The path I walk lights up in flames. - Skalkisham of Umbar

Chapter 21

Sapat's camp

"Father! I swear, if I have to sit watching that man for one moment more, I may just lose my mind", announced Shaugit as the young man sauntered into his father's tent. Sapat looked up from the message he had carefully been composing, and put it aside before he could spoil the precious vellum with ink. He wasn't a good writer and the skill was something he had only learned during his later years, and that was mostly because he didn't trust anyone to put down exactly what he had in mind.

"It's a part of your training and duties as the chieftain's heir", he reminded now his son. "As my father before me insisted I take part in all the labours of the camp, so will you learn everything from guard-duty to the higher arts of war."

Shaugit scoffed and lazily collapsed on some pillows.

"What more can I learn from sitting about watching a man in a cage?" he whined and picked some dried dates from a bowl nearby.

"Patience, to name just one thing", Sapat said pointedly and shot a sharp look at his son. "And without patience, you're never going to be a chieftain."

His son groaned and tossed a date in the air, and caught with his mouth.

"If you're going to kill him, you should just do it already, Father", Shaugit mumbled, words coming out rather cluttered as he chewed the piece of dried fruit. "I don't like the way he stares at me. He looks like he's plotting some horrible way of killing me."

"He's not going to kill anyone while he stays in that cage and the guards take the necessary precautions, unlike that idiot Lam did", Sapat said calmly. "And I'm presently planning something that should take care of his ability to harm people for good."

That sparked the young man's curiosity and he lifted up his head.

"And what is that?" Shaugit asked. The chieftain smiled now, but he knew the expression on his face wasn't a particularly nice one.

"You remember Dhaub?" he asked back. The mention of the name made his son shudder, though the lad didn't seem surprised to hear it.

"How could one forget that old orc of a man? I'm just surprised you didn't go to him in the first place", Shaugit commented, sitting up on the pillows.

"Perhaps I should have from the beginning trusted his arts", Sapat said darkly.

"So you're going to invite him here? Delightful", his son said, cringing at the idea. "You know people are not going to like it. They fear and hate him more than anything else that walks in this corner of the world. They say Dhaub doesn't have a soul."

"I don't need him to have a soul. I just need him to break the unbreakable. And if there is such a man among the living, Dhaub the Man-eater is the one who can do it", the chieftain muttered; for some reason, Shaugit cowered under the gaze of his eyes. The young man turned his face away, and when he spoke his voice was faint.

"Aunt is going to throw a fit when she hears", he said, shaking his head. "Still, it's a pity... you don't think you could have Dhaub spare some of the horselord and not ruin him completely?"

But Sapat glared at his son as an answer, and Shaugit understood, for at this point nothing less than complete ruin was acceptable.

On way from Umbar to north

As they travelled northwards, talking was really the only thing to entertain themselves with. For the moment they could not really plan much further anyway, as they had yet to reach Chieftain Sapat's tribe, and Aragorn was still certain they could see through this thing peacefully. In fact, he was insisting they do so.

"It may be the only way we can get him free. I know you both are angry for what has happened, and Éomer will most likely be more than furious but if we run into battle head-first we are only going to get ourselves killed. Chieftain Sapat will not be inclined to listen to us if we barge into his camp weapons in our hands and seeking a fight. You must let me handle everything once we get to his tribe", he told his companions. As they were his friends he did not use his authority as a king, and Lothíriel knew it was not in Aragorn's nature to command those who were close to him.

"It still stands, what I said before. Éomer is not going to just let this go", Éowyn said ominously, but she didn't argue with Aragorn. He frowned.

"And that is where I need you. Perhaps the two of you could reach to him... calm him down, if he shows signs of losing control. We need to get out of this alive, if we wish this journey to count for anything. Vengeance will avail nothing, even if we had the numbers to get it", he said carefully, searching the faces of the two women.

"I believe I can speak for Lothíriel as well when I say that I haven't travelled this far just to get killed. If it comes to battle, we will manage. Don't worry, Aragorn. We can take care of ourselves", said the White Lady, her voice calm and firm. That effectively ended the conversation, and for a while they made way in silence. But Lothíriel could tell this continued to trouble their guide, and especially he feared they would only free Éomer to die side by side with him. However, she knew her beloved: he would rather die a free man than wither in captivity.

Afternoon was growing older when Éowyn rode her dromedary next to the princess. Aragorn went before them, leading the company in the front. After a while, the older woman glanced at the princess; in her grey eyes there was an expression Lothíriel couldn't really decipher.

"What is it, sister?" she asked, wondering what was on her friend's mind.

"I was just thinking it's a good thing you're going to be there when we free my brother. Friendly faces should be a welcome thing after what has happened to him... and he would hate it if those to release him were people he hardly knows", she said at last. Her tone was soft enough to maintain some privacy.

"You think he's not going to be all right?" Lothíriel asked carefully.

"I don't know. But I'm glad he has you. I think he will need you", Éowyn replied. A hint of doubt touched her voice and she looked ahead. "There is great comfort in just knowing someone cares about you so much as you and him do. It's a pity you two didn't have time to get married before all this... then again, my brother and you are as good as married already, aren't you?"

