10. Children Of Darkness

Haytham paced the length of the deck, from stern to bow, then turned and paced back again. Arwen watched him warily as she jiggled Ninniach, who fussed and whimpered. The boat moved swiftly down the Anduin, the efforts of the rowers below deck supplemented by the strong current. Arwen shifted Ninniach in her arms and stole a glance at the riverbank. They were close enough to shore that Arwen might have been able to swim the distance had her legs not been weighted with iron shackles and her arms occupied with her daughter.

Haytham paced along the deck again. This time, he stopped directly in front of Arwen and glared down at her. "If you do not find a way to silence that child," he said, "I will throw it overboard."

"You will not touch my daughter!" Arwen snapped. "She cries because she is hungry and wet. I have little milk for her because you have barely fed me. And I have no clean napkins for her because you took us captive. You are the one responsible for Ninniach's distress."

Haytham slapped her sharply. "You will hold your tongue, Elf Queen. I have allowed you to keep the child thus far out of the goodness of my heart. Do not press your fortune, I warn you."

Hearing their argument, Thano left his post at the helm and came to stand at Arwen's side. "Do not threaten the child, Haytham," he said. "I will not allow it."

"You will not allow?" Haytham snorted. "Who are you to allow or not to allow, Thano Lord of the People of the Dust?"

Thano's tone remained calm and reasonable. "I am the owner of a sharp knife given to me by Lord Nasir," he said, "which I will lodge between your ribs if you speak again of harming a child."

Haytham glanced from Thano to Ninniach. "Silence the child, Elf Queen," he said at last. "Her cries drive me to the verge of insanity." He stalked to the bow of the boat and flung himself down on a coil of rope. Thano and Arwen watched him go.

"He is wealthy," Thano told Arwen, "so he is wasteful. He believes children have no value, but he is wrong. I will not permit him to kill the baby."

"Thank you," Arwen said.

"If his Calif does not want her along with you, I will take her with me," Thano went on. "I will train her as a maid for my Lady Wen. The woman of a Lord ought to have a maid. Do you not agree?"

Arwen stared at him, speechless. Receiving no answer, Thano shrugged and returned to the helm.

As the morning sun rose over the dark peaks of the Ephel Duath, a grim company set out northeast along the road from Minas Tirith. Legolas of Ithilien rode at its head, and beside him rode Éothain of Rohan, leading an éored of Riders whose helms shone in the sun. With Legolas also rode Borlas, bearing Faramir's letter to his father Beregond. Borlas had not left the City since he had arrived bearing the news of Éowyn's capture, and Faramir had declared it fitting that he be the one to bear the orders concerning Gondor's response to that event. "Besides," Faramir had told Iorlas, who had been caring for the boy, "there is no safer way to send him home to his father than in the company of armed Men and Elves."

Bringing up the rear of the company were three covered wagons bearing the best chirurgeons and healers to be found in Minas Tirith. A grim-faced Ioreth and the Warden of the Houses of Healing had selected them personally out of the many who had clamored to go along on the expedition. As they had no way of knowing how the captives in Nurn fared, they had brought along a wide selection of supplies, many blankets, and several kegs of fresh water.

The company reached Osgiliath shortly after nightfall, and they made camp in the garrison there. Borlas rode south to Emyn Arnen to deliver the message summoning the White Company, and Neldorín rode north to collect the Elvish militia. While they waited, Legolas ordered that supplies for the journey ahead be gathered from the stock houses in Osgiliath and loaded on the wagons, and then took counsel with Éothain to determine their route from Ithilien.

"We will take the Morgul Road over the Ephel Duath," he said, "as that is the road that our enemy appears to use. There have been many expeditions along that route in recent days, so the trail should not be hard to find."

"For the sharp-eyed Elves, certainly not," Éothain said with a grin. "If your folk will scout the road ahead of us, we will locate these People of Nurn easily."

"Perhaps," Legolas said. "From what the Lady Éowyn was able to tell us, they dwell in the southern portion of Mordor, and that will be a long journey."

"Then let us make as much of it as possible in the shade of the Ephel Duath," Éothain suggested. "They are not called the Mountains of Shadow for nothing."

