Dark.

Pierced with brilliant stars.

So the sky looked when Aragorn entered the prisoner tent on the next day, when almost all had fallen deep in slumber. He sent the guards away, and entered the tent alone. The captives were dozing off, but at the sight of him they started and looked at him warily. For a moment he stood there silently, then he drew his knife and cut away the bonds on the prisoners. His action was received with utmost confusion. For a long while they only stared him with uncomprehending expression plastered across their faces.

"Can you stand?" He asked briskly, ignoring their questioning looks.

Carefully Bregol pushed himself off the ground, supporting himself shakily after the long period of inactivity. "I can stand," He said uncertainly. "Though I think I shall need a while before I can walk."

"Then you shall have a while," Aragorn said in a low voice. "But not for long. We shall have to leave here long before the next shift of guards come. I have prepared horses, and they are sturdy steeds that will have no trouble bearing us across the desert. I shall lead you as far as I may, and I know this land well. Should we become separated, you can find maps in the saddlebag. Follow the route I marked on the map, and you should escape the desert."

The confusion on the Gondorian soldiers' faces turned to amazement, and hope and gratitude. "Then you do not truly serve Harad, Captain Thorongil?" One of the young soldiers asked hopefully.

"Truly serve Harad?" Aragorn laughed with a faint bitterness. "No. I did not intend to, at least. I came here to learn of their ways and gather what information I can. Yet seldom do events unfold as one intends."

There was an awkward silence. Finally Bregol asked tentatively, "Will you return with us to Gondor, Captain Thorongil?"

"Yes, for a while at least, if fortune be so kind." Aragorn answered. "I have much to speak of to the Lord Denethor." After a pause he continued in a low voice, "Let us go now. We have tarried long enough."

Quietly they stole out of the tent and into the boundless desert. The sand was glimmering with a faint white light under the bright star spray. The moon was full, yet pale, faint and grey. Aragorn stepped into the shadowy world and seemed suddenly to melt into the desert, only another brush of grey and black. He strode across the sand with easy grace, every step firm and doubtless. He seemed to be at great ease with this land. The Gondorian soldiers followed him silently, trying only to put on foot before another with no time for either speech or awe.

"We should be nearing a small pond soon." Aragorn said evenly as he led the way around another sand dune. "Horses await us there, and we shall ride then."

He took another few steps, suddenly stopped right in his track. For a moment he stood rooted, as if trying to catch some sound from the distance. At last he said, urgency stealing his voice, "I do not know how, but pursuers are already behind us. Quickly now!"

Moments later the others picked up the tell tale sign as well. Bright sparks of red were in the distance, glittering like ghost fire in the night. There was a whirlpool of faint, faraway voices, mingling in the night air: shouts, ringing of steels and the trembling of the sand under many hooves. The lights and sounds alike were moving towards them at an incredible speed, sweeping near like an ill wind. When they reached the small pond, a line of riders was already visible on the edge of the desert, where the sand and the sky met.

The horses resting beside the pond seemed to register their agitation, and came galloping at a single gesture from Aragorn. With one fluid motion Aragorn leaped atop the great black stallion. "On the horses!" He cried. "Ride! Now!"

The Gondorian soldiers followed his lead and quickly leaped on the horses. They took off with great speed, leaving a sandstorm behind them. The pursuers did not relent. Already they are drawing near to no more than twice a single arrow's range. The Haradrims were no archers and carried no bows, however, and for that Aragorn was thankful.

The chase was hanging by a thread. Slowly, and slowly, Aragorn saw that they were gaining ground. The Haradrims were falling back. Yet before he could plan further, a line of riders appeared before them, suddenly sprang from the sand like cunning hunters that had been long awaiting the wretched preys. Aragorn could feel his hope sinking.

Reins pulled, great steeds charged and wheeled, hooves stamped and raised a storm of sand. Aragorn soon found himself caught between the two lines of riders, then surrounded on all sides before he could found a break in the formation. Weapons were drawn, spears and knives and swords, and pointed towards him with both determination and hesitation. The king of Harad rode up with his young son Annem beside him, sword drawn and raised. Aragorn saw Bregol beside him tense, and clench the hilt of his short sword forcefully, perhaps considering the possibility of throwing the weapon into the heart of the Haradrim king.

"Wait!" Aragorn barked in Westron, before adding in a barely audible voice. "Wait. And aim only for his horse."

A look of confusion stole Bregol's face, but he had no chance to speak. Presently King Hamun spoke out in a hardened voice, "Is that how you repay friendship and trust, Taluya? You steal away my prisoners and consort with my enemies?"

Aragorn was silent, before saying quietly, "I only wish for peace, my lord. I said to your before, and I shall say it again: releasing those soldiers will be a sign of our friendship, and it will be a starting point to build at least an understanding, if not alliance between Gondor and Harad, my lord. 'Tis true that I acted against your will, but I was only thinking of Harad and her people…"

"How dare you speak of Harad and her people?" The Prince Annem shouted angrily. "Harad never was of any importance to you! You are only a spy from Gondor, here to gather information about our people. You wished nothing but harm on Harad! Indeed, are you not the same Thorongil of Gondor who led the barbaric northerners against our people? I heard those soldiers call you thus. Do you deny it?"

Aragorn looked at the young man. "You heard?" He asked wearily.