The princess sharply looked at her friend, and the expression on Éowyn's face was confirmation enough. A blush crept to the younger woman's cheeks and she coughed awkwardly.

"I didn't realise we were that obvious, or that anyone knew", she mumbled with some embarrassment. There was no point in trying to deny it, and she knew she couldn't fool Éowyn even if she had wanted to. A faint smile appeared on the White Lady's features.

"Oh, I've known quite a while. It didn't come as a surprise to me, not after seeing how you obsessed about each other. My brother was never too subtle about the way he looked at you... and then I saw you in the stables of Dol Amroth. It wasn't difficult to make assumptions based on that", she said serenely. "There's nothing to be worried about, Lothíriel. I don't think anyone else knows – except maybe for Aragorn, but you know how he is."

"Why didn't you ever say anything? Wouldn't it be your job to... hmm, tell us to unwind, or something?" Lothíriel asked. She was certain her cheeks were flaming red by now. But her friend only shook her head.

"Of course not. Personally I think it is very understandable, considering you had a betrothal time of an entire year. Believe me, I understand – I had to wait for Faramir and I know how frustrating it can get. But I'm an Eorling as well and among the Rohirrim it would be deemed rather extraordinary if lovers promised to each other could actually wait such a long time", Éowyn said unaffectedly. She gave her friend a crooked smile, "Truth is, knowing how my brother always does things in his own way, in the stables I only saw what I knew to expect anyway. And I always knew he'd make you his wife."

"May I ask why were you certain?"

"I know him, Lothíriel - I watched him grow from a boy to man, saw how he closed his heart to all but his kin. But then you came along, charging through every wall he has built over the years, and there was nothing he could do... you are his match, and I think he knew that almost as soon as he first saw you", Éowyn said with a fond smile. But then something dark and disturbed came to her face and her voice was little more than a whisper, "Let us hope we can find that man alive."

Lothíriel didn't really like the implications of that sentence. Inside her swelled a tight, choking feeling, but stubbornly she fought against it and reminded herself of what she had resolved. She had to be unbreakable, no matter what waited ahead.

Around sunset they made camp as on the previous nights, and after a supper consisting of goods bought from Umbar they settled for rest. Already used to these conditions, Lothíriel quickly drifted off to sleep as Éowyn kept watch.

It felt like she had only just closed her eyes when her friend's voice awakened her.

"Wake up!" Éowyn hissed, shaking at the younger woman's shoulder anxiously. When the princess tried to leap up, her friend placed an unyielding hand on her shoulder, and another on her mouth. Realising she had to stay quiet Lothíriel froze where she lay and tried to blink her sleepy eyes clear.

"Take your bow", said the White Lady in hushed tones, "and follow us."

When Lothíriel climbed on her feet she saw Aragorn already on his feet, kicking down the last of the glowing coals of their small camp-fire. Both her friends looked very serious and also tense, which she recognised as that focused point before the kill – they were ready for battle. Fire spread through her own veins as well, preparing her for the fight.

Éowyn gestured the two to follow her. She lead them to the hill on the right side of the camp, and there she crouched and began to crawl upwards. Aragorn and Lothíriel followed this example, making way uphill as quietly as they could. There, on the top of it, they peered ahead.

It was dark but the two travellers, riding small and fast horses, held torches which gave enough light for the three to see their faces. Lothíriel couldn't tell for sure whether they were tribesmen or Umbarians, but at least tribesmen, those they had passed by on the road, usually wore lighter garb than what these men were dressed in.

They were talking, but it was in their own language, and she didn't understand a word of it. However, a quick glance to her right confirmed that Aragorn was listening attentively. While he listened the two women held their breath and tried not to move - they did not want him to miss the slightest word. He gave no sign to attack and they remained quiet, and soon the two riders had passed.

The three fell back to their camp, still making effort to make no unnecessary noise. After all, there was no guarantee the two strangers they had seen were the only ones sneaking about in the night, and there was every reason to feel extreme prejudice towards such behaviour.

"What did they say? Did you hear anything?" Éowyn asked in hushed tones after explaining the princess she had heard the cantering horses from afar, which was no strange thing for an Eorling, and so she had immediately woken up her companions.

"You were right to suspect them, my friend", Aragon said solemnly. "I gathered from their speech they are looking from three outlander travellers. They're just scouts, though, so they're not supposed to show themselves. It appears there are more behind them, about half a day's journey from us."

Lothíriel frowned at this news.

"Why are they looking for us?" she wanted to know. A grimace appeared on Aragorn's face.

"I don't know for certain, though I heard the name of Opash mentioned. One of those two spies we saw seemed to be especially interested in a young dark-haired woman", he replied. She narrowed her eyes at this information.

"So they're here because of me? Opash has decided to hunt me like I was some wild animal?" she asked angrily. "I knew I should have strangled him while I still had the chance."

"I'm starting to think the same", Éowyn muttered in dark tones.

"He's out of our reach now, so we will have to make do", Aragorn said. He glanced at his companions, "I suggest we return to the road right away. I would like to put some distance between ourselves and the men looking for us."

Seeing the concerned looks on the faces of her friends he offered them a smile, "Don't be troubled. The deserts of Harad are wide and great, and we don't have to travel the road to get where we are going. Moreover, those men looked like ordinary Umbarian thugs – I would not expect them to be very effective hunters out of the city."

