My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.
I love what I do not have. You are so far.
My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.
But night comes and starts to sing to me.
- Aedwulf the Singer

Chapter 19

June 3021, the city of Umbar

The way down to Umbar was never made quickly, as the leagues between the tribelands and the ancient city were long and tedious. Probably because of this the city was always a welcome sight, and so it was this time when Ashpar arrived there along with the rest of the company sent by Chieftain Krual.

Gajalm was leading the men as usual. He was always in charge when Krual sent them to do business in Umbar, as Gajalm was the most skilled in bargaining and had the widest contacts in the city. As such, he also knew where to find the best goods. Ashpar had never liked Gajalm very much but he had learned to put up with the other man, especially because trips to Umbar provided some change to the dull tribe life on the deserts.

Sometimes, Ashpar wasn't sure why he hadn't left behind that life already.

Upon their arrival, Gajalm made the regular speech to the men, all of whom were anxious to get to the city and enjoy the many pleasures Umbar had to offer.

"Now, I know you're dying to go and squander all your money on wine and women, but those of you who don't make an appearance tomorrow morning when the sun rises may consider it a waste of time to return at all. We have not come here to seek pleasure and entertainment but to attend to the business of the tribe. Krual shall know all that goes while we stay in this city, and misconduct will not be tolerated. Is this clear?" Gajalm asked sternly, at which the men made vague sounds of agreement. His eyes rested on Ashpar, but he said nothing, and the men dispersed.

Ashpar made his way quickly as he didn't want to be tailed by any of the younger men among the company; he had no interest in watching their backs in the city and its nightly dangers. After all, this was Umbar, and after dusk some parts of it resembled jungle more than a sophisticated settlement of Men.

The gold in his purse was turning heavy at this point. He had taken it from dead horselords, and he was anxious to spend that northern currency. He had never had any qualms about raiding the battlefield, and the men they had taken down on the road to Gondor had been wealthy. Krual had not said who those riders had been, and to be frank Ashpar did not really care. It wasn't his concern what Krual and that friend of his, Sapat was the man's name, schemed and plotted. If they wanted to slaughter horselords or take them as captives, it wasn't his business. Still, he didn't remember with great fondness how angry Krual had been when he had noticed Ashpar cleaning the dead northmen of their more valuable possessions. The chief had always been strangely attached to his notions of honour.

It didn't take Ashpar long to find his favourite pleasure house, which was located on the eastern side of the city, and was happy to find that Nujola was still working there – he decided it had been far too long since he had last enjoyed her company, and he had missed that trick she did with her tongue.

By the time Nujola sent him on his way the sun had already set and he went forth to find some food and wine, and he stopped by a noisy inn; perhaps after a few drinks he could return to Nujola's bed and stay there until sunrise.

When Ashpar made his way to the counter and ordered wine, the innkeeper gave him a sceptical look.

"Let's have a look at your purse first", said the man, and Ashpar groaned. He didn't know why, but these merchants and winesellers always thought him some penniless drunkard. Nevertheless, he dug through his purse and showed the innkeeper a piece of gold: it had been a brooch which he had hacked in pieces, and only the horse-head remained to speak of its origin.

"Does this suffice, old man?" asked Ashpar. "This here is rare northern gold from the horseland, and I bet you have never seen anything like it. I reckon it's valuable enough to buy this miserable hole of yours."

An interested look had sparked in the man's eyes and he leaned closer.

"Northern gold, you say? Let me see", he asked, but Ashpar pulled back his hand.

"Not before you've brought me some wine and food, old man", he smiled and turned around to look for a nice place to sit. Food and wine came, and pleasant company as well, and Ashpar considered it was always worth the effort to endure the journey. This was the life.

Sapat's camp

They had eventually released the horselord from the pole and taken him back to his cage. The man had possessed the good sense to kick off the pile of sand beneath his feet before sunrise, so when Sapat had not found him tormented and begging for mercy, Fanara had seen the puzzlement and vague dissatisfaction on her brother's face. Then, frustrated by the northman unexplained endurance, he had ordered the guards to take the prisoner away. Fanara had asked for her brother to allow the man at least bathe, but Sapat's rejection did not come as surprise.

On her way from fetching some water from the nearby fountain she briefly spied the horselord in the middle of some strength training, which she took for a hopeful sign. If he still had the motivation to keep up his strength, then it must mean he had not given up yet. He had assured her he would endure, but days passed and no change had come - either from his side, or Sapat's. Sooner or later one of them would snap and she did not dare to think what would happen then. Was there any way she could prevent it?

A thought came to her a bit later that same day, and so she made her way towards the tent of her brother. She couldn't tell if it was a good idea altogether, but at least it was an attempt.

She came to her brother's tent just as he had finished a counsel with some of his men, and when she entered he gave her one of those assessing looks she saw more often on his face these days, and its reason was not lost to her. He was very much aware of her dealings with the prisoner, and she wondered maybe he was just waiting for her to release the horselord. It had bothered her not to know why Sapat had not tried to prevent her from doing whatever small acts of kindness for the northman she could. Eventually she had demanded to know his reason for that, and she had not liked the answer. Sapat had smiled and told her that throwing a rope at a man and then pulling it back could be effective torment as well. That was such loathsome kind of thinking that she had yelled at him, which had turned into a full argument... until he had couple of his guards escort – or drag – her out of the tent.

