The King was approaching the stables, clad in his riding gear and flanked by his personal guards, when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps coming upon him. He did not break his stride or turn, so intent was he upon his mission, and he felt little need to see who it was, for he felt he knew.

"Good evening, Lord Tuornen," he said aloud, without looking.

The visitor appeared beside him, trying with difficulty to match the monarch's long stride. "Good evening, Your Majesty," the Councilman replied. "You are quite perceptive, as always."

"It is a remnant of my days as a Ranger of the North," Aragorn said, not slowing his pace. "A quite useful one, I have often found."

"Quite so," the nobleman agreed, and Aragorn could hear the obsequious smirk in his voice. "Perhaps your Majesty also knows why I am here?"

There was a short silence as they continued across the Fountain Courtyard towards the royal stables, now bathed in moonlight.

"I would suppose it involves the Haradrim in some manner," guessed the King as he walked. "You must forgive me if I cannot attend you now, my Lord, for I am in haste. There will be a meeting of the Council tomorrow, and all will be made known then."

"It does involve the Haradrim, Sire, and I fear this cannot wait," insisted Tuornen; they were almost at the stables. "You will not be surprised to know that the news of the foul attack and Lord Faramir's capture has reached every level of the City."

"I am not surprised in the slightest," Aragorn remarked, as they entered the outer limits of the warm glow from the stables. "Nothing flies so fast as gossip, particularly when it is ill in nature."

"Then you will also understand that the people are outraged at this turn of events," Tuornen continued, struggling even more to keep up with the King; he was becoming winded. "They cry out for the blood of those responsible."

"And they shall be satisfied; even now the beacons are being set alight to call for Rohan's aid," said Aragorn. They had reached the stables, and he stopped now and faced the panting Councilman, impatience plainly written on his handsome features. "Our armies will soon gather, and march upon the enemy."

"Ah!" Tuornen exclaimed, smiling. "We go to battle with Harad, I trust?"

There was a noise inside the stables as the Kings' mount was prepared.

"We go to battle, but not with Harad," said Aragorn, a small smile on his lips. "We know the place of Karil's fortress, and his army, and both shall soon be ours."

Tuornen's face fell, and he seemed momentarily bewildered.

"An army?" he stammered, after a pause. "There is a...But-it is not an army of Haradrim?"

The King shook his head. "It is composed of Orcs and Uruks; what Haradrim there are are few and widely scattered. It may disappoint you, my friend, but it appears Karil acts apart from his people. Harad is not to blame for what will soon occur."

Tuornen frowned. "Are...are we certain of that?"

Aragorn's gaze grew hard. "I have the word of a soldier of Gondor, and Lord Legolas, whom I would trust to the death," he said firmly. The challenge in his tone was unmistakable.

The nobleman averted his eyes as he considered this new information. "I am sure," he remarked, sounding anything but certain. He then looked up, a new thought seeming to strike him. "But-but what of Adir and the Haradrim delegation now in the very shadow of our City?"

"I go to them now," was Aragorn's answer, as he glanced inside the stalls.

Tuornen's expression turned hopeful. "To detain them?"

The King did not bother to hide his distaste for the Councilman's eagerness to condemn the Haradrim. "If I find cause for such action, yes," he replied, looking down as he adjusted his riding gloves. "But at the moment, I seek merely to confer with Adir, and make certain that they are adequately supplied for their journey home tomorrow."

The other man's features instantly fell. "They will not be held?" he inquired, obviously confused.

Aragorn fixed him with a stern glance. "Gondor does not imprison men without reason," was his firm response.

Tuornen peered at him, then licked his lips, making every appearance of taking great care in forming his next words.

"Forgive me, your Majesty," he said in a calm but strained manner, executing a slight bow of apology, "but I feel the fact that they are Haradrim is reason enough. It is the belief of myself and others that this has all been a plot by the Southrons to ensnare us. Your intentions are most noble, but I beg your majesty not to let them blind you to the truth. Remember, Karil is Adir's son, and it is our view that they are working together to destroy us."

He finished speaking and eyed the King expectantly. Although his voice indicated the utmost respect, there was a marked tension in his features, and his eyes burned with tightly contained zeal.

