Course Correction by Raaf

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Chapter 6

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Their trouble with Sauron had not brought the mundane matters of state to a halt, and Míriel had some to attend to.

The first issue was solved easily. Pharazôn, who spent most of his youth building up a lengthy military experience, had himself filled the office of commander in chief of the armed forces. The vacant position needed a replacement, but for once politics were in their favour. The logical choice was Amandil. He had also earned wide-spread esteem as a captain, often on the very same expeditions securing their Middle-earth borders that had made Pharazôn so popular. There had been some formulaic meetings that were held and quickly adjourned.

Míriel was avoiding the second issue. A seemly amount of time had passed and the court became politely insistent that their Queen should remarry. They spoke of needing to see the succession secured, and had unspoken aims of advancing themselves through their preferred candidates. She obviously saw the need to avert the looming succession crisis, but there was no good option for doing so.

Míriel had no direct relatives in the line of Kings to make her heir. In those frenetic early years after her father’s death she had thought they would have plenty of time for children later when things were more settled. Then, only six years into her marriage, the war with Sauron happened and all of her plans were derailed. Between the irreconcilable disagreement Míriel had with Pharazôn's new course and Pharazôn being convinced that the quest for immortality would soon be over, the issue of an heir had fallen to the wayside.

Míriel’s third cousin, Amandil, was her closest living relative, but that was through her father’s mother. It was a distant 17 generations ago that the Lords of Andúnië had branched off from the line of Kings. His family was still the strongest successor candidate, as they were the only other Númenórean House accorded royal status and were second in rank only to the ruler. It was almost stated that they were meant to take the throne when Númenor’s symbolic White Tree had its line continued in their keeping.

Amandil had also outright named his son 'Elf-friend'. It was an open secret that Amandil led the Elf-friends. Despite this, Aphanuzîr the great ship captain was generally popular in Númenor, for he was accomplished in everything the populace admired. They could forgive him some eccentric beliefs that did not cause him to behave improperly. It was not a matter of them accepting Amandil himself, however. Amandil was considerably older than Miriel, and he came with unpopular heirs.

Unfortunately, Elendil ‘Elf-friend’ did not enjoy the same goodwill as his father, and his own son, the outspoken Isildur, had even less. While Míriel was sure Elendil or young Isildur would make a good king, passing the throne to a branch House was unprecedented in their law. The King’s Men would be reluctant to acknowledge their claim in the first place, and would more likely than not use that excuse to refuse to do so. They were better than having no appointed heir, but it would still cause strife.

The most stable solution would be to oblige the court, which was not an option she would have preferred even if she had wanted to remarry. The Council of the Sceptre’s power was purely advisory, unless they needed to act as regents. She was not entirely sure it was a good idea to make a regency for a young heir possible, but the kind of infighting a succession dispute would cause would be even more useful for Sauron.

Doing so was not simple. The royal house of Númenor conventionally only married within the Line of Elros. After their blessings started fading, the high-born Númenórean Houses focussed heavily on preserving their bloodlines to grasp at the gifts they could still keep. They had only a little more luck there than they did trying to cure death. Keeping track of family trees was an exponentially difficult task when you took into account more than a single line of descent, and no-one knew for certain how the more mysterious traits were inherited.

There were few unattached noblemen left who were of high enough and pure enough blood to be eligible for her hand, and finding one who would serve for her agenda would be difficult. The last thing she needed was one of Sauron’s deluded followers trying to wield influence through her. Neither could she lightly afford a controversial choice against that convention.

Amandil’s House were still the only Faithful left in court, which was not a very feasible option either. Reverting to the broken betrothal her father had originally set up with Amandil’s older brother, Elentir[8] , would be troublesome to frame in a way that wasn’t insulting to both him and to Pharazôn’s memory. Elentir had not at all helped matters by being so dramatic about her rejection and insisting he would never marry anyone else. Not to mention that it would be intensely awkward to ask him again after all that, which would still be less awkward than having to rob the cradle with one of Elendil’s sons.

At the time Míriel had agreed that their most powerful and influential supporters was the best political match, but her fondness for Elentir was too familial for her to be happy about it. Whatever the law said, the distant cousin that was friends with her father was the one that felt too close to marry. Then Pharazôn had come and seemingly offered a perfect solution to everything she had worried about. Given how that had turned out and her current circumstances, she would have to set her expectations lower again to sensible political convenience. It was nothing urgent at least, even if she couldn’t put off a decision indefinitely.

