It was the arrival of a flotilla of barges from Minas Tirith, packed with supplies and reinforcement, that took Aragorn from Frodo’s side and down into the encampment on the field of Cormallen.

“This exceeds my hopes,” he told Imrahil as they watched the fresh levies disembark. “I am fortunate in my Steward.”

“And in your Queen.” said the Prince. *1

Aragorn laughed. “That I already knew.”

Many of the scouts he’d sent out - his Rangers and Faramir’s - had also returned, some with ill news.

“The Enemy’s creatures have found themselves deep holes to hide in. They must be rooted out but there is no urgency - with their master gone they have no heart to do aught but hide.” Aragorn told the Captains of the West as they sat in council. “Our chief concern must be our deluded fellow Men. Some lord or captain among the Southrons is marshalling the remnants of their army in Ithilien, perhaps contemplating an attack on the City. They must be driven back to their own country.” he smiled at Eomer, seated at his right hand. “It is a job for horsemen. Would you take charge of the matter, Eomer King? Prince Imrahil and his knights together with your riders should be a sufficient force.”

“If such is your wish.” Eomer answered promptly. “I take it we are meant to harry, not to engage in open battle?”

“Exactly.” Aragorn agreed. “Your knights and the Ithilien Rangers together should be enough to persuade the Haradrim a swift return their own country is their wisest course. But I want no more blood shed than is absolutely necessary, for these are Men and our kin. I would wean them from the Shadow and make them our friends.”

Imrahil shook his head ruefully. “I fear you hope for too much, my Lord. Harad and Gondor have been enemies time out of mind.”

“True.” said Aragorn. “But all the fault was not on Harad’s side, the Ship Kings too had much to answer for.” his face turned stern and his voice took on a commanding edge. “Understand me, my Lords of Gondor, I neither seek nor desire an empire of subject peoples. Only that which is Gondor’s by right - Harondor and Umbar - and not one rod of land more.”

Imrahil and the other Captains nodded obediently but still looked doubtful.

“Men can turn from the Shadow, my Lords,” the stranger at their council said quietly from his seat at the King’s left hand. “mine did,” he smiled at Aragorn, “though not without help.”

He was a stocky, fair haired, blue eyed Man - not unlike the Riders of Rohan. But his dress was very different indeed; his short jacket and high boots were richly embellished with glittering medallions of gold. Of gold too were the linked plates of his belt and the wide collar, curiously chased and wrought, around his throat. This was Batrad, chief of the Princes of Rhovanion, descended from both the Northmen and the Wainriders who had conquered them.

“I am glad you have come, Batrad,” Aragorn told him, “I would have your council on our Eastern foes.”

“And I desired to see for myself what force you had at your command.” the glittering prince replied with a smile. “So when you sent for Runa I decided to come too.”

“Runa?” Eomer echoed blankly. “Surely you cannot mean Rune!”

“He does.” said Aragorn. “Rune, as you call him, is an old friend of mine. I desired his help for the Ringbearer.”

Eomer stared. “A friend of yours?” he echoed incredulously.

“Who exactly is this Rune and how do you come to know of him, my Lord of the Mark?” Imrahil asked curiously.

“He is a name from our oldest legends, from the days before our fathers’ fathers came west.” Eomer answered, shaking his head all amazed. “He was a great singer and dwimmer crafty according to the tales. But that he should still walk the world is a great wonder.” he turned to Gandalf. “Is he a wizard then?”

“Not of my order.” the other said, a faint frown drawing his white brows together.

Aragorn set the bulk of his new levies to the task of driving the remnants of the Easterling army back to their own lands. But for a select few he had a grimmer duty; to enter into Mordor itself and throw down its strongholds and fastnesses lest they become refuges for Sauron’s surviving servants. This work he gave to his own Rangers, hardened to horror by long years of secret warfare in the North, and to the grim veterans of the eastern marches among the Gondorian soldiery. To Elladan and Elrohir he gave a special and most terrible task; to enter the twisting labyrinth of Cirith Ungol and destroy Shelob.

“Sam must have wounded her badly,” Aragorn told his brothers by marriage, “There will never be a better time to put an end to her once and for all.”

“We agree.” said Elladan.

***

After the council Aragorn opened and read his letters from both Queen and Steward. Arwen’s made him smile, and sigh as well. She would not come to Cormallen. It was undoubtedly the right answer - and the one he had expected - yet for all that he was disappointed. It would be long before he was free to ride to Minas Tirith and see her again.

