Nasir and his companion helped Thano and Wen to move their meager household into the Overseer’s home, for which Thano was grateful. Wen and the other women carried the bedding upstairs to portion out the sleeping rooms, while Nasir accompanied Thano to explore the lower levels of the house. They found two cellar levels, each divided into a series of small storage chambers. The doors were locked, but Thano found a ring of rusty keys lying in a wall niche where a servant of the Overseer had abandoned them years before. Thano tried one key after another in the lock on the first door until he found the one that fit. The hinges screamed as he pulled the door open, and a rush of musty air flowed out.

Nasir brought his torch closer, and by its light they saw an assortment of ancient harnesses and battle standards. Thano smiled when he saw them. "Now we have harness," he said. "We can put our beasts to work in our fields. And we can turn these flags into clothing and warm blankets."

"Do not plan so hastily, Lord of Nurn," Nasir said. "You have yet to uncover the treasures concealed in these other chambers. Perhaps you will find clothing and jewels ready to adorn your most august person. You will have need of flags and standards before long."

They moved on to the next chamber, which did indeed contain a chest of gold ingots. Further chambers held silks, spices, and perfumes. Many of these had rotted away from long storage in damp underground vaults, but some of the silks were whole, and a few tantalizing scents still clung to the unguent jars. One chamber contained rusty armor and a rack of swords. Nasir’s companion darted forward, selected a sword from the rack and examined it.

"Its edge is dull and dimmed by rust, but this is a fine desert sword," he announced. "The armor and weapons in this chamber should be cleaned, that they may once again serve their masters in glory."

Thano snorted. "Weapons and armor will not help us farm," he said.

"But they are powerful servants when they are needed," the man countered. "And even as a father cares for all his children besides his heir, so too should a lord maintain all the tools at his disposal."

Thano turned to Nasir. "Tell me," he said. "Who is your companion who speaks so rarely, but who now rattles on in praise of these old weapons?"

Nasir smiled. "Did I not introduce him to you before? His name is Haytham. He is a prince of a noble lineage in the land of my Calif, and he honors me by deigning to be my boon companion on my wandering."

Haytham bowed. "Lord Nasir is wise in the ways of Men, and it is my privilege to travel at his side, that I may see, hear, and learn."

"Then, since we are both students, let us ask the teacher," Thano said. "What say you, Nasir? Will I have use for armor and weapons?"

"I have traveled far in the sunlit lands," Nasir said. "Many strange and wondrous folk have I seen. Further, I have studied in the libraries of the Calif, may they never grow smaller, and I have learned the histories of the glorious lords of old who came from over the seas to our lands. In all my study and in all my travel, I have never yet heard tell of a lord who did not maintain a mighty army against time of war."

"The wise man keeps and maintains that which he does not presently require, so that in time of requirement, he need not lament the lack of that which he needs," Haytham added.

Thano considered their words. "Very well," he said. "I will clean the armor and the weapons after I have seen to the other wealth in this house. But this will take time, and I do not know when I will come to this job."

"You need not do it yourself," Nasir said. "Such a task may well be entrusted to servants, whose delight is in pleasing their lord."

Thano glanced sharply at him. Nasir traded a look with Haytham. For a moment, no one spoke. The two visitors saw a new thought take shape behind Thano’s eyes, and they gave it time to implant itself and begin to grow.

"A lord has servants," Thano said at last. "I had forgotten that. There is much that I must yet remember. But I remember that now. A lord has servants."

"Their pleasure is in attending to their lord," Haytham said, "and their reward is his protection. That is your task, Lord Thano. You will be as a father to your people, giving them shelter from the storms which will blow over the land, even as they offer you the gifts of their love and labor in return." He seemed to remember that he still held the sword he had taken, and pressed it into Thano’s hand.

Thano stared at the blade, entranced. He held it out and tested its weight, beginning to learn the feel of it in his hand. His eyes turned inward, and he seemed to retreat within himself as he contemplated all that he had heard and seen that day. Nasir nodded to Haytham, and they withdrew quietly, leaving Thano alone with his newfound riches and the ideas stirring in his mind.

