CHAPTER 1

"They say a strange mood has taken over the Queen today. That she looks to the North and sighs." His voice filled the silence that the whispering of branches and green leaves couldn´t quite dispel. Soon it turned provocative. "She has finally succumbed to the eccentricity of her people, worthy daughted of the Eldar, and went to talk to the plants."

Arwen laughed and tilted her head to let her husband kiss it. Aragorn sat by her side in the stone bench.

"I speak with the East wind," she corrected him.

"And what does it say?"

"Nothing. It comes alone."

Aragorn sighed silently and turned his gaze to the Pelennor Fields, hundreds of feet below them. Arwen studied the creases of his forehead and his distracted eyes.

"Didn´t the session go well?"

"Dol Amroth and Lebenning are thrilled with the species and the fruits from Harad. With the chocolate especially. They are already preparing another trade agreement."

"Why that face then?"

"There has been another attack."

Arwen frowned, copying her husband´s expression. It was the third attack of Rhun's forces that winter. North Ithilien and Anorien were on the edge of despair. The evacuations had already started. Minas Tirith had taken in most of those who hadn´t been able to live with the fear.

"And what…?"

Aragorn answered before she could finish the question.

"Two burnt houses, five dead men, stolen grain stock… and two men and a girl have disappeared."

Disappeared in Rhun's slave market. With those three, it had already claimed thirty men and women from Gondor. But neither of them said anything. It was one of the aspects of that issue that most worried Aragorn. "It must be one of the worst fates for a man born free," he had said to his wife after the first attack, upon learning the fate of some citizens of Cair Andros, disappeared as well. "Imagine the indignity of being sold like an animal. Being someone´s property and obey his will in everything. Never see your loved ones again… and be unable to decide your own fate."

Arwen had insisted that they should do something for those people, order the Khan to free them or risk a war with Gondor. But they had never discussed their fate.

"More troops must be sent," said Arwen.

"I have already given the order. Tomorrow two more companies will leave" said Aragorn, and went silent.

Ah, but Arwen knew her husband too well and knew there was more. He looked at him waiting for the rest of the story. Aragorn, feeling her gaze, said:

"Each time more and more are in favour of the war. They say it is time to stop being two steps behind Rhun and that we cannot allow one more attack. That we have to send the army."

"But you are not yet certain."

Aragorn shook his head.

"I would do anything to spare Gondor any more attacks but we don´t know yet that the Khan is behind the attacks. He may still uphold our Peace Treaty and the attackers may be rebels. If I bring them war, I will cause more death and destruction than necessary."

"And doesn´t the Council think of the lost lives in case of war?" Arwen asked, puzzled.

"Yes," her husband answered. "Of course they do, but they think that it would be a war that we would win easily, that our army is superior in both discipline and techniques and that they have more to lose. And they are the lives of our enemies. Rhun has always been an evil for Gondor; many families are broken thanks to them. And they are right. Who would choose to save the lives of his enemies and condemn his people?"

Aragorn turned his gaze towards the East. The dark mountains of Mordor could be seen In the horizon, and beyond was the incandescent Rhun, with its deserts of fire, its palm trees and cypress with their smell of the sea breeze and juicy fruits, with its children running happy in the sand. And also with its streets and fields filled with slaves surrounded by their ragged and shabby prole that waited to be older to follow their parents to the same fate of slavery. But even they elevated their voices in songs of honour to that land. Rhun was the country of the blinding sun that inundated everything with energy, that only needed a small spark to erupt and let all of its hatred for Gondor escape. Those were his most vivid memories of his journey to that land. It was the home of his enemies, those who were killing and selling his people. And he was doing barely nothing, through his inaction he was allowing it. What if he sent the army? What if he brought them war, and through a total defeat forced them to stop attacking Anorien, and Cair Andros, and North Ithilien? What if he had already done it? How many lives could he have saved?

Arwen guessed quickly his thoughts. A dozen years of marriage had made her the greatest expert on the mind of the King. She held firmly his face and said:

"These attacks are not your fault."

