[Fordim Hedgethistle]

“Tell me more of your journey.”

The King and the man of the West were sitting upon cushions in the courtyard of the small villa that had been placed at the latter’s disposal for the duration of his stay. He had, as yet, not spoken of how long this might be, nor had he elaborated upon the Lord Annatar’s messages of alliance, but there had been much to speak of anyway. The King himself, intrigued by the stranger, had shown him the way to his lodgings, an event that had caused a slight rustle of murmur to follow them both through the palace grounds as they had proceeded along the gravelled paths. Along the way they had tarried to look at the plants and statuary, with Faroz explaining what he knew of each. He was not an avid gardener and he had been forced to ask his attendants upon more than one occasion the name of a plant, or to identify its properties. The Emissary had seemed interested in all that he could learn of the plants, and at the King’s bidding had broken off the stems of some blossoms and carried them with him to his rooms. “These remind me of a plant that we have in my own homeland,” he had explained. “It is used in the healing of certain ailments of the blood. I am curious to see if this plant is related to the one I know.”

Faroz’s chamberlain, an elderly man who had served the former King in the same capacity for some years, spoke up at this point. He was a tall and severe looking person, with sharp features and very little hair left upon his wizened head. “That plant is called farullias by my people,” he explained quietly. “It is used for healing, but how and for what I do not know. If you would like I will arrange to have a healer come to you in your chambers to discuss it and other plants.” Despite his polite manner, it was clear that the elderly courtier had yet to form an opinion of the stranger.

Faroz smiled at him. “Yes Jarult,” he said, “that is an excellent idea. I am sure our new friend has much to learn from our people. And I am sure we have much to learn from him as well.” The manner of his address to the stranger was noted by Jarult with little more than a flicker in his eyes, but it did not go unnoticed by the King. I must be more guarded he told himself. I do not know why I am so drawn to this man, but I must be cautious before my people. It would not do for me to be overly familiar too soon. He looked ahead once more to the chance for private conference.

As they sat upon the cushions then, looking at the potted trees and feeling the cooler airs of the coming evening settle about them, Faroz took great pleasure in the moment. It had been many years since he had sat alone with any person for a private conversation, and it had caused quite a stir when he had dismissed his train of attendants so that he could speak with the Emissary. The stranger had bathed himself and been clothed in dark silks after the manner of the Pashtian nobility. While the manner of his dress and his surroundings must have seemed strange to him, he appeared comfortable at the villa, quickly seeing to the ordering of the rooms and to the disposition of the few belongings that he had brought with him over the desert. Five of his men-at-arms were to remain with him at the villa. The others had been housed in apartments at the Palace. When the Emissary was refreshed, Faroz took him to the courtyard and pointed out the bas-relief that had been carved into the wall facing the main passage. It was an expertly executed likeness of the former King. He was mounted upon a horse and about him was a host of cavalry, resplendent beneath a sun of gold. The figures had been so cunningly painted that they seemed to glow with life. The ivy upon the walls had begun to grow about the figures, as though to crown them with leaves and berries. Beneath this image the two men reclined upon the large silk cushions and spoke for many hours.

He had found his companion knowledgeable about Pashtia and the lands about it, and they spoke for a long time of his journey. “A hard coming we had of it,” he concluded. “But the lands between your kingdom and the realm of my Lord are becoming much safer with the end of the conflicts that have ravaged the West. Oh,” he said feelingly, “how we envy you the peace and prosperity you have built here! Such wonderful things have we seen since our arrival! Mind you, with the end of strife for my Lord, he has turned into something of a craftsman himself. The ring he has sent you, for example.”

Faroz leapt at the topic with an eagerness that surprised him. “Yes, you perceive my mind. I have wanted to ask you of that since receiving it. It is a wonderful thing. He made it himself you say?”

The Emissary nodded. “Indeed, with his own hands. Nine such rings has he forged to give to his closest friends and allies. I myself bear the first, and yours is but the second.”

Faroz felt an odd flush of gratitude at hearing this. “Who will bear the remaining seven?”

“Those other kings and princes of the world who wish to accept them from my lord,” the Emissary replied quietly. “We seek to build a new order in this Middle-earth. One based on bonds forged between rulers so unbreakable as to make conflict between them unthinkable.” As he spoke his dark grey eyes shone like burnished steel. He looked directly at Faroz and the King noticed how very dark the man’s hair was, and the strength of his even features.

“You have not yet told me your name,” the King said. Then, recovering himself, he said more diplomatically. “That is, I have not asked you your name, for I do not know if such is the manner of your people.”

The Emissary smiled and reclined upon his cushions, completely at ease. “Indeed, it is not the practice of my lord to have his messengers name themselves to his fellow Kings. He prefers for us to speak as with his voice. For believe me, majesty, what I say comes from the Lord Annatar as sure as if he were here with us now. But be that as it may. While I must be nameless to your people, you can call me Ashnaz.” As he said this a slow smile came across his features, as though he were laughing at some jest, but his manner was one of sincerity and friendship.

Faroz smiled and, taking the man by his hand, said, “Very well, my friend – for such will I call you as I can see that you are a person of honour and great dignity in your land, and our conversation this afternoon has been greatly pleasing to me. But come,” he said, suddenly remembering the time, “we must be gone to the banquet.” Rising they left the villa and proceeded back toward the palace.