Don't hate me! I know I told some of you that I'd have this up last Friday, but that just didn't happen. I need to stop making promises if I can't keep them. I told a couple of you that it'd be up today and I am just barely making that deadline (at least in my time zone). But anyway this update is from a new perspective so I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter Twenty-One (Baran)

Envy had accompanied me all of my life, I was no stranger to it. Jibran had been more than fifteen years older than me and I had been jealous of all he could do when I was just a child. That envy of him had carried on as I grew into adolescence and he was a man receiving praises, accolades, and positions from the King himself. At thirty years old, my brother was the highest ranking man in the Haradrim army, outside of King Hashad and Prince Na'man. It was unheard of. I was only his kid brother in the eyes of everyone else, but he allowed me to spend what free time he had with him and everyone tolerated me because he mandated it with the very looks he gave.

Three years later, he was betrothed and married to Mareke. She was not much older than I, perhaps three or so years, but she carried herself with such poise and grace and there was no one in our city who did not care for her. It was incredible to go out into the city with the pair of them. The roars of the people were deafening if there was a celebration or event and even when there was not, women and children rushed to her to give her trinkets and gifts, while the men swarmed my brother to praise him for his bravery and diligence.

She was always kind to me even when Jibran lost his patience as he sometimes did. I sometimes feared that I would not be as strong or brave as him and that hindered my training. If I had relaxed it would have gone much smoother and he knew that. Jibran could occasionally be harsh with me.

But Mareke was always there with a kind word or a joke to lighten my spirits and I slowly fell in love with her. The envy became more fierce every time I would leave them for the night. They would retreat to their rooms in the palace, her hanging on Jibran's arm and smiling up at him in an adoring manner, sharing whispers and laughs, as I went back to my mother's small house in the city.

I wanted her to look at me as she did him. I hated being Jibran's younger brother. I was not so very much younger than she, but he was the first born and had won his success first and one prize of that success had been our Princess.

My nephew was not even two years old when his father returned to Harad on a bier. No word had been sent ahead that our greatest general had fallen on Pelennor Field and so Mareke was waiting anxiously for her husband with their son on her hip as I rode back into the city, what was left of our army behind me, and my brother's corpse beside me.

"Mareke," I began upon dismounting, the smile already slipping from her face. "I am so sorry."

"No." She shook her head. "No, no. This is a jest." She looked from me to Jibran's prone form and back again.

Adnan slipped from her arms and luckily landed on his feet. King Hashad picked him up, but took a step away from his daughter.

She moved past me and it was anger playing on her face, not sadness.

"How could you do this?" She demanded. "How could you leave us like this?" Mareke was standing above her husband's body, though he would never respond to her again. She raised her fists and beat on his chest that was covered in his armor.

"Mareke," I said, alarmed, stepping up behind her and wrapping my arms around her so that her arms were pinned to her side.

Her body was heaving from the sobs that were wracking through her and upon catching her breath she gave the most bloodcurdling scream I had ever heard.

Adnan wailed in the background and as I looked behind me I saw her parents looking helplessly on, tears streaming down the Queen's cheeks.

Mareke strained against me, but I held her tightly. After a few moments of struggling against her strength fueled by rage, her body went limp. I hefted her into my arms and walked into the palace and towards her rooms. I knew exactly where they were. She had invited me into her sitting room once or twice, but I had also stood outside of the doors, torturing myself by listening to my brother and his wife laughing in the evenings or even worse, continuing to listen when the laughter subsided and turned into moans of pleasure.

I laid her gently in her bed. She stared blankly at the ceiling above her, not looking at me. Her body was no longer shuddering and still no tears fell.

I could not find any words for her. I had been a third party to her and Jibran's marriage and I knew how happy they had been, even though it killed me to admit it. I could not imagine what she was thinking or feeling and so I continued to sit next to her, stroking the back of her hand.

