[Amanaduial the archer]

"Roryn is right. And he has been quite as hostile towards myself and Roryn as we have thought towards him. Crystal, you say you have lived many years in the company of 'such a man'; let me tell you all now that I have lived many years more than that, and most fighting. Ferethor, do not assume we know so little in these matters: the fact he is Haradrim has some weight, indeed, but that is not a 'why' to the matter so much as an 'and'. What would you have us do? Ignore the growing threat because he is an Easterling? Have some exaggerated sense of forgiving because he is different? Maybe, but I see you give nothing such to any of the others, and we are hardly a conventional company: a retired ranger, a swordswoman on the run, a lady of Gondor with a thirst for blood. Why, even you yourself, Ferethor - a Gondorian soldier who broke into the archives and threatened another soldier." Atharen's voice was quite low and seemed moderately mild as he spoke, but Ferethor flushed angrily at this.

"I was not the one to threaten him, ranger - it was you who held the left-tenant at sword, so-called 'protecter of Gondor', 'kin to the King'-"

"I am both of those things, and you know it, Ferethor," came the sharp reply, Atharen's voice rising a little. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roryn glance at him. He continued, his voice lower, "Besides, I doubt the Gondorian authorities would see it that way in your case, Ferethor - which is all the more reason we must stick together and complete this quest. Without completion, we have no explanation, and without that no forgiveness - I address this to you mainly, Ferethor, not as a hostile threat but as a warning to you," he added, his tone more sincere. "He is too young to recognise my face easily in Gondor, but that soldier knew you, I know it. He recognises you. We must complete this quest for that reason if none other."

Turning away, not wanting to continue this in case it developed into a full blown fight, Atharen nodded curtly and turned away to look over the water.

"And what of you, Atharen?"

The voice was quite unfamiliar, not one Atharen had heard at a normal volume more than once or twice, but Atharen recognised the slightly harsh tone, actually quite like his own, as the accent of the Far South. It was Carathir who spoke. He turned slowly.

"What of me, Carathir?" he said civily, his eyes meeting Carathir's equally dark ones, the latter seeming filled with zeal and smoulder and memory for the ranger...

"You did not mention yourself. The other ranger, Crystal, Ferethor, Lady Il Galoth..." he marked them off on his fingers, then clicked them. "But not you. What makes you so difference, Atharen?"

There was something vaguely menacing about Carathir's words although they seemed harmless, civil, calm. Atharen wondered if the others or noticed, or whether he was being foolish. Certainly the man had heard at least the last part of what the ranger had said, the list of their 'unconventionality' - but how much had he really heard.

Atharen smiled very slightly. "I am...complicated, Carathir," he answered the easterling enigmatically. "Complicated by anyone's standards. Little is known about me to anyone here. Trust me or don't - but when you know so little, maybe you will not find a reason to distrust me. Innocent until proven guilty, isn't that what the laws of...many people say?" he smiled very slightly, wondering if the easterling would take up the hidden message.