Seeds of the White Tree

Chapter 15 - The City of Many Waters

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Some places in this world cannot be done justice by word of mouth or the written word. Rather, they must be seen firsthand to be truly believed. Harad was such a place. The further southeast their party traveled, the less Túrien and Eldarion could be persuaded to tear their eyes away from the strange, utterly foreign land which now surrounded them. It was like nothing they had ever seen before. Not even the northern capital of Annúminas on the glassy shores of Lake Evendim had rendered ever-lively Túrien so utterly speechless.

Not a single tree or blade of grass grew as far as the eye could see. Instead the land was decorated by looming walls of sandstone bracketed by towering peaks around which black-winged vultures flew like bats. The sand shifted and scorched beneath their horses' hooves, making even stately old Brego's head droop in distaste. Against the burning yellow of the land, the sky seemed a blue so impossibly bright, it brought to mind an endless jewel in which the world had been encased. It was an arid land, a harsh land...a beautiful land, in its own sun-struck way.

For the men of Gondor and Rohan, the sun became an instant and inescapable enemy from the moment they crossed the river Poros at the southern border of Ithilien. Lord Elphir recommended travelling with the hoods of their cloaks up during daylight hours. Uncomfortable as the hot cloth around their heads was, it at least saved their faces from far more uncomfortable burns. Eldarion especially had to take care, having inherited his mother's porcelain pale complexion. Túrien however was somewhat swarthier, or at least as swarthy as one could call a descendent of Númenor like Aragorn. Still, she too kept her hood up as they rode throughout the day, eyes flashing from one rock formation to the next. Even Éomer, well used to long hours out under the open sky on the rolling hills of the Mark, could only stand to go uncovered in the earliest hours of the morning. Despite best efforts, every last one of them ended up sunburnt to some extent or other by the third day into Harad.

The unblinking sun was not the only eye under which they traveled. One morning Eldarion caught sight of something moving amongst the crags of a nearby cliff. At first, thinking perhaps it might have been a bird he said nothing but continued to watch. A few moments later, another flicker of movement confirmed Eldarion's suspicions. Reining Greyhame closer to where his father rode, Eldarion leaned in to speak in a low murmur while trying not to appear on the alert.

"Adar...I think there are men watching us...there, among the rocks."

To Eldarion's surprise, Aragorn smiled; a quick twitch of the lips that betrayed no unease.

"I had hoped you would spot them as well. Our hosts appear to have sent out a welcoming party."

"Then why do they not come forward and declare themselves?" asked Eldarion, still ill at ease now that he could feel the hairs on the back of his rising beneath hidden gazes.

"I think, perhaps, that they have been told by their lords to watch us, and see how we conduct ourselves within their lands. That is why I have told our sentries and guards not to stray too far from camp each night. No doubt any attempts or suspected attempts by us to scout the area on our way to Harmindon will not be well received." Seeing that Eldarion was still uncomfortable, Aragorn reached across to pat Greyhame's neck. "Take ease, Eldarion. If they meant us harm they have already had ample opportunity to attack. I am confident our 'escorts' will show themselves in good time."

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Sure enough, Aragorn turned out to be correct in his assumptions. On the fifth day the ever-present sandstone hedges which ran through the desert like veins tightened around them, transforming into a labyrinth of sand and stone. A faint trickle of water from somewhere within the rocks caught Eldarion's ear, making him think longingly of his nearly empty water skin. He saw no sign of a stream in the dusty earth though. Even the shadows cast by the walls of the gorge looming overhead wer little more than temptation unfulfilled; the heat was almost as high in the shade as it was in the open.