Mareke hardly moved for the next six months. At Jibran's funeral, she walked dangerously close to his funeral pyre. The flames blew her curls around her face as they licked her husband's body. I followed her, a step behind, so that she would not make a rash decision. Tears were silently sliding down her face. There was no more screaming or anger. She was desolate.

I caught her when her weak legs gave out and she fainted to protect her mind from what was going on around her.

Even though she herself had been too depressed to care much for Adnan, she had insisted that he not spend time with his nurses and so her parents and I shared those duties. I requested that my responsibilities for the army be lightened for a while and spent many of my days with my nephew until Mareke finally emerged from her rooms looking haggard and still exhausted, but trying to be a mother once more.

I loved her then for her resilience.

Mareke relied on me heavily after Jibran passed and I felt as though I were stepping into his role. I spent all of my free time with her and Adnan, we ate dinner together, swam in her pool when the days were unbearably hot.

A year passed and I had began contemplating asking Hashad if I could marry his daughter, but about that time I was sent out into Harad with a small contingent of men to subdue those who were unhappy with the outcome of the War and their poor conditions since we had been cut off from the rest of the world.

When I returned, Mareke and Adnan were gone. I spent my nights lying in bed, lonely, bitterly thinking that Hashad had sent me away purposely at that time so that he could make a better match for his daughter.

I dreamed of her constantly. I dreamed that I made my way to the White City and stole her back to Harad and lived with her as Jibran had.

The woman who had returned to Harad was not who I remembered until she had appeared at the welcome feast transformed into the wife of my brother when he was alive. When she first laughed, it looked as though it hurt her. I imagined she had not laughed with so little inhibition since she had left her home.

I was not the only one who had been so taken with her that night though. Continually, I caught the Gondoran King smiling in her direction, watching her intently and I found that bitterly unfair.

The King and Queen of Harad had told me of his kindness and generosity to Mareke and Adnan, but they had also said that there was a coldness and a distance between the couple.

But there he sat, in the seat of honor, looking happy as could be watching his young wife, but I knew he had not appreciated that same woman when she was in Minas Tirith. That man was able to go into her chambers at night, to feel her warm skin against his, to spend his time with her and I was leagues and leagues away pining for her both during my waking hours and as I slept.

"Baran, would you take me to your mother's house tomorrow?" Mareke asked me as we sat on the edge of her pool and watched Adnan paddle around, our legs hanging over the edge.

The pale King had taken to a spot in the shade.

"Of course," I replied quietly.

"I was not ready to come back here," she admitted. She continued to speak Sindarin which I found frustrating. I wanted to speak in our language, but when her new husband was around she refused to do so.

I nodded. "But we were ready for you to be back."

ooooOoooo

The next day I came into Mareke's rooms just after lunch to fetch her and Adnan for our trek into the city.

"Where are you going?" The King asked her.

Every time he spoke, I had an urge to put my hands on him. I knew he was a skilled warrior but there were was something to be said for youth and strength.

"To visit my mother-in-law," she replied easily, though that was not truly who she was going to visit.

The King looked hurt to not be included.

"You would not feel comfortable there," Mareke said. "And besides you have another meeting with my father."

"Do not worry, Your Majesty," I said, stepping up very close behind Mareke. "She is in good hands. We have made this trip several times before she came to your home."

He looked at me, but did not say anything.

I gave him a smirk when Mareke was not looking. He should know that I knew her best, had known her for a very long time.

"We will be back before dinner," she promised.

The King nodded. "Very well. Enjoy your trip."

Mareke put her hand lightly on my arm and Adnan took my free hand. I could not help but smile as we left her husband behind us.

Upon leaving the walls of the palace, we were once more swarmed by people when they realized that their princess was more among them. Her hands were quickly filled with flowers while some of the shopkeepers came out and gave sweets to Adnan.

"You can have one," Mareke said to him when the people had cleared. "Give the rest to your uncle to hold onto."

Adnan gave me a pinched face and handed over most of what had been given to him, holding on to the largest cinnamon cake. When Mareke was not looking I handed him two more sweets and put my fingers to my lips.

