"Welcome, Lady Doronrîn!" Aragorn shouted over the noise of Ninniach’s piercing screams. "It is a pleasure to see you once more!"

"My thanks, King Elessar!" Doronrîn shouted back, dropping an elegant curtsey. "I bear gifts and a message from my Lord Legolas as well!" Swiftly, she knelt down and opened her pack. Arwen, by dint of much bouncing, petting, and soothing words, managed to calm Ninniach.

"Look," she said. "Lady Doronrîn is taking something out of her pack. Is that not interesting?"

Ninniach had recently learned about insides and outsides, and the fascinating notion that an object could be taken out of a container and put inside again. She loved to play with little wooden pots and blocks, putting the blocks into the pots and taking them out again. Now she saw that the strange person in the throne room was about to take something out of a bag, and that was an event well worth watching, especially since her mother held her close and safe. So Ninniach stopped screaming, snuggled close to Arwen, and stared at Doronrîn. Doronrîn took two more bottles of wine and a letter from her pack and presented them to Aragorn.

"This is wonderful," Aragorn said, much more quietly than before. "My thanks to you and to Legolas. Your vineyards appear to be improving rapidly."

"Indeed," Doronrîn said, with just a trace of smugness in her voice. "We have begun to send our wine north to Eryn Lasgalen, and I am told that folk there believe it will soon be a worthy competitor to the Dorwinion wines."

"In that case, the gift is especially welcome," Aragorn laughed. "We will serve this at dinner tonight. You will join us, I hope?"

"Gladly. My thanks."

Aragorn extended his arm to Arwen and Ninniach. "Our little Rainbow seems to have quieted enough to greet you as well." Ninniach burrowed a little closer into Arwen's shoulder. Arwen, her arms full of baby, nodded a simple greeting.

"I do apologize for my daughter's behavior. Ordinarily, she is very well mannered and friendly when she meets strangers. I cannot think what has come over her."

Doronrîn nodded. "I can. It is no cause for shame; rather, it is a sign that your daughter is quite intelligent." She turned her attention to Ninniach, and her voice became lighter. "Hello, little one. You have grown big and strong since last I saw you, and I am glad of that."

"This is Lady Doronrîn," Arwen said. "You need not fear her. She caught you when you were born, and she is a very kind lady." Ninniach put two fingers in her mouth and sucked them thoughtfully while contemplating Doronrîn.

"I think that she has just learned who her Nana and Ada are," Doronrîn said. "And she has also learned that there are people who are not Nana and Ada. And that is a frightening new thought. She will outgrow her fear as she meets more new people."

Arwen gave a relieved smile. Aragorn blinked in surprise. "I had not considered that," he said. "I had assumed that she already knew us from the time she was born."

Ninniach had accepted the presence of a strange person in her world, and now began to fuss and push at Arwen’s chest. Arwen chuckled. "I think you are hungry, baby," she said. "Is Nana’s little girl hungry? Is Nana’s little girl starving for her dinner?"

"Once, she was the dignified daughter of Lord Elrond, the Evenstar of her people," Aragorn said. Doronrîn favored him with a little smile.

"That, too, is an expected effect of motherhood. I behaved that way myself when my children were small."

"Come," Arwen said. "Let us go to the kitchens and see if there is any porridge for Nana’s hungry little baby. We have started feeding her a little porridge at mealtimes in addition to her nursing. Mistress Ioreth thought that it was time." Doronrîn nodded.

"Very likely. I would be intrigued to see what children receive for their first food in the world of Men."

She curtsied once more to Aragorn, then left the throne room with Arwen and Ninniach. Aragorn summoned a page to take the bottles of Elvish wine to the kitchens with orders that a bottle be opened at dinner that evening. Then he set off for a small side chamber where Lords Peredur and Húrin waited to plan details of the royal journey to Poros.

