Faramir heard Arwen’s gasp dimly, and his legs carried him backwards for a step or two. The back of his knees met the edge of the Steward’s Chair, and he sat down heavily in it, still reeling from the news that Borlas had just delivered. He wanted nothing more than to leap up and ride for Ithilien in that very instant, but he knew that there was, at that moment, nothing he could do there. And his duty was to stay in Minas Tirith and rule in the place of the King until Aragorn returned from Harad. That thought penetrated the fog in his mind, and he stared at Borlas, who knelt on the floor before him.

"Harad. You said these kidnappers were soldiers of Harad?"

"That is what my father told me," Borlas said miserably. "I did not take notice of their armor, my Lord. I was trying to get Elboron away." His face screwed up, as though he were trying desperately not to cry, and he began to shake. Doronrîn crouched down and laid a calming hand on the boy’s shoulder. Ioreth pursed her lips at Faramir.

"Saving your pardon, Lord Faramir," she said, "but this boy has had enough. He is wounded, and sick from his ride here. I wager you have learned all you will get from him tonight. He should see a healer and have his wounds treated, and then he should be put straight to bed."

Faramir nodded, still dazed. "Of course, Mistress Ioreth. Please see to it that he is seen by a healer."

"He will need somewhere to stay," Arwen said. "We cannot send him riding back to Ithilien immediately."

Ioreth drew herself up proudly. "I have already made arrangements for that, my Lady. When we found him in the street, I sent his brother, Bergil, to rouse up Iorlas. He is their uncle, you know, young Beregond’s small brother."

"Good," Faramir said. "That was well done." He took a deep breath and rose from his chair. After sending a page to summon an escort to the Houses of Healing, he knelt down in front of Borlas and took the boy’s hands in his. "Thank you, Borlas," he said. "Your father set you a difficult task, and you did well."

"I did not save Elboron," Borlas said. "I tried, but the rider came up behind me so fast —"

"You have now learned a lesson about warfare. A soldier on horseback always has the advantage over a foot soldier. Especially when the foot soldier is sixteen years old and has not even sworn himself to the service of Gondor." Faramir made the effort to smile at Borlas. "You were brave enough not to abandon Elboron in the middle of a battle, and I am ever grateful that my son has such a loyal friend. You have done well this day, Borlas, and now you shall have a soldier’s reward."

Borlas managed to look curious even through his pain and exhaustion. "What is that?"

Faramir laughed. "A clean bed and someone to look after you. To a seasoned campaigner, that is a great deal to be thankful for." Borlas cracked a little smile just as two footmen appeared at the door. Faramir stood and motioned to them. "Please escort this young messenger to the Houses of Healing," he said. "He has earned himself a rest."

The footmen nodded, and one helped Borlas to his feet. They led him out of the throne room. Ioreth started to follow them, then turned back and glanced at Doronrîn.

"Please go on ahead, Mistress Ioreth," Faramir said. "I would have a moment to speak with Lady Doronrîn." Ioreth dropped a stiff curtsey and left. Doronrîn looked expectantly at Faramir.

"What is on your mind, Lord Faramir?" she asked.

"I no longer consider the road back to Ithilien safe," Faramir said without preamble. "If you are bound and determined to go home before I have deemed it safe, I would ask that you accept an armed escort. However, I would prefer that you extend your visit here in Minas Tirith, where your safety on the road might not be called into question at all."

Doronrîn nodded thoughtfully as she considered this request, then turned to Arwen. "Have you aught to say in this matter, Lady Arwen?"

Arwen smiled at her. "I find your presence comforting, the more so in light of this news from Ithilien. I would appreciate having you at my side for your companionship and for your expertise in the matter of rearing children, especially in a hostile world."

"I see." Doronrîn dipped her head gracefully. "Mistress Ioreth has also requested that I prolong my sojourn in this city for the purpose of instructing her apprentices in the arts of midwifery. Faced with three such eloquent arguments, I suppose that I must agree. I will remain in Minas Tirith as long as there are those who would have me."

Arwen's smile broadened. "There is always a room for you in the Citadel," she said. "And I am sure that Mistress Ioreth has been arranging quarters as well. You may find yourself having to pick and choose offers of hospitality."

"I am most grateful, Lady." Doronrîn curtsied deeply and left the room.

