When I dare to be powerful – to use my strength in the service of my vision, then it becomes less and less important whether I am afraid. - Morwen Steelsheen in a letter to her sister

Chapter 18

June 3021, Minas Tirith

When the message had first arrived, Arwen had not believed it. She had not thought Estel would just disappear in such way, not when he had been gone for months already. Her next reaction was to be angry with him. How could he go like that, leaving her nothing but a short letter, an unexpected and frankly confusing request, and a vague promise he'd come home as soon as he could?

But then, as Faramir insisted it was indeed true and Aragorn had left with Éowyn and Princess Lothíriel, Arwen had to sit back and think of it... and she understood.

Éomer was very dear to Estel, and despite their differences the two men seemed to regard each other as brothers rather than as friends. It was not difficult for her to guess what had gone through her husband's mind when he had made the decision of joining the Princess and Éowyn; he would feel responsible for what had happened and unless he acted it would tear him apart inside out. If there was a chance of saving his friend, then Arwen knew Estel would not let that chance slip from his fingers. She could wait... but the young King of Rohan did not have that advantage, if he was still alive. Moreover, Aragorn was perhaps one of the few people alive who could hope to succeed in saving him.

So she waited and hoped, and Arwen was rather surprised to hear Prince Imrahil had decided to do the same. She had assumed he would not tolerate his daughter's decision to look for Éomer, but send all three of her brothers after her. But he did not. Instead, he came to Minas Tirith with Faramir to take care of the matters of the realm while Estel was away. By the time they came Captain Feran had already passed through the city along with his guard and the still delirious Captain Éothain; the man was well enough to travel as long as they kept him under the medicines. They had made haste for the Mark, for very soon the Rohirrim would start arriving from the south, and dire times awaited the land of the horselords.

But presently a matter that most sparked the curiosity of the Queen of Gondor and Arnor was indeed the Prince of Dol Amroth, and so one day when Imrahil was in palace she sought him to find out what it was that prevented the man from sending ships to bring home his daughter. It was rather obvious that he did very much worry for Lothíriel: the signs of sleepless nights were there on his face and his expression had become permanently concerned. Any that knew him would guess such expression was not just because of his duties in King Elessar's absence.

That day she found Prince Imrahil by a window, staring out to the Court of Fountain in silence. She had been in the middle of attending to the task Aragorn had asked her to complete. That he had left the cloth of green and white to her care and not in Captain Feran's spoke to her he must have some greater purpose in his mind. Estel was like that - he thought as far ahead as he could.

As she approached him, the face of Prince Imrahil was troubled and his brow heavy with thoughts that very likely consisted of his wayward daughter. Most days now he had this expression... and she wondered, with all the resources of Gondor at his reach, why didn't he do anything when the disappearance of his daughter obviously would so unsettle him?

Quietly, she made way to his side. Imrahil only quickly glanced at her and managed a small smile. But then he turned again to look outside, as though he was trying to reach to his daughter over the distance that now lay between them.

"Why don't you send people to look for her?" Arwen asked gently, searching the face of the Prince. After almost two years as a Queen of Men, mortals still often surprised her. Some things they did would at times seem to have very little sense... but then they'd turn again and prove what great and valiant hearts they possessed. It was different from the Elves and often overlooked by the Firstborn Kin.

"She'd never forgive me if I tried to bring her home", Imrahil said and let out a small sound almost like a laugh, but it was heavy with the tears of a parent who worried for his child. He sighed and rubbed at his forehead, and after a moment of silence he spoke again.

"I understand if you think my lack of actions strange. Not many know my daughter like I do, my lady, or trust her as well... but I believe in her. I do. I do believe in Lothíriel, just as I believe in your husband and Lady Éowyn. If there are three people in this world I would trust to get what they want, it would be them", he said softly, and his words made Arwen lift her eyebrows. Mortal Men could indeed be strange; she knew there were children in her and Estel's future, and she seriously doubted she could ever let her own offspring pursue a quest like this.

Imrahil evidently saw something on her face, for he gave her a smile. The expression wasn't so tearful this time.

"For you to understand why I let her go I should tell you something from a long time ago, my Queen", he started softly and considered her with melancholy eyes. He continued, "When Lothíriel was born, she was very small and weak. The healers did not think she'd live beyond a few days, if even that. My poor wife and myself... we were inconsolable, for we had so wished for a daughter. Then two days after she was born, I sat with my infant child in my arms through the night, convinced she would not see the morning. There she slept quiet and calm, and I thought each breath she drew would be her last."

"But some time after midnight she opened her eyes and looked at me. It almost seemed like she knew what was happening and that she wasn't meant to live. The look in her eyes then... it is probably just because of my tired, grief-stricken mind, but it was as if she understood, but had decided to live anyway – was too stubborn to give up even then. Then she went back to sleep, and I sat awake until the morning. She lived and I knew that she had some purpose in this world – some fate I could not see at the time. I saw how that little girl fought then, and I suppose it has always impacted how I perceive her, and what she has grown to be. I like to humorously say she's a fay's child. Maybe that's true even."