"Stop!" Fréadric shouted. "Stop in the name of the King!" His éored thundered across the plain, in hot pursuit of a band of thieves. They had murdered a small freeholder who kept a herd of horses in pastures along the Entwash, and were currently driving those horses eastward towards the borders of Rohan. Fréadric's éored had passed by the area too late to prevent the murder, but they could at least make the attempt to fulfill Éomer King's orders and capture the horse thieves who had plagued Rohan recently.

Fréadric rode hard. He was sure that the éored was gaining on the thieves. The éored was under tight discipline, after all, and the thieves were attempting to control a herd of terrified, riderless horses. He shouted out again for them to stop, but they only leaned lower over their own horses' necks and spurred them to even greater speed.

Something sparkled on the horizon, and Fréadric saw that it was a river. They were approaching the Entwash delta, Rohan's eastern border. The countryside of the delta was damp and treacherous, full of tall grasses in which men and even horses could hide, and great swamps, concealed in the grass until an unlucky horse and rider stumbled into one. The thieves headed for the river, clearly intending to swim the stolen horses across it and escape into the shelter of the delta's swampland.

Fréadric knew he had a decision approaching rapidly. Once he crossed the river, he would be in Gondor's territory. He was fairly sure that relations between Gondor and Rohan were such that he could continue the pursuit unhindered, but he was not certain if the local lord would know that. And he was less than confident in his ability to lead a full éored of armed riders through treacherous, swampy ground searching for an enemy who had already proved swift, maneuverable, and deadly.

The thieves had reached the river, and were driving the stolen horses into it quickly. Fréadric's own horse shuddered beneath him, and he realized that the éored's strength was waning after a long, hot day on patrol followed by a hard chase. If he tried to make his horses swim the river, he could not guarantee that they would not exhaust themselves and drown. Reluctantly, he raised his spear and wheeled around, bringing the éored to a halt. The horses shivered and blew, and the Riders began to walk them slowly to cool them.

The last of the stolen horses climbed out of the river on the opposite bank. The thieves risked a look behind. Realizing that the Rohirrim would not follow them, they vanished into the tall marsh grass. Fréadric swore, then turned the éored and began to lead them westward.

"I will not ride my horses and my men to their deaths," he grumbled to his second-in-command. "I will send word to Éomer King that more soldiers are necessary to keep this area safe. The raids come more often, and there are not enough of us to hold the entire territory."

His second-in-command nodded, but did not speak. With heavy hearts, the Riders made their way westward, to locate the murdered horse farmer's family so that they might give him a proper farewell.

Arwen set a dish of barley porridge to cool while she changed Ninniach's baby napkin and traded her blue linen gown for a meal tabard. "Lady Doronrîn, will you hand me a fresh tabard?" she asked. "They are in the small chest near Ninniach's cradle."

Doronrîn located the tabards, handed one to Arwen, and then examined the porridge. She tasted a drop from her finger and grimaced. "This is terrible. It has no flavor."

Arwen burst out laughing. "That is exactly what my husband said when he tasted it!"

Doronrîn sniffed. "Then he is wise."

Arwen curled up on the window seat, and Doronrîn laid Ninniach in her arms. Ninniach gurgled with anticipation as Arwen began to unlace her bodice. "That is the same porridge my brothers and I were fed when we were infants," Arwen said. "Elrohir located the recipe among Father's old papers and sent it to me. And Ninniach appears to enjoy it well enough."

"All the same, she will soon begin to long for more flavors in her life." Doronrîn thought for a moment, then her face brightened. "I will teach your cooks how to make a tasty pulp from apples; you have them in abundance here."

"Apple pulp," Arwen said, watching as Ninniach began to nurse. "Is that what Wood Elves feed their children?"

"When the trading is good and we have plenty of apples," Doronrîn said. "And soon we will have plenty of our own apples. Even before we moved to Ithilien, Lord Legolas encouraged apple seedlings to grow in pots, so that we might take them with us to create our own orchards in this fertile new land. The trees are yet young, but they bear more fruit each year."

