Shakh Esarhaddon had assigned Nobo to give Goldwyn a tour of his lavish home, a task which had taken the latter part of the morning and the first half of the afternoon. The Chamberlain soon discovered that the lady was in a foul mood because Esarhaddon had named her as his concubine, a position which she despised. For the first part of the tour, Nobo decided to show her the interior of the villa. He brought her to the quarters of Esarhaddon's wives, where Shumeeren and Anúrnissa welcomed her and gave her a tour of their rooms. Their quarters were much like those assigned to Goldwyn, although they were filled with homey touches which showed the personalities and interests of the two women. The crimson-trimmed walls of Shumeeren's parlor had been painted with vibrant frescos depicting hunters using falcons to capture small game, while the pastel bordered walls of Anúrnissa's chamber were adorned with frescos depicting gardens filled with blooming plants and merry songbirds. The couches and cushions in Shumeeren's parlor had been upholstered in hues of scarlet, flame, and midnight black, and a carpet of similar fashion covered the floor. Anúrnissa's parlor was light and airy, with soft golden divans and carpets, delicately painted vases of fresh-cut flowers, and a variety of potted plants. Perched upon a wooden stand near the large bay window, an elaborately wrought birdcage housed three finches. In Anúrnissa's bedroom, an intricately carved cradle had been situated near the bed, awaiting the birth of her first child. Shumeeren's sleeping quarters were dark and moody, the walls adorned with tapestries depicting the Lord of Mordor in His ancient splendor, with eyes of fire and hair of flaming auburn.

While Goldwyn did nothing to antagonize Esarhaddon's two wives, she was not exactly friendly either, regarding them with icy indifference. Bidding farewell to Shumeeren and Anúrnissa, Nobo showed Goldwyn the common areas which had been set aside for the use of Esarhaddon's family – a dining hall, a library, courtyards and atriums, and rooms for guests. Most newcomers to the villa were impressed by the beautifully appointed rooms, but the Northern woman maintained a stony face throughout the tour.

Undaunted by Goldwyn's resolute apathy, Nobo brought her to the School of Industry, where she could observe the students hard at work and see a sampling of the many subjects and trades offered at the school. He spent much time with her there, allowing her to sit in on each class for as long as she liked. "In addition to being trained as chambermaids, artisans, or entertainers, students are taught how to read and write, how to solve basic mathematical equations, the history of the world, and the traditions and customs of Mordor," Nobo explained after they had visited the last classroom. He wished that he could have spent more time showing the lady around the school, but it was time for the noonday meal. "The House of Huzziya is famed for well-trained slaves, and the Mordorian nobility pay highly for such valuable merchandise. Some even send their own slaves to the School of Industry, reimbursing the cost of their tuition, room and board."

That statement seemed to infuriate the Northern woman. "Everything here has the taint of Mordor upon it!" she spat out angrily. "I have seen enough of this so-called place of learning where the students are taught to be obedient thralls for the Lord of Mordor, and freedom is stamped out beneath lies taught as truths, endless repetitious tasks, and the constant threat of punishment. Not only would the Tyrant make us toil as His slaves, but He would ensnare our minds as well!"

Nobo took her by the arm and swiftly led her from the School of Industry. "My lady, you do not know what you are saying." He was glad that most of the students had already left for the noonday meal, and few had overheard her outburst. "Perhaps you will feel better after you eat." He wondered why Shakh Esarhaddon had ever taken this woman into his home. Her foolish babblings could get them all killed!

Nobo returned Goldwyn to the harem where she could take the noonday meal with Shumeeren and Anurnissa. Grateful for the brief reprieve, the Chamberlain felt the heavy weight of duty fall upon his shoulders once more when he returned to collect Goldwyn for the rest of the tour. At least they would be outside. The Northern woman's surly attitude was so oppressive that it could overpower an entire room, and her ill-conceived condemnations of the land of Mordor and its Lord seemed to echo off the walls like the reverberations of a discordant drum.

The afternoon was a beautiful one, with the melodic sounds of birds and cicadas in the air, and a gentle breeze to stir the sweltering heat of late summer. As they walked, Nobo told Goldwyn about Shakh Esarhaddon's estate. The wealthy merchant lord's holdings were relatively small compared to the massive estates for which Nurn was famous, and most of the livestock and crops raised on his land went to feed the members of his household, the students and staff at the School of Industry, and the various workers who kept the villa running smoothly.