That consoled Lothíriel somewhat, and Éowyn too looked slightly more calm. But they packed up their camp nevertheless and hid all signs of their stay as well as they could, and mounted their dromedaries. Night was chilly and dark but the skies were clear, and with the stars as their guide they made for the road again.

They rested only very briefly before the sunrise, but as they made again for the road Lothíriel felt like she had not slept at all last night. Her eyelids indeed felt very heavy as they continued the journey, and only with great effort was she able to remain awake. Éowyn had shadows under her eyes as well, but judging by Aragorn's expression he was unbothered by the lack of sleep.

He insisted they make haste, as there was no telling what kind of force was riding after them and if they could hope to win a battle against their pursuers. Still, even in the middle of this new worrisome development he had time to see the troubled expression on the face of the youngest member of the company, and console her as well.

"Lothíriel, if you're blaming yourself for these men coming after us, then believe me when I say it is not your fault", he told her as their dromedaries trotted forward.

"Well, if they really have come after us because of me, then I am guilty", she said, frowning as she spoke. "I keep thinking what did it. I should have been more quiet and mild back there, shouldn't I? Now I've made that scoundrel obsessed!"

Aragorn's voice was firm when he replied, and his eyes were sharp.

"Opash himself bears the blame for his obsessions. You had no idea he'd come up with such a thing, and only by your boldness were we able to make a deal to get information on Éomer. If someone should be blamed it is myself for ever bringing you and Éowyn under the roof of a man who so lacks honour", he told her and she grunted as a vague agreement, though his words didn't completely take away her uneasy mood.

To herself she thought none of them had really fathomed what roads they would travel during this quest. Another unexpected path happened on them as midday began to grow into afternoon. For they rode up a hill and from there they saw a caravan making way north-east, less than half a league away, and at the sight of it a strange expression fell on Aragorn's features.

"What is it?" Éowyn asked, having seen that look and recognised it signified something important.

"Can it really be?" he muttered half-audibly. "Could it happen these men have once again crossed my way when I least expect it?"

"What do you mean?" Lothíriel asked, feeling increasingly worried and confused.

He flashed a smile to his two friends.

"It could very well be we have found a way to avoid our pursuers. I can't say for sure as I can't see their faces, but it looks like we may have again come across a few men I know", he said, his shoulders relaxing.

"And just who are they? Yet another bunch of smugglers?" Éowyn asked doubtfully. Apparently she did not remember the voyage very fondly. Her question made the King of Gondor and Arnor smile.

"Hopefully not, though I'm sure they have committed their share of some rather shady acts", he replied and shook himself. "We will have to get closer to make sure, but I think I recognise this caravan. If I'm right, they are the very same men who saved Captain Éothain from the battle-field."

Lothíriel blinked at that.

"How is that possible?" she wanted to know.

"They were making for Umbar when I met them near the Crossing of Harnen, where they had a camp. I suppose it has taken all this time for them to get to Umbar, get their business done, and depart for a journey home", Aragorn replied. "Now, Masters Lundar and Hashat appeared to be men one can trust. After all, they had no obligation to save Éothain or to build a tomb for Éomer's riders, but they did so anyway and in all things sought to give us aid. They should perhaps be able to help us even now."

"Help us fight our pursuers, you mean?" Éowyn asked with a frown, but the princess was grinning; she already felt she knew what her liege-lord was planning. And true enough he did allow a slight smile.

"No. I had something entirely different in my mind", he said and straightened the sand silk robes he was wearing. "It would now be a good time for you two to put on your veils, dear wives."

As Master Lundar had expected, the trip to Umbar had not been quite as prolific as he had hoped: the campaign of the northmen had left some of their trading contacts with but a memory of their fortunes. Lundar and Hashat had made the best of it and traded what they could, but eventually the two had agreed it was perhaps time to turn around and return home. To himself, Lundar was wondering whether new contacts in north could be established, and mourned the fact that the closest city one could seriously consider as worth the effort was Pelargir, and travelling there was wiser by the sea than by land - the leagues of South Gondor were largely unsafe due to border disputes that had flamed into open war between Gondor and Harad more than just once. The march of Gondorian and Rohirrim troops might have left it slightly safer, as robbers tended to run from such companies, but Lundar was not so entirely dedicated to his trade that he would put his life in line.

Around afternoon they made a brief stop at a waterhole there was by the side of the road. As it was mostly to just rest the pack animals and fill the water stores, no one had time for sitting by idly. Consequently, the members of the caravan were so busy that the three travellers were only noticed when they were at a shouting distance.

One of Hashat's guards came striding to the two leaders of the caravan, disrupting them from their plans of where to make their night camp.

"Master Hashat, there are strangers asking to speak with you and Master Lundar", said the guard. "One of them says he knows you."

Lundar raised eyebrows at that.

"Knows us? How is that?" he inquired.

"I'm not certain, as they are obviously of the north. Shall I tell them to leave?" asked the guard.

"No, let them come. I would like to see what manner of northerners claim to know us", Hashat replied. The guard bowed and turned. It was not long that the travellers approached the two merchants. First came a tall man wearing a sand silk robe common for those on road in these parts with a thin cloth around the lower part of his face, and with him were two women dressed in the manner of Umbarian women. Lundar did not recognise any of them, not until the man spoke.

