Hope.

It always hid in the shadow of despair, glinting only when you come plowing through the darkness to look upon it. Aragorn looked out to the rising sun colouring the sky above the golden desert a glorious red, and his heart was glad. He had persevered, and he found hope in the end.

King Hamun had spoken kindly to him, and like many others, he was wearing mixed relish and guilt in his somber expressions, and as light to the darkness of his initial scorn and contempt, the King of Harad agreed to send a sign of friendship to Gondor. The desert people were ever quick to anger, yet just as swift to admit and mend their wrongs. Aragorn was relieved. A renewed vigor and confidence was in him, for, at last, the precious seed that was the recipient of his endless loving labour was putting forth a tender, tentative sapling.

Quiet feet skittering over the golden sand woke him from his thoughts. He turned and found the young Haradrim prince Annem beside him.

"Taluya!" The young man greeted him, coming closer. "Are you well, Taluya?"

"I am well, young one." Aragorn answered.

The young man looked at him closely, and said, "You do not seem well, Taluya. You are still pale, and you look pained." The voice was soft, concerned, a shade fearful and guilty.

Aragorn smiled wanly and said, "I am well, truly. My wounds pain me still, but these are mending fast. You must stop tormenting yourself with guilt whenever you step near me, young one."

The young man returned the smile, sincerely if a little uncertainly. He sat himself down beside the older man and watched the sunrise. There was a companionable silence; nothing could be heard save the crisp morning wind whistling a sweet, low melody.

At last Aragorn asked, "Have your father chosen the delegates to be send to Gondor yet?"

The young man nodded. "He is mostly decided, only a few more people and we shall be ready to go."

Aragorn turned his head slightly. "We?"

The young man smiled brilliantly. "I asked father permission to be part of the delegate, and he said yes. Is it not wonderful, Taluya? I have always listened to your tales of the northern lands with wonder, and now I have a chance to behold those wonders with my own eyes! I have always dreamed of this, flippant and infidel as it may sound."

Aragorn shook his head. "You are being neither flippant nor unfaithful to your own by wishing to behold lands beyond, yet…" He paused here, and frowned. At last he said, "If you will go, Annem, I wish you will go as a commoner, not the prince of Harad."

"You fear for my safety, Taluya?" The young man asked uncomprehendingly. "But we go with peaceful intentions and friendship. Should we not be received with the same?"

For a long time Aragorn was silent. Finally he replied, "I believe and I hope, yet still I am not certain. Gondor was never merciful or forgiving, and it was always too proud to admit any wrongs. The steward of the realm as of now is especially not known for tolerance. This will not be an easy journey, young one, and I do not wish to place you in more than the necessary risk."

"But what of you, Taluya?" The young man asked; all the eager excitement faded. "They know you in Gondor, and if they are as unforgiving as you say, what would they think of you now?"

Aragorn was hesitant, but he laughed and answered with a sigh, "Whatever their reactions, least they shall not be surprised. Words should have reached the White City long ago of my presence here, along with my letter to the Lord Denethor."

The young man nodded, yet still there was a hint of fear in his dark eyes and he looked on the pale northerner.


They rode out from Harad a fortnight later, a delegate of twenty in total. They were garbed in the rough, many layered clothes of the south, their dark hair flying in the morning wind with defiance. The steeds beneath them were tall and wild, rough and sharp as if hewn out of sandstone. Indeed, that was what the entire delegate looked, rough and wild, like the desert falcon with its hardened wings.

They rode swiftly, and in mere days the golden desert gave way to gentle plain with tall, crisp, yellow grass. Water flowed easily in these lands; the many streamlets were like a silver web over the southern prairie. Then the prairies changed to woodlands, with shapely trees and flowering vines. The many streamlets turned to leaping creeks, noisy and merry. The great Anduin flowed past to their west, and they were ever aware of its thundering presence.

After the company crossed the River Poros, Aragorn's wariness magnified tenfold. He was ever alert and watchful, and he would lead the company away from the trodden paths and through the treacherous parts of the woodland, ways and bends that even the experienced rangers of Ithilien would hardly know. The Haradrims were much mystified by his actions, but such was their love and respect for him that they did not question at all. No one, not even the young prince of Harad, knew the true extend of Aragorn's fears, for he spoke lightly of them. Yet he had indeed been waiting for hindrance of some kind ever since the company crossed into Gondor. In his heart he knew Denethor would not interpret his letter kindly. Perhaps it was the secrecy of the path, perhaps it was fortune's blessing for a change, but they met no hindrance until they were almost upon the white city.

On the last evening of their journey young Annem asked eagerly, "Are we almost at the White City, Taluya?"

"We still have many leagues to travel ere we are upon the city, prince." Aragorn replied with a gentle smile, not unmoved by the young man's zeal.

"Long have I waited for the moment to behold the White City! I wonder, is it truly as splendid as tales say? How does it compare to our Memfessa in the heart of the desert?" The young man exclaimed dreamily, eyes gazing distantly as if his sight could pierce the endless layers of trees and vines and catch the white splendor gleaming faraway.

It was this precise moment that Aragorn heard the faint ruffling sound. The small insignificant sound intruded on his awareness with the edge of a fine blade. He reined his horse with a sudden jerk, and stayed still as a stone. Seeing his action, the company turned deadly silent; Annem's eager smile faded like rain in the desert.