"Very well," Faramir said. "That is dealt with. Now I must return to the problem at hand, the assault upon Emyn Arnen." He walked a few steps, trying to calm the shaking in his limbs.

"The King must be warned," Arwen said. "Especially if the attackers were in fact from Harad. He has Andúril with him, but he is only one Man, after all."

"I agree. I will send the fastest messenger in the stable to Poros before the evening grows much older." Faramir realized that he was pacing and stood still. He glanced at Arwen, and a thought crossed his mind. "You said 'if the attackers were in fact from Harad.' Do you have cause to doubt Beregond's message?"

Arwen frowned. "I do not know. It did not seem right. I would have guessed that Haradrim would attack from the south, yet these appear to have attacked from the north. I do not understand that."

Faramir blew out a long, frustrated breath. "That is a good point, my Lady," he said. "And it leaves me with two equally unpleasant options. Either the attackers wanted us to think they were Haradrim, possibly to disrupt the trading conference, or they were in fact Haradrim, and Harad's power has spread so far that it can present a threat to Ithilien from the north."

"I do not know which of those options is worse," Arwen admitted, lacing her fingers tightly together. Faramir flashed what was meant to be a reassuring smile at her.

"I do not know, either. But I do know that Gondor will not face this problem alone. I am going to send that messenger to the King now, and then I will order that the beacons be lit to summon Éomer King, for this matter concerns him as well. They have stolen his sister, his niece, and his nephew, after all."

"And you do not wish to face his wrath should he discover that you did not call him?" Arwen said cheekily. Faramir made an effort to laugh at that. Arwen's expression softened, and she embraced her friend. "I am sorry about the assault on your family, Faramir," she said. "If there is aught I can do to ease your worry, tell me."

Faramir gave the Queen a real smile this time. "You can stay at my side and whisper cool reason into my ear," he said. "And keep Ninniach close. It seems that high-born children are no longer safe in their homelands these days."

"My Lord!" a runner called. "A messenger arrives from Emyn Arnen. He says it is urgent and he must speak with you immediately."

Legolas set down his fishing pole and looked ruefully at Neldorín, then at the runner. "Send him here," he said. "Neldorín, you should go on ahead. I will join you at the brook when I am finished here."

Neldorín shrugged. "I understand, my Lord," he said. "I will try to save a few fish for you." Legolas laughed, and Neldorín left with his fishing gear. Legolas set his own pole upright in a corner of the entryway and headed for his reception hall. "Show the messenger in," he told the runner.

The Man appeared before him in short order, covered with dust from the road, and sketched a quick bow. "Greetings, Lord Legolas," he said. "I am Damrod of the White Company in Ithilien. Captain Beregond has sent me to bring you news and a warning."

"Oh? What has happened?" Legolas nodded to the runner. "Fetch some water."

Damrod smiled gratefully. "Just past noon today, Lady Éowyn, her children, and some attendants were out berrying just north of the town. They were attacked without warning by riders from the north. One lady was killed, and several more were carried off, along with Éowyn and the small children."

"What?" Legolas blinked several times, not certain he had heard the Man correctly. "Who attacked them?"

"Captain Beregond thinks they were Haradrim, but he cannot imagine why they would attack from the north. He bade me tell you of the attack and warn you to strengthen your guard along the Morgul road."

Legolas frowned. "Did these Haradrim come from Mordor, then?"

"I do not know," Damrod said. "I suppose it is possible. If they attacked us from the north but did not pass through your territory, they must have come along the Morgul road."

Legolas swore and stalked over to the map that hung on the wall. He studied it intensely, willing it to provide answers. The runner appeared with a pitcher of cool water and a cup. Damrod smiled gratefully at him and poured himself a drink. After a few minutes, Legolas turned away from the map.

"Thank you for informing me of this, Damrod," he said. "I will strengthen our guard to the south, as Beregond recommends. Does Emyn Arnen require immediate assistance from the Elves?"

"I think not," Damrod replied. "There is little to be done right now. Beregond sent a messenger to Minas Tirith, and we will wait for Lord Faramir's response."

"I will also send a message to Faramir," Legolas said. "This insult was to the people of Gondor, so I will not undertake a response without his agreement. However, the Elves of Ithilien are at his service in the aftermath of this attack."