The young man returned the gaze unflinchingly, "I stood outside the tent and heard every conspiring word from your mouth." His voice was fierce.

"So you have heard." Aragorn said evenly, a faint note of resignation in his voice. "Then what use is it for me to speak more? All words are in vain now."

He lowered his head and seemed to fall silent. Yet discreetly he brought his hand in a downward motion, as if slashing the air. Bregol understood that gesture well, and reflexively he obeyed the command. In one swift motion he pulled his short sword free and threw it towards the Haradrim king's horse. The sword drove into the beast's neck with a horrendous might, forcing the blade in until the hilt touched the beast's skin. The horse let out a great wretched cry, and crumpled beneath the Haradrim king. That surprise and chaos was all Aragorn needed. He leaped like a hunter bird suddenly sprang from its perch. Before anyone could realize, he was already on the same horse as the Prince Annem, a sword on the young man's neck threateningly.

"Do not move." Aragorn said calmly, his voice perfectly even and expressionless.

The Haradrims froze upon their steeds, swords and spears halted in mid-hurtle. Even the Gondorian soldiers stared uncomprehendingly, their jaws slack from the disbelief.

"What is the meaning of this?" Hamun, who now stood on the ground flanked by his soldiers, shouted, sounding shocked and raged.

Aragorn ignored him, and turned to Bregol, nodding for the soldier to come near. Still confused, Bregol rode near, waiting for his orders.

"Remember my words to you, Bregol." Aragorn said quietly. "It will not take you long to escape this desert. Also, take the saddlebag on my horse. There is a letter in it addressed the Lord Denethor. Make sure the letter reaches him."

Noting the solemnity in Aragorn's voice, Bregol nodded and obediently retrieved the saddlebag. When that was done Aragorn turned to the King of Harad once more and spoke again in the tongue of the south, "I have only one demand for the life of your son, my lord."

Silence. Not a single breath stirred. The night air with thick and tension pulled, almost a tangible manifestation of the battle of wills. At last the Southron king stonily barked a command, "Part! Part and let them pass!"

Silently the circle of Haradrim soldiers parted.

"And you shall swear to me that no man of Harad will pursue them." Aragorn pressed.

"No man will pursue them!" The king growled impatiently. "By the graves of my forefathers I swear this. If the desert be kind with them, they shall reach Gondor in one piece."

More uncertain silence. Aragorn turned to the Gondorian soldiers and said sharply, "Why do you tarry still? Go now. Ride hard."

Horses began to amble away, still hesitant. "What of you, Captain?" Bregol asked.

"Go!" Aragorn commanded.

At last the horses broke into a gallop, across the silver sand. Their figures retreated into the darkness of the night, turned smaller and smaller, and finally vanished from their sight.

At last the Southron king said contemptuously, "Why are you still here, traitor? If you would go, vanish from my sight now, and my promise will hold. But know this: Harad will not suffer such a humiliation with bowed head and bent back. We shall have our revenge. When you reach your pathetic lord in the north, prepare your soldiers in haste, for the wrath of Harad shall be upon you swifter than a desert storm." The fury in his voice was unchecked, and his face was terrible to behold.

With an exhausted sigh Aragorn lowered the sword in his hand and threw it to the ground. He slipped down from the horse and went on his knees before the Southron king. Weapons flashed in the night, and this time, they moved without hesitation. Aragorn could feel the spear points and sword edges on his back, ready to skewer him at moment's notice. He heeded them not, but only looked to the king.

"Forgive me, my lord." He began quietly. "I bear you no ill will, nor would I wish harm on Harad and her people. Yet I must allow those soldiers to return to Gondor. The Lord Denethor of Minas Tirith is a man with little tolerance. He will not understand your reasons for those skirmishes; he will simply think Harad hostile invaders and enemies. His will rally his arms against Harad, and soldiers will march tothe desertbefore the next full moon. I had to sent words to him, my lord, not to conspire against Harad, only to appease him and pacify Gondor, to ask Gondor for peace."

"If they will come, let them come then!" The king cried. "Harad does not fear war!"

"But I do." Aragorn answered wearily. "Such a war would be futile and in vain, and bring needless suffering to people of both Gondor and Harad. The shadow looms ever in the east; Mordor is rising once more. Is now truly a time to fight amongst ourselves?"

The king did not speak. Receiving no replied Aragorn continued, "Please, I beg you to stay your wrath and reconsider. Gondor is not an enemy, at least, it does not need to be."

After a long moment of silence the king said bitterly, "It sounds so full of light when you say it, just as any other false promises and sweet poisonous words. How can I trust you now, Taluya? Nay, Thorongil! For that is what you are. You have hidden your true identity from us, readily betrayed our trust even though we treated like our own. You held a sword to my son to force my words! How can I trust you now?"

Aragorn said quietly, "No doubt it is difficult. I acted as a common spy and conspirator, that I will not deny. But none of my actions is out of ill will. I would never harm Harad or her people. I have submitted myself to your judgment, my lord, to prove to you that my loyalty lies with Gondor and Harad. My allegiance to you shall not sway."

The sky was already growing pale in the west, a dim grey line. The night was slowly slipping away. At last the king said with a wave of his hand, "Bind his hands and make him walk behind the horses. We return to the city."