As the first watch of the dark night passed and the night-bird swept across the revolving heavens, whispered secrets began to unfold. The door of the champion’s chamber opened softly, and a servant entered bearing a candle scented with ambergris. Behind the flame walked a maiden whose moon-like countenance outshone the radiant sun—a princess tall as a high cypress, her brows arched like bows and her tresses flowing like lassos. Her soul was woven of wisdom and her body pure spirit, seemingly untouched by mortal dust.
Lion-hearted Rostam marveled at her fairy-like presence and invoked the praises of the Creator. He asked who she was and what she sought in the shadowy hours. She answered that she was Tahmineh, daughter of the King of Samangan, descended from lions and leopards—a maiden whom no eyes outside the royal quarters had ever beheld, nor any voice heard. She confessed how she had heard legendary tales of his unmatched prowess: how he feared no lion, demon, crocodile, or leopard, how he roamed the dangerous borders of Touran alone, and how the eagle checked its flight at the sight of his bare blade.
Tahmineh revealed her heart's desire: she had surrendered her heart to his glory and prayed to the Almighty that Rostam might take her as his bride, granting her a son who would inherit his supreme courage and strength, matching the grand stature of Sam Nareeman. Furthermore, she promised to restore his lost steed, Rakhsh, to his side.
Seeing her intelligence, sublime beauty, and the promise of Rakhsh's return, Rostam's heart swelled with affection. At daybreak, he dispatched a wise priest to ask for her hand from her father. The King of Samangan rejoiced, bestowing his daughter upon the champion according to royal rites and sacred traditions. That night, Rostam and Tahmineh shared intimate embrace and deep secrets. As morning approached, Rostam unwound a renowned armlet bead from his arm and gave it to Tahmineh, instructing her to preserve it: if destiny granted them a daughter, to weave it into her tresses; if a son, to bind it upon his arm as a token of his father—a son destined to rival Sam Nareeman in nobility and valor. As the sun rose to paint the sky, Rostam sorrowfully embraced his beloved and bade her farewell.