Recommended listening: Shankar — Concerto for Sitar and Orchestra No. 1

CHAPTER XIV: THE ROAD TO HARAD

Aragorn felt as though he had scarcely closed his eyes before the door of his chambers burst open. In rushed a single servant, who crossed to the windows and drew aside the wooden lattice to admit more light, though the haze of dawn still hung on the air.

'Good morning, Forodrim master!' exclaimed the servant. 'I hope it pleases you to dine at this hour; the Captain is already about, and requests your presence at breakfast. I have taken the liberty of preparing new garments for you.'

He gestured to a settee at the foot of Aragorn's bed, upon which had been laid billowing trousers and a tunic, as well as a cropped vest – nearly identical to that worn by the Ploíarkos and his guards. Aragorn eyed this clothing ambivalently; his own was still fresh and inoffensive, yet it would not do to risk the ire of his host. Donning the garments, he followed the servant back through Coronon's halls to the garden where they had feasted the previous evening. Castamir already sat deep in conversation with Tharbadír and his other advisors, though he broke off their discussion to greet Aragorn at once.

'Good morning!' said the Captain. He piled a plate high with bread and cheese, olives, tomatoes, eggs, a few slices of pork – far simpler fare than before – and held it out in offering. 'I hope you slept well.'

'Very peaceably, thank you,' Aragorn replied, accepting the plate, though he laid it aside without eating. 'Have you given any consideration as to when we might depart for Harad?'

'It seems patience is not as highly valued in the north as it is in Umbar,' Castamir remarked. He brought a cup of dark fluid – kahve it was called in that region – to his lips and took a sip before setting it down with painstaking care. 'But there would be no benefit to any such haste, I am afraid. Ephor Herufoth is touring the outer lands of Herumorost at present; it shall be some weeks before he returns to his palace.'

Aragorn made as if to reply, but was interrupted by the appearance of Éomer and the Gondorians, who sat down and immediately set upon the food. All were similarly attired as Aragorn; indeed, even Castamir himself had exchanged his extravagant raiment for unassuming dress. It seemed Undómírë had been unerring in her assertion that the feast was no more than a temporary mirage of affluence.

The Princess must also have spoken true in saying the arts were a constant in Umbarian culture; for even as the company began their meal, a musician strummed upon his lute, gracing the Captain's breakfast table with gentle melodies. But Éomer was equally as hasty as Aragorn – perhaps even more so – and was not content to let his questions go unanswered.

'So when do we make for Harad?' he asked of the Captain, plucking the stem from a tomato.

'As I was explaining to Lord Aragorn,' Castamir replied, 'the Ephor will not be in a position to receive guests for some time. Perhaps you might explore the Havens in the meantime – though I will not be able to escort you, as my duties preoccupy me. I will, of course, make available my Ploíarkos, and am certain my daughter would also be delighted to explain the finer details of Corsair life to you.'

'The opportunity to explore your lands and customs is warmly welcome,' said Aragorn. 'I would very much like to speak at length with your Ploíarkos, and in my brief interactions with her, the Princess has already proven to be a most excellent guide.'

Each of Aragorn's companions turned to him with searching looks, yet their expressions were entirely different in nature: Éomer's one of curiosity, and the Captain's of contemplation. Yet Aragorn's gaze remained on their host.

'Yes, Undómírë is most adept,' said the Captain at last. 'Even when her mother parted this world – having given me only one daughter and no sons – I did not fear, though Undómírë was but a young child at the time. I could not have desired a more capable heir.'

Aragorn pursed his lips but said nothing, and the company returned to their meal. But even as they dined (their discussion primarily consisting of such mundane matters as the Umbarians explaining what dishes graced their plates, or the meaning of whatever song or poem the bards bestowed upon them), a drab pigeon flitted over the walls of Coronon. It descended directly towards the breakfast table and Castamir's arm, which he held suddenly aloft. When the bird perched deftly on the back of his hand, the Captain extracted a small scrap of thin paper from its leg. Once finished reading the paper's contents, he glanced up, only to discover the northerners' curiosity fixed most intently upon him.

'Homing pigeons,' he said with a knowing smile. 'Steadfast and true, the pride and joy of Umbar – even more than our fabled music. Never once has any bird from my lofts failed to deliver its message, if unattacked.'

He folded the paper and slid it into his robes, turning once more to his boiled eggs and engaging the Ploíarkos in discussion. He paid his guests little further attention, leaving them to their breakfast, until the next arrival emerged from the Coronon and glided across the garden towards the pavilion: Undómírë, awake at last.

'Ah, my beautiful tulip!' cried the Captain. 'Rarest of blossoms in our land; how sweetly you blush in the morning chill.'

'Good morning, father,' said Undómírë with a smile. 'Your praise is excessive today; is it perhaps for the benefit of our guests?'

'What need have I to speak of what they can see plainly with their own eyes? My laudations are for your sake alone.'

'You must forgive my father, and pay him no mind,' said Undómírë to Aragorn and Éomer, taking a seat between them. 'He grows anxious, for I am not yet married – though there are many who would consider me old. And there are too few suitors for his liking.' Her tone was light, yet her expression spoke clearly of her distaste in such matters.

'You cannot begrudge an old man doting upon his only daughter,' Castamir protested.

Undómírë eyed her father suspiciously. 'I sense there is some request you wish to make of me.'

'You are too sharp for your own good, my dear,' said the Captain, patting her hands. 'Would it be any great labour to guide our guests about the Havens?"

On hearing this, Undómírë's mood brightened quite suddenly. 'Is that what you would ask of me?' she exclaimed. 'Why, that is no task at all! It would be my pleasure.'