Legolas studied the map by lantern light. It was old, and drawn primarily from guesswork and preserved tales from the Last Alliance, though there were more recent additions charting the lands that Frodo and Sam had crossed during their Quest. "There appears to be a ridge extending eastward from the Ephel Duath between us and the Sea of Nurn," he said. "That may well prove to be an obstacle."

"We can only hope that there is a pass through that ridge," Éothain said. "If not, then we must go around it. It will add time to our journey, but what cannot be helped must be endured."

Beregond and Neldorín arrived in the early afternoon of the next day with their companies, and on the morning after that, the full assault troop of Men and Elves moved out. Legolas, Éothain, and Beregond rode at the head of the force, and their faces were grim and terrible to behold. For several days, they rode south along the mountains, as Legolas had planned.

When the steep hills of the ridge loomed before them, the company halted, and a small party of Elves went ahead to inspect the ridge. They returned to report that there was a narrow tunnel under the ridge that appeared to lead into an abandoned mine and a low pass over it a day's ride to the east.

"We will save time by going through the tunnel," Éothain said when the three captains took counsel that evening.

"I do not trust an abandoned mineshaft," Beregond countered. "If Lord Gimli were here, he could inspect it and assure us that it is safe and will not collapse and that the air inside is fit to breathe. But he is not here to tell us that."

"Can we take the supply wagons over the pass?" Legolas asked.

"It would not be the swiftest route," Éothain answered, "but we can take them."

"Time is on our side now," Legolas said. "Whether we attack Nurn sooner or later is not important. We will attack them. But when we return, we will have the captives with us, and perhaps wounded from our own companies. We shall have need of swift passage then. I will send a scouting party through the tunnel to see if it offers safe passage and if it is wide enough to accommodate us. For now, we will take the overland route, but we may use the tunnel on the way home."

Beregond and Éothain nodded. "I will recruit a scouting party for the tunnel from among the White Company," Beregond offered. "The Men of Gondor are less uneasy in caves than are the Elves, and they may give a clearer report of the conditions in the mine."

"Thank you," Legolas said. "That is a kind offer, and I will readily admit that your words are true."

They negotiated the ridge successfully, and soon located the trail that led to the village of the People of Nurn. Legolas and Neldorín lay on a bluff overlooking the place in the dim light just before dawn. "It is such a small, shabby place," Neldorín said. "It is hard to believe that that collection of hovels is the source of so much of our current misery."

"We did not notice them," Legolas said. "Even as the Dark Lord did not notice the Ringbearer."

"The Ringbearer's errand was for good. These People of Nurn have only inflicted pain upon us."

Legolas nodded grimly. "You will see your son this day, Neldorín. My heart tells me that it will be so."

"Good. I will show no mercy to any of these people who tries to keep him from me."

None of the three companies needed a battle cry to rouse their spirits to the fight. They assembled quietly at the top of the bluff, and as morning spread across the fields of Nurn, they spilled down upon the village, swords and spears glittering.

The People of Nurn looked up when they heard the pounding of hoofs and froze in terror at the sight of the small army bearing down on them. Leaderless, they raced frantically to locate the weapons they had begun to keep in their huts, pulling crude pikes and long scimitars from their racks. Men and women alike ran at the invaders, slicing and jabbing wildly.

Though they were not adept at using their weapons, still they fought with all the passion they could muster. Their flailing blades brought down several horses, whose bodies crushed the legs of their riders as they fell. Sometimes, it required several soldiers to subdue an untrained woman swinging a scimitar in a wide arc around her body.

Through the blood and confusion, Legolas spied a woman whose dress was finer than the rest of her people. She fought surrounded by a knot of other women who seemed to respond to the commands she gave them. Legolas whistled sharply and began to cut his way through the press to reach her. Ten Elves closest to him responded to his signal and fought to stand at his side. After a few minutes of effort, they had the knot of women surrounded.

"Do not stop fighting!" the commanding woman cried. But the women defending her looked into the faces of the Elves menacing them and melted away. Legolas pushed past them and set his knife at the commanding woman's throat. "Where are the slaves?" he asked. The woman glared at him and said nothing. "Did I not make myself clear?" Legolas snarled. "Your folk hold captive women and children of Ithilien and one Elf child. You may simply tell me where they are, or we will find them. You know which way will lead to less bloodshed.”