"Masters Lundar and Hashat. Well met again", he said, and the sound of his voice nearly had Lundar jumping in surprise.

True, he did wear the garb of desert-traveller, but the face and eyes were the same: there before them stood none else than King Elessar of Gondor and Arnor.

"My lord!" Lundar gasped in amazement, "I did not know -"

Elessar lifted a hand before he could continue that sentence.

"Please, do not announce it quite so loudly. We are trying to blend in", said the northern king in a hushed voice. That he'd say we instantly roused Lundar's curiosity and he glanced at the two women. Their faces were veiled as well and it was unlikely he'd have known them anyway, but he still had to wonder why would they be journeying with the King Elessar.

"Of course, of course. Forgive me. I was merely surprised to see you here, as I had thought we had seen the last of you when you took your leave", Lundar spoke, lowering his voice now.

"I can imagine", Elessar said and something dark passed in his eyes. He stepped closer and looked very serious. "Now, I would explain my reason for being here, but it is a matter of some sensitivity, and I take it men such as yourselves will make your assumptions anyway. However it appears I have a need of your aid once again, and would ask you to conceal myself and my companions for this day and perhaps tomorrow as well."

"Am I right to assume some uncouth substance is involved?" Hashat asked.

"You are indeed right to think so. I do believe it should not come into a battle, not if you would be willing to let us travel in your caravan and pose as your companions until the danger has passed", said King Elessar quietly. The man's eyes held something powerful and Lundar found it hard to look away. Still, his mind worked fast: while he didn't particularly like the idea of meddling in the business that involved the possibility of a battle, it could never hurt you to have a king in your debt. Moreover, it was a fairly simple thing he was asking anyway and it only required they let the three travel along the caravan. Lundar decided he was positive about the King's request but was thinking Hashat would perhaps not be so happy.

However, his friend did surprise him by nodding emphatically at King Elessar.

"You are welcome to travel with us, my lord."

As thankful as Lothíriel felt towards the merchants who had permitted them to join the caravan, she could not help her frustration that started to grow as soon as it became clear this was not a speedy company. Compared to the haste they had made before the progression now felt as though they were travelling in the pace of slugs. She brooded to herself they might just about make it to the next hill before nightfall.

But she knew they ought to be grateful and so she kept her thoughts to herself. After all, this could be their only chance of avoiding the men Opash had sent after them; they could very well be experienced trackers or know the deserts better than Aragorn, and while she and her friends had only seen two scouts, she did not think Opash would send just a handful of men. All things considered she knew she didn't want to run into their pursuers.

Éowyn rode beside her, her face veiled like that of Lothíriel, but with her eyes shining as though she was focusing hard on something. As for Aragorn, he was presently travelling beside Master Hashat and speaking with him in a low voice. She wondered what her liege-lord was telling the man, but supposed there wasn't even a real chance of spilling any secrets to them anymore, considering the two merchants knew him and probably guessed too what purpose had brought him here.

Evening was falling when bearing the slow pace of the caravan was rewarded, for a company of some twenty men hastened from the direction they had come from. They rode horses and wore clothing that spoke of Umbarian origins. Lothíriel tensed in her saddle as they passed by her: she knew just what – or who – they were looking for.

She was hoping they'd speed past the caravan, but of course they would not be so compliant. Instead, a man who looked to be their leader slowed down his horse and fell to ride beside Master Lundar. Keeping quiet and trying to relax her form, Lothíriel followed them with her eyes. An urge came to her to touch and secure her veil, make sure it really covered her face, but that could look suspicious. Same went for her bow, which she had hidden under the saddle cloths of her dromedary.

But then, even as she was watching Master Lumbar speak with the leader of the pursuers, suddenly a man fell by her side.

"You there", he called in a harsh voice, "show me your face."

She sharply turned to look at him, though she made no move to remove the veil from her face. She didn't speak either, as she wasn't sure if a wife in these parts was supposed to do that.

"I said: show me your face", repeated the man. He was of the Umbarian stock she deemed, short but strong-looking. He had an arrogant sort of look about him which told her more than enough: he would never consider her a real threat and so it would be easy to take him by surprise. Beside Lothíriel, Éowyn was assessing the man as well, her hand resting on the edge of a blanket that the princess knew covered her sword. The White Lady was ready to burst into action any second now.

Fortunately, violence was not needed, as it was then Aragorn sped to the scene, his face dark and thunderous. He forced his dromedary between Lothíriel and the disgusting man.

"Did I give you a permission to talk to my wife, you imbecile?" asked Elessar coldly. It was rather impressive how he changed his tones depending on which role he was leading.

"We are looking for a Gondorian woman. I demand to get a closer look on that wench there", said the Umbarian. It took considerable amount of willpower for Lothíriel to remain still and keep her mouth shut. What disgusting swine!

Aragorn moved so fast Lothíriel almost didn't see it coming. In an eye-blink the blade of a dagger was on the man's neck.

"First you speak to my wife without my leave. Then you insult her in my very presence. I would do well if I killed you right here", Aragorn said in a low, menacing tone any sane man would know to fear.

