The Far Lands of Rhûn - Free RP

[The Good Hunter]

The Far Lands of Rhûn
Credit to Colin Chan for the original image


"Eastward he looked into wide uncharted lands, nameless plains, and forests unexplored."

- “The Breaking of the Fellowship”, The Fellowship of the Ring

Far to the east Gondor and Rohan and Eriador lies the lands of Rhûn, sometimes called Amrûn, a vast primordial landscape largely unexplored by the Free Peoples of Middle-earth. It is home to the Easterlings, a people often at odds when the Dúnedain with feuds going back to the First Age and great War of the Jewels. Aside from the great inland Sea of Rhûn, almost nothing is known about the lands themselves. Cuiviénen and Hildórien, the sites of the awakening of the Children, are said to be in the far east as well. Rhûn itself stretches for untold leagues and contains vast amounts of mountain ranges, forests, fields, and steppes until it reaches the end at the Uttermost East where the mountains of the Orocarni tower above the plains. Like any place, Rhûn is filled with good and evil men, dark warlords and dauntless heroes, occult secret societies and everyday travelers. Almost nothing of the lands, the people, or their stories are known to the people of the West, until now…

Cities
Carcosa: a hidden city ruled by an entity known as the King in Yellow (Frost Original, sort of)
Tumunamahal: one of the great capital cities of the dwarves of Rhûn (MERP)
Firouroun: the capital city of the Sarmatians, a tribe of Easterlings (Frost Original, sort of)
Colchis: the capital city of the Uldorian Easterling tribe (Frost Original, sort of)
Al-Kanakh: the capital city of the Borian Easterling tribe (Frost Original)
Kurvasagh: the capital city of the Ulgath Easterling tribe, located on the Sea of Rhûn (MERP)
Korb Taskral: a hidden island city on the Sea of Rhûn (Frost Original)
Interesting, deuterocanonical chart about the lineages of Rhûnnish people

Regions and Places
The Great Inland Sea of Rhûn: a place of great cultural, economic, and political importance to all the people of Rhûn
The Shelf-Lands: lands far to the east, home of the Steppe tribes (MERP)
Ered Harmal: all that remains of the Mountains of the Wind, were legend says the valley of Hildórien was
The Orocarni: the Red Mountains, sometimes referred to as the Pelóri of the East
The Last Desert: a semi-mythical place, home of the fearsome Were-worms
The Wild Wood: a wild forest that grew near Cuiviénen
Lemuria: a region in the Uttermost East (Frost Original)

Note: This a far from complete list of cities, regions, and places, please feel free to add or own (and if you like I will add them to OP)


Rules and Guidelines:
1. Read and enjoy other people’s hard work but respect their privacy (go to the RP Request Form if you would like to join an existing story or start a new story)
2. All races are welcome! Timeline is whatever you like, from the beginning of Arda through the fourth age
3. Keep any OOC comments to the The Hall of Barad-dûr: Mordor OOC
4. Refrain from using overly bright colors or potentially incur the wrath of the TR (Frost)
5. Icons and small images are welcome, but please no moving gifs
6. Anyone can use any canon characters in their stories, there is no ownership in this thread
7. We are all adults here and can decide for ourselves the stories we want to read so rather than dictate what can and cannot be written in this thread, we will ask that any CW (at the discretion of the writer) be placed at the top of the post

[The Good Hunter]

The Mother of the Mountains
The Ered Harmal
(Private)

When the sun finally peaked above the eastern horizon, Cybele was already hard at work. By the time the golden orb of celestial fire was fully careening through the sky, the young girl had already put in a full day’s work. She was tired, there was a bright sheen of sweat on her forehead; a breeze out of the east and down the mountain. The breeze was sweet, filled hints of snow and wheat and salt. Cybele decided she was done with the day’s work. The goats, chickens, and rabbits were fed and the fields looked after. The farm was not hers, but she worked it alone all the same. It had belonged to her father. But her father was gone now. He wasn’t dead. Not in her mind at least. He was just gone. Same as her mother. There was a village further down the side of the mountain, but they were more alien and foreign to her than four horned goats and black chickens she raised. She did not belong within the bounds of society. She didn’t understand how they worked. She didn’t want to. As hard as the work on the farm was, it was what she understood. It was what grounded her. It kept her mind from wandering, demanding the focus of a sharp mind. It kept her mind away from the dreams.

The dreams were sometimes more real than the reality of her monotonous, day in, day out life. They were so bright and vibrant and painful that the rest of the world was drained and sad. The first time she had the dream, nearly a year and a half ago now, she woke flushed, covered in sweat. She could feel the fire. She could feel the burns on her skin. When she woke, she looked in the mirror and behold, there was a scar under her eye. At first, she was convinced that she was sleep walking, that she was wandering through the mountains and found a hidden forge. Yet in her waking hours, no matter how much she searched the hills and cliffs and stony arroyos there was no forge. There were no people. This mountain was hers and she alone scratched a living from it.

The next time she had a dream, she awoke with another wound, a monstrous claw mark across her belly. She believed it to be the work of one of her more rambunctious, more tenacious goats. It was not the work of a dream. It couldn’t be. Dreams were not real. And yet, and yet how could she deny what she was seeing and feeling?

She was angry at her father for disappearing. She was angry at her mother for abandoning her. She could have lived a happy, simple life with a family that loved her. She was alone. Her father had vanished without a trace, without a note, without a warning to his one and only daughter. Her mother, supposed a wealthy merchant, had left Cybele screaming and pink on her father’s doorstep nine months after a chance encounter in a country tavern. Her father would wax poetic about her eyes, golden red like bloody diamonds. Cybele inherited those eyes, according to her father.

She screamed. The sound echoed off the mountain. The chickens squawked; the goats screamed. Rocks tumbled and skittered down the side of the mountain. She was tired. She was more than tired. Cybele had left exhaustion behind long ago. The repetitive routine had kept her standing, like some undead wight unable to break the cycles that held it together in life.

No more.

Cybele was done farming. She was doing looking after rabbits and goats and chickens. If her father didn’t care enough to stay with her and keep going, then why should she be trapped here? She never consented to this existence.

“NO!!”

The sound resonated across the mountains. She was done. Then young girl with golden red eyes, a scar across her cheek that looked more like scales than skin, was done. She set loose the animals from their pens. It was time for all of them to escape the bonds that kept them tethered to a doomed bit of earth and stone.

“I’m coming,” she said to the dragon of her dreams. “I’m coming to get you.”

[The Good Hunter]

The Mother of the Mountains
The Ered Harmal
(Private)

It had been a week after she’d abandoned her homestead, abandoned the ghosts of her memories, abandoned the tiny village with all its tiny people and already she felt different. The young woman wasn’t sure if it was the weight of responsibility that had been lifted or the burden of guilt she’d shed. She had assumed that she would have been overwhelmed with nostalgia and regret once she left. Those feelings, however, never came. The further she got from her old home the more alive she felt. It was a strange sensation, feeling alive. How could she have known what it was that she was missing? There was nothing here that she could compare it to, she had never noticed the absence of “living” and therefore had no basis to measure how dead inside she felt. Yet now, now it was all different. Even with nothing more than a walking stick, bed roll, and a knife she felt more vibrant and colorful.

The same, however, could not be said of the landscape around Cybele. She travelled from the high hills of the Ered Harmal to the mountains proper and everything, everything, around her was one shade or another of brown, blue, or grey. These mountains were labyrinths of washed-out colors so drab it was hard to tell where the mountains ended, and the sky began. The world around her was slate grey. And cold. There was a massive rumble of thunder behind her. It dislodged a few stones around her, they came clattered down in ominous, descending scales. The winds picked up, carrying a scent pregnant with rain and dust. She swore under her breath, then wondered why she was being quiet and swore aloud. It made her smile, that act of defiance, but she knew that the oncoming storm did not care whether she swore aloud or in her mind, she needed to find shelter. She looked back, toward the west. The sky was swollen and black, the sun tried to shine from behind the dark clouds, but it only made the sky look like a massive, ugly bruise. She grimaced. There was a life in those clouds; how she knew that she couldn’t say, some sixth sense that provided her with enough information to be useless. She found a little dugout about a hundred or so yards off the goat track she’d been following. It smelled of rotten cow but it was spacious, just being enough for her and a small fire. The ceiling of the cavern was ventilated. She built a fire out of sticks and dry grass. It was smoky and small, but it was enough. She plucked the feathers off the pheasant she’d caught a few hours earlier, cleaned, and gutted it before setting it to roast over a makeshift spit with wild onions. She hadn’t eaten the previous two days and while she was not exactly ravenous, she knew she was going to enjoy the food.

The air grew colder and colder as the storm approached. The little fire barely provided enough to cook the food; she would have had to sit in the fire to get tangible warmth from it. She wrapped herself in the bed roll. It was clunky didn’t wrap around her like a decent blanket but was better than nothing. Before long the cave was filled with the smell of smoke, roasted poultry, and petrichor. The rains came down harder than she’d expected. On her little homestead on the slopes of the little mountain the rains had never come down with any sort of malicious intent. The rains could be playfully destructive, a great childlike beast that didn’t know its own strength when it tore through the skies with jubilant ferocity. Storms like that were common in this season. They washed away the heat and sticky humidity (and one or two chicken coops) but were gone before the sun had a chance to rise and chase them off. This storm was an older brother, or perhaps it was the matured form of those very storms she endured under thatch and timber. This storm was an angry one. There was nothing playing if the roaring sounds above her. There was no pleasant, pure call to play in the rain. Anger, pure and simple, was all she could hear now. The destruction was wanton and callous without a second thought. As storms matured, they grew more and more angry, a spirit of absolute violence rode them and drove them on. Lightning and thunder and winds that ripped at trees, tearing stone from stone and set fire to the timbers raged all about her. She huddled so close to the fire that she inhaled more smoke than air. She coughed and hacked, spitting a greenish-red glob by the mouth of the cave. It was washed away by the constant barrage of water. This storm may as well have carried some of the primordial waters with it, the kind that wiped mountains and wastelands from the earth and left behind deep and unknowable pools.

What was she doing here? Where was she going? Where was she now? Who was she? A dozen questions rattled in her brain, creating almost more noise than the storm that raged and spat all around her. Cybele would receive no peace tonight. While she had gained a measure of life and freedom since leaving her old home, she’d collected doubts and questions the way a horse draws burrs and espinas. How certain was she that her father was her father? He’d said he was, but what did that even mean? What was a father supposed to do for his daughter? He taught her things and told her stories and went away on long journeys to trade good. If that was all a father was then what was so special about him? A blast of thunder stopped that particular rabbit hole, distracting her just long enough that her mind jumped to another question. Where was she going? She’d picked up and left without any clear idea where she was going or what she was going toward. The only real thing she knew was what she was leaving behind. The world had expanded exponentially in the last week, but her growth, it is to say, was rather minimal in contrast. She saw a different sky, but it was still the same sky she’d seen all her life. There were different sets of stone beneath her feet but none of them told her anything different than the stones she’d seen a hundred times before. The clouds were mysteries in this obelisk maze as much as they were on the farm. Had she merely traded one home for another?

She was being led by a dream. A dream made of dragons and gold. She followed the dragon in her dreams every night. She felt the roaring horn blast of the creature in her bones as if it were coming from her own mouth. She followed it, regardless of the mountains and bones she stepped on. Nothing mattered but that dragon. The eyes of the beast were feral and atavistic, but they housed an intelligence far older and deeper than anything the Elves might have had. She’d never met an elf, but she if she did, after this dragon had gazed upon her, she would have found them banal and uninteresting, chattel and chaff. The dragon vanished in the presence of a black hole moon, a shimmering, radiant, sinister light that devoured and destroyed the landscape. Everything was shadows. Tendrils of smoke like fingers of a giant corpse rose off the steaming landscape, escaping the husk of the earth. The earth itself was nothing more than a shell, a cracked egg that once it has released its precious contents withers and dissolves into primordial foam. Light existed but only in the minds of the few remaining inhabitants, it was silvery and soft, it withered at the simplest touch. There was an endless ocean, deep and blue. It stretched on forever and ever. There was no shore nor was there a bottom. There was nothing but the sea. No boat, no ship, no construct of mortal or immortal hand could cross the vastness. It was a hungry sea that devoured the sky. One day it would conquer everything and wash anything living into Stygian and uncountable depths. It was beast of incalculable ravenousness. It exuded a cold that turned the very stars to shattered remnants. There was a single burning mountain, wreathed in orange and red, that rose above a landscape desolate and malignant. There was a monster inside that mountain. The mountain is where she must go. The dragon would be there, waiting for her. Any question she could ask would be answered there.

Cybele woke, hacking and coughing as she breathed in a mouthful of expended ash. She gagged and felt the bile reach the back of her tongue. The storm had passed. Apparently, she was got some sleep after all. Her head throbbed with the visions now etched on her brain. It hurt to breath for a long time after.

“I have miles to go…” she whispered to herself.

[The Good Hunter]

The Mother of the Mountains
The Ered Harmal
(Private)

The dreams continued, as dreams are wont to do. She walked and climbed and climbed and walked, directionless as a blown dandelion. When she woke each morning, she wondered if the dreams meant something, if they were some sort of map she should follow, but that feeling faded each morning as the images, vivid and sharp in her dreams, faded and dulled along with the morning mists. She would not admit she was lost. She’d wondered for days and days but the end of the Ered Harmal was nowhere in sight. She had no idea how big the world was, she’d never been beyond her little farm until a few weeks ago. For all she knew the mountains reached until the end of the world. The end of the world. Before she started this journey “the end of the world” sounded frightening or mysterious, now it seemed like just another place she would never be able to reach. The peaks and shards and little hills all looked the same; they were all beautiful to start, but as time wore on, the grandeur and wonder wore off. Where at first she could see peaks like the teeth of dragons, now she simply saw another peak she needed to move past.

This morning was no different from any other morning. Until she found a man sitting opposite her, warming his hands in a fire that should have long ago turned to ash. The sun was already in the sky, higher than normal. She blinked away the sleep and grogginess, half convinced the man was an apparition left over from the dreams. When he did not disappear she grew alarmed, skittered backward on all fours like a cockroach. He didn’t move or acknowledge her existence in any way. He stared into the fire, tilting his head as if he were listening, as if the cracks and pops and roars were a secret language that only he understood.

