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When Eldarion awoke the next morning, it was to the sound of unknown birds trilling in the gardens below his window. The day was already hot, and so he was glad of the lightness of the sheets as he slid out of them. Padding over to the window in bare feet, he opened the intricately carved shutters and threw them wide.

The vast arch of an aquaduct loomed overhead, casting a shadow across the gardens and the old men who tended them. A cool, earthy scent just barely tinged with the brightness of sunlight stretched up into the air from the waxen leaves of ferns and trees. Eldarion caught sight of a brief flash of iridescent wings among the foliage. With Harmindon still quiet at dawn, he could just hear the constant trickle of water down from the duct along the core of the nearest sandstone column. The City of Many Waters lay in wait, beckoning its guests to see what sights it might hold. Eldarion could scarcely wash and dress himself fast enough.

They gathered in a shaded courtyard for a breakfast of milk, honey and a white, fleshy plant which Bakr told them was called 'coconut'. According to him, coconuts grew only around the shores of Harad's rare oasis pools, knowledge which made Eldarion appreciate the delicacy even though the flavor was not quite to his liking.

Leaving the ramyahs to talk amongst themselves like old friends reunited (and Bakr to retreat to the cool of Harmindon's baths), Na'Man and Tufayl graciously offered to guide a tour around the city itself. Aragorn of course accepted, as did Éomer, with Lord Elphir only too happy to join their group. Éomer requested that two of his Rohirrim also come along, with a meaningful look at Aragorn implying that perhaps he ought to request the same. Na'Man had no qualms about the presence of the two Riders, and so they set out into the streets with the two chieftains leading. A handful of Haradrim guards also accompanied them, although they seemed far more at ease than the Rohirrim, who were already beginning to sweat beneath their burnished helms.

While Aragorn, Éomer, Elphir and the chieftains spoke together as they walked, Eldarion dropped back to Túrien's side. She greeted him with a broad smile. There was a happy lightness to her step that made Túrien seem to float along the sand-paved streets.

"Well, what think you of Harad so far?" Eldarion asked her.

Túrien paused to briefly investigate a small, furry creature with a curled tail and clever hands tethered beneath the awning of a shop before answering. The animal blinked up at her curiously. When Túrien knelt to offer an open hand to it, the creature dared to stretch forward and sniff her palm.

"Take care, lady of the west," the shopkeeper warned her. "Even trained monkeys may bite."

"That is just as well, for so do I," laughed Túrien, flashing a toothy white grin up at the woman. Such a pronouncement sent the woman back to her wares with a low chuckle and a shake of her head.

Seeing that the others had stopped and were looking back questioningly at them, Eldarion tapped Túrien's shoulder. "Come Túrien, we mustn't be separated from Adar and Éomer."

Túrien stood, heedless of the sand now dusting the knees of her linen hose. Against the sun's punishing rays she wore overtop a thin cotton shirt and a light grey surcoat laced at the sides without sleeves. With a final wave back at the monkey, she and Eldarion rejoined the group. Where Na'Man was leading them Eldarion did not know, but there was a knowing twinkle in Aragorn's eye when he looked back.

"I think that there is so much to this land and these people that we would never have known had we stayed in Minas Tirith," she said, unexpectedly answering Eldarion's question. "Can you imagine how the lords of Gondor would react if told that the Haradrim answer to the rule of their womenfolk while within the bounds of home? Or if it were suggested that they ought to do the same?"

"It sounds to me as if such an arrangement would suit you fairly well Túrien!" Eldarion laughed.

"It would. I think Naneth would do a wonderful job of ordering life in Minas Tirith...not that Adar doesn't. But truly Eldarion, do you really think Faramir is doing everything for Gondor back home while Naneth and Éowyn sit back with a basket of yarn and knitting needles?"

"Hardly! Can you imagine how Éowyn would react to even the suggestion? No, I would not doubt for a moment that, while Faramir and Naneth tend to the city, Éowyn is even now corresponding back and forth with their settlement in Ithilien, ensuring all is well and that no Haradrim have-"

Suddenly aware that, given their current lodgings and company, the old Gondorian standby of 'marauding Haradrim' related humor was no longer appropriate, Eldarion clamped his teeth down on his tongue in mid-sentence. Thankfully, the Haradrim guards flanking their group seemed not to have heard, or at least were gracious enough to keep their gazes forward as they walked. Still it was a good realization for Eldarion. If all were to turn out as well if not better than everyone present hoped for, the people of Harad would no longer be their enemies. They would, in fact, become not only their allies but also neighbors nearly as close to their borders as Rohan. Aware of his own near-failing and catching yet another suspicious glance from a Haradrim passerby in the street, Eldarion knew then that it was a long road indeed yet ahead.