And so, when breakfast was concluded, the Forodrim (as they were referred to by the Corsairs) followed the Princess back along the palace corridors, Tharbadír always keeping guard several paces behind. This time, they were graciously allowed to pass through the palace's front entrance, rather than being secreted away towards a back way.

The doors of the entrance themselves were surprisingly small, though they were ornamented with towering archways of intricate arabesques. In the compound beyond, a garden unfurled to the Coronon's very walls in all directions. It was of such resplendence that the dining area seemed a mere herbalist's plot in comparison; fountains stretched the length of the central walk, which was in turn bordered by flowerbeds and rows of cyprus. To each side lay citrus orchards: oranges upon the west, and grapefruit to the east.

Undómírë strode past these fountains and their ornate glazed tiles without a single glance, however. Indeed, she did not slow until she reached the wrought iron gate set within the palace's defensive walls, its copper accents glinting in the early morning sun. The guards rushed about as she tapped her foot impatiently.

Passing through the hastily-opened gate, the company immediately came upon the market they had glimpsed the previous day. The atmosphere was one of muted suspense, for while the morning rush to prepare was now completed, the bustle of customers had not yet fully descended. Tapestries overhead cast colour and patterns onto the stalls below; blue and scarlet geometric patterns, like those of the palace, stained the northerners' cream tunics. Each merchant clamoured to assure these strange visitors that their own products were superior to those of their neighbours.

'The most delicate tea of the south!' cried one.

'It seems you are about due for a new belt, my lord!' said another to Éomer. 'These are not mere leather straps – to consider them such would be an insult to their craftsmanship!'

'An enchanting trinket for the lady at home? Necklaces– no! A ring, perhaps?'

They clustered close, pressing the northerners with bold coercion. But Undómírë was swift to intervene, stepping between the merchants and their potential patrons. As the market began to fill with the first wave of customers, she guided Aragorn and the others instead to an arcade, the blue roof of which surrounded the market square on three sides. Through a disorienting maze of walkways and crowded stalls the company wandered, absorbed in the sights and smells: spices piled high, gleaming copper cookware, rugs in all colours and patterns imaginable, brass lamps, fresh produce not seen in the lands of Gondor or Rohan – each corner revealed some new fascination.

Maeron had drawn near a stall where one wizened merchant sat, holding out a handful of dried figs in offering, when Undómírë stayed the Captain's hand. Shaking her head, she turned from the stall and took a sharp left turn, exiting the arcade and making for the Heren river.

Here, the towpath was lined with guildhall signs proudly declaring the craft practised beyond each doorway. The Princess passed by several halls before pausing in front of one. The deafening clang emanating from within revealed it to be an ironworks, even if the hammer and anvil hadn't been sufficient to clarify the unfamiliar script writ on its sign. No sooner had the princess stopped, however, than the guild's burly proprietor emerged to block the entrance.

'Their kind is forbidden in my workshop!' he shouted, pointing an accusing finger towards Aragorn and the others. 'I will not allow outsiders to observe the sacrosanct workings of my trade!'

The guildmaster's black beard, speckled with grey, was nearly so prodigious as to rival even that of a well-endowed Dwarf. It brought to Aragorn's mind the thought of Gimli, and by extension his travel companions – and with a quick smile, he allowed his contemplations to wander pleasantly upon the memory of Truva's braids and tresses wafting in the breeze, the earthy scent of her when he held her tight, the gentle caress of her lips upon his—

'Come, come, Angtano,' said Undómírë, breaking Aragorn's reverie. 'Would you deprive your tradesmen the opportunity to flaunt the superiority of their skills?'

The guildmaster frowned heavily, but did not budge; and so Tharbadír drew him briefly aside to hold a whispered conversation. Though Angtano's mouth remained deeply downturned, it was evident the Princess' and Ploíarkos' words carried far more weight than he was willing to test, and thus he eventually stood aside and the Forodrim were granted entrance.

In spite of Angtano's concern, there were few secrets for Aragorn and the others to discover within. They took in the guildhall's forge hearth and its bellows, its workbenches and stacked charcoal, buckets of nails and hinges and spade heads with little surprise.

'A smithy in one land seems very much like a smithy in another,' Captain Maeron remarked.

'And yet each clearly boasts its own specialty,' said Aragorn; for where the ironworks of Gondor were known for their blades influenced by Elven craft, and those of Rohan for the finest horseshoes and other equine trappings, here – tucked amongst more ordinary commodities – were breathtaking artistic pursuits: jewellery of delicate weave, small children's toys, flutes and statues, as well as the patterned lamps and copper wares they had witnessed in the arcade earlier.

But at Angtano's insistence, the tour was soon concluded, and the company reemerged into blinding midday sunlight. They proceeded further along the towpath, only to face similarly chilly receptions at each guild they paid visit to – though when reminded of the opportunity to demonstrate the quality of Umbarian products (and given a rather threatening glare from Tharbadír), the masters were swift to guide the northerners from barrel to saddle, bow to brooch.

From the row of trade halls, Undómírë drifted westward towards the wharfs. Behind immense storehouses lay the merchant guilds, as well as the once-opulent houses of the merchants themselves, all bustling with activity. A constant stream of vessels came and went, unperturbed by the Alcarindur's lurking presence in the Bay, and prompting an unceasing flurry of wares being unloaded and loaded. Stevedores raced about, inspecting boat, sailor, and wares alike.

'Good afternoon, Ploíarkos,' said the portly harbourmaster, immediately ceasing his task at hand and bowing when the company drew near. 'And milady! It is unusual to see you about, so hard upon your last visit.'