“Who are you?” Cybele was only able to ask the single question, too stunned to say or do anything else.

At first he didn’t answer, he stared into the fire and nodded absently. “I’ve gone by so many names in my life. Sometimes it’s hard to keep them all straight in my head. Who are you?”

Cybele squinted and frowned. “I’m not anyone. I’m the girl whose fire you stole.”

He laughed, the sound was like thunder and silver bells. “Your fire? Well now that is interesting. Did you create the fire? Nurture it? Name it?”

“What?” she looked at him incredulously. She couldn’t decide if she was alarmed or annoyed. She grabbed a stone beside her, just in case.

“All fires have names, you know,” he said as if that was just a known and accepted fact. “Like you or I, they go by different names in different forms. This fire had a name too.” The sound he made after was strange. It was not human or animal; there were no words or screeches or growls, no clicks or anything discernible as a language. There two notes she could distinguish, the higher note was like the hissing and popping of a fire, the sound of sparks flying and consuming kindling, the lower note was like the rumbling of the earth, deep, resonant, and ceaseless. They both came from the man’s mouth at once. Cybele watched, dumbstruck until the man closed his mouth again. “He said he wishes that you could understand what he was saying and that he was happy to spend the night with you. It was cold, and the cold is kept at bay only by companions willing to help one another. I told him I would tell you just that.”

This man had either lost his mind, or he was sorcerer. Either way he was dangerous. Cybele’s grip on the stone tightened as she coiled herself, ready to run. He did not move or even seem to notice his surroundings. He was tall, or he would be if he were standing. His robe looked ragged and torn, but the closer she looked at it the more it looked like it was simply ancient with patches of detailed imagery sewn in. The cloak, and everything else the man wore, was a dozen different shades of blue. Cybele had never seen something so blue. It was dizzying. She’d only experienced vertigo a few times in her life, but the more she looked at the swirling colors, haphazardly slashed in a dozen different directions and a dozen different shades, the more she felt like she was going to fall off the world and float into the endless sky above her. She dropped the stone and tried to grab a handful of earth to ground her.

“Who are you?” she asked again weakly.

He looked up from the fire and straight at her, his eyes were an even more piercing shade of blue than his clothing. They were bright, containing the images of a thousand stars long twinkled out. There was something behind his eyes too, a deeper shade of blue that melded with the cosmic infinite that drifted behind the stars. He smiled at her the way a man might smile at a rainbow. She couldn’t tell if that was infuriating or not.

“Who am I?” he mused, rubbing his bare chin. “How often, do you think, we actually consider what that means? Who we are is so much more than a name, a few syllables, a few sounds of breath and color. Yet that is exactly who we are. With each day, each moment, each thought, we apply a meaning to the names we are given or the ones we take. We add a depth to a sound where depth did not exist before. We place so much importance and reverence to those sounds, they are grander than the swirling stars above us. Names, too, are sacred secrets we can only share with our shadow selves. Each person or animal or thing we met wants that name, but we cannot share it, no matter how much we try, we cannot convey to them who we are or what we are. Have you ever tried to talk to a waterfall?”

Cybele squinted. What kind of question was that? “No,” she answered curtly.

He laughed, thunderous silver bells. “Well I assure you; it is an experience everyone must try in their lives. You especially.”

“What do you mean by that?”

He smiled and looked passed her, toward the eastern sky. “You are unique, young child. The scales of your ancestry are plain, if you have the foresight and the knowledge of where to look.”

“Who are you?” she repeated.

“I am so many things, so many people. I have lived so many different lifetimes.”

“Who are you now, then?”

“Aha! There’s the right question! Or at least on the path toward the right question. We change so much from day to day; it is a wonder we do not give ourselves new names with each dawn. But then, we don’t know who we are upon our waking. We don’t’ know who we will be or what we will do. Only the elements have names that remain the same. They are immutable in their inconstance. And our dreams. What do our dreams do to us? What do they mean to who we are?”

Cybele was hungry and getting tired of the psychobabble. “Right now, I am hungry,” she said, thick with petulance.

He barked a laugh that didn’t sound human, it sounded more akin to the quacking of a duck. “Now there’s a truth! Hungry, it is good to meet you. I, too, am Hungry in this moment. Let us sit by the fire and shed the name to see what lies beneath?” The fire roared to life once more as he spoke, sending sparks and embers so high into the sky that they were blown away by hundred different breezes. Cybele’s eyes widen out of fear, concern, and curiosity. “Now, now” he chided, seeing the look in her eyes. “None of that. You’ve nothing to fear from me child. I’m not going to eat you.”

The thought had not occurred to her until he said something, now it was all she could think about. She picked up the stone once more, gripping it tight in her small hands. Her hands burned; she could see something like golden scales beneath her skin. She moved closer. There was something in the fire, a massive iron pot. How had she missed it before? It was half the size of the firepit. Smoke and steam alike rolled off it, licking the sides of the metal and hissing as the tendrils skittered into the sky. There was a smell too. She couldn’t tell if she liked the smell or not. It was earthy and ripe with the slightest hint of soil and rot. Her stomach growled all the same.

“You did not jest when you said your name was Hungry, child. I can hear that all the way passed the Orocarni. Come and have some of the broth. I promise you will like it.” Out of, well out of somewhere, he produced two clay bowls. He dipped each bowl into the pot and extended his hand to Cybele. The broth inside was golden and steamy. She took it despite her misgivings and took a sip. It tasted of mushroom, but no mushrooms she’d ever tasted before. It was sweet and savory at once, umami and sour and bitter. A single sip warmed her innards and calmed the nerves.

“Who are you, now?” she asked, having taken three more sips.

“I am less Hungry now,” he chuckled, “and a little more myself. I am Awake and Anticipatory. What about you?”

She grumbled; this crazed fool was never going to tell her anything important. “I am Cybele.”

“Just like that?” he said with a sinister looking grin. “Three sips of broth and you are Cybele already? I assumed it would be at least five.”

She froze. The smell and taste of the broth had taken her off guard. She felt woozy. She looked at her hands and the bowl between them. The air shimmered, steam passed over her fingers and they rippled like water. She should be alarmed, she thought somewhere deep in her mind. But she was not, she was fascinated.

“Well, it is good to meet you, Cybele,” the man said, brushing a strand of blueish white hair from his forehead. “You are a child on a journey. I cannot tell you what lies at the end of your journey, Cybele. Though I can see far and know much, the path which you walk is currently cloudy to me, it is nebulous and hazy. You walk on paths that many would fear to tread. You are like a panther, but you do not know yet if you are stalking prey or imitating your mother.”

“My mother…?” Cybele looked up from her mushroom broth, tilting her head and looked at the wizard with new, glazed eyes. “What do you know about her?”

The man smiled, but it was a hidden smile, the locked chest kind of smile. “I know many things, child. I know your name is Cybele and you are looking for something. You are hunting but you are also being hunted. There is something out there that knows you as much as you know it.”

“What?” Cybele was still tired of psychobabble, even though the mushrooms had made her more amenable.

“Be aware, young Cybele. I can see the winds twist around you, but I cannot tell if it is to lift you up or to bind you. I can see you wreathed in golden fire, but I cannot see the eyes of the fire to know to whom it belongs. You are a strange child, Cybele. I have been searching for you for weeks now. It is a miracle that I ever happened upon you in this maze of stone and timber.”

“Why were you looking for me? I’m… I’m no one.”

“We all think we are no one at some point in our lives. Even me. I think I am no one at the end of each day and each night I watch the world drift by without burden or care. Yet each time I wake, I find myself and gird myself with that knowledge.”

“That sounds… like a bad poem.”

The thunder and silver bells rang across the stones. They were oddly comforting. “I admit, my brother is better at poetry than I. He’s better with mushrooms as well.”

“What’s his name?” she asked, thinking she might get something out of him.

“He has fewer names than me, but he is more well known. He is Pallando. Have you heard of him?”

She looked at the man with wide eyes. The blue clothes, the blue eyes, the blue hair. It all made sense for a moment. He was… the answer slipped through her fingers like sand.

“I have,” she said, her voice thick. She took another sip of the broth, disappointed when she drained it. “He’s a wizard, and a magician, and a sorcerer, and a warlock.”

“All those things?” the man chuckled and nodded. “Aye, you might be right. He is many things, my brother. It was he that told me I needed to look for you.”

“But, why? Why didn’t he come himself?”

The sun was rising fast in the sky. Too fast. The air was moving too swiftly. Something in the earth moved with great rapacious speed, she could feel it through the tremors.

“You are more important than you think, Cybele. I cannot say why he didn’t come himself. Perhaps he was too busy or wanted to sample a new kind of pepper in the market. My brother’s mind is a maze that only he can navigate. He is brilliant but he is more than a little crazy.”

“Like you.” Cybele said before she could stop herself.

“Haha! You think I am crazy, eh?” there was genuine mirth on his face, inscrutable but plain. “You might be right. I’ve seen so many sunrises, so many shades of the moon that I wonder if I’m living in a waking dream.”

“Who are you?” she asked a final time. The sun was setting before she realized it. The air was growing dark and cold. The fire though, the same fire that had tried to talk to her with sparks and rumbles, was still lit and cast orange shadows on the rocks. She wanted a blanket.

“I am called Alatar, my child. I am here to tell you this: your dreams are made of dragons, follow them and they will take you where you need.”

Now that she had his name, she felt a sense of loss. There was no point in talking to him now. The mystery of his person was gone. She drifted in and out of sleep, or what passed for sleep.

“It is time to wake, Cybele. Your mother is waiting for you at the end of the world.”

She awoke with the crash of thunder. The fire was bright, but the man was gone, so gone it was as if he had never been there.

[The Good Hunter]

Prosperity and Beauty
Sunju, Lemuria, the Uttermost East
(Private)

Ryu Sachi and her twin sister Ryu Miin Si stood on the battlements of the fortress overlooking the bay. The waves were crystal blue, tipped with white. The sun glinted off them, cascading a thousand thousand rainbows in all directions. There was not a cloud in the sky, the clear blue sky stretched from the sea green horizon in the east to the shadowy mountain purple in the west. Gulls called noxiously, screaming at each other as they fought and wheeled about, searching for fish or crabs. The sisters were too high to hear the noise of the streets below, naught but a dull cacophony reached them. The wind was sweet, a mixture of salt and mango. Sachi was leaning against the stone under an umbrella, reading from a book, Miin Si was pacing back and forth staring fixedly at the ship coming into harbor. The more she watched it, the more she felt like it was never going to get to its destination. It was their ship, their freedom, their redemption. How could Sachi be reading at a time like this?

“You know, it doesn’t matter how much watch the boat come into port, it’s still going to take another day for us to leave,” she did not look up from her book.

Miin Si scoffed leaned further over the edge of the stone embankment. It didn’t matter to her that it was still going to be a full day before they were on their way, the fact that they would be on their way was what mattered to her. She squinted and shielded her eyes from the sun. “I can see figurehead, it’s a Fenghuang. The same kind as
on the hilt of my sword.” She ignored what her twin said.

Finally, Sachi looked up, fixing a lock of white hair that had fallen out of place. “I heard the town criers this morning. Apparently, a man was found nailed to the doors of the police station. They said he had his bits removed from him. They said he was the one assaulting women over the last fortnight.”

“And?” Miin Si asked, shifting the weight of the hwando at her hip. “Sounds like he got the punishment he deserved. Too bad the police couldn’t do what they’re paid to do.”

Sachi sighed. “Indeed. Where were you last night? You weren’t in your room when I came home.”

Miin Si continued to stare out at the bay, “What are you asking, sweet sister?”

Sachi stared at the back of her sister’s head. They were nearly identical, save for their hair. Sachi had been born with hair as white as snow and thick as river moss, Miin Si had black hair, wispy as a willow’s branches. Their mother named them for the two things she had wanted most from them: Prosperity and Beauty. It had been a presumptuous act. One that did not benefit her at all. She had died before the twins’ fifth birthday. She died a pauper, convinced that her daughters were about to bring her fame and fortune. They were taken in by the state, then by an uncle they’d never heard of. He lived in this fortress, the mayor of Sunju. Since then the twins flourished. They did not have to live with a mother ready and willing to force her daughters to do anything that might give more honor to her name. Sachi was able to attend school and study the classics of Lemurian art and literature. She received the very best tutors in all the providence. Miin Si was allowed to attend an academy for Geomdo where she learned how to fight. The time was coming when they were going to have to pay their uncle back by accepting marriage proposals that would bring him more power and influence. They’d be shipped off in opposite directions to rich, old, wrinkly faced fools, or, worse, to young inexperienced manchildren. Naturally, neither of them was going to do anything of the sort. Their uncle was getting on his years. His once raven black hair had long since turned to a sickly gray. Each day more and more liver spots could be counted on his thinning head.

Many of the stairways in this old fortress were crumbling as well. Many of the stones were loosening by the day. It was only a matter of time...

“All I ask is for a little subtlety.”

Miin Si laughed, her voice had the same resonance as a zither, but with an edge of hard steel. “Afraid it might bring attention?”

Sachi rolled her eyes and closed her book. “If what we are planning is to succeed, we can’t have this many death’s attributed to us,” she hissed.

“Relax,” Miin Si turned and sat under the umbrella with her sister, “no one saw me. If anyone saw anything, they’ll have just seen the Winter Dragon doing work the police are incapable of.”

“And when we’re gone, and no one sees the Winter Dragon for a year? Sister, I don’t think you have thought your vigilantism through.”

“You are too serious, Sachi. Truly, stop reading for once and look up at the blue sky!”

They spent the next few hours together, each in their own thoughts. The sun peaked in the sky. The heat came in waves. Both sisters were glad of the umbrella. They dined on spicy beef soup for lunch. The servants barely looked at them, they returned the favor. It was not until the sun began to vanish behind the mountains of the west that they spoke again. The city’s populace was loud tonight, and why not, it was a holiday after all. In any other year they would have begged their uncle to take them down to the streets so they could enjoy the crowds and lights and colors. It was different this time. Each sister felt a sort of detachment from their surroundings. The celebrations and fireworks barely registered. The smell of sugar and confection barely reached their noses.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” Miin Si was the first to break the silence.

