She nodded.

"I must. Let me go… for you."

"You are queen of Númenor in all but name…" Amandil noted. "I have no fears for the future."

"I do," Míriel cut in. "That is why I must counter the King's Men now."

Celaurien took her husband's arm. Elendil was clearly troubled, but his wife's physical reassurance seemed to pacify him, as did her words. "All of us understand the necessity of your actions."

"Go then, but be careful," her cousin bid her. Elendil held out his free hand to her. She walked over and clasped it.

"Until we meet again, cousin. I'll return as soon as I may." She said farewell to Celaurien and Amandil as well before turning to her father.

"I will walk with you," he told her before she could bid him goodbye. She was grateful he would not leave her yet. When he left her the final time, for the halls of Eru, so much would change. He was the constant source of strength for her, even now as he faded. If going to Armenelos might help him, she would do it. She would do anything only to know that he was still here with her. Even as she rode away from Andunië, she looked back at him until he was too small to see, but her heart was comforted in knowing he was still there.