"I am not surprised. Legolas loves apples. I think they are his favorite thing to eat." Arwen's smile grew mischievous. "Perhaps that is because he was fed apple pulp as an infant."

"That, and gruel made from nut meal," Doronrîn said. "But all of the babies liked the apple pulp best. It is pleasant indeed to live in a land where food grows quickly and abundantly. Do not waste that good fortune."

"I will not. Will you show the cooks your recipe tomorrow, after you have rested?"

"I will do that."

"Thank you." Arwen lifted Ninniach up for her second course. "Barley porridge today, apple pulp tomorrow. I am glad that you are here, Lady Doronrîn. My husband will be leaving for Poros soon, and it would gladden my heart to have a companion. Will you stay in Minas Tirith for a while?"

"You are not the first person to suggest that," Doronrîn said. "Éowyn hinted that Mistress Ioreth might value my presence as well."

"Éowyn is a wise woman," Arwen replied, spooning porridge into Ninniach's mouth. "I have learned over the years that her advice can be well worth heeding. I am afraid that you have made friends in Minas Tirith, Doronrîn, and now they wish to visit with you."

Doronrîn smiled. "Very well. I will stay for a time. Tomorrow, after I have taught the cooks to make apple pulp, I shall call on Mistress Ioreth. My friend," she added.

Thano's usual ride around the community to determine what problems needed attention was different today. He had invited Nasir to accompany him. "We are now allies," he said. "You should know our land." Nasir had quickly agreed, and now rode at his side, his fine-boned mare stepping delicately beside Thano’s trusty old mule. They gazed at fields full of pale, weak crops, and pastures of scrawny livestock tended by equally undernourished children. The children gazed at them dully and without interest as they rode by. Thano’s cheeks burned with shame, but he reminded himself that his people’s lowly condition would soon improve, now that he had accepted Nasir’s offer of assistance.

Nasir reined his horse to a halt and surveyed the landscape. He gazed long and hard at the shimmer on the southern horizon. "What is that?"

"That is Lake Nurnen. We are not far from one of the four rivers which flow from it."

Nasir frowned. "I do not understand. The land is as green and fertile as any oasis in the desert, from which spring dates and figs in abundance. Why then do your people suffer? Why do the crops fail and the children and beasts exist as shades?"

Thano forced himself to sit tall on his mule. "We do not know how to farm," he said. "We were slaves to Orcs once, for many generations. Over the years, we spoiled as much of the crops as we dared. Now we are free men, and the fruits of our labor are ours. But after spoiling so much, we have forgotten how to grow things." He clenched his jaw, unwilling to show his shame in such an admission.

However, Nasir seemed to understand. "The courage of a man admitting his need for help is as the dew sparkling in the sun. I and my followers will assist you and your folk. We will teach you how to enjoy the fruits of your freedom."

"My folk?" Thano gave Nasir a sidelong glance. Nasir merely smiled.

"You are their lord, are you not? You are wise and clever, and you see with a piercing eye what ails your land and what you must do to remedy that ailment. You are a Lord of Men, Thano, though you do not yet fully know that. You are the Lord of the People of Nurn."

"If I am a Lord, what are you?"

Nasir twitched, as he always did when Thano asked him something direct and personal. An instant later, his implacable mask was back in place. "An emissary. An emissary come from the court of my Calif, may his name endure forever."

Thano nodded. "If I am a Lord, then Wen is my Lady."

"I do not understand. Who is Wen?"

"Wen is the woman. My woman. From last night. Wen is she who will be as noble as the Elf of Gondor."

"Ah. The jewel of your eye and the delight of the land."

Thano wondered if Nasir was mocking him, but the emissary seemed to have spoken in perfect earnest. He turned his mule’s head away from the sight of the failing crops and dying beasts and set off for his home. "If I am a Lord, and Wen is a Lady," he said after some time, "should we not have a fairer dwelling place? My house was once an Orc-barrack, and the stench of the vile creatures still lingers."

