32. Revelations

The surface of the palantír brightened again, showing a picture that wasn't there before. Aragorn watched it so intently he almost forgot about the presence of other mind in the palantír.

He saw a dim room. A gang of seven men danced in the light of a few candles, in the thick smoke of incense. Their eyes were unfocused, their movements like those of a madman, but still there was a strange and remarkable coordination in the dance. Onions and blackberries lay upon a coarse table in the middle of the room, arranged with a precise nicety right next to cut out snake tongues. A liquid was boiling in the skin of some animal. No, it was not water. One would even say it's the boiling liquid that glows in the dim room. It was thick and red, almost like tomato soup.

Then… the dance stopped suddenly.

He saw Arwen's necklace. It was an intricate pendant in the shape of two birds, that he gave her himself as a gift for the anniversary of their betrothal. It was submerged in the poison.

Aragorn shivered, and wanted to run away from the palantír immediately as he realized that even now, Arwen still had that necklace around her neck.

"Wait!" Sauron stopped him sharply. "You do not know where they are!"

"I don't need to know that!" he retorted. "I must remove the necklace, right now!"

"That will not help…" Sauron said regretfully.

On that, Aragorn returned to the palantír. "What are you not telling me?" he asked sharply.

"I'm telling you everything, you just don't want to listen," Sauron retorted. Then he continued more calmly. "It will be of no help to remove the necklace now. What you need is an antidote. And only they can give it to you."

"Who are they?"

Sauron hesitated with an answer. "They are… Umaswadi," he said finally.

"Who?"

"Poisoners. I believe you saw one of their poisons at work before…"

The memory of Bregor's death returned with disturbing clarity. Aragorn rubbed his temples tiredly. "Maybe... But they did not look like those you have showed me…"

"Oh, those were just simple robbers. The Umaswadi sold them poisoned arrows."

Aragorn bit his lip. "Were they meant for me?"

"No," Sauron laughed shortly, mirthlessly. "I did not know who you are in that time, nor did they. They were just meant for any Dúnadan, as some rumours told that the Heir of Isildur is among them," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, as if talking about someone else.

"So they served you!" Aragorn exclaimed.

"Once, yes. They served me… they still think they do."

"And they don't?"

"They serve just a memory… believe just what they want to…" there was bitterness in Sauron's voice. "Even if I would speak to them, they would not believe me."

Aragorn was quiet for a moment, realizing the truth in Sauron's word. He would not believe he is speaking to Sauron if he would not recognize the touch of his mind. Without the Ring, he was different…

"But I need to speak with them. Where are they?"

"Here…" was the surprising answer.

Aragorn wanted to ask what he means, but in that moment, steps sounded on the staircase. He turned sharply, but the door did not open. The person behind them knocked. Not slammed the door open as he half-expected, but knocked… He placed a hand on his dagger.

"Come in!" he called.

The door opened, and Aragorn breathed a sigh of relief when not one of the Umaswadi entered, but his Steward Elboron.

"My lord," he bowed, and there was urgency in his voice that made Aragorn tense again. "There is some man in the throne room, claiming he has a cure for the Queen. He wants to speak to you in private, and refuses to tell anything to anybody else."

Aragorn cast a quick look at the palantír – its surface was dark and dead now – before replying. "Tell him I will grant him an audience… here."

Elboron's look was confused, but he did not gainsay his king, knowing time is precious. He bowed and wanted to leave, but Aragorn stopped him: "And Elboron! Make sure somebody removes the Queens's necklace! Do not touch it, though!"

The Steward paused at that, but then he nodded and hurried down the stairs.

Aragorn remained alone. He took a deep breath. He wished he would have taken his sword with him – he only had his dagger… He looked into the palantír again, but it was dark and quiet. He sighed, wondering if he did well to choose this place, but it was too late to change it now. He straightened and forced himself to appear calm when the door opened. A guard opened them, and then stepped aside, allowing a man to enter the room.

Aragorn did not speak, waiting for the other to begin as the door closed. They faced each other – a King and a man in dirty robes. Aragorn recognized him – he was one of those he saw creating the poison, in some ritual to please the false image of a Lidless Eye. He did not let anything show on his face, though. He waited, wondering if the only chance to save Arwen stands before him, wondering what the man will demand.

"I have heard the Queen has been ill of late…" the man began, but Aragorn's patience ran out at that.

"She has been poisoned," he said coldly, "by you."

If the man felt any surprise at the revelation, he didn't let it show. "Ah… it seems we can go directly to the matter at hand. That will save us time, at least."

"So what do you want for the antidote?"

"Ah, the antidote…" the man looked at Aragorn slyly. "What makes you think there is one? I certainly don't have it with me, you see…"

Anger shot from the king's eyes, and the man found himself retreating a few steps without even realizing it. "B-But I know where it is!" he stammered.

Aragorn froze. "Tell me."

Now the man smiled, realizing again his advantage. "Yes, I'm not that stupid at to bring it with me, so you can take it by force. Instead, I have something else…" Not leaving his eyes from Aragorn, he took out a little vial with dark-red liquid.

The king had an unpleasant feeling looking at it, but he didn't let anything show in his face. "A poison…" he stated evenly.

The Umaswadi nodded contentedly. "For you. Drink it, and I will tell you where the antidote is."

Aragorn couldn't say he didn't expect it. "If I drink it, it will be of no use to me."

"Oh, on the contrary! You will have 24 hours before the poison starts working. 24 hours of life to save the one you love. Am I not generous?"

The realization sank into Aragorn's stomach like a cold stone. He will do it. He knew he will do it for Arwen, but his rational mind was still trying to find a way out. "How can I know you will hold to your end of the bargain?"

The Umaswadi's eyes glistened. "You have my word… if I get yours that you let me leave safely." He smiled slightly. "I could just tell you the place when I get out of the city… But I will tell it to you now. I just ask your trust for mine. It's not much to ask from a man that's going to die, isn't it?" he smirked.

But the last words were too much. In a blink of an eye, Aragorn had the dagger placed at his throat, his stormy eyes clouded with anger.

The man gulped. "I… apologize," he stammered, but then gathered himself again. "But if you kill me, you will never know where the antidote is." When he felt the pressure of the dagger on his throat lessening, he sighed with relief. "You know my conditions."

Aragorn took a few steps back. He was quiet, not looking at the man. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"I accept," he said finally.