Pharazon shrugs and goes along with her.

The inn is the largest building in town, and the attached stables are almost as big. This is the last stop on the coastal road before Almas, and it sees regular traffic from everyone who can't take a ship - drovers going to the big city, people with horses or carriages, everyone who lives too far west to take ship at Triela or who can't afford anything but walking. 

All the travelers left early in the morning and the evening's visitors are still hours away; the staff is busy cleaning, but the innkeeper is there to greet them and offer food and lodging. He's heard that these people don't speak Taldane but the language of inns and coins is universal, and pointing at things is easy since the menu is not very long - there'll be more available in the evening.

Would they like a single room, or separate?

It looks hugely rustic compared to the inns she's seen in Numenor itself, or Pelargir, or even what she imagines those would be like when they haven't been cleaned up for a royal progress.  But, she wasn't expecting anything else.  It's an inn.

"Separate.  We're not married yet."

... if ever.  They've left all the political issues back in Arda.  Which leaves - does she want to marry him?

She doesn't know how to answer that now.

Pharazon nods.  "Separate is fine."

Certainly! Which is to say, they're cleaning and airing the rooms right now but they'll be ready soon. (This is hard to mime but easy to point out as the woman doing the cleaning moves through.) 

Meanwhile the guests are welcome to eat and drink. There will be a bath available for (well-paying) guests but, again, only later in the evening, the cistern needs to be refilled from the stream and the fire isn't lit.

Pharazon asks for the words for each thing they indicate (repeating the Adunaic), trying to remember them.  "I wish I had some paper," he mentions to Miriel.  "I didn't think to bring any for a walk by the sea..."

Miriel laughs.  "I would've brought many things if I'd known where we were really going!"

"Or walked somewhere else."

Miriel bows her head with a sharp laugh.

The idea that she's gotten away from Numenor and her responsibilities there, trying vainly to bring the Kingdom somewhere they didn't want to go -

- well, she might've wanted to leap for that snake.

Pharazon notices she's hiding something, but he doesn't know her well enough to know what.

He gets up and tries to ask (by mime) for some paper and a pen.

It's an unusual request - guests who want to write things down normally carry their own paper and writing kits - but he can have a few pages, and a quill pen and use of an inkpot. It'll go on his tab, though at few pages it's not really expensive, just unusual. Luckily, the innkeeper isn't busy right now and has time to source a few unusual requests for guests who'd have a hard time buying their own in town!

Pharazon fingers the quill curiously.  He's seen them in old pictures, but he hasn't ever used one before.

The ink drips onto the paper, before he scratches what can vaguely be made out as a splotchy tengwa.

"Let me try?"

Miriel is a little better at it, but only a little.

"Now I know why our ancestors invented pens..."

Not to worry! Many people can't write well (or at all), even if they're rich! (The innkeeper doesn't say this.)

After finally scratching out phonetic tengwar spellings of a few Taldane words, Pharazon is at the end of his patience.  He throws down the quill.  "I'm going outside."

Miriel doesn't mind the idea of some time away from him.  She picks up the quill.  "Let me know if you see another mirror-snake."

She's not coming?  Well, he's tired of being inside anyway.  He bustles out and heads in the direction of the sea.

The shore is less than half a mile from the town. The grass grows almost to the waterline, with only a narrow strip of sand. There are little fish swimming in the stream that passes through Fedele and white seabirds wheeling overhead. They look like gulls but don't sound quite like them, and everything is just a little bit off for any one of the lands he's seen before.

The sea is calm enough for a swim, but there are dark clouds in the distance.

And far away, he can see... well, he can't see; that's the problem.

Maybe the Valar-empowered woman will have an explanation for him tomorrow.  Maybe he'll like the explanation.

He's not expecting that.

He was fairly sure he was going to be King of Numenor, and now --

The seagulls scream back at him; the sea keeps lapping placidly at the shore.

He looks around again - fortunately, no person's in sight to see him screaming.

All right.  He's here.  He's still a Numenorian, a son of Earendil the Morning Star, and of Beren and Luthien who defied the Valar themselves to gain a new life together.  He can make something of himself here too.

... make something with Miriel too, if she'll still marry him, and if he still wants to marry her.  Which he thinks he does.

He walks back into town, looking for clues to what sort of country they're in, or for a boy who might be willing to teach him a little of the local language.