'I am here on no official business, save to escort my father's guests about the city,' said Undómírë, indicating the northerners. 'I am sure you are aware of their arrival.'

'Aye, we had a right disruption yesterday noon,' said the harbourmaster. 'But welcome, welcome nonetheless! Have you any questions, I will strive to answer them.'

'How many ships regularly make berth here?' asked Aragorn at once, without a trace of hesitancy. The harbourmaster shifted uncomfortably and glanced at the Ploíarkos, unsure as to whether he ought to answer, but Tharbadír gestured for him to continue.

'Perhaps two dozen large galleys,' he said, 'and at least threescore zebecs and cogs a day – not taking into consideration personal crafts for fishing and whatnot.'

Aragorn eyed the naval vessels bobbing along the northern coast of the harbour. The harbourmaster had answered truthfully, making no attempt to either mask or explain Umbar's unusually strong defences. 'I see,' he said, moving towards the nearest dromund. 'And your wares? What is most commonly traded upon these seas?'

Another nod from Tharbadír and the harbourmaster replied, 'Wool, milord. Glazed ceramics. Olive oil, wine, what little cereals can be grown – wheat, barley, the like.'

Aragorn continued drifting across the wharf, drawing ever nearer to the fortress Ka'phos, its marble walls sleek and unbroken by any window save the narrow embrasures. 'And weapons?'

'Some – not much.' The harbourmaster did not so much as glance at Tharbadír; his answer was clipped and intentionally vague. When Aragorn made as if to approach the fortress outright, Undómírë laid a hand upon his arm to restrain him. Not all secrets of the Havens were freely accessible.

'I have been told you were intrigued by my father's messenger birds,' she offered instead. 'Perhaps you might wish to learn more of their keeping?'

But it mattered not what answer the travellers gave, for already the Princess strode northward along the wharfs, leaving them to hurry after her. The Ploíarkos stalked sullenly behind, as ever.

Where the city's battlements jutted into the Bay, they looped back towards the bulk of the city, making for the Coronon once more. Just beyond the palace's northeastern corner, they came upon the loft of the Captain's homing pigeons, separated from all surrounding buildings by a sizable span. It was a wooden structure comprised of a main building and two wings, which formed a massive aviary enclosed with netting. The visitors entered via a corridor dividing the aviary.

'The rear building contains nestboxes, as well as the infirmary,' said Undómírë as Aragorn and the others peered past the netting, watching the sheen of purple and green glisten on the birds' otherwise drab feathers as they flitted from perch to perch. 'The western wing contains roosts for cocks and young birds, and opposite that for hens and elderly members of the flock.'

'How do you train them?' asked Maeron, for he of all Gondorians was especially fond of bird and beast.

'To some degree, it is in their nature,' the Princess explained. 'We bear them off to increasingly further distances – always a new location – and release them to return to the loft. Those that show the greatest aptitude are trained to fly between here and Harad… or further. Some were even used when we marched northward during the War.'

'Entirely unbeknownst to Gondor and her allies, to whom such birds would appear in no way out of the ordinary,' mused Aragorn, inspecting the floor-to-ceiling hen roosts through a dowel wall.

'Feed them well enough, and they will travel the ends of the earth for you,' said Undómírë, though it was unclear as to whether she had simply not heard the King, or pointedly chosen to ignore his remark.

'To speak of feeding,' Éomer interjected. 'Perhaps it might be discourteous for a guest to speak of it to their host, yet I find myself entirely famished.'

'It is no discourtesy on your part, though it most certainly is on mine,' said Undómírë. 'The afternoon has well passed us by; it was thoughtless of me to keep you so long.'

And so the company slipped back through the aviary gates and returned to the Coronon for their evening meal.

This pattern became familiar in the days that followed. Each morning, Castamir insisted it was not yet a propitious time to depart for Harad, and that he had a great deal of business to conduct about the Havens in the meantime. He would then request Tharbadír and Undómírë escort the northerners about on any number of ventures, which the Princess – for her part – gladly acquiesced to. The Ploíarkos accepted his duty.

When the company had traversed every corner of the central city and explored baker and armoury alike (though the latter was a brief and incomplete visit at the Ploíarkos' insistence), they ventured beyond the high-walled Haven. Just past the battlements were sprawling outskirts, though the sight of them brought Aragorn up sharp:

These disorderly streets were marked by destitution and hardship, if not outright squalor – beyond that which might be caused by war. The houses were no more than hovels, the space between them a tumble of clothing lines and broken craft tools and discarded waste. The children were either babes at their mother's breast, or labouring at tasks best left to adults; none ran about in joy or song. Where most hosts would strive to demonstrate the pride of their homeland, Undómírë showed the visitors abject poverty.

'You witnessed my father's façade of prosperity,' she had said. 'But here, we haven't even the strength for such a showing; our deprivation is stripped bare for all to see.'

But on other days, the company's outings were not so disheartening. They hiked the Bay's northern slopes, where agile goats bounded from rock to rock, or surveyed the training grounds of the youngest carrier pigeons. On one particularly fine afternoon, they lingered within the walls of the city, where as guests of honour they watched performances of Umbar's most renowned musicians, poets, and actors at the Captain's grand amphitheatre.

Though Castamir claimed in word that he was eager to press negotiations with Harad, this was not reflected in his actions. More than a fortnight passed, and still the company lingered in the Havens of Umbar, much to Aragorn's increasing dismay.

Éomer, however, was quite content to remain near the Alcarindur and its promise of reinforcements – though he was appeased to learn the company's next excursion would be by horseback. The sun was particularly blinding that morning, yet its warmth did not reach the earth as the travellers mounted up and followed Undómírë across the Heren, then through the southern streets of the city. The Ploíarkos elected not to accompany them – and indeed had done so for several days running, for he found their ventures time-consuming and an interference with his duties. The Forodrim, he deemed, presented no danger to the Princess.