Aragorn sorted through the papers on his desk one last time. He had nearly completed the preparations for his long journey to Poros. He had written out orders deputizing his chosen proxy lords to assume their portions of his regular duties during his absence, and he had left instructions as to his will in various minor matters of state that he anticipated would arise during the coming weeks. He had sent a message requesting that Lord Peredur accompany him as his aide, and Peredur had agreed to do so. There remained one last letter to write, and Aragorn was happy to do that. He pulled a fresh sheet of parchment from his desk and wrote out a message to recall the Prince of Ithilien to the Citadel to take up his duties as Steward in the absence of the King.

When he had finished, he sanded the ink, folded and sealed the letter, and summoned a page. "Take this to the message stables," he said. "Have the fastest messenger there carry this to Emyn Arnen and deliver it into the hand of Lord Faramir."

"Yes, my Lord." The page clicked his heels and took the letter away.

Aragorn stretched until his spine crackled. He would miss having Arwen with him, but he found that he was looking forward to traveling again and seeing a portion of his realm that he visited all too rarely. He and Peredur would sail down the Great River to the port of Pelargir before continuing on land to the crossings of Poros. Aragorn smiled, anticipating the pleasure of the sailing, with the cool river breeze in his hair and the gentle rocking of the ship’s deck beneath his feet. He had always enjoyed traveling by boat, and he supposed it was a part of his heritage from Númenor.

Before the river trip, however, he would have the opportunity to enjoy his last few days with Arwen and Ninniach and plan a special dinner to welcome Faramir when he arrived. Aragorn always enjoyed spending time with his Steward, and regretted that their duties often kept them from meeting on a more regular basis.

At midday, Doronrîn set out for the Houses of Healing to call on Ioreth. She was pleased to find that she remembered the route through the maze of stone streets. The buildings of Minas Tirith seemed dreadfully tall and cold, and she looked forward to walking in the gardens in back of the Houses of Healing. She made her way carefully through the streets, trying to ignore the stares and surprised gasps of the citizens upon seeing an Elf in their midst. As she approached the Houses and pulled at the bell rope, she could feel their eyes upon her, and she gave a sigh of relief when the door opened and a young apprentice looked at her.

"I am Doronrîn of Ithilien," she said carefully in the Common Tongue. "Is Mistress Ioreth within? I wish to speak with her."

"I remember you," the apprentice said. "You were here during the Queen’s confinement. Oh, Mistress Ioreth’ll be pleased to see you, Lady. She’s not stopped talking about you since you left. Saving your presence, of course."

Doronrîn sighed. Clearly, this lad was under the tutelage of Mistress Ioreth herself and had picked up more than a few of that good woman’s habits.

"Oh, there I go, forgetting my manners again," the apprentice said. "I do apologize, Lady, but ‘tis not often that we see Elves in the city, and here I am, leaving you out here in the midday sun while I chatter on. Come inside and sit down, and I shall fetch Mistress Ioreth directly."

"Thank you." Doronrîn slipped inside and sank down on a bench, grateful for the door that shut out all of the staring eyes. The apprentice bowed, then scurried off deeper into the compound, crying out for Ioreth.

In a few minutes, Ioreth herself appeared. The creases in her weathered face deepened as she smiled broadly. Doronrîn rose to greet her, clasping the old woman's fragile hands gently.

"Well, I never!" Ioreth said. "If it isn't Lady Doronrîn, large as life! Why, just this morning, I was thinking to myself what a pity it is that you're so far away in Ithilien, for I have missed having you around to talk to. I would hardly have guessed it, since you were always so quiet, but I suppose that it is only when someone is gone that we realize how much they were present. It is good to see you back in our city, Lady, and I do hope that you will stay with us for a while, if it would not be too much of a burden."

Ioreth did look genuinely pleased to see her. With that observation, the stone city suddenly felt slightly warmer. Doronrîn dipped her head and fastened her gaze upon Ioreth's gnarled hands held in her own smooth ones. "If you wish it, I will stay for a little while," she said. "Should you require it, I will assist you in your work. But I must leave before the year is out."

"Well, you are most welcome as long as you care to stay, Lady Doronrîn," Ioreth said. "And I'll not deny that the aid of your hands will be a blessing to me. But I hope that you will not take ill if you are kept confined in the city too long. I would not hold you here against your will."

"Do not worry about that. My reasons for limiting my time in this place are much simpler and more practical than that." Doronrîn raised her eyes, and a tiny note of mischief crept into her voice. "It is merely that I am expecting another grandchild within the year, and I wish to be home in time to oversee the birth."