Nobo decided to show Goldwyn the stables first, for he understood that the people of Rohan revered horses. Although she seemed resolved to keep her face set in a perpetually stony expression, the lady did seem to enjoy watching the horses grazing in the pasture. The Chamberlain pointed out each horse, telling her its name and to which member of the household it belonged. Shumeeren had a smoky black gelding with a white blaze upon the forehead and two white feet, while Anúrnissa was the owner of a bay dun mare. Nobo pointed out his own horse, a wall-eyed sorrel gelding. The newest additions to the stables were the dapple gray mare Zûbardniz, whom Esarhaddon had given to his son Abaru, and the white mare that he had bought for Kabtu. There were other horses as well, but the finest beast, of course, was Esarhaddon's favorite mare, the chestnut Ka'adara, his Red Fox.

"Once life at the villa returns to its usual pace, Shakh Esarhaddon will take you to the market and buy you your own horse," Nobo told her.

Goldwyn scoffed at those words. "You mean that I am not to be kept under lock and key like a prisoner?"

Nobo knew that the lady was baiting him, trying to rile him with her act of passive rebellion. "Shakh Esarhaddon's women are free to leave the villa at any time they wish," he explained patiently, trying to avoid any unnecessary confrontations with the lady. "Shumeeren and Anúrnissa often go to the nearby village of Blûgund, which lies to the east of here. For short distances, they travel with only their maids in attendance, but for longer journeys, such as to Turkûrzgoi or Kuga Mos, they journey in the company of the household guards. Though the roads are frequently patrolled by the Mordorian Watch, one can never be too careful."

The stables were attached to an enclosed farmyard that housed a barn, granary, various storehouses, a kitchen, dining hall, bathhouse, and living quarters for the laborers. In the center of the yard was a well, where a slave was drawing a bucket of water. Chickens promenaded over the well-worn ground, taking dust baths and scratching for worms, and barn cats sunned themselves on the tops of walls or prowled in the shady interiors of buildings. Beside the farmyard was an enormous fenced-in garden which served to provide the villa with food. Many of the farm laborers were preparing vegetable beds for winter crops –onions, peas, carrots, beets, turnips, and greens. In the open fields beyond, cattle and sheep grazed together, and geese and ducks swam in a small pond which served to provide the livestock with water.

The overseer, a swarthy man with a barrel chest, and his petite wife, who was large with child, came out from a cottage built along the wall and bowed to Nobo and Goldwyn. "Welcome, most noble Chamberlain Nobo, and the highly esteemed Lady Goldwyn," the man simpered.

"I am giving the lady a tour of the villa, Master Gasham," Nobo explained.

"I will not keep you then," Gasham remarked. "I must attend to business in the fields."

Bidding the overseer and his wife farewell, Nobo took Goldwyn to the last place on the tour – the villa's cemetery. Situated at the northernmost corner of the estate, the burial ground was located at the top of a small knoll in a grove of cypress and cedar. A small octagonal tomb of white marble crowned with a domed roof stood in a clearing at the center of the grove. Along the foundations of the building had been planted stately white roses and other snowy flowers, along with mounded clumps of broad-leafed variated acanthus and other ornamental foliage plants. A small graveyard for slaves was located at a short distance from the tomb, the resting places of the dead marked by tall marble slabs and cylindrical columns. The monuments bore the names of the dead and an abbreviated account of their lives. A quiet sort of melancholy lay over the cemetery, which reposed peacefully beneath soft sunlight and dappled shadows.

"This is the tomb of Shakh Esarhaddon's family," Nobo explained as he unlocked the door to the mausoleum. The crypt was locked to discourage drunken laborers and vagrants from taking shelter there, as well as to prevent graverobbers from looting the valuables which had been buried with the deceased. Stepping inside a small anteroom, Nobo removed his shoes and gestured to Goldwyn to do the same. "As you should know by now, it is the custom in the South to remove one's shoes before entering a dwelling so that dust and dirt will be kept at bay. Since the tomb is the home of the dead, we also remove our shoes here as well."