"I know. Someone has to think about those poor people if the Khan doesn't. If in the end it turns out he is behind the attacks."

"Your ambassador will have to tell us when he comes back."

Aragorn nodded absently. Amdil had departed for Num in November. His mission was to reach the Khan himself and demand an explanation and reparation for the attacks on Gondor. Verify that he still honoured his part of the Peace Treaty, in which case he would punish the attackers and return the stolen people to their country. Aragorn had decided not to ask for monetary reparation for the stolen food or the destroyed properties. It wasn't a life or death matter for Gondor, but it could very well be for Rhun, that in many provinces was bordering poverty and knew hunger too well. But for that he needed Amdil to come back and tell him that the Khan didn't sanction the attacks. He had set off with diplomatic protection; his safety should be respected in all of Rhun's roads.

But it was mid-February and they had no news from him. He had, in all likelihood, perished. Rhun's hatred for Gondor was like a violent fire, and any traveller from Gondor was in danger in its roads. Nevertheless, formally, they still had a Peace Treaty signed after the fall of Sauron. Formally, Amdil's safety must be guaranteed and the Khan receive him with due hospitality. However, in all likelihood, he had never reached Num, and had been killed or enslaved on the road, or the Khan had never received him, in which case, Aragorn would have to consider it an act of war. And yet, he wasn't ready to give up hope of his return.

"Will you come tomorrow to the Council session?" He answered his wife instead. "They are more willing to calm down and change their minds when you speak."

Arwen smiled, leaning on his shoulder. Every new attack to Gondor was like a dagger to her heart, but thinking that she would have to let her husband go to war was almost more than she could bear.

"Of course," she answered.

Aragorn put his arm around her. His hand rested on her waist and his thumb caressed briefly, unconsciously, Arwen's stomach, who suddenly understood. Of course. The talk of war, and the possibility that the King could risk his life would have, inevitably, led the minds of the Council to the lack of heir to the throne, and to comments that had, years ago, stopped being discreet hints. One nobleman, with the best of intentions and glass of wine in hand, had dared to give the King a multitude of suggestions to impregnate his wife. The blessed topic had even made its way to one memorable Council session that Aragorn had left enraged.

"They have said something again." Arwen sat up and looked to her husband.

"About what?"

"Our child. Or lack thereof."

"How...?"

"We said we would pay no mind to what was said. Let them be in a hurry, not us."

"I'm not in a hurry anymore than you."

Arwen smiled and pointed her finger at him. "Well played, Dunadan."

And there was a good portion of the problem: they were both impatient; but they would rarely say it out loud to avoid putting any pressure on the other.

"When they'll come, they'll come," Aragorn said. The sentence they have been repeating for years. But this time it seemed he had made a small change.

"They? How many will come?"

"Five or six."

Arwen laughed, with only a hint of panic on her voice. "Obviously, it's not you giving birth to them."

"They'll come when they come," he repeated, and then smiled looking at her. "Which doesn't mean we have to wait for them idly."

And suddenly, Arwen was in his arms and he had turned in the direction of the Tower.

"Now?" Arwen gasped. "But if we didn't even have dinner and..."

But he didn't let her continue, and started climbing the stairs that led to the terrace that opened from their rooms.

Aragorn had always kept open the sessions of the Council. Lords of all regions and fiefs of Gondor, and governors and mayors of even the smallest village could at any time attend or send representatives to the Court and participate actively in any Council session. For one to be held, it was necessary that at least a dozen chiefs claimed it. That day twenty five asked for it, and it was necessary to get installed in the Throne Room.

Aragorn walked in with the Queen in his arm, and immediate silence ensued. Imrahil and Elmir, Lord of Anorien, sitting respectively to the right and left of the head of the table, where Aragorn sat, withdrew the chairs from the table and offered them to Arwen.

She went to the right and took the chair that Imrahil offered. She ran her eyes over all the twenty five participants with a dazzling smile.

