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Chapter Text

The 24th king of Númenor, Tar-Palantir was dead. His funeral was held with all regalia in the cove of the Faithful.

Tar-Míriel, his only daughter and rightful heiress to the throne had only learned about his death after her return from the battle in the Southlands. When the ships of Númenor had entered the port in Armenelos, hundreds of black flags had heralded the king’s death. Only Míriel could not see it. Elendil, captain of the sea guard had guided her to the bough of the ship, and she had to learn of the vision that greeted them through his description.

It broke Míriel’s heart not having been able to be with her father in his final days.

For years she had taken up the reign in his stead to preserve the peace on the island. While his mind had slipped farther and farther into realms no one else could follow, it was different now knowing that he was gone forever and could not help her anymore with his wisdom and love, even though in his final years his mind had often been clouded and foggy.

After her father was gone, Míriel avoided his chamber in the tower fearing the coldness it now exuded without him living in it.

While she had just wanted to curl up in her bed and mourn her loss and the events in the Southlands, Míriel knew she could not stay absent from the court and her duties any longer. Soon she was caught up in many meetings and administrative topics that also served as an excuse to avoid his rooms.

She felt an urge to take over the reign again, as her cousin Pharazôn had used the time to rule the island and steer politics further to his liking while she was away supporting the people in the Southlands. Míriel knew that his wish to grasp the scepter intensified every day. So did the influence of the people supporting him and his political course - to fight the old believes and gods and turn Númenor into a ‘modern’ society, towards a new path.  

Finally, while still mourning her father’s death, Míriel found her way into his chambers some days after the funeral. She had a moment alone to herself, at last, something that had not occurred so often in the past days. Having dismissed her maids away earlier in the evening she made her way cautiously to the late king’s bed chambers alone, hoping to be undisturbed.

Míriel hesitated a short moment in the doorway, letting the feeling of loneliness and bereavement wash over her. After a moment, not knowing how much time she had before someone came looking for her, she pushed the emotions away and focused on her task.

Soon she was sitting on her father's bed, rummaging through the wooden boxes that still held his personal effects. She had known where to find them, Tar-Palantir had often directed her to the secret chamber before. Míriel thus knew where he hid the boxes that also held the special key to the secret room in the high tower. As a child she had been fascinated that the key was made to look like a broad bracelet and not like a real key at all. Her father had explained to her a few times how to manipulate it, and it had taken her small hands more than a few tries to form the metal into a shape that fit the keyhole of the strong wooden door in the corner of his chamber.

The secret room below the roof was fascinating for the child! It held so many wonderful and different objects, a sword, books, and many other artifacts. The most fascinating was the elven far-seeing stone in the middle of the room. It was poised on a stave and covered with a cloth. It looked so beautiful, dark blue with white lines meandering through the material.

Her little hands had stretched out to touch it when her father had snatched her arms away with a quick movement.

He had frightened her with his sudden action, but then had explained to her that the palantír, as the seeing stone was called, would show her different versions of the future when she touched it and that she would have to wait to be a bit older before he could let her see it.

His eyes had darkened, when he had explained this to her and Míriel had gazed suspiciously at the round object, not sure if she still liked to try it if it caused her father obviously so much discomfort.

Years later, after she had seen the visions again and again, had lived through them, had dreamed of them over and over, she knew why Tar-Palantir had tried to cushion her so many years from their devastating effect.

Now, sitting on the bedspread, going through his things, feeling for the objects with her fingers and trying to identify the key, Míriel was too immersed in her fears for Númenor and its people to monitor her surroundings with her other senses.

What would happen if the political tides now shifted? What would the Elven stone show her now? Had the vision changed due to their venture to middle-earth… and would she still be able to see the vision at all?

Her heart almost jumped out of her chest when Pharazôn suddenly appeared in the room without a warning. Míriel had gotten quite good at listening to her surroundings, noticing sounds that would have escaped her awareness before she had lost her sight. But in that moment, she was so distracted that her senses did not warn her of her cousin’s approach.

“Your father’s effects.” He stated and then droned on about something or other while closing in on her.  

When asking him why he had come to seek her out, he had the audacity to demanded: “Show me what you hide behind your back, and I will tell you!”

Míriel loathed him at that moment, trying to make her feel like a schoolgirl being caught by a teacher. She hated how her cousin played his power, trying to belittle her, now even more than before she had lost her sight.

Luckily, she was able to hide the secret key by slipping it over her wrist behind her back.

She decided to feign ignorance and stood up, not wanting him to tower over her in her sitting position.

Still, it almost surprised her that his reason for seeking her out was to speak about her coronation, declaring the mourning time had to end. He was certainly pawing his hooves in the dust to get going, now that the king was dead. The funeral had just been a couple of days ago. Yes, the nation needed an official ruler, but acting as queen regent like she had over the past years would certainly be appropriate for a couple of more days. It wasn’t just her mourning time; it was for the people as well. To cut it short made her wonder what Pharazôn’s true intentions were. She knew he wanted to break with a lot of traditions, but starting at that really made the anger in her stomach churn.

Would he really see her on the throne or was he planning something completely different? Oh, how she wished to possess her sight, she had become very good at reading his true intentions reflected in his eyes. But now having to rely only on her other senses when being around him, especially when being alone with him, set her on edge, making her feel insecure like she had never experienced before.

On the outside she still tried to remain calm and dignified, not letting on how deeply Pharazôn’s actions unsettled her.

Then he was holding some fabrics to her face, wanting her to choose colors for her coronation gown. She was supposed to choose between white - representing the old ways, the faith – and red, representing the turning away from the old believes.

His touch to her face was another unacceptable imposition. He would not have dared to come so close to her, invade her private space had she still possessed her sight. One look from her would have stopped him at a distance.

She felt a flood of relief when he and his unsettling energy finally left her alone after she had made a choice on the color of her gown. The room felt like it had been swept by a tidal wave and now everything settled and calmed again after the forceful wave had retreated.

Míriel forced herself to take a couple of deep breaths before turning and finally making her way up a narrow flight of stairs to the secret chamber.

She was not prepared for what awaited her there. Finding out that the palantír had been stolen let Míriel’s blood freeze in her veins.

Standing in front of the empty column that had held the palantír, her mind was racing, but she couldn’t come to a solution on how to find the missing stone, not without her vision. She resisted the urge to bend down and feel with her hands if the palantír had somehow fallen off the stave, but she sensed it was nowhere nearby.

Her hands still placed on the empty surface of the column, she bent over, her head between her outstretched arms, air rushing out of her lungs as if punched in the stomach.

No, no, no!

Thoughts were racing through her brain, too fast to manifest any coherence.

The worst thing was, she couldn’t tell anyone about this. If people knew that she looked into the farseeing stone, they would immediately press her father’s destiny upon her and she would die alone locked away in the tower, if not a prison cell.

An avalanche had been set into motion. There was nothing that could stop it now. It would rush over her and drown her and there was nothing she could do anymore but let it all play out.

Her defiance reared like a wild horse at that thought, however, not wanting to succumb to the inevitable. There must be something she could do. For herself and for her people.

Míriel had no proof of who could have the seeing stone and what they would do with it. And least of all, how could anyone have entered this secret room? No one supposedly knew about how to get there. What the hell had happened?

The theft confirmed her suspicions of her opposition trying to undermine her with every possible chance. Was Pharazôn the author of this scheme? Not matter if he was behind it or not, he would shamelessly use this to his advantage.

………………

Míriel had always had a certain intuition about when her cousin was near, already since they were children. She hadn’t even needed to see him or hear his voice, she just knew when he was close by. They had grown up together in the large palace, their fathers being brothers. Even though their fathers quarreled a lot and had very differing views on politics and faith, they never actively tried to keep their only children apart. That had happened on its own accord.

When the real split between the king Tar-Palantír and his brother appeared, Míriel and Pharazôn were already older and had grown apart. Not necessarily just because of the rift between their fathers, but because they both had formed different views on life and power themselves and pursued different interests over the years, building their own networks.