"What is it?" asked her brother bluntly when they were alone.

"I was just wondering how much longer you're going to keep doing this. I mean your prisoner, of course", she replied, seeking his face as she tried to find at least something soft about those features. The years had changed him so much: the boy she remembered from before she had left the tribe to marry the chieftain of an ally tribe had given way to a stone-hard man.

"I keep doing whatever I want as long as it pleases me", he said coolly, shooting a glare at her. Fanara sighed.

"So it pleases you to watch him kill your men one by one? You have made your point already, Sapat. And you must have realised by now that you're not going to break him", she tried to reason with him. He scoffed at her words.

"Then what do you think should be done with the man?" he inquired; the tone of his voice revealed he asked this mostly out of idle curiosity rather than really wishing to follow through with her point of view.

"If you can't set him free, then... at least send him away from here. You could become a rich man, brother, if you took him to the slave markets of Umbar. A big handsome man with that uncommon golden hair would profit you very well – both male and female customers would be ready to pay anything for such a prize", Fanara said, carefully keeping her tone dispassionate and even. It wasn't that she approved of selling people like cattle, and she knew well what uses he would be put into if he was made slave, but maybe a journey to Umbar would give the horselord better chances of escaping... or at least sending a word to his people in north. Or maybe, if he could just hold back his temper and play along, act like an obedient slave, he could escape when his master or mistress wasn't looking.

But then, thinking of those ferocious dark eyes and the burning anger in them, she wondered if the horselord could even for a moment pretend to be a slave. Perhaps Sapat had already driven him beyond the point where all attempts to subdue him would only cause him to commit a mad and murderous spree, with the ultimate result of destroying himself along everything around him. And truth was, though she couldn't say she knew the man, one thing was clear: he was too proud to ever submit to the will of another.

Sapat's dry snort interrupted her thoughts. From his face she could already see her suggestion had not met a fertile ground in him. On the other hand, she had not truly expected that.

"No amount of gold would ever suffice in exchange for my prisoner, Fanara. And those slave masters and mistresses have disturbingly lacking security measures sometimes – it would be a child's play for him to break through and escape. And we don't want that, do we?" he said coolly and leaned over to pour himself a drink. She suppressed a frustrated sigh.

"Brother, if you let him go now perhaps something could be negotiated. Maybe in exchange for his freedom he'd agree not to take vengeance on you?" she tried, though that attempt was even weaker than her previous suggestion. Sapat shot a sharp glare at her.

"Really, I must wonder. You're so desperate to free this man and I do not understand where that comes from. Do you not remember what happened to Tanfuksham? You knew and loved him as well. Do you not remember your own husband, whom you sent to war?" Sapat demanded.

"I have not forgotten, Sapat. I will have to live with his absence for the rest of my life, and know that my grief will not be soothed. But at least I'm not under the delusion that tormenting some man from the north would somehow make it better", she said stonily.

"Then you're not worthy of the proud blood of our father, the great Chieftain Mir", Sapat said curtly. She raised her eyebrows at that.

"And you think you are? You think Father would approve of this?" she asked, her tone even sharper than she had meant. For once, he didn't respond – he just sat there, looking in silence at her. Fanara shook her head and deep sadness filled her heart as she met his gaze.

"He wouldn't be proud, Sapat", she said, now thoroughly regretful. "Our father would only feel shame if he saw what you have done."

Umbar

Master Opash insisted they dine with him that night, and considering he had treated the three travellers with complete politeness since Lothíriel had made the bargain with him, Aragorn suggested they humour the man. He didn't have to remind his companions they should keep close watch of what they spoke during the dinner, as their host really didn't need any more information to help him understand just who were the three travellers who had come to seek for his rather shady aid. For her part, Lothíriel reminded her friends they shouldn't pay so much attention to their eating habits, because sophisticated behaviour would be a sure way to give hints to lead Opash towards the right direction.

But as they joined their host in a spacious dining hall and he heartily welcomed them, she wondered if the concern was needed... or if this was just another way of getting information from people.

Half-way through the first course their host toasted his glass towards the guests.

"I hope you don't mind me talking business in the middle of eating? I fear it's a bad habit of mine", he said and took a sip of the fine white wine served with the food, which was rich and delicate; even Lothíriel, who had grown up in the court of Princes of Dol Amroth, had to admit she was impressed by the meal laid before them.

"I believe that is your right as our host, Master Opash", Aragorn replied gracefully. It was difficult to tell what he really made of Opash, and the princess had not yet had the chance of asking.

A faint smile visited the Umbarian's face and he leaned back in his chair.