Although Goldwyn removed her shoes, she hesitated in the antechamber, as though reluctant to enter the tomb. Smiling gently, Nobo beckoned her to follow him. "The Master's Second and Third Wives, Kulianna and Tiranna, are buried here, as well as his daughter, Uzalla, who died young." He gestured around at their surroundings. The interior of the tomb was well lit, for tall, arched windows let in the sunlight, causing patterns of shadow from the latticework grilles to be cast on the opposite wall. Three rectangular stone sarcophagi were housed within the mausoleum; the two larger coffins contained the bodies of Esarhaddon's deceased wives, while his daughter reposed in the smaller one.

"The Master's first wife, Ninashme, is not buried here. While traveling with her husband to Nurn, Lady Ninashme received a fatal bite from a carpet viper," Nobo remarked sadly. "Esarhaddon sent her body back to Harad, for he was a young man at that time, with no land to call his own. Years later, when he was awarded this estate, he had the tomb built shortly after the manor house was constructed."

"It reminds me of the tombs of Osgiliath, only smaller," Goldwyn admitted, looking around at the stark alabaster chamber.

"The architectural style is inspired by the tombs of the kings of the Northern Haradric kingdom of Harûnak, as well as the Númenórean-inspired mausoleums used by the rulers of Umbar," Nobo explained. "The people of the South and East are of great diversity and culture. Burial customs are varied, depending upon where the people live. To the west towards Umbar, many have adopted the tradition of embalming, and house the dead in finely wrought tombs. Amongst the nomads who roam and wander, the custom is to bury the dead in the earth, placing rocks over top the dirt to mark the grave. In other areas, the unpreserved bodies of the dead are kept upon stone biers in crypts, for some do not believe it right to put bodies in the earth. Others burn the dead upon pyres and place their ashes in urns, which are then kept in elaborate vaults, communal cemeteries, or shrines located in the family's home. Depending upon the wealth and station of the family, many inter their dead with gold and precious stones, jewelry, costly garments, perfumes and oils, food and drink, fine pottery, musical instruments, furniture, weapons, and other valuable treasures, so that the deceased will have use of these things in the afterlife. In some cultures, when a king or great lord dies, slaves and animals are sacrificed to serve their masters in the world beyond. There are even kings who command that their entire household join them in death, including their wives, concubines, and high-ranking servants."

"How barbaric!" Goldwyn cried, her face blanched with horror. "Sacrificing dozens of innocent people just because their king died is an abominable practice!"

"I assure you that Shakh Esarhaddon does not approve of these sorts of ritual sacrifices and mortuary rites," Nobo promised. "The people of his tribe, which is one of the largest and most powerful in Northwestern Harad, also share the same sentiment, and do not abide by such practices. Such unnecessary bloodshed turns a single death, which is always a sorrowful occasion, into a great tragedy."

"Well, at least Esarhaddon is not as cruel as some people in these miserable enemy lands," the haughty Northern lady muttered.

Ignoring that comment, Nobo decided to change the subject so as not to frighten Goldwyn's delicate sensitivities. "There has been too much grief at this villa as it is. Sadly, the tomb that Shakh Esarhaddon built was needed far sooner than he had ever expected, for his daughter Uzalla sickened and died from the Red Plague at the tender age of nine. Several of the graves in the slave cemetery belong to the children of servants who were also casualties of this terrible illness. After the ravages of the pox had passed, the Master's household still was not spared from the grim spectre of death, for Lady Kulianna succumbed to an illness of the breast the following year. Lady Tiranna, Shakh Esarhaddon's remaining wife, died in childbirth last year." The Chamberlain fell silent for a moment, respectfully honoring the dead women and children around them. "Now that you have seen all of the Master's estate, let us return to the manor house."

Ever since Lady Tiranna's death, Nobo often felt that there was a dark cloud hanging over the villa, sometimes barely perceptible, at other times heavy and oppressive. That shadow seemed deeper than ever these past few days, especially since the sudden passing of Mistress Miral from the School of Industry. While the Teacher of the Novices had never been involved with Esarhaddon, she had still been a valued member of the household, and her death was yet another tragedy in a long succession of tragedies and misfortunes. He wondered if this Northern woman would bring joy back to Esarhaddon's life, or if she would only increase his suffering. The Chamberlain feared the latter possibility was the one that would come to pass.

