One day short of a fortnight had passed since Esarhaddon had returned to his villa. For the most part, life at the manor had resumed its usual pace, although there were still many matters that needed the master's attention. The merchant lord frequently traveled to Turkûrzgoi to tend to affairs of business concerning the House of Huzziya, returning late in the afternoon or early evening to tend to matters of home and family. That day, the first of September, was one that took Esarhaddon away to the city, and he had departed ere dawn that morning.

As the soft light of early morning spread over the Nurnian countryside, Anúrnissa sat near the shallow pool in the family garden and smiled as she softly hummed a song from her homeland. It had been a little over a year since she had bidden Kha'savay farewell and left Far Harad to be with her new husband, and though she was content with her new life, she still missed her old one from time to time. Two of her handmaidens, a pair of young girls who were barely in their teens, laughed and squealed as they waded in the shallow pool. Brushing aside the lotus pads, they gazed down into the water, hoping to catch a glimpse of a silver-scaled fish as it darted from under a disturbed plant. Sitting nearby upon a stone bench was Zamara, chief among Anúrnissa's handmaidens. She smiled indulgently at the two young girls as they splashed and played in the water.

Anúrnissa's handmaidens had served her in Kha'savay, and they had accompanied their mistress when she made the northward journey to Nurn. Although Anúrnissa was grateful for all of the friends and acquaintances she had made since becoming the wife of Esarhaddon uHuzziya, she treasured her handmaidens, for they reminded her of distant hearth and home. When in a foreign country, it was always a comfort to be in the presence of those from one's homeland.

The tranquility of the morning was broken by a sudden groan as Anúrnissa bent forward, clutching her middle.

"I think I should like to go inside now," she murmured, a pained expression upon her face.

"Are you feeling well?" Zamara asked, looking away from the girls at their play.

"Yes, I am well, but I think it best that I should go to my chambers," she replied as her fingers lightly skimmed over the protective bag of charms and amulet which hung about her neck. "That pain was sharper than the others I have experienced."

One of the maids squealed as she captured a small silver fish, trapping it between her hands. Giggling, she let the fish fall back into the pool and swim away.

"Time to go inside now, girls. You have played long enough." Zamara clapped her hands, and the two girls splashed out of the pool, dripping water on the pavement. When they saw the anxious expression upon Anúrnissa's face, they fearfully clustered around their mistress, but she soothed their worries with gentle words and a reassuring smile.

"Send a messenger to the village to fetch Azalla the midwife," Anúrnissa instructed Zamara after the maids had scampered away. "When she was here three days ago, she said that it was almost time for the baby to arrive, so she will be expecting this summons. Perhaps I fret unnecessarily, but it is wiser to be overly cautious than underly so."

Zamara nodded in agreement. "One can never be too careful." She lowered her voice and cast a cautionary glance around the garden to make sure they were alone. "Are you quite sure the shaman drove the evil spirits from your chambers when he was here?"

"That foul old devil!" she exclaimed, shooting Zamara a nasty look. "I would not be surprised at all if he invited a host of evil spirits into the household!"

The thought of giving birth to her first child terrified Anúrnissa, and so one day when Esarhaddon had been away in Turkûrzgoi, she had sent her handmaiden to the Thraqum Wood to consult with the shaman who dwelt in the forest. She had heard much about the enigmatic shaman and paid good coin to have him come to the villa to purify her home in preparation for the arrival of her child. However, when she had met the mysterious hooded figure and gazed into his gaunt face with its strange, glowing eye, she had been utterly terrified. No human had features that peculiar or skin that pale, ghastly white like bones bleached by the sun. He had spoken to her in riddles, making vague but ominous statements about her unborn babe. She had hoped to hear some comforting prophesy which would allay her fears, but the encounter with the shaman had left her more apprehensive than ever about the birth of her child.

"The only reason I ever summoned him here was because one of my friends in Blûgund had insisted." Anúrnissa sighed heavily. "While I knew that the shaman was one of the white-eyed fiends, I did not expect him to be so frightening!"

"It is said that he is a dark elf from olden days," Zamara remarked, her voice fearful.

"Oh!" Anúrnissa exclaimed, clutching her belly. "I think we are scaring the baby! Let us talk of happy things, not ancient elves who mumble and peep!"