In the utter silence, Aragorn caught more sound: shuffling feet, snapping of branches and the unnatural shifting of boughs and leaves. He saw shadows among the branches, green shades that flitted between the distant branches and trunks. Aragorn recognized those instantly: they were the rangers of Ithilien. Slowly he dismounted from his horse, and raised his hands, palms outward in sign of peace.

"Friends of Gondor!" He cried in clear voice, "We come to you in peace, bearing our friendship and good will out of the desert. We wish to look upon your great city and speak to your people. Will you let us pass?"

Only silence answered him. Slowly and cautiously Aragorn walked forward, until his lone figure was a good distance before the company. Again he cried, "Come friends! Will you not greet us?"

This time he did receive an answer. Out of the boughs and leaves an arrow whistled and hurtled towards him. Aragorn did not expect such a reply. The arrow came flying with such celerity, and it struck his arm and pierced to the bone ere he could react. The impact sent him stumbling backward, gasping for air. The pain sent a dizzying wave through him, and for a moment the world looked black.

"Taluya!" Annem shouted and leaped over to help him, dark eyes bewildered and afraid.

Aragorn pushed the young man back forcefully. He stood up shakily and cried out in a hoarse voice, "Back! Stay low! Take shelter behind trees!"

No sooner did the Haradrim scatter into the dense foliages like hunted deer than the arrows started raining down. Aragorn dragged himself to a large tree took shelter from the deluge of arrows behind the sturdy trunk. Annem was still by his side, supporting him. Aragorn had no more strength to push the young man away, so he allowed the youth there. The pain in his arm was rendering the world into a dim, blurred tapestry of shadows.

"Taluya!" Annem whispered, anxious and fearful. "What now, Taluya?"

Aragorn did not know. It looked impossible. He had expected suspicion from the Gondorians, yes, reluctance and hindrance too, but never could he imagine that such an open attack would lie in waiting, after all the declarations of peace and good will. Or had he always secretly known and expected such, only reluctant to admit it?

How could they possibly defend from the attack? Many of the company were no warriors, rather merchants, artisans, and men of learning, and they bore little weapons. Now scattered in the unfamiliar woodland, directionless and beleaguered with fright, they were doomed to be hunted down one by one like hares. Already he could see the green shadows advance towards his direction. His loving labor, his long suffering borne in silence, all of these was rewarded with only livid intransigence.

A sudden anger engulfed him; a wild fury that he had not tasted for many years was suddenly in him once more. Gone was his usual kindness, vanished his reserve, and his patience was wearing perilously thin. In his fevered rage his mind gained a new acuity, and it launched into a ruthless calculation that was almost above the rest of him. The rangers of Ithilien were great foresters; they were at one with the woods. Yet that was also their one vulnerability, for they were too entangled with the forest to truly master it.

With unfeeling eyes Aragorn began to note every detail about him: a great wind was blowing from south, towards the approaching rangers; the air was crisp and the forest was dry, result of at least two fortnights without rain; the forest floor was blanketed with yellowed leaves and broken boughs. Aragorn turned to the young Haradrim beside him and said, "Signal the people; tell them to flee south against the wind."

Annem did not seem to understand, but he obeyed without a word. He whistled: long and short shrill notes like the warning of alert birds before the coming of the predators. While Annem sent words of warning to the Haradrims already scattered in the woods with those birdcalls, Aragorn took out pieces of flint. He struck the flint, once, twice, his aching, bleeding, trembling arms could not bring the flint together with enough force; thrice he struck the flint, and finally sparks leaped and landed on the wide palm of a yellow, beechen leaf. The air hissed, and flame sprang forth in poisonous red blooms, dancing seductively with malicious glee.

Annem's eyes widened, but he said naught. He only took the pale northerner's arms and fled into the woods, whistling a trail of shrill birdcalls. They stopped short when they reached a shallow silver stream, where some Haradrims had already gathered. Aragorn collapsed onto the forest floor, drawing short, ragged breaths painfully. His entire sleeve was crimson now.

Wordlessly Annem knelt beside him, and took the shaft of the arrow still protruding from Aragorn's arm and wrenched it free in one jerk. Aragorn clenched his teeth, straining not to lash out at the youth. The pain and anger combined was turning his mind to a heated blade, sharp and feverish. Still quietly Annem began to cleanse and bind the wound, slender fingers moving slowly with the clumsiness of someone little practiced for the healing art. Yet his touch was comforting nonetheless, and slowly Aragorn's breath slowed and evened.

At last when Annem was finished he said quietly, "Rest, Taluya. We are safe here, for a while at least."

"Yes, safe for a while." Aragorn closed his eyes briefly and murmured, his voice distant and withdrawn.

Slowly as if fearful he turned and looked northward. The sky was aglow with firelight; columns of dark smoke rose from the treetops, quickly disseminated by the wind; birds were wheeling in the sky with panicked stupor, screaming and shrieking, and flying with them were red blooms of fire, riding the south wind. The red glow reflected in Aragorn's clear grey eyes, eerie and otherworldly.

"By the Valar." He whispered, voice barely audible. "What have I done?"

For a long time he stared at the flame in the distance fixedly as one in trance. But at last he turned his gaze back once more and stood up slowly.

"Come, we must leave this place now." He said quietly in an impossibly steady voice. "We shall find a more secluded place that offers more shelter and rest. The night is almost upon us."

And turning away he took a heavy and weary step into the labyrinth of woods. Silently the Haradrims followed him.