“I am,” Sachi sounded like she wanted to say more, but she remained silent.

“And you’re sure that our plan will work?”

Sachi sniffed haughtily. “You know I have the gift of foresight. I told you exactly what I dreamed and what we had to do. Are you doubting my interpretation?”

“Sweet sister, I do not doubt you or your interpretation. I just like to have reassurances from time to time.”

They looked each other in the eye, the sun’s dying orange and gold light catching the deep ocean blue color. Sachi brushed her sister’s cheek and pushed back a strand of black hair. “We will be off tomorrow. Uncle thinks we are simply going to sail down to Huinrae to visit a prospective pair of husbands. As soon as we arrive, we’ll, you’ll,
dispatch those that need to be dispatched and then we can continue around until we reach the port city of Umbar. We won’t be the only children of our father converging on him there. We’ll give him no other option than to come back home with us, and once dear Uncle has passed on, we can use him to get us the estate. Our cousins won’t know what hit them.”

They both smiled, eyes glimmering. They had an empire to build. It was foretold by their mother after all, prosperity and beauty. She was simply foolish enough to believe those things were going to belong to her.

“We’re coming, father.” Miin Si whispered into the sweet evening air, “we’re coming.”

[The Good Hunter]

Prosperity and Beauty
Huinrae, Lemuria, the Uttermost East
(Private)

Freedom smelled good. It smelled like salt and seaweed and sunlight. Sachi was below decks, but she could smell the sea. It was an all-consuming, monumental smell. It made her thirsty. She took a drink of her soju. It went down smooth. She went back to reading. There was not much for her and her twin to do on this voyage except wait. The real journey would not take place for several days. As excited as she was about the prospect of their journey, she did not bother getting as animated and eager has Miin Si. Her sister was doubtlessly pacing the deck, challenging any and all of the sailors to a duel. Some might even take her up on it, thinking it a jest. Sachi expected to see at least three men pass her on the way to infirmary with various contusions, broken limbs, or worse. Miin Si would never go so far as to kill someone, not unless it served her needs. She was reckless and impulsive, but she was calculating. She was trolling the deck, watching the men as they worked and how they reacted to her. Some of them would have to be culled and disposed of. There was no way around that. For their journey to be a success, the twins required absolute loyalty from the people under their command. Doubtlessly, their cousins and uncle had planted spies here and there to keep on eye on them. Though they had been careful, kept their ambitions under wraps, spies were an inevitable part of intrigue. Each of the sisters had their own way of sussing out the traitors.

The longer Sachi tried to read her book, the more the words drifted out of her vision or sloughed off the page. She’d read the same poem four times now and she could barely remember what it was even about. Was she letting her nerves get the best of her? She closed her eyes and let herself drift back and forth, counter to the motions of the boat. In her mind’s eye, she stared at a single part of the sky, a speck of cloud that was darker than the rest of the great blue vastness. She drifted toward that point, leaving her body behind. She floated far above the ship, the sea, the earth itself. She could see beyond the great western wall into the lands beyond it. Sand, jungles, and steppes. There were hundreds, thousands of leagues between them and their goal. It seemed so far at times, but here, now, she felt like she could reach out and grab it, she wanted to hold Umbar in her hands and squeeze it until her father appeared. What would he be like? She’d seen things in her dreams, knew what to look for and where, what her did not show, was the character of the man. Was he a flaccid noble, a white knight? Or was he a ruthless pirate, hungry for domination and control? She and her sister had to have gotten that urge from somewhere and their mother was a head-in-the-clouds fool. She was as ruthless as she was rich.

Sachi was bored. Poetry was not the thing to read on a long boat ride. But it was what was expected of a lady of her station. Reading campaign journals of conquering generals was generally frowned on if it were found. Thankfully, among her things was hidden the complete works of On Yeong-Ho and his campaign against the Variags of Khand in the form of poetry. She’d spent weeks painstakingly copying the material in secret. It was a masterpiece of deception. She put to down the book of flowery, purple prose and began rummaging to find the first volume.

“How can you read when the boat keeps rocking back and forth like this?” She froze for a second, having turned her back to the door temporarily. But it was the voice of Ga-In, an old schoolmate of hers going to Huinrae to meet a prospective suitor. She relaxed her muscles and released the grip on the knife she had secreted under the sleeve of her hanbok.

“The secret,” she said in a perfect false smile, “is really to read, just appear to read. It’s the perfect camouflage.”

“Oh you are so smart Sachi! You are going to find a wonderful husband. You are going to marry the Prince of Huinrae, I just know it.”

Sachi hoped not. The Prince of Huinrae was a fat balding man with larger breasts than her. They had met once when he came to Sunju to celebrate the New Year Festival last year. He smelled so overwhelmingly like lavender and honeysuckle she thought she was going to vomit, and his skin was already starting to jaundice. He was rich, but he was dying and the power he held would evaporate. No.

“Oh I would be so lucky! Have you heard how large his libraries are? They say they all have seven wings, one for each day of the week. How extravagant!”

They giggled together like they did back in school. Ga-In was a precious thing, pretty with a perfect heart shaped face, round green eyes, and a demure attitude. She was not the smartest girl in school, or the prettiest, but she was the nicest. That, along with good birthing hips would fetch her a decent dowry. They talked for what felt like hours, catching up on all the gossip of their schoolmates, who was sleeping with who, who was about to ruin who’s reputation, who was going to fail out in the coming years, and of course, which of the boys they’d be sad to see join the military. Sachi felt a strange sense of normalcy when she talked. She hated it, but she hid it well. She and her sister were not meant for normalcy. They were meant for greatness. They were meant for empire building.

The sun was almost ready to dip into the great eastern sea when they came to the deck. The sky was beautiful, streaked with red and gold. She came to her sister who was pestering a young sailor, hanging on his every word as he explained the different types of knots to her. For a moment they locked eyes, deep ocean blue looking into a mirror. She shook her head ever so slightly then went back to listening to her sailor as if her sister was never there. Sachi did the same, ignoring that her sister was even there as she and Ga-In made their way to the prow of the ship, hand in hand.

“If I am being honest,” she said tenderly, moving closer so that their fingers just grazed on the railing, “I am not looking forward to finding any man to marry in Huinrae.”

“Oh whatever do you mean Sachi? You are sure to get all of the attention at all the balls and galas. You always were the brightest star in school.”

“I...” she hesitated and pulled her hand back. “I shouldn’t say...”

“What do you mean, you know you can tell me, Sachi.” Ga-In moved closer and placed her hand on Sachi’s.

Sachi’s smile was timid and beguiling. “I know I can trust you,” she whispered.

“Is there someone else? A boy?” Ga-In asked, “A girl?” she added as an afterthought.

Sachi’s cheeks reddened. “Well, I...” she giggled softly and turned to look at the sea as it expanded the distance between them and Sunju. “Will you promise not to tell? I... I have never told anyone before...”

Ga-In’s smile was a fox’s behind sweet eyes. “I swear,” her voice was husky, intimate.

“I... well... oh no, I couldn’t. I don’t want to burden you with a potential scandal.”

Ga-In reached for Sachi’s cheek and caressed it. “Scandal might be the only thing helps me find a match half as good as yours. Tell me your secret.”

“Oh okay,” Sachi’s shoulders rounded and she took a step closer to Ga-In, she could feel the girl’s heat as if it were her own. “I think I have feelings for... for you...” she hesitated for a moment then took Ga-In’s face in her right hand and pulled her in for a deep kiss. At first her schoolmate froze; she could feel her body stiffen in confusion for just a moment before relaxing and melting into her.

She pulled back, her deep ocean blue eyes cold and calculating, her right hand still on Ga-In’s cheek. “And I know you’re working for my uncle.” The knife appeared in her left hand and jammed itself into Ga-In’s stomach. It did not take long for blood to start welling up out of her mouth, staining her perfect, pouty lips. “You should not have been so obvious. You are a good kisser though.” She kissed her once more, tasting the thick red blood, then pushed the dying girl overboard. She didn’t even have time to squeak as she fell. The splash was soft and unremarkable. She didn’t resurface.

She returned to her quarters below deck, nodding to her sister on the way.

[The Good Hunter]

Prosperity and Beauty
On the Coasts of Lemuria, the Uttermost East
(Private)

They’d been sailing along the coasts for so long now it felt as if she’d spent her entire life on this boat. The claustrophobia and boredom had taken their toll on Miin Si. There were only so many places she could go, none of them private, and only so much she could stand having eyes on her. Her sister’s eyes were one thing, those had never left her since they’d been born, but the eyes of the sailors were another. She could feel their eyes watching her as she went up on deck to practice her forms. She could feel the way they gawked and stared. She could not read minds, but she didn’t have to in order to understand what these wretched people wanted. Miin Si wanted to toss them all overboard. She’d even given Sachi a good pitch to do it. They’d drug the soju and toss them overboard, one by one, under the cover of night. It was a brilliant, foolproof plan. The sailors were not a careful lot and took great pleasure in drinking and drinking and drinking. Miin Si never understood the love of alcohol. It was mostly flavorless and burned her throat going down. She much preferred tea. It didn’t matter anyway, Sachi vetoed the idea as soon as it was out of her mouth.

They’d been on edge since she sent the spy overboard and it had taken a long time to earn this much trust in them. Sachi told the captain that the girl insulted their mother and she reacted as any good Lemurian girl would do to such a brazen dishonor: she stabbed her and sent her overboard, all without thinking of the consequences. The captain seemed to buy it, but the rest of the crew were suddenly wary of them, looking at them with orange tinted mistrust. They used to sing songs at all hours of the night, drunken tales of port misadventures and soft-eyed girls, now they whisper stories about “the kumihos” that they’d brought on board. It was a dangerous cat and mouse game. Miin Si knew that it would not be long before something happened and set the kindling alight.

Sachi proposed a different idea. Instead of killing them all and leaving the pair of them to sail the ship, she proposed a feast. The lunar new year was approaching and, being nobles, it was their duty to provide sustenance and celebration. The reasoning was almost as flimsy as her own but required less subterfuge and was less risky. They would be stopping to resupply in two days, Sachi gave Miin Si a list of things she would need to procure and admonished her to do it without the crew’s assistance. The less they were involved, the better. That suited Miin Si just fine, she was not convinced there was not another saboteur sneaking and slithering amongst the crew.

They finally made port, a tiny village whose name escaped Miin Si as soon as she heard it. There were a thousand little towns all along the coast of the world that looked identical to this one, why was it so important? She could smell a sweet cacophony of a thousand fruits long before she made it to the market, she had been able to smell it before she even left the ship. She didn’t like leaving Sachi aboard by herself, but her twin sister assured her that she didn’t need a guardian.

The market was busy. The town could not have been home to more than a hundred or so people but the marketplace itself seemed about to burst with five times that number.

“Fresh caught river catfish! Eels! Lampreys! Herring! Get your fresh caught fish here, perfect for a new year celebration!”

“Rice cakes! Rice cakes! Can’t have a new year feast without rice cakes!”

“Soju! Soju and exotic whiskies and ales! Herbal teas of a hundred different varieties!”

“Silk! Cotton! Cashmere!”

“Kittens! Puppies! A new year means a new pet! Kittens! Puppies!”

There so many carts and kiosks and stalls and so many people that Miin Si thought she’d stepped through some sort of portal. It was impossibly loud and impossibly packed. There was a lingering odor of feet and human mixed with the fish and fruit and tea. She couldn’t tell if it was truly unpleasant or just unnerving. Sunju was just as loud and invasive, but the market there was also a hundred times the size of this place. Someone was trying to pack as many people as possible into the smallest area. And Miin Si had merrily joined the troupe of trapped fish without so much as a yelp of protest.

Still, it was not a bad place. There was so much food here, so many varieties of meat with more spices than she thought possible. Street cooks plied her with all sorts of samples until her mouth felt like it was on fire. She’d never had beef so savor or peppers so hot. It was invigorating, her fingers tingled with anticipation. She could feel the fire ready to burst off her lips with fangy bites. She grinned and bought a hogshead worth of the peppers. It wasn’t on Sachi’s list, but they soon found their way on their anyway. She wedged her way through throngs of people, squeezing through bodies hard and soft. She was nearly done with the list, the sack on her shoulder was growing heavier and heavier. It was filled with onions and cuts of beef and rice and crabmeat and eggs and spices as myriad as the sand. She was nearly done when something landed on her opposite shoulder. Her eyes went wide with momentary terror. There were more than a few birds fluttering around the market and for a heartbeat, she feared the worst. She turned and stared directly into the eyes of a monkey.

“Excuse you!” she tried to shoo it off, but it only grabbed her finger and began chittering excitedly. She was about to go for the knife at her hip when a plump lady moved into view, arms waving about frantically.

“Akercocke! Akercocke what are you doing, get done from there!”

Miin Si did not release her grip on the dagger. “This little pest is your pet? Remove it before I remove its head.”

The woman’s face reddened with terror and embarrassment. “Oh! Oh my lady I am so sorry! I did not mean to offend such a highborn lady as yourself. He gets away from me from time to time and likes to go off and cause trouble. Akercocke, get down!” The monkey did not let go of Miin Si’s finger, but he did turn to look at the woman and giggle. “Oh no! Oh! Akercocke! Get down this instant, you ill-behaved imp!”

“What is he?” Miin Si asked, a hint of genuine curiosity.

“A menace,” the woman said, wiping her brow. “Come on now, the noblewoman is going to eat you if you don’t get down.”

“I daresay I am not!” Miin Si said with a chuckle and a scowl. “Is he your pet?”

Akercocke screeched at her and let go of her finger. However, he stayed put on her shoulder.

“No, no he’s a pest that found me a few weeks ago and decided to stay with me. I have no idea where he came from or what he is, besides some kind of monkey. Get down!” she moved, quick as an adder, and scooped him off her shoulder. Miin Si finally released her knife’s hilt.

“So you’re his pet?”

The woman rolled her eyes and glared at the monkey. “He would like to think so. I am so sorry my lady. Please, come to my stall and pick yourself out something for the inconvenience he’s caused you.”