He lifted a hand to wipe an errant tear from his cheek, and Arwen rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. She could understand Imrahil's point of view, for she felt her own father would have thought something similar... he'd have seen great significance in a child living when it looked like she wasn't going to. The thought of her father tore at a wound in her heart, but the Queen of Gondor and Arnor pushed it away.

After a while, Imrahil began to speak again.

"She was very young when her mother died. My daughter barely remembers her... and I admit that for some time I was so stricken by grief that I buried myself in work. I was not the best father back then, I see that now. And often my duties would take me to Minas Tirith, where I couldn't look after my children", he went on. The mention of his late wife brought a shadow of old sorrow on his face, but the mention of his living family chased it away.

"They sometimes ran a bit wild when I was gone. And Lothíriel had no mother to act as a role model – she was stuck with three boys in a world where war was always looming in horizon. It was their games she took part in, and learned the same skills as they did. I admit I felt guilty for being absent so often and it seemed to me I should make up for it somehow, so I perhaps allowed her more than I should have", Imrahil murmured. He glanced at Arwen, almost looking as though he was hoping for her approval. She gave him a slight smile and he continued speaking once more.

"Along with her brothers, Lothíriel learned archery and swordplay. In fact, I can rather proudly tell you that she's the best archer in all of Dol Amroth, and she knows her way around with a sword about as well as any man. My nephew Boromir especially liked to teach her – he always saw potential in her, and often he would laugh and tell us all that with a bit of work she could be unstoppable. She... I do think she can take care of herself. She can fight and defend herself and pick her battles, and if Aragorn and Éowyn have gone with her... perhaps it would be different if she had gone alone, but I have absolute faith in your husband, my lady, and Éowyn too. Éomer's sister will teach her patience, and Aragorn will know to look after my daughter, if need be – help her to use her head alongside her heart", the Prince explained, his voice falling quiet for a while, and Arwen saw sudden hope on the man's face.

"But the most important thing is that if I tried to stand in her way... if I tried to bring her back, and prevent her from looking for her betrothed, she'd never forgive me. And it would drive her insane, not knowing how it could have turned out if she just had the chance to find out Éomer's fate on her own. She'd keep asking for the rest of her life if she could have done something", Imrahil said and let out a sigh. "She adores him, the way I never expected her to adore anyone. But perhaps I should have guessed the moment I first beheld Éomer. They're both hot-tempered and quite mad. Made for each other, really. And it's not like Lothíriel to give up on something she has invested her heart in."

He fell silent at last and appeared to become aware of what lengthy speech he had made. Imrahil looked slightly abashed and he bowed his head at the Queen.

"Forgive me, my lady. I didn't mean to ramble on in such a way", he said apologetically, but Arwen gave him a gentle smile that would hopefully show she understood that he had needed to say aloud these things.

"It is fine, my lord", she said serenely. "And I do have a feeling you're right to have faith in them. Estel has always found his way through the dark, and something tells me your daughter has the same gift... and only a fool would stand on the way of Lady Éowyn. If King Éomer is indeed alive, it is those three who will find out the truth and bring him back."

The Pearl of Uinen nearing Umbar

The morning after the storm was clear and bright and the wind was gentle, casting a stark contrast to the last night's tempest. Captain Cairon estimated they would be arriving to Umbar by evening, which left the three travellers with an anxious mood. They all wanted to start for the road and begin the search for real, but first there was an important task waiting for them.

"Opash is the name of the man you need to talk with", said Cairon; part of the deal had been he'd take the travellers to see a contact of his. "He is what you would call an eccentric man and dangerous, but as long as you stay in good terms with him, he's the friendliest fellow you'll ever meet."

Looking from Aragorn to the two women, the captain frowned slightly.

"He takes offence from strangest things sometimes, so you should watch your words when you talk to him", he continued. "I trust you have currency to pay him with? You see, his help doesn't come for free. Though sometimes he may ask you a favour rather than gold."

"We shall deal with that then. Just take us to him, and we'll see to the rest", Aragorn simply said. Lothíriel wasn't sure what he was thinking, but at least she felt slightly uneasy. The way Cairon talked about this Opash did not reassure her particularly - treading with him would take great care. However, if he could help them on this quest, then they would do what needed to be done.

Captain Cairon nodded, leaving the three to make their plans for when they'd land in Umbar. To have some privacy they made for their cabin. Once they were seated there, Éowyn looked at the King of Arnor and Gondor and asked: "Have you met this Opash before? Do you know anything about him?"

Aragorn shook his head.

"No, I can't say that I have. He must have established himself here after my time. But it is not difficult to imagine what sort of man he is", he replied, frowning slightly. He sighed, "It's probably going to be dangerous. Perhaps you two could..."

He didn't finish the sentence, for he looked up and he must have seen the expressions on the faces of two women. Unsaid things hovered in the air: we're not letting you go alone, you might need us, who knows what's waiting for us there...

"Well", Aragorn said then. Evidently he had already been convinced this was not worth the argument. "We will have to be careful with this man. I should be able to make the proper bargains with him... you need to follow my lead and let me handle it."