"Now, during my time as the kind of businessman who seeks and sells information I've noticed that my customers are usually rather anxious to get it, and so you, my good guests, should be happy to learn that I have already cast my nets into the waters. In other words, my associates are presently out there looking for people who might have knowledge of this battle you spoke of", he explained in pleasant tones, and Lothíriel had to fight to keep her expression from showing the excitement she felt. Perhaps this time tomorrow they would already have the location of her betrothed!

Opash continued, "Though my nets are very dense, I would restate that all additional details should only help finishing this task faster, as my men would have a better idea of what to look for."

Éowyn lifted her eyebrows just slightly.

"I was under the impression you are the best at what you do, Master Opash", she remarked.

Opash's eyes narrowed at hearing that response. He regarded Éowyn quietly for a moment, but she met his gaze steadily; nothing moved on the face of this woman who had endured the rule of Wormtongue. If Opash was trying to measure her, Lothíriel wasn't certain even he could get through her guard. Come to think of it, the princess had a feeling Opash probably very much reminded her of the man who had kept Théoden King under his influence. Said man was long gone now, and word had come from the Shire that he had died, but the memory of him could not be pleasant. It explained Éowyn's silent loathing as well.

"Indeed I am the best", he said at length and took a sip of his wine, "but sadly, only one can claim to be so, and my associates sometimes need help."

"We are mainly interested in a battle that took place on the north road. That is what we need you to concentrate on, Master Opash", said Aragorn calmly.

"And you need to find out if someone might have survived that battle, so by helping me you're only helping yourselves", said their host. He sipped his wine and continued, "But as I said, I'm the best, and if there is any information to be found of it here in Umbar I shall know. However, I wonder... what makes you think some battle many leagues in north – and close to the border of Gondor – might have witnesses here?"

He was now watching Aragorn, but the King's face was just as inscrutable as Éowyn's had been.

"Many things find their ways to Umbar. The walls of this city hide many secrets, and everything in this place is on sale", Aragorn replied smoothly.

"That is very true", allowed Opash, tilting his head to a side. He looked like he'd have said more, but then Lothíriel spoke up.

"I don't think you're playing fair right now, Master Opash. If you wish to know more than you've been tasked with, then you have a bargain to make", she said, and her voice came out just as steady as those of her friends'. Her words earned a wide smile from their host.

"You learn quickly, young one", he said, leaning his elbows on the table. He narrowed his eyes again, "There's one bargain I would truly wish to make with you, Lady in Disguise."

"And what is that?" she asked carefully. The princess had already understood that though she might have taken him by surprise and in the process she had won his good will, he was still a dangerous man. And his favour could turn as quickly as it had been earned by her bold move.

The smile on Opash's face became even wider.

"If you'd become my head wife, I would make you the most powerful woman south of Gondor – practically a queen", he announced.

Lothíriel blinked and it was all she could do from gaping at the Umbarian. But she also reminded herself she could not let the words of this man get to her.

"Your offer does me honour, but unfortunately I have to decline it. I have already promised to marry someone", she said, keeping her voice even. Opash sighed regretfully and again sat back in his chair.

"He is a lucky man indeed", he murmured, but then offered her a charming smile, "Well, my offer still stands, if you ever happen to change your mind about him."

Somehow with great effort she was able to respond that smile.

"I shall keep that in mind."

Opash had insisted they enjoy his hospitality for the night – "I will not have my business partners sleep in a ship of all places, and you wouldn't believe what kind of rat holes the inns are in this city", he had said in a tone that suffered no arguments – and so the three travellers would remain under the Umbarian's roof until he could finish the task of finding information on Éomer.

Éowyn had suggested they use Rohirric in their private conversations, as one could never tell who might be listening to them in this house, and Aragorn and Lothíriel agreed that was perhaps for the best. After all, the three of them were likely to be the only speakers of Rohirric in the city. As for Opash, he could very well be helping them now, but after their business was finished there was no guarantee he wouldn't use the information he had found to his own benefit. The sooner they got on road and found Éomer the better, as they should be able to return home and Opash would become just one among some unpleasant memories. Once they reached the shores of Gondor in north, what Opash knew or thought he did could not harm them.

Before they retired for the night, Aragorn said he had sent word for Captain Cairon that they would be staying in Opash's house for the night. Their supplies and gear were still on board, but apparently The Pearl of Uinen would stay in the haven for several nights at least, as Cairon had business in the city. At this point, Lothíriel didn't even want to know what that business might be.

"How did he react to it when Opash unceremoniously announced that I'm not a man?" asked the princess; as she had been busy with their host, she hadn't been there to see Cairon's reaction.

"He took it well, I suppose. We didn't really have an opportunity to talk, but I suppose he made his own assumptions, and he's the kind of man who tends to understand this kind of thing... though perhaps it would not do bad to give him some explanation when we go get our gear. One shouldn't part with old friends in ill will. You never know when you might need a smuggler, after all", Aragorn replied.

"Planning on establishing smuggling business, my lord?" Éowyn asked good-humouredly, which made him chuckle.

"Why, do you have something for me to smuggle?" he asked back. That roused some more humorous remarks – all three of them appeared to be in the need of a slightly lighter mood – until eventually they agreed to go and get some rest.

