As soon as the women were certain that the guard was out of hearing range, many of them leapt to their feet and clustered about Waerburh, Aeffe and Frithuswith. Murmuring fretful reassurances, solicitous friends led them to a blanket spread before a cheerfully crackling fire. Both Aeffe and Frithuswith stumbled slightly as they walked, causing some to fear that they had been beaten.

"Will you tell us what happened... we can understand if you are unable to speak of the horrors..." Serious concern mingled with a perverse curiosity as the three women were bombarded with questions and given little time to answer.

Her back towards the fire, Goldwyn stood and faced the women. "Tell us what these barbarian fiends did to you! We are your friends and can commiserate with you, for undeniably we will face the same as did you!" She looked to Aeffe and Frithuswith. "Why do you limp? Did they hurt you?"

"No," both Aeffe and Frithuswith shook their heads.

"Did they—" Goldwyn began, but was interrupted.

"These people are fiends!" Waerburh cried as she clenched her fist into a ball. "Brutes and barbarians!"

"What! What!" cried the small crowd of captives who had gathered around the three women. They were wild for news and gossip, for they wanted to learn all they could about their new captor, what sort of man he was and what they might expect should he summon one of their number to his tent. From listening to Esarhaddon uHuzziya’s speech earlier that day, the women deemed that the man followed his own set of rules when it came to dealing with captives, which made him far more threatening than the Khandian cavalrymen who guarded the women and children for part of the journey to Minas Tirith. Some women were also looking for more excuses to rebel against their captors, for they wished to bolster up their courage and alleviate any doubts concerning this foolhardy escape attempt. Many were hesitant and fearful of risking their lives in a mad flight and then embarking on a journey into a blighted wasteland. There was nothing like an outrage to give them courage and spur them on to action. It was the stiff drink of mead that a timid rider drank in the early morning hours ere charging off into battle.

"Did they touch you?" one of the listeners asked.

"I do not want to talk about it!” Waerburh lashed out angrily, surprising the other women, for she had always seemed a very calm, quiet sort of lady.

"Let us be calm," Goldwyn advised, though she felt far from serene herself. Shaken by the vehemence in the other woman's voice, she forced herself to remain composed.

Aeffe, the youngest of the three, spoke up excitedly. "I do not know what happened to Waerburh, but I can tell you my story!" she exclaimed, her words running together. "When the guards first took us to the pavilion, Esarhaddon and his men were not there, and we were met by one of his servants. He explained that he was a eunuch – a man who is gelded like a horse – and that men like him protect the households of wealthy nobles in Harad. The eunuch instructed us to bow low to the ground when Esarhaddon arrived – as we were told to do yesterday. Then he directed us to keep our eyes downcast when Esarhaddon and his men were present; not to smile or laugh, for that would be considered forward; not to speak unless we were addressed, for that would be considered most discourteous; and how to serve the men their favored draughts."

"All that Aeffe has said is true," Frithuswith concurred when the excited girl paused to catch her breath. "The eunuch was polite, almost formal with us, and kept his distance. I could tell you he was a monster –which might make my story more exciting – but would be untrue." The young, unmarried daughter of a nobleman, Frithuswith possessed a graceful, dignified manner, and prided herself on her honesty and objectivity. Unlike many of the women, she had been educated by tutors and could read and write. She had always enjoyed reading histories which told of dealings with folk in faraway lands. Now here she was, telling about the unique customs of a strange and alien people. Aside from the alarming circumstances, she felt as though she were some great explorer who was regaling an eager crowd with fascinating tales of his journey.

"Then after the servant had told you these things, what happened?" a puzzled Goldwyn asked. Although Waerburh had hinted of terrible things occurring in the slaver’s tent, the accounts of the other two women seemed innocuous enough.

"More servants arrived to serve the men their supper," Frithuswith explained. "Unlike our people, who sit at tables and chairs or benches to eat, the Southrons gather around low tables when they take their meals. They sit upon cushions on the floor or ground, often reclining as they eat. Their table manners are impeccable, far more genteel than the habits of some buffoons I have seen in our own land. When they had finished their meal, the Southrons dipped their fingers in bowls of perfumed water held by the servants and waited as their fingers were dried. These Haradrim take great pride in their cleanliness." She paused, observing the small audience's reaction, and then continued when she deemed they were showing her the respect she deserved.

"Over the course of the meal, Esarhaddon asked us a great number of questions: whether we had been peasants or nobility back in the Mark, if we were unlettered or educated, if we had been trained in any particular trade, if possessed any noteworthy skills or talents. He explained not the purpose of this interview – or perhaps interrogation – but his questions seemed more intensive than casual conversation. This interview, or perhaps interrogation, seemed far more serious than the casual curiosity of idle conversation, but the slaver never divulged the purpose of his many questions. In exchange for our cooperation, he and his men told us tales of Harad, the land of their birth."