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Na'Man led them through crowded bazaars, along wide streets shaded by overhead branches of the aquaducts, and finally to the very edge of Harmindon itself. Eldarion looked up curiously at the rocky faces of Harmindon's natural boundaries as they re-entered the labyrinth. This was not the way they had come when first they arrived. Where exactly were Na'Man and Tufayl taking them?

A sudden rumble shook the ground and set it trembling beneath Eldarion's feet. He had felt such a thing before. Instincts prickling, he caught Túrien by the wrist and drew close to Aragorn.

"Adar! Is that...?"

Amusement played across Aragorn's regal face as he stopped and turned to his children. So it seemed he was indeed aware of whatever it was Na'Man intended. So were Éomer and Elphir, if their lack of alarm at the thundering drumbeat reverberating through the earth beneath their feet were any indication.

"Indeed it is, Eldarion. Last night at dinner, Na'Man invited us to see Harmindon's Mûmakil herd. Having only seen them in battle, I thought perhaps you and Túrien might enjoy a different sort of surprise?"

Túrien and Eldarion's mouths dropped open in stunned delight. Na'Man's laughter echoed along the walls of the canyon.

"Come! The Mûmakil and their keepers will be awaiting us!"

When they rounded the bend in the path, Eldarion and Túrien's amazement grew tenfold. They found themselves standing in another opening in the labyrinth; not quite as large as the hollow where Harmindon nestled but fairly close. This it seemed was the truth path of the Na'Man ab Jubayr. The spring burst free of its casement a ways up the rocky face, flowing clear and cool down the stones to form a small lake. Around these waters grew thick, marshy grass which covered nearly half of the open ground. All of this was beautiful in and of itself, here in the midst of Harad's desert. Everyone had eyes only for the Mûmakil though.

It was the first time Eldarion had ever seen the Haradrims' war-beasts without their fearsome paint, barbed chains and mounted turrets. He had been expecting their vast size after facing them at the Sea of Rhûn. What he had not been expecting was the variety of the herd.

Bull Mûmaks with their tusks as long as sailing ships stood against the walls, some simply leaning and others rubbing their sides as if scratching an itch. They seemed altogether calm and content, which was something Eldarion had never seen from such vast beasts before. He had also never seen Mûmakil cows and calves before.

The cows were significantly smaller than the bulls, and entirely without their mates' enormous tusks. They were still each large enough to dwarf a barn by themselves though, and their footfalls shook the ground as they milled around the shores of the lake, grazing on the long grass. Haradrim, easily spotted by their bright red headwraps, walked without fear among the legs of these giants, even daring to lay hand on their tree-trunk legs in passing.

"I would remind you that you are the first folk from west of the river Poros that we have permitted to see this place in centuries..." Na'Man was saying "...but your faces suggest such is unneeded. Even you, lords of the west, are as wide-eyed as children!"

Elphir smiled and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Even nearly twice Eldarion's age as he was, the Prince of Dol Amroth still seemed young in his amazement.

"It would be a fool indeed who did not marvel at such a sight...a fool, or a blind man!"

Even Éomer stood rooted to the spot, unable to look away. Turning to Na'Man he spoke with the keen interest of a fellow mounted rider. "The creatures permit your people to walk among them so freely, even with their young close at hand? Surely animals so large would endanger their keepers simply by walking from place to place?"

Tufayl shook his head. "Nay, King Éomer. These are the people of Harmindon's herd, and so I myself dare not approach, the same for you and your fellow guests. Mûmakil are as clever as they are mighty however, and know their riders from sight. I have seen the largest bull in Pazghar's herd hold his foot suspended in midair to avoid crushing a man on the ground."

"And yet they fought so fiercely on the Fields of Pelennor as to have earned your people an eternal place in Gondor's tales of the battle," said Aragorn. The adventure-loving ranger seemed to have resurfaced from within the king at the sight of the Mûmakil. He crouched down to one knee on the ground, laying a hand flat against the earth to better feel the vibrations of the Mûmak's footsteps. "To us, they have become one-in-the-same as your people, in that one never appears without the other in our stories."

This seemed to please the chieftains greatly. The two men smiled at Aragorn, and Na'Man's head bobbed in agreement, his black eyes gleaming.

"In that at least, the people of the West have taken the measure of our people correctly. The Mûmakil are the heart of our tribe. Without a Mûmakil, there cannot be a tribe. They carry the pride and honor of our lineage on their backs, and bear generation after generation across the desert. After a Mûmak dies, we do the same for them by carrying them with us wherever we go..." Na'Man's hand fell to the chain of black thread and bone beads he wore around his neck. "These are the bones of my grandfather's father's Mûmak. Now, my son learns to ride the bull that bore my grandfather into battle."

