Author's Note: If my reasoning (and the maps in the Atlas of ME) are correct, then Umbar is technically a part of Gondor. But this map is rather old (try 1050 of the Third Age), and still has Rohan as a part of Gondor, so for our purposes Umbar is now it's own country. It's far enough away anyhow. 

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"M'lord king, the party from Umbar has arrived in the city."

Eomer nodded as he shoved his stack of paperwork off to the side of his desk. Rohan had been waiting for weeks for the trade negotiations from Umbar. The far Southern land was a good ally, and provided them with a good number of goods that could not be grown or made on Rohan's plains. "Bring them in, I will be there in a minute."

It was Eomer's first time meeting with men from this land, and though his uncle had dealt with them many times during his reign, Eomer had never had need to meet them. He was excited, but also nervous. From what he had heard, customs in Umbar were far different than in Rohan. He had even heard rumors that they still practiced slavery. Such practices had been outlawed in most of Middle-earth for decades, centuries even, but Umbar was so far south that most forgot it was even a part of Middle-earth.

The young king stood from his desk and stretched slightly before leaving his study, this should be interesting to say the least.

The party from Umbar was already waiting in the Meduseld when Eomer arrived. One man, who appeared to be in charge, sat with his feet atop at the negotiating table that had been set before the throne. Eomer raised an eyebrow at the man's unabashed impoliteness, as well as his appearance in general. The clothes he wore might have been considered finery where he came from, but in Eomer's tastes they so overly fancy that they verged on tacky; all gold embroidery and pointless jewels. The others of the party were dressed in a similar style, though their clothing had nowhere near the same embellishment as their leader. And they all looked the same; dark, oily hair, untamed beards and darkly tanned skin. That is, all accept for one.

Behind the group of men stood one other, a figure so different Eomer was tempted to believe he was from another land entirely. He was slender, almost feminine though his clothes showed that he clearly wasn't. Long silvery hair was tied back into a thick braid that ran straight down his back, though a few wisps escaped around the tips of... pointed ears? An elf, that was why this one seemed so different. Eomer had not known that were elves in Umbar. Then, under closer inspection, it appeared this elf was not like the ones Eomer was used to. For one, his clothing was nothing elf-like, rather it seemed a cheep attempt at imitating elvish style, an attempt that had failed. And there was his posture, his stood behind the men, head bowed and hands clasped in front of himself; almost as though he was less than them. Eomer could not see his face, the elf was pointedly looking away, carefully studying the wooden floor. Why would an elf be acting in such a manner? Of the elves that Eomer had met, all were proud and noble creatures, the people of Rohan looked up to them as a child does a teacher.

This one though, seemed almost ashamed of his elven heritage.

"I see you are admiring my elf."

Eomer was pulled away from his study of the creature as the man from Umbar addressed him. It was the leader, and his voice, it seemed to Eomer, was as oily as his appearance.

"You are King Eomer, I presume?" the man asked with an obviously fake smile.

"Eomer King," the Rohirrim corrected, already deciding that though Umbar was a good trade ally their people were despicable, "And you are Lord Neshta?"

"Master Neshta," the man replied, probably just out of spite for Eomer's correction. The young king made no response. "Do you like the elf?" Master Neshta continued when Eomer did not reply, "He is exquisite is he not? Do you have elves in your fine land?"

Eomer was almost too shocked to speak. This man spoke of the elf as though he were an object, a prize to be flaunted. "No," the king replied after a moments hesitation, "Not here, their lands are further north."

"And have you ever met and elf, Eomer King?" the man queried, removing his feet from the table and leaning forward as he spoke.

"The Prince Consort of Gondor is elven, and a good friend of mine," Eomer told him matter-of-factly.

Master Neshta raised an eyebrow in astonishment, "Prince Consort? Who in their right mind would marry an elf, much less put them in a position of power? Gondor's king must be out of his mind."

"I assure you Elessar is quite sane," Eomer said with a frown as he sat down across the table from the foreigners, "Now if you do not mind, I believe you came here to negotiate trade, not argue about what elves can or cannot do?"

"Yes," the dark haired man agreed with an oily grin, "That is what we came here for isn't it?"

TBC...

A/N: Alright, short I know, but I wanted to know what people think about the idea before I bother to write any more. Well... Even if you like it I probably won't write any more for a while because I should finish my other two fics first. Tell me what you think, anyway, and I may be compelled to continue.