"I don't suppose weapons will be of any use there?" Lothíriel mused half-heartedly. Truthfully she didn't like this idea one bit, especially because she had no experience of dealing with men like this Opash, but it could very well be their only chance of getting information on Éomer's whereabouts. She didn't know how she and Éowyn would have handled this if they had come alone, and suddenly she was even more grateful for Aragorn's presence than she had previously been.

"Not at all. If anything, aggressive behaviour would just put off this Opash. And if we are going to find and rescue Éomer, we need to stay alive", he confirmed.

"We trust in your guidance", Éowyn said simply, but Aragorn looked doubtful.

"Let us hope your trust is not wrongly placed in me", he said, shaking his head. But Lothíriel reached to pat his arm.

"Don't worry, dearest Father. Captain Cairon said this Opash fellow is just difficult, not a dragon. We watch our step, be friendly and pay whatever gold he wants, and as soon as everything is done we get going", she consoled him. Her chosen name for him made Aragorn lift his eyebrows.

"Dearest Father?" he asked, at which she smiled.

"Well, I'm supposed to be your offspring here, am I not?" Lothíriel asked and sniggered. Éowyn chortled.

"That does give me some terribly odd ideas", she commented, "And my brother as Aragorn's son-in-law is not the least of them."

He let out a soft laugh at that.

"Perhaps it is fairly strange", he allowed, smiling now. "And I think Éomer should enjoy the joke as well."

Lothíriel's first instinct was to laugh at the idea, but then a thought came to her – and judging by the expressions on the faces of her companions, it occurred to them as well – and she wondered if the man they were trying to save would have any laughter left in him after his captivity.

The deserts of Harad

Fanara had returned from gathering some herbs from the desert – she had even found some precious dreamroot, the chief ingredient of the potion of the living dead – when Nata came running for her. From the look of distress on the girl's face she immediately knew something was wrong, and she braced herself for some bad news. She already had a strong suspicion about what, or who, this was about.

"Mother! You must come! He's going to kill Shaugit!" Nata frantically exclaimed.

"What? Who is going to kill Shaugit?" Fanara asked, though she knew the answer; she just didn't understand how that would happen. Her nephew should very well know better than to get close to the horselord... but perhaps the young man hadn't quite understood yet what a dangerous thing his father kept as prisoner.

"The northerner! He's got Shaugit and he's going to kill my cousin, because they're not letting him go!" Nata replied. Her answer didn't make much sense, but Fanara quickly made for the edge of the camp where the cage was located. There she found a crowd gathered and she had to use some measured violence to get through.

What she saw was Shaugit in the deadly embrace of the prisoner (she guessed that had happened during the daily outing their prisoner was allowed, mostly out of her insistence), who had locked his arms about Shaugit's neck, and all it would take was just a snap for him to kill the young man. That was the reason they did not dare jump him and beat him down, because all knew what deadly reflexes this man had, and Shaugit would be dead before they had chance to beat back the prisoner. Around the two there was an empty ring of some six feet, as none dared approach. Sapat wasn't there, because he had gone hunting with some of his men. It was probably fortunate for the horselord, because if Sapat had been here he'd probably order him killed the moment he let go of Shaugit.

"Please! Let me go!" cried the young man as Fanara arrived to the scene.

"How does it feel now, having your life in the hands of someone who does not care for your life?" growled the horselord. "Stop shrieking and tell them to do as I say!"

"Aunt! Help me!" Shaugit pleaded at the sight of Fanara. His eyes were full of terror now, painting a stark contrast to how excited he had been about the prisoner before. He had never seen men of Rohan before, and truthfully speaking the horselord was something to inspire curiosity as long as you remembered to keep a safe distance.

"Shaugit, I need you to calm down. I'll handle this – you're going to be all right", she told him quickly in their own language. He fell quiet but horror never left his gaze.

Fanara stepped forward and spread her arms in a gesture that, she hoped, emanated peaceful intentions. She sought the northman's dark eyes and knew he would kill Shaugit right there in the front of the tribe, even though there were children watching, unless she was able to reach him.

"Horselord", she spoke, trying for a calming tone. "Please, let my nephew go."

"I will let him go once you have brought me my sword and supplies for a journey", he demanded, his voice a hoarse, terrible rasp. The hold of his arms about Shaugit's throat became slightly tighter, making the young man whimper.

"Even if I do that for you, do you think Sapat will just let you go? You won't get far before he finds you", she pointed out. "You may be a king in your own land, and if we were there now we would not stand a chance, but this is the land of Haradrim. As you know each hill of your realm, so have we inherited each grain of sand on these deserts. You would never find your way back home before my brother would catch you, and then he might not even leave you with your life."

"Then perhaps I don't want my life, if it is for him to decide", growled the horselord. That moment there was something so black in his eyes that Fanara trembled, and she was certain he'd kill Shaugit.

"Please. Don't do this to yourself", she pleaded, hoping that he might see through that burning and blinding anger, and understand how futile it was... but then, perhaps he was beyond seeing reason now, and who could blame him?