She grabbed Miin Si’s hand with a grip tighter than steel and led her through the throngs of people. Soon, she lost all sense of direction, the people, the fabrics, the smoke and shadow, it was all too much for her to keep track of. She was about to pull her hand back and slap the woman when she stopped in front of a stall crowded with stuffed animals. There were so many, all different sizes and shapes and textures. They were all well-made and well-formed. They had structure and recognizable shapes rather than blobs of linen and thread like Miin Si used to make before she gave up sewing for swords.

“Please, my lady. Accept my most humble apologies for Akercocke’s behavior and take something for yourself. New years is coming soon. Perhaps you know someone who would like this as a gift?”

Miin Si didn’t see the harm in looking. She wasn’t pressed for time and there was a bubble around this stall that most of the marketeers would not cross. There was a busker across the way, juggling fruit whilst balancing on a thin stick. Miin Si wondered if the monkey would bother him and make him fall over and break something. That would be a nice end of her day. She smiled.

“What about this one?” Miin Si picked up an orange stuffed dog with an almost noodle-like middle. At first, she thought it was a dragon of some kind but the face was all wrong, he was jowly with bright eyes and no feathery lashes. “What is this supposed to be?”

The big woman’s face brightened with glee and pride. “That is Jake.”

“Jake?”

“Yes, Jake.”

“What’s a Jake? Some kind of hound or dragon or…”

“Oh no!” the woman reassured her. “Have you not heard the tale of Jake the Dog and Finn-Adan?”

Miin Si certainly had not. It sounded like some western colonizer story. “Jake” was not a name one heard in Lemuria. It sounded like a fruit dish.

“Jake is a dog,” the woman began. “and he goes around having adventure times with his friend. They once saved my village from a horde of dokkaebi. He was all stretchy and grew to a great size to smash the goblins while the boy used a sword made from grass to cut them down. I make these dolls as a blessing to them.”

Miin Si pursed her lips. It was an odd story indeed, but not a bad one. The little stuffed dog looked rather cute, in an ugly sort of way. “I’ll take him. I think my sister would like him very much.”

“Oh!” the woman yipped with glee, a bright toothy smile bouncing on her face. “Oh mistress you do me a great honor. I know your sister will love Jake. He will bring protection and security wherever he goes.”

Miin Si cocked an eyebrow.

“I give all my toys and dolls blessings so that they bring good fortune to their new owners. All my Jake dolls carry spells and incantations of protection, far-seeing, and song.”

“Far-seeing? Well, fate must be on your side today good mistress. My sister favors herself a seer. She will love him.”

Miin Si returned to the ship, laden with supplies for a new year's feast and then some. The ship was ghostly quiet, she slipped below decks and found her sister in their room, nose in a book of poetry. “Sachi! You’ll never guess what I found!”

[The Good Hunter]

Harlequin Forest
TA 3003, The Wild Woods
(Private)

His woods were quiet; a breeze smelling of honeysuckle and jasmine blew down from the mountains north, insects buzzed and chirped overhead, a few hundred paces off the path he could hear a pair of cuckoo birds singing to each other. Sunlight filtered down through gaps in the feuillemorte leaves. He smiled and dared to close his eyes for just a moment. He liked to conceptualize his killing move before he made it. He gripped the spear, one of his most prized possessions, in his hand. He’d had this spear for years, decades. He could still remember the heat of to forge when he made the spearpoint, could still remember the intense fragrance of the wood as he cut it and shaped it. He made each step furtively, walking on the balls of his feet as he moved closer and closer. The elf was close by, a willow tree in the midst of cedars. He looked so out of place that the hunter wondered if this hunt was going to end prematurely, without the thrill of a chase. He loved the chase. It did not matter the quarry, elk or boar, the chase was the most exhilarating part, chasing or being chased did not matter to him. The air in his lungs, the fire in his blood, the inability to predict the outcome. He was a man that loved danger; it was danger, at his age, that kept him alive. He could feel his pulse in his fingers. He held his breath. The unsuspecting sounds of his prey drew him close. He tightened the grip on his spear and readied himself to –

“Look out Yolfist!” The elf cried.

The hunter whirled around, his rage building into an instant crescendo. How dare this elf…

Then he saw what the elf saw. The boar he’d been hunting was immediately forgotten and instead he started backpedaling as fast as he could. Out from the underbrush was coming something much larger, much more dangerous that a boar. It roared as it burst onto the forest’s path. A bear. A massive bear, larger than any he’d ever seen. The creature pushed a tree out of its path and the wood toppled over as if it had been constructed by children. The hunter looked wide eyed at the beast as it sniffed the air angrily. Bears were not uncommon in the Wild Wood, no animal could be said to be “uncommon” here, but more often than not a bear was a rare sight. They preferred the steppes to the northwest. This bear though, this was no common bear. The fur was thick and matted, shades of black, brown, grey, even blue. It moved under the shadows of the trees, disappearing and reappearing. This was an old bear, that sort of camouflage took a very long time to develop, and even more time to utilize. The bear’s eyes were sharp and fierce. They stared at one another, hunter and bear, for what seemed like an eternity. His heart sagged in his chest when he saw markings on the bear. He had hoped to be able to scare this bear away, to send it back into the forest and let them both go on with their lives. Bears could be convinced, more or less, that some opponents were not worth the battle, but this bear would not be one of them. At the elbows and shoulders were thick bony protrusions that could be mistaken for stone or daggers. This was no ordinary steppe bear wandering down into the valleys. This was a direbear. He was still confident he could take the bear, he was a hunter and a chieftain, confidence was in his blood, sweat, and tears. This battle, though, was not going to be an easy one, nor would it be quick.

Then the elf jumped between them, landing with the grace of dancer. The hunter looked at him with wide eyes. Only a fool would do something like that. Catching the attention of a direbear was a death sentence to anyone without experience. The elf stretched his arms out over his head and walked forward. Something came from his mouth then, not speech or song, not quite, but something like that. Pure music came from the mouth of the elf, notes and rhythms that seemed impossible. He took a step forward. The hunter griped his spear and took a step behind the elf. The elf then put out a hand in warning, halting the hunter in his tracks. Both he and the bear were transfixed by the music. He swallowed hard and felt his hands grow heavy. The elf took another step forward. The bear stepped back, it had been standing on its hind legs, nearly sixteen feet tall. He blotted out the sun with his massive shadow. The air caught in the hunter’s throat. The bear moved back though, the music from the elf effecting in it in some queer way. His own head felt like it was swimming. The world stretched and squeezed together, breaking his depth perception. He felt drunk or perhaps like he’d spent the evening in the shaman’s quarters. What was happening? The elf took another step forward. The music was commanding but gentle. He couldn’t quite place what instrument it sounded like, it sounded like all of them and none of them all at once. The bear was moving backward, its head down. It growled, but the sound was weak and sad. The music turned mournful, it spoke to the hunter of all the broken days that stretched behind him and all the tragedy he’d seen. He wanted to cry, to drop his spear and weep. The elf took another step forward, but his hand was outstretched now, rather than trying to appear large and intimidating to the direbear, he was looking to take the beast’s paw. The music never stopped. There was no pause, no breath, no break in the illusion. The hunter watched in awe. The elf took the bear’s paw in both his hands, the music turned to something joyful, something bouncy and silly that spoke of rambunctious youthful dances. The bear growled something that might have been a laugh.

“It’s alright then, young one,” the elf said. “Go home and rest.”

The direbear inexplicably turned and wandered back into the forest. After just a heartbeat, the great ursine beast was gone and the forest that had been holding its breath, relaxed. The hunter straightened and exhaled. He had been holding his breath without realizing it, anticipating a bad end. He blinked, trying to clear the fog in his mind, and flex his hands over and over, trying to bring life back into them.

“What was that, Laergulron?” he asked, recovering his breath.

“Well, that was a direbear,” said the elf, turning and grinning. “Oh, you mean the song. Well, you and your people call me ‘The Man with the Sorcerous Song’, don’t you? I did not earn that name lightly.”

“You… you sang, but that was not like any song I’ve ever heard,” he said, bewildered. “I’d heard that some elves had a power in their voice that could change the world around them, shape earth and air at their will. I never thought it was real, I thought it was just a myth, a story.”

The elf smiled and nodded his head. “Aye, Chieftain Yolfist, it is a myth, but all myths are born from a kernel of truth, a seed of story. I was born with a talent for singing. Most of my kin can sing with voices clear like silver bells and waterfalls, but only a few of us can sing, if you catch my meaning. We cannot shape reality or bend the world to our will, but we can create illusion, change moods, move even the angriest, wrathful creature to pity.”

“It is a gift from the gods themselves, surely. How did you learn such a talent?”

The elf nodded, solemnly. “It was inborn. Even as a child, I found I could affect and influence the world around me. I lived in an apple orchard for a time, and I could sing to the trees and make them produce larger fruits than any had seen.”

“You are a wizard, the one they call Incánus in the southlands.”

The elf laughed and shook his head. “No, no my friend. I am no wizard. Nor have I even met the one of whom you speak. He is something else entirely, a creature of the uttermost west. I am an elf, pure and simple.”

The hunter laughed then. “A pure and simple elf? A pure and simple elf? As if there was ever such a thing. Tell me Laergulron, have you ever met anyone who agrees that you are simple elf?”

“I suppose I haven’t,” the elf mused. “But I am not one worthy of song or tales. That is an honor reserved for ones greater than I.”

“Not worthy of song? Laergulron, my people will tell stories of what you have just done. A direbear. Do you know what a direbear is? How dangerous they are?”

The elf stretched his back, spreading his arms and chest wide open. “I know a little. My foster father once captured some on Númenor, Westernesse, and brought them to Middle-earth.”

The hunter blinked. “What? Your father wrestled with bears? He must be a great elf indeed, the lord of some great land? Perhaps you are the son of Celeborn?”

“Again, I must disappoint you, Yolfist. My father is not the lord of some vast land, nor is he the Lord Celeborn of Lothlórien; nor did he wrestle the bears. He has a way of speaking to them, a way of making them understand him.”

“Elves are magical folk,” the hunter said breathlessly.

“Perhaps,” agreed the elf. “But we are not quite so heroic or mysterious as we come off in songs and tales. I tell you the truth, Yolfist. I am no great elf, no lord or warrior or wizard. I am a gatherer of tales and memories.”

“So that is why you have come to see me? Not to dissuade me from going to war, but to hear my stories?”

The elf bit his lip and took a deep breath. “I will not lie, my friend. I have more than a singular purpose here. War is coming, that much has been clear for nigh on a century, and it could very well be the war that ends all wars. I do not wish to fight in it though, nor do I wish for others to be drawn in unnecessarily.”

“But,” the chieftain said, “if war is coming, if it is to be the greatest war of the age, should I not take part? Should I not ride my steed into battle and win glory?”

“I have lived for a very long time, Chief Yolfist. I have seen wars that end ages. I have fought and understood the price of glory. I have lost more than I could ever put into words.”

“As you say though, you have lived a very long time. And you will continue to live on,” countered the chief. “I am a man, a fleeting shout across the mountains. If I do no shout loud enough, my echo will not outlast me. If I am forgotten by my people, then what was my life for? Glory might not be what you seek, you may seek anonymity, elf, but I cannot afford that. Glory is the currency of time, and that is all I and my people have.”

“Surely, though,” the elf said, “you would rather grow old with generations three and four beyond you at your feet listening to your tales? Surely a life of peace is worthy of songs and a glory of its own?”

The chief put his hand on the elf’s shoulder. “I think there more things for you to learn and understand, Laergulron. Peace and glory are what we all hope for, but we can only have one. And peace, sadly, does not make for fantastic tales.”

“Then who would you fight for, Chief Yolfist? In this coming war, a war to end an age, what side will you and your people take?”

The chief sighed and shook his head. “Elf, I will protect my people. If that means fighting alongside the tribes that fight for Mordor, so be it. If it means adding the men of Gondor and Rhovanion, then I will ride with them. Come. Come with me and let me show you something. Have you ever seen the world tree? The sacred cedar? Come with me and look upon it. Perhaps you and I will learn something and come to a better understand there.”

Without waiting for the elf to respond, the chief turned to go. The hunt could continue some other time. He still had a hunger for boar but now something had come to his attention that overrode his hunger. It was time to visit the witch.

[The Good Hunter]

When Shall the Wheel Come 'Round Again?
Years After the War, Near the Borders of Gondor
(Open)

She looked at the boy again. Still asleep. His sleep was untroubled by the turbulence around him. He had not stirred since the thunder began rolling outside. She envied him that. Sleep, untroubled sleep. What a beautiful thing it could be. She hunted untroubled sleep as if it were a deer yet she never found herself within striking distance. Untroubled sleep for an orc was too wary a prey, too canny and too alert. As of now it had been four days since she’d slept. She could go for longer, orcs were built for endurance, but the prospect was an unwelcomed one. She could watch the boy sleep. Whenever she found herself troubled, worried, whenever her anxiety and fears began to overwhelm her, she could look at the boy. He slept soundly, snoring gently, all wrapped in animal furs. He was insulated against the worst fangs of the storm outside, wild winds and sleet. They were deep enough in the cave, too, that maybe the rumblings did not reach him in the depths of his dreams. What did the boy dream, she wondered. He was an imaginative child, she saw that in the carvings he did, in the paintings he left on walls, in patterns in the dirt, but he rarely spoke of the tourbillion of his mind in the mundane art of speech.

There was a peel of thunder so loud it shook the stones around Gaoth. She jumped. She hadn’t seen the lightning bolt ride in front and was caught off guard. The boy, though, did not stir. His breathing remained calm and steady. She breathed heavily. She was envious and she was grateful. They had not had easy lives in the past years. He deserved whatever little sleep he could get. She would kill anyone that disturbed her child, even a storm. He was not really her child, a voice told her for the umpteenth time, he was a child of a slave she managed to save in the carnage of the post-war hysteria. His real mother was long dead, a shell of a girl before she gave birth. Gaoth could not even recall what her name was or what she looked like. The boy was very much his own creation. He appeared out of the formless void and beckoned unto her. He was born of a slave, but he was a child of no one, nothing. Gaoth missed her sister. How long had it been since they had seen each other? Before the Tark Purge, they had managed to take refuge on the southern shore of the Sea of Núrnen. Without the Nine or the One, there was chaos, no true leaders, just fools ready to grasp at any power they could. She and her sister owned the breeding pits and were seen as valuable. That kept them alive in the tumult. But then the Purge came, Gondorians bright and white as the shining solar eclipse. They killed everything they could set a blade to and that which they could not, they set a flame to. Fields of wheat, rapeseed, and barley all gone in an instant. Four years. That’s how long it had been. She and her sister lost each other in the Purge. Was she still alive? Was she looking for her sister? Some questions could never be answered, no matter how simple they might feel.