"Gentlemen. It has been too long since the last time I joined your councils and thought it was time to rectify it."

"It is an honour, Lady, as always," said Imrahil moving the seat next to hers.

"I am certain that, as in my previous experiences, we will reach important agreements for the Kingdom, thanks to the wisdom and honour of its chief mandataries."

Maybe only an outside observer would have noticed the slightly straighter backs, or the eyes oozing pride, but Aragorn knew what to expect and perceived the change immediately. He hid a smile. He knew that the Council would always respect his final decision, whatever it was, but he wanted them to understand his reasons. And for that, nothing better than to let Arwen speak to them. Every word she said was received by the men like a drop of water in the desert, and they always bowed to her desires.

For Aragorn, it was truly a pity that Arwen didn't participate more in the Council sessions. She had more experience, wisdom and eloquence than all of them put together. After her thousands of years in those lands, she knew more about good ruling, commercial routes, taxes, treaties and agreements than any. Elrond's daughter had helped her father for hundreds of years, and apart from his knowledge, she had inherited his compassion and his justice. In Aragorn's opinion, Arwen alone would have ruled Gondor much better than any King in its history.

But despite Aragorn's insistence, she rarely got involved in government discussions. "I have a few, precious years with you," she said, "and I think it is a waste to lock myself for hours to argue. As far as I have seen, most of the discussions of Men in times of peace are about how to reach this or that other goal, and amidst all the fervour, you forget that deep down you all want to reach the same goals."

And since she had nothing to prove to anyone, and she knew it, only when it was about Healing or Lore she would step in so the past wasn't forgotten and to ensure the future of both sciences in Gondor. But she never refused her husband when he asked for advice, which was often, and the Council didn't know how many of the ideas and projects they discussed were really hers, that reached them through the King.

Suddenly Aragorn realised that they were all waiting for him to sit down to start the session, but he looked to his wife so she was the first to sit down. No man would be sitting while she was standing.

As soon as they were all seated, Aragorn turned to his secretary.

"The order of the day, Amrod. Thank you."

As soon as he read it Aragorn felt the first stab of premonition. This would not end peacefully.

"Rhun," he said out loud. There was no other topic. "Has there been any news?"

"No, Sire," answered Elmir. "Nothing apart from the last attack."

"But we believe that yesterday much was left unsaid," added Caerdhros, son of the governor of Cair Andros. His town was the most damaged by Rhun's incursions, and though it was the first time he set foot on the Court, he had enough aplomb to state his opinion firmly in every Council session.

"Like what?" said Aragorn.

"We are deeply grateful for the reinforcements that you sent, Lord, to strengthen the Northern borders, but we fear it is not enough."

"They always attack during the night and by surprise, and it is very difficult to foresee their assaults," Elmir intervened. Anorien had also been a victim of the attacks. "Defensive actions are not enough. No matter how fast we react, there are always damages: a destroyed house, reserves of food stolen or, in the worst cases, dead sentries, missing people... If we don't react more decisively, they will think that they can attack us with impunity, and they won't stop doing it."

"A more decisive reaction," said Aragorn, "would be to take the army to their lands. An armed invasion would make the last of their men able to carry weapons come out and meet us in combat; and right they would. How many would die then? From Rhun and Gondor; we would both lose."

"Before solving a conflict with the aid of the army," said Arwen, and her soft voice spread across the room like a breeze, "we must explore all the other possibilities. Gondor and Rhun have still a Peace Treaty. As far as we know, these attacks are made by rebels. In fact, their clothes and weapons don't indicate that they are soldiers in the service of the Khan. They would seem radicals possessed by an irrational hatred towards Gondor, or people in need, or they wouldn't steal food.

Arwen made a pause to let everyone think on her words.