"That is kind of you, Lord Legolas," Damrod said. "If it is your wish, I will carry this message myself."

Legolas smiled at him. "Are you not weary from the ride here?"

"This is more important than one weary messenger."

"So be it, then. Nevertheless, you and your horse should rest before setting out again. Go to the kitchens and ask the cooks to find you something to eat. Our grooms will care for your horse in the meantime. I will send for you when the message is ready."

"Thank you, Lord Legolas." Damrod bowed and hurried off in the direction that Legolas indicated. Legolas sent the runner to summon Neldorín from the brook. While he waited for the captain of the guard to arrive, he sat down to write his official message to the Steward of Minas Tirith.

Aragorn paced briskly through the halls of the trade depot, working feeling back into his legs. The morning negotiation session had been long, and he found that he was grateful for a small respite. He turned a corner and came upon Peredur standing in a corner and twisting his torso this way and that. King and counselor smiled ruefully at each other.

"I am not accustomed to sitting in one place for so long at a stretch, my Lord," Peredur said with an apologetic smile. Aragorn matched it with a grimace of his own.

"Nor am I. What say you to a quick tour through the grounds? I would see the Sun at least once today."

"That is an excellent idea, my Lord."

Aragorn walked out onto the porch with Peredur at his side. The sun blazed down hot upon them, and they made for the relative coolness of a grove of palm trees. Aragorn closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of baking ground mingled with living plant.

"I wonder who they are," Peredur said abstractedly.

Aragorn opened his eyes and saw Peredur squinting at a company of riders who had entered Ghayur's camp. They appeared to be resting easily as if they were among friends. Curious, Aragorn began to walk toward the Haradric camp. Peredur fell into step at his side. They had covered half the distance when Lord Ghayur emerged from the shaded veranda of the trade depot.

"Ah, most eminent Lords of Gondor!" he called. "You have also elected to partake of the free air and view the full glory of this excellent day."

Aragorn raised his eyebrows. "I do not know that I would describe the day as ‘excellent,’ Lord Ghayur, but I take your point. Perhaps it is fortunate that we have encountered you. We wished to know about that company of riders currently taking up residence in your camp." He indicated the riders with a gesture. Ghayur looked and nodded slowly.

"Your eye is as the eyes of the eagles," he said. "They are a company of horse traders from the far land of Rhûn. Lord Nasir entertains their leader to tea in the haven of his tent."

"What do they discuss at this entertainment?" Aragorn asked, carefully keeping his voice light and conversational. Ghayur smiled a wide smile.

"Simple business of Harad," he said. "For it is truly said that, even as the shifting of the sand takes no account of the wishes of man, so do our petty affairs continue despite the intrusions of great events in our time."

"Pardon me, Lord Ghayur," Peredur said. "You said that these men are horse traders?" Neither Aragorn nor Ghayur missed the suspicion in his voice. Ghayur chuckled appreciatively.

"Our desert steeds are as fleet as though foaled by the wind itself," he said. "Yet we may still desire beasts of different stature and bearing to complement the grace and delicacy of our own."

"That is true, Ghayur," Aragorn said. "But I am constrained to point out once more that Rohan, a true ally of Gondor, has recently been plagued by horse thieves of foreign origin. You have taken great pains to convince me of your innocence in this matter, and now Easterling horse traders appear in your camp. What now shall I believe?"

"The truth is that I have no knowledge of thievery in Rohan," Ghayur said. "What you will believe is your own business. Zmarak of Rhûn is a fair man, and the horses he brings are strong and hardy."

"I would like to see these horses," Peredur muttered. "Perhaps they resemble the steeds of Rohan more than the ponies of the East."

"But as you would be unable to prove their origin, such examination to you would be as a gold necklace cast before a camel," Ghayur said sharply. He turned to Aragorn, and his tone became smooth once again. "But let us not discuss such things while the sun is high and we are yet enjoying our respite from the negotiations. Let us speak of lighter matters. How fares your Queen, the Evening Star? I was sore distressed to learn that she would not attend upon you."

"Arwen Undómiel is well," Aragorn said. "She chose not to attend this meeting of her own volition." Privately, he decided that he did not blame Arwen in the least.

"Ah, of course," Ghayur said. "She now has care of your little Rainbow. A lovely name, and I am certain that the beauty of the child herself eclipses it as the moon does the stars. I believe I have a son by my first wife who is eligible. What say you to a betrothal?"