Guli had spent the morning teaching the novices reading, writing, mathematics, and history. Although he had hesitations at first about becoming Teacher of the Novices, especially after the previous teacher's sudden death, he soon warmed to his new position. He had always been a talented storyteller, able to keep his audience enthralled as he regaled them with myths and legends. During the brief time that he had been Teacher of the Novices, he had filled the ears of his students with tales about the Great Lord Melkor and the Valar, and the constant strife that had existed between the Valar and the Servants of the Great One ere time itself began. Arda, which the students had learned was the name of the Entire World, had been sung into existence during the Music of the Gods. The Valar, being jealous of Melkor's song, kept trying to drown out His music with their own bland, repetitive melodies, and this created a horrible dissonance. From this great symphony the world was made, and many of the woes which Arda had suffered over the endless ages were caused by the selfishness of the Valar.

The lesson that day had been on the legendary elf Fëanor who created the Silmarils, the three magic gems which would shape the destiny of the whole world. After Guli dismissed the students to go to their next class, a servant told him of Anúrnissa's condition, and informed him that she had sent a messenger to fetch the midwife. His heart filled with concern for the Second Wife, he rushed to her chambers. He found her seated upon the divan, a glass of water clutched in her hand. Zamara and several other handmaidens waited nearby to tend to their mistress should she have need of them.

"Guli! How good of you to come!" Lady Anúrnissa exclaimed.

"It is always a pleasure to be in your presence, my lady," he told her, bowing low. "How are you faring?"

She gingerly rubbed over her stomach. "I believe that the babe is eager to escape his confines and explore the world."

Guli gave her a gentle smile. "The entire household eagerly awaits the arrival of the child. Is there anything that your servant can do to bring comfort to you this day?"

Anúrnissa thought a moment. "Tell me a story while I wait for the midwife. Something exciting, and I insist upon a happy ending!"

"Yes, Mistress, your wish is my command. Now let me think a while upon a story that meets both requirements," Guli replied.

Anúrnissa closed her eyes as a pain struck her. Groaning, she put her hand on the small of her back and leaned forward, a movement that brought all of her maids to her side, fussing and chattering.

"Please, my dear friends, do not be alarmed. I just had a little pain, but it is gone now. I am such a coward when it comes to any pain at all." Anúrnissa laughed weakly. "Guli, stand over there in the center of the room where everyone can see and hear you."

"Yes, Mistress," Guli replied as he strode to the center of the room, carrying his ponderous weight surprisingly well. For some time, he stood there, his expressive face thoughtful as he searched his mind for a story that would be both entertaining and ended happily. When he remembered a story he had recently read in One Hundred and One Tales of the South and East, his face was wreathed in a joyful smile.

"Lady Anúrnissa and her most honorable handmaidens, it is my great privilege and pleasure to recount to you this exciting tale from Harad." Guli bowed and then began his story:

"There was once an evil djinn who dwelt in a cave that was deep and dark with connecting caverns that went far under the mountains. One of the ancient spirits who came to Arda in the Beginning of Days, he feared no one and had bested any who had dared try to test him. Cruel and unscrupulous, he pounced upon innocent wayfarers and dragged them into his lair. Once in the foul creature's clutches, the poor traveler was forced to answer riddles. The beast would keep his victims alive as long as they could answer the riddles, but when they could not, he tortured them slowly until the life finally fled from them. There were none who came out of that cavern alive."

Guli paused in his tale and looked with sympathy into the eyes of Lady Anúrnissa. He could see that she was in pain, and he was moved to great pity and love for her. "If Mistress would prefer, I could come back in a few days after the child is born."

"Go on, dear Guli," Anúrnissa told him, reaching out a hand to touch his wrist. "I am very excited to hear your story, and pray take no heed of me. I am in some distress, but I do not believe the child will make an appearance for many hours yet."

"Guli wishes only to please and bring happiness to Mistress with his tales of the South."

"You do, kind Guli," the lady replied, and her servants nodded and murmured in agreement.