"That is an aspect that we cannot forget," she continued firmly. "In the last two years Rhun has suffered severe draughts that have damaged their harvests. The last reports said that in the poorest regions, where they barely had reserves of grain and cereals, the children and the elderly have begun to starve. A war would increase these problems; if men go to battle, who would sow and harvest? If we bring them war, the roads and communications would close down, trade would diminish, and the regions with no crop fields and that depend on the harvests of the rest of the country would be left without supplies, without food. Innocent people.

Her delicate features were filled with commiseration. Her silver earrings sparkled on both sides of her head, making the glow of her eyes penetrate on the hearts of her listeners, and all felt invaded by sympathy.

"The Queen speaks wisely," said at last the Lord of Lossarnach. "We must think on the lives lost in case of war. If we don't care to think about the population of Rhun, let's think on our soldiers. Shall we send them hastily to their deaths and condemn their families to grieve?

He had a son in the Fourth Company, and all in the Council knew it. But still, they saw sense in his words.

"In my opinion, it is a matter of knowing where the Khan stands," said Imrahil. "If he has allowed, even encouraged the attacks, we cannot fail to respond. But if he is against them, then undoubtedly bringing them war would be a tremendous mistake."

"You are right, Imrahil," said Aragorn. "That's why I sent an ambassador."

"But he hasn't come back," Caerdhros said. "And he should have already. We should at least have received word from him if he had been received by the Khan, especially if he is still in favour of keeping the Peace Treaty."

There were murmurs of approval to his words.

"We cannot know that with certainty," said Aragorn, but even to his ears his words had lost conviction.

"And neither have we heard from our spies in Rhun?"

That the King had spies in Rhun was a badly kept secret. In fact, Aragorn didn't believe that even the Khan ignored it. But who and where they were and what were their identities only Aragorn knew. And he wasn't going to say it, but he hadn't had word from them in months, which meant that two of them had failed to deliver their report.

"No," he answered. And he was going to say more, but in that moment, against the protocol that forbade interrupting a Council's session, the doors of the room opened.

And like conjured up from his words, Damrod, spy in the service of Elessar, walked in.

Aragorn got up brusquely and crossed with big strides the room to meet his man, dirty with the road's dust, grey-faced and with darkened cheeks, covered by a tangled beard that didn't hide the emaciation of his gaunt features.

As soon as he reached him, Damrod began to bow, but Aragorn stopped him.

"Don't even think about it," he said. "Are you all right, my friend? Are you wounded?"

"No, just more exhausted than I can remember."

"What do you bring me?" asked Aragorn with apprehension.

Damrod reached inside his jacket pocket and drew a piece of paper. Aragorn took it and read it.

Meanwhile, the Council looked at them, trying to guess who that man was and why the King attended to him so urgently. But not even Arwen knew him and she shook her head to those who looked at her expecting an explanation.

When the whisperings of the Council rose in volume, Aragorn turned to them and walked back to the table, letting Damrod lean on his arm. He signalled that he should sit down on an empty chair at one end of the table, but he remained standing.

The Council fell silent, waiting the King's explanation, but Aragorn didn't say anything, studying the paper for a few more minutes. At last, he said these words:

"Gentlemen, this is Damrod, who I sent years ago to Rhun so that he could, from the shadows, gather information, and inform me, of all the movements in that country's politics. Listen now to the contents of this letter that he intercepted from a messenger of the Khan himself."

"In Num, on the 19th of fie of the twelfth year.

Honoured Soldam, First Captain of Rhun's Glorious Army,

I am pleased by your news, and I rejoice in learning the devotion of our soldiers. Encourage these feeling and we will have an unstoppable force in battle.

At last the hour of glory approaches. Tonight light the fires, drink and celebrate because your wait is over. Go to the Valley of Sat and wait for us there. We will arrive at the end of next month at the latest. And then we will march together and triumph.

May the Great Eye guide your steps.

Hamrazan, Khan of All Rhun."

For several minutes, silence reigned in the Room. It was Elmir who broke it.

"This is the proof that we needed. The Khan is mobilising his troops to invade Gondor. We have to react. We must go and meet them."