The boy stirred again, shifting in his sleep. He let out a gaseous flatulence that would have made any male orc proud.

He was all she had left now. They had been wanderers, vagrants, unwelcomed refugees everywhere they went. He was all of her old life that could be saved. She could have been called opulent in Mordor. It would not have passed for much elsewhere, but in the Black Lands she was a member of the upper crust, and still rising. Now she hid in caves with a human child to wait out storms. They never had enough provisions, often she would go hungry to make sure her son had something to eat, and even that was not enough. He was an edain, at least that’s what his features told her, his father was a mystery and his mother was a craven, yet here he was, nonetheless. Who would trust an orc and a child? No one, of course. They were hunted more often than not. Indeed, the only reason they were in this cave, braving this storm, at all was for that reason. A hunter, a ranger, was on their trail. She’d managed to avoid him, cutting through a too-narrow ravine, but he was as tenacious as he was bloodthirsty. He was dogged, hungry, and malicious. He caught up to them again two days ago, Gaoth and the boy managed to ford a flooding river, but it would only be a matter of time before he caught up to them again.

Was this really what she had been reduced to? It galled her. Hunted like a frightened rabbit. That’s why she had not slept. Every shadow could be him, every scrap of rock. How far down did this cave go? Was there an exit? Had she doomed herself and her son by coming here? They had gone to bed hungry tonight. They were near the end of their stores of dried meat and hard tac. If they did not find something tomorrow, once the storm cleared, they would be in trouble. Gaoth could go without, but not a growing child. Not her son.

She looked at him again, a crack of lightning appearing above him to give him a momentary, unearthly glow.

How strange it was, that she, Gaoth, should behave so maternally. She disliked children. Of any race. She reveled in the process of making the children but hated the end result. Why did this boy matter to her? The question did not really matter. She could navel gaze on the philosophies and metaphysics of the situation until she was a crone, but she knew the end result would be the same: she was never going to leave him, never going to allow harm to come to him. Orc or Tark, she would kill anyone that stepped between them. Her stomach growled. It had been growling for years, unsatisfied and unfulfilled. She would give her red right hand for a mug of black ale and a shank of beef or a turkey leg. She looked at the boy again. He was still sleeping deeply. His features were relaxed. He was too skinny though. That unbidden voice of the mother told her that he must eat and he must he well. She watched him, still as a statue. Thunder and lightning boomed and flashed about her.

She sighed. There was nothing for it. She was going to have to brave the storm and see what she could find. Surely there was something caught out in the torrent, or mayhaps there was a farm nearby whose sheep she could steal, a wandering horse, anything. She had a sword. It wasn’t exactly a hunting weapon, and it wasn’t a very good sword to begin with, but it was better than her bare hands. She moved silently, fearing any stray sound would wake the boy, a ridiculous notion given how deeply he was sleeping through the rains, but motherhood did not always equate rational.

She took one last look at him, then climbed to the entrance of the cave and out into the storm.

(17)

[The Good Hunter]

When Shall the Wheel Come 'Round Again?
Years After the War, Near the Borders of Gondor

The hunting was good, if wet. The storm continued to rage and sound about her, crashing and booming and drenching the landscape in such waves that one could have believed a forgotten storm god was rampaging through the heavens. The lands about Gaoth was hilly and pockmarked with caves and tunnels. At the zenith of Mordor’s influence these fields might have been excellent training grounds, places to practice the lightning assaults they used to be known for. Now, it was a lonely, forsaken landscape who held on the ghosts of past civilizations. Each burst of lightning revealed a greying landscape flecked with green, set against a vast, monstrous sky. Gaoth could swear there were teeth in the clouds and eyes that watched impassively. There were trees here and there, hardy ones with thick trunks and gnarled branches. There were likely some bird nests tucked away until evergreen needles, but the winds from the storm drove out all notions from the orc’s mind of climbing and finding out.

While orcs, humans, and elves might have abandoned this place, nature had not. The fields were teaming with life. On her belt were four rock squirrels already. The creator, whoever and wherever they were, had a cruel sense of humor. The smallest, most difficult to catch prey had barely enough meat to satisfy even the smallest of orc children. Gaoth had never been a great hunter, she was a slaver and administrator, bureaucracy was her hunting grounds, not fields and meadows in the dark of stormy night. She was not patient, elsewise she might have more than just four of the beasts tied to her hip. How much longer could she go without eating? How long could the boy? It was a cold question, a knife in the back of her mind to which she could not find the sheath. Food and its lack were permanently on her mind. Each trudging mile the questions cycled and resurfaced. She could go without for quite some time, but the boy, her human son, could not. He needed to be fed often, a bottomless pit. Orcs his age were voracious eaters; she wasn’t much of a mother, but she knew how to raise a child. What she previously lacked in maternal instinct she made up for in eugenic efficiency. Or at least, she had.

Every day with the boy made her feel her deficiencies keenly. Each day she learned just how deep the well of her unknowledge went. It was staggering, motherhood was a constant dance on the edge of a crumbling cliff.

She was far too cold and wet for these thoughts now though. She needed to find something more than squirrels.

Gaoth crept along down the rocky slope of a hill, moving slow despite the cold urging her to move faster. There was the glimmer of a stream at the bottom of the hill, the flashes of lightning revealing a moderate flow. It was turbulent and awash in the storm, uneasy and deceptive. Gaoth did not trust water. She lived most of her life near the Sea of Núrnen and heard enough tales of drownings and near drownings and things that crept in the dark muck of the bottom and slimy betentacled horrors that demanded worship and fleshy tribute. The waters of this stream were far from the inky doom of the sea, far from the brackish sludgy deltas. But all water has the mind of a trickster, from a trickle to a torrent. They had minds that no terrestrial being could hope to comprehend, and a malice that not even the Dark Lord could have contended with. Gaoth stood at the bank. She could feel the weight of the rain pulling her down, driving her into the mud. The wind lashed at her, screamed, and laughed at her reticence.

There was movement in the water.

It was barely perceptible, but it was there. Gaoth’s eyes caught it and tracked it amongst the hundreds of thousands of raindrops. There was something in the water, something large, larger than her. It moved stealthily but steadily, bobbing as it walked along the stream floor. Gaoth smiled. Water buffalo were rare. She’d never seen one live and in the flesh. The pictures and descriptions she’d read, the traveler’s accounts, and wild fireside tales did not do it justice. It was not a magnificently huge beast, but it was far more atavistic and splendid than the squirrel carcasses that hung from her belt.

Gaoth watched the beast move in stream. The world died away as she watched. The cacophony of the storm downshifted. The winds and cold did not subside, the world around the orc mistress whirled and swirled like ballerinas without a routine. The world continued to crash and rage, light mixed with dark, and shadows stretched and shrunk. Hours could have passed, days. Gaoth and the water buffalo. They watched each other in complete silence despite the roar of a storm.

She felt a hundred miles away from her own limbs the longer she stared. More and more disconnected with her physical self as she retreated into herself. A voice in the back of Gaoth’s head whispered something. Sweet and sinister. Just stop. Wait. Don’t move. Don’t breathe. Let go. Stop. Wait. Give in. Stop. Wait. Don’t move. Stop. Let go. Let go. Let go.

She could not deny how tempting the suggestion was to her tired ears. Her limbs were tired. Her mind was exhausted. Her heart was broken. She had been going forward for years without even realizing she was dead. She was nothing. No one. She was a blank space to be filled, but unable to be completed. She was a purposeless wraith blown about by a directionless wind. Mordorian detritus. Let go. Let go. Let go.

She took a step closer to the stream and felt her foot sink into the ice-cold mud. Freezing tendrils crawled up her legs like centipedes. She could feel the bite of the wind even if she could no longer hear it. Far away in her mind, far from the storm, she felt the rains batter her. She could not move. Her body moved forward but she could not move. Each step brought her closer to the edge of the stream, closer to a swirling, inky torrent. She wanted to scream, but her mouth was not hers. Let go. Let go. Let go!

“NO!”

The sound of her voice was an ill-conceived counterpoint, arhythmic to the music of the storm.

All of the noise came rushing back to her. Thunder boomed overhead, shaking everything. The world quivered and she stumbled to her knees, falling deeper into the mud. The rain was colder somehow, it bit at her hungrily. She could barely feel her feet, so numbed by the cold. The boy’s voice broke through momentarily, a single, soft word in the back of her mind that cleared the darkened, cobweb-riddled corridors. “Mom?”

The word was so soft and so clear she could whirled around, expecting to see the young human child standing there in the rain, drenched and shivering. There was nothing there, of course. No child. Her son was still safe in that cave, warm, covered in blankets, dreaming of days that might never come.

Gaoth pulled herself from the mud and wiped her face. The world was still a wild, angry torrent, but she could see. The water buffalo was gone. The self-induced trance had given the beast time to escape! She cursed, loudly.

Wait.

No. It was still here. It had moved, going downstream, but the beast was not gone. Gaoth shivered but smiled.

She moved into the stream. She could feel the cold but instead of numbing her, it pushed life into her, pushed drive and purpose into her blood and bones. Her breath fumed like a dragon. The air was getting colder and colder, but the orc could not be stopped. The stream was not deep. It could not deter her, could not impede her. She clenched her jaw, set in a wide, frantic grin.

The water buffalo moved faster, without turning to look, it knew Gaoth was behind him. He could smell her, smell the hysterical need building in her and knew, instinctively, that need would explode in violent fashion.

As soon as it was clear of the stream, the water buffalo became moving quicker. It pulled itself onto the mud and nimbly stepped through it.

Gaoth was not far behind. She was no hunter, no warrior, but she was still an orc. Her blood knew what it was like to kill, even if she had never done so.

The sword, such as it was, burst from the sheath and in the same instance as a flash of lightning crashing on the other side of the stream the blade sliced through tendon’s of the water buffalo’s back left foot. It stumbled, then began to run. Gaoth howled and gave chase…

The rain had not let up by the time Gaoth returned to the cave, with a massive water buffalo carcass slung over her shoulders. She returned without fanfare, without catcalls and wolf whistles. She returned to see the form of her child still sleeping, curled in on himself. He woke when she set the carcass down, whimpering as the world came back into focus for him.

“Mom? Is that you?”

“It’s me Silmorien. How did you sleep?”

The boy smacked his lips and stretched his arms out in all directions, doing his best imitation of a cat. “I slept okay. Is it still raining outside?”

A crack of thunder and another downburst of howling rain answered his question.

“I found us something to eat,” Gaoth said.

“What is it?” the boy asked.

“A water buffalo.”

“Do those taste good?”

“I suppose, my child, we will have to find out.”

“Okay,” the boy said, standing. He accepted his mother’s answer without hesitation. He walked to the cave wall opposite Gaoth and traced his fingers along imaginary lines. “I wish we had something to draw with,” he decried.

“I know, I know,” Gaoth answered. “Perhaps when we come on a trading town we can find you something.”

“You promise?” he asked, turning to face her.

“Yes. I promise.”

[The Good Hunter]

When Shall the Wheel Come 'Round Again?
Years After the War, Near the Borders of Gondor

The rain did not stop by the next morning. Outside the cave, the storm raged and battered the earth with more water than either Gaoth or Silmorion could have thought possible. Thunder continued to boom, and the winds continued to howl and tear at the earth. The pair moved deeper into the cave. The world was dark, colder, but it was drier. They moved their fire, huddled around the sparse, smoky flame like cult initiates. The boy was wrapped in so many blankets he looked at least twice his normal size. He was not a large boy, but now he looked positively round. It was a comical sight, and it brought a small measure of joy to Gaoth’s heart. It was not often they experienced anything close to happiness or joy or even contentedness. They had to latch on it, hold it, savor it. The fire made her nose itch, and the smoke made her eyes burn, but she stayed close for the boy’s sake. For her sake too, she’d grown dependent on the boy in her own way. He was the one consistent thing in her life. He was a point of light on which she could focus.

She sneezed, rubbed her nose, then put an arm around the blanket bedecked six-year-old. He wiggled as if he’d been woken from a light sleep, then shuffled closer to her. The furs were beginning to smell ripe. They were going to need to wash them soon, but this storm had to let up before they could do anything.

Gaoth had gone out again last night in search of wood. She found a good amount but of course it was all soaked through. It would be a while before it was dry enough to use in the fire.

There was another fire a few paces away, deeper into cave in a smaller alcove with what looked like a natural chimney structure. Meat was drying and smoking over that fire. It was far, far too smoky to sit around.

“Mom?” the boy said at length.

“Yes?” Gaoth answered a few moments later.

“What are we going to do?”

She furrowed her brow. “What do you mean? We’re waiting out the storm. I’m doing my best to make sure you stay dry.”

“No, not about that stuff,” he said, his green eyes intent on the small flame bouncing back and forth in their pit.

“Then what ‘stuff’ do you mean?”

“I mean with all this travelling. What are we going to do?”

The orc sighed. This was not the first time he’d asked about this, and it would not be the last. That did not, however, make answering this question any easier. “I don’t know,” Gaoth said, “I wish I could tell you I’m looking for something or someplace, but I don’t know.”

“What if we found a place we could stay? What if one of those trading towns lets us stay?”

“They wouldn’t, Silmorion.”

“But what if?” he insisted. “What would you do?”

Gaoth stopped to think. What would she do if they actually allowed her stay? Most trading towns they’d come through were in Rhûn or Khand and were nominally more accepting of orcs than Gondor or Rohan would have been, but they were by no means friendly. Gaoth had never felt so many eyes on her as she did when she was in those makeshift villages, and she’d lived her entire life under the gaze of the Lidless Eye. Tensions were always high around her. One wrong move, one wrong word, and the passing civility would turn to bloody hostility in a moment. It galled the orc that she had to remain calm, had to follow rules and play polite and demure. It was worse with the boy though. An orc and a human traveling together? There was something evil afoot, most of the traders would imagine, and Gaoth and her child would have be make a very hasty exit before violence erupted.

“I’m not sure. I don’t have a trader’s skillset.”