Thus otherwise unaccompanied, the small party exited through Umbar's secondary southern gates. They continued on beyond the outskirts for no more than a short while before they came upon an expanse of shallow pits, pockmarked with plummeting shafts and great circular washing tables, cisterns dug deep into the parched earth. There was not a hint of movement; the area lay entirely still.

'The mines of Felarust,' said Undómírë, dismounting to retrieve a discarded axe. 'Stripped of every last ounce of copper and whatever other resources were to be found. The entirety of the mines' profits – as well as their defunct workers – were claimed by Harad as repayment for "defence" during the War.'

Aragorn bent low to examine the washing tables' ribbed marble channels, to run his fingers through the dust, to inspect the cupellation hearths. The longer he did not speak, the more words tumbled from Undómírë's lips.

'These mines were in operation for centuries,' she said, ushering the company towards the abandoned shafts. Her voice echoed as they ducked under the low rocky ceiling. In the sudden chill, Éomer gave a great sneeze, the sound of which reverberated far off down endless passageways. Woven baskets littered the gallery, still partially filled with rock.

'It was only a matter of time before the reserves here were entirely depleted,' Undómírë continued, 'yet we did not expect such ends to come so soon. Labour and fish are now the primary levies Harad exacts from us – and while the sea is ever abundant, we haven't sufficient workers to keep pace with their demands.'

'Your tribulations have not been insignificant,' Aragorn mused.

'The mines are a forlorn testament to our misfortune,' the Princess agreed. She led the company back out into the sunlight, which had grown unpleasantly warm in the meantime. They retired for a light lunch in the shade of a haggard oak tree, and several Gondorian guards took the opportunity to doze gently as the chirp of black and white wheatears flitted on the air. Éomer, on the contrary, seemed incapable of repose, and instead paced restlessly amidst the rustling dry grasses, mimicking the birds' strange call.

When at last the heat of high noon abated, the company set off southward in the direction of low rolling hills, enticed by Undómírë's promise of vineyards there. Yet even as they neared the foremost knolls, Éomer rode up beside Aragorn.

'This is no more than a diplomatic campaign; a charade,' said the King of the Eorlingas, his voice low as not to attract Undómírë's attention. 'The Umbarians clearly seek to curry favour with the north, to the disadvantage of Harad – but I am not so convinced their straits are as desperate as they make them to be.'

'There is something amiss,' Aragorn agreed. 'Water remained in the cisterns – more than might be explained by rainfall; I do not think those mines have been out of commission for as long as the Corsairs would have us believe. But while I cannot yet discern their intent, neither can I fault them; for even if they exaggerate their plight, their situation is nevertheless precarious.'

'A perilous game is afoot, and we are playing blindfolded,' Éomer cautioned. His brows were furrowed, and a frown was etched deeply upon his face. 'To travel east would put us in grave danger; we would be cut off from our ships and warriors.'

Aragorn sighed heavily. 'I do not disagree, my friend. Yet we have before us the means of bringing about a final resolution to these unceasing southern hostilities without further conflict, and journeying to the lands of Harad seems the only way to better illuminate both realms' intentions – whatever those may be. That is an end I am willing to put myself at risk for.'

'If such be your will, I will follow,' replied Éomer, but he did not appear reassured.

The two Kings fell silent then, taking in the sparse vegetation and arid landscape. As the company came to the crest of a low hill, they looked down upon undulating lands stretched out before them in a patchwork of delicate vineyards. The short, stout vigneron who oversaw the nearest plantation was there to greet them when they rode up, her woven headscarf and silver curls flapping in the wind off the Bay. A scruffy cattle dog sat alert at her heels.

'If you've come to taste my wine, you'll surely be disappointed,' she stated, waving a shovel in their direction. Neither her tone nor gestures were in any manner inviting.

'No, jajáka,' said Undómírë. 'We're here to inspect how the vineyards fare.'

The grooves of the old woman's worn face deepened when she frowned. 'You've eyes, haven't you?' she said bitterly. 'Any can see we've had a rough time of it.'

She did not wait for the company to fully dismount before stalking off towards the nearest trellises, where withered vines and brittle leaves still clung to their supports. She slammed the blade of her shovel down into the hardened earth, bent over, and pulled out a segment of root.

'Aphids!' she cried, thrusting her hand towards Undómírë and the visitors. When they leaned in close, they could indeed discern tiny bugs crawling along the white flesh of the root. 'They have plagued my vineyard these last two years, and simply refuse to die!'

'Have you tried the yellow mites?' asked Undómírë. 'They have eaten aphids in the past, and in turn provided sustenance for birds. And what of the mine smoke?'

'We've tried all the usual solutions, as you would expect,' said the vigneron, clearly irritated at being questioned so. 'None have had any effect.'

Aragorn stepped forward then, a thoughtful look upon his face. 'There are vineyards in the north, far beyond the lands of Gondor, where vines grow largely undisturbed by aphids; perhaps we might graft these strains together in hopes of producing one resistant to them?'

The vigneron eyed him warily. 'Who is this outsider, who speaks so strangely both in sound and meaning?'

'It is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur and High King of Gondor,' said Undómírë. 'You owe him the same respect you would bestow upon my father, Captain Castamir.'

This remonstration did not improve the old woman's attitude in any way, and indeed quite the opposite; her sun-darkened cheeks glowed red. 'You would bring such a heathen to my lands – to these revered lands of my ancestors!' she sputtered. 'My son served as dokímos on a ship moored at Pelargir during the War; he nearly fell at this upstart's hands!'