Night on the streets of Umbar

The Umbarian wine was strong and it always took Ashpar by surprise, and after a couple of pitchers – or perhaps several – he stumbled out of the inn, the last of his laughter still bubbling on his lips. It was very late and he should get going, just to get some sleep before the morrow. He could dislike Gajalm and Krual and the whole lot of them, but they did keep him in gold, and anyway years had shown he wasn't that good in much except fighting. When he was sober, that was.

And that night Ashpar was anything but sober.

A vague thought of Nujola was there in his mind and he he started to make way to the pleasure house where she worked. On the way there he decided to take a short cut through some narrow alleys that would save him time, for he knew he was going to pass out soon. He decided he'd rather not do that here in the gutter, as he still had some northern gold in his possession, and the surest way of being robbed was sleeping on the streets.

But then, as he was crossing this one narrow corridor, a hand suddenly grabbed him from behind. Ashpar reached for his scimitar but the wine had slowed and dulled him down, and the weapon fell from his hand to the ground. He tried to grab it but now another shadowy figure appeared, kicking away the scimitar. Ashpar fell on his knees.

"W-what do you want? I've got gold, just l-let me go", he stuttered.

The man who had kicked away the scimitar leaned down to regard him. He looked like any other man of Umbar, and Ashpar had no memory of ever seeing him before. So it was just a common robbery, then.

"Where did you get that northern gold?" asked the stranger.

"I found it", Ashpar mumbled. He was feeling more dizzy by the second, but that fact was remedied by a hard slap on his face.

"The truth, if you please", came the growl.

"I took it from a dead man", he replied. Lies wouldn't obviously help him now, especially since his mind was so cluttered.

His attackers exchanged a glance.

"I think he might be the man Master was looking for", said the one who had grabbed Ashpar. Seeing the two were busy talking he tried to get up and flee, but there was a kick to the back of his knee. He'd have cried out but his mouth was covered by a cloth.

"You come with us. Master Opash has business with you... and you're going to tell him everything about that horse-gold."

Sapat's camp

The passage of time meant many things, but one more tangible result was the fact that Éomer soon became old news to the members of the tribe. The curious spectators from the beginning eventually decided it wasn't worth their while to stand by the cage watching him, not unless something happened, and even then they'd know getting close wasn't worth the risk. Mostly he was thankful for this, as being stared at did nothing for the feelings of humiliation and the helpless anger for being stripped of his dignity.

Still, while these things were true for the most parts, once in a while someone did actually forget the advantages of staying away. Presently the forgetful party consisted of three lads, not older than twelve summers old he evaluated. They appeared to think it very amusing to shoot him with what he recognised as some kind of seeds. But as the three were even faster than him and he couldn't grab at them, he had just sat back, closed his eyes, and pretended he knew nothing of their little game. Indifference would eventually make them lose their interest.

Idly Éomer recalled back in time. Where had he been at the age of twelve? His mind returned to Edoras and the training grounds of Meduseld, and the wide free plains of Harrowdale that surrounded the capital. The Sun did not burn so hotly there and winds brought relief even on the brightest days of summer, and in rich green grass there was such life as dead sand was utterly lacking. Horsemanship and skills of war had been his main interest – well, would have been, but Uncle had insisted he sat down every day with Éowyn and listened to Master Higerof, who at that time had been quite likely the most educated man in all of the Mark. Higerof had taught the two orphans many things from geography to history, politics, arithmetic, etiquette, even some basic Sindarin... he had been a young boy then and full of vengeful thoughts of war, so Éomer had not always understood why Théoden had insisted they learn all these things.

"You two are my sister-children and I owe it to your mother I see to your education", Uncle had said calmly, wearing this look on his face his sister-son had not quite understood. "Not only that, but you're of the House of Eorl. One day the fates of this land will be in your hands, and I will not have you greet that day ignorant like two troll-children."

When he had become the King, Éomer had been grateful for all those long afternoons spent with Master Higerof. But now, in this place, knowing the history of Gondor or the proper greeting in Sindarin had no use. The only thing they served was memory, and memories were turning out as one of two places he could escape the reality.

Reality... the thought of it brought him back and he noticed the boys had ceased shooting at him. Instead, they were entirely focused on a young girl who he knew to be Fanara's daughter. She had her mother's looks, though her eyes and her cheeks she had inherited from someone else.

As the boys were using their own native tongue, Éomer could not tell what was being said, but the girl's expression told him enough. After they had first come to stay in Edoras, he had couple of times seen something similar on his sister's face: it had not been easy for Éowyn to find her place in the capital, and other children had only made it more difficult for her. In the end, he never had to interfere, though he would gladly done so if she had asked him. Éowyn had taken care of the matter herself, and after few bloodied noses there was no more questions about her place in Meduseld.

But this girl didn't possess Éowyn's spirit and he saw some help might be needed. So he moved sudden and fast, growling as he bared his teeth, and then he grabbed one of the boys by the back of his neck. He didn't kill children, so he let the boy go when he started to scream, and all three ran like he could actually get to them through the bars.