Pharazôn had traveled a lot when he was younger. He was a very good sailor, amassing riches on his voyages that made Míriel wonder if they were gained always in fair accord.

Nevertheless, the cousins had still held a certain respect for each other and exchanged their views on politics at irregular intervals when they met.

Once it became clear that Tar-Palantir’s reign would destabilize the peace on the island more and more, Pharazôn had docked his ships and involved himself more and more in council work to support his cousin as queen regent. Or that was what it was supposed to look like.

He had known that the daughter of the King of the Faithful would need a counterbalance in her council, better even if it was someone close to her, close to the royal family. Who better than him? He knew the world, politics, strategy and while at that time he not openly condemned the faithful, he did nothing to support them either. This way he presented a good link and both of them managed to keep the peace on their island and the faithfuls vs the king’s men in balance as well.

Over the years, however, Míriel had noticed a certain underlying ruthlessness take hold of Pharazôn. It was never out in the open, it rather seemed to smolder like embers of a fire that one day with the right breeze would flare up, turn into a roaring fire and consume everything that was close to him.

This feeling always held Míriel on edge when she was around Pharazôn. Over the years he seemed always more and more driven by a deep ambition that let him sometimes overstep boundaries and appropriateness towards others. There was always a tension in the air around Pharazôn, an underlying aggressiveness that made Míriel’s skin prickle. As if the molecules in the air were rubbing against each other, sending off some kind of electricity.

Not the good kind of electricity, the kind she felt when the captain of the sea guard was nearby. He exuded a much more calming energy, like a soft wave gliding over her skin, a cool breeze on a hot summer night. Pleasant, inviting, instinctively drawing her nearer. 

Her cousin’s energy felt like needles. Bristling on her skin, making the hairs on her arms stand up, the kind of energy one could feel during a nearing thunderstorm. She felt it even more now that she was blind, being more attuned to energies in a room, trying to gauge what her eyes could not tell her. 

Míriel had felt this unsettling energy that day during the funeral service for her father. Elendil had attested to her assumptions and Pharazôn’s dealings. She had already felt it before leaving for Middle-Earth, this growing friction around him, the people he surrounded himself with when he thought she would not understand the implications. Always telling her that it was for the greater good, for the welfare of their island to strike certain bargains and create or strengthen certain alliances.

While she had always respected him for his brilliance and political dealings, she had started to become suspicious of his dealings in the past years. She could not lay her finger on it what it was exactly that set her off, but she had felt more and more inclined to second his thoughts and actions. Not openly, of course! But she had had her means and connections to make sure she always knew what he was up to.

Coming back from their war defeated and decimated, those connections had changed. By leaving for Middle-Earth and leaving Pharazôn behind, she had pushed the weight of power further into his hand. It was a risk she had had to take – and unfortunately it had not paid off for her.

Right now, Míriel felt like she was on a float racing down a raging river, not being able to stop or jump off, except to drown in ice cold water.

What a fitting analogy, she thought bitterly to herself, so fitting to the constant vision that the palantír had shown her.

Pharazôn would exploit every weakness, she knew that from experience. Being blind now, was not just a disadvantage, it was a devastating blow that placed her into harm’s way like nothing before, and she had dwindling possibilities to protect herself and her position. He used her situation very cunningly, feeding into the minds of those around her to paint her unable, disabled and unfit to rule. And the worst part was, she sometimes thought the same, when all her concentration was spent on trying to understand her invisible surroundings and her other senses to compensate for her failing eyes.

Míriel felt a growing sense of threat and unease thinking about her cousin. While she had always had a way of reigning in her Pharazôn's ambitions her grasp on him had loosened dangerously.

Worse even, he was repeatedly invading her private space without hesitation, touching her unwanted. It had cost her all her strength not to flinch back and show any weakness when he had held the fabrics against her cheeks. Before she had been able to keep him at a distance with a look, creating a barrier between them that he never dared cross, but now with her sight gone he became more and more disrespectful and invasive, in body, speech and mind.

His attitude had become almost always condescending, as if with her sight she had lost her intelligence as well. Oh, in public he would always make certain to express thoughtfulness towards her lack of sight, to guide her to places and inform her about certain happenings in the court that she could not see. But she knew that his information was filtered, and she was more than happy that Elendil or sometimes her confidant, Aglaril her head lady’s maid, was able to accompany her and fill in the blanks. The advantage of being guided by one of her maids was that she could merge into the background, walk among the gathered people and gather snippets of conversation, observe looks and gestures as not many paid as much attention to her as to Elendil.

Pharazôn had often let her know in the past weeks that he thought nothing of her growing sympathy towards those following the old believes, trying to push her off the very narrow path she had to walk between the king's man and the faithful. Worst of all was, she knew had to choose at some point. It seemed there was no middle path anymore. Her cousin had demonstrated that with the colors of her coronation gown. White for the past and red for the future. But how could she have chosen red when she knew that the future only seemed to bring dismay and the downfall of Númenor?

She wondered how far Pharazôn’s net had already stretched since her trip to Middle Earth and how far her authority had truly been undermined.

He was an excellent politician an excellent strategist; she had to grant him that and together they had made a good team over the past years. At least officially. Behind the scenes they had had more and more arguments and quite differing views. As the Queen Regent, she technically could overrule him, make decisions in her favor, be it for the faithful or other political matters, but it always felt as if she was walking a very thin line. She knew her cousin could only be pushed so far before he would snap back like a rubber band on a sling stretched too far. It had needed all her intelligence and political acumen to avoid falling into the trap that held her father imprisoned in his own palace. It felt like Pharazôn only waited for her to misstep, to make a mistake that would help him seize the throne. And maybe that misstep was her support of the Southlanders on Galadriel’s request.

Míriel returned to her own chambers and started pacing, evaluating her options. She felt increasingly vulnerable and defenseless. While she could not do anything about the missing seeing stone for now, she needed to do something to protect herself or at least increase the chances of being able to protect herself. And maybe with that she could find a way to protect her people as well from the fangs of the king’s men.

This constantly growing feeling of losing control on all levels robbed her of her focus.

It had to stop!

She needed her wits now more than ever and could not afford to spend her energy on worrying.

Míriel had always been a very visual person, relying on her observations which often told her more than words did. Now she couldn’t fall back on this trait anymore. Míriel needed to find a way to compensate otherwise, no matter how difficult it was or how much time or energy it cost her. She needed to check which alliances she still held.

She never, never wanted to be surprised like that again. And she never wanted to have her private space invaded unbidden, not by Pharazôn, nor by anyone else.

Rational thinking took over and banished the whirling fear in her stomach.

There was one person who could help her.

Chapter Text

Wondering if it was not too late in the evening, Míriel took her staff and made her way to her chamber door. The staff with intricate carvings and inlays was a gift from Elendil she had received some days ago. Learning to use it to feel for obstacles in her way when walking gave her a great amount of independence back.

She didn’t want anyone to know where she was going and what she was doing, though chances of getting by completely undetected where slim. Nevertheless, she had dismissed her ladies in waiting early for the night before going to her father’s chambers, so that was already one source less asking uncomfortable questions. For a brief moment she thought about donning a cloak with a hood, but the disguise would not work, anyone might have identified her as a blind person with her cane and there was only one on this vast island, she mused.

Leaving the cloak on her bed, she slipped out the door and headed towards the stairs. As the tower did not hold many rooms on each level, it was usually enough to have guards placed on the lower levels at night.

Except for one irrational elf no one else had tried yet to scale the walls on the outside either. Still, this occurrence had led to different additional posts watching the outside of the high tower day and night to discourage anyone who might take the chance.

Before rounding the bend to the lowest level, she stood and listened. Míriel knew that the guards stood just a few paces away out of sight on the ground floor. The entry to the secret passages was conveniently a couple of steps above it.

Hearing no movement, she searched with her hands the narrow slit in the wall. It held the lever of the hidden door that was let into the stone. Not knowing it was there; one would pass right by it. Míriel activated the silent mechanism and slipped through, closing the door again from the other side. With the tip of her cane, she felt for the three steps down and then followed the narrow hallway until another small passageway crossed hers. Turning left she knew that it would lead her to another secret door close to the entry to training ground of the palace and from there it was not far to the living quarters of the captain of the guards.