"I warn you, woman. I will kill this man if you don't -" said the horselord... but then it came: while she had been trying to speak to the horselord, some guards had sneaked up behind him, and now three of them caught him. He tried to snap the neck of Shaugit, but it was too late – they were already on his arms. This development encouraged a couple of Shaugit's friends and they jumped on the man too, beating him to the ground. Sapat's son had fallen too and was coughing and gasping for air.

Tears filled Fanara's eyes as she watched them, and she knew the look of desperate hatred on the face the northman would haunt her for a long, long time.

June 3021, Umbar

The havens of Umbar rose from the sea like a city built of pale seashells glittering in the sunlight. This far south the sea had an unreal shade of blue, making the sight before Lothíriel even more breathtaking. It reminded her a lot of the cities of Gondor, and knew that was because it had been Númenoreans who had first build this place long time ago. Umbar had been under the rule of Sea-kings, and after the Downfall it had been a part of Gondor. But that was long ago, and kings of Men governed here no more. The city they saw was fully independent, ruled by powerful merchants and pirate lords.

The structure of the city could very well be Númenorean but the sights and sounds and smells they saw on the streets were anything but. It was an alien world to Lothíriel who had never travelled this far in her life. In Pelargir and Dol Amroth she had seen sometimes merchants from this part of the world, but nothing could prepare one for Umbar.

Captain Cairon and couple of his men were their guides as they made way through the narrow streets near the port. It was difficult to focus on that and keep sight of the back of Aragorn's head, as everywhere around her there were wondrous things to see, and the air was heavy with dust and smoke and foods. Merchants selling products from exotic spices to rare pieces of jewellery, animals of every kind screaming and croaking and yapping and chirping, men with skin so dark it was like night itself rested upon them, bulky carriers bearing luxurious curtained litters, veiled women whose painted eyes spoke of things unheard... to Lothíriel it was like a chaotic, colourful dream.

Cairon had sent one of his men to take a message the moment they had docked, and less than half an hour later the man had returned with a word that Opash was waiting for them. Now Cairon was taking them to see this merchant lord in one of his lodgings near the port. From all that she had heard Lothíriel had already gathered Opash was a powerful man, and most of his might did not come from his business. She couldn't say the implication much consoled her, though she knew their chances of finding information on Éomer depended on this very thing. Altogether she felt the sooner they were finished with him the better.

The building they finally stopped by was not what one would expect when hearing of a man like Opash. It was nondescript and even ramshackle, but Lothíriel decided it was probably the point; perhaps the man had a proper palace in some other part of the city. Before Captain Cairon knocked on the door he gave a pointed look at the three travellers and muttered quietly: "Remember what I said."

With that ominous note he turned and his knuckles hit the wood of the door three times. A man size of a bear opened it and let them in silently, and another was there to receive them. Without a word they were escorted to an inner court. Lothíriel wasn't sure what she had expected but the discreet air of sophistication still surprised her somewhat: if the house had looked poor outside, it was nothing of the sort inside the walls. She thought even Aunt Ivriniel with her extremely cultivated tastes would have approved of the decorative choices of Opash's house.

"Wait here", said the man who had lead them there; he looked like one of Captain Cairon's crew, who was apparently born and raised Umbarian, but his garb was much more refined.

Lothíriel spied a quick look from her friends. Aragorn maintained a calm countenance that gave out nothing, and Éowyn held similar appearance. She only hoped her own act would hold together just as well.

Her feeling of uneasiness might have grown into a proper panic attack had not Opash arrived then. The tall doors before the three were opened from inside, and into the inner court came a group of five finely dressed men, three of whom looked like some kind of body guards. They were lead by a short man dressed in crimson robes. He had kind of a wiry look about him, but he was indeed shorter than Lothíriel, and next to Aragorn, the descendant of Elendil the Tall, he might have looked like a child. His thick black hair had elaborate braids in it with pieces of jewellery, the kind she had seen on some men when they had walked through the streets. By his face she couldn't tell if he was a pleasant man or not, but she took note of his dark, scrutinising eyes and full, sensual lips. Though no words had yet been exchanged somehow Lothíriel already knew she was looking at the man called Opash.

He approached Captain Cairon, whom he kissed on both cheeks. The sailor replied the greeting in similar manner.

"Captain Cairon", he spoke up then and spread his arms, "Good to see you back in Umbar. Planning to stay long?"

He spoke Westron very well, though he had a thick accent. He was smiling, but Lothíriel did not dare to take that for a good sign.

"I'm not sure yet, old friend. I trust you're well? And business is fine as ever?" asked the captain.

"One can't complain", said Opash modestly, casting a glance towards the three travellers, who had remained quiet. "Who are these people you have brought into my house?"

"This here is Nordir, an old friend of mine. He is a man of business like ourselves – he rents his sword to those who happen to need it at the moment. The young fellow is his son Tangion, another man of business in training. They are escorting this lovely lady here, who is called Mistress Hild of Rohan."