"He nowhere mentions Gondor," said Aragorn sternly. "And first we must listen to Damrod's tale before drawing any conclusions. Tell us, how did you intercept this message?"

"Sire," answered Damrod bowing his head. "Twenty days ago, my identity in Num was exposed and I was arrested. Only the help of a good friend saved me. He got me out of the city, but he could not give me a horse, without which I could never cross Rhun's desert, alone and with barely any food or water. After a day's march, I assaulted a rider to steal his. Only upon mounting and getting ready to leave I realised that it was a messenger in the service of the Khan. I searched him and found this message. I came here as fast as I could."

Daedhros of Cair Andros stood up.

"Have you infiltrated Num itself? Then you must know what the Khan intends, if we consider that this letter is not proof enough."

Damrod looked at him. How little that boy knew the effort it required to learn a drop of information in Rhun's merciless desert! And he dared to demand something from him?

"Do you think the Khan speaks before someone other than his closest councillors?" he answered. "When they gather, no one can come in, not even the slaves to serve them. And he severely punishes those who let something slip. How do you think I could learn anything of what he intends?"

Daedhros wasn't intimidated by his fury.

"One would think that a spy has more resources and that even if he can't hear, he can still see. There are always behaviours that give away."

He spoke with the impetuousness of youth and concern for his town, and his words came out from his lips like an accusation. Then Damrod, who for years had been hiding his feelings, lying and pretending that his loyalty was with Rhun and burying his feelings for Gondor in the depths of his heart, where no one could see but where it hurt to hide them, stood up and with vibrant voice said:

"Would you like me to tell you what I have seen? I have seen the signs and paintings they make in Rhun's walls of the Tree surrounded by flame; I have seen the performances by their actors in the city's squares, dressing up as soldiers of Gondor and as..." he hesitated for a moment and looked at Aragorn, but decided to continue: "as thee, Sire, and they perform our defeat before the cries of glee of the spectators." Then he stopped. Maybe he had gone too far and been disrespectful to the King. "I'm sorry, Sire, I..."

But Aragorn stopped his apologies with a gesture and motioned for him to continue.

"I have seen," Damrod continued, "how each year the temple in honour of He that we saw forever destroyed takes form. And they burn part of their harvests and the meat from their animals to please him and ask for his help to recover the glory that Gondor stole from them. To their eyes, we are guilty of all their misfortunes.

"If they do that only, I at least would be at ease," Imrahil said. "For little can their superstitions harm us."

"Once a year," said Damrod with hard voice, "they ask all the owners of Gondorian slaves to give up one for their sacrifice. They kill them before the temple, in front of everyone."

Silence fell and no one found the words to break it. Until then Aragorn had remained impassive: he knew Rhun's practices and the reawakening of the cult to Sauron, and his spies had informed him of the rising hatred against Gondor and against himself. They considered them, and him in particular as merciless conquerors full of power lust. They had defeated Sauron, who had promised them riches and glory, that Rhun would be the great empire at whose feet the entire world would kneel overwhelmed by a reverential fear; and now they were crawling in misery. The draughts of the last years had awoken their fear and despair. But Rhun's was a people too proud to be dominated by fear for long, and rage had been born from fear. And the fury had fed the fire of hatred for Gondor and its King.

But Aragorn had never heard that Rhun made those human sacrifices, and the Council saw his face contort and pale, and they started to whisper.

"Do we need more evidence, Sire?" said Elmir out loud. "The army..."

But Aragorn didn't let him continue.

"Do you know anything of their armed forces?" he asked, turning to Damrod. "Where or how many they are? Something that indicates that the khan is amassing them to invade us?"

Damrod sat then and, full of shame, fixed his eyes in the solid, dark table before him.

"I'm sorry, Sire, no. Nothing more than I have already said."

"Where did you find the messenger?

"In the mountains of Num. He was heading West."