Ioreth's face turned several different shades of red, and her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. The corners of Doronrîn's mouth quirked into a little half-smile of satisfaction at Ioreth's reaction to that news. After a moment, Ioreth found her voice.

"Fancy that. You, a grandmother. Well, I never. I knew you had borne children, but I had imagined them to be, well, little ones." Ioreth's blush deepened. "Bless me, but you don't seem half old enough to have grown children, let alone . . . you did say 'another' grandchild? More than one?"

Doronrîn nodded. "My daughter's daughter is full grown and lives in our settlement in Ithilien. She is skilled in training horses. Her mother has recently decided that our situation is comfortable enough to bring another child into the world."

"Well. What wonderful news. Congratulations, Lady Doronrîn!" Ioreth beamed at her, then linked her arm confidently through Doronrîn's. "Come. It is clear to me that we have much to discuss. I will call for tea, and we shall sit out in the garden . . . you remember how lovely our garden is, especially at this time of the year . . . and we will discuss the matter of grandchildren, for I would dearly love to know about the dealings the Fair Folk have with their grandchildren."

The prospect of sitting in the garden cheered Doronrîn immensely, and she allowed herself to be steered through the building. "How quickly do the children of Men adapt," she said. "When first we met, you could barely speak to me, and now, it seems, I am as a companion of the heart."

Ioreth's dried-apple face wrinkled some more with her smile. "But we have gotten to know each other since then," she said. "And, after all, we are both grandmothers, and that counts for plenty, among our folk at the least."

"I see." And with that, Doronrîn realized that not only did Ioreth in fact consider her to be a friend, but that sometime over the past year, Ioreth had become her friend as well.

"I play with Papa."

Faramir looked up from the music on the stand in front of him to see his three-year-old daughter Olwyn looking at him with adoring eyes. He smiled at her, and she trotted over to him, remembering just in time that Éowyn had warned her never to touch her Papa's viol. Faramir could not resist the temptation and gently tickled Olwyn's stomach with the bow, just to hear her giggle.

"Play with Papa," she said again. Olwyn had been fascinated by Faramir’s viol ever since she was a little baby, and hearing it could still draw her out of all but the worst tantrums. His daughter’s interest in his music sometimes surprised Faramir, but it cheered him as well, especially since seven-year-old Elboron showed no interest in the art at all.

"Come here, Olwyn," he said. He placed the bow carefully into her hand, then showed her how to move it over the viol’s strings. Olwyn chortled at the noise she produced. As her bow strokes grew bolder, Faramir slowly moved his fingers over the frets, and a simple melody emerged.

"There you are," came Éowyn’s voice from the doorway. "My two musicians. Whenever I lack one, I need only follow the music, and there I will find both." She strode across the room and settled herself on a bench. Olwyn smiled at her.

"I play, Mama."

"I see that, Olwyn," Éowyn said. "You and Papa are playing together."

"I think that she will soon be big enough for an instrument of her own," Faramir said. Éowyn snorted.

"It will be longer than ‘soon,’ Faramir. That viol is still taller than she is. But I did not come to discuss our daughter’s budding musicianship."

"What, then?" Faramir continued to finger the frets.

"I have been thinking about the message we received from Legolas," Éowyn said. "The description of the horse thieves seemed very familiar to me. It has taken several days, but I think I have placed it in my mind. I believe that what the Elvish scout described were Haradrim; at least, they were Haradrim as they appeared eleven years ago on the Pelennor fields."

Faramir looked up, startled. "That cannot be," he said. "How could Haradrim invade Rohan and trouble the northern border of the Elves' colony and we know nothing about it? That is simple geography, Éowyn. Southern Ithilien lies between Harad and the rest of Gondor. Were they truly Haradrim, we would have some notice."

"I avoided thinking of the Haradrim for quite a while after I first read that letter for that very reason," Éowyn shot back. "But as I read this scout's description, the only image that sprang to my mind, time and again, was of a warrior from Harad. I have not forgotten what they looked like."

"I am sure you have not. I simply think that, between this scout's eyes and your memory, something has been lost."

Éowyn shrugged. "Perhaps. In any event, you may discuss it with the King shortly. A messenger arrived from the Citadel late this afternoon. You have been summoned to Minas Tirith to oversee the land while the King is away." She held out the order, neatly rolled and tied. Faramir broke the seal and glanced over it.