Cairon had half turned towards the three to introduce them to his associate. He continued speaking, "They are searching for Hild's brother, who has got lost in these parts. It happened so luckily that they found me in the port of Pelargir, and I perceived that the best way to acquire information on the lady's errant brother would be by seeking your help. My friends, allow me to introduce you to Master Opash, one of the finest merchants in the city of Umbar."

Opash had listened to the introductions quietly, his eyes travelling from Cairon to the three travellers. As Cairon spoke, he studied them all one at a time in a way that felt slightly uncomfortable. But Lothíriel met his eyes just as her companions did.

When Cairon fell silent and moved aside to make way for the three travellers, Aragorn made an elegant bow towards the Umbarian man.

"It is an honour to meet you, Master Opash. I humbly ask that you might do business with us to find Mistress Hild's brother. I am told you make it your concern to know what happens in this city, and that if one is in the need of information you are the best man to provide it. I promise you shall be generously compensated for all your trouble", he said in a respectful tone and made another bow at the end of the sentence.

Opash was quiet for a long while, regarding the three in a way that made Lothíriel feel like he was reading their thoughts. It went on longer than she was comfortable with, but Lothíriel knew showing any kind of anxiety would not help their cause. So she kept her expression as bland as she was able.

"I shall bargain... but not with you, sellsword, nor with the woman of Rohan", Opash announced, turning to look at Lothíriel. "I shall bargain with this young woman."

Lothíriel's mouth fell open, but Aragorn was faster than that at least.

"I'm afraid I don't understand. Tangion here is my son", he said. There was nothing about his tone that even smelled of lie.

"Uh, yes, I'm very much a man", she stuttered, though as soon as those words were out of her mouth Lothíriel wished she would just have kept quiet. And truthfully the Umbarian man was not moved at all. Instead, he let out a soft chuckle.

"It's a good disguise, but not good enough", he said in a soft voice and gave her a charming smile, though it did nothing to console her. "It's quite obvious to be honest. You can hide your body inside those shapeless clothes, but you can't hide your eyes... and I have always believed that eyes are the mirror of the soul."

She didn't know what that was supposed to mean or how it revealed her sex, but that didn't really matter now, especially when he went on, "Now, do you bargain with me or not?"

"I will", said Lothíriel and took a step forward. "What do you want?"

Opash made a soft noise that resembled a snort.

"Not here, obviously. May I suggest something more private – perhaps my chambers?" he asked, his smile widening.

Had the situation been any other, Lothíriel would have punched him, or kicked him, or stabbed him – she wasn't sure which one she would have picked, but it didn't matter, since her main wish was causing pain. She had to bite her tongue not to tell him where he could stick his offer, and while she was concentrating on just holding back her fury, Aragorn stepped forward.

"I beg your pardon but I can't allow this, Master Opash. If you would just listen to me-" he tried, but Opash lifted a hand.

"The disguised lady here will bargain with me", he announced in a loud voice that for the first time held anything that even resembled hardness, "or there is no deal."

Aragorn turned towards Lothíriel, "You don't have to-"

But she didn't let him continue. Gently she touched his arm.

"I can handle this, Father", she told him. The face of her liege-lord was deeply troubled, as was that of Éowyn – they both looked like they might just grab her and whisk her away from this place... but it could be their only chance of getting information on Éomer. So the princess turned her eyes towards Opash and hardened herself.

"If you would show the way, Master Opash", she grunted.

The Umbarian man smiled and offered her his arm. She placed a hand there... and prayed to Elbereth that she might find a way through this alive.

The deserts of Harad

The punishment was simple enough.

In the middle of the camp there was a great pole erected. It was thick and over eight feet tall, and transporting this piece always took effort, but it played the central part in Sapat's favourite way of punishing those who angered him, and so the pole was hauled from place to place when the tribe moved.

From the top of the pole dangled a metal chain, which ended in shackles. As the horselord was considerably taller than men who usually got this treatment it had to be shortened, but in the end the chain was just the right length: they shackled his hands above his head, so high that as he hang there his feet just barely reached ground - enough to whisper with the blessed support earth could provide.

And the northman was a large fellow. Supporting the weight of his body with his wrists through the night would first be painful, and the longer it went on the more it would hurt, until it would turn into pure torment as the metal of shackles dug into his flesh. Few times Fanara had witnessed men screaming for mercy after having to endure a night on the pole. It wasn't just about the pain, though; it was also about humiliation. By the time Fanara came to him it was already night and the crowd had long since grown tired of throwing things and bits and pieces that frankly made her disgusted to be a member of this tribe.

When she came, he looked up. The cut above his left eyebrow had long since closed but no one had dared or cared enough to get close and clean up the dried blood that made him look terrifying, like a fierce beast emerging from a battle. But now its effect could not veil the agony clinging to his features. He couldn't hide his expression fast enough and the glimpse of it made her heart ache.

"What do you want?" he barked anyway, though he had to know she had seen through his guard.

"You must be thirsty", Fanara said softly and lifted up a flagon she had carried. "May I...?"