"I saw that," Mareke said quietly. "But I shall allow it."

I burst into laughter. "You always could see everything. That boy would be impossible to spoil if you were not occasionally lenient."

"Tell me Baran, does a spoiled child turn into a good warrior?" She asked with a laugh.

"I do not think an extra cake will ruin his prospects," I returned, looking down at her.

The sun was shining off of her skin and it was though I was seeing her for the first time. My breath caught in my chest.

"Are you alright?" She asked, putting her other hand on my arm.

"Of course. I forgot how beautiful you are is all," I said with a smile. It was a lie. I had not forgotten. I could not forget.

"Baran," she said, chiding me gently, though a smile crossed her face. I only barely caught a glimpse of it before she looked at the cobbles under her feet.

Around us, the houses got smaller and smaller until we arrived at the one in which I had grown up in.

I tried the doorknob and it was unlocked as it usually was. I placed my hand gently on the small of Mareke's back and ushered her in after Adnan.

My tiny, wizened mother was immediately upon her, pulling her down for a tight hug and speaking rapidly.

"Should I curtsy to you now, Your Majesty?" She asked with a laugh.

"Never!" Mareke shook her head.

"And there is my little prince," Adnan ran into his grandmother's arms. If Mareke wanted to scold me about spoiling her son then she would have to do battle with my mother to put an end to it. She immediately took his hand and led him into her kitchen for a treat.

Mareke and I moved into the little sitting room, but she stopped in her tracks when she looked up at the mantle. My mother had one painting and it was a portrait of my brother. It had been painted when he had been appointed as the highest general in the Haradrim army.

Jibran was striking. His long, dark hair was pulled away from his face and even in the painting it was obvious that he had been a force of nature. His arms were folded over his chest and every muscle was visible. The blood red sash around his waist denoted his rank and the color itself was striking.

Sitting next to the portrait was an urn. Both items had been in Mareke's possession before she had left for Minas Tirith, but it would have been inappropriate for her to take them with to meet her new husband and so she had left them in my mother's care.

"Will you be alright?" I asked, squeezing her upper arm in my large hand.

She nodded without a word. I knew not to intrude on her private time with her first husband and so I made my way to the kitchen as well.

Adnan sat at the rough hewn table eating another cinnamon cake happily, chattering on to my mother about his life in Minas Tirith.

More than anything I hated that my nephew was being raised so far away from his home and heritage. It was unfair to him.

From where I stood in the kitchen, I only had to lean back a bit to get a glimpse of Mareke kneeling on the living room floor, staring up at the portrait of her husband. Her hands were folded in her lap and she was motionless except for the tears that rolled silently down her cheeks.

She stayed that way for hours. Adnan had somehow known that he should not disturb his mother. I did my best to keep him occupied and eventually he fell asleep on my lap at the kitchen table, after stuffing himself with cakes.

"Poor boy," my mother muttered as she bustled around the kitchen, looking over her shoulder at her sleeping grandson.

"Perhaps he could stay in Harad now," I mused aloud. "I hate to think of him in Minas Tirith under the pale King's tutelage."

My mother looked at me sharply. "You would separate him from his mother?"

I began to speak, but she cut me off.

"Do not even suggest such a thing to Mareke. You would absolutely break her heart. That child is all she has left."

I sighed. "Alright, mother, alright."

"He will still be Haradrim," she said more gently. "How could he not be?"

I rested my chin on my nephew's head and wrapped my arms loosely around him.

Another hour passed and Mareke stepped into the doorway of the kitchen. "I am ready to return."

I stood and nodded. Adnan woke and scrambled down, latching onto his mother's hand.

"Come back whenever you can, Mareke." My mother hugged her once more. "You are always welcome."

Mareke did not draw her son's attention to the portrait of his father. He had been less than two when he had passed and now he was almost five. He was still too young to understand it all, but I had complete faith that when the time came Mareke would tell him everything there was to know about his father. I only hoped she would ask me to help.