"What is happening here? Why are you threatening my men?" asked another voice suddenly. The man Lothíriel had guessed was their leader had ridden back from where he had been talking with Master Lundar, who also arrived looking concerned.

"I'm not threatening your men – only this rat who knows not how to treat women and especially wives of other men", Aragorn replied in a calm way that was frankly very disquieting.

"I was just trying to check if she is the woman we're looking for", complained the loathsome fellow who, to her satisfaction, looked rather frightened. At least he had enough sense to know when he was up against someone far more deadly than himself.

"Please, I must beg of you to control your men, Master Korr. This here is my old friend and blood-brother Gil, and the woman is his wife. Surely you know it is not proper to assault other men's wives?" Master Lundar put in. His tone was a perfect study in shocked distaste.

"Shati, you idiot!" snapped Master Korr and proceeded into a litany of what sounded like curses and castigation, but thankfully the princess was spared from knowing the exact contents as the men spoke in their own language and fell back to have their little chat.

"Thank you, gentlemen. I'm not sure I could have dealt with him cleanly", Lothíriel muttered quietly to Aragorn and Master Lundar. The last-mentioned smiled most charmingly.

"It was my pleasure, noble lady", he replied and bowed at her in saddle.

If that meant he knew who she was, she couldn't tell, and she quickly decided she was better off without that knowledge.

Originally, Aragorn had suggested they travel with the company of Masters Lundar and Opash for a few days, but after the incident with the men sent by Opash he deemed it could perhaps be for the better if they tried to get some distance between themselves and their pursuers. Korr and his men could very well return, and who knew what things the nasty fellow called Shati could put in their heads?

"And you have already helped us so much – I do not wish to bring danger on you", Aragorn explained to Lundar and Hashat when the three travellers were about to take their leave with the cover of night.

"Well, you do as you must, my lord", Lundar sighed. He glanced at his companion then and a cunning little smile made its way to his face, "I should tell you that my friend here took a certain liberty before to help you further. Might you be willing to tell these good people of it, Hashat?"

"I happen to know a young chieftain of a tribe that dwells not far from here. Their numbers are considered large and they are famed for their skills in war. I've sent a runner to find him and bring a word of these mercenaries who are hunting you. The chieftain I mentioned is the son of an old friend of mine, and he should be glad to patrol the lands for the scoundrels that Opash sent after you", Hashat explained in a soft voice. He didn't look like he often made such long speeches.

That did bring a surprised look to Aragorn's face, and Lothíriel felt the same. She was thankful of course, but she didn't really understand why these men were so keen to help them.

"If I may ask, my good masters, why have taken such effort to help us?" Éowyn voiced the question that had to be in all their minds. Hashat's face darkened and even Lundar looked gloomy.

"We've had dealings with Master Opash before", he said carefully, glancing at his friend. "And let me just say if there is a way to cause him hindrances and avert his schemes, then it is our pleasure to do just that."

He smiled then and spoke in lighter tones, "And missing kings and you angry people running about all over Harad is not so good for the trade, I deem – you're going to turn this place upside down unless you go and find your friend. Speaking of business, do you think we could perhaps negotiate some arrangements of trade as soon as you've returned north?"

Aragorn chuckled at those words.

"I shall keep that in mind. After all the help you have given us, I am more than glad to have further business with you, gentlemen", he said, and his words instantly brought a highly interested look to the faces of both merchants.

When goodbyes had been said and the travellers had secured their gear on the backs of their dromedaries, they again continued their long journey. They would not take the road this time but instead venture deeper into the deserts. For one, Aragorn was hoping their pursuers wouldn't look for them there, and secondly the ground was more difficult outside the road. Dromedaries were well-suited for trudging those unused paths, but horses were not as sure-footed, though they were faster.

The night was quiet as they travelled, but at last Éowyn spoke up.

"Women. It always comes down to women, when members of the male sex are concerned", she commented. That earned curious looks from both her companions.

"Whatever do you mean?" Aragorn asked. The White Lady looked wryly at him.

"That's what it was about, wasn't it? The reason those merchants were so happy to inconvenience Opash?" she said, shaking her head. "It was probably that silent and grim one. He had some woman and Opash took her from him. And he is bitter that he can't get proper vengeance."

"How do you know this?" Lothíriel inquired, but her friend shrugged.

"I learned to watch people long ago. The reasons people ever do anything are rather simple more often than not, and love is a common driving force – be it for a wife or a child or other kinsman", Éowyn said softly. Aragorn considered her with narrowed eyes.

"I sometimes kind of forget what keen sight you have, my friend. Would you like a position in my Council? Together we could conquer the world", he said, and his tone was so solemn there was no telling if it was in jest or not. Be it as may, she laughed.

"Hold on to that thought, my King. We will have to talk about it later", she simply said, and three of them fell silent, though their mood was now lighter as they journeyed forward into the night.

They took couple of hours before dawn to rest, as even such hardy animals as dromedaries could not go on forever, and they already had some heavy days of travel behind them. They were hoping Korr's men were chasing after their own tails on the road, seeking for them in vain... but that hope proved futile when dawn came and sun began to rise, and Éowyn saw from a hill-top a cloud of dust in south.

She came running down the hill, leaping like a deer in flight.