'Yes, but your son did not fall, and in fact abandoned ship at the first sight of conflict, did he not?' said Undómírë, quickly intervening. 'And so we come together now to make amends. Why do you not illustrate to our guests the art of viticulture? Your brand upon any barrel always fetches the highest price at market, so prolific is your product."

This flattery appeased the vigneron somewhat, and she stomped off through the trellis rows with the Gondorian guards in tow, Éomer trailing in the rear. The wizened jajáka offered a withered grape to Maeron, and the Captain placed it delicately into his mouth, only to promptly spit it out when she muttered something indistinguishable about moth eggs.

Aragorn lingered behind. He crouched to scoop a handful of soil and allow the rocky dust to trickle through his fingers. It was even more parched than expected. When he rose to rejoin the others, however, he found Undómírë at his side. Stifling his surprise, he walked with the Princess in silence a moment before turning suddenly to face her.

'I wish to thank you for devoting yourself to our edification,' he said, mindful of every word that left his lips. 'These past few weeks have been truly insightful, and I see now the Havens' state of affairs is far more desperate than ever I was led to believe. I owe you a most sincere apology, and a reiteration of my promise to grant succour in Umbar's negotiations with Harad.'

'I thank you for your sentiments,' said Undómírë, turning her light eyes Aragorn. There was a smile upon her face – and pain also. 'A lesser man would not so readily admit to having been mistaken. Long has Umbar suffered at the hands of those lands both to the east and north, and it is my hope that, through your aid, we shall at last be spared unnecessary hardship.'

'It may perhaps be too ambitious to hope for true allyship between our nations, yet I would not see your people suffer any more than mine.'

A smile did grace Undómírë's lips then. 'You do each of your many titles great honour.'

'And I could likewise not imagine a figure of superior intelligence or grace as sovereign of Umbar,' said Aragorn, resuming their walk. 'As I understand, you have no brothers; it would be a terrible oversight on your father's part, were he to pass unto any other the mantle of Captain.'

'Who can say what intentions lurk in the depths of my father's mind?' Undómírë said with a gentle laugh. 'I will do what is asked of me, and have no further ambitions.'

She traipsed towards a trellis where the vigneron was demonstrating proper methods of tying vine to cane. Aragorn followed, feeling as though he were no closer to understanding the enigmatic Princess. Though he strove to devote his attention to the old woman's long-winded explanations, his mind continued to wander back to the Felarust mines.

Afternoon stretched into the early evening hours, and it was not until sundown that the company returned to the Coronon. As ever, Castamir dined alongside his guests, and beckoned for the evening's entertainment to begin with music. Prompted by his conversation with Éomer earlier in the day, Aragorn did not so much as allow the first song to pass without approaching the Captain.

'Many days has my company spent in your splendid realm,' he began as Castamir busied himself with a carrier pigeon, clearly reluctant to speak on the matter which he knew to be coming. 'And much we have learned about Umbar and its people. Your hospitality has been unstinting; for that, I cannot overstate my gratitude.'

'I feared you would not take us at our word in saying we desired amity,' said the Captain. 'The ties between Umbar and Gondor have long been fraught with antagonism. It pleases me to hear you have not allowed this to cloud your judgement.'

'I see now that your actions were merely those of desperation,' said Aragorn, though with every word his doubt grew. 'It is unfortunate that many lives have been lost in the discovery of this truth, yet my only wish is to move forward peaceably with the Haradwaith.'

'Will we not soon depart for those lands,' interjected Éomer, 'and so spread this harmonious spirit?'

The Captain's eyes shifted from one northern King to the other, his expression indecipherable. 'If you so wish it,' he said after a time. 'The Ephor's tour is sure to end soon, though I cannot guarantee what will become of you should we arrive at the gates of Herumorost ere he returns; any understanding that exists now between us does not extend to those lands. Nevertheless, I will conclude with all haste my business here and prepare a caravan to guide us eastward, if that will sate your impatience.'

Thus they were agreed to make for Harad at last – though it was a further three days before the northerners stood at the main entrance of the city, warily eyeing a convoy that arrayed itself beneath the shadows of a massive guard tower. It was not horses that greeted them, but strange, sway-backed creatures with golden fur, more than twice the size of an ordinary mount. The animals' long, knobble-kneed legs did not give any illusions of strength, and they stood listlessly about as Tharbadír and a flurry of guards loaded packs upon their backs.

'What in Helm's name are those beasts?' Éomer exclaimed. 'I've half a mind to return to our ship and bring Firefoot ashore – I cannot put my faith in such stupid-looking creatures.'

'A horse will not fare nearly so well as a kamel in these lands, my lord,' said Castamir, emerging from the guard tower with a large coffer in hand. 'Not even your fabled Mearas can go so long without water, or walk so easily upon the shifting desert sands. If you wish to keep pace with us, it is best you take a liking to these stupid-looking creatures, as you say.'

Éomer merely grunted in response. The Captain paid him no mind, placing the coffer upon the ground and throwing it open. 'I think the time for me to restore your weapons to you has long since come and passed,' he said. 'Safe as the sands are, they are not entirely free of hazard, and you have more than proven your trustworthiness.'

Aragorn was beside the chest in an instant, already extricating his blade as the others clustered about. Andúril once more strapped at his side, he approached one of the kamels and cautiously extended a hand palm upward, fingers curled. The creature reached its long neck forward and promptly gave a sharp nip, scarcely missing Aragorn's fingers – but not before a great glob of mucus slopped from its mouth onto Aragorn's forearm.

The entire gathering burst into guffaws, the loudest of which came from the Corsairs; but also a gentler, more musical laughter wove into the chorus as Undómírë appeared.