Aragorn regarded him evenly, and his voice was tranquil and confident as he spoke. "A man may be blinded by base intentions as well as noble ones, my Lord," he said quietly. "I assure you my eyes have been open and clear; I am no callow dreamer, unwise to the treachery of Men. I had been walking within their world for many years when you were but a babe. Think you that if I had any notion that Adir sought to bring harm to Gondor, I would hesitate for the briefest moment to protect her?"

Tuornen stared at him, but if he had any thought for an answer, it remained within him.

"You would condemn Adir and his men because they are of Harad, as is Karil," continued Aragorn, his hushed voice gaining a harder edge. "I have learned it is unwise to denounce all for the sins of one. Shall you also condemn me, because I am of the line of Isildur, whose weakness almost brought about the destruction of Middle-earth? Or the men of Rohan, from whose midst Grima Wormtongue the traitor came forth? Would you deem it just to bear the blame for the sin of another of your house, though you yourself be faultless?"

Tuornen continued to stare, his mouth hanging slightly open. He was clearly trying to think of something to say, and failing miserably.

Wearied, Aragorn sighed and shook his head. "If you have proof beyond your suspicions of Adir's treachery, my Lord, I beg you to now produce it. Elsewise, I ask you to trust that Gondor lies safe in the care of her King, and I will honor my vow to turn my sword to her enemies as swiftly as I turn my open hand to her friends."

For a long moment the two men regarded each other, Aragorn's eyes burning in the dim light, Tuornen speechless.

A clopping sound came from inside the stable, and a groomsman emerged, leading the King's saddled horse into the bright moonlight.

Aragorn glanced at it, turned to Tuornen and nodded. "If there is nothing else, my Lord, I shall bid you good night, and see you tomorrow when the Council shall be called."

Tuornen looked at him sideways for a moment, his face suddenly drawn. There was a pause as if he were thinking, then he quickly shook his head. "No, Sire. There...there is nothing more. Good night."

In moments, Aragorn was mounted, and soon he and his guard were riding down to the Great Gate. Behind them, Tuornen stood alone beside the stables for a long while, staring after the departed riders in the shaken manner of a man bereft.

-----------------------

Night had completely fallen by the time Aragorn drew near to the caves where the Haradrim delegation was encamped. In the blue-black shade of the moonless night, he could plainly see the glow of the torches and lamps within.

He sighed to himself as he rode, despising the situation more with every breath. If his royal duties laid heavily on him before, they were crushing him now. Faramir taken, the peace talks failed, armies of many nations gathering in Gondor for battle-these were the sorts of trials he had sought exile to avoid, and they had seen fit to visit him all at once.

What does a king say or do at times like these? he wondered as he rode. Wisdom did not come with the crown; there seemed to be no special spirit of kingly knowledge, far greater than that of other men, that would alight upon him when needed. The urgings of his soul were the same as they had always been, bred of years of wandering and learning in the halls of Elves and men rather than the hushed chambers of regal tutelage.

Perhaps this was for the best, he mused as he guided his mount into the camp. Had he set his mind to think strictly upon the traditions observed by some of noble blood, he might be inclined to follow Tuornen's advice, and imprison Adir and his men without true cause. He felt far more at ease with the council of his own heart, which was to watch, listen, and judge by what was said and done, not by supposition and suspicion.

Inside the large boulders that bordered the clearing, all was in readiness for the morrow's journey back to Harad. Wrapped bundles and baskets were carefully piled all along the ground, and the Haradrim were all occupied with packing their belongings. At the sight of the King they stopped and stood, many glancing cautiously at the guardsmen who accompanied the King as if expecting an army to be riding behind them.

As Aragorn dismounted, he noticed Prince Jadim walking out of the cave towards him, his tall, lean form outlined in the fiery glow from the cave. The formal finery Aragorn was accustomed to seeing him wear was gone, replaced by plain, dark robes, his long, thick black hair flowing free down his back. The young man's face was grim as he stopped a few feet from Aragorn, waiting.

"Prince Jadim," Aragorn greeted him with a nod. "I trust my messenger has reached your camp?"

"He has, King Elessar," replied Jadim with a bow. "Be assured that we mourn with you over Lord Faramir's capture. I have spent the time since wishing many curses upon my brother for such a foul-hearted deed."

"It is a deed he will curse himself, if all goes as we intend," Aragorn answered. "I have come to seek council with Chieftain Adir."

