II.) The King's Reply
In his chambers of marble inlaid with ebony, in the highest tower of the Palace of Armenelos, at the heart of the fair isle of Numenor, King Ar-Pharazon the Golden smashed yet another priceless vase of crystal to the floor, and shouted even more curses at Gods, Demons, Elves and Men.
"The fiend!" cried Ar-Pharazon, his blue and gold robes disheveled, his silver beard bobbing up and down as he formed his words. "The filthy devil! Am I Sauron's dog, that I send my cousin to him as ambassador, and he sends me back his severed head? Men and Orcs beyond number will die screaming for this foul deed! Mark my words, I will have Sauron himself groveling at my feet before I am done with him!"
Amandil, Lord of Andunie, gazed carefully at his liege, but remained silent. He had been friends with Pharazon in their early youth, before the man's true character had begun to reveal itself. Amandil knew well his distant cousin's temper, and how dangerous it was to interrupt him when he was in one of his imperious rages.
As the King waxed wroth, Amandil quietly reflected on how such a man had come to be King of Numenor, the most powerful Man in all the world. Not by the rules of kingship, for by all rights Ar-Pharazon's first cousin, Queen Miriel, should have occupied the golden throne. But Ar-Pharazon had an unshakeable belief in his own destiny, and was not about to allow the archaic laws of inheritance – or of marriage - to stand in his way. Through bribes and promises, he had purchased the loyalty of a party of venal, ambitious nobles – "The King's Men" as they were known – and with their support had married her against her will. Abusing his new status as Prince Consort, Ar-Pharazon then declared himself King, violating those ancient laws of the Numenoreans that governed marriage and the royal succession.
That was many decades ago. For the Men of the Royal House of Numenor, and those Nobles related to it, were the descendents of Elros Half-Elven of legend, known amongst Men as King Tar-Minyatur. Like all Numenoreans, they had been blessed by the grace of the Valar with a lifespan that could be measured in centuries, and from their Half-Elvish ancestry they had inherited powers of mind and body otherwise reserved for their immortal kin. Ar-Pharazon was more than one-hundred and fifty years old, even older than Amandil, though his appearance was that of a common man of sixty years. But the passage of time seemed to have whetted rather than slaked his ambitions, not to mention his pride. Pride, and power; those were the touchstones of Ar-Pharazon the Golden, the twin compasses by which he navigated the course of his life.
As King of Numenor, Ar-Pharazon had power beyond the dreams of other Men. Only to the west, in the holy land of Valinor, could Ar-Pharazon not make any claim to dominion. Except for that holy land in the West of West, he was lord of all the Seas of all the world, and of all the coasts of the lands of Middle Earth.
Yet that was not enough for him; not nearly enough. This much Amandil knew: Ar-Pharazon was determined to extend his power deep into the interior of Middle Earth, which was held by Sauron, the Dark Lord of old. Hence Ar-Pharazon's dispatching his maternal cousin Armeneltir as ambassador to the Dark Tower. Armeneltir had been a vain, pompous man, proud as a peacock. Ar-Pharazon had chosen Armeneltir for the embassy to Mordor precisely because of the man's pompous manner, trusting it would send Sauron a clear message about the contempt in which Ar-Pharazon held him, and emphasize the power of Numenor. However, as recent events showed, that contempt flowed in both directions.
Ar-Pharazon had ceased his ranting, at least for the time being, and now his fiery blue eyes stared craftily at Amandil. "So cousin" said the King, "you have seen this vile insult that the carrion-lord Sauron has offered up to me. How would you deal with it, were you King of Numenor in my place?"
"Far be it from me to assume the place of His Majesty" replied Amandil.
"A shrewd answer" said Ar-Pharazon, smiling grimly. "Say then what is your counsel as my advisor".
Amandil reflected carefully. In his one-hundred and forty years, he had learned many things, and in recent decades judging the mood of the King had proved one of the most important of them. All the same, Amandil placed the good of Numenor above even his own life, and would not on any account offer Ar-Pharazon advice that might bring harm to his beloved land.
After a few moments silence, Amandil replied. "Clearly, the challenge that Sauron has offered up to you cannot go unanswered. By breaking the sacred law of Gods and Men that holds the person of an ambassador to be inviolable, Sauron has shown himself to be reckless and a criminal."
"That he has, by the fiends!" shouted Ar-Pharazon, well pleased, and without any apparent irony.
"The question then" said Amandil, "is how we should best respond to such a crime. Justice demands that Sauron be held accountable for his foul deed. But, we must carefully consider the means by which we hold him to account. Numenor is master of the seas, but on land Sauron is still a power to be reckoned with..."