'They are obstinate creatures, my lord,' said the Princess, offering Aragorn a cloth with which to wipe his sleeve. She then took the kamel by its lead and tied it in line with a score of others. 'They go where they will and stop where they like, and there is no convincing them otherwise. But they are loyal and hardy, and will bear us to Herumorost without any significant trouble.'

'Do you come with us, milady?' Aragorn asked, still observing the kamels warily. With a brief glance towards her father, Undómírë drew closer.

'As perhaps you may have discerned, my father's many skills do not include negotiation,' she whispered. 'I will accompany him, to aid as best I might.'

With that, she approached a kamel lying upon the sandy road and ascended a short ladder, slipping within the opulent litter strapped to its back. She swiftly drew a curtain about her, though she left a small slit to observe the outside world.

The other Corsairs likewise began to prepare for departure, leading each of the northmen to their own mount. While several of the kamels were outfitted with a ladder attached to the saddle, many were not; and even when the beasts lay upon the ground, their riders required assistance in climbing between the two humps. Maeron soon discovered the kamels also rose with their rear legs first, sending the hapless Captain heel over head onto the ground.

Once the Forodrim were all settled – a production which provided great amusement to the Umbarians – Tharbadír went about tying each of the kamels from tail to nose, two to each member of the company. The Ploíarkos then took the lead of the foremost beast and set out at last on foot: first through the towering battlements, then into the expansive outskirts of the Havens beyond.

They followed the banks of the Heren all morning, travelling opposite the river's current as it flowed towards the Bay. The city outskirts extended so far eastward that still the company had not cleared them by late afternoon, but eventually even the most distant of dwellings lay behind them. Here, the Heren curved northward whilst the company continued east along the established road, until they came upon a vast plain of golden sands stretching out into an endless expanse. The sun glared down as if issuing a challenge.

This challenge Castamir accepted without hesitation, striking out across the desert undaunted. But the company had gone no further than a league before the road disappeared entirely beneath the sands' shifting features, slowing their progress considerably. The kamels' cloven toes sunk into the unsteady surface; small hillocks mounted into immobile waves, arcing higher than the travellers' heads, forcing them to weave circuitous routes through the dune slacks. Winds swept unceasingly across the open lands.

All traces of Umbar were gone from sight when the skies grew fully dark and the caravan halted. They took shelter at the base of a low dune, and both Éomer and Maeron leapt to aid Tharbadír as he constructed a simple lean-to against the wind. Another Corsair guard set a fire to ward off the rapidly descending chill of night, while yet others meandered amidst the kamels, ducking low towards the animals' feet, prompting Aragorn to approach the Captain out of curiosity.

'Do you not hitch your kamels to a picket or post?' he asked.

Castamir turned to him with an amused smile. 'Have you never heard the braying of a displeased kamel?' he asked. 'Kamels are not horses; they do not like to be restrained. They grow bored and mischievous, and will keep you awake throughout the night with their absurd noises if you do not at least grant them the illusion of freedom. Hobbling merely shortens their stride, and prevents them from wandering too far in the night.'

'Will you not show me?' said Aragorn, for in the north there had never been a dearth of trees to which horses might be tied, if restraining was necessary at all.

'He who does not properly hobble his kamel hobbles himself,' said Castamir, beckoning Aragorn forward.

The Captain demonstrated how to fasten a short length of rope with a knot at one end and a loop at the other about the kamels' forelegs. Aragorn swiftly grew comfortable with this process, and even ventured to offer another hand of greeting to his mount when their task was completed. This time, the kamel met him with a gentle nibble, searching for anything edible. Castamir passed several handfuls of hay to Aragorn, who in turn offered it to the kamel; only then was the creature content to let him stroke the coarse fur of its neck.

'They're right ornery beasts,' said the Captain, giving the kamel several emphatic pats. 'But Deve is the most even-tempered of our herd, and you've certainly a knack for pacifying her.'

'Deve?'

'Aye, the females are the least irritable,' he explained as they began to wander back towards camp. 'And it's best you avoid the bulls altogether.'

When they rejoined the others, the lean-to had successfully been erected and Tharbadír was passing around small servings of goat stew. Undómírë had emerged from the litter and sat between the Corsairs and Forodrim as the latter bemoaned the soreness that plagued their bodies.

'I suspect it shall be far worse come morning,' Aragorn commented, taking a place beside the Princess.

'Do not speak truths we have no desire to hear!' Maeron bemoaned to the laughter of all, setting the mood by which the jolly evening was passed. In true Umbarian fashion, one of the Corsairs extricated a flute from his pack and played several lively tunes, followed by the northerners' contributions. Even Undómírë graced the gathering with a song, yet when the last strains drifted away and the others resumed their conversations, the Princess rose and turned towards the litter.

'You would sleep in so cramped a space?' Aragorn asked. 'Is it not uncomfortable?'

'Where else would I sleep?' she countered.

'In the open, beneath the stars.'

'In the company of men below my station? How barbaric!' she laughed, slipping into the litter.

Despite the kamels' hobbles, the beasts were found some distance from camp come morning, and it took considerable effort to regroup and press on. The winds rose up ever harsher, sending the northmen's loose Haradrim robes billowing. But the kamel's lackadaisical pace plodded on unperturbed, seemingly for all of eternity. That day proved indistinguishable from the one previous, and from all the days that followed, and thus nearly a week transpired with little to interrupt the tedium.