Jadim frowned slightly. "I have sent word to him that you are here, but I am unsure if he is prepared to receive you, " he said. "When we were told of Lord Faramir's capture, my father sought to seclude himself, and has spoken to no one since. He is interceding with our gods on Lord Faramir's behalf, and asking them to send him some respite from the pain he is surely suffering."

Aragorn was silent for a moment, moved by the Chieftain's deep concern for Faramir. After a moment he looked into Jadim's eyes and asked, "And does Adir also pray for his son?"

Jadim's expression hardened at once.

"I do not believe there is any prayer that will save Karil now," he replied in a ice-cold voice.

There was some movement at the mouth of the cave, and Adir appeared, accompanied by his guards. Like Jadim, his form was clothed in unadorned black, his head uncovered, and it seemed to Aragorn that the elderly Southron had aged many years since they last met, his face far more careworn than before.

"King Elessar," hailed Adir, stopping several feet away and bowing low before Aragorn. He then straightened, undid his sword-belt, and knelt upon the ground, placing the belt and its sheathed weapon on the ground at Aragorn's feet.

Somewhat surprised, Aragorn studied him for a moment, then lifted his eyes to the mouth of the cave, where all of Adir's men had gathered. At his notice of them, they followed their Chieftain's action, undoing their sheathed swords, kneeling, and laying the weapons upon the ground before them.

As they finished, a hush fell, as every Haradrim present remained kneeling before the King, waiting.

Adir lifted his eyes to the King and said solemnly, "Lord of Gondor, I have placed at your feet the sword that has been carried by my fathers for many hundreds of years. I do not know if you have come to bid us farewell or take us prisoner, but we are prepared to submit to your will without resistance, to prove that we come not as enemies, but as allies."

Aragorn watched him carefully for any sign of guile, any of the treachery that Tuornen had been so frightened of, but there was none.

Raising his head, he studied each of the Haradrim without speaking for a few moments, wishing that those who denounced Adir and his men could see this sight. It might not completely change their minds, but it would possibly give them something new to think about.

Bending down, the King then carefully lifted Adir's sword from the ground and straightened, a smile on his lips as he looked at the Chieftain. "I am grateful for your demonstration of loyalty, Chieftain of the Seventh Tribe," he proclaimed in a regal tone. "Be assured that I have ever been persuaded of your faithfulness. You and your men have leave to rise, and take back your arms; I shall not imprison you, nor keep you from returning to your homes."

So saying, he held out the sword to Adir, and extended his open hand to him.

A great deal of rustling and clanking followed as the Haradrim retrieved their swords. Adir took to his feet and accepted the weapon from Aragorn, relief and gratitude plain upon his face.

"My thanks to you, King of Gondor," he said, fastening the belt once more around his waist. "I thought it best to convince you at this dark time that not all men of Harad are as abhorrent as Karil. My heart is broken over what has befallen Lord Faramir."

"I am grateful for your words, Chief of the Haradrim," Aragorn answered. "Grief haunts us all, yet there is also hope. The Valar have already granted the safe return of Lord Legolas and Lieutenant Henvain; we now pray that Lord Faramir will be delivered as well."

"May our gods and yours work together to make it so," vowed Adir with utmost sincerity.

Aragorn and Adir began to walk together slowly across the camp, conferring as the men returned to their preparations for departure. Jadim followed silently behind them, absorbed in his own thoughts.

"I desired to tell you what we have found in Mordor," said Aragorn as they went along. "Your son's lair has been discovered, in an abandoned fortress at the southern foot of the Ephel Duath Mountains. He is building an army there several thousand strong, and undoubtedly means to march upon Gondor."

Adir groaned and shook his head. "His madness is complete, then!" he said mournfully. "I feared it would be so. Once I hoped that we might be reconciled, but I see now that his soul is turned in ways forever opposed to my own. Lord Faramir is a most kind and noble man, and a friend of Harad. That Karil would see fit to imprison and torture such a one as an enemy sets him against me for all time."

"He shall soon meet justice for that crime," vowed Aragorn in reply. "From what we have been told, he seeks to continue the war lost by the Dark Lord. We are gathering our forces now, and shall march before this week is done."

There was a pause, and the Haradrim chieftain stayed his steps. Aragorn did likewise and stood, watching his elderly guest with curiousity in his eyes.