As a child Míriel had often snuck away from her maids or her teachers. One of her favorite places was a small hiding nook in the corner of the training area where she often watched the soldiers spar with each other.

One day Varyadil, the captain of the guards, had discovered her, but instead of turning her in, he had handed her a wooden sword. It was too big and almost too heavy for her small hands, but she would never have complained. She had fiercely grabbed it with both hands and Varyadil had shown her how to hold the sword correctly, then how to plant her feet and go through the first, easy movements until she became his most eager pupil. Secretly at first, then officially as soon as her father received a report of her antics. Of course, something like that would not have stay secret long. While the training officially was on the agenda of any future ruler, it started earlier for Míriel than planned, based on her own initiative and curiosity.

Taking over the political reign from her father had not left Míriel much time over the past years to train. Still, the training she had received over many years was ingrained into her every being. At least, she had always thought so. Now she wasn’t sure she would even be able to defend herself, much less fight without her sight. Míriel needed to find a way to get beyond the fear, beyond the false fantasies of someone lurking in the shadows whenever she heard a noise she couldn’t identify. There must be a way to use her remaining senses to her own defenses, to gain a moderate degree of of security or this goddamn blindness would swallow her up.

She stopped in the shadows of the entry to the training grounds and listened. It sounded deserted. Vague flickers, though to blurred to locate, wavered before her eyes, the ever-present gray curtain hindering any light to provide any recognizable shape.

The grounds were lit throughout the night, she knew that. Then Míriel heard steps nearing, then a clanking, as if wood hit metal. Instinctively stepping further back into the passage she hoped no-one had seen her. What was that noise? The clanking moved around the walls. Then Míriel remembered that it must be the groundskeeper who exchanged the torches that had almost burned down.

She heard someone else approach and a short exchange of words reached her ears, but she could not make out the content of the conversation. Someone else had entered the area.

Suddenly a particular scent tickled her nose and the faintest scoff of boots on the hard packed sandy ground reached her ears. Before she would not have paid any attention to it, probably would not even have been aware of the sound, but now that she was relying so much more on her hearing, her mind sprang to attention at the slightest noise and smell.

While initially her heart stopped a beat fearing she was detected, and hoping it was not one of Pharazôn’s men, she soon recognized the footfall and the scent. The specific aromatic oil he used for his beard and the smell of the sandalwood soap were unique, also when the usual salty breeze was missing today. Hm, had he not been to sea then, Míriel mused.

“If I didn’t know better, I would think you were sneaking around in your own palace, my Queen.” The familiar deep baritone reverberated against her ears. Even though he was speaking in low tones as not to give away her location to others, it triggered the familiar tingle on her skin and the fluttering in her stomach.

Míriel let out a breath she hadn’t notice she had held. She decided that she wouldn’t answer him for now, but could not withhold a small smile when she asked: “What business of yours brings you here, away from your ships, Captain?”

“I just had a meeting with the Captain of Arms. We had decided to have our regular meetings in shorter intervals now to exchange and plan on how to make sure our island is best protected from all sides, on water and on land.”

While the captain of arms himself had not attended the battle in the Southlands, some of his men had and he had been part of the debrief she and Elendil had given the council shortly after their return. Both captains kept each other up to date, though the queen regent did not always have to be present at those meetings.

Míriel gave a curt nod at Elendil’s statement and in parallel felt her body automatically gravitate towards him. By the Valar, she had to get a grip on herself.

“Are you here on your own?” The captain asked and by the way his voice moved she pictured him looking around for an escort.

“Yes,” she smiled. “Thanks to a very personal gift…” at that she lifted the staff a little, “…I have found a modicum of independence again.”

“And you are testing this independence just now?” She heard the smile in his voice, moving even closer towards her. Míriel could feel his breath on her skin, the warmth radiating of his body in stark contrast to the cool stone walls of the service way they stood in.

Míriel only managed to nod, not trusting her voice now standing so close to him that their bodies were almost touching. She heard his tunic rustle and felt him raise his hand and then very gently, as not to startle her, he touched her forearm that held the staff. It took all her restraint to not grab his with her free hand and pull him even closer. Her skin burned where his hand lay on her arm and she heard her breath grow faster, hoping the shadowy service way would not betray the flush on her cheeks.

Elendil did not know what on earth possessed him to touch his queen unwarranted. Much more so almost on ‘public’ grounds. Even more so, he wanted to bend his head towards her upturned face and capture the full lips with his own. Before he could break the spell or act out of line, Míriel spoke up in a husky tone.

“Will… I see you later? Or do you have to return…?” She left the end of the sentence unsaid, unsure of where he would usually spend his evenings or if he had something else scheduled.

If he was surprised by her question, Elendil did not show it, at least not in his voice when he answered softly: “I have one last errand for the day, but I can meet you later at your quarters, if you like.”

“Yes,” she breathed, finally placing her free hand on his, desperately needing to touch him, to feel him when she could not connect with him through her eyes. “I would like that very much.”

And damn the court politics and policies! She did not care at that moment if it would be appropriate or not that he came to her chamber.

“Then I will be there.” Elendil promised and gave her forearm a reassuring light squeeze, before they slowly let their grasp on each other slip. Míriel’s arm felt cold where seconds ago his hand had warmed her.

She felt bereft of his touch when every other touch that came unbidden and without warning by those around her wanted to maker her flinch. They meant well, her maids and her guards, but they did not understand what it meant if you could not see a touch was coming, be it to guide her or pass her some object or other. Her head maid and confident since she was young, Aglaril, had adapted to her needs quite well and taught the others relentlessly on how to approach her. Still, they sometimes forgot.

But Elendil’s touch was different. She always knew when he was about to touch her. Either he told her or made sure she could anticipate it any other way. His touch was always welcome, it made her feel safe and somehow it made her feel complete.

“Do you want me to accompany you the rest of the way? The training area is cluttered with sword stands, arrow banks and target boards – assuming you were going that way.” Míriel heard the concern in Elendil’s voice and again was touched by his consideration.

It would be so easy to just give in and be guided across the yard without having to worry about running into things and making herself look and feel ridiculous. It would also be a good excuse to stay close to him, to share his proximity a bit longer that otherwise would not be appropriate. But she had to learn to manage her way on her own. Now more than ever. Being a coward had never served her well, no matter how tantalizing the excuse.

Míriel straightened her back, lifted her chin a little and shook her head. “Thank you for your offer, but no, I will make it on my own. If I remember correctly, the path along the walls should be clear.”

She heard him turn his head slightly apparently scanning the area. “You remember correctly.” He hesitated a moment before stepping sideways to stand with his back against the wall making room for her to pass. “Be safe.” He added earnestly.

Míriel carefully felt her way with her staff around him and turned slightly back to him at the doorway. “You too, Captain.” She felt his gaze linger on her face, before his footsteps combined with the soft rustle of his tunic moved away after a short moment.

………

When the queen regent was relatively sure the area lay deserted again, she moved forward, along the wall to her right for orientation, then left at the corner until she detected an arched entrance in the wall that led to the living quarters of the soldiers. Most members of the guards who did not have a family lived on the grounds in this part of the building. It also housed common rooms for those guards currently taking breaks or about to start their shifts.

Míriel remembered the first door on the right was the one to the captain’s quarters, the only one large enough to house a family. Again, she listened and did not hear anyone move along the corridors. These days she did not know who would work for Pharazôn or not and she did not want her little sojourn to be detected right on the first night. She knew that judging her surroundings to find out if she was being followed where limited, but maybe luck was with her for once.

The tip of her cane made a small hollow sound when it moved from the brick of the wall against the wood of the door. A little sight of relief left Míriel’s lips.

She knocked on the door and waited. Then the door opened and a deep, male voice, whose sound immediately made her straighten her posture, demanded: “Yes?”