Guli smiled at his mistress' words, and after a polite bow, he resumed his story. "The djinn's mind was a morass of cruelty, and so he would ask the travelers the simplest of all riddles the first night they were there. Taking heart at quickly finding the answer to the simple riddles, the poor wayfarer would earn the right to live another night. Then with each succeeding night, the riddles became more difficult. The poor wretches who had survived for twenty-nine nights were asked the most difficult riddle on the thirtieth night. 'I will free you,' said the wicked spirit, his malevolent green eyes glowing, 'if you can do two things – answer my thirtieth riddle and baffle me with one of your own. If you defeat me, then I shall die, but if I defeat you, then you will die.'

"Hope, my listeners, when it is false, is the cruelest of all jests."

"Yes, yes," Anúrnissa and the handmaidens concurred, nodding their heads in agreement.

Guli continued. "So, gaining confidence from having successfully answered the twenty-nine riddles, the survivor often would be gloating that he could solve the last riddle, and so be spared the fate of death by torture.

"Once this cruel demon held a wealthy merchant, his servants, and his men-at-arms in his power. The merchant, though, was of great intellect and learning. His servants and warriors said that they were only ignorant men and could not match wits with so powerful a creature as the djinn. They begged the merchant to be their spokesman and answer the djinn's riddles for them all. The djinn was agreeable to that, believing that the merchant would be unable to answer the last riddle.

"When the thirtieth night came, the merchant rejoiced that he and his men yet lived. 'Tell me, O Great Djinn, what is the riddle?' the man asked, feeling confident.

"The djinn looked at him from his evil eyes, 'Tell me if you can what is it that moves on four legs in the morning, on two legs at noon, and on three legs in the evening?'

"The merchant prided himself on his abilities to solve riddles, but he was at a loss to answer this one. 'Is it a horse?' he asked. 'No,' laughed the djinn, certain that the men could not evade the evil fate that he had planned for them.

"'Listen, O Mighty Djinn, the answer is a horse!' the merchant insisted. 'In the morning when the horse is fresh and strong, he walks on all four legs; then at mid-day, he is lame on two of his legs, but his master puts him to stable for the afternoon, so thus at night he has regained the use of one of his legs and now hobbles on three.' The merchant was desperate, and though it was cool in the cave, perspiration had coated his brow.

"'Nay, you fool!' the djinn cried. 'You have lost! The answer is man!'

"'How can this be?' asked the merchant.

"'Simple, you fool! You and your servants have spent too long in your kiosks selling your wares to gullible townsfolk! Your warriors have had little challenge other than chasing brigands and thieves! The minds of all of you are weak and soft,' the djinn gloated as he cracked the knuckles on his great hands. 'I will make the explanation simple enough that even your feeble minds can comprehend it. When man is an infant, he crawls on all fours. Then, as an adult, he strides forth on two legs. When he is elderly, bent and in his dotage, he walks with a cane. These are his morning, noon, and evening!'

"At those words, the djinn laid his long taloned hands upon the merchant, his servants, and his warriors, and hung them all upon chains dangling from the top of his cave. Each day he subjected them to a new torture, but he would save the worst and most arduous for the last – the 'Torture of A Hundred and One Torments.' A week passed by and the merchant, his servants, and his men-at-arms still hung onto life, though some only barely. Each night brought tortures more horrible than the previous."

"Terrible beast!" cried the handmaidens. "Wicked and evil!"

The Lady Anúrnissa looked worried, fearing that the tale would not end happily. "Guli," she asked apprehensively, "is this all there is to the tale? A story about men being slowly tortured to death?"

"No, no, good Mistress! Guli will not tell you a sad story." Indeed, Guli would neither say nor do anything that might bring unhappiness to the Lady Anúrnissa, for he loved her greatly.

"Zamara, fetch a cup of juice and let our storyteller quench his thirst before he resumes telling his tale," the lady directed her handmaiden.

Guli looked to her in gratitude as he drank from his cup and continued the story.

"A few days went by and a lord and his retinue passed by the cave. Soon they, too, found themselves prisoners of the djinn. Confined in one of the many chambers of the cave, they lived on a diet of scraps from the djinn's table. Each night, they faced the doubtful prospects of answering his riddles.

"Then one day, two beauteous daughters of a peasant chanced to walk by the djinn's cave on their way to the bazaar. About their shoulders, they had packs that contained lovely shawls, beaded table hangings, intricately embroidered table linens, and many other crafts that they had made with their own hands.