Fanara's daughter had fallen on the ground. She was watching him with wide eyes, clutching a bundle to her chest. He couldn't bring himself to smile, but he settled back and gave her what he hoped was a less menacing look.

"Are you all right?" he even asked. It felt odd to be saying something like that, as it was a memory of a world where men had honour and cages were for wild animals. The girl didn't seem to be able to speak; she just nodded and climbed back up on her feet. She shook sand from her clothes and then took again her bundle.

"I brought you food. Mother said -" she started, but what Fanara had said was never revealed, for Sapat had arrived to the scene, and his hand went to catch the bundle from the girl's hands.

"Tell your mother the prisoner will not receive food or drink without my leave. Do you understand?" he asked the girl, whose eyes had again gone wide with fear.

"I do, uncle", she barely whimpered and dashed away, obviously very anxious to get away from her uncle.

Strangely enough, Éomer felt no anger. He turned his eyes towards the chieftain and stared hard at the villain. How could a man so hateful have such compassionate kinswomen? Briefly he even entertained himself imagining what Théoden would have done and said, had he been alive and here; Uncle would have given this chieftain a lesson on how one treated one's family.

Sapat looked like he was searching for some cutting remark, but apparently his verbal reserve had failed him as in the end he never said anything. Instead he turned and left, tossing away the bundle of food. Éomer didn't know for sure of course, but perhaps the chieftain's silence had something to do with his prisoner's silent, unblinking stare.

The house of Opash in Umbar

Both Lothíriel and Éowyn would have loved to go out and take a look at the city, but Aragorn thought it was not a good idea.

"It's easy to get lost out there, and the streets of Umbar are not the safest. And presently we are in the part of the city that is even less so, especially for strangers like ourselves. After the campaign against the pirates they don't have any reason to love anyone who looks like northerner", he explained to the two women.

"But we were fine when Captain Cairon brought us here", Lothíriel pointed out.

"That is true, but it was different with him escorting us. You could say we were under his protection. Men like Cairon aren't really Gondorians – in fact they are not attached to any land the way one might imagine it. He's a seafarer, which is what matters in a place like this", Aragorn said. Seeing he was probably right, his companions gave up their idea. So they were left waiting... but not for long.

Around midday, a servant came to a parlour which was the part of chambers given to the three travellers, and announced that Master Opash wished to see them. Apparently he already had some news for them.

"I had no idea he was this good", Lothíriel whispered to Éowyn.

"Men like him always are", she muttered back. There was a frown on the older woman's face, but Lothíriel had no chance to wonder about it, as they arrived then to what looked like a study. Opash was waiting for them there and was presently gazing out, his back turned towards the door. Two body guards, quiet and huge as they always were, towered behind a desk made of light wood that didn't look like it saw much use; Lothíriel suspected this was merely a scene for the man's dealings, and he made his business somewhere else.

When the three travellers entered, Opash turned around and smiled in a warm, friendly manner.

"There you are, my friends! I trust everything is to your liking, and you have all that you need?" he inquired. Whatever this man's faults were, being inhospitable to his guests wasn't certainly one of them.

"We are quite fine, Master Opash. We thank you for your hospitality", Aragorn said smoothly.

"I am glad to hear that, as I would hate to hear a guest under my roof was left wanting", said the Umbarian. He glanced at Lothíriel, "I suppose you're not here to tell me you've decided to reconsider my offer, Lady?"

She managed a weak smile for him.

"Sadly, I only came to hear what news you have for us", she replied. Opash sighed heavily and somewhat theatrically.

"Forgive me. I simply had to make sure", he said, considering her for one moment more. Then he cleared his throat and began to speak, "Now, two of my associates came across what you were seeking late last night, for they had received a word of someone flaunting Rohirric gold. So they set out to question him and true enough they found him in the possession of pieces of a broken brooch, depicting a horse in the manner of northmen. He also confessed to having participated the battle you were asking about. They brought this man into one of my locations and as it was so late already, I decided not to bother you with it... instead, I took the liberty of interrogating him myself."

Lothíriel nearly leaped ahead when she heard that.

"I believe our deal was you find this man and bring him to us", she stated sharply.

"I beg your pardon, Lady, but that is not how I work. I deliver the information based on what details my customers provide upon purchasing my services", Opash said. His voice was calm and even gentle. Lothíriel would have snapped something angry, but Éowyn stepped on her foot and Aragorn took lead instead.

"And what did you find out?" he asked, his voice betraying nothing of his thoughts.

Opash let out a sigh that was probably supposed to be regretful.

"We had to be a bit rough with the fellow in question, as he was very drunk and he had difficulty remembering anything. Be it as may, he eventually confirmed he had indeed taken part in a battle on the northern road called called Stone Pass. However, he said the attack was not made in the name of his chieftain – instead, they were working with another tribe, as the chieftains had agreed they could not attack the horselords alone. Also, he said one captive was taken from that battle-field", Opash began the explanation.

"And did this man say if he knew who the captive was?" Éowyn asked.