"How about a mumak ride tomorrow?" I asked Adnan as he skipped between Mareke and I through the streets back to the palace.

"Really?" He asked, wide eyed.

"Well of course. You cannot visit without one."

The boy was bursting with excitement, as was I.

"Can Strider come?" He asked his mother.

"Strider?" I asked, confused.

"The King," Mareke replied. "It is what he allows Adnan to call him." She turned back to her son. "You can surely invite him."

My blood was boiling again. I could not escape the man. He was a pale shadow constantly looming over me.

Mareke did not meet my gaze as I stared at her over Adnan.

"And Legolas and Gimli! I can teach them something!"

I groaned inwardly. The whole strange group the King had brought with him would be with me, when I only wanted to spend time with Mareke and Adnan.

Adnan went bounding through the palace and back to Mareke's rooms. Luckily for him, the King was sitting on one of the low sofas in the sitting room, perusing a very old scroll.

He groaned theatrically as Adnan crashed into him. "You are going to hurt me one of these days," he said with a grin.

I could only hope that he might be hurt.

"Guess what, Strider!" He exclaimed, sitting on the man's lap and staring at him intently.

"What Adnan?" He asked, taking the boy's small hands in his.

"Tomorrow we are going for a mumak ride!"

"You do not say," the King replied.

I was practically biting my tongue off to refrain from deterring the King from joining us.

"Would you like to come with us?" Adnan asked.

"I have never been on a mumak."

"Then you have to come," Mareke said with a gentle smile.

The King looked up at her, instead of Adnan. "How could I say no?"

The look between the two of them made me want to storm from the room. How could she feel any sort of tenderness for the man who had not wanted her, did not appreciate her, and only the night before realized that she could be so much more than what she had been allowed to be in his White City.

ooooOoooo

In the morning, Mareke led the entire misfit band from Minas Tirith outside of the city where I had brought the mumak I had worked with since it's infancy. He was not quite full grown, nor was he battle tested, but he was gentle and patient and was perfect for a leisurely ride through the desert.

"I do not know about this, lass," the Dwarf said, looking up at the mumak and then at Mareke.

"You will be fine, Gimli," she said gently.

"I did not realize you were bringing such a large group," I said to her.

"Yes you did. Adnan insisted yesterday and I know there is plenty of room."

"Very well," I shrugged.

Giving a low whistle, the animal dropped to its knees and the ground beneath our feet shook.

The canopied structure on its back was tied securely around the mumak and a rope ladder hung off the side so that everyone could get inside.

"I will go up first," I said. "Do you want me to take that?" I nodded at the basket of food she carried.

"No, just him," she pulled Adnan to her. I turned around so my back was to her. We had had a routine for these rides before I had been sent away from the city.

Mareke lifted Adnan up and he latched onto my back, legs gripping my waist and hands holding my shoulders.

"Hold on tight," she warned him.

I reached for the ladder and climbed up, Adnan hanging on without any problem. When we reached the top, I helped him over the railing of the structure and followed him.

The Dwarf followed and by the time he reached the top he was huffing and puffing. Though I did not want to, I helped him into the shaded structure on the mumak's back. The Elf was up before I turned around as though it were the easiest thing he had ever done.

My nephew was too excited to have them with us. I looked over the edge and could hear Mareke bidding the King to go ahead of her. I stepped away from the edge of the structure as he came up, not offering him any assistance.

Mareke readjusted her basket and climbed up as well. She was wearing a light blue ensemble similar to the skirts she would normally wear at home, but with pants instead. They were tight at her waist and around her ankles and allowed her to move more freely.

She was out of breath when she got to the top. "I have not done that in forever," she laughed.

I smiled at her and reached for her, completely blocking the King with my back so that he could not get to her. I took the basket and set it down, before grasping her arm and guiding her over the edge, my hand on the small of her back.

"You are a natural," I said. Mareke told everyone to take a seat. She sat next to me and Adnan was on my other side, the other three behind us.

I whistled once more and the mumak rose to its feet. We all swayed back and forth as the huge animal took its first lumbering steps.

