Warning: chapter contains M-level content.
Chapter Three: After Dinner
I returned to my room, still cheerfully drunk from the wine, to find that the palace slaves had lit all the candles. The room now basked in an eerie glow that I found rather pleasant. I wandered over to the window. As the room was on the third floor of the palace, and the window was large and east-facing, during the daytime there would no doubt be an impressive view of the harbour. It was now early night, however, so I had to content myself with marvelling at the distant flashes from the Rómenna lighthouse. Down below, the lamps were burning in the quays, and the nocturnal folk of the city were going about their business. There were always things going on at night in the great cities of Númenor; it was part of being an Empire, I supposed. Certainly, the primitive savages whom we had fought in Middle-earth would have never seen a stone building, let alone a multi-storied palace amidst a bustling city.
There was a knock on the door. Crossing once more over the luxurious crimson carpet, I went to see who it was. Much to my surprise it was Zimraphel.
"Pharazôn," she said, "may I come in?"
"Of course, dear cousin, of course."
I went and sat down on the bed. Zimraphel, I decided, looked even better in the dim light. She shut the door behind her.
"And to what do I owe this pleasure?" I said, grinning like a fool.
"Was it not fun making Raphizôn so nervous tonight? The old fool thought he saw us fighting like cats and dogs over politics."
I nodded. "He'll probably go and tell your father how staunch a member of the Faithful you were, and tell my father how staunch a King's Man I am. Because we want to please our parents, do we not? Though now that I think about it, the designation of King's Man is a bit obsolete these days. Shouldn't your lot be the King's Men, and my lot be the, well, Other Men?"
Zimraphel laughed, "I have so missed your sense of humour, Pharazôn. It has been too long, so I thought we should start where we left off."
"Left off?" I frowned, my mind still muddied by drink.
"Before you went away," she said, as she started undressing, casually dropping her green dress and then her undergarments onto the floor. She walked naked towards me, her small breasts visible in the soft candlelight. She pressed her lips to mine. I lost myself in her, my tongue was in her mouth, and my hands delighted in the warmth of her body.
She undressed me, and climbed atop. It had been a while since I had had a woman this wet and eager, and despite the wine, I was well and truly aroused. The love was fast and furious. Later, gasping, we lay beside each other on the feather bed.
"You're much better than all the women I had in Middle-earth," I said, kissing her again.
"You're much better than that cretin Melendur."
"Why, can't he get it up?" I said, giving her breast a gentle squeeze.
"No, he's simply not interested in women. Or men either. Or even goats. All he wants is to be is left alone with his old scrolls and his spy-glass."
"Spy-glass? Does he like to watch or something?"
Zimraphel laughed. "No, you fool. He uses it to watch the stars."
"Melendur doesn't seem that bad a fellow. He's as ugly as sin, and, as you say, simply not, well, interested, but he's always struck me as nice enough. He's Amandil's cousin, after all."
"Oh he is nice enough, until you try to force him to do things. Soon after we were betrothed, my father told me that unless I slept with Melendur, he would disown me, and make you his heir."
"Me?" I propped myself up on my elbow. "But your father hates me!"
Zimraphel smiled. "And he thinks I hate you too. Hence the threat. With any luck, after tonight, he will still think I hate you. But even so, being threatened with that meant that I had no choice but to get my betrothed into bed."
"And what happened?"
"It wasn't pretty. Afterwards, Lord Numendil of Andunië, who is Melendur's uncle, came to my father, and told him that Melendur was no longer to be ill-treated in such a way."
"What did your father say?"
"The great and mighty Tar-Palantír sulked for weeks, but finally acceded to Numendil's request. That is why, after thirty years, we are still betrothed, and not married. My father refuses to break off the betrothal though, partly out of misplaced stubbornness, and partly because he's waiting for Numendil to die so that he can start afresh when Amandil becomes Lord of Andunië."
I burst out laughing. "Oh, my poor uncle. The greatest fool ever to sit the throne of Elros."
Zimraphel pinched my nipple. "You can talk, Pharazôn. Your own father's name is a by-word for petulance."
She had a point there. "Sometimes I think it would have been better if the sceptre had bypassed the both of them and come to us."
"Oh, it will. Once my father has the good sense to die anyway."
She may have been lying there beside me, naked and irresistible, but hearing any daughter talk about her father like that is enough to make one's blood run cold. "I hope you're not suggesting anything," I said.
"Of course not. I am merely stating the truth. The sooner Tar-Míriel ascends the throne, the better for Númenor."
I mounted her. "You never know," I said, entering her once more, "Númenor might end up with an Ar-Pharazôn. Wouldn't that be interesting?"
Zimraphel grinned. "Do not get your hopes too high, Pharazôn." Then we were lost in our mutual lusts.
The next morning, I awoke to find her gone. Clearly she had stolen back to her own bed, lest our nocturnal activities be discovered. I also had a mild hangover from the previous night's drinking. I climbed out of bed and padded over to the window. Sure enough, there was a fine view out over the harbour, though it looked to be overcast. Dressing myself, I went downstairs.
The palace steward was lurking. "My Lord Pharazôn," he said, "Amandil of Andunië awaits you outside. He has brought a fresh horse and a travelling cloak for you to journey to Armenelos." I thanked the steward, then went outside to see Amandil.
"There you are!" he said, when he saw me. "Did you oversleep?"
"I think it would be more accurate to say that I had trouble sleeping," I said, truthfully enough. "I still need to formally take leave of Lord Raphizôn."
"I will wait outside," said Amandil. "You know what I think of Raphizôn."
Back when Raphizôn had been an ardent King's Man, he had been instrumental in organising treason trials among the lower-level nobility. Despite his belated conversion to the cause of the Faithful, Lord Numendil of Andunië would still not talk to the Lord of Rómenna, and Amandil had followed his father's example.
"Very well," I said. "I will not be long."
I found Raphizôn seated in an armchair in his library. He had a massive leather-bound book in his lap, though I could not see the title.
"I must take my leave of you, my lord," I said, bowing. "It has been a pleasure to experience the renowned hospitality of Rómenna."
Raphizôn inclined his head. "My thanks, Lord Pharazôn, and you have my best wishes for your journey. I must say though that it was an extraordinary coincidence that Princess Míriel happened to be visiting me at the time of your return."
"Yes, it was an interesting coincidence," I said.
"A shame in some ways. You and her are bright, able, and forceful, the future of our nation. Yet the partisan divide between you is tearing the Empire apart. I saw how the two of you bickered at dinner last night; it was like watching your father and her father all over again."
"I admit that things got rather heated," I said. That was true enough. In more ways than one, of course.
"Yes, and it is not healthy, not healthy at all. I am an old man, and have seen much strife in my life; I hope to live to see the day when Númenor can live at peace with itself. You and your cousin need to learn how to mend fences. You may disagree, but you are both still Númenóreans. "
"I shall take your advice to heart, Lord Raphizôn," I said. My face was an expressionless mask.
Raphizôn smiled. "Thank you, Lord Pharazôn. Please forgive me if I sound too presumptive. It is but the ramblings of an old man."
"Not at all, my lord. Farewell." I bowed and left.
It was only when I was riding out of Rómenna that I burst into laughter.
"What is so funny, Pharazôn?" asked Amandil, genuinely puzzled.
"Nothing at all, Amandil. Nothing at all."