"It appears that I will have to leave you for a time," he sighed. "May I leave Emyn Arnen in your capable hands?"

"Of course."

Olwyn stopped sawing the bow across the strings of the viol and turned an expression of shocked disbelief on Faramir. "Papa go away?" Éowyn quickly scooped Olwyn onto her lap.

"Papa must go to Minas Tirith," she said. "But he will come back to us when his business there is finished, and he will bring you a present."

Olwyn's face crumpled, and she began to cry. "No go away Papa!" she wailed. "No go away!" Faramir leaned over and stroked her hair.

"I will return, Olwyn. I promise you that. It is only for a little while that I must be gone."

Olwyn continued to cry. Faramir reached for the bow that she had dropped on the floor and began to play her favorite lullaby. Gradually, Olwyn grew calmer, leaning against Éowyn and snuffling a little.

"Papa must go to visit the Queen for a little while," Éowyn said. "But he is not gone yet, and we will sit and listen to his lovely music until bedtime. We will both miss him, but he will return to play music for us again."

When Thano saw what Wen and the other women had done to the main hall of the Overseer's house, he was stunned into silence. Large swaths of faded, blotchy silk hung over the walls and draped the single long table in the center of the room. The Overseer's large chair had been draped with a woolen blanket with only a few moth holes in it. The table was set with real pewter dishes instead of the crude wooden plates and cups that the People of Nurn made for themselves in the days of freedom. And for a final touch, someone had placed a weapons rack containing the cleanest of the pikes behind the great chair. To Thano's eyes, it seemed a place of fabulous splendor, truly fit for a Lord of Men. A sharp, warm feeling shot through him when he pictured Wen laboring to decorate their new home so fittingly, and he resolved once more to ensure that she became a lady as fine as any queen.

He turned and gestured grandly to Nasir and Haytham, who were to join in the evening meal once again. "Welcome, my Lords," Thano said. "See! At last, the Lord of Nurn is master of a hall where you may be properly entertained."

Nasir and Haytham stared at the decorated hall. Nasir blinked several times as he took in the surroundings. Haytham's mouth opened and shut, but no words came out. Thano smiled, certain that they were as impressed with the place as he was. At last, Nasir found his voice.

"The glory and beauty of this hall are but the most fitting of reflections. How much greater is the glory of its master and the beauty of the Lady who dwells herein!" He nudged Haytham, and both of them bowed low before Thano.

Pleased with Nasir's speech, Thano seated himself in the great chair and indicated that Nasir should sit at his right hand and Haytham at his left. Two of the household women carried a great pot to the table, and Wen followed, carrying a ladle.

"Two roosters fought in the yard today, and one was killed," she said. "I have put its meat in the stew, for today is a day of celebration." With that, she dipped a ladleful of broth with chickpeas and chunks of chicken meat onto each plate. A young girl sliced dark rye bread to soak up the broth. Thano squinted at her.

"You were not part of this household this morning," he said.

"I have come to serve in the house of my Lord," she replied.

"Others have come," Wen put in. "Now that there is a house again, all desire the privilege of working within."

"You see, Lord Thano," Nasir said. "It is as I told you. The delight of the servant is in pleasing the master. You need not fear for the upkeep of your most glorious dwelling."

Thano nodded at the girl. "You may stay." She bobbed her head, and the women withdrew. Thano, Nasir and Haytham began to eat, and Thano decided that the pewter dishes and the chicken meat made the everyday chickpeas and rye bread taste different. Nasir and Haytham ate delicately, and did not touch the bread.

When the meal was over, Nasir bowed deeply to Thano. "You have done well today, o magnificent Lord of Nurn," he said. "My humble companion and I beg the courtesy of one night's hospitality in this great hall, and then we must depart. My Calif will have need of my presence shortly."

"You may stay," Thano said graciously. "My thanks for your aid and assistance. When you see your Calif, you will convey to him greetings from Thano, Lord of Nurn."

"I hear and obey." Nasir retreated soundlessly. Thano sat back in his great chair and began to turn over in his mind the first great problem of his Lordship. All of his people wanted to work in the large house. Thano could not blame them; working in the Overseer's house had been a privilege even before the days of his childhood. He wanted to grant that privilege to as many of his people as he could, but some must stay behind to work the fields. As he considered how best to choose his house servants, he fell asleep, exhausted by the wonders of the day.