After the last class of the day, the students of the School of Industry were granted permission to visit the enormous garden which lay between the school and the manor house. Being given free rein to explore the garden was always a special privilege, for the grounds were much larger than the school courtyard. While its outer boundaries were marked by two low walls overgrown with climbing roses, the garden was still far more open than an enclosed courtyard, offering ample space to stroll about and explore, or to enjoy a moment in peaceful quietude, or to sit and talk in privacy with friends. The land around the villa gently sloped downhill towards the River Tornîn, giving one who stood at the northern end of the garden a clear view of the rolling fields and distant swamps beyond.

Elfhild and Elffled had been delighted by the school courtyard with its small trees and flowerbeds, but nothing could compare to the awe they experienced as they beheld the magnificence of the spacious garden. This enchanting place was a joy to the senses: a rainbow of flowers and foliage and fair trees brought pleasure to the eyes, the ears were regaled with the merry sound of splashing fountains and the cheerful song of birds, and the nose was caressed by the scent of a multitude of fragrant blossoms. Gazing in wonder at their surroundings, the twins strolled along one of the garden paths.

"Never have I seen such loveliness," Elfhild murmured as her gaze lingered upon the large enclosed pavilion which had been constructed in the center of the garden. The exterior walls of the charming kiosk had been covered with tiles of alabaster and gold, and rose bushes surrounded its perimeter. "It makes me think of Elves, and the tales I have heard of their fair but perilous realms." Her eyes widening, she paused beneath a large oak tree and turned to her sister. "Do you think that any Elves live in this land?"

Elffled tilted her head to the side, musing upon the question. "I thought that elves lived in forests, not farmland or deserts. And I understand that the Lord of Mordor has little love for elves, so I doubt that any would willingly call Nurn their home."

There was a slight rustling in the tree branches far above them, but when they glanced up, they saw nothing in the leafy foliage. They waited for a few moments, listening, but all they heard was the chirping of birds perched in the trees growing in the courtyard.

"I swore I heard a noise," Elfhild remarked, gazing uncertainly up into the branches.

Elfhild shrugged. "Maybe it was a squirrel."

The twins began to walk away when a disembodied voice from above stopped them in their tracks.

"Ooooo… I am an evil elf, with gleaming white eyes and sharp fangs, and I am going to eat you! Ooooo!"

Whirling around, Elfhild and Elffled craned their necks to see a small boy perched upon a high branch. They recognized the child as Kabtu, Esarhaddon's younger son, whom they had met that morning.

"Oh, be careful, you could fall!" Elffled exclaimed, surprised that such a little boy could climb so high.

Elfhild, who had always been frightened of heights, felt dizzy just looking up at the child. "Please come down now, and be very heedful of where you step!"

"Do not worry! I have a lot of experience at this," Kabtu assured them as he scurried down the tree as quickly as a squirrel. When he was back on the ground, he gave the twins an enormous gap-toothed smile. It was quite obvious that he wished to impress them with his climbing skills.

"Greetings, Master Kabtu." Elfhild bowed respectfully, uncertain how to address the child of a superior. She understood that she would be taught such things in the Mordorian Culture class, but the first lesson had focused on the history of the School of Industry, and not the complexities of social etiquette.

"Your names are Hild and Fleda, are they not?" When the twins nodded, the boy continued speaking. "I think you are both very pretty."

"Why, thank you, young master," Elffled replied with a blush and a giggle.

Elfhild smiled at the little boy's compliment. "You are a handsome fellow yourself."

Suddenly Kabtu looked back over his shoulder. "Did you hear that? My nurse is calling for me! She wants me to take a bath before the big feast tonight! Do not let her know I am here!"

Kabtu scurried off into the bushes and hid under a flowering shrub.

A worried expression upon her face, a plump woman of middle years trotted down the garden path. "Have you seen Master Kabtu?" she asked the twins, her voice breathless.

"I do not think so." Elfhild turned to her sister, winking mischievously. "Have you?" She knew she was disobeying her superiors, but helping a little boy hide from a bath was a harmless prank.

