Death.
Aragorn looked out to the forest and saw nothing but death. The wind had died in the night, and a gentle, discreet shower fell shortly after. The fire had diminished mostly, save a few wild blooms here and there, glazing the dark sky a faint glowing red. Charred trees stood in the night, defiantly straight yet bleakly black, at the doorstep of death or already dead. Ravens wheeled overhead in their perpetual hunt for carnage. The scent of roasted birds and beasts in the dead woodland beneath attracted those eager scavengers.
Slowly Aragorn collected his wandering gaze once more and looked about him. In the small makeshift camp everyone slept except him. Though the night was deep, and he was pained and wearied, still he could find no rest. The sight, sound, scent of death assaulted him from all directions, mercilessly and without tire, whispering bitter accusations to him. A lesser man would despair, or become crazed or furious, but Aragorn only sat there, bearing the onslaught in silence.
He neither grieved nor despaired, nor allowed himself to wallow in guilt. For what use was any of those? He was not ready to forsake and condemn his aim just yet, even with so many lives already lost and so much pain already suffered on the way, for if he turn back now and abandon his goal altogether, then truly those lives and pains would be lost and suffered in vain.
Slowly he stood up. He walked over to where the Haradrim prince was lying in fitful sleep and shook the young man gently. Annem opened his eyes and for a moment looked up blearily with clear confusion.
At last the young man asked, "Taluya?"
"Not so loud, my prince." Aragorn said in a low voice. "Come, I would speak with you."
The young man gathered himself up and followed the northerner. Aragorn also woke Sadi, an old Haradrim merchant who was well traveled and knew the land of Gondor well. Together the three went to the edge of the camp.
"I did not think we would receive such open enmity in Gondor," Aragorn began in his quiet, even voice, "But today's events were evidence enough. It would be foolish now for us to make for the White City; we shall be hunted like base outlaws."
"Are you thinking of turning back then, Taluya?" Old Sadi asked.
"No, at least, I shall not turn back." Aragorn clenched his jaw. "I shall make for Minas Tirith now, and to plead Harad's case before the lords of Gondor on the morrow."
Annem's eyes widened, "Alone?"
Aragorn nodded, "I know this land well. Alone by myself, I can easily slip past the rangers patrolling these woods and reach Minas Tirith. I do not think I can do the same with a company of twenty. And also, none will see me as a threat and hinder me."
"What do you wish for us to do then?" Sadi asked prudently.
"To remain here and wait for me." Aragorn said. "The rangers are likely still hunting for the band of Haradrim that supposedly invaded their land, and it will be dangerous for you to travel until I can convince Gondor otherwise."
He paused for a moment, then added quietly, "Wait for me for three days. If I do not return after that, then you should depart from Gondor at once. You know the land well, Sadi, and with the maps I provided you should lead the company back to Harad safely."
The old man nodded gravely and said nothing, apprehension and pain and understanding alike were in his aged eyes. But young Annem cried out, "We can not possibly let you go to Minas Tirith alone! I shall go with you, Taluya."
"My prince, it will only place you in unnecessary danger…" Aragorn objected.
"No!" Annem cut him off mid-sentence and said passionately. "I will not you bear this burden and risk your life alone. Harad sent her children here with you because she believes you and she believes the cause. She will not turn back because some obstacles now lie in the path. I shall go with you, for I will not have people say Harad uses other to fight her battle and brace the line of fire."
Aragorn looked at the young man, amazed and speechless. At last he said with a sigh, "Yet your duty will have you remain here, prince; your people need you."
"My duty also says I should accompany you to Minas Tirith, to do what we set out to do." Annem said firmly. "Sadi knows the land well as you said. He can take care of the others."
Aragorn lifted his hands in sign of defeat, though a half smile was once more on his pallid and stern face. "If that is what you will, young one." He said. "Your strength and courage never cease to amaze me. If you are decided, then let us depart. We have a few hours of darkness to reach the White City."
Turning to Sadi he said, "Keep the others safe while we are away, old friend. We shall return with all speed we can gather, if fortune be kind."
The old man nodded gravely and watched Aragorn and Annem take their leave and stepped into the myriad of trees. He stood there and watched their retreating backs, until at last they vanished completely in the shadows of the night. Then Sadi knelt down on the cold forest floor and murmured a silent but fervent prayer.
The pair wove between the woodland for hour upon and hour, and when the first ray of sunlight gleamed, they saw the White City gleaming against the backdrop of precipitous rocks. The plain before the city was vibrant and teeming with travelers even at such an early hour. Pulling their hooded dark cloaks still tighter about them, the two joined the stream of people and went through the first gate with little trouble. Inside the city was ebullient with colourful sights and boisterous sounds. People were streaming by, shouting, pulling carts and wagons of goods, setting up booths. Annem looked about him with wonder.
