The Eye of His Dark Majesty

Whispers of Kings

The sun had risen over Númenor when I finally ventured out into the winding streets, the gentle warmth of dawn washing over me like a soothing balm after a night filled with unsettling thoughts. My senses stirred, awakening to the aroma of warm bread and fragrant blossoms blending with the briny scent of the nearby sea. The lively hues of the merchants' stalls seemed to promise happiness, yet a heavy burden of my looming responsibilities weighed on my heart. I had left the house later than I intended, the lingering tension from my confrontation with Ereclion making every moment feel stretched and fraught with unease.

"Morena!" called a cheerful voice, and I turned to find Maelis, the widow from down the street, her hands flour-dusted and a smile brighter than the sun itself. "You look lovely this morning! You must come to dinner. My son just returned from the East and is eager to meet you."

"Thank you, Maelis, but I—"

"Oh, don't be shy! I assure you, Elric is a fine young man. You'd make a wonderful match," she insisted, nudging me playfully as she waved a hand toward her son, who was standing nearby, blushing and awkwardly shuffling his feet. I could see the hopeful gleam in her eyes, but my heart was far from the prospect of courtship.

I offered a polite smile and continued on my way, navigating past the giggling young women, all of them blushing as they glanced at returning soldiers, dressed in their worn leather armor and with tales of glory etched on their faces. Some spoke of conquests and others of losses, but all were united by the threads of bravery and valor, their bond evident in the shared glances and camaraderie that filled the air.

Then, I spotted Eärien, Isildur's sister, standing beside a fountain adorned with intricately carved designs. Her auburn hair gleamed in the sunlight, and despite the distance we'd grown apart over the years, the warmth of familiarity washed over me as I approached.

"Rena!" she called, her voice lilting like a song. "It's been too long friend. Come, let's walk."

We strolled along the cobblestone path, the laughter of children ringing in our ears. The years had transformed us; I could see the strength of her spirit reflected in her eyes, and yet, I sensed a fragility underneath. "How is your brother?" she asked, glancing sideways at me. "I hope he is well."

"He's... adjusting," I said cautiously, unsure of how to reveal the tumultuous nature of Ereclion's return and the shadows that lingered around him.

"I heard he fought valiantly. Such bravery!" Eärien's eyes sparkled with admiration, but there was an underlying sadness in her tone. "I must confess, I've always thought he was quite dashing."

I laughed, trying to lighten the mood. "Perhaps you'll be the one to win his heart, then."

Her laughter faded, replaced by a thoughtful frown. "I worry he's seen too much... more than we can understand."

As we continued to talk, Eärien brought up the whispers circulating through the town. "Have you heard about that Halbrand?" she asked, leaning closer as if sharing a secret. "People are saying he's not just a foreigner but the rightful heir to the throne of the Southlands."

My heart quickened at the mention of him. It seemed I really could not escape him. "The king? But... how? If he came from royalty surely we'd have known about it sooner."

"Maybe but his people died. I don't think he'd be too quick to assert himself on any throne. Besides I've heard he displayed extraordinary skill with a sword the other day," Eärien continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "And now, the Queen intends to bestow upon him the title of king."

A tide of conflicting emotions washed over me. Halbrand's charm and ease had drawn Ereclion to him and the rest of Numenor it seemed. Yet I couldn't shake the apprehension that accompanied my thoughts of him. Was it possible that the man I had deemed a threat was now being heralded as royalty? My skepticism battled with the rising curiosity. "What do you think of him?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.