“But you could learn. I could learn,” the boy insisted.

“I suppose we could. Why do you want to live in a trading town?”

“I don’t,’ he said with a shrug, “but it might be nice to stay in one spot for a little while. We move around too much.”

We move around too much. We move around too much. Those words stung Gaoth. They were true, and that truth was sharpened and poisoned by the Gaoth’s own inability to find an answer. What did she want to do? She didn’t want to live in a trading town, but she would if it meant her son would have a chance to live in a normal environment. Moving and traveling as much as they had was not natural. There was nothing for him to do, nothing to engage him. It didn’t matter how much she could teach him because it was never enough. She herself was learning things as they went and more often than not, they were wrong.

This was not the life a child should lead.

“We do move around too much,” she agreed.

“Can I have a cat?” he asked, the change in subject dramatic enough to make Gaoth turn from the fire to look at the boy. His face was wreathed in shadow, dancing flames casting a dozen shades of light across his face obsured by blankets and furs.

“What on earth would you do with a cat?” She asked, bemused.

His grin was wide and genuine. “I would name it Othren and let it sit on my shoulder. I would teach it to hunt so you didn’t have to go out in dangerous storm anymore.”

“What would you have it hunt? Mice and squirrels and birds? It would take an awful lot of them to make a decent stew.”

The boy rubbed his chin as if he were deeply considering her point. “True. Do cats like stew?”

“I suppose a cat will eat anything. But I’m not sure if we can manage that.”

“Yeah, I know. I wanted to ask. I’d really like a cat.”

Gaoth bit her lip. An animal companion was the last thing they needed. It was difficult enough to keep the boy fed. She sighed. It was hard to say no. Why the hell was it hard to say no? She could cow the nastiest orc in Mordor and make the smelliest troll back down, why could she not say “no” to a child? Motherhood was a strange beast.

“We shall have to see.”

“Promise?”

This boy made her make (and keep) more promises than she was comfortable with. “Once we figure out what we are going to do, Silmorion, I will give it more thought.”

The boy nodded and watched the fire. They both watched the fire. The flames were hypnotic and alluring. Gaoth swore she could see things dancing between the flames, wisps of something not light or shadow or smoke but tiny little beings that became visible just long enough to dance through each individual flame. It was mesmerizing.

Gaoth blinked. How long had they been staring at the fire? The air around her seemed colder somehow. Harsher. There was a prickle along the hairs on the back of her neck. The horrid sensation of being watched returned to her in sharp relief. Had something followed her from her hunt? The unreachable spot between her shoulder blades itched fiercely.

“Mom?” the boy asked, bringing Gaoth back to the present.

“Yes darling?” she asked, barely more audible than a whisper.

“Can we stay here?” his voice seemed so small against the sound of the raging storm outside.

“In the cave?”

“Yes,” he said, “It feels comfortable.”

The itch had not left Gaoth’s shoulders, she could still feel something watching her. “You might be an orc after all,” she said after a moment, “Are you sure this is a place you want to live?”

The boy, still bedecked in blankets, turned to regard his foster mother. His viridian green eyes watched her then moved to the cave walls. A smile grew on his face. He was dirty, just as much in need of cleaning as his blankets. “I think so. Did you ever live in a cave?”

Gaoth laughed, louder than she intended. “No, no there weren’t any caves around the Sea of Núrnen, none that would be worked as housing anyway. They were mostly tin or salt mines. Too busy for people to live in,” she reflected, “Prone to seasonal floods too, the great Sea was not a kind companion, no matter how much we worshipped it and tried to gain its favor.”

“Should we leave an offering here, in this cave? What should we leave?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Gaoth said.

“But maybe it will help. It might keep us safe,” the boy insisted.

“Fine,” Gaoth said, relenting. “Fine. What do you suggest we use as an offering?”

Again the boy rubbed his chin, an old man in thought. He tilted his head back and forth, actively considering things in his head and dismissing them. Gaoth was envious. She wanted to know what was going on in the mind of her son. Tonight’s outburst of questions was a rarity, too often he was quiet, not sullen or moody, just quiet. She wanted to know what he was thinking, what worlds of imagination and introspection was he creating and delving into? She supposed, in a practical sense, none of it mattered. As long as he did as he was told, as long as he didn’t cause a scene, he could be as introverted as he wanted.

“Maybe we should leave the squirrels?”

“The squirrels? That seems a rather poor offering.”

“I know, but we already have plans for the water buffalo parts. Maybe we can find something in the trading town. I think that would be enough.”

“You might be right,” Gaoth said, her eyes inadvertently moving about the cave, looking for signs of… signs of what, approval, disapproval, anger, welcome? She couldn’t say. The stone said nothing either. It remained as cold and impassive as ever. “Let’s get some rest though. If we’re going to live here for a while, we’re going to need to do some work.”

Silmorion’s grin was wide and toothy. “Thank you, Mom.”

Maybe Goath would actually get some sleep tonight. The itch between her shoulder blades faded to a dull reminder. They were still being watched, they were still seen by something, somewhere, but that was not a problem for now. Now as a time for sleep. Gaoth desperately needed it. She watched the fire as the boy laid back down and soon began snoring. Her eyes felt heavy, her mind drifted, and soon she was overtaken.

[Rillewen]

(Private)

|
Somewhere in Rhun
Spring of 3000, Third Age

The old man stooped, studying the ground. His garb was foreign, and different than the uniforms of Easterlings which frequently had to be driven out of Ithilien, but his face, his skin, hair, eyes… all of his appearance besides his clothing confirmed that he must be one of them. He straightened and looked around with a little frown, and seemed to reach into his clothing, as if for a weapon.

The Gondorian dropped out of the tree where he had been hiding, landing squarely on the invader’s shoulders. They both tumbled to the ground with a grunt. Both were on their feet swiftly, although, to Hal’s surprise, the old man leaped spryly to his feet faster than he did, and faced him in an unfamiliar form of fighting stance.

Sword drawn, the younger swung at the enemy only to find his opponent swiveling nimbly out of the way. A kick struck him in the back of his knee. Hal cringed as he felt his knee buckle, and dove to one side, rolling on the ground, and found his way back to both feet. He turned to confront his opponent again, only to find the old man flying toward him, his foot extended in a kick.

Hal had just enough time to lean to one side, barely missing the powerful kick that would have struck him squarely in the chest and sent him sprawling on the ground with the air knocked out of him. Instead, the old man flew right past him, landed smoothly on the ground and pivoted, hands up and ready to fight, feet in a wide stance. Strangely, his hands were held flat, not balled into fists.

Hal came at him with a flurry of slashes and stabs, but the old man somehow managed to either avoid or deflect each one, despite being unarmed. The young man was growing increasingly more amazed, and perhaps a tiny bit frustrated. Then, out of nowhere, the man spun in place, and one foot came up in an arc as he came around, striking Hal’s hand with such force, it knocked his sword arm aside just as he was about to strike to the man’s neck. His hand hurt, but he did not let go of his sword.

As he tried to swing again, the man swiftly stepped in, too close for the sword to be much use. He caught Hal’s wrist with a hand on each side, and with a smooth scissor-like flick of his hands, Hal’s sword flew out of his hand and went flipping through the air and hit the ground, too far for him to reach.

With his hand still trapped, Hal resorted to attempting some hand to hand techniques he’d learned in the rangers, but every move he tried, the old man outmaneuvered him. There was a moment when Hal managed to wrap his arm around the enemy’s throat. He got him into a headlock, and he thought for sure that in a few seconds, he’d be unconscious. Then he could subdue his enemy and get some answers…

But to his astonishment, the wiry old man somehow twisted himself out of Hal’s grip, and in the process, twisted Hal’s arm around so that he was pinned! He cried out as his arm, held out straight to one side of him, was pressed down so hard that he ended up falling facedown on the ground. The old man held his arm, with pressure just above the elbow, so that any move Hal tried, it hurt. He finally stopped struggling, breathing heavy, but felt annoyed with himself. Why was this old man so ridiculously skilled at fighting?

“Why are you attacking me?” The stranger demanded with a very noticeable foreign accent.

“I want to know where your people have taken my fiancé,” Hal answered through gritted teeth. “I don’t care how many of you there are, I’ll kill you all.” He vowed.

“I am not your enemy.” The old man stated calmly. “And I have nothing to do with those who took your fiancé.”

“Sure, you’re not,” Hal frowned. “If you aren’t one of them, then what are you doing here, where their tracks are?” Hal turned his head so that he could see him, as well as he could manage. “Waiting to ambush anyone following them? Maybe they sent you to cover their tracks?”

“I am seeking my granddaughter.” The man answered softly. He paused for a moment. “Please, I do not wish to harm you. I will release you now, if you will refrain from attacking again. I only want to continue on my way. Her life is in danger and I am in a hurry, and I have a difficult enough time making sense of these tracks as it is.”

Hal remained quiet for a moment, thinking about that. It occurred to him that throughout the entire fight, the old man had not once done anything to seriously harm him.. almost as if he were trying to avoid it. But it could still be a trick. Still.. he did offer to let Hal go. Would an enemy do that, after getting him pinned where he could easily kill him? Finally, he answered, “Alright. We will talk peaceably.” He agreed. To his relief, the old man released his arm and sat down, cross-legged, facing him. He looked quite calm, and looking at him now, it was hard to imagine he could be such an excellent fighter.

“You are an Easterling,” Hal observed with a frown as he sat up, one hand moving to hold his shoulder that had been put in a bind. “I know your kind. You serve the Shadow,” He narrowed his eyes as he shifted to mirror the old man’s position on the ground.

“You are mistaken, young man.” The older man denied. “Not all people of this land have turned to that foul darkness. There are some of us who have resisted the Shadow’s influence, and we have no association with those who are joined with him.” His expression darkened. “And now my granddaughter has been captured and taken away. I can only conclude that it is some of those evil men responsible. And I have come this far, seeking them. But my eyes are not so good as they once were, and I am not very skilled with prints left on the ground.” He reached into his tunic cautiously, watching Hal as he pulled out a device from his pocket. Eyeglasses.

Hal realized that must have been what he was reaching for when he jumped at him, and felt a bit bad for that. He nodded grimly as he considered the words about those who had taken the man’s granddaughter. “I’m seeking my fiancé, who was captured as well.” He explained quietly. “I can track pretty well, but..” The young man hesitated. “You fight like none I’ve ever seen.” He confessed with admiration. “I thought I was good.. I mean, I was considered a really good fighter among my fellow rangers, but..” He let out a soft laugh. “You make me feel like a new recruit, throwing me around like a rag-doll.” He shook his head in amusement, then sobered again. “I was following their trail when I heard you coming. I thought you...”

“…were one of them.” The man nodded in understanding with a tiny smile. “I see. That is why you ambushed me.” The old man considered for a moment. “The trail will be obscured now.” He spoke softly, with sadness in his voice. “I have come a great distance, and now..”

“No, I can still find it.” Hal assured him. He stood and looked at the old man thoughtfully. A part of him wanted to hold onto his caution, be wary, and not trust him. But another, inner sense was telling him that this was no enemy. “I meant what I said about killing every last one of those who had taken her, you know.” He mentioned. “I don’t know how many there are, but it seems to be a large group. I’ve been following them several days now, but they’re nearly two weeks ahead of me.” He motioned to the old man. “You fight very well, but what about when we find them? We'll be outnumbered.. and they may use bows and arrows. You’re good, but I doubt you could avoid arrows.. could you?” He raised an eyebrow as he held a hand down, in an offer to help him up.

The old man considered him for a long moment before taking his hand and letting him raise him up. “If I see them coming.” He answered with a smile. “I am Shen Yong, of the Realm known as Ôn. What you would call Farthest Rhûn, I believe.”

“Halberion Veranis,” The younger replied, shaking the elder's hand as long as he had a grip on it. “My family originally comes from the Southernmost part of Ithilien, but ever since those lands were invaded by the Shadow and his minions, we have dwelt across the Anduin, longing to retake our ancestral home someday.” He let out a sigh. “But right now, I just want my betrothed back safely. If the tracks of your granddaughter’s abductors have led you here, then it seems likely they are also the same people who have taken Amelina.” He frowned. “In which case, we are hunting the same group.” He walked over and picked up his sword, sheathed it, and turned to look at Shen Yong. “I’m going to continue trailing them.”

“I will join you, if you are through being hostile to me.” Shen smiled in humor.

Hal laughed softly. “I apologize for jumping to conclusions.” He paused, considering a possible proposition. “Perhaps we can help one another?” He looked curiously at Shen. “I am very curious about how you fight. I’ve never seen anyone do those things. Jumping through the air, spinning, kicking like that… How do you do that?” He asked, as he moved toward where the trail picked up.

“It is the result of a lifetime of training.” Shen answered, moving to follow him. “In my land, it is.. well, to translate to this language, it is known as the “Way of Hand and Foot”. There are few of us..Easterlings.. who resist the influence of Sûr. And we must fight fiercely, for we do what we can to hunt down all remnants of the Servants of Sûr.” He explained. “So, we ‘rebels’, as they call us, learn to fight as well as we can, however we can. Even without weapons. We will not allow the Lawmasters to gain control of us ever again.” He declared fiercely.

“I did not know about any of that…” Hal said thoughtfully. “I take it 'Sûr' is.. your word for.. the Dark Lord?” He asked.

Shen nodded.

“Hmm. I have only ever encountered Easterlings who serve the Shadow. They come to invade Ithilien, where I used to be a ranger.. until quite recently.” Hal replied, crouching to examine a footprint. “Your fighting style though.. it’s quite effective." He glanced toward him with a grin. "I would.. like to learn it, if I may?” He looked at Shen with a hopeful smile.

“We will see,” Shen replied a little elusively. “It takes a great amount of dedication to be able to master Magtāl-Leñ. Let us worry about finding these bad men, for now.”

Hal nodded slowly. “Right. They went this way.” He grabbed his pack from where he’d hidden it before Shen came along, then set off following the trail as Shen fell into step beside him.

---

The unlikely pair traveled until the light was failing, and Hal could no longer see the ground well enough to follow the trail. Then, after bringing them away from the trail a short distance, he made camp. After they had eaten a simple meal, Hal leaned forward. “So, now that we can’t do anymore with the trail tonight,” He began. “What about this.. 'Way of Hand and Foot'.” He raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “Can I learn it?”