Then the man recovered with aplomb when recognizing who stood in front of his door: “Queen Regent! Do come in.”

She hard him step aside and slowly moved forward, her staff extended, making sure she did not stumble over the threshold.

“Thank you, Captain,” she nodded in his direction. The title that slipped so easily across her lips reminded her of someone else and Elendil’s face swam before her eyes. It was easy to ignore who was standing in front of you if you couldn’t see, but the smells were all different. Where Elendil usually scented like the sea, salty and like a fresh breeze, here more earthy smells ranged in the foreground.

Varyadil closed the door behind her.

“Would you like to sit down? I’ll guide you to a seat,” he offered. After nodding her assent, she felt him step closer. Reaching out her hand, her fingers connected with his arm, and she let herself be led to a chair and the captain placed her hand on the arm rest for her orientation.

Míriel carefully lowered herself into the seat. Not bothering to fold the staff in the middle, she carefully leaned it into the space between her left thigh and the arm rest of the comfortably upholstered seat.

Míriel could only vaguely remember the layout and furnishings of his quarters but was sure that the arrangement had changed over the years with his marriage and the arrival of his children. The room behind the entrance served as the dining room, if she remembered correctly.

Once settled, she heard noises from the other side of the living quarters. “How are your wife and your two boys, Azulzîr and Zimrathôn?” she inquired politely.

Both boys had received the queen regent’s blessing in the official ceremony after they had been born. Inwardly Míriel was smiling, knowing Vayardil had bowed to the decree to use Adûnaic names, but used the ones that still showed his loyalty. It was risky, but he would not be Captain of the Guards had he not taken the one or other calculated smart risk. Besides, those where honorable names in the local tongue, so who could blame him. Míriel knew that the translation of Azulzîr – East Friend – was referring to Rómenna, where the Faithful had been relocated by King Ar-Gimilzôr, her grandfather. After learning the Elves had secretly kept on visiting the Western port of Andunië, the king constituted that all people of the old faith had to leave the Western shores to never be contacted by the elves again. The fact that for years elves and men had still met in secret, undermining the king’s decree had cost Amandil, Lord of Andunië and Elendil’s father, his seat in the king’s council.

Varyadil smiled and Míriel could hear it in his voice. “They are all very well. Azulzîr has started the official training, he turned seven in the summer. His brother is more into horses, could ride before walking. Like you.” He chuckled and moved to the seat next to her. It creaked slightly as he sat down.

“Yes, my father always knew he would find me either in the stable or the training grounds and not in the school room where I was supposed to be.” The corners of her lips pulled upwards, remembering. While she had always loved learning, curious as she was as a child, she had also had the need to roam around a lot. She was always climbing trees and walls, playing in the stables, cuddling the horses or bringing the one or other little animal that needed saving into the palace. She drove her maids crazy sometimes with plunging them either into worry or exasperation.

She pushed the memory away and sobered.

“Apologies for disturbing you and your family so late.” Hoping she judged his posture correctly Míriel turned her face towards him and raised her eyes. “I need your help, Captain.”

“I have been waiting for your visit at some point. What can I do for you?”

It did not surprise the queen regent that he expected her to call on him. Maybe he did not anticipate her at this late hour but not the fact per se. If someone was aware to the slightest ripples in the political climate, it was him. Often before anything became official, Varyadil was aware of it, having created a valuable net of allies and informants across the island and beyond.

Míriel’s connection with him went back many decades and they both held high respect for each other. But for now, she was not here for his connections. She was here for herself.

“As you probably know the political climate is unstable, to say the least,” she began. “Having lost the battle in Middle-Earth or rather, having lost so many people by the eruption of the volcano did not help my position nor the standing of the Faithful.” Míriel paused for a moment and ordered her thoughts. “But even considering all the losses we were right to help the Southlanders, for a great evil has awakened and it will swallow everything in its wake. While I think we might still be safe for a while her on our island, it will only be a matter of time before it will reach our shores. We have to be prepared, and I have to make our people see the danger that awaits us. And…” She tried to collect herself and thought about how best to describe the real reason why she was there – or at least her additional personal reason.

Varyadil patiently waited for the queen regent to continue. She had her hands linked in her lap, and he noticed how she gripped them hard.

“Having lost my sight has put me in a precarious situation. I need to learn to use my other senses as best as possible, but I cannot do it on my own.” She took a deep breath. “I want to learn to use my senses to know before people step into my personal space and if necessary, I want to be able to defend myself.”

The captain watched Míriel closely while she was talking. Everyone else would have seen the royal mask schooling her features, but he was trained to look beyond it, to watch for many different cues that gave emotions and true ambitions away. It was engrained into his being that he automatically scanned every person in front of him. That was what made him so valuable as captain of the guards. But not only did he use his eyes, he tuned into his other senses as well and the cues they gave him, something that most people with perfect vision did not pay attention to. So, he was confident that he could help his queen and this was the reason she came to him.

“I would have guessed as much,” he answered calmly. “I understand your situation and also the political currents that cause tremors in our society for a while now. It will be a walk on the knife’s edge to find the right balance here.” He sighed, ever conscious of the changing tides that could mean for him and his man to be called to action at any given moment.

“Of course I will help you, Queen Regent. Why don’t we start the day after tomorrow? I have a field training day with the newer recruiters tomorrow outside the palace. But after that we can have a regular schedule. And I shall see how much of my training you remember,” he added with a grin, knowing that she probably had not forgotten much. That should give them a good basis to start from, besides having to adapt to her loss of sight.  

Míriel nodded, relieved that she had not misjudged her old teacher. “We’ll see about my memory.” She answered with a quirk of her eyebrow at the jest, then continued: “My schedule is quite tight as you can imagine, and I would like to keep everyone else unaware of what I am doing here for now. There at not many people I trust, and this training might be an advantage that I’m not willing to give away just yet. So, it might probably be best for me to come early in the morning or late at night, if this also works with your schedule.”

“That should work quite well. Though I’m thinking it might be easier to find a room close to your chambers to train in, as you might be spotted sooner or later coming here on a regular basis.” Varyadil pointed out.

That made sense. Pharazôn had his spies everywhere. She couldn’t even be sure to have arrived unobserved this evening. This meeting could be easily explained though. But showing up here on a daily basis rather not.

“And how will you arrive unseen?” She challenged him, but Varyadil chuckled.

“I have my means. Stealth is my weapon, remember? It will also give me a good chance to observe your surroundings.”

Míriel knew he did not mean the building but rather the people in it. She nodded.

“Good. Though there is just one other thing I would like to clarify, even though I think I don’t actually have to say it out loud. Nevertheless, for protocol’s sake: I do not want you to spare me. Not because I’m your Queen Regent and especially not because I’m blind. Then again,” she smiled, “I know you wouldn’t.”

He chuckled. “That is correct, Míriel.” The use of her first name showed her that he did not let titles and ranks stand between them. He had been allowed to call her by her first name when she was little and under his training. Varyadil was one of the few who did not belong to her immediate family who was allowed to do so in private.

“Training late at night might also add another layer of difficulty,” he continued. “You’ll be exhausted and less focused, that is when you will be most vulnerable and likely to make the most mistakes. It is a good situation to train in.”

Secretly Míriel liked that her title did not intimidate him and that he remembered the offer to call her by her first name. It had been some time since she had personally interacted with him.

The captain then added: “I would also like to clarify something. I will need to touch you more often than usual in trainings because you cannot see my movements. I might need to guide your arms and legs and sometimes stand close to you to correct your position. In most cases I will let you know before I do that - at least the beginning of our lessons. It will be part of the training to learn to anticipate that and react accordingly without warning the further we progress.”

“I need to be able to defend myself. These situations never come with a warning,” Míriel simply stated.

His eyes widened slightly at this exclamation. So, there had already been a situation where she had been cornered, he guessed. He had suspected as much, but the tone and sincerity with which she just made that statement, confirmed it.

Varyadil had honed the skills to be master over his own body for decades, for over a century even. He understood how quick reflexes and body control could save one's life. He also understood even better the predicament his queen regent was now in, being more vulnerable than ever.

