The King's chamber was a bastion of power, yet into its gilded silence stepped a figure who seemed to possess an even greater, though subtle, authority. He moved with a quiet elegance, his dark robes flowing about him, his face a study in calm wisdom and profound insight. His eyes, keen and intelligent, seemed to gauge the very depths of Ar-Pharazôn's thoughts.

"My Lord," he began, his voice a low, melodious hum, perfectly pitched to soothe and enthrall. There was no subservience in it, only a deep respect for power that he aimed to redirect. "I observed your contemplation just now, and indeed, the weight of the world must press heavily upon even a king as formidable as yourself."

He took a measured step closer, his gaze unwavering, yet devoid of direct challenge. A knowing, almost conspiratorial smile played on his lips. "But tell me, my King, do you not sometimes feel the walls of this island grow too confining for the reach of your ambitions? Do you not sense a greater destiny awaiting Númenor, a dominion far beyond these shores, far beyond even the grasp of those who dwell in the Uttermost West?"

His tone became more intimate, as if revealing a profound secret. "I have pondered this vision, my King, and I perceive the whispers of a power that can truly make you master of all. A power that can conquer the very last enemy, the one all mortals dread. I am merely a humble servant of knowledge, but I believe I can illuminate the path to this ultimate sovereignty. Would you care to speak of such boundless possibilities, my King? For time, as we both know, waits for no one."