"Is Sufyan here?" asked Tufyal. Shading his eyes from the son, the chieftain of Pazghar scanned the herd. "I did not have a chance to speak properly with him last night, and no doubt neither did our guests."

Na'Man chuckled. "No doubt. He is here, and I will call him to us."

Raising his fingers to his mouth, Na'Man whistled twice, loud and sharp enough to make Eldarion wince. Many heads turned around the lake, including many of the Mûmakil. A figure broke away from the gathering, setting out through the long grass toward them. When one of the smallest calves came toddling after him, gigantic ears flopping as it ran, Túrien gasped aloud with delight.

When Sufyan drew close enough to greet them, Eldarion recognized him as the dancer whom Túrien had been appreciating at dinner the night before. He was of a sturdier build than Na'Man, with strong arms and squarer features. There was much of his mother, Sawda, in him now that Eldarion cared to notice. He did not sport a beard like Na'Man or Tufayl, and the smoothness of his face told Eldarion he was likely about Elfwine's age. Sufyan greeted them with the same salute as Eldarion had seen Na'Man and the other chieftains use upon first meeting with Aragorn and Éomer; a palm inward toward the face before turning it outward.

"Kings Aragorn of the White City and Éomer of the Mark, Princess Túrien, Prince Eldarion and Lord Elphir, I introduce to you my son by Ramyah Sawda, Sufyan," said Na'Man formally.

Aragorn bowed his head to the young Haradrim. "Well met, Sufyan son of Na'Man of Harmindon. And well met to your friend as well!"

The Mûmak calf which had followed Sufyan was lingering close behind him, almost as if shy of the strangers. Even as young as it obviously was, it was still as tall as a mighty oak tree with legs as wide around as one. A swat from its trunk could send a grown man flying. Sufyan turned back to it with a fond grin though, catching the end of its trunk and giving it a gentle tug.

"Gïdjls is bold, for a calf his age. It is not often that the Mûmakil see Westerlings through calm eyes."

"Westerlings?" Asked Túrien, bemused.

"Sufyan!" Na'Man's voice was stern.

"Interesting..." Eldarion couldn't keep the ironic laughter out of his voice. "It seems that, just as Middle-Earth has its Easterlings, it also has so-called 'Westerlings' in counterpoint."

Sufyan's gaze lowered. The chieftain's son seemed abashed. "I apologize, Äke...honored guests. Given your enmity with the folk of Rhûn, I should have thought before I spoke."

Aragorn however was not offended, as indeed Eldarion had not expected him to be. "No apologies are needed, Sufyan. Indeed, from where the people of Harad stand, 'Westerlings' is a more than apt name for the folk of Gondor and the Westfold. Éomer?"

Éomer it seemed was otherwise occupied. While Sufyan and the others had been speaking, the Mûmak calf had been edging around ever closer and closer to the group. Now within reach, it was stretching out its trunk, altogether bringing to mind a child trying to take a curious poke at a strange new plaything.

Éomer for his part did not seem to know how to react. The closer the trunk got, the wider his eyes grew. The king of Rohan stood his ground though, not even flinching when the tip of the calf's trunk was practically touching his ear. His expression did more than speak for him; it practically shouted a thousand words in Na'Man and Tufyal's direction, most of them demanding to know what he ought to do.

"Er...?" was all he said, for risk of startling the calf by actually speaking.

"All is well, King Éomer," said Sufyan quickly. "Gïdjls will not harm you, but he may-"

Even as Sufyan spoke, the Mûmak's probing trunk made contact. It ruffled its way through Éomer's greying gold hair, mussing it across his face and putting some parts of it on end. Everyone watched and waited with baited breath to see how Éomer reacted.

For what seemed the first time since they had left Minas Tirith, Éomer broke out into laughter. It was a short chuckle, little more, but still the horsemaster's bearded face grew lively with mirth. Ducking his head out of Gïdjls' reach, he batted the probing trunk away as one might the swishing tail of a mischievous horse.

"Go back to your master! This 'Westerling' has nothing for you!"

Hearing Éomer laugh and seeing his thoroughly tousled hair, Túrien broke into laughter too. Eldarion was not far behind, and even Aragorn and the other men shared amused grins at the king of Rohan's expense. Sufyan bribed Gïdjls away with a handful of fruit, and with him as their shepherd they walked amongst the towering legs of Harmindon's Mûmakil. Every time Eldarion looked up and saw the sun blotted out by the enormous figure of a Mûmak or felt the earth rumble beneath his feet, he thought less and less of fighting at the Sea of Rhûn. Rather, he now looked forward to what the rapidly brightening future might bring.

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