One afternoon, in the midst of the journey's monotonous haze, the company breached a sand dune peak, only to look down upon what seemed nothing more than a temptatious illusion: the vision of a green-watered pool. It was surrounded by vegetation, lush in comparison to the otherwise sparse surroundings; strange, skinny trees with wispy fronds clustered at their very top shot up from the sands, growing so thick upon one side of the pool that they provided a barrier against the winds and shifting sands. Arrayed about the edge, beneath the trees' paltry shadow, were splayed tents, low and wide.

In the heat of midday, there was nary a sign of any occupant, but as the company wound its way down the steep embankment, a young man ducked from beneath the nearest tent. He called out in a language unfamiliar to the Forodrim, and in a flash he was joined by half a dozen others. These dark-skinned Southrons rushed to greet the travellers, chattering excitedly betwixt themselves, and aided the company in dismounting and hobbling their kamels.

'A visit from the Captain is always a joyous one!' declared the first man, breaking suddenly into the Common Tongue. 'Welcome, welcome, fair travellers; come shake off the sands from your robes and rest a while at our humble Óasi!'

He ushered the company into the shade of his tent, which was similar in style to that in the garden at Coronon. While overhead was a simple pattern of dark stripes, rugs carpeting the ground were a dizzying flourish of red and black – though said rugs were nearly obscured by many pillows strewn about. Pitchers of water stood alluringly upon low tables.

'Please, recline wherever best pleases you!' said the man. 'We are few in number these recent days, yet we are never lacking in hospitality. I will return shortly with food and drink – for even if you have eaten, I would ask that you indulge in yet another course.'

'Thank you, Plíthos,' said the Captain, accepting a waterskin from another of the men. 'We have not yet eaten, and one meal shall more than suffice; though it is for such geniality that I always greet the sight of the Óasi with a sense of wondrous reprieve.'

'We delight in entertaining each and every wayward guest,' said Plíthos, scurrying off to fetch an array of foodstuffs.

'Two meals!' Éomer remarked as he settled against a pillow. 'The Holbytlan would be well-pleased with such a haven; though had they been travelling with us, we would never have heard the end of their grumbling in having to wait so long for their midday meal.'

'I daresay Pippin would have called a halt to our progress and demanded we sup upon the very dunes themselves,' Aragorn chuckled.

'Holbytlan?' asked Undomire, entering far behind the others. 'Will you not enlighten us as to what a Holbytla is?'

'Perhaps you know them as Hobbits, or Halflings, or even Perian in the language of those who came before,' answered Aragorn, 'called so as they are no taller than a child. They are curious, elusive folk that dwell far in the north, and lead enviably simple lives – or did at one time.'

'I have heard tell of such creatures!' Plíthos exclaimed. He had returned with arms ladened, bearing all manner of stewed meats and vegetables, flatbread, and chilled mint tea, which he laid before the visitors with a flourish. 'A warrior from Herumorost – who came under our tents not a fortnight ago – even claimed to have seen a Halfling at the Slaughter of Morannon!'

This term caused the northerners to glance between themselves. Éomer coughed uncomfortably. ''Tis true,' he said. 'Four there were amongst our ranks, including little Peregrin, who stood before the Black Gates.'

'Ah me, I regret calling the warrior's tale ludicrous now!' said Plíthos, shaking his head, oblivious to the tense mood that ensnared his guests. 'Many wayfarers have I met in my time at the Óasi, and many stories have I heard – some more believable than others. Yet I thought his to be the most absurd of all, only for it to prove true!'

'Sometimes it is the strangest tales that find their foundation in actuality,' mused the Captain before motioning for the company to begin their meal.

Their host was the first to present them with a song, his sonorous voice lilting upon the air, speaking of ages long ago and in a language the Forodrim did not understand; yet with the emotion Plíthos conveyed, they could not help but feel the story most intimately. No sooner had he concluded the first verse, however, than the other Óasi residents joined in, plucking at zithers and blowing upon flutes and tapping drums. Such music was entirely new to the northerners – it was simultaneously mournful yet cheerful, with a patient, delicate strength behind it.

After several calls for encores from Maeron and the other Gondorian guards, Plíthos at last retired and gratefully accepted a cup of tea from Éomer. As the other musicians played on, the Óasi host turned to Castamir and, still short of breath for his efforts, asked, 'Say, have you perhaps heard any news out of Herumorost? Not three weeks ago was there a terrible influx of travellers passing from out west, yet afterward there were none until your party. Why might this be?'

The glare both Castamir and Tharbadír gave Plíthos did not evade Aragorn's notice – yet no sooner had he discerned it than it was gone, replaced by placid smiles.

'Who can say?' said the Captain. 'The markets are ever shifting, the ebb and swell of our nomads ever unpredictable.'

It was clear the conversation was ended with these half-assurances, yet something about Castamir's sharpness, the sudden alertness of his posture which unsettled Aragorn. He cast a glance towards Éomer, who had likewise fixed the inscrutable Corsair beneath his gaze. But their concerns were drowned out by the levity filling the tent as late afternoon transitioned to early evening; thus they pursued it no further.

When the outside temperature plummeted, Plíthos drew the tent's open flaps down over the entrance. One final cup of the Havens' infamous black kahve was shared, then the Umbarians were escorted to their own tent, and the northern guests offered cots within the main tent.

Moved by the evening's music and the Óasi residents' inviting nature, Aragorn's thoughts turned to the Eorlingas and their indefatigable hospitality. He recalled the numerous feasts he had spent in their company, and thus his thoughts also turned naturally to Truva. The unfortuitous circumstances of their meeting now seemed so far away, so inconsequential in comparison to all they had endured since, and all they faced now. What would she have made of the Corsairs' plight? How far had she and the others advanced up the Anduin? Though he had only ever shown Truva a bold and brave façade, he was frankly terrified she would discover some truth that would cause her to reconsider what lay between them – for though he would ever love her, love was not always sufficient in the short, brutal lives of Men.