"We have pursuers!" she snapped to her friends, who were readying their dromedaries, "And I don't know about you but I don't want to stay here to wait for them!"

"What did you see?" Aragorn asked hastily.

"A cloud of dust, but we all know it means riders, and unless there are other people looking for us than those thugs Opash sent, I don't think we need to stand here and debate who they might be. Hurry up, you two!" Éowyn said impatiently. No more words were exchanged; instead, they took their dromedaries and hurried onwards.

It was only much, much later that Lothíriel learned the full story of why their pursuers had found them, and how they eventually were able to hunt the three travellers into a narrow pass between rocky hills. Apparently among the caravan of Lundar and Hashat there were loose tongues that wagged away at the sight of gold – something the two merchants took as a personal insult – and so Korr had been able to find out more about the so called Gil and his two wives. It had not been difficult for them to put together two and two, and the plan was formed: half of the mercenaries pursued the three across the deserts while the rest travelled fast by road and made a cut before their prey.

So it was that they came to the narrow pass at last when the day was growing older, and the three were still pushing their animals.

But Aragorn was seeing how it was about to turn out, and he yelled to his friends: "We will seek a hilltop that's easier to defend there in the pass. Lothíriel, you take care of what you can with your bow, while me and Éowyn -"

What it was he meant they'd do was never spoken out loud, for it was then that the men, those who had made the cut before them, appeared. They came from the other end of the pass, all heavily armed and combined with the men who were now catching up on them they beat the travellers by almost seven to three. Yet even seeing this turn of events Lothíriel pushed back all despairing thoughts, reminding herself Aragorn had beaten worse odds in his time, and no mortal man would ever frighten the Slayer of the Witch-king.

So she took a deep breath and prepared, and as the fury of battle grew in her veins, she drew her bow...

… but then there was a sound of horn echoing over the hills and the desert, freezing them all where they were.

From hill-tops men rose, dressed in sand silk that had effectively hidden them in the landscape, all wielding small bows. There were at least three dozens of them, easily outnumbering both parties below. For one moment Lothíriel took this development for some new devilry of Opash, but then a man on the left side hill stepped forward and shouted out something in the language of Haradrim, and arrows rained. But these were skilled archers, and no shaft fell even close to the three travellers. Instead, they were targeting the mercenaries.

The princess cried out in something of a relieved madness and joined the fight. She picked up the face of Shati among the mercenaries, and only seconds later the loathsome man fell from his saddle.

In the rain of arrows the men sent by Opash were quickly brought down. Those that made it uphill met their ends by more arrows or the gleaming scimitars carried by these strangers that had so unexpectedly made appearance. Even then, though they had turned the tables and remedied a situation that could have developed into something very bad, Aragorn didn't seem eager to trust them without a word. He hissed a word of warning to his friends, who gathered near to him. But when Korr's men were down and the noises of battle had turned into moans of the injured and dying, the man who had bellowed the command before strode down the hill.

He was a comely fellow Lothíriel mused, with shining black hair he had braided to fall on his back. His dark brown eyes were large and expressive, and his air was friendly and pleasant. His back was straight and the way he held himself revealed he was a rather young man, perhaps around Éomer's age or even younger. He was dressed in the same sand-coloured robes as others, but he did not need rich raiments to announce his authority.

"Well met, travellers. Have peace, for I bear you no ill will", he said, lifting his hands in a gesture of good will. "Is any of you hurt? Do you need healers?"

Aragorn glanced at the two women with him and then turned back to face the tribesman.

"We are uninjured, which I believe we owe to you – though I can't say I understand what made you come to our aid like so. In any case you have my thanks, but may I ask your name?" he inquired, bowing his head as a sign of respect and gratitude.

The tribesman smiled, answering Aragorn's bow with one of his own.

"We sought to help you for the sake of an old friend. Master Hashat he is called, and I believe you know him, as he was the one who sent a word of travellers pursued by some Umbarian villains", he replied. "As for my name, I am Chieftain Varanat of Harad. Come, good people – you are most welcome to accompany me to the camp of my tribe."

Sapat's camp

The man came to the camp of the tribe all alone. He had no companions, no guards whatsoever. It was only him and his two horses, one of which he rode while the other served carrying his belongings. It did not surprise Fanara that he would come alone, for she considered men like him didn't really need anyone guarding them. Something like an aura of terror seemed to be around him, repelling all who still had their wits.

It was not his face or clothing that made that aura, as he looked rather ordinary and his dark brown robes were not unusual either. Perhaps it was just his black eyes, as depthless as night and seemingly bearing nothing that even remotely resembled humanity. When one looked at him it was easy to understand why men said Dhaub the Man-eater had no soul.

Fanara didn't know much about him, except that he had served in the very Dark Tower, and learned the arts of torment in the pits where no hope existed. Somehow he had escaped its ruin when Sauron had fallen, and come to dwell in the wide deserts of Haradwaith. In northern lands of Men of the West lords and kings would most likely have paid a great price for the death of this man, just for knowing he haunted the world of the living no more. But there were still some who were just as eager to pay handsomely to get the services of the greatest torturer this age knew.