In the postscript of her letter Arwen made some reference to the chief matter of Faramir’s, which was no more or less than a detailed and worried description of Gondor’s empty treasury and exhausted credit. The long wars had drained the realm of its wealth and Faramir could see no way of paying for the needs of the army and the rebuilding of the City, but Aragorn could. He sent for Gimli.

The Dwarf entered the King’s tent to find his old friend and companion sitting unattended upon his chair of state. “Gimli son of Gloin, Lord of Erebor,” Aragorn said formally, “the time has at last come when the Dunedain ask return for the help they gave to the People of Durin of Old.”

“And high time too.” Gimli answered less formally. “We Dwarves do not like debts hanging over our heads!” *2

Aragorn smiled at that, then sobered and continued. “I must have gold for the needs of Gondor, a great deal of gold I fear. But I do not ask it as a gift, merely a loan between friends. Gondor was a wealthy Kingdom once and I doubt not will become so again and able to repay you double fold what you now lend us.”

“We would give you all the treasure of Dain as a free gift if you asked it of us, you know that Aragorn Dunadan.” Gimli replied as seriously. “If you will have it only as a loan, so be it. But we will take not one gold piece more than we lend in repayment.”

“And there are those who say the Dwarves are ungenerous!” said Aragorn.

“We can be, it must be admitted we can be at times.” Gimli conceded. “But none will deny that we always pay our debts - and in full with no half measures!”

***

After Gimli left Eomer came, a letter in his hand and a troubled frown upon his face. “Eowyn will not come to Cormallen,” he told Aragorn. “She says she is fully recovered but I don’t know if I can believe her.”

“You can.” the King assured him. “Arwen says the same in her letter to me. Eowyn has left the care of the Healers and is helping my wife set the Citadel in order.”

“But why will she not come to me?” Eomer asked, a little forlornly. “I need to see for myself that she is well again. And all the army would do her honor.”

Aragorn smiled wryly. “I fear the fault is mine, Eomer. You she no doubt wishes to see, but me? It may be long indeed before she is ready to look on my face again.”

“You did no wrong, Aragorn.” the younger Man said earnestly.

“Yet all unwillingly I dealt Eowyn a hurt it may take long to heal.” the King sighed. “At least she is no longer in despair. I hope all will be well with her now.”

“I do not doubt but it will.” Eomer said stoutly. “She just needs a little more time. When I return from harrying the Southrons I will write again. Then she will come, I am sure.”

***

Aragorn spent the night at the camp but the next morning, after bidding farewell to King Eomer and Prince Imrahil and watching them march out at the head of their knights, he returned to the fortress of Cair Andros with Gandalf.

The wizard was deeply perturbed by what Eomer and Batrad had told him about Runa. “Such long life is not natural in a Man. Only those who have dealings with the Shadow live so long.”

“Runa is not a Man,” Aragorn answered calmly, “nor is he darkened by the Shadow - not now.”

“Not now?” Gandalf echoed with a sharp glance.

“He has been deep in Darkness in his time, as deep as Frodo, and found his way out. That is why I thought he could to help our friend.” Aragorn shot the wizard a sidelong glance, glinting with humor. “Never fear, Gandalf, he is one you knew well once - at least by repute.” and he would not say one word more, answering all further questions with a brief; “You will see.”

King and somewhat disgruntled wizard made their way through the winding passages of the fortress towards the small, sunny court where the Ringbearer and his companions could usually be found. They were there now, Aragorn and Gandalf heard Frodo’s voice echo clearly down the corridor:

“- and so poor Sam carried me, upside down and arse foremost, up the mountain to the Cracks of Doom.”

“I beg your leave to alter that description somewhat.” said a deeper, musical voice tinged with amusement.

“All right.” Frodo conceded. “As long as you make it clear that Samwise the Strong carried his fainting master bodily up the mountainside, sick and weary as he was!”

Gandalf had stopped dead in his tracks, one hand closed around Aragorn’s arm like a vise. “Him? I cannot believe it! Where did you find him?”

“In Rhun, on one of my journeys long ago.” the King replied.

The wizard shook his head. “That he should still be alive -”

“Alive but much the worse for wear, as he himself says.” Aragorn interrupted. “He is far from the Elf you remember, Gandalf, aged like a Mortal Man by long years of hardship. And he is blind.”