The next issue involved a petition from the Houses of Healing and first required further attention before it could be addressed. The Houses of Healing in Armenelos was a quiet and grim building. During Míriel’s youth her father had frequently brought her along to his visits there. As part of his attempts to revive the old ways, both of them had learned medicinal lore so that the hands of the king could be the hands of a healer again. She had actually quite enjoyed it — it was a relief to have problems that were straight-forward to fix — but rarely had time for it anymore. The sweet scent of athelas and the muffled chants seeping through the walls was almost painfully nostalgic.

All forms of sickness were nearly non-existent on the blessed Isle of Elenna. The Númenórean people as a rule lived untroubled by infirmities and natural deaths came only after many long years. The Halls was hence mainly used by a trickle of unfortunate people who had suffered accidents. A fortunate Man would never step foot in there and most people did not like to be reminded of its existence. Now, however, it was the busiest she had ever seen the place. When she entered, there were even people lining up outside the building that had to make way for her entourage.

Míriel was unsettled by the unusual bustle which only kept increasing, until she reached the more private office of the head healer. This would at least involve a mostly friendly face. Khibilphêl was a relative on her mother’s side and they had been taught together. Healing was a fairly popular option for younger sons and daughters in the Line of Elros that could not inherit anything important, but did not want a military life. Medicine was always useful, but the spark of inherent power from Melian the Maia which was inherited by the descendents of Elros let them influence more than the mundane effects of a poultice[9] .

“I can already say that your petition for increased funding and expansion was warranted.” Míriel smiled wanly. “What is happening here?”

“More of the usual that the Avalôi has taken to inflicting on us, Ar-Zimraphel, but the cumulative effect is becoming problematic. The quicker Men age, and the more they grow ill, the less hands we have for maintaining our struggle. Why are they being so petty?” Khibilphêl vented.

“We know why. If we serve the Darkness as well, then obviously, if unfortunately, the Lords of the West will also treat us like Men of Darkness." Míriel said unhappily.

Sauron, damn him, was correct that Númenor had long ago departed from Valinor’s example in regards to Middle-earth. After the Men of Darkness had ceased to be threatening to their old enemies, they became pitied for the desolate circumstances they were since reduced to. That was a point which Míriel could simply not agree with the Valar’s judgement, either.

It was not undeserved, that the Men who had accepted the leadership of Morgoth’s servants were left to all the cruel consequences that had brought them. But it was harsh, when those Men had not had many realistic options for avoiding the action they were condemned for. The Númenóreans’ ancestors had, at dreadful cost, rebelled against Morgoth, but their suffering was why they had been so richly rewarded. You did not reward someone for an action they were merely obligated to do, which conversely meant that you should not punish someone else for not doing so. The fate of Middle-earth was a very unpromising indication for how long Númenor would bear their own guilt for returning to Morgoth’s worship.

“Then it was very dishonest of Avallōni to offer us gifts”, Khibilphêl said, “and not admit they were in truth bribes to hold over our heads. Yes, it was good of them to fix the mess they made in the first place, but it is a bit much to expect us to be eternally grateful for it. Really, what did they even give us that we were not entitled to in the first place? They gifted us a new land, but this was only necessary because they had destroyed our homes in Beleriand. They restored our lifespans and health, which again was only necessary in the first place because they abandoned us to their renegade brethren when Men Awakened.

“They still think it is good that we alone are fated to die. Why, I don’t think they realize what a gift is. It is a sad joke to call death a gift when we do not want it and cannot refuse it. Almost as bad a joke as telling us that our mortality is not a punishment, but then punishing us by shortening our lives again. We do not need their conditional blessings, we will soon have a real solution like the Elves. We will just have to work around our current inconveniences in the meantime.”

The lifespan the Edain used to live was increased three-fold when they were gifted their blessings and Elenna-norë. The Line of Elros, who also descended from the great kings of the Eldar and even one of the Ainur, had a five-fold lifespan. Ever since Númenor had stopped following the Valar, however, the Sea-Kings died earlier every generation. It had reached the point that the House of Elros lived only an ordinary triple span, and the Númenóreans of lower birth dropped even lower. They did not know exactly how that had happened, but the pious branch of the Lords of Andúnië being far less affected was a rather clear indication that their rebellion was the cause.

Her father’s death at 220 made him the first King who outlived his predecessor since the decline had started, if only by three years, and his years might have been longer if they had been easier. Like the rest of Tar-Palantir’s efforts, he had still restored much less than he wanted to. Amandil, with his undiminished blessing, was already two decades older than Tar-Palantir had been at his death, yet Amandil was not even close to his own old age.