"I saw him earlier, but I have no idea where he could be now," Elffled remarked, playing along with her sister's deception. "He was playing over there, so perhaps he is still nearby." She pointed in the opposite direction from where the boy was hiding. The nurse thanked them and dashed off in that direction.

"Mistress Unna is such a bother," Kabtu grumbled as he came out of hiding. "She treats me as though I am a baby!"

"Young master," Elfhild knelt down in front of the boy, "perhaps you ought to let Mistress Unna find you, lest you get into trouble."

"I have better things to do than take a bath." Kabtu crossed his arms over his chest and gave a resolute nod of his head. "Now we are all going to play a game, but we need to go deeper in the garden where that silly nursemaid will never think to look for me."

Elfhild and Elffled exchanged glances, uncertain if they should obey the little boy or call for Mistress Unna. No one had yet explained to them what they should do under those circumstances, but as they looked into the little boy's pleading eyes, brown and luminous like a puppy eager to play, they could not turn him down.

"Young master, we will play games with you, but you soon must take your bath as your nursemaid commands," Elffled told him.

Kabtu's pudgy face lit up in a smile. "Since you found me, I will go count and then I can try to find you."

The little boy went to the nearby oak tree, closed his eyes, and started counting loudly. Their hearts pounding, the twins scurried off to find hiding places. They had not really had time to explore the garden, so the rush to find good spots to hide was more of an exploratory mission for them. As they dashed down the path, a group of their fellow students looked at them in confusion, but they paid them no heed. Elfhild crouched down in some bushes which were growing near a large evergreen tree, and Elffled hid herself behind a flowering shrub. How strange it seemed to be engaged in such a simple, innocent pursuit as playing hide and seek with a child!

It was not long before the twins heard Kabtu's announcement of "Here I come!" Elfhild and Elffled waited with breathless anticipation in their respective hiding places, trying to remain as still as possible. Only a short time passed until Kabtu found them. Hoping for a challenge, he seemed disappointed with his success, but he had far more familiarity with the garden than they did. "We will have to play again," he announced enthusiastically.

"No, you will not!" another voice exclaimed, and the twins turned to look as Abaru approached, flanked by Mistress Unna.

"Time for your bath, young master," Mistress Unna reminded him, walking over to stand by his side.

"There is plenty of time to bathe before the feast," Kabtu protested. "Anytime I enjoy myself, someone has to come along and ruin it! I ought to be able to decide what I want to do and when I want to do it!" Petulantly he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Young master," Mistress Unna spoke up, "your father thinks it best that you have your bath at this time, for the feast is this evening. There can be no arguing with him. Now come along, Kabtu, and let us get this matter over."

"Brother, it will do you no good to protest." Abaru could not hide the amusement in his voice. "Now go along!"

"I do not like it, but I suppose I will have to. Good evening, Hild and Fleda." Grumbling to himself, Kabtu sulked away with the nursemaid, angrily kicking a pebble as he stomped along the path.

Abaru watched as his brother walked away, and then he turned back to Elfhild and Elffled. "I do hope that Kabtu was not pestering you too much. He can be quite vexing at times."

"Oh, no, Master. I assure you that Kabtu was no bother at all." Elfhild lowered her head respectfully. For the briefest of moments, she had felt as though she were back in the Mark, playing with her cousin Hunig. It had been so long since she had heard a child's carefree laughter, and the sound brought her great joy. On the journey, laughter and loud talking had been discouraged, for the captives were always to maintain a respectful quiet around their superiors.

"While my father formally introduced all of the new students to the family, I would like to extend my own welcome to the two of you." His light tan skin darkening with a bashful flush, Abaru shifted uncertainly from one foot to the other.

"Thank you, Master Abaru." Sensing the boy's shyness, Elffled gave him a gentle smile. "It is good to feel welcome, especially when one hails from a foreign land."

"We are very grateful to your father for deeming us worthy to attend the School of Industry. He has provided an opportunity for us to learn to read and write and do many other fine things." Elfhild hoped that she did not sound too ingratiating in her attempts to make a good impression upon her master's son.

Abaru seemed to tense, as though some heavy matter weighed upon his mind. "I – I hope the journey to Nurn was not too harsh." His voice, halting and uneven, was filled with unspoken apology. "I know that the soldiers of Mordor can be cruel at times, and the caravan guards ungentle."

