Seeds of the White Tree

Chapter 16 - Blood of Life

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The Men of the West and their Haradrim hosts gathered for dinner in a round hall filled with the glow of firelight. Fire burned in braziers hanging suspended from hooks upon every pillar and in an open pit in the center of the room. A low table ringed the hall a ways back from the central fire; low enough that cushions rather than chairs were set at each place. Musicians could be heard playing unfamiliar instruments, and the sound was somehow both discordant and rich to Eldarion's ears, not unlike the war horns he had heard at the Sea of Rhûn.

Uncertain of where to sit, Eldarion looked to his father for guidance. Aragorn, Éomer, Elphir and Eldarion had all bathed and dressed for a state dinner, although even their linen shirts and thin-layered doublets felt like too much fabric to be wearing in the lingering heat. Eldarion thought his father looked very kingly in gold-embroidered scarlet, as well as suited to the favored colors of the Haradrim. Eldarion himself wore white and dark brown, and was glad he had opted to go without a cloak or cape of any sort. Éomer was already flushed in his lordly cloak of green and gold, although the king of Rohan gave no show of discomfort. Instead he waited unspeaking next to Aragorn, his sun-lined gaze mapping out the hall and everyone in it with the precision of a seasoned warrior.

A young boy approached, addressing them in thickly accented Westron. "Kings and lords of the west, Chieftain Na'Man invites you to join him and his most honored guests at the table."

Aragorn smiled at the boy. "We follow your lead then, good page."

The boy led them around the edge of the room past scores of Haradrim men already seated. Many dark eyes lingered on them as they passed; Eldarion could feel their gazes prickling at the back of his neck. It came as a relief when he recognized Na'Man, Bakr and Tufayl sitting together toward the back of the hall. Empty cushions waited on either side of the three chieftains. They did not rise to greet the newly arrived kings, which would have sparked instant outrage if this dinner were to be taking place in the Great Hall of Feasts in Minas Tirith. Polite smiles brightened the faces of Na'Man and Bakr though, and the chieftains nodded their heads in greeting, which seemed to be considered sufficient. Following the lead of their hosts, Aragorn and Éomer only nodded as well before folding their legs and settling on untaken cushions.

Eldarion nearly bumped his knee on the low table as he sat. His heart sank when he saw the place set on the table in front of him. On either side of the plate were a number of unfamiliar utensils, none of which Eldarion knew how to use. How would the Haradrim speak of Gondor if its prince were to make a fool of himself over a simple dinner? Another thought also set Eldarion's nerves on edge; where was Túrien? Where were any of the Haradrim women, in fact? Looking around the ring of the table, Eldarion could see only men present.

"King Aragorn and King Éomer, we trust you and your people found your accommodations acceptable?" asked Na'Man. The chieftain now wore an open robe of deep saffron over his jacket, the hem of which pooled across his folded knees like woven sunlight.

"More than acceptable, Chieftain Na'Man," Aragorn replied. "The beauty of your house's baths is almost as delightful as the freshness of the water after our days of travel. Truly, Harmindon's aquaducts are a marvel of ingenuity."

"I must admit, their use is impressive," admitted Éomer, somewhat begrudgingly.

Bakr chuckled, his impossibly deep voice like rolling thunder. "The City of Waters has been the crown jewel of our people for centuries upon centuries. The aquaducts find their source from a hidden spring deep within the cliffs. Our ancestors, upon finding the spring and declaring it the heart of life in the desert, labored long and over many generations to deliver its water to civilization. Even in times of war, it is forbidden by law to bar anyone who comes unarmed from accessing the spring."