The caravan began their journey that morning in high spirits. Adira and her black mare trotted alongside her sister, Malika, who sat upon a brown colt. To the other side of Malika rode Elboron. The young girl liked the man from the Reunited Kingdom.

“Tell me about the girl I will be living with,” Malika begged of him yet again.

Elboron smiled. “Sídhil. She’s the youngest daughter of the King and Queen.”

Malika nodded. “What does she look like?”

“Sídhil is tall for her age, a little taller than you. She’s got dark hair and pale skin, and grey eyes just like her mother.” Elboron shook his head as he thought about her. “She's also a little rascal.”

Malika nodded forcefully. “I look forward to meeting her.”

Adira, listening in but not responding, finally chuckled. She looked at her youngest sister and shook her head. “Of course you are.”

“Maybe it isn't such a good idea to introduce Malika and Sídhil,” teased Fëalas, who dropped back from the front to talk with them. “Perhaps Malika should stay in Hidor.”

The girl laughed and shook her head in protest. “No!”

The land passed by them slowly. As the day progressed and the sun rose higher, they did their best to stay hydrated and cool. It was a difficult task, but there were outposts along this main road from Hidor through Near Harad and into the Reunited Kingdom. They planned on stopping in on Prince Elphir, Lady Orla, and their son Alphros in Dol Amroth.

They had been instructed to retrieve Alphros from Dol Amroth and bring him to Minas Tirith for him to begin concentrated training with Aderthon. The boy, eighteen years old now, showed a great affinity for swordplay. It was something Aderthon wanted to cultivate in him. Elboron agreed with him, and was eager to watch Alphros’ training begin in earnest.

By evening, they reached an inn on the road that was called Nomad’s Paradise. It had a large stable, large enough for all the horses. Fëalas dismounted and, with Sarnor at her side, walked up to the door and in.

The inn was very large, with old wooden floors and some sand that had been tracked inside littering the ground. To the left were all the rooms, and to the right, a tavern area. A Haradrim man stood behind a counter talking with a few Variags, visitors from Khand based on their very dark skin.

Eventually the men noticed the two pale skinned Gondorians standing at the door and stopped their talking to stare. Finally, shuffling her feet and twirling her red hair, Fëalas spoke up.

“Greetings. I am Fëalas, Captain of the Southern Dunedain of the Reunited Kingdom. We are on a mission for Chief Saleem of Hidor, traveling north.” She paused before continuing. “We request rooms for the night, housing for sixteen.”

“How many rooms?” The innkeeper asked. “Two to a room?”

Fëalas nodded with a small smile. “That would work, yes. Eight rooms.”

“You can pay?” He added this quickly as the Variags moved off into the tavern.

Fëalas drew out a small sack of gold coins and placed them on the counter. “Should be enough.”

The innkeeper smiled and nodded. “Indeed. Stable your horses and then bring the others inside. I will instruct my servants to show you to your rooms.”

Fëalas and Sarnor left the room and wandered out into the chilly night. The moon and stars were bright, and a brazier cast a warm glow about them as the redhead told her company to stable their horses.

“Bring in only what you need,” she ordered them. “Come on, pick up the pace.”

Eventually she guided Adira and Malika inside with Elboron. Her rangers trickled in after them, awaiting directions of servants as to where they would sleep. Adira and Malika would be in a room right across from Elboron and Fëalas. Hopefully the safest room in the inn. The rule for her rangers was simple: don't get drunk. They were on a job.

“Do either of you want anything from the tavern?” Fëalas asked the sisters. “I am heading there with Elboron. Two rangers will be stationed outside your door at all times.”

“I think we’re fine, thank you.” Adira smiled. “We have food already.”

Malika looked about the object but thought better of it. Even she knew a tavern on the road was no place for a ten year old girl. Fëalas was just being courteous.

Elboron led the way down the hall to the tavern. Several of the off duty rangers sat at tables, and there were Haradrim and Variags scattered around casting suspicious, but not hostile, glances at the pale skins. Generally the three groups stayed apart, though the Variags of Khand did speak with the Haradrim a few times.

It was gloomy inside the tavern. A roaring fire lit the center of the room, with darkness on each of the corners. Stains of spilled beers and ales splattered the floors and tables, with knife wounds in the wood, everywhere. A throwing knife game was on one wall, and a Variag challenged a Southron to a round.

Fëalas and Elboron sat down in a corner, using flint to light a candle on the table. Old, worn marks littered the tabletop. Thousands of stories were there. When the innkeeper came over they both ordered whatever the house ale was. He brought it quickly. The thump, thump of the knife game steadily beat in the background, with cheers and groans accompanying it.

“So,” Fëalas smiled, taking a sip. “What do you think Lothuial is doing?”

Elboron looked at her like she was crazy. “My wife is hundreds of thousands of miles away. How should I know?”

Fëalas chuckled. “Well, you're her husband right?”

Elboron scoffed and shook his head, leaning back against the wooden booth. “I'd imagine she’s resting. I hope she's resting. She’s sixth months pregnant after all!”

The redheaded ranger grinned widely. “I'm so excited for you, Elboron. Really.”

“I know you are, Fëalas.” Elboron smiled.

He remembered the days when she had loved him like he how he now loved Lothuial, and always regretted hurting her by saying no. But Fëalas was one to never stop loving. They remained great friends, friends who worked together often. For while Círeth, Fëalas’ twin sister, maintained her post south and west of Rhûn, Fëalas had of course remained near Harad. Barahir, Elboron's brother, was much more active with Círeth, unlike Elboron whose job as a councilman kept him in constant contact with Harad.

All of a sudden a great roar went up in the tavern as the man from Khand beat the Southron. Every patron, even all the rangers, were wrapped up in the game. Fëalas smiled and shook her head. She and Elboron walked over to find the dark skinned Variag talking with one of the rangers.

“Come on, pale skin!” He laughed lightly. “Surely you aren't afraid.”

Fëalas grinned. “Haereldir, you aren't afraid are you?”

The blonde ranger glared at his Captain and shook his head. “Of course not.”

“Then play,” laughed the Southron.

Haereldir nodded and took the four knives. With a quieting of the crowd, he drew back his arm and threw the knife. It hit the outer circle. Everyone laughed raucously. He glared and drew back his arm again. This throw hit much closer to the center. With one more throw he still hadn't hit the bullseye.

“Give it to me,” Fëalas laughed. “I'll take the final shot.”

The Variag grinned. “If you hit the center, we’ll pay for your drinks. If you lose, you pay for ours.”

Elboron tried to stop her. They couldn't risk wasting money like that. But she shook his arm off and nodded.

“Deal.”

She stood where Haereldir had been told to stand. She felt the weight of the knife in her hand. It was well balanced, a good help for her. She whipped her red hair out of her face and with a swing she let it go.

Thump.

“I believe you owe us some coin,” Elboron smiled at the Variags and the Haradrim.

At first they were afraid they would refuse and attack, but after a moment the group roared with laughter again and everyone, with varying degrees of head nodding, pulled out coins.

“Impressive, woman.” The first Variag nodded to her, the one who had issued the challenge. “Very impressive.”