So sorry for the long wait! I have been researching about battle-strategies, so don't be surprised if you recognize certain great leaders' tactics in later chapters. The capital of Númenor by this time, I should think, has expanded into the kingdom's largest city that- although the outskirts are sparsely populated compared to its dense city centre- it still has suburbs, streets and so forth nearing the coastline.
Chapter Eight
In Armenelos, Capital of Númenor. …
Inzilbêth Queen of Númenor gazed at her husband.
He was growing grimmer by the day. He was middle-aged- for Númenórean standards- but the deep, graven lines on his face and the grey on his hair and beard made it quite clear that he was aging, and not very well.
Ar-Gimilzôr never once smiled. Inzilbêth found it deeply ironic- hypocritical even- that her husband and the rest of the 'King's Men' as they called themselves wished that their ancestors had chosen to be elves and envied them, yet despised every part of that race and anything to do with their culture. Speaking Quenya and Sindarin was now a treason punishable by death. Reading and writing in Tengwar was the same. She supposed they had become so jealous that if they could not join the elves, then they would despise what they could not have. It was a very human flaw- dwarves wouldn't have it, neither would the ents. And now because of his fear of aging and dying, her husband was now, ironically, aging prematurely.
The queen turned her gaze towards her two sons and daughters-in-law. Inziladûn her eldest stood with his wife, Gimilkhâd, her younger son, the very image of his father to the scowl, save for the lines and the grey in the hair and beard, had his own wife at his side and their son. The boy fidgeted.
Inzilbêth sighed. Inziladûn looked over to her in concern but said nothing. Gimilkhâd did not even notice him mother.
Ar-Gimilzôr may have certainly looked it, but although Inzilbêth did not, she felt it and that was even worse. She wondered if that was what Estela must have felt- nothing showing on her face, but all the sorrows and weariness locked up deep inside. She thought, secretly, her husband was a fool to be afraid of a few lines and grey.
Their evening meal was by far, less warm than a funeral banquet. The dishes were the finest Númenor could give, and they had new ingredients- exotic spices from Rhûn, but it all tasted like sin and damnation to the queen.
The meal went on in silence save for her grandson's fidgeting.
Afterwards she wanted to excuse herself. "I am tired," she said by way of explanation.
Ar-Gimilzôr stared at her. "Don't you wish you can see the spectacle?" he asked her.
"What?" she asked confused.
The king did not smile, but there was a glint in his eyes that gave her an icy chill down her spine, which spread. He stood and the rest of the family stood with him. Wordlessly Inzilbêth followed, fearfully wondering what he was up to this time.
They left the King's House, a palace of epic proportions and to Inzilbêth's surprise and amazement, with so few body-guards, they went onto the streets.
It was the dead of night. There were few people and the lanterns were lit. It was a good thing too, as they would have gaped seeing the royal family riding on the streets at night with so little escort (normally the king would have been too proud to go near a street).
Inzilbêth felt chilled and wrapped her mantle closer. She wished she had brought a proper winter cloak but her husband had not given her much time. She shivered. Unfortunately she had the feeling of realising that whatever 'surprise' her husband had in store, it would be much worse than freezing to death.
"What is it that you wanted to show us?" she asked, attempting to sound whiny and irritating to him about going out at night. That would be much better than to have him suspect her of treason.
It seemed to work. The king looked irritated and muttered. "We will be there shortly enough."
Then they came to a house at the edge of a cliff, after a long while. Inzilbêth looked curiously as her husband motioned for her to go inside along with their sons. She did so, feeling rather confused, and trying, so desperately, to calm the feeling of dread that had built up inside of her.
The interior of the house was very dark, she noted. But a torch was lit and passed onto her husband. The king held it aloft as he led the way, moving through silent corridors. Inzilbêth was dimly aware that they had stopped. Pale moonlight gleamed on the marble rooftops, and the bare ground and she realized they had entered a courtyard.
A courtyard overlooking a cliff.
In the courtyard, she saw a number of figures- some were dark-skinned, others of lighter colouring, they wore different foreign-looking garb- they must have been Easterling, Haradrim and Variag by birth and heritage by the looks of it.
Ar-Gimilzôr's eyes glinted. "These are the commanders of the Haradrim, Easterling and Variag armies. They have joined us in our cause."
The men bowed. They were tall and menacing and she did not miss the glint in their eyes which- although different- were similarly evil.
"Our cause?" she repeated foolishly.
"Yes," Ar-Gimilzôr never smiled, but she sensed his pleasure nonetheless. "Our cause. Our cause against the high and mighty elves and their traitorous friends who believe that they alone have the right to immortality and glory. Our 'friends' have made history for the past two Ages. But no more. Soon the Time of the Elves will end. The Age of Man is about to begin."
"No," he decided. "The Age of the Númenóreans, and their triumph against the proud and puny races of Arda." He breathed the words like a prayer, but to whom? He no longer prayed to the All-Father. The Valar were nought to him.
Inzilbêth managed to keep her voice steady, and sounded more whiny when she asked, "you still haven't mentioned to me what this 'spectacle' is."
The king did not smile, but he came eerily close as his mouth twitched.
"Come," was all Ar-Gimilzôr said.
He led the queen, his sons and daughters-in-law over to a ledge high on the cliff and they all looked down.
No words could describe the reactions they had at what they saw.
What they saw beneath, the light of countless flickering torches, as many as the stars that no longer shone on Númenor, the sight of tens of thousands- ships floating on the sea, the shouts of the captains and commanding officers upon them, the loud trumpeting of colossal Mûmakil or Oliphants, the vast hordes of mounted cavalry soldiers, not to mention the ones on foot. Nothing could describe it- the sheer size of it- nothing, she was sure, had ever been seen like this since the days of Morgoth Bauglir- no, not even.
"Magnificent, is it not," the king breathed in her ear. Just like the words of love he had spoken on their wedding day. "And soon, you will be queen of the whole entire world."
In the northern shores of Middle-Earth…
Estela gazed at the army of elves assembled to fight. The fortress built there was a clever one- they had the mountains and they would use it to their advantage.
Ever since they arrived the elves had assembled, Estela and her cousins included, building, hammering and shaping stone and metal, readying their arms for war. The plan was to draw the King's Men there. But that would require a fortress first, with ramparts, a draw-bridge, portcullises, and everything else a fortress would need- or rather it was one of three, and Estela and her followers had been working like mad for an extremely long time to build them- now they were hurrying to finish them- no small task, even for elves.
They were almost done.
Estela's eyes shone as she looked upon their work. The stone and metal were beautifully fitted, blending seamlessly into the mountain rock. If people believed that dwarves were the only ones who could build their homes in the mountains, they were wrong. The dwarves themselves would never believe it.
Estela saw the lights in the distance. She knew- as far away as it was, and unlikely that it would come to them any sooner- that it would still come. And when they did, they would have to break upon the walls of the mountainside, like water.
"Are you ready?" she asked her cousins.
Telperinquar grimaced but still nodded. As for Tulcano, he did not look happy, but neither was he unready.
Estela sighed.
"It is time. Send a discreet message to Gil-Galad. We are facing doom sooner than we hoped. We will meet him, however, our identities still secret, when the time comes."