Adir peered at him for a moment before speaking. "I know we have signed no treaty, King Elessar," he remarked, "but the swords of my men and myself are at the service of your land, if you will accept them. Karil has been the cause of this, and I would offer my life if it would mean the eradication of his treachery."

Irolas' earlier words came at once to Aragorn's mind as he considered the request. "That is most brave and generous of you, my friend," he said softly, a hint of melancholy easing into his voice, "but alas, there is presently a great deal of ill feeling among my people towards the men of Harad, including the men of my army. They will know, in time, that you and your tribe are blameless in this matter, but for now I believe it would most benefit you to return to your land and prepare for our future meeting, when all is settled and peace will once more be possible."

His words ceased, and for several long moments Adir looked at him, as if deciding what to say in answer. Behind him, Jadim's reaction was more open, as disappointment, resignation and anger blended together in a dark shadow across his handsome features.

"It is as I suspected, father," he said in a low voice. "They would rather cut their own throats than accept our aid."

"Jadim!" the Chieftain replied in sharp rebuke, turning halfway towards his son to give him a disapproving glare. "You gain no honor by speaking so baldly in front of our host, who has done all he can for us. Do you imagine hundreds of years of hatred will change in a week?"

His son stared at Adir, their eyes locking for a short, tense instant. Then the younger man looked away, chastised, but with his dark golden eyes still smoldering.

Adir's anger then seemed to melt, and he sighed as he turned to Aragorn. "It will take time, I know," he said to Aragorn, his voice laden with rueful understanding. "More time than I had hoped, perhaps. My men and I shall leave your land, and look for better times when we may meet again."

The King studied him solemnly, his heart filled with regret that matters had ended thus. "Karil may yet wish to kill you," he said quietly. "I shall grant you an escort to your border, soldiers of Gondor who are kindly disposed to your people, that you may reach your land unhindered."

Adir nodded. "That is most generous of you, King of Gondor," he remarked, his sad tone lightening slightly. "I believe if we leave under cover of night, and take a few roads that lie farther west beyond his sight, we will arrive safely. Then your men shall return to you, and you may go and put an end to Karil's insanity."

Aragorn's expression was somber as he considered the battle to come. "If he comes beneath my sword, Chieftain Adir, I must see that justice is done. I regret only that I must spill the blood of your kin, for your sake alone, not his."

But Adir gave him a mournful shake of his head. "Hesitate not on my account, King of Gondor," he said, his own voice hardening as he spoke. "He has chosen his way, and must pay the price for it. Let it be as you will, for I am done with him."

For a short time Aragorn regarded him, his features marked with respect and sorrow.

"It shall be as the Valar wills it," he said softly, lifting one hand to touch his heart, lips and brow in turn. "Safe journey to your home, my friend, and may your gods favor you until we meet again."

Adir smiled, and placed one hand over his breast, bowing deeply. "Many blessings upon you, King of Gondor, for the kindness you have shown me and my people," he replied. "May victory be granted to your armies in the coming battle, and Lord Faramir safely returned to you and the arms of his brave, noble Lady."

An aspect of fierce determination cast itself over Aragorn's brow. "When next you come to our City to talk of peace," he stated solemnly, "I vow that he will be here to greet you, if it lies at all within my power to make it so."

Adir smiled and murmured softly, "May it be as you say. Fare well, King Elessar."

He bowed once more, as did Jadim and all of the men gathered there.

The King swept them with a respectful glance, then inclined his head to Adir and said quietly, "Fare well, Chieftain Adir."

All were silent as the two leaders exchanged final glances, their expressions marked plainly with admiration and warm regard. Then Aragorn turned, and with his guard walked to their horses, mounted, and slowly rode out of the clearing and back towards the city.

Behind him, Adir and Jadim watched them go, and when they were lost from view the elder Southron drew a long, mournful sigh.

"Jadim, inform the men that we shall depart as soon as the King's escort arrives; we dare not wait for the dawn," he said.

His son nodded. "It shall be done, father," was the reverent answer.

Adir stood in thought for a moment longer.

"And when you have finished that task, my son," Adir continued in a pensive tone, gazing after the path Aragorn had taken, "return to me. I would have words with you, upon a matter of the utmost importance."