The Dwarf gave a cry of alarm and the Elf chuckled.

"If you breathe a word of this to anyone," the Dwarf said gruffly, "it will not go well for you, you pointy eared princeling."

"Where are we going?" Adnan asked eagerly.

"Where would you like to go?" I returned.

"The trees!" He exclaimed.

There was the strangest thing in the middle of the desert. It had been explained to me, but I preferred to think of it as a mystery. There was a small grove of trees that surrounded a crystal, clear pool. It was not man made. Someone much more intelligent than myself had told me that it was due to water running underground and pooling in that spot which allowed the vegetation to grow there.

"Sounds like a perfect spot for lunch," Mareke said.

We rode for nearly an hour. I tried to keep Mareke's attention on me and she complied easily enough. She turned around a couple of times to make sure that her guests were doing alright, but for the most part she spoke to me.

I told her of all of the things she had missed while she had been gone; who had married whom, who was moving up in her father's government and military.

"You in particular," she said, rubbing the red sash I wore around my waist between her fingers.

I laughed. "I suppose so

"Well how could you not?"

"I was trained by the best," I agreed. "And I only survived that training because of your gentleness and compassion."

"Your brother could sometimes be harsh," she agreed. It was the first time she had spoken of him since commenting on how similar I looked to him.

"If he had not been, our army might have returned in even worse shape."

Mareke stiffened next to me and I could have kicked myself.

"That was careless to say," I whispered. I had been complying with her wishes and speaking so everyone could understand, though no one else was a part of that conversation.

"No harm done," she said too cheerily.

We lapsed into silence until the grove of trees became visible.

"Look, Adnan," I said, pulling him onto my lap. "There is your spot. Do you think you can lead us there?" I asked, offering him the ropes that attached to the tusks of the mumak.

He looked up at me with wide eyes.

"I will help," I offered, covering his small hands on the ropes with my own.

Once or twice he jerked his hands and the mumak veered off course, but I merely laughed and steered us back in the right direction.

We stopped outside of the trees and when the mumak was back on its knees we clambered out and made our way to the pool.

Mareke spread out a blanket for everyone and sat, pulling Adnan between her legs.

It was a strained silence as we ate. I did not want to speak to her guests and they did not seem to want to speak to me either.

The King pulled fruit from the basket when we were through with the bread and cheese. He handed Mareke a blood orange, but she shook her head.

"She hates those," I said, looking directly at the pale King. "Surely you know that. You are her husband."

His cheeks actually flushed.

"Baran," Mareke said. "The King does not have these in Gondor."

"An honest mistake then," I replied, still looking directly into the man's gray eyes. "Surely you know all of her likes and dislikes."

The rest of the day passed in near silence. We rode back with an idle comment from the Elf here and there or exclamations from Adnan, but other than that it was quiet.

ooooOoooo

The next night I snuck through the hedges that surrounded Mareke's private pool. Only I knew there was a break in the hidden fence that ran through them. As I suspected, she was sitting on the edge of the pool with her legs dangling in it. That had been her usual routine before going to bed. Luckily, the King was not with her.

"Why am I not surprised that you are emerging from the plants?" She asked with a small smile.

I sat down next to her. "Perhaps because you have seen it before?"

"Perhaps," she agreed, rippling the water with her feet.

"I missed you," I said, after a moment of silence. My fingers stroked the soft skin of her upper arm.

"As did I," she said without looking at me.

I took her chin in my hands and turned her so I could see her eyes. I leaned into her and my lips met hers. My hands went to her waist and pulled her closer to me.

"I have missed this," I murmured against her plump lips. "I have missed the feel of you." I tangled my fingers in her curls and gripped hard. Just before lying her back on the tiles I looked up to see a pair of gray eyes watching me from her bedroom.

There you go! I hope you loved it! I adore all of you for your kind reviews and the follows and favorites! They really do mean so much to me! I hope to hear from you with your thoughts after this update.

Happy reading,

Avonmora