He also knew her tenaciousness and her will to fight through every challenge with a backbone he had not seen in many people, much less leaders - good leaders, before.

They both stood.

Míriel felt relieved at the knowledge that she still had an ally. And that she would soon have coping tools to ward off unwanted and unanticipated touches. “Well, so we have an agreement.”

It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Still the captain felt obliged to answer.

“Yes, we do. I shall find you an hour before sunrise the day after tomorrow. Until then I will have arranged a secluded training area. Can I accompany you back to your quarters, Queen Regent?”

Míriel shook her head. “No, thank you. I found my way here, I shall find my way back,” she stated and lifted her staff wiggling it slightly. “This will help,” she smiled.

Vayardil nodded approvingly. “Very good. Before you leave, I have some homework for you before we start our training in two days.”

“Homework?” Her eyebrows rose high on her forehead.

The captain chuckled. “You do know that I hate to waste time. Every minute of life can be used for training.”

Míriel had to stop herself from cringing. Remembering his motto, she wondered for a moment if she caused herself more trouble than she could currently shoulder. She already felt like every second of her life was a constant training since losing her sight. Then she reminded herself of the increasing fear that often paralyzed her and that she could not give in to.

Paying attention again to Vayardil, she noticed that he had stepped away. The air around her felt… emptier, somehow. Then she heard a noise from close to the door. He seemed to rummage through a trunk of some sort. She heard some jingling, some heavy ‘plonks’ and then a triumphant: “Ah, here it is!”

His footsteps drew nearer again and Míriel noticed a shift in the energy around her. It wasn’t just the sounds of his footsteps that announced his approach, the quality of the air around her changed, it grew more dense, somehow. Interesting.

“Here, please take that satchel.” Vayardil told her.

Míriel reached out her hand and was met with Vayardil’s, who then pressed a soft leather bag against her palm. Again, the jingling tickled her ears.

“What’s in there?” She inquired; her curiosity peaked as her fingers closed around the leather.

“A bridle.”

“A bridle? Whatever would I need that for? It’s not like I will go horse back riding any time soon.” She hoped her disappointment at this statement did not ring through as much as she felt it inside her heart.

Riding had been one of her favorite past times. She loved horses above all else, even though in Númenor often men were more prone to do it than women. Already as a child she often had begged her father to lift her up on his horse when they were traveling to Andunië for the summer retreat. She found it boring riding in the coach with her maids and when she was finally old enough, she was first allowed to ride a pony, then a larger horse as she grew.

Horse back riding had always helped her to forget the stress and the big and small problems that assaulted her on a daily basis the more she got involved into the island's politics over the years.

Having lost her sight meant also having lost so many things she had taken for granted.

The captain’s voice pulled her back from her thoughts.

“Well, riding will also be part of our training, though we will start with something different over the next days. This,” he jiggled the satchel a bit, so she knew where he was pointing at, “is a task I give all my recruits. If you can take this apart and assemble it again as quickly as possible just putting a bridle on a horse will be much easier. If you master a task more difficult than the actual one you want to solve, the better and faster you become at that. I want to see you do it within a minute.”

Míriel took a breath, but before she could say anything, Varyadil added: “And no, it is not easier for them, they all have to do this with a blindfold.”

Now Míriel had to laugh. This is why she liked this man so much. He had never tried to treat her differently, not as a child, not as queen regent and certainly he would not treat her differently now being blind. He would push her boundaries, her patience and her self-awareness, but that was exactly what she needed. She needed to know what she was capable of.

“Very well,” she nodded, accepting the challenge. These would be two nights with even less sleep than usual. Being queen regent, she could refuse and set a different pace, but she did not have time and they both knew it.

“See you the day after tomorrow.” He stepped towards the door and Míriel adjusted her position slightly based on his movements and moved forward, finding the exit.

She paused for a second in the door frame. “Thank you.” She nodded in Varyadil’s direction and felt his hand shortly touch her forearm in lieu of a look to show his sincerity. She did not flinch back as she would have with other people, having anticipated his touch.

“Good night,” he bade her and closed the door softly behind her.

Chapter Text

Míriel stepped outside into the hallway, taking a second to orient herself and listen to her surroundings. Carefully she slung the strap of the satchel over her shoulder.

About to move to her left towards the doorway that led back to the training grounds, she felt another presence to her right. It wasn’t Elendil, his energy felt differently and there was another scent around the person. Míriel turned.

Before she could utter a word, the person identified himself.

“It is I, Valandil, Queen Regent.”

“Ah,” Míriel was annoyed by the relief she heard ring in her voice through this single utterance.  

She had come to like the young man with his calm presence and good common sense. Besides, he was bright, intelligent, integer and loyal and if she remembered correctly, had a wonderful shock of black curls. Míriel knew that this was neither the time nor the place to hold an audience with him, but she was genuinely pleased to meet him.

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Valandil, good to meet you. How are you?”

If Valandil was surprised by his regent’s interest, he did not show it. “I am well, thank you. How…” he paused as if unsure how to continue and wondering if it was appropriate to ask at all. When he noticed the expectant look on Míriel’s face, and her slightly tilted head, he dared to continue: “I hope you are well.”

She inclined her head slightly. “Yes, thank you, as well as can be expected,” she answered non-committal. It surprised Míriel that he commented that, when most would have left it at that.

“Well, it isn’t easy for any of us.” Valandil took a breath as if to say more but then decided to release it again with unspoken words.

Míriel wondered if he meant with ‘us’ all that came back from the Southlands or the Faithful, but he didn’t clarify, and she didn’t want to ask in these surroundings.

When he did not come forward, Míriel changed the topic and asked him: “What brings you here?”

The short hesitation, just a second, before he answered told her everything.

“I was just…,” he broke off his explanation when she waved a hand in his direction to cut him off.

“Let me guess – visiting a friend?” This time it was clear through the tone of her voice that she did not believe it one second should Valandil insist on this being true.

The young man sighed. “You know.” He simply stated releasing a breath.

She had to give him credit for not insulting her intelligence.

Míriel smiled. “Hm. Yes, I do.”

“I told Elendil you would see through this right away,” Valandil smiled and almost sounded proud to have confirmation of his suspicions.

“But he insisted,” Míriel provided.

“Yes, he did. He made it an order to accompany you back to your chambers.”

Míriel snorted unladylike. “Of course.”

She was annoyed and at the same time touched. It was a mixture of feelings hard to explain. She was still the queen regent, so she could follow her business schedule like she seemed fit. On the other hand, it gave her a warm feeling inside thinking that Elendil cared so much as to make sure she arrived safely at her destination.

“Well, we can’t have you defy an order, can we?” She asked after a moment.

“Um, yes, actually you could, or at least overrule it,” Valandil answered sheepishly.

Míriel gave a short but genuine laugh. “That I could.”

Abandoning her plan of moving through the palace on her own, she adjusted the strap of the leather satchel on her left shoulder.

“I am sometimes willing to listen to my counselors and confidents and this might be a good occasion to do so if one of them seems fit to have me accompanied. Let us go, if you are finished with your ‘visit’, she smiled.

Valandil chuckled. “Yes I am.” He stepped closer and fell into step next to the queen regent who had started her way towards the door. He watched her test the ground before her by sweeping the beautifully carved staff from left to right across the floor, finding the doorframe and gracefully stepping through it, down the three steps onto the sandy floor of the arena.

Here the queen regent hesitated a moment. Valandil was not sure if he should offer her his arm as she seemed quite adapt with her cane. Míriel absolved him of his dilemma.

“You have to lead the way here, straight lines across a large open space with several obstacles are not my forte, even with the help of this,” she lifted the staff. Besides, she felt it unnecessary to move along the wall for orientation if she had someone with perfect sight besides her to locate the door at the other side.

Valandil slightly brushed his arm against hers and let her find his elbow instead of grabbing her hand. Small things Míriel was grateful for and confirmed her opinion of him. He warned her when they approached the door and once inside the corridor, she let go of his arm to move again on her own.

