Two weeks after the climactic battle in the ballroom, Amdirien had finished rebuilding Umbar's bureaucracy. She saw little of Thorongil, who was exhausted from his frequent use of his power. The Princess was tired herself, and eagerly awaited the conclusion of her task. Soon the day came when she felt that she had done all she could: the city was calm and stable. She sent Anders to find a Gondorian warship in the harbor to take them home.

In gratitude for their service, Amdirien invited all the Rangers who had fought for her to return to Minas Tirith with her to be honored for their bravery. She also offered them places in her personal guard, which had been sorely depleted. About half of the Rangers agreed to trade in their forest hues for the polished silver and sea blue cloaks of the Princess's detail.

Amdirien was just settling into her cabin on the Adrahil, a tall white ship flying the blue flag of Dol Amroth, when she received an unexpected visitor.

"Your majesty, this woman claims to have business with you..." began a soldier.

"Hello Amdirien," said Mirumor, pushing her way past the soldier.

"Mirumor," sighed Amdirien. "Yes, guardsman, she may enter."

Mirumor took a seat in Amdirien's cabin. "You seem to be doing well."

"As well as can be expected," replied the Princess. "And you?"

"I see my fortunes improving," smiled the sorceress. "Three thousand silver, a Morgul blade, and an introduction to the Dark Lord himself - or the Tower of Minas Morgul, when you fail to deliver on the last."

"I haven't forgotten," nodded Amdirien.

"Of course you haven't," said Mirumor. "I wouldn't dare suggest that King Aragorn's daughter would go back on her word."

"The last of those will take time and tact," cautioned Amdirien.

"I expect my payment in a reasonable time," Mirumor replied.

Amdirien stood up, and it seemed to Mirumor that she looked taller and older than she had before. Her eyes were cold and stern. "You will get it whenever I see fit. And if it becomes an issue, I will send Gwethien to convince you to drop the matter, just as she 'convinced' your father to testify about the Dead Hand."

On the weeklong voyage back to Pelargir, Amdirien's mood turned dark and grim. Every moment on the sea brought her thoughts of the dead Captain Pedron - the first casualty she had seen in Umbar. Every night when she closed her eyes she saw his last moments: the flash of lightning and the glimmer of the treacherous first mate's sword. She heard Pedron's muted cry, and saw his body fall into the turbulent sea. A shadow came over her, and she spoke to no one, and she thought only of revenge.

When her ship reached the docks at the mouth of the Anduin, Amdirien looked upon the fleet moored there under the pale light of a full moon obscured by the clouds, she saw the Tar-Minyatur - the pride of Gondor's fleet. Then her mind was made up, and she cared neither what her parents, nor Elerína, nor Thorongil would think. She found Gwethien and pulled her quietly aside.

"Are you hungry, Gwethien?" she asked.

The vampire hissed back at her like a cat. "Are you mocking me?"

"I promised you payment," she whispered, "and now I have a task for you - suited more to your talents and desires than guarding a mortal princess. I want you to find the former first mate of the Tar-Minyatur, the one who murdered Captain Pedron, and I want you to kill him. I only ask that you learn first why he did it - what was the promised price - and then... throw what's left of him into the sea."

"As you wish," grinned the monster, and she vanished into the night. And come the next morning, the traitor had vanished without a trace.

A week later Amdirien was explaining everything that had happened in Umbar to her father in the small sitting room beside the throne of Minas Tirith. She told the tale in full, up until her departure from the southern city.

"That is a dark tale," said Aragorn. "It is good that Thorongil was with you! But your debt to the sorceress, Mirumor, may prove a steep price. I am loath to reveal Sauron to anyone - especially to a potential servant. She should be watched closely."

"I didn't have much of a choice," sighed Mirumor.

"No, you did not," answered Aragorn. "And if she becomes a threat, we can always deal with her later. Speaking of which, I must move quickly to capture the man who killed Captain Pedron."

"That has been dealt with," said Amdirien.

"How so?" asked the King.

"He's dead," she replied.

Aragorn pressed her for more.

"He was killed, on my orders," she admitted.

"I see..." said Aragorn. "By whom? Thorongil?"