The woman glared at him for a long moment, then opened her mouth and let out a shrill, piercing scream. Legolas flinched at the sound of it, and after a few seconds, the People of Nurn stopped fighting and turned towards them. The woman shot another glance at Legolas, then looked out over the battlefield. “There are too many of them,” she said. “You will stop fighting.”

Some of the People of Nurn exchanged wary glances. One man brandished his scimitar in the woman’s general direction. “We are free people,” he said. “We will not surrender and become slaves again.”

The woman shoved her way out of Legolas’s grip. “I am Wen, Thano’s woman! I say that you will stop fighting.” Wen raised her own sword and advanced on the man. He stumbled backwards a few steps and dropped his scimitar. Wen lowered her blade. “We live,” she said. “We live free, but we live.”

Legolas stepped forward. “We have no intention of making slaves of you,” he said. “Indeed, we seek the release of those prisoners that you yourselves keep. Tell us where they are hidden.”

"Tell me where Thano has gone," Wen countered.

Legolas sighed. "I do not know precisely where Thano is. I do not believe that I have ever laid eyes on him. Faramir, who is Steward of Gondor, believes that he is traveling to Harad with Gondor's Queen, who he has kidnapped."

"Why should he go to Harad? He is Lord of this land. We need him here."

"I do not think so." Legolas took a deep breath and willed himself to remain calm. "Mistress Wen, Thano has abandoned you, stolen a lady and her child who have never caused harm to anyone, and participated in the murder of someone I loved. You and your folk have no need of such a Lord as that."

The lines of Wen's jaw began to soften. "He promised me that he would make me as fine and glorious as the Elf of Gondor. Did he lie to me?"

Legolas shook his head. "I do not know. I do not know what he thought when he made you that promise. He should not have made it. But if you would be like the Elf of Gondor, then do now as she would do. Release the prisoners, for the Elf of Gondor would not keep slaves."

Wen considered Legolas's words for some time. Finally, she pointed at a dark, squat building with heavily barred doors some distance away. "In the barracks. It is not an unpleasant place. I myself dwelled there before Thano moved us to the big house."

"Thank you, Mistress Wen," Legolas said. "That was well done, and I will not forget it." He nodded to the soldiers, and Éothain and Beregond raced to unbar the barracks doors. Members of the White Company ventured in, and Neldorín went with them.

In a few moments, the village rang with joyful cries as the soldiers of Ithilien escorted the ladies and children out into the sunlight, thin and ragged, but alive. Some of the men were the husbands and fathers of the captives, and their faces glowed as they clasped their families close. Legolas waited, but Neldorín did not emerge. After a few moments, he ventured into the barracks.

He found the captain of his guard sitting trembling on the ground, clutching a small, limp body. His heart in his mouth, Legolas approached his friend. "Neldorín? What have you found?"

Neldorín raised his tear-stained face and smiled. "Faron lives," he said. "He is starved and battered, but my son is alive." He tightened his embrace, and Faron cracked one eye open and grasped at his father's shirt. Legolas shivered all over with relief. He helped Neldorín to his feet and followed as Neldorín carried his son out of the Orc barracks.

Aragorn sipped at a glass of wine and concentrated on his breathing. He was not sure how much longer he could endure the stalemate that had developed between himself and Ghayur. The trade negotiations had been in shambles for several days as Aragorn had demanded that Ghayur prove himself innocent of the assault upon Emyn Arnen and Ghayur had steadfastly refused to provide such proof.

Aragorn glanced at a map that lay among a pile of other papers on a table and considered that, while the exact location of the border between Gondor and Harad was a matter of some dispute, the trade depot was firmly within Gondor's territory. Ghayur was clearly a guest in Aragorn's land. If Aragorn wished to call a halt to the negotiations and eject Ghayur from Gondor, he was well within his rights to do so. However, to do so would be to destroy the fragile understanding between the two nations that Aragorn had spent so much time building. He was not willing to destroy that trust so easily. So he sat out yet another day in the relentless light and heat, listening to periodic reports as Peredur and Nasir debated their lords' positions.