“If I understand correctly, you are not officially in the sea guard anymore. Does the Captain involve you often in his errands?”

Valandil chuckled. “Well, it was a coincidence that we met here, I had some other business to attend to today and I was truly thinking about visiting an old friend here. But when we crossed paths earlier on, he talked me right away into being your …escort.”

“Very considerate of him,” Míriel stated and felt Valandil stop next to her.

“Queen Regent,” he said facing her when she had also come to a halt.

Míriel heard his voice move from left to right as if he was looking around to make sure no one else was overhearing. They were still in one of the hallways, but the more official ones and had to be careful, not to be overheard. When he continued, his words came across only as a whisper, but a whisper that did not hide the urgency in his voice. “Please don’t underestimate the web your cousin is weaving. He had started to surround himself with allies even before the expedition to the Southlands. I’m sure you know that.”

She nodded. “Yes, I’m very aware of that.” Míriel wasn’t sure if she should trust Valandil in so far as to tell him about her plans. Her instincts, which she could usually rely on, told her he meant well and was on her side. But the politician in her was still cautious.

“He is surrounded by nobles from all over Númenor, Lord Belzagar becoming one of his closest counselors.” Valandil continued to explain.

“You have noticed.”

“I have had a run in with them. Come, there are people approaching.”

The faint footsteps reached her ears, and she nodded, reaching out to find his arm. Valandil guided her towards the stairs, past the two guards and up to the private tower. Once they reached her door, she turned towards him.

“Thank you for accompanying me. But I need one explanation. What did you mean, you had a run in with them? With whom? Where and why?” Míriel kept her voice deliberately low.

Valandil took a deep breath. “I overheard them talking about you in a tavern in the old quarter after the king’s funeral. Ar-Pharazôn, his son, Lord Belzagar and…” he paused for a moment and Míriel wished she could see the expression on his face. The next words were pressed out through clenched teeth, and she heard the betrayal ring in them. “…Eärien, Elendil’s daughter.”

Having seen the sister of his best friend – his dead best friend – teaming up with the likes of the king’s men had hurt Valandil more than he cared to admit. They had been close friends once, but now there seemed a rift gaping between them that was not likely to be ever mended.

Míriel held up a hand to stop the young man from speaking further. She had to digest the meaning of this. What did Elendil’s daughter have to do with those men? Was the captain aware of this?

“Does Elendil know about this?” She whispered now, hoping he would not overhear them should he already be waiting for her inside her quarters.

“He knows that she does not support his view of the old ways, the old faith. They had discussions about this already before the events in the Southlands. But… that is not my tale to tell.”

The queen regent nodded. Valandil continued. “The four of them were discussing – openly, that you were not fit to rule, not fit to be our Queen.”

“Because of my infirmity and because they fear I will be following the path my father walked on.” She scoffed and shook her head. “I already know that.”

“Yes, but do you know that Eärien might have found a way to sway the better part of the public towards your cousin?” Again, his voice took on an urgency that sent the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

The familiar feeling of fear settled in Míriel’s stomach. She would never underestimate Pharazôn, but maybe his net had indeed stretched deeper and farther than she knew. Could she even trust the young man in front of her? Instinctively she took a step back. It could be a ruse, a test, cleverly schemed by her cousin’s unscrupulous mind.

Valandil observed the regent’s reaction and didn’t know how to convince her of his sincerity and that he was on her side. He continued his tale. That was the only thing he could do.

“I don’t know what Eärien’s plan is, she never mentioned. I…. I probably should have stayed in the back to listen, but I could not… I would not let them besmirch your name.” Valandil fought to keep his voice down when his rage seemed to want to push the words out with vehemence. “I know what we went through in the Southlands, that you and me even tried to save Eärien’s brother… Isildur,” he forced himself to say his name, even when it almost broke him “while they sat with their asses firmly on save grounds here in the palace… It is so easy for them to belittle and judge if they have not tasted the ashes and seen the death on that battlefield.”

“Valandil,” Míriel calmly said, stepped closer again and finding his arm, gave it a reaffirming grip. He was shaking with rage; she felt the tension vibrating through his body.

“Apologies my Queen, I forgot myself. But they are just men of words, and not of action. False words and false promises. How can anyone follow such leaders?” Not daring to say it out loud he also wondered disgusted how Eärien could confer with them.

Míriel gave a sad smile. She knew that the rift that ran through their society had started much earlier with other kings than her father and that Pharazôn and his followers now rode on the crest of the wave those rulers had started centuries ago. Her father’s and her own attempt to stop the decay and downfall of their island seemed feeble against such opposition that found purchase in time spanning across ages. What had she now to set agains this?

“You need not apologize.” She felt his sincerity, the honesty in his words. Besides, his story would be easy to confirm. She brushed the thought aside and gave him a curt nod.

“I thank you for standing up for me. But as you stated yourself, they are weaving a dangerous net, and you should not bring yourself into their focus. They might have you on their target list now.”

“I don’t care! I cannot stay silent! I cannot stand by and watch injustice being done!”

“Valandil.” Again, she laid her hands against his upper arms to give emphasis to her words, when she could not covey it with a look. “We need honorable men like yourself to fight for our cause. But for now, we cannot fight openly. We will only lose. We have to keep our ears and eyes open, collect information and think of how we can use this against them.”

She considered her next words before adding: “Will you help me with this?” She took half a step back again to give the young man room and a moment to think. “You don’t need to answer me right now. And I know that this is much to ask. If you decline, I shall not hold it against you.”

Valandil took a deep breath before answering: “I don’t need to think about it. We have both seen what is coming, from the inside as well as from the outside. If I can be of service, I will be.”

She heard him bow at the last words and an involuntary smile crossed her lips as the candor with which he spoke touched her deeply. How could she have doubted him?

Also, she owed him a lot since he had guided her away from Orodruin’s ambers and ashes. He had not fussed, he had not panicked, even though his friends had died in front of his eyes. He had helped her up and had guided her towards safety, never once questioning her state of vision and her hand on his shoulder.

“I thank you, Valandil.” She answered quietly and sincerely and was about to add something more when faint footsteps reached her ears. A little louder she added: “Thank you for escorting me to my chambers. I wish you a good night.”

“Anytime I can be of service,” was his answer and she understood the double meaning behind them.

Turning towards the stairs she recognized the tread and relief flooded through her. It seemed the evening was under a good star when it came to her encounters.

Chapter Text

“Elendil,” Míriel stated, and he loved how his name sounded on her lips as soon as he stepped around the last bend. Míriel still had to digest the conversation with Elendil’s former charge and mentally tried to shift gears to welcome her visitor.

“I believe your organized escort delivered me safely at my doorstep,” she then teased with a raised eyebrow to mask her happiness at meeting him again.

He was glad she could not see his sheepish expression at that moment. Valandil did not bother to hide his grin, so Elendil grumbled in a low voice under his breath: “How long dit it take for her to see through the ruse?”

“Two seconds.” Valandil’s grin widened, and he shrugged as if saying ‘I told you so’.

“Ah, I see.”

“And I hope you also see that she is standing right here in front of you, before you keep on talking about me.” Míriel remarked wryly.

 “Pardon me, my Queen,” Elendil murmured demurely with a small smile while Valandil stepped aside to let his former superior pass him on the landing.

Elendil gave the young man’s shoulder a friendly pat. “Thank you, Valandil. Have a good night.”

“Good night Captain. My Queen,” the young man stated his good-bye and then started walking down the stairs, the echo of his footsteps slowly disappearing.

Together the queen and the captain entered Miriel’s chamber where a fire was blazing in the hearth. Míriel was glad about it, the night air was carrying a slight chill and having left her cloak on the bed she was happy about the warmth now. At least she knew that the fire would also spread some light. She wasn’t sure if her maids had lighted some candles, knowing she would not really need them.

“I’m glad you invited me. I had to see you.” Elendil stated in a low voice.