"No. He insisted he knew nothing of the plan, and that his chieftain had not given any details on who they were attacking and what was the ultimate reason behind it", he replied. He went on, "They left behind some bodies dressed in the kind of clothing pirates use, and then made for the road. Our informant then said the men of his tribe left the next morning, and what may have happened to that captured horselord after that, he couldn't say."

"Did he say which tribe holds the man in question?" asked Aragorn. His voice was completely calm, and even spying a look of his face revealed nothing but vague interest.

"The tribe of Chieftain Sapat, apparently", Opash replied and turned to pour himself a drink. "I have heard of him but I have never met him. A ruthless man, I understand, but accounted a very competent warrior when he was young. I once bought this lion cub from a man who had acquired the animal from him... fierce little beast, but not fit for living among people..."

Lothíriel wasn't listening to the rest of Opash's reflections on this Chieftain Sapat. Instead she was watching Aragorn very closely, and it was enough to catch the slightest widening of his eyes. Her heart skipped a beat, though she couldn't tell if this signalled a good or a bad thing.

"Is there anything more you can tell of this chieftain and his tribe?" Aragorn inquired carefully.

"No, not really. As far as I gather, they're no more special than any other tribe out there", Opash said indifferently, tasting his drink. Quietly, Lothíriel wondered if the matter was starting to lose what interest he may have had in it. He continued, "I understand their former chieftain, a fellow called Mir, was considered a rather influential man – many travelled far for his counsel, and it is said he could sway men's hearts with but a few words. But he has been gone for a long time, and his children are not quite as great."

"Thank you, Master Opash", Aragorn said and made a polite bow at the Umbarian. "You truly are the best, and we shall tell so to all who need information."

He was about to move, but Lothíriel stepped in at that point.

"Wait", she spoke up, staring hard at Opash. "What happened to the man who told you these things?"

He shrugged nonchalantly.

"We had a bit of an accident with him. As I said, we had to be rough with him in order to get the information you wanted, and my lads can be a bit too enthusiastic sometimes... poor devil died, I am afraid", Opash said and made the expression of pretended sadness.

"You mean you tortured him to death?" Lothíriel demanded, her voice growing loud and harsh.

"If you insist on using such crude words..." he replied and gave her a not at all charming smile. She answered it with a freezing glare.

"Master Opash, I do not think we made any deals about you torturing and killing people", she hissed, holding back her fury just barely. He did not seem affected, though.

"Again I remind you we only made a deal that I deliver you information, Lady. The process of gathering this information was not discussed", he said patiently, as if talking to a child - though he did position himself between his body guards. "If you come to me and ask for my help, you're going to have to bear the consequences."

"I swear I'm going to -" Lothíriel started, but then Éowyn took a firm hold of her arm.

"Enough, Tangiel", she said firmly. Aragorn took a hold of her other arm as well and nodded at Master Opash.

"Forgive my daughter. She has bit of a temper", he said smoothly. "We thank you for your help. With your leave we shall be off as soon as we have gathered our belongings."

"It is always pleasure to do business. If you ever need my services again, you know where to find me..." Opash said and smiled at the princess, "And if you happen to change your mind, Lady Tangiel or whatever is your real name, I shall be waiting. Together we should even be able to smooth those rough edges of yours..."

It was all she could do from telling him some things would indeed be smoothed, though none of them would be her "rough edges", but her friends were already escorting her out. She was left to fuming herself as her friends walked her out of the room and towards the chambers they had been given. A chaotic mixture of disgust, anger and horror were twisting inside her, and by the time they had got to their chamber Aragorn surrendered her to Éowyn's care, as he had rightly guessed the White Lady likely had the best chances of calming her down. When the older woman had sat her down, she asked: "Are you all right?"

"Am I all right? We were just told that our gracious host apparently tortured a man to death in order to get us information! No, I'm not all right!" she exclaimed and tried to jump up, but Éowyn pushed her back down.

"I know. I didn't expect this either", she said softly, only momentarily revealing that she too had received the news with shock. "But this is the world we chose to enter when we decided to go and seek for my brother. The people we will have to deal with... they would slaughter nineteen men to just get to one and take him captive."

"So we should become like them? We should be monsters who torment others to get what we want?" asked the princess angrily. At least she still possessed the sense to answer in Rohirric – no doubt Opash would have loved to listen to this conversation.

"You don't have to yell at me", Éowyn sighed. "I know it's wrong, and I know it's horrible. But there is nothing we can do."

"Oh, I can go and strangle Opash! I can make sure that man didn't die for nothing!" snarled the younger woman. Again she tried to rise up, but Éowyn pushed her down once more.

"Sister", Éowyn said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder, careful not to speak any names. "That man did take part in the attack against my brother and his riders."

"But you heard what Opash said – this man didn't even know what was really happening! He was just doing what his chieftain told him to do!" she argued heatedly.

"Perhaps that was what his chieftain did order him, but in the end we're all responsible for what we do. And answer me honestly: would you agree to attack a group of men and fight them without even knowing who your opponent was? Even though they had never wronged you?" Éowyn pointed out calmly. "If he had Rohirric gold on him, then it can only mean one thing. He must have raided bodies on that battlefield and was using those Riders' personal possessions as currency to buy Béma knows what. Does that sound like a good man to you?"