It appeared his thirst was more urgent than any show of pride, as he nodded quietly. Carefully she approached him and opened the flagon, which she then lifted up on his chapped lips. The flagon was nearly empty by the time he pulled back his head and sighed.

"I'm sorry", she murmured, though the apology was already starting to sound old and worn even in her own ears. No amount of apologising could make up for this, which she understood very well.

"Let me go", he said in a quiet, tired voice.

Fanara did not respond. Instead, she took the piece of cloth she had in her pocket, and used it to wipe some grime from the man's skin. She didn't even want to know what that was.

"Mother", called the voice of Nata all of a sudden, "What are you doing?"

She turned to look at her daughter who stood some feet away, watching this scene with wide eyes. She was the only one up and around at this late hour; she must have heard Fanara going out from their tent.

"It is called being a human", Fanara said in their own tongue. "It is called compassion."

"But he tried to kill Shaugit", Nata argued, though her mother could already see doubt dawning in the girl's eyes.

"He just wants to go home", she told the young one softly. "He just wants this to end already."

The girl didn't say anything at first. She stood there quietly, her eyes that were so like her father's moving from Fanara to the horselord, and the woman could almost see the thoughts pass on her daughter's face.

At last Nata moved. She came slowly, but Fanara knew she was ready to leap away if the northman showed any sign of sudden movements. But though the man watched Nata's every move, he did nothing, not even when Nata was next to him.

Fanara's daughter crouched and began to work, and he quickly understood what she was doing. He readily lifted his feet to help her... and soon there was a pile of sand there, and when he lowered his feet he could stand again.

Umbar

The private chambers of Opash followed the same discreet sophistication she had seen in her way here: though materials were obviously of rich quality, nothing was over the top or glaring. After the chaotic mixture of noise and colour outside, this was unexpected.

Opash had left Lothíriel alone for the moment in the spacious bedchamber, but he had promised to join her in a moment, and presently she was seated on the edge of the bed trying not to go into hysterics. As the moments dragged by she grew more and more certain she would throw up any moment now. What had she got herself into?

It was obvious what Opash had meant when he had said he wanted to bargain with her. The price of this deal was not lost to her and it made her sick. For to make this man to help them she would have to... she'd have to be like one of those women who sold their bodies. From a princess to a prostitute...

Éomer was the only man she had ever been with, and frankly she had no desire to share that intimacy with anyone else. And she had promised him her love and her life, and if she did this... the mere idea was loathsome. Could she betray the man she loved in order to save him? With terrible certainty, she knew she would not be able to look him in the eyes if she did this.

Her panicky thoughts were then disrupted, for the door of the chamber was opened, and there was Opash. The mere sight of him there, dressed in nothing but a golden robe that was quite possibly about as precious as any piece of jewellery, made her want to run away screaming. But it also made her want to kick herself.

I didn't come this far to be defeated. I must not be afraid.

"There you are, young lady. Glad to see you have already made yourself comfortable..." he said most charmingly and leisurely strolled to a table by the wall, on which stood a decanter containing some golden liquid. He lifted it and asked: "Would you care for a drink?"

"No thank you", Lothíriel uttered. Her hand had fallen on the side of her thigh, and through the fabric she felt the comforting hardness of a hidden blade.

"It is very good, the finest you can find in these parts. I would recommend it, lady, if just to help you relax", he offered.

"I'd rather not", she replied. That went both for the drink and the idea of relaxing.

"Well, you must tell me if you change your mind", said Opash and downed the drink. Then he approached her, his movements resembling her of some desert snake.

"Now, if we should get to that bargaining part..." he said in soft tones. His smile was starting to revolt her more than just a little.

"Indeed", she mumbled, staring hard at the Umbarian man. She wondered if he couldn't see it – surely her loathing was clear on her face?

You can't have me.

"Really, usually I find that successful business requires a bit more life and enthusiasm..." Opash murmured, reaching to touch her face.

All of her concentration exploded into that one instance of speed and force, and the man stood no chance; she grabbed that out-reached hand, pulled him, and tossed him on his back on the bed, and before he could even understand what was taking place she had already pressed the blade of her dagger against his neck. The lessons in hand-to-hand combat on the ship went like flashes before her eyes, etched into her muscles, and she made a mental note of having to thank the sailor who had taught her... if she made it alive out of this place, that was.

"If you let out as much as a whimper without my leave, I'm going to cut you in pieces", she hissed, glaring at the man, and she had never felt such fury as she felt then, and she wanted to scream her rage; she was here forced to bargain with this Umbarian and he held in his hands the life of Éomer... it wasn't fair, it was a nightmare, and she just wanted back the one she loved...

"Now, there's no need for violence, my dear", said Opash in his thick Westron. His words raised anew the desperate fury in her heart and she leaned down closer, so that her face was only inches away from his. Somehow, he did not even look worried for his life.

"I'm not your dear and presently I am this close to tearing you apart. Please, give me a reason", she snarled at him, masking her doubts and fear with anger. He remained absolutely unmoving – he didn't even try anything that could be considered an attempt of self-defence.