“Did you? And why?” Míriel asked teasingly and moved further into her chambers to close the door. She felt like a young girl again and the first time she secretly met with the son of one of the council members.

Being alone in her chambers with Elendil reminded her of the evening he had gifted her the beautifully crafted staff. They had become quite close that evening and it had cost both of them a lot of restraint to separate that night without succumbing to their feelings. Míriel wasn’t sure she could call up this restraint again today.

She felt his body move closer to her, the energy shifting around her, a tantalizing tension filling the air around them.

“Come,” he offered, and she stretched out her hand to meet his. “Warm up a bit in front of the fire. Your maids also left some wine, water and some fruit on the small table between the chairs.”

She turned towards him. “Is there enough light for you to see in here?” She asked with a husky voice.

“Yes, it is.”

Míriel left her staff next to her door to find it again easily as soon as she wanted to leave her chambers. Inside she had familiarized herself now enough to easily find her way. Still, she liked being guided by Elendil, to feel him near her, to touch him.

He gently placed her hand on the back rest of the right seat in front of the fire and seated himself in the other. Míriel slowly lowered herself into the comfortable chair.

She turned towards him and waved at the table “Help yourself.”

Míriel then slowly extended her hands towards the side table, feeling for a cup and the water pitcher. “Well? Why did you have to see me?”

Elendil watched her but did not interfere. He knew she would ask if she needed help. Finding the cup, she held it with her left hand and carefully placed the lip of the pitcher agains the rim, filling the cup halfway, her head slightly cocked as if listening to the sound of the water flowing into the cup.

Clearing his throat, he remembered belatedly to answer her question. Why did she always have to remind him, what was wrong with him? He berated himself. It felt like his brain was turning into mush every time he was near her, watching her like a lovesick puppy forgetting everything else around him.  

“I have heard rumors.” He managed after clearing his throat, while his gaze followed her hand as she lifted the cup to her lips to take a sip of water. A drop glistened on her lips, reflecting the warm light of the fire and Elendil felt heat fill his groins as Míriel flicked out her tongue to lick her lips.

“And…?” She prompted, seemingly unaware of the effect she had on him with that simple gesture.

“And…what?” He asked absently, his eyes still focused on her full lips, wondering if he ever got to kiss them.

Míriel placed the cup on the table with a slight ‘plonk’, her brows furrowed, a glint in her eyes he could not quite interpret.  

“What on earth is wrong with you, Elendil?”

“Apologies my Queen. I … eh… just got distracted.”

His queen raised a questioning eyebrow. “Distracted?” She asked drily. Míriel wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to know any more details about his ‘distraction’, feeling that if they went down that path, they would not be able to return.

She decided to turn his thoughts elsewhere by telling him about the conversation she had with Valandil. Summarizing what he had told her, she finished with the question that was burning in her soul. She knew that she was poking into a wasp nest and deliberately gentled her tone.

“Did you know that Eärien associated with my cousin and and one of his followers?” For the thousands time she wished to see his expression so she would know how he took her question. But she could only sit in her darkness, listening to his breathing or any other sound that might give anything away. Was he looking at her? Was he staring into the fire? Was he angry at her for asking that?

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she heard him take a deep breath. From the sound of it he was turned towards the fire.

Elendil stared into the flames as he collected his thoughts before he answered. “I…had some discussions with her. Already before we left for the Southlands. When that elf – Galadriel – appeared before the bough of our ship and I brought her onto our shores, my daughter asked me later that evening if I wanted to tempt fate. She could not understand that I had broken the old law of bringing one of the Eldar here. She could even understand less, why you would agree to follow her into a battle that was not ours to fight. When I also allowed Isildur to sign up and follow me – I think, that was what broke her.”

“With you and Isildur gone and the prospect of losing the rest of her immediate family for good, I honestly cannot blame her for being angry.” Míriel conceded.

Elendil sighed. He did not expect the queen to understand Eärien’s reasoning. “But I don’t understand how she can follow Ar-Pharazôn’s convictions, his speeches and his talks about a new world and a new future, turning so completely against the old faith which has supported us and carried us into prosperity for centuries. How can she and other people turn so completely away from it, away from our history?”

“Well, we have to put ourselves into the shoes of our opposition. It is no secret that my father's rule had almost plunged our island into civil war, I have to admit that. So, if you wanted to change the course of politics, wouldn’t you jump on that same train of thought and fight against the very thing that was cause of an impending war? Would you not focus on what steered us away and preserved our peace?”

“Yes, but what they don’t see is that this rift was only caused because we turned away from the old faith in the first place. Well, not we, king Tar-Ancalimon started this centuries ago. Until then, like I said, over ages we lived well and prospered.” He shook his head. “Your father did the only right thing he could do. And he saw what would happen if he did not follow that path.”

“Seeing and knowing is different to convincing others if they don’t have the same level of knowledge. Or experience.” Míriel answered wistfully. She turned towards the fire, feeling the warmth of it glowing on her cheeks. Then she whispered: “I saw it too.”

Elendil sucked in a sharp breath, looking at her profile, the light of the fire being reflected as golden flecks dancing in her beautiful brown eyes. For a moment he wondered what she was able to see when she looked into the flames, if she was able to discern anything at all.

“What do you mean, you saw it too? What did you see?”

Míriel shook her head as if dismissing her earlier words. “I cannot tell you. Not now.” She turned back to face him, reaching out her hand. Elendil took it into his own. “I do not know what and how things will change. Every action will cause the pattern to shift. But I know not which is the right action to take.” She wrinkled her forehead in confusion, seemingly lost in her thoughts, her hand slipping from the captain’s. Her thoughts were turning in circles, and she knew she would not come to a conclusion just now. And she knew she could not share her vision of the palantír with Elendil. Not yet.

Facing the fire again, Miriel confessed: “There was a time that I was wary of my father’s opinion, of his reasons and of his ways. I saw that following his path would divide our society further. Only when he showed me the reason why he was acting the way he did, I understood.”

She felt Elendil’s gaze on her profile and turned back to him. “Maybe you should understand the reason of your daughter. I mean, I grew up with my father’s beliefs and the way he saw things, so it was ingrained into my inner being from the first day. Still, being surrounded by my uncle and my cousin showed me another way of looking at things - please don’t get me wrong.” She raised her hands as if to stop him from saying something. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that I liked what I heard or what I saw, but it helped me understand and put things into perspective.”

Elendil sighed. “I will still not be able to convince her.”

“Not if you just contradict her. You need to open your mind to her cause. Only then you will find leverage with her.” Míriel’s voice was soft yet determined. She waited for him to say something, but when he only gave another deep sighed, she changed the topic. 

Then captain watched Míriel’s expression change and she slipped on the queen regent mask, hiding her feelings and thoughts. He knew that he was one of the very few she ever let peak beneath that mask she wore to perfection in public. But seeing her don it now, surprised him. He had settled in for a much longer discussion.

“Now, there are not many people who test their Regent’s patience as much as you do, Elendil. And there are not many people who get by with it. I am still waiting for your explanation. What rumors did you hear?” She delivered this with a stern look on her face and he wasn’t sure she knew, but her eyes met his for a brief moment and his heart skipped a beat, for a second thinking she could see him before her gaze dropped lower, settling somewhere on his cheek. But that brief moment, that second of contact ignited a fire in him he did not know it still existed.

At the same time, he felt selfish for reacting so intensely to something that she could not knowingly give or reciprocate. But until that moment he had not known how much it impacted him that she could not see him. Touch often replaced a look, and now it became so much more important, but he sometimes felt invisible if he did not speak or touched her. How lost and isolated must she feel in her darkness?

It cost him every ounce of self-restraint to focus back on her words.

“I… apologies my Queen. You are right. I should not try your patience any longer. Some of my sources across the city tell me that your cousin is becoming more aggressive in collecting his followers around him, speaking to them in half-secret meetings. Some say he might even grasp for the scepter and dethrone you.”

Elendil noticed how the lines of worry deepened on Míriel’s beautiful face. He tried to sooth her. “But these are rumors. We don’t know how much is actually true.”