Aragorn looked at the letter. Go to the Valley of Sat and wait for us there. We will arrive at the end of next month at the latest. The Valley of Sat was a great expanse of flat land fifty miles to the northeast of Gondor's border. Someone who wanted to travel between any point in Rhun to Gondor would almost necessarily have to pass through there, or very close. It was an excellent place for the Khan to reunite his army if he wanted to invade Gondor.

"Answering your question, Elmir," said the King at last. "Yes. We need more information. Give me a day. And tomorrow at this time I will have made my decision. This session has ended."

And saying this, without waiting for anyone's response, he strode to the door. Little by little, the Council members did the same and exited the room. Arwen walked amongst them, answering their greetings, until she reached Damrod, who immediately stood up.

"Damrod," she said, "come with me. You will be a guest in our house. I will order immediately for a room to be prepared for you and food to be sent."

"Lady, don't bother on my account," answered Damrod, but he followed the Queen until they encountered a black-clad servant that had walked to them.

Arwen gave him instructions to provide to Damrod all he could need, and then asked:

"Did you see where the King went?"

"He walked in the direction of your rooms, Lady."

"Very well, thank you," answered Arwen, starting to head off that way. However, she turned back for the last time to Damrod and said: "We are in your debt for the services you have given. As soon as we find the right moment, you will receive just honours."

Damrod opened his mouth to answer but Arwen had already gone. She walked quickly to the rooms that she shared with Aragorrn and she found him in the dressing room, changing his clothes. His rich silk and satin robes formed a dark stain on the floor, and he had put on riding pants.

"Arwen, do you know where are my brown tunics?"

"With your leather clothes. All your comfortable clothes," that's how he called them, the clothes he used when he ventured out of the city, although Arwen knew that he preferred the contact of his silk ones, "are here."

Arwen took one from the chest and gave it to him.

"Where are you going?"

Aragorn put on the tunic silently, slowly.

"I need a day of retirement," he answered.

Arwen nodded her approval. He would go to the mountain, to the sanctuary of the Kings, whose use Aragorn had recovered.

"I thought you were going to look into the Palantir."

Aragorn looked at her with a smile. Arwen wouldn't have been so direct before. Before, when she hadn't learned the value of time, when she didn't know what it was the haste and urgency to carry out a multitude of tasks in a time that slipped through the fingers, her conversations would go round and round in circles until they reached carefully a difficult topic. And the use of the Palantir was one. They argued about that almost always. When Aragorn looked into it, he ended up exhausted, dizzy, his mind assaulted by an agonising whirlwind. The memory of the evil the stone had hosted remained still, and he had his own terrifying memory of Sauron himself pouring all his malice in him. He tried to conceal the fear he still felt, but Arwen was witness of his nightmares and she said that any information he could gain wasn't worth it, that the usual sources were enough. Aragorn said the contrary but he used it less and less.

He finished dressing up and stepped close to his wife, kissing her firmly. Each day he felt closer to her. She had learned to love him in so many ways. Now, and without looking, she set straight the lacings of his tunic, caressed his chest and raised her hands to his neck, holding him when she felt he was going to move away.

When at last the kiss ended, Aragorn, keeping a slight smile in his lips, said:

"Maybe I'll have to use it when I come back."

Arwen frowned and stepped back.

"I suppose you know what is best."

And they said little more. Aragorn walked to the back of their rooms, where a green tapestry of northern valleys and forests hung. It hid a small door that could only be opened from the outside with a key. To the right, over the mantelpiece, behind some books, was the key. When Aragorn had showed her the door, which led to an exit in the mountains, Arwen had said that the key didn't have the best of hiding places. But they hadn't thought of a better one.

They said good bye with a quick kiss and Aragorn, taking a lamp, went into the narrow passage which, a mile and a half later, would end in the southern slope of Mount Mindolluin.

This is a translation of my original, Spanish story, which is way more advanced but not yet finished. English is not my first language, so any mistakes reported, as well as opinions are more than welcome! I hope you enjoy reading the story as much as I have writing it.