Even as Aragorn stared up at the dark mohair tent roof, he longed to hold Truva in his embrace, so that she might ease his troubled mind and soothe his weary heart. He did not sleep well that night, or the next

After three days' rest in the paradisiacal Óasi, replenishing their supplies and the kamels' vigour, Castamir saw fit to resume the company's mundane journey. Freezing mornings gave way to scorching afternoons, only for the chill to steal once more across the golden sea come nightfall. The kamels' progress was so leisurely that their riders often preferred to dismount and walk themselves, especially when the cold tendrils of dawn still clung to their limbs.

On the fifth afternoon, a pinprick appeared on the horizon. The company made directly for this hint of habitation; and throughout the day the speck grew larger, taking on some semblance of structure. Then, even as the periwinkle curtain of dusk descended upon them, a grey smudge also emerged far in the distance beyond. But it was still only the nearest of these two aberrations that became clear in the lingering light, aided by the lighting of lanterns: a caravanserai, perfectly square with high walls and a single, well-fortified entrance.

A voice rang out in challenge when the company drew near the carevanserai's massive archway: 'Who goes there?'

''Tis I, Castamir,' the Captain shouted back, 'come to seek an audience with the Ephor. Are you satisfied, having seen fit to question me?'

At once, the sound of rattling chains could be heard. Slowly, slowly, the heavy wooden doors drew inwards to admit the caravan.

'You must forgive me, milord; it is dark, and you come in strange company,' said the porter, bowing low but never taking his eye off Aragorn and the others. 'Nor have we seen you in these parts for quite some time.'

'And so I return to your lands for a long-overdue counsel with your Ephor,' said the Captain. 'Run and have your fastest page boy inform Herufoth that I have come at last into the realm of Harad.'

The porter bowed once more and raced off, leaving the company to enter the complex unaccompanied. In the very centre of the courtyard stood a tiled drinking pool for livestock, its perimeter littered with a smattering of merchants' stalls, boasting torches lit to entice drunkards to their foods or wares. The inner battlements were no more than two storeys high, lined with rows of arched entrances leading to both stalls and chambers beyond the encircling portico. Gossamer curtains wafted in the breeze, distinct patterns apparent even in the low light of the torches. From high above, the sound of a zither wafted down.

'Allow your animals to drink,' ordered the Captain. 'Let us quench our thirst as well, then we shall put them to stable.'

Tossing the kamels' leads over their necks and leaving them at the fountain under the care of a single hapless Corsair, the remaining travellers soon found the tavern by following the raucous noise that emanated from it. They crammed together into a corner with three tiny tables, Undómírë apologising profusely when she was pressed between Aragorn and Castamir, though Aragorn merely wedged in tighter against Éomer to allow her space.

It was the Captain himself who insisted they remain seated as he sought out the barkeep, yet Tharbadír leapt up at once to aid him in making several circuits between counter and table. In a flash, the two had transported nearly a score of wine goblets for the company members; the Captain took especial care to place one each before Aragorn and Éomer, keeping another for himself.

As he sat, he glanced about the tables to ensure the others were deep in conversation before turning to the northern Kings. 'Perhaps you saw the shadow upon the horizon this afternoon, as we drew near the caravanserai?'

'I presume it is our destination,' said Aragorn.

'That it is,' said the Captain, taking a deep draught of his wine. Both Éomer and Aragorn raised their glasses in acknowledgement, but drank no more than a sip. 'We shall come upon it – and its leader – on the morrow. Now, the Ephor is cunning and cruel; he has no mind for egality, only dominance. Alone, Umbar had no hope of resisting Harad's overwhelming strength. Alone, the north has no hope of endearing themselves to Harad. But with our combined power, perhaps Herufoth might be persuaded to see reason.'

'What terms would you negotiate?' said Éomer.

'Independence,' Castamir stated simply. 'Independence, and free trade between our lands, unrestrained by excessive tariffs. I would see the end of burdensome levies, as well, and for no King to claim superiority over the other. These are reasonable requests, are they not?'

'And if these negotiations go poorly,' cautioned Aragorn, 'are you prepared for all trade between Umbar and Harad to cease, and to subsist beside a hostile neighbour? Any benefit you currently reap from your proximity and partnership with those lands – no matter how small – might suddenly be withdrawn and replaced with far harsher conditions.'

'Even the largest advantage our alliance with Harad bestows upon us is far outweighed by the innumerable troubles they hang about our necks,' Castamir insisted. 'No, my lord Aragorn, I will not be turned from this path – nor should you hope that I am. A disadvantageous outcome for Umbar is a disadvantageous outcome for Gondor, as well. If these negotiations prove unsuccessful, and our relations with Harad worsen – or even remain the same – Umbar will be in no position to alter its behaviour with regard to ensuring our people are provided for.'

Aragorn did not address the thinly-veiled threat of resumed attacks upon Belfalas, Lebennin, and Lossnarch the Captain alluded to. He had seen the stunningly robust fleet floating in the Bay of Umbar. Gondor would fight if she had to; but it would be bloody.

'Let us see what tomorrow brings,' was all he said.

When their glasses ran dry, the company emerged once more into the courtyard and guided the kamels – thirst was now sated – into the stables lining the ground floor. Once the creatures were situated in their stalls, the travellers mounted rickety steps to the second floor, where they retired to an unfurnished room spread with dry grasses.

They did not sleep long, however, for the Ploíarkos roused them long ere dawn broke. They set out in the darkness, the haze of Herumoros growing more pronounced against the gradually lightening sky.