"The djinn looked out the mouth of his cave and thought, 'Aha, what do I have here!' Then he rushed out and laid hold upon the two frightened girls, dragging them deep into the recesses of his cave. All about them they saw the poor merchant and his men as they writhed in their tortures – some upon racks, others hanging suspended over braziers of burning wood. One fell orc, a servant of the djinn, was just placing pokers in a fire, getting the cruel devices heated to the highest temperature before he held them sizzling on the unfortunate men's feet.

"'Sit down,' the djinn laughed, 'and enjoy the comfort of my cave!'

"'We do not want to stay in this odious place!' the maidens cried. 'Please let us go free and release these poor men whom you hold captive! '

"The djinn thought them very beautiful, and considered that he might keep them to share his bed. Still, he would have some sport with them before he made them his concubines. 'I will free you if you can do two things – answer all thirty of my riddles and then ask me one of your own that I cannot answer,' he promised.

"The eldest of the two sisters, a girl of tender heart, replied, 'If we are successful, I beg a boon, O Dreadful Spirit!'

"'What is it?' he asked. 'If it is in my power, I will grant it to you.'

"'If my sister and I can answer all your riddles and baffle you with one of our own choosing, will you free both us and these poor prisoners?'

"The djinn was confident that no one could answer the thirtieth riddle, and even if they did, he doubted that he could fail to answer a question asked of him by a mortal. The djinn had to control himself to keep from laughing. What a preposterous idea! How could two young, naïve maidens possibly best him when so many wise men, scholars and sages had failed? So certain was he that he would win that he agreed to the bargain.

"'Answer all of my riddles correctly, and if I fail to answer yours, I will free all of you and send you on your way.'

"'It is a bargain,' the elder sister replied, and her sister nodded in accord.

"The djinn treated the sisters well and gave them commodious lodgings in his cave. Since he was a creature of great magic powers, the two sisters had only to ask of him for some good thing to eat or drink and it would magically appear before them served on golden plates and vessels. He created garments and veils for them of gold and silver thread and bedecked them as brides-to-be. Many were the necklaces, headdresses of golden coins, rings, bracelets, and brooches of quality as good as that of the elven jewelsmiths. He summoned forth through his magic a great huge bed and placed it in his private chambers, ready for the thirtieth night when he would claim them.

"The twenty-nine nights passed, and the maidens were able to answer all his riddles. With each day the wicked spirit fell more deeply in love with both sisters. The djinn was loath to part with them, becoming obsessed with their beauty, their gentle natures, and their lovely voices."

Guli paused as he drank another cup of fruit juice and ate a sweet cake. His gentle eyes grew alarmed when Anúrnissa bent over double in another painful spasm.

"Do not fret so about me," Anúrnissa softly murmured when the pain had subsided. "Go on with your tale, Master Storyteller."

"The thirtieth night was upon them when the wicked djinn took the two sisters into the great cavern where the men were being tortured. They looked to the maidens, hoping these two lovely village maids might be their deliverers. The merchant had lost all hope and thought that his men were fools to place their hopes upon two frail maids. 'False hope is a deceiver, but how we cling to it when we have nothing else,' he thought. The merchant had been thoroughly bested by the djinn, and his pride had been wounded, for he was a lover of riddles and had many books in his hall filled with riddles and anagrams, puzzles and mazes. He had not been able to answer the thirtieth riddle, and he was certain that neither of the two maids could be successful where he had failed.

"The djinn sat upon a great jewel-encrusted throne in the dim chamber. Torches gleamed brightly from sconces set along the cavern's walls. He had donned a costly scarlet robe with gold embroidery which hung to his ankles. Costly boots were upon his feet, and all his fingers were bedecked with sparkling, jeweled rings. As the orcs turned great spits of meat over a glowing red fire, the fat hissed and sizzled, dripping into the coals, and the smell of cooking meat filled the chamber. The djinn inhaled the fragrant odors and smiled. So certain was he of victory that he had already set the preparations for his wedding feast into motion.

"He looked at the two sisters from his great green eyes, his cruel visage somewhat softened by the love he felt for the maids. 'You have correctly answered twenty-nine riddles. Now there is one more to go. Answer me this riddle,' he spoke smugly, 'and this will grant you the right to ask me one.'