The wizard flinched. “Blind?”

Aragorn nodded gravely. “For many centuries now. I do not know exactly what happened, he never speaks of it, but it was Sauron’s work - of that much I am sure.”

The voices continued to echo merrily off the stone walls of the passage. Gandalf listened intently. “Frodo sounds better, much better.”

“Yes.” Aragorn agreed. “I thought Tal-argan would help him.” the wizard looked a question. “That is the name he gave to the Hobbits.”

They waited until the Little Folk had left the court, carrying their second breakfast dishes back to the kitchens, that they might have a few moments alone with Tal-argan.

The harpist was sitting as usual on the edge of the fountain, his head turned sharply as they entered. “Aragorn?”

“Yes. And another you may remember.”

Gandalf‘s voice betrayed nothing of the horror and pity clearly visible on his face. “I had both another name and another guise when we saw each other long ago in lost Beleriand. I was Olorin of the Host of the Valar.”

“The healer, servant of Lorien and Este.” Tal-argan said, enlightened, “I do remember.” his face and lightless eyes turned fractionally towards Aragorn. “You were right. Frodo is holding something back, something he is ashamed of.”

The King shook his head. “Whatever it is, it can be of no moment compared to what he has done.”

“It is of great moment to Frodo.“ Tal-argan said sharply. “Aragorn, you do not heal a wounded spirit by telling him he is troubling himself over nothing! Whatever it is it is not ‘nothing‘ in Frodo‘s eyes.”

“I stand reproved.” said Aragorn. “He has not told you what it is?”

“No. Why should he? As he himself said he barely knows me.”

“Yet by his voice his heart is lighter.” said Gandalf. “That is your doing I think.”

“In a small degree.” the harpist shrugged. “I have given him good dreams in place of nightmares. He is sleeping better and putting on flesh. As he gains strength he will be better able to master his trouble.” Tal-argan smiled. “Who knows, perhaps he too will decide it is a matter of no moment. We will see.”

“Have you told Frodo who you are?” Aragorn asked.

“No. And I don’t want you to either, Aragorn. The mystery exercises his wits and gives him something besides his hurts to think on.”

“Yes,” Gandalf agreed. “A distraction is just what Frodo needs now.”

***

Notes:

1. In this AU Arwen rode with the Grey Company and was left as Queen in Minas Tirith. See ‘I have Made My Choice’ and ‘The Steward and the Queen’ by this author (adv.)

2. The ‘debt’ is for the Ranger’s sheltering the women and children of Durin’s race and conveying them to refuge with the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains after Moria was abandoned to the Balrog.

Note: On the Peoples of Rhovanion

The Wainriders were an eastern people who invaded and conquered the Northmen of Rhovanion c. TA 1856 reducing those who did not flee to servitude. A slave rebellion at the same time King Calimehtar’s offensive against the Wainriders, (c. TA 1899) failed and they remained in possession of Rhovanion despite their defeat at Calimehtar’s hands. The Wainrider’s final attack against Gondor was made in TA 1944 in co-ordination with the Haradrim and Khand who attacked from the south. King Ondoher and the northern army were defeated, and he and both his sons killed, but Earnil defeated the Harad on the River Poros and came north to destroy the Wainriders in their camps and they fled back to their own lands. There is no further mention of the Wainriders or Rhovanion in Professor Tolkien’s works. (Canon)

After their crushing defeat by Earnil II the Wainriders retired to lick their wounds in their permanent settlements under the eaves of Mirkwood. Their blood mixed with that of their Northmen slaves and slowly a form of the Northmen’s speech replaced their native tongue. They lived in fear of the Necromancer of Dol Guldur, and hated him for it. When he was driven out a shadow departed from the Rhovanioni, (who were no longer the Wainriders of old) and they were open to the influence of the Blue Wizards and Runa the harpist who had already done much to wean their eastern kin from the Dark Lord. Thengel of Rohan and Aragorn as Thorongil both work to bring the Princes of Rhovanion into alliance with Gondor - and succeed. Had they not the Elves and Men of the Mirkwood would have had more than attacks from Dol Guldur to contend with. The Rhovanioni, like Erebor and Dale, held at bay the hordes of Sauron dominated Easterlings that might otherwise have overwhelmed the West. (Fanon!)