Aragorn blinked in surprise. "Betrothal? To your son? Lord Ghayur, Ninniach is not yet one year of age."

"The son of whom I speak, the delight of my eye, is but three years," Ghayur said. "When they are grown, it will be as though they are of an age."

Aragorn forced himself to smile politely. "That was not precisely my objection, Ghayur." Just then, a footman rang the bell in the tower of the trade depot, signaling that the negotiations were to resume. "We will discuss this in more detail later," Aragorn said. He nodded to Peredur, and they hurried back to the depot to prepare for further negotiations. In his shock over Ghayur’s suggestion, Aragorn did not notice a young man of noble bearing leaving Nasir’s tent and riding north as if on an errand of some urgency.

Éowyn blinked in the bright sunlight. After several days spent jolting in the cart through the mountains and over a plain with no food and little water, she could barely stand upright, yet she stood as tall as she was able. She was the Princess of Ithilien and a Shieldmaiden of Rohan, and she would retain her dignity to the last. Elboron followed her example, standing straight and silent, clutching Olwyn to his side. Around Éowyn, the three ladies who had been taken with her corralled the other children close to them.

They stared silently at their captors. Now that they were not immediately attacking from horseback, Éowyn saw that they were large, rawboned Men dressed in rude tunics and trousers of linen. They seemed ill at ease in the old Haradric armor they wore and stared suspiciously at their captives. Equally shabby women and children emerged from the doorways of the small, newly built houses that ringed a larger building on top of a hill. They stared at the newcomers with mild interest.

The largest of the strange men moved to plant himself directly in front of Éowyn. His black cloak swirled in the dust at his feet, and he looked Éowyn up and down appreciatively. "I am Thano," he said. "I am Lord of the People of Nurn. We will be your new masters. You are to work for us in our fields. Do not seek to return to the life you once knew. Nurn is your home now. You will make this land bloom as it should."

The ladies gasped and clutched the children close. Several of the older children went pale. Éowyn worked up sufficient moisture in her mouth and spat at Thano. "I am Éowyn," she said. "I am the Princess of Ithilien, and I will suffer no man to make my people common slaves." Elboron stared at his mother, impressed.

Thano stared blankly at her for a moment, and Éowyn wondered if he had comprehended what she had told him. Then a slow smile spread over his face. "Excellent," he said. "You are an asset I had not looked for. You will not be a common slave. You will instead serve to pay a debt I owe. That is a relief." He turned to one of his comrades. "Take the others to the barracks," he ordered. "They will begin work in the morning. We are not like the Orcs. The People of Nurn are merciful."

Éowyn was about to tell Thano exactly what she thought of his mercy when a large man seized her children. She cried out, and Thano grabbed her roughly by the elbow. He walked her up the hill toward the big house. Éowyn twisted around and saw the other men herding the ladies and children away. The man dragging Elboron and Olwyn followed Thano up the hill. Olwyn wiggled her hand free and raced to Éowyn’s side, crying "Mama! Mama!"

Thano regarded her coolly. "That child would make a lovely handmaiden for my Lady when she is grown," he said. Éowyn drew back her foot to kick him and then thought better of it, fearing that he might separate her from both children. Thano grinned at her.

"You see, Princess," he said. "I allow you to keep your children for the time being. The People of Nurn are merciful."

"We will see what my husband and my brother have to say about your mercy," Éowyn said. "Do not underestimate them. They will come for us."

Thano made no answer to that, but jerked her arm roughly. They exchanged no more words as they entered the large house. Éowyn had a brief impression of shabby, imitation finery before they descended to an underground cellar level.

"These are my storage chambers," Thano said. "I keep my treasure here. You will stay here as well." He lifted a large ring of keys from a hook on the wall and fumbled with it for a moment before selecting one. He opened a crooked, warped door and shoved Éowyn into the tiny, dark room beyond. Elboron and Olwyn followed quickly. Éowyn lunged at the door in a last, desperate attempt, but Thano shut it in her face. Éowyn heard the rattle of keys, and then she was trapped in a small cell lit only by dim flickers of light filtering through the cracks in the door. Olwyn whimpered, and Éowyn clutched her children to her, trying to swallow the beginnings of panic.