"'Great Dread Spirit, will you truly free us if we answer this last riddle and are able to baffle you with one of our own?'

"'I give my word, and I will not break it,' he answered, sure in the knowledge that he would be the victor. 'Tell me if you can what is it that moves on four legs in the morning, on two legs at noon, and on three legs in the evening?' He asked them the same riddle that had baffled all the others.

"Both girls looked puzzled, and set their fingers prettily to their lips in consternation. Their expressions were so adorable that they endeared themselves to the djinn even more.

"'My Lord Djinn,' the elder said, 'this is most difficult to answer, but I think I know the solution. Is this creature man?'

"A great sour look came over the djinn's face and he wrinkled his forehead and puckered his lips as though he had tasted some solution of hideous acid. 'Yes!' he bellowed angrily and rose from his throne as though to strike them, but because of his love for the girls, he sat back down. 'But you cannot ask me one that I will be unable to answer!' he boasted. 'I know the answers to all! Am I not a great djinn, fearsome and awe-inspiring in my great power?'

"'O yes, Great Djinn,' the elder sister agreed as both girls bowed to him. 'But my younger sister might have a riddle that will puzzle even so great a Power as you!'

"'Come forward then, you who are the younger, and ask me the riddle!' he boomed.

"The maiden walked to his throne and knelt before him. 'Great and Mighty Lord Before Whom All Creatures Quail, I beg your indulgence, for my riddle is contained in a story. You must listen to all of the riddle, and then give me the answer to the dilemma posed.'

"'I will listen to your story, lovely maid,' he told her, his eyes softening in love.

"'But Great Master,' she replied shyly, 'I fear I cannot do full justice to the tale unless you release these poor men, if only for a time, from their chains.'

"'I will agree to this,' he replied, for he indeed did love both the girl and her sister. 'Let the tension of their chains be lessened and turn the windlass so the racks do not wrench the flesh so much. Those who roast upon the coals – move them away, but,' he growled, 'as soon as the tale is told, return them to their fetters!'

"The maiden began her story, and the djinn and his orcs listened in rapt attention," Guli went on. "This," he said, "is the tale she told to the wicked djinn.

In the Northern Haradric kingdom of Harûnak, there lived a poor young man, an artist who had dedicated his life and soul to his love of portraiture. Though he was a painter of some renown, he was not wealthy, for painters seldom are.

One day he was in the marketplace when he heard that couriers had been sent throughout the land, telling of a great commission that the king was offering to any who could draw a grand portrait to hang in his hall. The prize would be a weighty purse of gold.

The king, though, was both avaricious and mad. Even when an artist submitted to him a painting that he liked, the king would oft as not order his servants to drive the man away with sticks and harsh words whilst he kept the painting and the artist received no payment.

The young artist spent long days trying to decide what the subject of this wondrous work would be. He went to his friend, a man of far greater means than he, who maintained among the bookshelves of his library many ancient volumes of lore. He labored long hours reading in the good man's library, and searched for a majestic tale that he could put on canvas.

His heart and mind were greatly moved at the tales of the elves of the ancient days. By flickering candlelight, he spent hours taking notes of the great history of the Eldar. When he was satisfied that he had found at last the subject of the painting, he thanked his friend and sat out for his small lodging to begin the preliminary sketches.

When at last he had completed the painting, he wrapped it in a cloth and tied it about with cord, and then he set off for the king's hall. After a wait of five days, he was at last admitted to see the king and his lords.

When they saw his poor, tattered garments, they all laughed him to derision. When at last their scornful laughter had subsided, the young man spoke. "My lords, I beg forgiveness for my humble garments, for I am but a poor man and put what funds I have into paint, canvas and brushes. While my dress is of little value, perhaps you will find merit in my work." With that, he untied the cords from around the cloth and unveiled it for all to see.

The men gasped in surprise at the great beauty that was revealed to them, and many stroked their beards as they apprised it, all concluding that the work was a masterpiece.

"What was the subject of the painting?" the djinn asked, greatly interested, the orcs echoing his pleasure.

