Once Tauren left his room, his attitude became stoic, as he had very important business to attend to - explaining to his lord why in Middle-Earth he was with and loving a woman, a she-elf, an enemy, and one he should have disposed of long ago. The Elf now had two masks in hand: "Nuavar the wanderer" and "Tauren, Prince of the Ethir." Nuavar loved; the Prince hated. Nuavar laughed; the Prince scowled. Tauren was caught somewhere between these two personalities, and knew not what to do, nor what to tell Rauko, his king. There was no use running, as it would only appear obvious that he had something to hide.

Riding through the woodlands, the Prince kept his eyes watching for signs indicating the Ethirian campgrounds - usually the shape of a panther carved into a tree. The sun rose high in the sky now that he had traveled for four hours. At long last he came upon trampled ground, slightly brushed away, but still visible, leading from the side of the road off into the woods. Steering his steed to the left, it became harder to detect the path to the camp. But, after scrutinizing the area, he located their trail, following a snapped twig here, and a turned stone there. Having ridden several miles in the wilderness, hoping his path was correct, he came upon the quiet campgrounds. Instead of being revered and bowed to as usual, his entrance attracted stares and eagle eyes.

"Rauko's inhabitance?" he said sternly, asking a fellow Ethir where to greet his lord.

"Straight ahead and to the right...Prince," he replied, eyes glaring up at Tauren, his body wanting to rebel.

"Carry on." His follower's attitude had been strange. Had that traitor, Randuil, told of his...incident?

Having arrived at the entrance of the pavilion, he ascented from the black stallion with nervousness. "Mi'lord?" he managed to speak.

"Come in," came a gruff answer.

Pulling back the curtains guarding the entrance, the Prince stepped infront of his King and bowed. Rauko looked up from the map he was scrutinzing to his son's eyes, much like his - piercing grey orbs.

"So the Rwalaer returns to me. What news from the maiden? [Lusty one]" Rauko stood up, speaking in a commanding tone.

"Maiden?" Tauren licked his lips. His pupils diolated.

"Don't play innocent with me, Tauren. I know everything about you and the elf-maid. Randuil has told me all about her." As if on que, the messenger stepped from behind a curtain with a sickenly smug smirk, standing beside his master.

"Oh. One could hardly call her a maiden, my lord. More of a wench, in my opinion." Tauren mentally slapped himself for insulting his loved one. "As I told your messenger, I am using the she-elf to attain a prècis of information. I might assertain that the lady is falling in love with me. By appeasing her desires, he trust in me grows. Making casual, and perhaps even intimate, conversation with Luinfalasien, I have come to know about her, her family, and her people."

Rauko nodded, contemplating what his only son had just explained. His argument made sense, but was it the whole truth?

In reply, the Ethirian lord stated, "I trust you, Tauren, for I know that after hundreds of years of service, and you being my own flesh, blood, and heir, that you would not so quickly deceive me." At this, Tauren bit his lip, but then let it go as it may give away his guileful promulgation. "I will also command of you, though, to begin a dossier of all information you attain concerning Gondor, Lorien, the Sea Folk, and who or what ever you know of." Rauko glanced up a Randuil, who was shifting nervously from one foot to the other, as he continued. "Another messenger will arrive at your residence every two days to reciprocate it."

"But the girl," inquired the Ethir, "Won't she harbor suspicion?"

"Don't let her be," bounced back the lord's simple and swift reply. "Oh, yes. When you believe the time is right, send us a note so that we may attack Gondor and its colonies." He waved his hand in dismissal, and continued to study the map stretched out before him. The Prince bowed and left the pavilion.

Before departing the encampment, however, he received new garb for himself and two cloaks, one for him and another for Celesil. Replenishing his saddle bags with food, he filled the water-skins to the brim and sealed each tightly.

The hour was growing late, and the sun was just two hours from setting. He would have to cover ground more quickly if to return before ten o'clock.