"Why did Esarhaddon wish to know this information, I wonder." Her brow furrowed in consternation, Goldwyn wondered what ulterior motive the slave trader might have in desiring such knowledge about the three women.

"After the meal, servants carried in large trays of desserts. There were confections of the lightest consistencies, as delicate as the down from a thistle; others, thin and crisp and covered with the seeds of poppies and other seeds with which I am unfamiliar; I believe they called them sesame. Some were covered in sticky icing and filled with the most delicious flavors of fruits. There were wafers that melted in the mouth, and some sort of cracker that when, first tasted, was overwhelmingly salty, but, after being swallowed, left a taste of honey in the mouth. When the men had eaten all they wanted, Esarahddon bade us to take what we wished while they drank a strange black frothy liquid in tiny cups. The draught – which they said was called 'coffee' – was much too potent for any of us, so they allowed us to drink tea or water instead." Frithuswith surveyed the throng of women, her haughty eyes narrowed somewhat, challenging anyone to gainsay her.

"Were you not afraid of being poisoned?" a young maid, who was enraptured by her story, spoke up hesitantly.

An indignant snort from Waerburh drew all eyes to where she sat. "No, my dear child!" she interjected, her face twisted in a wry smile. "Why would they wish to do that? We are worth far more to them alive than we are dead — at least for now." The woman looked towards the fire. "Go on, Frithuswith. I did not mean to interrupt."

A hush fell over the crowd as Frithuswith resumed her tale. "At the conclusion of the meal, the men rose to their feet, and the servants rearranged the cushions around a table at one side of the tent. Esarhaddon commanded us to take a seat on the pillows with him and his men. Then they brought in this… strange device… a glass vessel of some sort, from which coiled out long cords." She wondered how she would ever explain this to these superstitious, ignorant peasant women. She did not even understand it herself.

"What was this thing?" an incredulous cry rose up.

"It reminded me of a dragon in a way, with all the smoke that it produced,” Aeffe explained exuberantly. "At the top of the glass vessel burnt a lump of dark colored resin, and the men used the long cords to inhale the sweet-smelling smoke. Within the bowels of the vessel was a churning liquid that bubbled and hissed like the brew in a cauldron whenever one drew in a breath. I was frightened of the peculiar device, for the smoke made me cough and choke. The man beside me, a charming fellow named Inbir, offered me a goblet of wine to soothe my throat, and told me not to be afraid. He assured me that the vessel – which he said was called a waterpipe – would bring me no harm. He told me to put one of the long cords up to my lips and inhale, for the vapors offered many benefits to the health. I did as Inbir instructed, and when I inhaled, the smoke escaped from my mouth in a great cloud, just like a dragon breathing fire."

The women looked to each other in amazement, unable to comprehend anything of what Aeffe had spoken. "Is the girl drunk?" a formidable buxom matron whispered to the woman beside her, who shook her head and whispered back, "That I do not know, but something has certainly affected her reason!"

If Aeffe heard them, she gave no indication, for she was reliving the evening in Esarhaddon's tent as though it were happening at that moment. "A strange feeling came over me after that, one of bliss and languor." Closing her eyes, she sighed at the memory. "All fear of the Southrons left me, and I enjoyed being in their presence and listening to their tales. I enjoyed the company of Inbir most of all. He is so handsome and kind..." She smiled in the darkness, dreaming of the young Southron who was in Esarhaddon's employ. "But then the smoke overcame me and I fell asleep, and remember no more."

"Scandalous, brazen hussy!" many of the women condemned her in their minds, but not to her face. "The little wanton, she has become a common whore, allowing these heathens to corrupt her virtue! What would her kin think of their pampered darling now?" The captives could scarcely account that they had heard her words correctly, and all began wondering whether Aeffe had fallen under the influence and control of a great sorcerer who had charmed her out of her wits, or if she had merely been seduced.

"Aeffe!" Goldwyn exclaimed as she bent down and took the girl's hands in her own. "Please, dear, I think you should rest now! You are quite distraught!"

"Yes, perhaps that would be best." Aeffe looked up into the face of Goldwyn and giggled softly. "I would like to think more about the dragon... and Inbir."

"Here, child, let me help you," Leofgifu volunteered, her heart aching with sympathy for the poor girl. She knew that many of the women would think ill of Aeffe's infatuation with a man of Harad. How could the girl have been so foolish as to admit such a thing before all the other women?

"Poor, poor Aeffe!" Goldwyn lamented as she watched the motherly Leofgifu lead the girl away.