"It seems you've just given me a valuable lesson, lady. One should never underestimate women who choose to wear disguises... as in your case, they obviously hide a terrible thing", he said softly, staring up at her with what she could only call admiration. It surprised her, but now was not the time to be amazed by things.

"Stop wasting my time, you villain. Now we bargain, and the deal is this: you give me what I want, or I cut off that thing between you legs and make you eat it. Right here. Right now. Do you understand?" she snapped. Well, it wasn't very imaginative and he had probably received threats far more intimidating before, but it wasn't like she often did something like this.

"And what it is you want, Lady in Disguise?" asked Opash. He was sounding far more cooperative than she'd have thought.

"We are looking for a man. He was taken captive by a Haradrim tribe, and we need to know which one. You will do... whatever it is that you do, and find out who took him", Lothíriel answered. She was still pressing her blade against his neck but he didn't seem terribly concerned.

Opash smiled.

"You have a deal, lady", he said without hesitation. Nothing moved on his face or eyes that could mean betrayal or scheming, and she frowned. Surely he wasn't just going to give her what she wanted?

"Are you mocking me?" she demanded to know, pressing her dagger even tighter against his neck. "What game are you playing?"

"None whatsoever, fair one. We have bargained and the deal is made, and as soon as you release me I'm going to find out what there is to be found of this man you're seeking... though I may need some more details if you wish me to succeed", Opash replied, relaxing on his back.

"I haven't even given you anything and you're still going to do that? How do I know you're not going to call one of those bulky men of yours the moment I release you?" Lothíriel asked. This was turning out more and more confusing by the second.

"You have already given me something, even if it is not so obvious to you... I'm certain to make love to you would be a great pleasure if you were willing... but you're not, and more than laying with a woman who hates every second of it I enjoy being conquered by a lady who fights so fiercely for what she wants. I don't think you understand just how utterly, absolutely beautiful you were when you fought and threatened me. You possess a rare spirit... I don't suppose we could make another deal? You tell me who you are, and I give you the finest jewels in Umbar?" he inquired. On his face there was a wide smile that reminded her of some feline.

"My identity is not something I would trade for baubles", she informed him stiffly.

"Hmm. A smart move, though I must say I'm disappointed. Are you willing to put a price on that information?" asked Opash.

"No. It's none of your business", Lothíriel huffed. "But you have not yet convinced me that I should trust you. Surely my threat wasn't so impressive that you'd just give in like that?"

"Oh, you're quite right. I've heard threats like that before – it wasn't very original to be honest. But I saw you would have done it, even if such violence is against your nature. You would have hated yourself for it but you would have gone through with your threat if I had chosen to defy you... one rarely sees determination so strong. You would tear yourself apart for this man you're trying to find", he said, his voice turning surprisingly soft. "He's a lucky man, to have someone love him so fiercely."

"Yes, I would tear myself apart for him. I would do anything for him. But you should know I would tear apart you as well, unless you swear to me you're going to find out where he is", Lothíriel growled, though her fury and despair had already dissolved.

"I do swear so on my life and on my businessman's honour", said Opash very seriously. That moment, she couldn't see the faintest trace of deceit in him. And because he was her only chance, she decided to trust him.

"Fine", she said, relaxing just slightly, though she was still ready to cut him if he did something suspicious. She frowned then, "Aren't you going to even ask me to let you go?"

Opash let out a soft, gentle laugh.

"Why should I? I rather like making deals on my back with a beautiful woman on the top of me", he told her humorously.

She didn't hesitate one second before slapping him.

Opash was a man of his word.

When Lothíriel had removed her blade from his throat and pulled back, all he did was sit up, pour himself another drink, and then he asked what was it precisely she wanted him to find out. She made the explanation as curt as she was able: there had been a battle on the road to Gondor, and a company or Rohirric Riders had been killed. She told Opash she wanted him to find anyone who might have seen the affair.

He was obviously a man who saw a lot and guessed more, and she knew he'd make his own judgements by this information... but truth was he wouldn't be able to help them unless he knew what to look for. She didn't like the knowledge he knew this much already, as it gave him certain power over them. But Opash was a businessman and he had given her his word, and she hoped that would be enough.

If it wasn't, there were more things than just herself she would tear apart.

After she had told him everything he needed, he suggested she go and find her friends. Lothíriel's heart was lighter when she exited the chamber, and a man who looked like some kind of a servant told her where she'd find her companions.

They were waiting for her in what seemed like a parlour, and it was slightly more extravagant than other rooms she had seen so far. There was no sign of Captain Cairon and his men, and she guessed they had returned to the ship. As soon as she entered, Aragorn and Éowyn both turned to stare at her uneasily. It was easy to guess what they were currently thinking, and so she gave them a smile.

"Relax, you two. Neither of you will have to take revenge for my ruined virtue", she said lightly. Her friends looked surprised and they glanced at each other.

"What happened?" Éowyn wanted to know. She still looked like she might go after Opash anyway.

