"Rómenondor is invested. Easterlings and Wainriders have broken over the Rómenram in a surprise and vicious attack. They have flooded into Gondorian territory. Rómendacilbar is besieged by a vast host which numbers over three hundred thousand. Mile castles report wains of tens of thousands marching west. So far, castles and strongholds are being ignored. Peasants and everyone else caught in the open have been slaughtered and every field in their path has been put to the torch. It is my contention that they mean to starve us out of our fortifications. This suggests that they have little to no siege equipment.

"Enemy has been engaged in several skirmishes and two pitched battles. Most engagements did result in victories for Gondor however the enemy is overwhelming and our forces have suffered heavy casualties. Further successful prosecution of combat is in doubt. Reinforcements are required immediately for Gondorian victory.

(signed)

Prince Pelatur, Lord Governor of Rómenondor"

---

---

Desserts were served as the latecomers sat in their appropriate seats.

"I'm afraid it seems you've missed the dinner," began Elagor to his brother as the tardy Prince walked to his seat.

"I'm afraid it seems you've missed the war," responded Tinsereg, and Lord of Arnor gave a hearty laugh.

Princess Aldanna, light as a gazelle on her toes and as radiant as her mother, loped over to him. "Welcome back, brother," she said in her lilting voice, full of laughter, as they embraced. Tinsereg felt the warm, angelic glow from her body fill him with joy. "It's so good to finally see you again." One of Tinsereg's rare smiles spread widely across his face.

They had always been close growing up; she was his surrogate mother, his protector, and the only one who had never judged him for his marriage. The Princess then curtsied to Arientari and embraced her as a sister.

"Careful sister," Elagor playfully cautioned as he rose to great the newcomers. "I hear they bite."

"I'll keep that in mind, younger brother," Aldanna said, smiling.

Elagor chuckled as he stood to greet his brother properly. "Only by a year." That was his standard response. Long ago in the days of the strength of Númenor, custom decreed that the eldest child, be it man or woman, was heir to the crown. Even though the practice had not been observed in these Realms in Exile, Aldanna's perfunctory claim over him had always irked Elagor.

The two princes, Elagor and Tinsereg, greeted each other with many buffets on the back. "At least I'm still older than you, Sereg," Elagor jested. Pelatur next welcomed him, and then Tinsereg clasped hands with Mithrim whose stare was filled with envy. Prince Éohelm then bowed respectfully and Tinsereg did the same.

---

The doors to the Hall were opened for leftovers from spent plates to be dispensed to the less fortunate of Minas Anor who came for the beggings. The guests inside were now treated to desert accompanied by the best minstrels of the Reunited Kingdom. Songs and lays dramatizing the great deeds of ancient Kings and those of Elessar, Eldarion, and the current King Elaldar filled the Hall as the guests ate at lemon cakes and various other pastries.

"So... how had the Haradrim fared in battle," asked Elagor, eager for the details.

"They showed courage and dignity on the battlefield," Tinsereg responded. "They are a worthy people."

"Worthy," Queen Esgaler muttered between sips of wine. The rest was lost in her wine glass.

Tinsereg swallowed his resentment in his own wine, knowing his wife was included in the Queen's remark.

Elagor laughed. "So they gave you a good fight, eh? Haradrim are usually easily defeated. Are you sure you haven't been spending too much time under that dastardly hot sun?"

Seeing a chance to pounce Mithrim smugly added, "It seems you were unable to stop a Haradrim fire-ship from destroying the Arsenal at Umbar."

Tinsereg took a bite of his lemon cake and chewed slowly, letting his half-brother stew in the silence. "Well, as to that," he finally began. "The waters around the Haven of Umbar are no longer my charge." Prince Mithrim had been appointed High Captain of the Arsenal, taking the Haven away from Tinsereg after his marriage.

"Yes, Mithrim," Pelatur put in, backing up his younger brother, "it must be exceedingly difficult to carry out your duties over Umbar spending all your time here in Minas Anor."

Elagor barely contained his laughter as Mithrim sank into sullen quiet.

"Boys, that's enough," the King weighed in with his thick voice.

When Tinsereg was removed from his position of High Captain of the Arsenal, Umbar was the home to the most powerful fleet on the Great Sea. Before, he had used its power to destroy a Haradrim port down the coast to the south that had been raiding the southern mercantile routes.

The Southrons had always been irate that King Elessar had liberated the former Gondorian stronghold. Many of their people had settled there over the centuries of Haradrim rule. So cross were they that these Southrons attacked it several times over the past three hundred years.

That port to the south had been becoming a substantial and growing problem, but Tinsereg had burnt it to the ground and defeated the Haradrim sailors so soundly that few in Gondor thought that they'd have any sea power again for a number of years.

Under Mithrim's tenure the strength of the Arsenal grew dramatically. So much so that all the docks and safe anchorages were so taken up with warships that the import of foodstuffs and other important supplies became exceedingly difficult from all the clutter.

Traders had to anchor off the coast and ferry supplies in, a slow and time consuming process. The Southron Haradrim, seeing their chance, quickly besieged Umbar and sent in that fire-ship which destroyed almost the entire overburdened Arsenal.

Tinsereg's Harondor army broke the besiegers and the small fleet at Hyarmentur, still under his command, was sent down to prevent another attack from the sea. Up until Tinsereg left Umbar to attend this celebration, none had come to challenge his ships and traders once again were given access to the remaining docks.

If filled Prince Tinsereg with guilty pleasure that Mithrim either had let the Haradrim port become fully operational again, had no clue what was going on, or both.

Prince Éohelm was chuckling into his dessert, enjoying this exchange between the brothers.

Prince Pelatur turned to Tinsereg, "Come, come brother, tell us a story of the war," he urged.

"Yes, Sereg," Elagor added jovially. "Tell us how you broke the backs of those Haradrim curs!"

Tinsereg thought for a moment. "It was to be the last battle—in southern Umbar. We'd defeated the Haradrim in the previous day, but they escaped being routed—our cavalry were hung up in the hills with guerrillas." There was a pause. "When we finally caught up with the remaining host they were already in full retreat... except for some five hundred who stood guarding this narrow pass. I had no intention of shortening my lines to engage them, so I ordered the archers to the front."

"Good, good," Elagor commented.

"As we closed in to archery range... something truly extraordinary happened."

"Five hundred Haradrim suddenly shatting themselves." Elagor joked.

Prince Tinsereg waited out his brothers' laughter. "They charged."

Elagor and Pelatur suddenly went quiet. They understood that valor, in the absence of hope for victory, was a truly extraordinary thing. Tinsereg glanced at the King; he was busing himself by trying to pretend not to hear. Years later, the story of the Five Hundred Haradrim will be a patriotic fable to young Southron warriors, mused Tinsereg. We'll have to do something to nullify that.

"Only fools would charge a superior force," the Queen replied. "They don't know they're already conquered." She then turned to the King. "If we weren't their masters, they'd be suffering under the worse yoke of lesser Men. They should be grateful."

"I believe that those Southrons won't be bothering Umbar for quite some time." Elagor raised his glass in toast. "Well done, Tinsereg. Well done."

"Don't send a boy to do a man's job," Pelatur added.

Mithrim and Queen Esgaler's faces both turned the same color of red. His out of embarrassment, hers out of rage.

"Children," Princess Aldanna called out from the other end of the table. "Play nice."

They obeyed.

The Queen whispered something into the High King's ear. He glanced suspiciously at Arientari, but then quickly brushed the thought aside and went back to his dessert.

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