Lothíriel frowned and tried to look for words, but Éowyn continued speaking before she could come up with anything.

"I know it is unbearable, understanding what has happened because we chose to trust in this Opash. But we can't go on some vengeful spree here – we would be killed before we knew it, and we are my brother's only chance of being found and freed from captivity. We need to think of him now and we have to get out of this city", she said, her eyes shining with some desperate light Lothíriel couldn't really name. But then that light turned cold and she spoke in a hard voice.

"And now I think Thorongil knows his work on this coast is not finished yet. Men like Opash... they will have what is coming for them. But not now. Not before we have saved my brother and brought him home."

That wasn't much of a consolation, not now at least. But Lothíriel did recognise the reason in Éowyn's words – her friend was right in saying they couldn't risk their lives when Éomer needed them to find him. So the princess sighed and bowed her head, feeling more discouraged than she ever had during this journey. All of a sudden her fury was gone, which did not go unnoticed by Éowyn. The older woman gently squeezed her shoulder.

"I'm starting to think maybe I'm not so prepared as I thought I was. I didn't know what I would have to do to find him... or what I would have to become", she murmured in a quiet voice. Opash had been more right than he had even realised: perhaps tearing herself apart was the price she had to pay in order to get back the man she loved.

"That is why I gave up waging war. It makes people ruthless", Éowyn said, wrapping an arm about Lothíriel's shoulder.

"There is no turning back now, is there? And for the man I love I can be ruthless and terrible and endure anything", she muttered and looked up.

On the face of her friend there was something sad.

"Let us hope you can also stop being those things when we find him. For once we find and release him, terrible and ruthless are the last things he will need."

Less than half an hour later they were on the move. It felt good to be out and on way again, even if that was just to get their gear from the ship of Captain Cairon. Opash had tried to invite them to share lunch with him before their departure, but Aragorn had graciously rejected the offer, and the three had left wasting no time.

"I can't believe Captain Cairon knows such disgusting people. I thought he was nicer than that", Lothíriel muttered when they were out. She was more than happy to be leaving behind Opash's house, and hoped she'd never have to see him again.

"Cairon is a smuggler", Aragorn said and shrugged. "One does not live in such a world without knowing a few disgusting people. There is no black and white in his mind – only different nuances of grey."

He glanced at his two companions, "Let us make haste. I do not know how you feel, but I at least would leave behind this city as soon as possible."

Both women heartily agreed.

They got to the port soon enough, and found Captain Cairon on his ship. His men were doing some repairs, which task he was presently overseeing. As he had back in Pelargir, Aragorn called for his attention from the pier and requested a permission to step on board (that was obviously an important thing among seafarers), and Cairon gestured them to enter. At the sight of Lothíriel something of a crooked smile came to his face and he rested hands on his hips.

"Well then! You're handful, lass. Or Tangion, was it?" he remarked, regarding her from head to toe – she guessed he was watching her in an entirely new light, and was trying to see why he had let the disguise fool him.

She offered him an awkward smile.

"I'm very sorry for that little lie", she said apologetically when suddenly inspiration hit her. "Perhaps good captain remembers that unpleasant substance my Father here mentioned when we first met in Pelargir? It happens that substance is actually some relatives of my mother, and they have it in their heads a young woman should not become a sellsword."

"Indeed. They don't seem to understand things like passing down the family traditions", Aragorn added helpfully.

This was apparently enough for Captain Cairon. He smiled knowingly and nodded.

"Oh, I understand very well. It seems to me that all relatives suffer from this condition which makes them think they have the right to meddle with affairs that clearly are not their business", he agreed and gave her a lopsided grin. "Worry not, young one. Your secret is safe with me... but I really hope those relatives might come around soon. Lovely young ladies shouldn't hide themselves in such a way."

"Let us indeed hope so", she said weakly. Aragorn gracefully interrupted the conversation and suggested the women go and get their things while he exchanged few words with the captain.

Less than half an hour later, the three were back on the pier. They had their supplies and weapons, and Lothíriel felt reassured now that she again had her Elven bow with her. It always made her feel so much stronger.

"Now what?" Éowyn asked their guide. He stepped closer to the women so that what he said would go unnoticed by the ears of others.

"Now we shall find ourselves a means of transport. And then we will head north. Once we get there, we are going to see an old friend of mine."

"A friend of yours?" Éowyn inquired, narrowing her eyes. "Who would that be?"

A large smile came to Aragorn's face, and even before he spoke a feeling of hope grew in Lothíriel's heart.

"Her name is Fanara."

Sapat's camp

That night Éomer dreamed of Lothíriel.

Well, he often did dream of her. In sleep he'd recall a thousand little things about her: the sparkling of her eyes, the way sunlight would play and dance in the folds of her hair, the dimples on her cheeks when she grinned, the way she'd call his name when she was building up for her release, the contradiction between her tottering on the dance floor and the grace of her movements when she rode or ran or fought... He'd remember the times they had spent together, and the things he had dreamed of sharing with her. Sometimes he'd even have these dreams where he was in Rohan, and she was there with him, and she was his Queen...