Shen gaze back at him thoughtfully for a moment. “You have potential.” He declared after a long moment of thought. “Not very many could dodge my kicks, and few could have put me into a headlock.” He smiled. “You are fast, and skilled, and nimble. But do you have the dedication that it requires, if I were to teach you?” He wondered aloud.

Hal smiled wryly. “Some say I’ve got the tenacity of a tick. And, I’m going to keep asking every evening, just so you know. Until you agree.” He grinned.

Shen laughed softly. “Then I will teach you Magtāl-Leñ.” He stood up. “Let us begin right away. We will work for an hour each night that we follow this trail, yes?”

“Sounds good to me.” Hal stood up, eager to learn. “What do I do?”

“Show me your fighting stance.” Shen waited while Hal shifted his stance, then went over to him and nudged his feet just a little bit this way or that to adjust his stance. By the time he had finished, Hal felt that his balance was just a bit better. “This is the Magtāl-Leñ fighting stance,” He explained, sliding easily into the stance himself. Then he shifted his feet a little bit. “We call this Walking stance. Side stance,” He shifted a bit, and then went through a few others before directing Hal to go through them a few times.

“Alright. I think I’ve got it,” Hal nodded, feeling fairly confident after going through the stances a few times. “Now what?”

“Now, blocking.” SHen showed him downward blocks, middle blocks, upper blocks, and all the basics of blocking with his arms. Once Hal was familiar enough with those motions, Shen tested his reflexes by throwing a few basic strikes, which Hal had to block.

As the hour progressed, Shen began throwing a few kicks along with hand strikes, making Hal block those, mixing it up so that Hal had to react swiftly. At the beginning, Shen was taking it slow, and gradually began increasing his speed as he sensed Hal being able to handle it.

Hal stayed in one spot at the first, but as the lesson progressed, he began moving around, pivoting as the strike seemed to call for it. Occasionally, Hal failed to block something, or his natural reflexes had him dodge instead of blocking, but still he continued to persist and did not give up no matter how sore his arms began to feel. By the end of the hour, Hal was blocking just about everything that Shen threw at him.

When Shen stopped attacking, Hal was breathing a little bit hard from moving around and trying to anticipate the next strike. He stood for a few seconds, waiting for another strike.

Instead, Shen put one fist into the palm of his other hand, so they were clasped under his chin, and bowed slightly. “Well done, Halberion. That concludes our lesson for today.” He declared.

Hal blinked and lowered his arms, straightening from his stance. He was hot and sweating, and his arms felt a little sore from repeatedly taking blows, but it was better to have a little bruise on the forearm than a possible broken rib or something. “What is that about?” He wondered, meaning the bow.

“It is a gesture of respect between honorable opponents, or between master and student,” Shen explained. “As you are now learning from me, the latter applies.”

“Ah.. I see.” Hal nodded, then copied the bow as well as he could. “Thank you,” Hal smiled as they both took a seat around the fire again. “I appreciate you teaching me this.. what’d you call it?”

“Magtāl-Leñ.” Shen replied.
“Magtāl-Leñ,” Hal answered slowly. “That means 'Way of Hand and Foot'?” He asked.
Shen nodded. “That is correct. All of my people train in this fighting style since they are very small. Even my granddaughter.”

“Really?” Hal was surprised to hear this, and smiled. “Is she good?”

“Mae Wen is very good at Magtāl-Leñ.” Shen smiled, then it faded. “It surprised me to learn she was taken by these people. They must have been too many for her.”

“Yes, there are a large number of them, I can tell from her tracks.” Hal agreed quietly. “Just out of curiosity, how old is she?”

“She is sixteen years old, and has been training since she was three. I worry about her a great deal, though. As you must worry for your fiancé, yes?”

“I do,” Hal nodded. “Amelina.. she’s only a couple years older than that. She doesn’t have any fighting skills, but she is certainly a feisty young lady.” He smiled a little lopsidedly. “I know from studying the scene where her carriage was ambushed that she put up a fight, but..” His smile faded and he sighed. “She’ll know that I’m coming for her. And that is why I want to learn your.. Magtāl-Leñ. So I’m as prepared as I can be to rescue her when I find her.”

Shen nodded in understanding. “Mae Wen will know that I’m coming for her, too.” He said softly. “Now. Let us sleep.”

“Right. Tomorrow, we’ll cover as much ground as we can before dark.”

“And when we make camp,” Shen leaned forward, “You will begin to learn how to do some new kicks.”

Hal grinned. “I can’t wait.” With that, he laid down on his bedroll. He lay awake for a long while, inwardly wrestling with the thought that he ought not so readily trust someone he’d met so recently.. yet, at the same time, feeling that he had made a new friend and comrade for this mission. Eventually, he gave in to the sleep; he’d had very little sleep these past few days, ever since he discovered that Amelina had been captured. He figured if Shen had wanted to kill him, he could have done it when he had him pinned on the ground. It was good to have found an ally, even one as unlikely as this one.


*In case anyone is curious, Magtāl-Leñ is my 'Middle Earth' version of Taekwando. I used Primitive Elvish to find a suitable 'middle earth' name to use, which seemed suitable to me, since according to my research, the Rhun area is supposed to be where the elves first awakened.

[Rillewen]

(private)

|
Somewhere else in Rhun
Spring of 3000, Third Age

The sun beat down relentlessly. Amelina was used to spending time outside in the garden, but this... this heat, the sun.. it was worse than she'd ever known. Her fair, freckled skin was sunburned, and a part of her wanted to cry from how much her reddened skin hurt. But she was also determined not to give her captors the pleasure of seeing her cry, knowing they would only laugh at her. Not if she could help it.

She watched nervously as several men fought one another. The ones who had ambushed her carriage, while she was passing through Ithilien on her way to join Hal at his family estate.. they were clearly Haradrim. There was little mistaking that, as much as she had heard her beloved speak about fighting these dark-skinned men from Harad, always invading Ithilien. But this new group... them she was not sure about. They looked.. different.

She, along with the other captives, huddled together, fearful to see the outcome of this attack. The Haradrim folk had been frightening enough, but these other newcomers, they seemed greater in number, and fiercer still. Amelina fought to suppress a surge of panic as a few of the newcomers broke off from the fighting and moved toward the captives. She had no idea what to expect.. were they going to slaughter them all?

As it turned out, they were taking the captives.. captive. Amelina had no idea what to think about this, but she tried her best not to tremble or cry out as her new captors took her roughly by the arm and dragged her toward a large wagon, while the main body of the attackers kept the Haradrim busy fighting. She considered resisting, but what would be the point? She had no idea whether she was safer with one group or the other, and while she could have tried to struggle.. what good would it do? Her hands were bound, and she was only one girl among all these warriors. Even the men who had originally captured her couldn't defeat them, evidently.

As her new captors shoved her into a wagon, a tiny glass bead dropped to the ground, unnoticed by any of the men. Amelina was, in a way, glad not to have to walk anymore, at least. Her feet were aching and blistered. Before long, the results of the battle were clear; the Haradrim were outnumbered and defeated. Seeing their captives taken from them, they weren't happy, but they realized they were no match for the larger group, so they retreated while they still lived.

---

"Your hair.. it's red," An accented voice spoke beside her, with a tone of marvel obvious in it.

Though still feeling a bit shaken and stunned, Amelina turned her head to see a girl near her, with long, straight black hair, and narrow eyes. Facially, she resembled the men who had attacked the Haradrim group. But she was also bound, Amelina noted. "Yes." She smiled wryly. "And red skin." She added softly, with a glance down at her sunburned arms. "Though.. that's not supposed to be red."

"I have never seen a red person before." The other girl mentioned curiously. "I have heard of Red Dwarves, but.. you do not look like them.. are you?"

"I'm not a dwarf, although I am quite short for a Gondorian," Amelina managed a weak smile. "I'm Amelina. What's your name?" She asked, feeling that it might help her feel more at ease, knowing who she was talking to.

"I am Mae Wen, of the family Yong." The girl smiled faintly. "You come from Gondor? I must be very far from home." The girl grew contemplative as she said this. "Your land is a long, long way from my home."

"I've far from home, too." Amelina informed her. "Those other men.. they captured me and the others a couple of weeks ago, and we've traveled a long way since then." She frowned. "And now.. this group.. I don't know who they are..." She glanced around nervously. All the while they had been talking, the wagons had been moving. The captives in the wagon were surrounded by armed men on horses, riding alongside them.

"They are called Sagath," Mae Wen supplied, softly, with a note in her voice resembling fear. "They took me from my home months ago. We have traveled far since then."

"Sagath..?" Amelina frowned, trying to think of where she might have heard that term used before. Then she remembered. "Wainriders.." She realized, feeling far more frightened, somehow, now that she knew who they were. For she had heard terrifying tales about those people.

"Do not worry," Mae Wen smiled as she leaned a little closer. "My grandfather is one of the best Kalrondākō* in all of On. He will come for me, and free all of us, when he finds us." She said with confidence.

Amelina smiled wryly. "I don't know what that means, but my fiancé will be searching for me, too." She said softly. "He's a ranger of Ithilien..." She glanced around. "but, he's going to be vastly outnumbered." She said with a sinking heart. Remembering how easily the band of Haradrim were overwhelmed, she worried about Hal. Would he even have help? Or would he come out here alone, seeking her by himself? She wasn't sure if he would have an opportunity to gather anyone to come to his aid.

Mae Wen looked around thoughtfully. The Sagath warriors were fierce, and they rode along beside the wagons on warhorses.The tribe's women and children rode in wagons, which were filled with all of their possessions, including the captured slaves. "My grandfather will find a way." She declared softly.

Amelina smiled. "So will Hal. But first, he has to find us. I don't know how long it will take for word to reach him that I've been captured."

"I think it must be taking Grandfather a very long time to find me." Mae Wen admitted sadly. "It has been months since they captured me. His eyes are not as good as they once were, and he does not know much about following prints."

"Well, Hal shouldn't have much trouble with that," Amelina answered softly. "He's good at tracking, and I've been leaving him clues when I can." She glanced slightly toward the men riding nearby, making sure they hadn't heard or understood. They did not seem to have heard anything. "Mae Wen," She turned back to the other girl. "How is it that you can speak the common tongue, when you say your home is very, very far from here?"

Mae Wen smiled. "Grandfather taught me, because he said we should know how to speak with our distant allies, in case we ever met any of them." She explained. "He heard tales once of a man** from far away in the West, who ventured into the East to fight the Shadow. He aided our people, but that was many years ago."

"Well, I'm glad you learned it," Amelina smiled faintly. "it's comforting to speak with someone who can understand me." She confessed. "We'll get through this, Mae Wen. We just have to be strong. They'll find us.. we'll be saved eventually." She just had to keep believing that. “We ought to.. do something, in the meanwhile.” The redhead frowned softly. “But what? What would Hal do?” She murmured thoughtfully.

We will have to escape.” Mae Wen whispered. “Together. All of us.” She looked around at all of their fellow-captives, then back to the red haired woman.

With a little flicker of hope, Amelina listened. “Do you.. think we can?”

“Grandfather says.. ‘Pearls don’t just lie on the seashore. You must dive to get one.’.” Mae Wen answered softly. “We cannot keep waiting to be rescued. We must ‘dive’.. and rescue ourselves. What if Grandfather cannot find us.. what if your Hal cannot, for some reason? It has been months since I was taken from my home, and I have been thinking about how I might be able to escape. But I haven't been able to do anything, by myself. Perhaps.. with you and those others to help...”

Amelina nodded slowly. “Yes, I agree.” She answered softly. “Do you have a plan?”


*a blend between kalrondō, "hero" and ndākō, "warrior, soldier", in Primitive Elvish. My attempt to create a Middle Earth word similar to Samurai, which, as best as I can tell, means soldier/warrior or similar
**It says in the Appendices that Aragorn went alone far into the East and deep into the South, exploring the hearts of Men, both evil and good, and uncovering the plots and devices of the servants of Sauron, and he said in the Council of Elrond that he has ventured into “the far countries of Rhun and Harad where the stars are strange”.

[Rillewen]

(Private)

|
Somewhere in Rhun
Spring of 3000, Third Age

“I was already here, before.” Shen mentioned, frowning as he recognized the area.

Hal glanced at him before returning his gaze to the ground. “There’s a lot of mixed-up tracks,” He mentioned, frowning. “I would guess.. a bit of a skirmish happened here.”

Shen frowned in concern. “A fight? What about the women?”

“Let me inspect the area a bit, alright?” The young man motioned for Shen to stand back. Then, he began to walk around carefully, trying not to disturb any of the tracks. “Our Haradrim raiders are the ones who came through Ithilien,” he muttered to himself, motioning back the way he and Shen had come. “They’ve been traveling a good while, leading the captives steadily southward.” He frowned, picturing the maps he had seen, trying to get a picture for where they were right now. “I believe they were heading for the river when they encountered some other group.” He said at last. He frowned, trying to make sense of the other tracks. “These seem to be a larger group. They have horses.. and wagons.” He muttered. The tracks crisscrossed so much, it was difficult to make very much sense of it.

“The wagon tracks are from a different group?” Shen asked with surprise. “I have been following them all the way from Rhun. I thought, when the tracks changed to going on foot, that it was the same group.”

Hal smiled faintly and shook his head. “No, sorry. They’re different groups.” He paused, thinking. “So, Mae Wen is with the wagon people?”

“Unless something happened here, and she ended up with the other people.. yes.” Shen frowned in worry. “Which tracks do we follow?”

Hal looked at the ground again, mentally asking himself the same question. After searching for a little bit, he sighed. “The light is failing. I can’t see enough to make any sense of it.” He said reluctantly. “But as soon as the sun comes up, I’ll get back to it.”


Hal trained for a while that night, working on improving some techniques. He had learned several new kinds of kicks by now, and he was getting better and smoother at doing them. His blocks were coming along well, too. Tonight, Shen introduced some defensive techniques which effectively used the enemy’s energy against them. He showed Hal several different ways to evade attacks while also tossing your opponent to the ground, or pinning them so they were unable to attack.