---------------------

For Aragorn, it was a wearying ride back to the City, his thoughts heavily laden with regret over the day's events. He was near exhaustion when he guided his panting mount through the dark, deserted streets and up the seven layers to the royal stables. Once his horse had been tended to, Aragorn sent word to his Queen that he would be delayed, and turned his steps to the Steward's chambers nearby to discover the welfare of Eowyn.

Her stricken face haunted him as he made his way across the Fountain Court. She had said little since their return to Minas Tirith and clung to none but her brother. Aragorn's heart ached when he contemplated the grief and uncertainty that doubtless plagued his friend at this moment. He, too, had suffered the anguish of being parted from the partner of his soul without knowing if they would ever meet again, and dearly wished there were some way he could ease the piercing grief now tormenting the brave White Lady.

The King soon reached the stately building that housed the Steward's apartments. The open balcony of one of the upper stories housed Eowyn's large garden; he caught the fragrant scent of roses even as he approached the steps leading into the structure.

A figure moved in the courtyard before him, and Aragorn was not at all surprised to see the tall form of Eomer emerge from the shadows, his royal raiment cast off in favor of simple garb, his long blonde hair shining in the faint starlight. As the man of Rohan bowed to Aragorn, the King of Gondor could not help noticing how very tired his friend appeared.

"Good evening, my Lord," murmured Eomer wearily. As he straightened, Aragorn could see tears glittering in the corners of his eyes.

Aragorn returned the gesture and offered a slight, sympathetic smile. "You need not stand on ceremony, my friend; I come not as a King tonight," he replied quietly. "How fares the Lady of Ithilien?"

Eomer paused, deep sorrow passing over his face as he peered at the King and deliberated his answer. Finally, he sighed, and began slowly walking to the edge of the courtyard that overlooked the Pelennor Fields, Aragorn at his side.

"She has finally agreed to take some rest," answered Eomer after some time had passed, his head bowed in thought as they strode along. "I saw her to her bedchambers and made certain she retired, though I doubt she sleeps. All of her mind is fixed on him, and I fear she will not close her eyes until he is by her side once more. She has asked to be let alone a while."

Aragorn thought for a moment. "I know of some medicines that will aid her sleep," he offered, "and any other assistance I may provide is yours for the asking."

They had reached the edge of the courtyard, and their steps halted. Eomer gazed at the broad vista spreading in front of them, then scowled, a low growl rising from his throat.

"The assistance I most desire now is a sword, and a clear road through Mordor to that creature's lair," Eomer declared, his voice becoming steeled with rage. He looked at Aragorn, a helpless aspect in his gaze. "I have no fine words with which to comfort my sister, no delicate ways to assure her. I find being a King is utterly useless at a time like this, Aragorn; I am no more able with soothing speech than I was before I ascended the throne, and it is breaking my heart. When the day comes, I shall help Eowyn in the best way I am able - by destroying those who have brought her this unrelenting pain."

Aragorn regarded him carefully. "That chance will soon come, Eomer. I am sure that in the meanwhile, she will embrace all that you may do for her. A brother's kind words are never unwelcome, particularly when they are as needed as they are this night."

Eomer nodded, clearly unconvinced but apparently unwilling to speak any more on the subject. He glanced in the direction of the caves where Adir's men were lodged. "You have visited the Haradrim?"

It was impossible for Aragorn to hide the frustration in his expression as he nodded, following Eomer's gaze across the fields. "The negotiations have ended without success. Adir and his men ride tonight for Harad," was his response.

Eomer studied his friend, then turned away, nodding as he did so. "Good," he murmured, in a soft but firm tone.

A bit startled, Aragorn peered over at him, but his fellow monarch was steadfast as he returned the scrutiny.

"Forgive me, Aragorn, but it is for the best, truly," said the man of Rohan, his voice growing stronger. "I fear that treachery lies beneath their every move. Had they been in Rohan, I..." He paused, considered. "I would have dealt with them in a different manner."

He had always known Eomer felt this way, but it still grieved Aragorn to hear his comrade speak it. The memory of Adir's men kneeling, their swords at his feet, appeared before his mind; if only Eomer could have seen it.

"I saw no cause to hinder their departure; in my sight, Adir and his men have proven their honor," Aragorn observed, watching the starlit grasses of the fields blowing in the wind far below them, his hands clasped behind his back. "One day they may be moved again to seek peace, and if I still hold the throne, I will welcome them, unless it is shown to me that I should feel otherwise."