"The scene in the painting showed the last desperate moment of Fingolfin's life. The artist's brush stroke was true, and as though by magic he had unfolded the terrible moment when Melkor crushed Fingolfin into the earth with His mace," the maiden replied.

"Then did the artist receive a purse?" the djinn asked.

"'Yes, my Lord Djinn, but the artist had to do some mental battling of his own to gain it."

"What do you mean, maid? I am intrigued."

The girl continued her story.

The artist saw the look of covetousness in the king's eyes, and he despaired of being rewarded what was rightfully his. He determined in his mind upon a plan. The artist knew that the king fancied the art of riddling more than any other, so he set him this dilemma: "My Lord the King, I ask no reward for my painting, and I will give it to you to honor my fealty." The king was greatly pleased at this and thought that he had gained a great masterpiece of work for free.

"The great king's face fell, though, when the artist put out this challenge to him: "My lord," the artist stated, "the painting is yours, but now I will sell you a riddle. If you deem it worthy of reward, I will take the bag of gold."

The king was amazed at the boldness of the poor artist. "I agree to your challenge," he said, "with my lords and my knights as my witnesses. What is your riddle?"

"My liege, I thought the face of Fingolfin should be a noble one, but I thought I had not the talent to portray him through a mere imagining of my own mind. Thus I sought out faces noble and grand, dignified, just and brave until I had found one that I thought would express the worthiness of Fingolfin's visage. Lend me a servant to hold the painting and I will give you the riddle." A young page was summoned and held the painting before the king and his shakhs as the artist pointed to features of the work.

"A man whom I know posed for the face and body of Fingolfin," the artist continued. "My lord, the identity of the model can be learned by solving this riddle." He pointed to the image of the elf king.

"Brothers and sisters I have none, but this man's father is my father's son. Who," the artist asked, "served for the portrait of Fingolfin?"

The king's chief advisor rose from the royal dais and walked down to get a closer view of the portrait, and gazed intently at the painting. Turning back to the king, he remarked, "I am baffled, my lord." Other lords and knights inspected the painting closely and they, too, were perplexed.

"Bring the painting before me," the king commanded, and though he peered at it first one way and then another way, he at last admitted that he was bewildered as to the identity of the model.

"Tell me the answer, artist, and you shall have your bag of gold! Who posed for this work of art?"

"The answer, sire, is in the riddle. Brothers and sisters I have none, but this man's father is my father's son," he explained. "Incline your ear towards me, my liege, and I will tell you the answer."

"'The artist whispered the answer into the king's ear,' the maiden told the djinn. 'Do you know the answer, O Powerful Spirit?'

"The djinn sputtered and muttered, and scratched his head in perplexity.

"'Then I have you, do I not, Dark Spirit?' the maiden probed, feeling sure that she had bested him.

"The captives waited in fearful anticipation, hoping that the evil djinn was outwitted. 'Yes, you have me!' he shrieked as he began spinning wildly upon his throne.

"'Great Djinn, do you not want to hear the solution to the riddle?' the maiden smugly asked him.

"The djinn kept spinning, faster and more wildly, until his form began turning into smoke. 'Yes!' he shrieked. 'What is the answer?'

"'The answer, Great Djinn, is that the model for the painting was the artist's own son. The explanation is thus,' she told him while the smoke turned and swirled as the djinn spun at a dizzying rate. 'It is all in the way that the riddle is worded. When the artist said, 'Brothers and sisters I have none,' then 'my father's son' would be himself, so the artist was saying that this man's father was himself; he is the father of the man in the painting. There you have it,' she told him as she folded her arms across her chest and watched in smug satisfaction as the djinn and all of his orcs disappeared in billowing clouds of steam.

"The two sisters freed all the prisoners from their fetters, and as the men cheered her, they picked up both the maidens and hoisted them upon their shoulders, carrying them triumphantly outside the cave. The lord, having fallen in love with the older sister, wed her soon after, and the merchant, a widower, married the younger sister, and for the rest of his life, they showered all their love and treasures upon them."

Guli beamed at Anúrnissa. "Do you see, Mistress, that Guli would not tell you anything that would bring sadness to your heart? Do you like my story?"

"Oh yes, dear Guli," Anúrnissa answered. "I always love your stories, but the pains have come upon me once again, far stronger than they have been before!"