Chapter Two: Dinner
Lord Raphizôn blew with the wind, and with my arrival, he clearly noticed that a sudden breeze had arrived from the east. I was greeted warmly by his palace steward, who had apartments in the palace's southern wing set aside for my use. The rooms were spacious and well-decorated; above all, they reminded me of how long I had been away from civilisation. My first act on being alone in the room was to throw myself down on the large feather bed. I then went and called out to the palace slaves to pour me a bath. Only the exertions of a long sea voyage can truly make one appreciate the comforts of a warm bath, and as the slaves pottered round me carrying hot water, I lay back and dreamed of what I would do with my newfound wealth. Afterwards, I chatted amicably to Raphizôn's barber, who had been sent to shave me; I have always made a point of being on good terms with the lower orders. One never knows when the love of the common folk may prove crucial. My father, dour, grim, and tight-fisted has never understood that.
Having washed and shaved, I selected some fine silk and velvet garments in my favoured colours, sable and gold. During my travels, more often than not I wore simple wool, leather, and chain-mail, but, being back among civilised people, it was necessary to maintain appearances; the stained leather jerkin I had arrived in would never do here. A plain golden circlet to keep my hair in place completed my outfit. I strode down to dinner, the very essence of ancient Númenórean nobility.
I entered the dining room to discover a well-laden table, with roast pheasant and dishes of boiled asparagus and buttered mushrooms. Raphizôn and my cousin were already seated. Raphizôn was an old man these days, and had only got fatter with age. What little hair he had left was grey, and his great walrus moustache was stained with the gravies of a thousand meals. He had jewelled rings on his fingers. My cousin, Zimraphel, was, by contrast, an altogether more comely sight. Tall and slender, with long dark hair and blue eyes, she was wearing a smooth green dress that showed her small breasts to full advantage.
On seeing me, my host stood, and inclined his bald head. "Lord Pharazôn," said Raphizôn, "I am honoured by your presence."
"And I by yours," I said, bowing politely. The courtly games had begun.
Zimraphel had not moved, but merely smiled. "So, cousin Pharazôn," she said, "you live after all. The King will be delighted to see you back in Armenelos."
Without a head, I thought. "My royal uncle is too kind." Zimraphel maintained her smile. I sat down at the table, conscious of the tension in my breeches. I was no stranger to the charms of women, but my cousin could distract a man like no other.
"I believe that is enough formality for one evening," said Raphizôn, "now let us eat!" I smiled wryly at that. Followers of the Faithful often preferred to briefly acknowledge Eru before a meal, but with both Inziladûn's daughter and myself in the room, Raphizôn was in a bind. If truth be told, I never did mind this archaic practice of the Faithful, and I knew Zimraphel's acts of piety were largely calculated to appease her father. But it was still amusing to watch poor Raphizôn try to dance his way out.
The food turned out to be very good, though perhaps a bit rich for my tastes after my long experience of rations. Raphizôn ordered a slave to bring in some wine from the cellar. "Vintage stuff it is too," he said to me, "it was laid down in the time of your great-grandfather."
"They make very good wine in Middle-earth too," I said. "There is a land in the north-east named Dorwinion, which has some major vinyards."
"Well, yes," said Zimraphel, "Dorwinion means 'The Land of Wines' in Sindarin Elvish. Whatever one may think of the Elves, they generally give things appropriate names."
"It is good to see that my uncle's little girl has been learning her Elvish," I said sarcastically; I myself had never seen the point. "The King will be so pleased."
"Why, cousin, that almost sounds like jealousy."
Raphizôn swiftly changed the subject. "So, my Lord Pharazôn, tell me, what threat does Sauron of Mordor pose to our interests in Middle-earth?"
"Sauron is content to bide his time for now," I said. "He hides behind his great mountain ranges, and broods. He also has much to brood about, having lost many a servant to Númenórean swords over the last fifteen years."
"Yet, perhaps," said Raphizôn, "It would be wise to seek to end this menace once and for all?"
"Certainly," I said. "But Mordor is too well-defended to easily conquer. I had many ships and many men, but a full-scale assault on the Lord of Barad-dûr would require long preparation and the marshalling of all the Empire's resources. Such an undertaking is the prerogative of the King alone."
"Perhaps you will suggest it to Tar-Palantír when you arrive in the capital?"
"Perhaps I shall."
"Ah," said, Raphizôn, "the wine has arrived." He poured himself a generous quantity. "Here's to the defeat of Mordor!"
"To the defeat of Mordor!" I echoed, pouring some myself. Raphizôn's vintage turned out to be a disappointment. It was not a patch on Dorwinion.
"You are very quiet, cousin," I said. Zimraphel had not taken part in the toast, but was instead picking idly at her portion of pheasant.
"Never mind me, Pharazôn. I am just thinking about what my father will say when he discovers that you are trying to force Númenor into yet another war of aggression."
I had to laugh at that. "Sauron is the Enemy, you foolish woman. Many centuries ago, Tar-Minastir went to Middle-earth with a great armada. He defeated the Dark Lord, and rescued your poor, hopeless Elven friends from the mess that they had found themselves in. Sauron has never forgotten this and wishes to destroy our island. An assault on Mordor is in Númenórean interests!"
"I am well aware of history, cousin," said Zimraphel. "And I am well aware of what Sauron is. Perhaps I am more aware than you are."
"Oh really?" I said, helping myself to some more of Raphizôn's wine. It was growing on me. Perhaps I had been overly hasty in judging it.
"You regard Sauron as the Enemy," said Zimraphel, "not because he is a cruel tyrant, but because he is a rival. When Númenor gave assistance to the free peoples many centuries ago, our nation fought Sauron because he wished to enslave the realms of Men. Now, you wish to enslave the realms of Men in order to fight Sauron."
I noticed that Raphizôn was paying an inordinate amount of attention to his food. I suspected he was swiftly discovering that the surest path to pleasing nobody is in trying to please everybody.
"More foolishness," I said, draining my glass. "The Men of Middle-earth are all-too frequently in allegiance with Barad-dûr. We bring them civilisation, and what do we get in return? Endless rebellion and treachery. My old companion, Amandil, is, like you, a friend of the Elves. He can verify my words. He has fought alongside me countless times against these Men and their orkish allies…"
"And here is the dessert," said Raphizôn, as the slaves reappeared bearing fresh trays.
"It appears to be blueberry tarts and cream," I said, distracted.
"Did you encounter many tarts in Middle-earth, cousin?" said Zimraphel, grinning.
"Beyond count," I said. "But none as civilised as the average Númenórean tart."
There was trifle and some fruit as well, all of which served to put me in a rather less combative frame of mind. Soon the three of us were trading japes, as though we had discussed nothing more heated than the weather. I was also becoming well and truly drunk on Raphizôn's wine. It was definitely an acquired taste, I thought, as I helped myself to another glass. Raphizôn too was becoming quite flushed. Zimraphel was not drinking wine, seemingly preferring water.
Finally, after the plates had been cleared away, I clambered awkwardly to my feet.
"My thanks, Lord Raphizôn, for your generous dinner…"
Raphizôn belched. "It has been a pleasure, Lord Pharazôn."
"And my thanks, dear cousin, for your delightful wit and charm."
"I would complement you too, cousin," said Zimraphel, with her sweetest smile, "but then I would be lying."
I smiled back. At least I think I did. Bowing clumsily, I formally took my leave, and stumbled back to my room.