Eomer also stared across the plains, his expression growing darker by the instant. "If that day comes, and I am yet King," he replied, "Rohan's chair at that meeting will be vacant."

Aragorn looked at him again, disappointed, but Eomer's aspect was firm as he lifted his eyes and turned to the King of Gondor. "I shall ask no pardon for this, my friend, so I pray you do not look for it," Eomer declared. "A man of Harad has driven a sword into my sister's heart; she lies abed bathed in tears, all on his account, and the account of those Haradrim who have joined him. I desire no peace with them. For what they have done to Eowyn, and to Faramir, they will ever be the enemy of Rohan."

He hesitated, forming his words, then cast his eyes once more to the far horizon, his voice becoming laden with emotion as he spoke.

"I had some small hope before, that perhaps the men of Harad might prove worthy of Rohan's trust," he admitted, "but now, there is none. They are allied with Orcs, Aragorn. It is a thing no men of honor would do, and to think of Faramir..."

His voice trailed off, the words choked away, and there was some silence before he turned to Aragorn and spoke again.

"Tell me, my friend," Eomer said in a thick, hushed voice, "have you ever seen a man who has been tortured by Orcs?"

Aragorn made no reply, solemnly watching his comrade and waiting.

The King of Rohan paused, then looked away. "Often during the War, we would find men who had been taken and vilely used by the minions of Sauron," he said softly, horror in every word as he stared at some unknown point, his mind seeing a far different image than the starlit courtyard around them. "It was . . . The worst was when they were still alive."

Aragorn felt his blood go cold at the thought, but remained silent.

"I cannot tell you what it is, Aragorn, to hear a strong, brave soldier of Rohan beg for death," continued Eomer, never moving. "What shall I do, if we find Faramir, whom I love as my brother, and must end his suffering in the same way?"

He raised his head and peered at Aragorn, his handsome face wreathed in sorrow. "How shall I tell my sister, should that come to pass? It shatters me to the bone to think of it, yet I know I must, for it may be so. And I know that the Haradrim are as barbaric and merciless in their interrogations as the Orcs. It may be more of a mercy for Faramir if he is already dead, and the very thought sickens me. Shall I then hear pleas for peace from these same men, Aragorn? Shall I sit in the presence of those who bear the blood of my brother on their hands?"

Aragorn studied his companion, empathy softening his features.

"Those men will find their justice dealt at the end of Gondor's blade, and Rohan's," Aragorn assured him. "And if it is shown that Adir and his tribesmen are numbered among them, they will know my wrath as well. Until that time, I cannot condemn them, for they have shown themselves worthy to my sight. Faramir believed so as well; he would have trusted them with his life."

Eomer thought for a moment, then stood and faced the King of Gondor.

"Perhaps Faramir was wrong," he said quietly, then turned and stared once more onto the grasslands of the Pelennor, his eyes distant and filled with sorrow.

There was undeniable bitterness in Eomer's low tones, and Aragorn eyed him sadly, his soul torn and troubled. In his heart, he believed Adir and his men to be free of the evil that poisoned Karil. But Eomer's words held truth as well, and Aragorn found himself considering the possibility that Adir's tribe was truly alone among the Haradrim in its desire to end its alliance with the agents of Sauron. There seemed little hope for true peace with Harad if most of its people stood with Karil, determined to remain bound to the darkness.

Together they stood and watched the stars drift over the vast expanse below them, each man consumed by his own melancholy thoughts and saying nothing. After some time, Aragorn noticed a small cluster of dark forms moving across the fields in the distance, riding towards the South.

It took only an instant for the King to know that it was Adir and the Haradrim, beginning their long journey home under the cover of darkness.

Without speaking, he watched as they traveled on, faint black specks against the massive landscape. The mountains of Mordor loomed behind them, as if reminding Aragorn of the wickedness that yet dwelled there, waiting to crush all hopes of future peace. Adir and his men seemed so small as they passed before the hulking walls of stone, and for an instant it appeared impossible that mere men could ever dream to overthrow a darkness so old and powerful.

Yet still the distant horsemen rode on, crossing undaunted in the shadow of Sauron's ancient kingdom. Soon they passed to the south and were lost to his eyes, swallowed up in the thick blackness of the night.