Elffled's smile turned wry, and she had to suppress a bitter chuckle at the thought of this cossetted merchant's son clumsily attempting to apologize for untold atrocities. She gave him a scrutinizing look; the boy appeared to be around fourteen, the same age as her younger brother, Eadfrid. Though he was lanky and lean, he looked healthy and well-fed. She doubted he knew much about life, or the cruelties of fate.

"The journey is in the past," she told him with a casual shrug of her shoulders. "This is the present."

Chattering amongst themselves, a group of apprentices passed by them, leaving the walkway and treading on the grass to avoid disturbing the conversation. "You know, we are blocking the path," Abaru remarked, looking off to the side and awkwardly rubbing his neck. "Let us find another place to talk." After leading the twins over so many paths that the garden seemed a maze, he finally brought them to a large open square. An artificial stream fed into a goldfish pond which was flanked by stone benches and shaded by planes and cypresses. The boy sat down, and with a wave of his hand, he invited the twins to come join him.

"This is one of my favorite places. Sometimes I come here just to look at the fish, and to sit and think," he told them, watching how the sun reflected off the fishes' golden scales. "My father poured a small fortune into creating this garden, and he is very proud of it. When the flowers are blooming in the spring, he invites his friends and important people to see it."

"The garden is very beautiful, Master," Elfhild spoke up, knowing that it would be wise to compliment the boy with pleasant sounding words lest he tell his father she had been ungrateful for his tour.

"Thank you for showing us around." Elffled smiled politely. "This place is so large that one could almost get lost in it."

"Unfortunately, I no longer get to see this magnificent garden as often as I would like." When the twins looked at him uncertainly, Abaru clarified his statement, explaining his situation. "I serve an apprenticeship to Shakh Sandana, a wine merchant who dwells beyond the Thraqum Wood." He gestured vaguely towards the east, but the sprawling manor house blocked the view. "While the estate is less than a day's journey from here, I seldom travel to the villa, for my duties keep me occupied. I am here today and tomorrow to celebrate my father's return, but soon I will be returning to Shakh Sandana's estate to fulfill my duties."

"It must be difficult to be away from your family so long." At least his family was still alive, Elffled thought. He had not been taken hundreds of miles away from his home, driven ever onward by the constant threat of the lash.

Abaru sighed, his expression growing troubled. "I worry how Kabtu is faring in my absence. His mother – my aunt – died last year, and he has been very lonely and sad since then."

"I am sorry to hear that," Elfhild told him, her voice filled with sympathy.

Elffled thought of Hunig, who was close in age to Kabtu. She hoped that her little cousin's sorrows would be few here in the land of Nurn. Though no one knew if her father had survived the war, at least she still had her mother. "Death is always difficult for children, even if they do not truly understand it," she remarked gravely.

"How well I know." Shadows of an old sorrow flickered in Abaru's eyes. "When I was five, the villa was stricken by the Red Plague. I sickened from the illness – that is why my face bears these scars –" he pointed to the pock marks on his cheeks, "but I recovered. My older sister was not so fortunate." He paused for a moment, and the twins were about to express their condolences, but he interrupted them with an unexpected question. "How old are you?" His gaze went from one sister to the other.

Startled by the sudden change of subject, Elfhild and Elffled exchanged a glance of shared confusion before replying. "We are eighteen, Master," Elfhild told him.

Abaru's eyes widened. "The same age that Uzalla would have been had she not been taken by Death so soon." He looked at the twins as though seeing them for the first time. "She had golden hair like the two of you, though her locks were a darker shade, like acacia honey."

"I did not know that any of the Haradrim were blond," Elfhild blurted out, adding this bit of information to her growing repository of knowledge about the various peoples and lands of Middle-earth. Though the conversation had turned to somber topics, her curiosity had gotten the better of her, and she was compelled to say the first thing that had come to her mind.

"Lighter hair is uncommon, but not unheard of, especially in northwestern Harad," Abaru explained. "Many of the Númenóreans who settled in Umbar in ancient days had golden hair, and over time they mingled with the people from that region. So Uzalla had hair as gold as any maid from Rohan." He gave the sisters a wink and a charming grin.