Suddenly Thorongil stormed into the elegantly furnished room, nearly knocking the doors off their hinges. "Not by me!" he roared. "Tell him!"

"Speak to my daughter with more respect," objected the King. Thorongil heeded him not.

"I sent Gwethien," whispered Amdirien.

Aragorn leaned back in his chair. For a moment he looked pale and weak. "Gwethien..."

"You said yourself it needed to be done quickly," said Amdirien.

"This has nothing to do with speed or efficiency," interrupted Thorongil. "You sent her for revenge - you wanted him to suffer, and you wanted to be the one that caused it."

"I made the best use of my available assets," said Amdirien coldly. "He deserved whatever he got..."

"Did he?" growled Thorongil.

Amdirien began to speak but Thorongil wasn't interested in anything she had to say.

"Quiet!" he commanded, and his voice seemed to batter her down into the chair she sat in. "You have said enough, child, and now you will listen. You are playing with powers you do not understand. The authority is not given to you, Princess of Gondor, to use a vampire's power against your own people! Not because he did or did not deserve it, but because you cannot fathom what she does - what she is."

"You use her for your own purposes, in our land," replied the Princess.

"I take responsibility for her actions, and I understand her power, for I have it also. You do neither!"

"If you are here to judge me, than judge me!" cried Amdirien. "I used Gwethien to kill a murderous traitor - the sort of man you slaughtered in droves."

"There will be consequences," said Thorongil.

"You speak of authority," said Aragorn, "and you have no authority to punish my daughter. And if you threaten her again, I will have to reconsider your presence in my kingdom."

Thorongil turned to Aragorn, but it was clear that his words were meant for Amdirien. "Very well. She has two choices. Either she will have nothing more to do with me and my brethren, because she has proven herself untrustworthy with our power..."

Amdirien shook her head.

"...or she can accept our judgement, and learn first hand to what kind of horrifying fate she sentenced a man."

Strength returned to the King's face. "If you lay a finger on my daughter..." he roared.

"I used their power, so I will accept their judgement," interrupted Amdirien.

"You don't have to do this," said her father.

"Yes, I do," replied the Princess.

Thorongil nodded, and took a silver coin from his pocket. "Are you familiar with my ability to show people events from the past, using an object that was there?"

"I am," nodded the Princess. She had heard how Thorongil had shown Timothy visions of his father, who the orphan had never known. She doubted this would be so kind an application of that powerful magic.

"This was in the traitor's pocket when he was killed by the vampire," said Thorongil solemnly. "Tonight you're going to sleep with it close to you, and you're going to experience the horror you unleashed - exactly as he did."

Amdirien shivered. "Sounds fair. And then you will hold the matter resolved?"

"Yes. As will Elerína."

"Very well," shuddered Amdirien. Though she was afraid, she was also relieved that the maiar were offering her a way to atone for her mistake.

"Sweet dreams," mocked Thorongil as he left; but his sarcasm hid pain - he hoped she would not be too shaken by the ordeal.

The next morning Amdirien awoke in a cold sweat from the nightmare to find both Elerína and Thorongil be her bedside. She remembered in vivid detail the attack - Gwethien, finally given permission to kill, had taken her time with her victim.

"Are you alright?" asked Thorongil.

Amdirien felt her neck, half expecting to find it covered in blood. It had all been a dream - an illusion of Thorongil's magic. "You're the sorcerers, you tell me!" she cried.

Elerína and Thorongil smiled at each other.

"I think she's fine," said Elerína.

"Maybe... feeding someone to a vampire wasn't my best idea," she conceded.

"Is that an apology?" asked Elerína.

"It's the closest you're going to get," laughed Amdirien, struggling to sit up and instinctively examine her limbs to make sure none of the agonizing injuries she had just felt in her dream had followed her into the waking world.

"That's an Elerína-like apology if I ever heard one," chuckled Thorongil.

"Please don't do something like that again," said Elerína. "The power to kill like that - with Gwethien as your weapon - once is an unfortunate mistake, but if you made a habit of it..."

"...then you would become exactly what we are here to fight," said Thorongil.

Amdirien nodded. "I understand."