"Today is the monthly market day in Minas Tirith." Aragorn explained quietly to the young Haradrim. "Many people from the fiefdoms about the city come here on this day to trade and barter. The watch at every gate is lax on this day. It is also the day every month when the Steward himself and other lords and captains of Gondor sit in open council in the courtyard before the citadel to hear the grievances and requests of the people. It is our one chance to propose our case before the people of Gondor."
Annem looked at his companion and asked uncertainly, "Do you think they will accept our offer of peace and friendship, Taluya? They have already rejected it once, have they not?"
To that Aragorn answered slowly, selecting his words with care, "Those rangers only acted on the command they received rather than their own beliefs. The Lord Steward was and most likely still is not well disposed towards me, and perhaps that was the reason for his hostility. The people of Gondor are neither intolerant nor vindictive. They will accept friendship, for they too tire of such an ancient feud with its cause already lost."
Annem nodded, and Aragorn offered the young man another half smile. Yet Aragorn was troubled, for he had spoken with more confidence that he had felt. What if the feud was too ancient, too deep to be uprooted? What then? Forcefully he pushed the shadowy doubts into the deepest recess of his mind, for he could not turn back now, and he would not have such thoughts dog his steps.
Aragorn traced the familiar stone streets with ease, leading the ever curious and excited Annem through the many gates before they at last reached the citadel. The courtyard of white stone gleamed brightly in the sunlight. The fountain leaped merrily, glittering like a shower of diamonds and pearls. The dead white tree in the center of the courtyard did not seem so austere at the moment; its shapely trunk and branches looked graceful and eloquent, though endlessly sad. A half circle of chairs was arranged about the fountain, and the lords and captains of Gondor were seated there. In the center seated in a great chair of gilded mahogany, was Denethor, son of Ecthelion, Lord and Steward of Gondor.
Already many people were gathered in the courtyard, some to make complaints and requests, others to settle disputes, and more merely there to observe, having much interest in the politics and affairs of the state. Annem watched with absolute fascination. Every speaker announced himself and was led before the lords; there he would receive a wreath of woven white willow branches, signifying the grace of the King and Realm, and he who wore the white wreath shall speak to his heart's contend with fear of neither persecution nor unjust wrath.
Speaker came after speaker and pleaded his case. The lords passed judgments and decreed new laws, and the people gathered gave their consent or disagreement as well. When the sun reached the zenith and noon bore down in its full glory no more speakers emerged from the crowd.
"If there be more grievances and requests, let him come forth and receive the white wreath, and speak to all of Gondor with neither fear nor hindrance!" The herald cried in a clear voice, and no one came forth.
The herald repeated his words once more. Receiving no reply he repeated it for the third and last time. Tradition had it that thrice shall the herald call to the crowd, and if no man came forth, the gathering would be declared over. But at the last call Aragorn emerged from the crowd and stepped before the lords and received the white wreath from the herald. Annem followed him closely.
"Who stands before the lords of Gondor? Let him declare his name and country." Denethor said in his usual stern and authoritative voice.
"I am Taluya of the desert of Harad, and also an old friend and ally, Thorongil" Aragorn said clearly, throwing back his hood.
There was a moment of stunned silence, before amazed murmurs rippled across the crowd. Both names were well known in Gondor, one exulted with fierce pride, another murmured with arcane fear. It seemed incredulous that any man would claim to possess both names before all of Gondor. But some of the lords and captains recognized the man, the great captain Thorongil from long ago, and they were astonished.
Denethor's face showed no change outward, save the sharpening of his already hard contour. He said coldly to the dark-haired man before him, "So you have returned, Thorongil."
Aragorn bowed slightly. "Indeed I have, my lord." He said. "It has been many years."
"And like always your reputation precedes you." Denethor continued. "I have heard that you are now the esteemed captain and protector of Harad, under yet another false name. Do you deny that?"
Evenly Aragorn answered, "I do not deny it, my lord."
A look of disgust and contempt crossed Denethor's face. He said in a thundering voice, "Why have you come back then? How dare you come back and stand before all of Gondor to wag your forked tongue, faithless traitor? Gondor has neither patience nor mercy for traitors; you shall be punished as the treasonous worm that you are."
Soldiers fanned out around him, swords drawn, ready to strike him down as soon as Denethor utters the command. Aragorn did not heed those soldiers. Calmly, slowly, gravely he placed the white wreath upon his brow and looked on the lords of Gondor seated before him. Suddenly he seemed changed, now tall, commanding, stately. The weight of many years' toil fell from his shoulders, and his keen grey eyes blazed. The white wreath of willow branches at his brow seemed to meld into a flaming silver crown. There he stood, beneath the full light of noon, shinning with glory of an age undimmed by sorrow. All watched with awe and disbelief, for that moment he looked a King.