"I just told him I'd cut off his manhood and feed it to him", Lothíriel answered and let out a small, hysterical laughter. Éowyn blinked.

"Well. That's very gruesome", she said, not quite able to hide her shock.

"I know, but it was the only thing I could think of at the moment. Perhaps you'll understand", said the princess and grimaced. "And it worked, which is the important thing. Opash has promised to find out if there is anyone here in Umbar who might know anything about Éomer."

Aragorn got on his feet, crossed the distance between them, and gave the princess a hug so tight it almost hurt. Such was the strength of his emotion that he lifted her up from the ground and twirled her around before putting her back down. When he did, he was smiling, and in his eyes was light.

"You are unbelievable, dear girl", was all he could say, and the happy tears on the face of Éowyn confirmed she thought the same.

Lothíriel gave her friends a brilliant grin.

"We are going to find him. And we will bring him home."

A/N: And now we have reached Umbar. I must say this chapter was fun to write, even if there are some heavier themes present, and Éomer certainly is going through some very difficult things. However, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

I thought to show a bit of Imrahil's thoughts in the beginning of the chapter. Lothíriel herself doesn't really understand it, but he does actually have faith in her. He also knows that trying to make her come home would destroy what chance she has in finding some sort of resolution. But as Imrahil says himself, he'd have reacted differently if Lothíriel had gone all alone. However, the knowledge that Éowyn and Aragorn have gone with her consoles him, and he trusts they will be able to keep his daughter out of trouble. Though if he knew about Opash Imrahil might change his mind...

Also I know there are some perhaps slightly unclear statements made in the section from Arwen's POV, but I assure you they're there for purpose.

With Opash, I decided not to go the moustache twirling villain route where he'd just demand to have our princess in his bed. I thought that would have been a too simplistic approach to his character, especially when I instantly knew he'd be a very complex fellow. Make no mistake: he's certainly everything but a law-abiding citizen and in many things he's not a good man. But he can be a gentleman when he wants and he loves to be surprised. He's a hedonist and would never enjoy having sex with someone who clearly doesn't want it, but I think he has a thing for ladies manhandling him as we see Lothíriel doing here.

You may have spied a reference to the song "I Will Wait" by Mumford & Sons in the chapter: that would of course be Imrahil's words "to use her head alongside her heart". I've been falling in love with this band lately, and I recommend especially their songs "Dust Bowl Dance", the previously mentioned "I Will Wait", and "After the Storm".

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Quote in the beginning originally by Audre Lorde.

Inspiration for the chapter: Woodkid - Iron

UntilNeverDawns - Thanks for the compliment! And yes, it might take a while before they find our favourite horselord. But they're working on it!

DepthsOfMySubconsciousness - That's usually for the best, because the stories do tend to explain themselves! I'm glad to hear you were convinced of Aragorn's motives. :) Also I'd think his presence would be important for that reason too, because he should be able to keep his head clear, and that could turn out important.

As for writing, it's good to know what are your weak points, because that's pretty much the only way you can work on them and improve your skills. Just keep practising and you'll be great!

Wondereye - Thanks for pointing that out - I suppose the timeline hasn't been the clearest. Presently we are in early June.

annafan - I know what I'm doing with this story right now is bold, but personally I've always believed fanfiction is the one place where you can play with bold moves and fantastic developments. If I was trying to write a story for publishing I wouldn't be going this route at all. But my aim is to entertain and I'm pleased if that is what this story has managed to do for you.

AmyRenee – I'm sad to hear you think character-wise I haven't stayed true to the original version. In my defence, I must say I never attempted for Tolkien's high epic style, but I did believe I had right the key elements of the characters. And anyway, the point on which we are now takes place two years after the war ended – which is where Return of the King ends, and to all these characters a lot of things has happened, so I don't think they would even be and sound the same they as before. I don't want to write static characters.

Also, I'm not so convinced this would be very well received as an original story. For one, I've built the story on the canon of Tolkien, and I believe that influence would show even if I just changed the names. If I wanted to write an original story I'd wish it to be truly original and not just fanfiction converted into something it's not. Moreover, I feel the devices and plotlines I use are too bold for an original story. So altogether this is a story that is in my opinion so rooted in the fanfiction that it would not work in any other way, and as a writer I feel that an attempt to make it something else would be dishonest.

Talia119 - Here's a bit more of Shaugit! We'll see how he turns out...

I haven't heard of that story you mentioned - I'm wondering if I should check it out, but I don't really want anyone else's writing affect my own. Anyway, hope you liked this chapter!

Emelda Jones - More than missing his old life, I see Aragorn feeling morally obliged to help finding Éomer.

I thought it would be a good idea to show a bit of what is going on with the tribe. For one, I'm sure everyone is curious as to what is happening to our favourite horselord, but I also want to develop Fanara and establish her character properly.

MairaElleth - Thank you for the review and your kind words! I confess I sometimes get kind of self-conscious of my own writing, and I can't objectively tell if the pace is too slow or fast, and if I'm explaining enough or too much. So it's good to hear a positive response on this matter! Hopefully you will continue to enjoy the story!