As she watched him ride into the camp and the other members of the tribe fell back from his way, Fanara felt something like a cold hand clutching at her heart. A shiver ran down her spine and instinct would have had her falling back, to get as far away from him as she could. But she held her ground - this was her tribe and no one, not even a man so horrible as Dhaub, would intimidate her here. And she knew what was this man's business in this camp, and anger took the place of her terror.

She turned and strode swiftly towards the tent of her brother and once there, she pushed through between the guards, not minding their arguments or bothering to announce herself. She practically ran into her brother, who was just about exit the tent.

"You have two minutes to convince me you haven't completely lost your mind. I'd really love to assume that hideous man wandered here by accident, and not because you invited him", she seethed furiously. So did her rage boil that Sapat even took a step back, though his face betrayed not his thoughts.

"I take it Dhaub has arrived, then?" he asked in a colourless voice.

"Have you no shame, Sapat? How could you invite that servant of the Shadow here, among our people? Among our children! You should strike him down and end this madness while you still can!" Fanara angrily scowled, her voice rising with each of her words. But her brother did not listen.

"Move aside, sister", he said. In comparison to hers, his voice was very quiet.

"I won't let you do this! I will not allow you to set loose that man here! No vengeance is worth it, Sapat. The horselord doesn't deserve it!" she tried, her tone turning more desperate now. At the mention of his prisoner, Sapat's eyes flashed.

"I decide what he deserves, not you", he said coldly.

"Please, Sapat. Have mercy! Hasn't the man suffered enough in your hands already?" Fanara pleaded, reaching to grab his shoulders. Before she could reach him he stepped back again, and so her hands only caught air.

"No. I will be content with nothing less than his complete undoing. And Dhaub will be the one to deliver it", said her brother in a cold, unforgiving voice. "Now, if you will excuse me. I have business with my guest."

There she was left standing all alone, and the cold feeling grew in her heart. Sapat truly was beyond reach... that was nothing new, but that he'd sink to this level? That he'd call help from a servant of Sauron? She had underestimated just how deep his hatred ran. On the other hand, could something so black even be called hatred anymore?

Now she knew Varanat was the horselord's only hope. But no word had come from him, and she didn't know if the runner could find Varanat and his tribe in time. And Dhaub was already here. Sapat would not wait... no, he wanted his vengeance in full, and he wanted it now.

Defeat fell on her, heavy as mountains, and Fanara lowered her face in shame and regret. She couldn't save the horselord, nor could she spare him from a dark fate in Dhaub's hands.

She forced herself to move. As she walked quietly outside she felt like walking in a dream; evening was falling but there was chatter in the air, and she didn't wonder why that was. Slowly she made way for the edge of the camp, towards where the cage was kept... for the only thing she could do now was tell the northman what was in store for him – let him prepare, if that was possible.

Éomer had known something was afoot when the chieftain's son came striding fast to the cage, calling to the guards watching him. The young man was speaking speedily in their tongue and he looked overwrought with something. Whatever it was, it could only be something important, as his guards exchanged few sharp words with Shaugit and then followed him, leaving their prisoner alone. He frowned to himself and wondered what this was about, but that didn't prevent him from making use of the moment alone. He moved over to the door of the cage, feeling the lock and hinges with is fingers, and trying to find some weak point in it. Of course, he had done this many times before without any success, and maybe it was foolish to keep trying again and again, but it wasn't like he had anything better to do. If he only could get out and find something he could use for a weapon...

That was when Fanara arrived. The look on her face was what stopped him where he was, and the feeling of foreboding grew on him. Judging by the stir in the camp and her expression one could have assumed Sauron himself had returned with vengeance.

"What is it?" Éomer asked, searching the woman's face carefully.

"A man just arrived to the camp", she spoke in a faint voice and he could even see a revolted shiver go through her. "He is here for you, horselord."

"And what does he want with me?" he asked cautiously, though he did not think for one moment it was a courtesy call.

"Want? I don't think that man really wants anything, except perhaps for there to be some way for the shadow to return", Fanara replied and shook her head. "He only does what other men want for a sufficient price. My brother has called him here."

An ill feeling grew in his chest, and she spoke softly confirming his suspicion: "He's a torturer – the very best they say, of those who live now. I do not doubt it, as the stories tell he was trained in the dungeons of the Dark Tower of the Shadow."

"I can endure torture. Being imprisoned here has surely taught me that", he muttered darkly, even if at the back of his mind he had to admit that a torturer from the very lap of the Enemy would probably be something else entirely. Fanara appeared to know this too, for she sighed and looked at him sadly.

"You can't endure this, horselord – no one with a soul can. He's not some clumsy vengeful fellow who is more likely to kill you in his anger than to really make you suffer. This is a man born and bred in the Shadow, and he can cause you unimaginable pain but still keep you alive for many days. I have no doubt that is exactly what Sapat wants him to do", she said regretfully. "They call him Dhaub the Man-eater. I do not suppose I need to tell you why he got that name."

Éomer did not speak. It was no use trying to argue with her, or attempt to claim she was wrong. He could very well be tenacious and strong, but even the hardiest of men could succumb to pain when it was delivered by men such as this torturer. He had no reason to doubt the truth of Fanara's words.