Somehow, he never had nightmares now, even if the waking hours would certainly have provided him with enough of material to conjure most horrendous of dreams. Perhaps that was just the reason: his life already was a nightmare, and dreams had become a refuge instead of a place of more torture.

In any case, that night he dreamed of Lothíriel and somehow it was more vivid and felt more real than even reality. And in the dream, it seemed to him, she knew what had really happened. No, she didn't think him dead like Sapat had intended. Lothíriel knew he was alive and she was looking for him.

She was looking for him. It even felt like she was speaking to him and telling him to stay strong until she could come.

Yes. I will endure, for you. For you... for you...

He dreamed of the touch of her hand on his cheek, though sometimes it was hard to remember how a tender touch like that could feel like. Yet he dreamed of it and believed, if for one blissful moment, that she was coming for him... that there was some way she could change this.

But all dreams have to end, and so did this one, and with a poke of the end of a spear he was awakened into yet another day of torment.

I will endure for you. But please, come quick.

A/N: And I return with an update! Hope you all liked this chapter.

Here we see our travellers making some progress: they now know where to look for Éomer and it so happens that Aragorn knows Fanara. This is what I attempted to foreshadow when I wrote he has spent time among a Haradrim tribe. Before you call BS and point out it's Fanara who should be in the position of leadership, I would restate it's a bit more complicated than that. Fanara married a chieftain of another tribe, leaving Sapat the sole heir of their father. She only returned to her own native tribe when her husband was gone. But Aragorn obviously doesn't know that Fanara has little to no power over her brother. We'll see how this turns out...

This chapter should show it was not for an idle reason that I mentioned Shaugit encountering some of Krual's men on way to Umbar. Obviously I needed some people in Umbar who had seen the battle where Éomer was taken captive, and that's where Ashpar comes into picture.

I don't think our three companions on quest really understood what kind of a man they were getting involved with when they sought Opash's help. Éowyn and Aragorn's reactions may seem mild, but remember those are in comparison to Lothíriel's more hot-tempered approach, and anyway they're more experienced and better at hiding their emotions. I don't think they took well the news Opash had tortured someone to get information. Aragorn at least should be already thinking what he should and what he can do about that. But as Éowyn points out, they have to keep straight their priorities right now, and vengeful spree consisting of just three people is not the best idea in a city like Umbar.

As to the dream Éomer has in the end of the chapter, I wouldn't say it's some meaningful dream or a premonition that Lothíriel is looking for him. It's more just his subconscious offering him some solace. It's a hopeful thing to imagine that she is actually out there looking for him - that she'd somehow know he's not dead and would come for him. Or on the other hand you could interpret it as a sign they're so in tune with each other that on some level he understands what she would do, and so he dreams of her coming for him. Well, perhaps I will allow you, my dear readers, take that as you will!

Quote in the beginning originally by Pablo Neruda

Rosmary – I've already explained in length why Aragorn would choose this path and if that doesn't satisfy you, then I'm not sure what more to tell you. Not to mention I'm starting to wonder where this is coming from, considering I'm not writing them running head-first into some battle, but rather as trying to think through what they're doing and where they're going. Selfish and irresponsible it would be if they just merrily dashed away because wishing some adventure, but this is not about themselves or seeking excitement for the sake of it. This is about them doing what what they think is the only way of finding someone on whose safe return Rohan's future depends.

Aragorn and Éowyn are not some fragile children going of an adventure on a whim. And I find it odd that so many people seem to forget what kind of badass things these people are actually capable of, as if two years of peace has somehow robbed them of their skills and experience.

Talia119 - Yep, she was definitely between a rock and a hard place there, but Opash does have his own sense of honour and propriety - but as I said, he's not a good man. I'm glad you liked that part with Imrahil and Arwen. It was pleasant to write as well, and I thought another point of view, namely Imrahil's, was necessary to give some insight to Lothíriel's character.

I'm not sure running away with a hostage would have turned out too well for Éomer. As Fanara pointed out, he'd have very little chance of surviving out there. For one, without supplies he'd not get far, and he'd have to drag along a hostage, and Sapat would come after them with vengeance.

Oh, that's too bad. It's really a pity when authors take down their stories, especially the good ones...

MairaElleth - Imrahil was fun to write as well - I'd add more of him but I'm not sure what more I should say about him for now.

I really like Fanara as well. It was very clear to me that there should be someone who doesn't only disapprove of Sapat's schemes, but also isn't afraid to say that. Hopefully she can help Éomer endure this dark time, but we'll see how that goes.

And yes, Opash certainly is a fairly disgusting man, but complex as well.

wondereye - This is of course just one interpretation of the Haradrim and Umbarian cultures. I'm hoping it's exciting to read and I've done my best to make it rich, but feedback is always welcome!

I fear Éothain will have to wait for now...

UntilNeverDawns - I think she also had a fair amount of luck as well...