"The grace of King and Realm gives me blessing and grants me the right to speak before the people." He said, voice ringing. "Will you deny that, my lord?"
"Speak then, if you will." Denethor declared vehemently, eyes smoldering with rage. "But know that the people of Gondor will not be so easily swayed by your treacherous words, for their hearts are loyal to Gondor."
Aragorn bowed once more and answered the challenge with his usual even words, "I am a mere messenger, my lord, and the decision lies with the people, not with you or me."
Denethor's grey eyes glared dangerously, but the steward spoke no more. Aragorn bowed one last time and straightened.
"My lords and captains, my friends and kinsmen!" He began, clear voice rising over the ripple of murmurs, full of majestic grandeur yet also the endearing melody, like the heralding call of a great eagle. "I return to you from Harad, out of the great desert of the south. 'Tis true that I dwelt with the desert people for many years, and loved them and was loved just as I loved Gondor. Yet I do not come to you as an enemy, and I beg you to not to perceive me as one. My heart has always been and will remain always with Gondor, and my allegiance shall not waver. I come to you, friends, to bear a message from the people of desert: a message that after many years of bewildered pondering and conflicting doubt they are finally willing to send with full sincerity; a message to halt, if not end forever, all strives and feuds; a message of friendship and peace."
"Long have Gondor and Harad fought, relentlessly and incessantly. Those conflicts were never fuelled by any tangible reasons, but rather, a bitter hatred and contempt with its original cause already too ancient to be remembered. Men of Harad are cruel, so it is said in Gondor. Soldiers return home to account the atrocities those southern barbarians commit. They tell you the desert people attack without justifications and kill without mercy; they tell you those people show nothing but primal rage and hatred. I am not here to accuse those people who speak such things, for they are honourable men and they speak what they believe to be truthful. Yet know you what they say in Harad? They tell the same things: how the barbaric northerners attack without reasons and slaughter defenseless women and children unprovoked. They too grieve their dead and rail against the injustice. They are honourable men also, and they speak what they believe just like you. I have heard both people, and I have seen both frontlines, and I know no one spoke false. There is no right and wrong in such an endless feud, only misunderstandings and reluctance to forgive. Gondor and Harad are like unwilling soldiers with their swords locked, both thinking there is no end until the other is struck dead. Yet there is another way: if both would step back just a little, the swords would untangle with ease."
"Harad is willing to take a step back: she sent her messengers here with words of peace and friendship. Will Gondor not accept? Harad is a great power in the south. She will prove a prosperous partner in trade, as well as a staunch friend in battle. Will Gondor turn down such a friend and ally?"
There was an astounded silence. At last Denethor said with a cold laugh, "And how much credibility is in your words, Thorongil? Are you merely acting on your own fanciful little ideas, or have you another nation enthralled?"
"Nay! You speak unjust words!" It was Annem who leaped and cried out in an indignant voice. "Harad does not follow blindly; she has faith in Taluya because he proved to be a dear friend and teacher, one who gave whatever he possessed to the people of Harad ungrudgingly. Harad doubted once, but now she sends her message of peace wholeheartedly with nothing but genuine sincerity, for she too tires of the endless, vain struggles."
The young man straightened and raised his head proudly, and took a roll of parchment from the folds of his cloak. "I am Annem, Prince of Harad, and I speak on the behalf of my nation and my people. Here is Harad's proposition of peace, the sign of her good will." Here the young Haradrim turned his back towards the lords and faced the people. Holding the parchment aloft he cried out loudly, "Will Gondor accept our offer of peace?"
The courtyard was silent save the faint sound of the clear water in the fountain leaping into the sky. But at last a single voice rang from the crowd, shouting, "Peace! We will have peace!"
The first shout was like the little stone that stirred endless ripples. Waves of waves of eager and joyous cries rang.
"Peace! Peace! Peace!" The single syllable rang again and again, like the tolling of great bells.
Aragorn took the roll of parchment from Annem. He knelt down before Denethor, holding the parchment above his head to the steward of the realm.
"The people have spoken, my lord." He said quietly.
Denethor's relentless stormy gaze bore into him without mercy, but Aragorn returned the look unflinchingly. At last Denethor took the roll of parchment from Aragorn's hand.
"Gondor and Harad will have peace then, as the people willed." He declared loudly.
A single cheer rang from the courtyard. In the arch of blue heaven above, a great eagle and a desert moon-hunter wheeled in their usual predatory dance, and their shadows were one upon the white stone of the courtyard.