"Let me go. Please", he murmured, seeking desperately her eyes. She had to know how very badly he needed this - that he couldn't let Sapat have his victory. Indeed, the sadness on her face made way to sympathy, but her eyes betrayed how futile his plead was. Perhaps that was what made her rejection so difficult to accept.

"I'm sorry, but I can't. My brother hates you more than he loves me, and if I let you go and ruin his precious vengeance, he would not hesitate to punish me for it. I have a daughter, horselord, and her father is dead. I can't cause her to lose her mother too. I'm sorry, but I won't choose you over my child", Fanara said softly, turning away her gaze – he knew she couldn't bear to meet his. But he didn't feel angry at her for it. He had lived through the death of both his parents and knew what pain it was. He did not wish that to anyone and least of all to an innocent girl whose uncle wasn't a kindly man like Théoden had been. His freedom was not worth that, nor could he decide his life was more valuable than Fanara's.

Heavily Éomer fell back, feeling the flickers of hope wither in his heart. He was so tired, and all he wanted was to just lay down and sleep... never to awaken into this nightmare again. He was tired of fighting when there was no end to it, and he couldn't break free. All his rage and struggle and all the blood on his hands... none of it had made any difference. He was still a prisoner, and all he could see was this cage. In cold, terrible certainty he felt this was where he would die, and it would be in a humiliating and painful way once Sapat had decided he had enough. And no one would ever know the truth; he'd not see the faces of his friends and loved ones again, and Lothíriel... she'd never know the truth, nor how much he had loved her...

He had failed her.

Éomer lifted his eyes again and wearily looked at Fanara.

"Then give me death. Quick and clean one when I still have my mind, not the slow torment Sapat has designed for me", he said in a colourless voice. "Surely you can give me at least that?"

He expected everything else than what he did see on the face of Fanara. He wouldn't have thought to see the widening of her eyes and the way her mouth fell open. And then her expression turned into a smile, and he frowned.

"I can give you death, horselord", she said, her tone suddenly light. "And then I will give you life."

A/N: And here I return with an update before going away for a bit. I'm about to take at least a week long vacation, and am not sure if I'll have much time for writing. So I'm not certain when I'll be able to update again.

This isn't maybe the best chapter I've ever written, and I'm not sure if I've rushed things up too much here. I really wanted to move the story in this chapter, but I also wanted another appearance from Lundar and Hashat, as it felt like they had just dropped off and I didn't like that. Furthermore, I really want to be done with this part of the story already and it didn't seem very interesting to me to have our three companions to dawdling on the deserts. I'm thinking Éowyn had it right when she mused there were some personal slights between Hashat and Opash, the kind that would make him want to hinder our not-so-pleasant Umbarian if there's any chance of doing that. And the reason Lundar and Hashat continue to help Aragorn is indeed because it never hurts to have a king in your debt.

In case you're wondering where we are timeline-wise, it's around mid-June.

So, our travellers have now met with Varanat. I don't think it's so improbable that Hashat would know him: Varanat's father is supposed to have been a chieftain of a pretty large tribe, and during his time as a warrior I'm sure Hashat travelled quite a bit and knew a lot people. Also, I believe Haradrim chieftains are pretty well-connected and they basically know everyone - they have to, in order to keep up their alliances and relationships with other tribes.

Things haven't really turned out the way Opash would have liked, and we'll see how it'll go from here. I also realise I ended the chapter on a rather mysterious note, but actually I've already given a hint (though not so clear maybe) about what Fanara will do now.

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Quote in the beginning originally by R. Karim.

UntilNeverDawns - Unfortunately for Opash, he's not the only big fish in the sea! :) Presently Fanara doesn't really see how she can make Sapat step down, but maybe that will develop in the next chapter.

I think Fanara believes Varanat is enough her son to see how mindless vengeance really is and also that it won't bring back any dead. She thinks he would agree Éomer is not guilty of what happened in the war, and that it was much more complex than that anyway. Also, she hopes that even if Varanat somehow did believe this was a justified vengeance he'd still listen to her the way Sapat never does.

Talia119 - That is what I try to do at least! Those first chapters of this part were way too slow, so I have to catch up here!

I guess I see how that's confusing. Éomer was only meant to have a mild case of heatstroke there, so as soon as he's properly treated and has something to drink he starts to get better. And the next scene in Sapat's camp takes place a couple days later, and by that time he's already completely recovered. I suppose I could have been more clear about the situation and the passage of time.

Wondereye - Outnumbered as opposed to what? The pieces are still moving, so hold your horses. :) And anyway, they got in without an escort, so maybe they can get out without one as well?

MairaElleth - I hope you're feeling better by now at least!

JackieJR - Well, I'm sad to hear that you feel so about this story, and I must say I wonder why that is, because personally I don't think this is much more melodramatic than my previous stories are in many ways. Yes, I use here some bold devices, but I was under the impression I had already established myself as a ficcer who likes to bend the rules and occasionally tries to go where fics don't usually go. I've always believed fanfiction is the place you can be bold and imaginative in the ways "proper" literature wouldn't allow. And after all it's not like I'm trying to write a novel for publishing here but just something to entertain myself and my readers.

Moreover, in the first chapter's author's note I did actually include the angst warning and I thought I had made it clear this isn't a story you should approach with cynicism. And really, how much more warning than the entire prologue do you even need?