Míriel wasn’t sure how her own faithfulness would be judged. Her reign had certainly outdone all the previous rebellious Kings; Númenor was now descended as far into evil as the collective ingenuity of its people could devise. The question was if it would help that this was despite her efforts and not because of them. She likely couldn’t count on more than another 60 years either. At best.

Her uncle, Gimilkhâd, had not even lived a full two centuries, though even in their cursed days that was an abnormally young death for a descendent of Elros. The worry that he would share his father’s bad luck had gnawed on Pharazôn, especially since he looked older than her despite being in truth a year younger. Sauron had never let an opportunity pass for Pharazôn to feel reminded of his inevitable and likely early death.

“Yes,” Míriel said, “and now when someone dies, just as soon as they did before, we can preserve the dead flesh against rotting. I admit you studied Healing further than I did, but that quest is not leading to anywhere. You know that the Elves are little different from us in body, the difference between us lies at a deeper level than that. Immortality has no material cause that we can affect, it is simply not possible.”

That was an old argument on Númenor. In terms of pure biology, there wasn’t any significant difference between mortal Men and immortal Elves. The existence of Half-Elves was a definitive demonstration of that. Any biology at all, was strictly optional to the other immortals, the Ainur. The brothers Elrond and Elros had after all, had absolutely no difference between them, beyond being allowed to choose if they wanted to have the fate of a mortal or immortal. Elros, Half-Elven and part-Ainu[10] , had less than half his blood of Mannish origin and still lived and died as a mortal Man.

“Zigûr’s necromancy is distasteful,” Khibilphêl admitted, “but his wraiths are a proof of concept that mortal spirits can escape from death and continue on without any ‘natural’ lifespan. If you can simultaneously preserve the spirit and preserve the body, then aren’t you immortal? Immortality is theoretically possible and we won’t just give up.”

“Distasteful is putting it mildly. It is counterproductive to try escaping from the horror of death by being constantly surrounded by it.” Míriel said.

Míriel had experienced the misfortune of seeing one of the Nazgûl up close. Sauron could not attend to every aspect of ruling his lands while physically absent, and occasionally his most important subordinates came to meet with him. The Ringwraiths filled their surroundings with the icy cold of the grave, and their shrouded faces made you feel your own inevitability creeping upon you. There was a reason not even her misguided people had tried to escape death through necromancy.

“Regardless, we still have practical problems to sort out in the meantime.” Khibilphêl said.

That, at least, consisted of some straightforward arrangements.

“A lighter question then, have you decided on marrying someone yet?” Khibilphêl asked afterwards.

“I’m still weighing my options, there is a lot to be taken into account.” Míriel evaded.

“That’s cold, you were always the one that loved the tales of fated romances.” Khibilphêl teased.

“Yes, but defying the world for love didn’t work out very well for myself.” Míriel said ruefully.

“Ah, are the Faithful still upset about your marriage to Ar-Pharazôn?” Khibilphêl asked.

“I can’t really complain, they did turn out to be correct that it was a mistake.”

“You did make the right decision. Tar-Palantir left Anadûnê on the verge of revolt, whereupon you reconciled the populace and now we are more prosperous than ever. Of course you were justified in improving the stability of the realm instead of pursuing a futile mission to restore archaic beliefs.”

“I am glad there is someone who isn’t upset with me,” Míriel said dryly, “but now I have neither a stable realm nor did I maintain our ‘archaic beliefs’.”

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself,” Khibilphêl said, “I don’t think you actually would have had better luck opposing the King’s Men’s agendas if you hadn’t married Ar-Pharazôn. Remember when your father was King and how your uncle kept subverting his efforts and raising rebellion against his commands? We would have just gone through that again and worse, for Ar-Pharazôn was better loved than his father and Tar-Palantir had exhausted the Faithful’s credibility. If you had followed Tar-Palantir’s plans you would have likely just brought down a full civil war on your head.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better. We will never know now.” Míriel said.

“Then look at it this way,” Khibilphêl winked, “the Faithful only gained their grip on the Sceptre in the first place thanks to a King marrying unwisely. It's only fair to take it with good grace when they are on the losing side of that as well.”

“An internal dispute is one thing,” Míriel complained, “Zigûr taking the opportunity to involve himself is another.”

“A little flexibility is in order, don’t you think?” Khibilphêl asked. “Zigûr is powerful and we should take advantage of the fact that we can force him to compromise and cooperate with us.”

“That was what Pharazôn thought,” Míriel said, “and now Zigûr is the power behind the throne. We cannot control him and it is foolish to try.”

