Among noble souls such as yourself, who are self-controlled and steadfast, affection endures and courage remains firm, O best among the self-possessed. For the virtuous, whether it be silver, gold, or beautiful ornaments, such treasures are seen as shared and undivided among the good. Indeed, for the sake of a friend, O faultless one, people will give up wealth, comfort, and even their homeland when they witness such deep affection. Then, standing before Lakṣmaṇa and the wise Lakṣmī, Rāma replied to Sugrīva, who had spoken kindly to him, saying simply, “So be it.” As Rāma stood there with the mighty Lakṣmaṇa by his side, Sugrīva cast his restless gaze around the forest. Not far away, the lord of the monkeys spotted a śāla tree, richly adorned with blossoms and a few leaves, buzzing with bees. Breaking off a branch thick with leaves, Sugrīva spread it out for Rāma, and together with Rāghava, he sat down. Seeing the two seated, Hanumān too gently seated Lakṣmaṇa upon another branch he had broken from the śāla tree. Rāma, now comfortably seated and serene like the calm ocean, rested upon that excellent mountain, which was covered with śāla blossoms. Then Sugrīva, delighted, spoke to Rāma with gentle and auspicious words, his voice trembling with joy and affection. He said, “I, deprived by my brother, wander in fear on this great mountain Ṛṣyamūka. My wife has been taken from me, and I am deeply afflicted. Terrified and sunk in fear, my mind disturbed in the forest, I have been wronged by my brother Vāli and have become his enemy, O Rāghava. Vāli, who terrifies all the worlds, is the cause of my fear. I am without support; you ought to show me your favor.” Thus addressed, the illustrious Rāma, descendant of Kakutstha, knower of righteousness and devoted to virtue, replied to Sugrīva with a gentle smile: “A friend is one who repays kindness; one who does harm is marked as an enemy. Today itself I will slay the one who took your wife. Here are my mighty, sharp arrows, adorned with gold, born from the forest of Kārtikeya, blazing with power. Fitted with vulture-feathered shafts, resembling Indra’s thunderbolt, well-jointed and keen-pointed, they are like angry serpents. See your brother, the enemy named Vāli, who has committed evil—he will be struck down by these arrows and scattered like a mountain broken apart.” Hearing Rāma’s words, Sugrīva, leader of the monkey army, was filled with incomparable joy and exclaimed, “Excellent! Excellent! Rāma, I am overcome by grief; you are the refuge for those afflicted by sorrow. Considering you a friend, I lay my lament before you. By the joining of our hands, you have become my friend, with fire as witness; you are dearer to me than life itself, and I swear this by truth. Taking you as my friend, I speak openly; the sorrow within me always weighs down my mind.” Having spoken thus, Sugrīva’s eyes filled with tears, his voice choked with emotion so that he could not speak aloud. Yet, in Rāma’s presence, he summoned his courage and restrained the sudden surge of tears, like a river held back by a dam. After checking his tears, wiping his beautiful eyes, and sighing deeply, the radiant Sugrīva spoke again to Rāghava: “Long ago, O Rāma, Vāli cast me out from my own kingdom. He spoke harsh words and drove me away with his superior strength. He took my wife, dearer to me than my own life, and bound and imprisoned all my friends. That wicked-hearted one has made many efforts to destroy me, O Rāghava, and I have slain many monkeys whom he sent against me. Because of this suspicion and fear, O Rāghava, even seeing you, I did not approach at first, for fear makes everyone wary. Only these companions of mine, with Hanumān at their head, are with me; thus, even in great distress, I am able to sustain my life today. These affectionate monkeys protect me on all sides, always accompany me wherever I go, and remain with me wherever I stay. This, O Rāma, is the summary; why should I recount the full tale? My elder brother Vāli, famed for his strength, is both my enemy and my brother. Even after his destruction, my sorrow would only be wiped away afterward; my happiness and very life depend on his downfall. This, O Rāma, is the end of my sorrow, as told by one afflicted by grief; whether in sorrow or happiness, a friend always seeks refuge in a friend.” Hearing these words, Rāma spoke to Sugrīva: “I wish to hear the true cause of your enmity. For, O monkey, once I have heard the cause of your quarrel, I will act promptly, considering both strength and weakness. Indeed, my anger grows strong upon hearing of your humiliation, swelling in my heart like the rush of water in the rainy season. Speak freely and without fear while I string my bow; for I have already set my arrow, and your enemy is as good as destroyed.” Thus addressed by the noble son of Kākutstha, Sugrīva, together with his four monkey companions, felt incomparable joy. Then, his face beaming with delight, Sugrīva began to recount to Lakṣmaṇa’s elder brother the true cause of his enmity.