It seemed that the merchant's son did know the cruelties of fate after all, Elffled mused to herself. As a child, he had survived a battle with a deadly and disfiguring illness, but lost his sister. And then there was the more recent sorrow of his aunt's death, and his concerns for Kabtu's welfare. "How old are you, Master?" she inquired, her voice gentle.

"I am fourteen."

Elffled felt a pang of sorrow deep in her heart. "Our brother, Eadfrid, was fourteen as well," she confided. "He rode off to war with our father back in the spring. That was the last that we saw of him." Her voice caught in her throat, and she swallowed against the tension.

"I am sorry. War is a terrible thing." Abaru shook his head sadly. "Perhaps your father and brother yet live."

"Nay, they perished in the war; I am certain of it," Elfhild stated, a proclamation of grim finality. "There was a terrible battle in Gondor, before the great city of Minas Tirith. Many men were slain there: men from the West, men from the South, men from the East. All united in death. To that ill-fated city my father and brother rode. I know in my heart they did not survive." She had no desire to speak of the visions she had beheld on the night she spent upon the battlefield, visions of how her father and brother had died at the hands of the barbaric orcs, beaten and mutilated, their heads hewn from their shoulders as bloody trophies.

"It was not my intention to bring either of you pain," Abaru remarked, deeply apologetic. "I am very sorry for what happened to your father and Eadfrid, and all of the woes that have befallen you. I – I hope that you will not hate Kabtu and me because of the war and the enmity between our two peoples." His dark, full brows knitted together with worry above his imploring brown eyes.

Attempting to alleviate the boy's concerns, Elffled gave him a kindhearted smile. "Neither you nor your brother have done anything to harm us, so we have no reason to hate you."

Abaru breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing. "Oh, good! Then we can be friends. That is – if you would like that." He looked at her hopefully, his eyebrows raised.

"Of course, we will be your friends." Elfhild cast a glance at her sister, who nodded in agreement.

"Having friends is a great boon in a new and unfamiliar place," Elffled remarked, smiling. She reflected upon the similarities that she shared with Abaru. The earnest young Haradric boy was the same age as her brother Eadfrid, and she was the same age as his late sister Uzalla. A strange coincidence, probably one which meant nothing. Or perhaps it did. Who could tell? She did know that she was grateful to have made the acquaintance of Esarhaddon's sons. Her goal was to survive, and Abaru and Kabtu might prove to be worthy allies in this strange land.

As the sun sank into the western horizon, the villa roared to life with music and light. Everyone, from the lowliest cowherd to the highest-ranking butler, was eager to celebrate Esarhaddon's return, and even those who had little love for their master rejoiced at the excuse to get drunk. In the laborers' hall, the farmhands, stable grooms, and menial servants dined upon generous rations and ample quantities of beer. After they had their fill of food, a great bonfire was built in a nearby field which had been left fallow for the season, and the servants danced and drank with wild abandon. In the great hall of the School of Industry, the teachers and students gathered for a magnificent feast, which was followed by a brief skit put on by the theatre class. After the meal and entertainment were over, a trio of musicians began to play and the students took turns dancing to a series of lively melodies. The grandest of the celebrations was held in the manor house, and Esarhaddon felt like a king as he looked over the glorious spread of scrumptious dishes and desserts which had been placed upon the long, low table before him. His family surrounded him, all dressed in their finest tunics and gowns for the joyous occasion. The school's dancing troupe, accompanied by the most talented scholars who were enrolled in the music class, performed feats of athleticism and grace that caused all to gasp and cheer with wonder and delight.

In the darkened corridors of the School of Industry, the music which emanated from the great hall was muffled and subdued, the strings of a hammered dulcimer sounding like the patter of rain upon a roof as they were struck by the musician's mallets, the beat of the drums like the distant rumble of thunder. The lanterns which lined the walls flickered and wavered, causing shadows to dance and play against the ever-shifting amber glow of the flames cast by the lamps. In the places between the halos of lantern light, the shadows were deep and thick, spreading across the floor in umbral bands. All of the students and teachers were enjoying the festivities in the great hall, and so no one saw the woman float down the hallway like a feather caught in an errant breeze, her faintly iridescent form glowing softly in the darkness and fading to transparency in the light. Still she was there, a quiet presence, watching over all those who resided within her domain, just as she had done in life.