Beyond a few formalities, Míriel had had no contact with Sauron in those first three years when he had been a mistrusted prisoner. His presence was always unsettling and there was no good reason for seeking it out. Unfortunately, Pharazôn had been overconfident from his victory and underestimated the subtler dangers Sauron still posed. Afterwards, she was obliged to see Sauron frequently in the elevated position he had connived for himself, but he had soon realized that he could not cozen her in the same way as he had Pharazôn. Since he had not actually needed to do so with everyone in the court, except Amandil, following Pharazôn’s lead, he had previously seemed content to leave it at that.

Míriel would not repeat Pharazôn’s mistake in thinking Sauron could be controlled. Sauron was only constrained because he had objectives he was unwilling to abandon. If he had thought his position was unsalvageable, then he always had the last resort of sacrificing his physical form and abandoning his empire to their retaliation. That was likely how a ‘victory’ on Míriel’s part would turn out. Having him gone from any positions of power and influence, and unambiguously cast as Númenor’s common enemy, would be such a boon however, that she would be entirely happy with that result.

“Zigûr only managed to accomplish anything that he could cajole the King into. That Ar-Pharazôn turned out to have less moral principles than you would have preferred does not change that. Unless you think you are suddenly in danger of succumbing to Zigûr’s charm, we are quite safe.” Khibilphêl pointed out.

“And the cult Zigûr started was things being under control?” Míriel asked sarcastically.

Míriel may have had to always frame her objections to worshipping Morgoth in terms of pragmatic issues the person she was addressing would care about, but she never made a pretence of not opposing the practice. Dark blood rites in honour of Morgoth Bauglir was past the point where one could morally hold a diplomatic neutrality on a subject.

“If Mulkhêr gives more generously than Êru will,” Khibilphêl said, “then it is only fair he receives more valuable sacrifices than the first fruits we offered to Êru. So long as he really will deliver on Zigûr’s promises, that is. You are perfectly right that it is past time we start seeing actual results for our efforts.”

“Khibilphêl, how can you say that?” Míriel was horrified. ‘ Was there nowhere on Númenor that Sauron’s rationalizations wouldn’t be swallowed?’

“Saying some people should die is an improvement over saying everyone must die! The Avalôi don’t have the moral high ground here.” Khibilphêl scoffed. “Besides, putting the lives of malefactors and lesser Men to good use for the glory of Anadûnê is hardly an outrageous concept, this is just more direct.”

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Míriel returned home with a heavy heart.

Spring was going to begin soon. That was the last issue she had to make a decision on, whether the first day of spring would also lead to the first of the yearly Three Prayers, as it should. It was clearly a bad idea, the very few people who would approve were not going to have their positions significantly changed from the observance, and the rest would cause trouble. Míriel hadn’t yet tried something controversial against Sauron’s influence, for the very good reason that the worst thing a leader could risk was to issue an order that wouldn’t be obeyed. This wasn’t a good point to use as a start. Yet neglecting it also felt too much like the compromises that had landed Númenor in this position in the first place.

The afternoon darkened into the long evening. Armenelos was built on the eastern slope of the vast Pillar of Heaven and consequently the city always saw relatively early sunsets when the Sun dipped behind the mountain. The shortness made the sunsets no less spectacular, as the flat mountain top became outlined by the setting sun's glow and the bright colours reflected on the clouds below the summit. At that moment, the sky was only darkening instead. The sunsets were rarely visible anymore, for that was the same time that Manwë’s clouds rose out of the West. Míriel shivered in the evening air, the sign seemed inexplicably more ominous than usual.

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Chapter End Notes

Footnotes:
8 Elentir’s existence and the Elentir-Míriel-Pharazôn triangle are only in the HoME drafts. It’s not said that the betrothal was Tar-Palantir’s idea, but Míriel immediately breaking it when she gets an opportunity makes it a pretty obvious interpretation.
9 Aragorn’s ‘Hands of the King’ magic healing powers was because of his non-human ancestry from Lúthien (Letter 155). There used to be a lot more people running around which that applied to, which I’m guessing is partially responsible for Númenor’s amazing medical abilities. Which really raises the question of how ‘magic’ genetics works, since that is a lot of generations by the time we reach Third Age Aragorn.
10 If you want the exact math, Elros is 6.25% Maia, 56.25% Elf (10/64 Vanyar, 6/64 Noldor, 20/64 Teleri), and 37.5% Man (15/64 House of Bëor, 5/64 House of Hador, 4/64 House of Haleth). So nearly everyone and the majority not human :p