Frithuswith huffed, "I scarcely see why all of you are so bewildered, for Aeffe spoke truly. I, too, breathed in the smoke from the vessel which smoked and fumed like a dragon. I felt no fear of it, for no harm had come to Aeffe. After inhaling the smoke, I felt the most wondrous sensation of peace, and like Aeffe, I, too, soon succumbed to the spell of sleep." Her voice trailed off as she stared wistfully into space.

Goldwyn was both furious and disgusted. "Frithuswith, there was no dragon! Can you not see what these men have done to you?" she exclaimed angrily. "The two of you were bewitched by spells and potions! They are all sorcerers and skilled in administering the most baleful poisons! Please, Frithuswith, you must rest, for you are surely babbling nonsense!"

"Of course, I know there was no dragon! This vessel – this waterpipe – was like a dragon, not a dragon itself. Back in the Mark, none of you would have dared talk to me like this, for I am the daughter of a lord!" With a disdainful "hmph," Frithuswith reproachfully looked down her long, slender nose at the other woman. "I am not babbling nonsense, but I will take my leave of you now and catch such sleep as I can before dawn. Good night to you all." Rising to her feet, she stalked away.

"Waerburh!" Goldwyn clenched her hands in anger and frustration. "What madness is this? What has befallen them? Have these despicable Southrons bemused them with spells or potions? Everyone knows that they all are sorcerers, evil men of the cruelest and basest of intents!"

"Goldwyn, take no thought that this thing Aeffe and Frithuswith have described is a dragon; it is some device of the cruelest and most devilish of cunning," Waerburh announced gravely as she looked around at the circle of women. "The chamber – which the Southrons call its 'bowels' – dispenses some rank poison that makes the mind murky and lays a cloud of darkness over the powers of reasoning. That is my only explanation for the power of this fiendish apparatus."

Looking at one another, the women slowly nodded their heads up and down, murmuring their agreement. More than one of them concluded, "Poor Aeffe and Frithuswith! They have allowed themselves to be deceived!"

"I almost wish now that I had been intoxicated by the vapors, for perhaps this would have blunted the horror of the slave trader's words," Waerburh stated quietly. "But I was sober and of sound mind, and so I was not spared from the terrible knowledge of the dire perils which await us in the Dark Land."

The other women murmured amongst themselves, wondering what dreadful tale Waerburh had to tell.

"While Aeffe and Frithuswith lay in a drugged slumber, Esarhaddon commanded me to sit by his side, for he wished to speak with me. He, too, had partaken of the sinister smoke, but he had more of his wits about him than his fellows, who wallowed upon the ground in a state of profound inebriation. The conversation began innocently enough, but then he began to take liberties. When I rejected his advances, he became angry, and told me that slaves were never to disobey the wishes of their master or mistress."

"Did he hurt you?" Goldwyn asked, alarmed.

"No, but what he told me made my blood freeze cold. 'There are several fates which await a disobedient slave,' he said. 'The first, of course, is punishment – usually by the whip, although more creative methods are sometimes used. If disciplinary measures fail, many owners choose to sell the slave. A recalcitrant slave has less value than an obedient one, however, and the more rebellious a slave is, the harder their life will be. Some owners decide to rid themselves of a troublesome slave as well as curry the favor of the Lord of Mordor by offering up their unwanted baggage as sacrifices.'"

"'Sacrifices?' I asked, confused and frightened.

"'In times of great celebration, or times of great need, the Lord of Mordor calls for sacrifices to be made,' Esarhaddon explained, taking great relish in tormenting me with this dreadful knowledge. 'Blood must be spilled upon the altar to appease the Giver of Gifts, and He cares not if the sacrifice is innocent or guilty. Now I would never condemn one of my own slaves to such a fate, but not all masters are as lenient as me."

"So the rumors are true then." Goldwyn's voice was a horrified whisper. "During the journey to Minas Tirith, I had heard the orcs speak of gruesome rituals that called for the shedding of blood, but I had hoped that their cruel taunts and threats were idle ones."

A low rumbling of voices rose up among the crowd as the women expressed their horror at the dire ultimatum which Waerburh had been given. "Did the slaver punish you for resisting him?" one of the women asked fearfully, gnawing her fingernails in suspense.

"No, thank the Gods." Waerburh closed her eyes, a shudder running through her body. "But he did not treat me as kindly as he had before, and I spent the rest of the night in fear for my life."

Her mind reeling from Waerburh’s account, Goldwyn pressed a hand to her pounding heart. "We must escape these barbarians before they drag us away to the Dark Land!"

"Aye, and quickly!" Waerburh nodded tearfully. "Who knows what evil fate will befall us in that dread place!"