PART II: Exposition – Characters, Take Your Places

"They call you Strider."

He looked up from his position against the wall, where a public execution was taking place. "So they do," he replied, warily. "And what do they call you?"

"Kuro." The other man had long, golden hair spilling over his shoulders. Surprisingly, though he was definitely no Númenórean, he was as tall as Strider, mayhap even a little taller.

"I have not heard of you, Kuro," he carefully said. Kuro was an Easterling name, yet this man was no Easterling.

"Few have." His blue eyes gleamed a little.

The screams of the condemned drew their attention. "Disgusting, is it not?" he said with distaste. "One would think that a death would be quick."

"Many would not agree with you," Strider said.

"And you would agree?"

"I believe in justice."

"Justice is a word they use for an excuse."

"I think it would do you well to watch your words," he said, "For we do not take light strangers who have different ideas."

A soft chuckle that was oddly light. "And what about the Orcs?"

"It is not a matter that I involve myself with."

"Strider. A man who gets the job done with no ties, no questions, nothing."

"I see you know of me quite well."

Kuro merely tipped his head to one side. "I know more than that, too." He leaned a little closer. "The Elves call you…Hope, do they not?"

His hand, which had drifted to the pommel of his sword, tightened on the hilt. "And who says?" His voice was still low and even, honed by years of living in anonymity.

"You do not deny it."

"And neither do I acknowledge it."

"Would you believe me if I said I can be a friend?"

He considered it for a moment. "No," he finally replied. An informant or ally, perhaps. But a friend? He would do good to avoid close friendships lest that become a hindrance.

"A disappointment." Kuro sighed. "What if I brought you news from home?"

"I have no home."

"No home?" A raised eyebrow. "Your former home."

He did not reply. The sounds around them grew distant as their gazes met, grey against blue. When Kuro finally spoke, his voice changed—less deep, more melodious. "Estel, adar gín aníronnen ista ae ce mae."

Estel, your father wants to know if you are well.

The language he had missed for several years was being spoken to him. Only his eyes revealed his astonishment as he realized that Kuro was of Elven-kind. "Trenaro assen im mae," he softly replied.

Tell him I am well.

"Han cerithon."

I will.

"Le hannon."

Thank you.

"Well, would you trust me now?" Kuro asked, continuing in the Elven tongue.

"I would trust you, but not as a friend." Strider leaned forward a little. "You would do well to continue hiding yourself."

"I am familiar with Mannish ways," the other easily replied, "and I think in time you will trust me, for you are still a child in the eyes of my people."

"I am no child." He was thirty, young for a Númenórean, but hardly a child.

"Foolish boy." Kuro shook his head. "Do you think you can regain your lost throne on your own?"

"I have my followers." His voice was stiff.

"Yet you still lack experience."

"Of course, I am by no means perfect." His tone was sharp. "If I were perfect, than, aye, I would be on the throne right now."

Kuro ignored this. "You are frightened, are you not?"

He almost unsheathed his sword. "Who are you to tell me all this?"

"Forgive me. I am used to commanding others." A wave of a thin hand. "I am here to help."

"Tell me why I should accept this help from a stranger who seems to know me better than myself."

Another chuckle. "Because, Aragorn—" Here, he offered a thin smile. "—you are in need of a friend."

Did he, now? "What is your name?"

"I am a friend of your family." Kuro's blue eyes held his. "You can trust me."

Strider looked away, unsettled. This Elf…he was strange. He knew so much, and his words were also a mystery. Why did this elf seek him out? Had he been sent as a warning that people were waiting on him? "How can I trust you if you do not give me your name?" he finally asked.

"Because you have forgotten it."

He furrowed his brow. "I have never met you."

"Really?" A soft sigh. "You truly have forgotten me."

Frustration was beginning to grow. "If you wish to join with me, that is fine. I want to see if your actions will suit your words." He let his gaze drop to his weapon meaningfully. "I do not need the help of pretty-talking orators, even if they are elves."

Kuro shook his head in a pitying fashion. "Ah, Estel, may you someday learn."

He had enough of this conversation. "I shall see you later." Strider turned.

"Your brothers also ask after you," Kuro called out, though not too loudly. "And what shall I tell them?"

He paused mid-step. "Tell them…" he caught himself. "Tell them I do not need their protection."

Tell them I miss you, all of you. Father, brothers, my beloved—I miss you all.

But he would not say that to this elf who called himself Kuro.

TBC…

A/N: Kuro isn't an OC. There's no contest as to his identity—I think it should be obvious. *grin*