Nasir pointed to a decayed, yet still elegant, stone structure on a ridge overlooking the settlement. "What is that place?"

"That was the Overseer’s house."

"Does he still dwell there?"

Thano gave a harsh, barking laugh. "We drove him out along with the Orcs who tormented us."

"Then why should it not become the abode of the victorious Lord of the People of Nurn and his beloved Lady?"

Thano did not answer immediately. He reined the mule to a halt and stared thoughtfully at the stone structure. "It would not stink of Orc. It is a house such as a free man ought to dwell in."

Nasir gave an approving nod. "The trappings of freedom already settle about your mighty shoulders, Lord Thano of Nurn. Do not fear to claim the privileges of your exalted status. Your abode shall be a place of feasting and glory, where those of your household are cared for, their every need fulfilled by willing and obedient servants."

Thano looked again at the house on the hill. He imagined torches blazing in every window, abundant food on the tables, and himself and Wen seated on high, entertaining guests, served quickly and efficiently by humble, obedient hands. If that was the true meaning of freedom, then it was a more attractive prospect than Thano had anticipated, and a goal worthy of his effort.

Hidden in a tree, Neldorín of Ithilien watched as a small band of Men drove a herd of horses through the northern edge of the Elves’ territory. He guessed that they were among the thieves of whom Legolas had spoken, who had been plaguing Rohan. Neldorín’s immediate instinct was to whistle for the other members of his border patrol and intercept the horse thieves, but Legolas had been specific in his orders. Neldorín was to observe the first band of horse thieves he saw, and then describe their appearance and demeanor, as well as the route they took through North Ithilien.

So Neldorín and his company faithfully trailed the thieves as they galloped eastward through the countryside, veering north as they approached the boundaries of the Nindalf marshlands. Neldorín committed as many details of their appearance as possible to memory, particularly their armor, which was of a sort he had never before seen. After the thieves had passed through the Elves’ territory, Neldorín mounted his own horse and rode swiftly to the settlement.

He arrived in the afternoon of the next day to find Legolas sorting through the day’s pick of strawberries. At the sound of hooves, Legolas looked up and nodded a greeting to the captain of his guard. "Welcome, Neldorín," he said. "You return from patrol early and alone. Does this mean that you have news for me?"

Neldorín dismounted and bowed low. "It does, my Lord." He described the band of horse thieves, from the tops of their oddly shaped helmets to the strange mixture of yellow metal and drapery that was their armor. "They drove the horses northeast," he said. "They appeared to be heading in the direction of Dagorlad."

Legolas frowned as he considered Neldorín’s report. "Perhaps they hail from one of the eastern lands of Men. Your description of their dress is familiar, but I cannot place it. Perhaps if I saw these thieves myself I would remember the source of the armor."

He finished sorting the strawberries, walked to a small well, and drew a bucket of water to wash his hands. "I cannot identify them," he said, "but perhaps others can. Neldorín, please write out four copies of your description. We will keep one copy, and I will send the others to Éomer, Aragorn and Faramir. Perhaps they might find it helpful. After you have done that, you may take a day’s leave for your pains."

Neldorín grinned. "Thank you, my Lord," he said. Legolas filled a small basket with strawberries.

"Take these to your wife and son with my greetings. Bring me three copies of your description in the morning, and I will have messengers ready to ride out."

"I will do so, my Lord." Neldorín accepted the strawberries, bowed, and hurried off.

Legolas summoned his three swiftest riders and bade them prepare to ride out the next morning. Then he sent pages to the rest of the community to announce that dispatches would go out to Gondor and Rohan. Anyone who wished to send a message to either of those lands should prepare it promptly and leave it by the door of the messengers’ stable by dawn. After he had given these orders, Legolas withdrew to his private study and wrote a letter to Gimli in Aglarond, sharing all the news of the settlement with his friend.