"Sauron is a walking dung-heap!" shouted the King, his bad-humour restored.
"His armies are very great, my liege..."
"Armies?" spat the King. "Do you call a rabble of mindless Orcs and filthy barbarians an army? The scum who serve Sauron would not be worthy of the name "army" were they ten times as numerous! You disappoint me, cousin. Gaze out yonder window, and you shall see what a true army looks like!"
Amandil leaned out the window, through which drifted a cool breeze from the Western Sea. Beneath him lay the white marble spires of the Palace, and beyond them stretched the glittering sprawl of Armenelos, its mansions, houses and broad streets teeming with more than a million citizens. Amandil could see the many fair gardens deemed by the citizenry the emerald jewels of Amernelos, and the glint of sunlight shinging from the winding canals spanned by their graceful bridges. Beyond the marble walls of the city lay open fields, and the sparkling blue river that snaked its way through the Armenelos toward the Sea. At least, he had seen these open fields on his journey to the Palace ten days before, answering the summons of the King. For what he saw beyond the city walls now made him gasp with amazement!
Amandil had been so busy attending the receptions and engaging in the tiresome banter with officials and matrons that filled the days of the capital's elite that he had not paid any attention to what was taking place outside the city. He had heard rumours that military exercises were being held in the fields, but paid little heed to them. Yet now he saw that Ar-Pharazon had already decided on the manner of his reply to Sauron. Where ten days before had stood open fields, there now stood row upon row of soldiers, their numbers beyond counting, their tents of blue, gold and white neatly arranged, stretching across the fields to the horizon. The King must have ordered these forces, stationed across the length and breadth of Numenor, to muster at Armenelos on the double.
"Do you see now the manner of my reply, cousin?" asked Ar-Pharazon.
"I do, my liege" answered Amandil, trying to hide the tremor in his voice.
"Within seven days" boasted Ar-Pharazon, "there will be a million men in that field. They will march to the harbour, where I have summoned a thousand ships of war to await them. They will then board the ships, a thousand men to a vessel. Two weeks from today, I myself shall board my flagship, and lead my men to open war against Sauron, lord of vipers! I shall smash his rabble, break open his Dark Tower, and make him bow before my feet! Then, all the world shall see that Ar-Pharazon, King of Men, is alone their Lord and Master!"
Amandil was speechless. Ar-Pharazon eyed him coldly.
"Your reaction does not surprise me, cousin, even if it does disappoint me," said the King. "I took your measure long ago, and know well that for all your skill as a captain of the Sea, you have no stomach for war. I am ashamed to think that any Man related to me, who has the blood of Earendil and Elros flowing through his veins, should not embrace the thrills and perils of war, should not lust for the ringing of sword on shield, or delight in the blaring of trumpets and the thunder of a cavalry charge!"
Ar-Pharazon frowned. "Still," he continued, "if you cannot be of service to me on the battlefield, you shall be of service to me on the home front. Despite the friendship of you and your House with the thrice-accursed Elves, there are many fools in this land who consider you to be a noble and wise man, worthy of respect. In recognition of this fact, I now appoint you as my regent, to supervise the governance of Numenor while I am absent. I trust you can see to it that the watch remains on the Palace gates, and that milk and eggs are delivered to the chefs on time?" he sneered. "Good. To ensure that you do not abuse the trust I have placed in you, I have ordered your son Elendil to accompany me on this expedition. He will be held personally accountable for your behaviour here."
"My liege!" gasped Amandil. "Elendil is my only son and heir! If anything should happen to him..."
"You will have to produce a new heir. That is, if you still can," laughed Ar-Pharazon, amused by his own wit.
Stung by the King's insult, Amandil stared at At-Pharazon with his warm brown eyes. "My son means more to me than life itself, my liege. Perhaps if you had a child of your own..."
"Speak not to me of my lack of heirs, vassal!" barked Ar-Pharazon. "In any case, it is high time your spoiled whelp had his first taste of war. Let him be blooded, and it will make a real Man of him. The first red-blooded Man amongst the Lords of Andunie in many a long year. Now, be off! I have many matters to attend to with my Admirals and Generals. Go to the Steward of Armenelos, and he will see to your administrative arrangements."
Amandil bowed, and then stalked hurriedly out of the chamber, muttering under his breath. "Ar-Pharazon the Golden...Ar-Pharazon the Madman is more like it! Does he really think to challenge one who walked the Earth before Elves and Men, who has swept Elvish armies before him like dust, who was cunning enough to evade the reach of the Valar themselves during the War of Wrath? Woe to the sons of Numenor, that this folly should come to pass!"