And at last Ar-Pharazôn came even to Aman, the Blessed Realm, and the coasts of Valinor; and still all was silent, and doom hung by a thread.
For Ar-Pharazôn wavered at the end, and almost he turned back.
His heart misgave him when he looked upon the soundless shores and saw Taniquetil shining, whiter than snow, colder than death, silent, immutable, terrible as the shadow of the light of Ilúvatar.
But pride was now his master, and at last he left his ship and strode upon the shore, claiming the land for his own, if none should do battle for it.
And a host of the Númenóreans encamped in might about Túna, whence all the Eldar had fled.