Peredur had delivered his last report two hours earlier. Ghayur still denied knowledge of the incident, claiming that he had nothing to gain from such a maneuver. At this point, Aragorn was almost willing to believe him, save that Peredur consistently mentioned being made vaguely uneasy by Nasir's protestations of Haradric innocence. Over the years, Aragorn had learned to trust Peredur's impressions of people. The lord from Dol Amroth was not the most imaginative member of Aragorn's Council, nor the most outspoken, but his talent for reading the hearts of Men was almost as acute as Faramir's.

Evening fell once more without a compromise. Aragorn drank wine and ate a light meal, wishing that something would happen to break the stalemate. He had lost all interest in trading with Harad and wanted nothing more than to return to Minas Tirith and see his wife and daughter. Perhaps he should send for them. While it was undeniably a long journey for Ninniach, Aragorn considered that it might be worthwhile if the negotiations dragged out much longer. He could hear music and laughter drifting on the wind from Ghayur's camp and decided that he, too, would bring minstrels along on his next diplomatic endeavor.

A sudden commotion of voices and jingling tack outside his own tent distracted him from his foul mood. Desperate for news, he strode from his tent and found another message rider dismounting from his horse. The rider looked up, saw his King, and immediately looked terrified. "My Lord," he choked out. "I bring a message from Lord Faramir."

"Has Faramir learned anything more about the attack on Ithilien?" Aragorn asked. Perhaps he now had the information that would break the stalemate and allow him either to resume the negotiations or break them off entirely. The messenger could not seem to meet his eyes.

"Lady Éowyn and her children have returned safely to Gondor," the messenger said slowly. He held out the letter, sealed with the Steward's seal. "Perhaps my Lord would care to read the message personally." He beat a hasty retreat as soon as Aragorn had taken the letter from his hand.

With growing unease, Aragorn sent a page to fetch Peredur, then broke the seal on the letter. As he read, his limbs grew cold, and then a hot fire blazed in his belly. Shaking with rage, he stalked back into his tent, pulled Andúril from its rack and unsheathed the blade. Peredur appeared at the entrance to the tent.

"My Lord?" he said. "You summoned me. I am here." He stared at Andúril's naked blade. "Is something amiss?"

"Something is very much amiss," Aragorn said coldly. He thrust Faramir's letter at Peredur. "It is no longer Emyn Arnen. Minas Tirith herself has been attacked. The lower levels of the Citadel have been torched, Lady Doronrîn of Ithilien has been murdered, and Arwen and Ninniach have been taken captive. Reliable witnesses describe the attackers as led by a young nobleman of Harad. That is an act of unwarranted aggression." He watched with satisfaction as the color drained from Peredur's face.

After a shocked silence, Peredur knelt before his King. "I am ever at your service, my Lord," he said. "What would you have me do?"

"Arm yourself. You and I will pay Ghayur a visit and confront him with this report. If he cannot provide a satisfactory explanation, then we must break off negotiations and consider ourselves at war."

Just then, the music and laughter in the Haradric camp suddenly broke off. There was a moment of silence, and then angry shouts erupted from Ghayur's tent. Aragorn charged out of the tent. Peredur followed, shouting for his sword. His valet came running. Aragorn stood still, his entire attention focused on Ghayur's tent and the silhouettes he could dimly see moving within. A woman screamed, and then, incredibly, a baby cried.

Aragorn had heard enough. He raced across the trade depot's courtyard and pushed past the Haradric guards, noticing vaguely that they seemed confused and dismayed. He located Ghayur's tent easily and burst inside, stopping short at what he saw.

The singer lay dead in a pool of his own blood, his oud smashed beside him. A grim-faced young nobleman held a dagger to Ghayur's throat, pinning him down to a couch heaped with brightly colored silk cushions. Arwen, dirty and bedraggled, clutched a crying Ninniach as a small, dark man in rough black clothing pressed a knife against her back. Nasir, his sword still bloody from killing the singer, surveyed the whole scene with an expression of triumph.

Ghayur smiled when Aragorn entered. "Ah, here is the most esteemed and thrice honored King of Gondor himself," he said, as casually as if he had been interrupted at tea. "Enter and be welcome, o Lord of the North. There is many a tale to be told this night, and all who are worthy shall hear and judge them."