“No need to placate me, Elendil. We both know that there is always a grain of truth in rumors. Besides, I have my own reports, and they confirm what you are saying. Pharazôn is planning something, for sure. By what Valandil overheard in the tavern, he or one of his … inner circle might have found a way to convince the masses even further. And I have yet to decide the best course on how to answer to that.” Having a suspicion of what it was that might have played into her cousin's hands, Míriel didn’t know if there was even a chance to outweigh his planned deceit. Or if this was even the right course to take.

Míriel reached for the cup of water again, her mouth feeling parched and dry and the desperation was forming a lump in her throat she could not give any further attention to. She took a couple of sips, feeling the cool water smooth the raspiness until the last sip got down the wrong way and she started coughing. Holding the back of her hand against her mouth she heaved, tears springing unbidden to her eyes. Absentmindedly she felt Elendil taking the cup out of her other hand, placing it on the table and… was he kneeling in front of her?

Elendil had jumped to his feet the moment Míriel started coughing. He grabbed her cup and made sure he placed it back on the exact spot where she had taken it from, before he helped her.

“Let me pat you on the back, that’ll help.” He said calmly and she nodded, still coughing. Míriel felt him reach around her, thumping his hand lightly on the spot between her shoulder blades. Finally, she felt some relief from the irritation the stray sip of water had caused. When she was able to suck some clear gulps of air into her lungs again, Elendil gently took her hands and pulled her up from the seat.

“Stand for a moment, it will help with the breathing,” he instructed, and she willingly followed his lead, feeling his steadying hands in her own.

They stood for a moment, unmoving and silent, until with a shaky hand Míriel wiped the tears away that had sprung unbidden from her eyes by coughing so hard.

“I’m sorry. The water got down the wrong way.” Her voice sounded still a little hoarse, but she managed to produce a small apologetic smile.

The day had been endlessly long and stressful, an emotional roller coaster ride and the queen regent felt all her energy had drained, the rest with the damned coughing fit.

They still stood close to each other and Elendil continued to hold her hand. She felt his breath on her skin, his unique and enticing scent filling her nose and for that short instant the world around her disappeared, together with all doubts, worries and politics. It was only them who existed in that moment.

“I’m so tired,” Míriel whispered, and her head seemed too heavy to hold it up on her own, so she let it sink down until it rested on the captain’s shoulder. She closed her eyes and wished that time would stand still. She wanted to banish their harsh reality from her thoughts, she wanted to feel save for once.

Now, as Míriel stood leaning against him, her head on his shoulder, Elendil felt like there was no other place he wanted to be in that moment. Her flowery scent reached his nostril and before he knew what he was doing he bent his head and kissed the crown of her head, softly wrapping his arms around her.

Both of them did not dare to move lest they would break the spell that held them so close.

Finally, Míriel lifted her head, and her gaze roamed his face as if trying to find him, trying to see in his expression what he was feeling. The insecurity that flitted across her face gave a pang at his heart. Had his kiss not assured her?

Well, it wasn’t necessarily a romantic kiss, he had kissed his children on the top of their head as well when they were younger. So partly he could understand her uncertainty.

He gently cupped her face and stroke her cheek with this thumb. Míriel leaned her face against his palm, relishing the touch.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Elendil then stated simply and bent down to capture her lips with his own, testing gently if she agreed or if she would shy away from the intimacy. He was beyond thinking anything further, only testing if his queen would join him on that chosen path.

Míriel closed her eyes when she felt his caress on her cheek and her body acted on its own accord, leaning into the tender touch, reveling in the closeness, in the intimacy she had not shared with another man for decades. She knew he would kiss her even before he said it and she eagerly awaited his lips, feeling something break free in her inner core that seemed to have been caged with an iron band.

The kiss ignited something in her chest, heated her cheeks and made her hand move towards Elendil’s face, trying to see with her fingertips what her eyes could not and utterly failed to form a coherent picture when their lips touched.

Oh, so softly he planted the kiss on her lips, as if tasting her, not wanting to scare her away like a butterfly. But he need not have feared, as she did not fade away, but pressed firmly against him, her hand in his hair, her body flush against his.

Their kiss intensified, sending sparks down Míriel’s spine, she felt herself press even further into Elendil’s tall body, while his arm wrapped tighter around her back and the fingers of his other hand slid up from the base of her neck into her hair.

Elendil wanted to take her fully into his arms and carry her to the bed, but held back, not wanting to rip the tender and passionate band that was weaving between them.

Finally, they broke apart and the captain sighed her name with a mixture of awe, love and uncertainty. He cupped her face again with his hands and leaned his forehead against hers.

“Míriel.”

He listened to her ragged breathing and noticed that he himself was slightly out of breath.

“If you ever want me to apologize for that transgression, I will never be able to do so. Neither will I ever regret it,” he whispered before she could utter any word.

Míriel slowly moved her head and tilted her face upwards. Then she raised her right hand and skimmed her fingers lightly across his features, a smile on her lips. She so much wanted to see the feelings in his eyes she could hear in his voice.

“I would never ask you to apologize for something that I also hoped for,” she whispered back. “How I wish we would live in a different world,” Míriel then added sadly.

Elendil chuckled softly. “In a different world we might have never met,” he then pointed out, his voice low and gentle.

“True,” she sighed and forced herself to take a small step back, immediately feeling bereft of his touch and warmth. But the regent in her knew they could not spend the night; they could not be seen together. The woman in her, however, wanted to hold on to the moment and the man, desperately so.

She felt torn between duty and passion, but in the end, duty won.

“It is getting late.” Elendil seemed to have sensed her inner struggle.

Míriel closed her eyes, before answering, as if she could shut out the harsh reality. “Yes, it is.”

He heard the sadness in her voice and could not help feeling a sense of loss when she let her hand glide down his arm and dropped her hand besides her body.  It had felt so right, so perfect the way she fitted into his arm, the way she tasted and the way her body melted into his. It felt like – after an eternity of being alone – that he had finally found his haven.

He could not leave like that, not without getting some kind of reassurance that they would meet again, that this was not just a ‘spur of the moment’ thing. Even though his heart told him that it was not, that it was indeed something deeper, something sacred and that she felt similarly. He had seen it in her face, had felt it in her touch and in her kiss.

“I will meet you in the morning,” he simply stated and watched her reactions closely.

“Yes,” she breathed and wore a hopeful smile.

“Then I shall escort you to court.” He decided not caring for any protocol, though he knew he would have to wait downstairs for her.

She inclined her head. “I would like that very much.”

“I’ll be there.” He reached for her hand and gently placed a kiss into her palm, feeling the soft skin brushing against his lips. “Good night, Míriel.”

He slowly lowered her hand, but she grabbed his and held it for a moment longer before letting it go.

“Good night, Elendil. May the stars guide your way home.”

He moved away before he would succumb to his feelings and pull her back into his arms again.

Míriel turned towards his receding footsteps and waited until the soft click of the door reached her ears. Only then did she dare to move, to break the spell that still enveloped her.

Her foot touched the satchel she had placed absentmindedly next to her chair when she had entered her chambers with Elendil and the jingling pulled her out of her reverie.  

The clinking of the bridle inside reminded her of her homework. It would help her to distract herself from her wandering mind. She was too agitated to sleep now anyway, her thoughts wandering back to the conversation with Valandil and then Elendil. But much as she tried, she couldn’t shield herself from remembering the kiss they had shared. The kiss that had taunted them for so long, when neither of them had dared to follow their feelings, when neither of them had thought the other one was wishing the same, until finally status and politics did not bear any weight anymore.

She would meet him again in the morning. This knowledge gave her peace. Even though it would be amongst the other court members, knowing him close, was all she needed for now.

The tips of her fingers touched her lips, as if they could help her recall the feeling of Elendil’s lips on her own. By the Valar, was she truly losing her heart? She just hoped the man who held it in his palm knew that, even though it was beyond love what connected them. They were bound by their faith and their believes, their hopes and experiences, their losses and their sacrifices. But love made it all just so more bearable. At least for the moment.