The last ten minutes or so of their training session, they did some light-contact sparring with Hal attempting to throw Shen to the ground. He only managed it a couple of times, and while he felt mildly disappointed that he hadn’t been more successful at it, Shen told him that it was very good, and that very few could managed to do so at all, especially when they had only been training for a few days. Shen was impressed by how quickly Hal was progressing with this.

They took the night in shifts, as they had been doing for the past several days since they met. Hal slept first. When he woke for the second shift, he spent the remaining hours of darkness quietly practicing everything he could recall from the evening’s lesson. As soon as it was light enough to see, he returned to examining the tracks. With his mind refreshed by the sleep, coupled with the gradually growing light, as opposed to a gradually fading light.. Hal was better able to see the evidence on the ground. By the time Shen had awakened, Hal had gained a fairly good idea of what had happened here.

“What have you found?” Shen asked, sitting up sleepily.

Hal looked up with a grim smile, having just caught a glint of something shiny on the ground. He turned to his new friend. “We follow the wagon tracks.” He declared. “Look,” He showed Shen the bead. “This belongs to Amelina. It’s part of a necklace that I gave her, and she’s been dropping one here and there, usually at crucial checkpoints such as this.. to help me find her.” He tucked it into his pocket, pleased that she had been so thoughtful as to do so. “She dropped it right here, where the wagon tracks stopped. Her tracks also stop here, I didn’t notice that last night. But the Haradrim’s tracks.. they went that way. Without any captives.” He motioned, then pointed to the wagon and horse tracks. “These go in the opposite direction.”

“But I followed them to this point.” Shen frowned.

“You followed them from that way,” Hal pointed a slightly altered course, but it was close enough that it could easily be mistaken. “I can see your tracks here, fresher than theirs, crossing over this point.” He explained. “They came here, stopped, fought the Haradrim, took the captives, and then left.. going a few degrees to the right. They probably saw the other group from a distance and changed their course, came over here to see what they could take from them, then went back to their original course. We’ll see where it leads us.”

Shen looked at all of these things and nodded, realizing that Hal was right. He had seen a mixture of two-week-old tracks, and had not known which to follow, and had only seen that the wagon tracks went no further, but other tracks seemed to show them continuing on foot. Now, as Hal pointed it out, he could make out the four different paths. Two groups, each coming to this point and leaving in different directions.

As they set off to follow these tracks, Shen frowned. “Then before, your fiancé was not with the same group as Mae Wen.” he realized. “But now.. she is.”

“It would seem that way.” Hal agreed quietly. He was really missing his horse about now, but Sundance had injured his hoof, and Hal had sent the single servant who had set out with him to take the horse to Minas Tirith, with a request that his close, younger friend, Macardil, would take care of him until Hal returned. Given the argument that had occurred between Hal and his father when he insisted on going after Amelina instead of staying at home, to marry a girl his father had chosen for him.. Hal had thought it best not to send the servant back home with his horse, without Hal, lest his father think the worst. The man was in poor enough health already, and Hal didn’t want to give him that kind of a scare. He hoped to be able to repair things between them when he returned.. but for now, he had to do this.

Being already so far along in following the trail by the time Sundance had hurt his hoof, Hal had not wanted to go back to retrieve a new horse, and so he had continued on foot. Besides.. Shen was on foot, so their alliance would be difficult to maintain if one was afoot and the other trying to keep up. And even if he'd had a horse that wasn't hurt, Hal would not try to ride double for a venture that could be this lengthy, especially in the desertous area they were in. So far, their course had kept fairly close to a river, but eventually that was sure to change, and then it would become more difficult to keep hydrated.

It only took a couple of days before that happened. The river dwindled and became a low creek. Then a thin stream. Then barely more than a trickle by the third day. By the fourth day, it was nothing but a memory. They filled up their canteens as much as they could hold before venturing leaving it behind. Hal was growing worried that they would lose the trail as the group moved into more desertous terrain, with sand and dunes and such. He had never really traveled in such terrain before, but he could already guess that the sand would make tracking extremely difficult. And he had not managed to gain any insight into where these people were heading… but he also was not very familiar with the area. Perhaps they were heading for a town? He recalled seeing many towns listed on the maps he had studied before, and they had bypassed a few towns situated along the course of the river, but he was not sure what towns they were. The only way he could gauge how far they had come by now was by the mountain range that was uncomfortably close to them, always on their left. The height was gradually dwindling, which told him they were nearing the end of it.

After another day of walking, the terrain had moved into loose, desert sand that easily shifted and closed in on itself. Hal and Shen both, privately, struggled not to despair. The enemy was too far ahead, and there was hardly any sort of trail left to follow by now. If Amelina was leaving any more beads, they had been swallowed by the sand. On foot, the pursuers had a difficult time catching up to the others. Neither of them brought up the obvious, determinedly moving onward in the direction the tracks had been going when they last could see them. Hoping that it was not a mistake to do so.

“There is a city ahead,” Shen mentioned after a long stretch of silence between them.
Hal looked up, observing the distant buildings on the edge of sight. They had avoided any of the towns so far, but now.. without a trail to follow, Hal couldn’t help wondering whether they might be able to find out any information. He doubted it.. especially since, given the mountain range that still lurked, dark and menacing, to their left.. he suspected these people would be hostile; servants of the dark lord.

As Hal was debating whether to head for the city or not, Shen hastened forward a few steps, with a soft cry in his own language.

“What?” Hal tensed, alarmed, until he saw that the old man had pulled something from the sand. He looked joyful. Hal hurried to join him. It was a ribbon.. like a girl might wear in her hair.

“It is Mae Wen’s!” Shen declared, looking at Hal with hopeful eyes. “Does this mean.. she is still well?” He asked, as if hardly daring to ask.

Hal studied it, then looked at the ground. There were still no tracks to be seen, but that was no surprise by this point. “I hope so, Shen.” He said softly. “Maybe.. she dropped it deliberately?” He suggested. “Perhaps.. if she’s been talking with Amelina..” He hesitated. It might be a long shot, but it gave them both hope. “Maybe Amelina realized her beads wouldn’t help us in this sand, so they decided to drop something more noticeable? I doubt I’d ever find one of those tiny glass beads in this sand, but even you, with your poor sight, were able to spot that ribbon.” he pointed out.

“Perhaps that is so.” Shen looked pleased by this thought, fingering the ribbon happily.

“Maybe it’s a clue to keep us going this way.” Hal looked ahead at the city. “Let’s find out what we can, I suppose.” He suggested, feeling renewed hope as well. They would find something, sooner or later. They must find something.

[Rillewen]

(private)

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Around the middle region of Khand,
at the tail end of the lower Ephel Duath
Spring of 3000, Third Age

“Now, while they’re distracted!” Mae Wen spoke softly, watching from afar while their captors waged a battle with the people of a village they had come across. They had left the wagons behind, with only four men to guard the entire caravan, while the rest raided the village to take supplies, more captives, and anything else they wanted. The Sagath were known for taking whatever they wanted, and they were proving it, now.

Amelina bit her lip as she swiftly worked on untying her friend. “Are you sure about this?” She whispered nervously. “There are still some guards around...” She reminded her, trying to work at subtly as she could.

“Do not worry about them.” Mae Wen smiled as if she knew something Amelina didn’t. “I can handle them. I have only been waiting for someone to come along to untie me at the right time.”

Nodding silently although she didn't understand, Amelina worked at the knots until the rope fell away, then she sat back and watched as Mae Wen rubbed her wrists with a little sigh.

After rolling her wrists gently around a few times, she took hold of Amelina’s bonds and freed her as well. Fortunately, their hands had been tied in front of them, not behind. “Now, you get that spear over there,” Mae Wen whispered, nodding toward a spear that had been leaned against the nearest wagon. Rather careless of them, but they obviously didn't expect the captives to get free. “If I shout to you, toss it to me. Alright?” She looked at Amelina seriously, then she took an item from her pocket.

Amelina nodded slowly, then blinked as she frowned at the little item. “What is that?" She asked curiously.

"Only a folding fan." The other girl answered with a little smile.

Amelina was puzzled. “What good will that do? I mean, sure, it’s hot here, but I don’t think..” She trailed off as Mae Wen put a finger to her lips to shush her.

Rising carefully to her feet, Mae Wen dropped silently out of the wagon. For a moment, Amelina couldn’t see her due to the girl crouching low, and the tailgate of the wagon hiding her view. Then, as the nearest man left to guard the caravan turned and frowned, noticing one of the captives was missing, he was surprised as the girl launched at him with a flying side kick that struck him right in the ribs of his left side, seeming to appear out of nowhere from between the two wagons he was walking past.

The man grunted as he doubled over, then reached to grab her, only to be blinded as she opened her fan suddenly with a sharp clack sound, and swept it in a horizontal, slashing motion across his eyes, then raked it downward across his face. He cried out and grabbed his face, startled as he recoiled. Then she snapped it closed and struck the man in the temple with the bottom end of the closed fan, before stabbing the other, closed end hard into his throat, a blow that crushed his windpipe.

As the first man fell over, dead, Mae Wen turned to meet a second man who had come in response to the first’s cry. A third was on his way, calling for the fourth to come help. She would have to work swiftly. She didn’t wait for the second man to reach her; instead, she closed the gap between them herself, running a few steps toward him before she sprang the rest of the way and met him with a strong front kick that collided into the center of his chest and staggered him backward forcefully. His armor helped keep him from being too harmed, but it still knocked a bit of wind out of him. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed for his weapon, but when he swung it toward her, Mae Wen blocked the attack with her closed fan held like a stick weapon, then with a swift twisting maneuver of the wrist, she had disarmed him.

Amelina and the other captives watched in amazement as Mae Wen whirled and kicked, fighting the men in such a fluid, pretty manner it almost seemed like some exotic dance she was performing. Amelina glanced around, then began to use this opportunity to quickly untie the other captives and snatch up some food to take with them. While Mae Wen was fighting the guards, Amelina, trying her best to take charge of the situation, and herded the other frightened girls out of their wagons.

“Amelina!” Mae Wen called out as she found herself fighting the third and fourth man at once. The second had been dispatched now, but the last two together were proving a bit of a match for her. She had been kept tied up for months, only being able to stretch during the times when she was made to do work for the captors, and she had been fighting for a few minutes now, which was tiring her.

Amelina remembered her request, and hastily turned to toss her the spear. She saw that the other girl was now struggling to keep two heavily armored men at bay with only her hands and feet, her fan had been knocked out of her hand somehow. Amelina hesitated, wondering if she might be able to help by spearing one of the men. She tried.. tossing the spear as hard as she could. It fell short, the tip burying itself into the ground. For a moment, Amelina thought she had failed her friend, and that there was no way Mae Wen could get to it in time for it to help her at all.

But, even as Amelina was feeling her heart sink with dismay, the foreign girl swiftly dove toward the spear, out from between the two warriors trying to sandwich her between them. She rolled on the ground and came up, snatching the spear, as she found her feet again. Mae Wen swiftly faced her opponents, taking these few seconds to catch her breath while the men decided what to do next.

They both moved toward her at once, sneering as they figured she was too tired to keep fighting. The first to come within range suddenly found his feet swept out from under him, then she pivoted and jabbed the next guy in the gut with the spear’s tip. His armor protected him from too much damage from the blow, and he tried to grab the spear from her even as he doubled over in pain from the jab. Despite his grip on the pole, Mae Wen was able to use his own force to his disadvantage, and she threw him to the ground before he knew how it happened.

By that time, the other guy had gotten to his feet again, and grabbed a spear of his own. Mae Wen turned swiftly to defend herself. Every attempt he made at striking her, he found his attack blocked.

Watching, Amelina bit her lip anxiously as she saw the other fellow get up. Mae Wen was between them again. Should she call out to warn her? She watched as the spear guy suddenly went to thrust toward the girl with all his might, right as the other fellow came up to try and grab her from behind, as if intending to hold her still so the other guy could impale her. Amelina gasped, but to her amazement, Mae Wen spun nimbly out of the way just in time. The spear impaled the other guy, instead.

Without stopping, Mae Wen let her spinning momentum continue, moving smoothly into another kick, which caught the spearman in the back and toppled him over. She finished him off with her own spear, then stood panting for a moment, catching her breath.

Several yards away, the remaining men were still battling with the local Khandese villagers, and had not noticed any of this. Mae Wen grabbed her fan from the ground, then hurried to join Amelina. “Hurry,” She panted. “We should get away before they come back.”

“But where do we go?” Amelina asked, looking at her new friend with newfound admiration. “That was.. amazing! How did you do that? What is that fan made of, anyway?”

“Silk and bamboo," Mae Wen answered breathlessly. "I'll explain later,” She shushed her, urging her and the others to come along. “We will hide in the mountains.” She decided, feeling pretty good about the idea of mountains. There were mountains where she called home, and she liked those.

Amelina hurried along with her, still a bit awestruck. It took her a little while to realize where they were heading. “Mae Wen, wait.” She stopped her as the girls approached the base of the mountains in question. “Do you.. know where we are?” She asked with a frown, glancing around nervously.

“No, but it doesn't matter.” She answered, shaking her head. “Come, we mustn't delay.”

“No.. wait, it might matter a lot.” Amelina caught her arm, frowning as she looked up at the slope stretching up before them. “These mountains.. if I’m right about where we are, then we definitely don’t want to go there.”

“It couldn't be worse than where we were before, could it?” Mae Wen asked with a frown as the girls crouched behind some boulders. She looked toward the village not far away, where the Sagath wagons were still sitting, just outside the village. The Sagath warriors would soon be finished with their battle.

Amelina considered the question, glancing toward them, then at the other captives with them. She looked back at Mae Wen, doubt evident in her green eyes. “I-I’m almost certain these are the mountains that border..the cursed land.” She whispered nervously.

Mae Wen frowned to hear that, her eyes widening a little. She hesitated, looking toward the mountains a bit differently now. But there was nowhere else to go. “We will just hide as far as we need to go, until they go away.” She declared in a whisper. “We will be alright. Then..” She hesitated and looked toward the others who were with them. They were assorted nationalities. Some Rhunites, a few Khandese, some Haradrim, and a few Gondorians who had been with Amelina. "Then we will figure out where to go from there."

“We only have a little food.” Amelina pointed out. She lifted one of the bags of food that she’d thought to grab from the wagon. “What are we going to do when that runs out?”

Mae Wen was relieved to see that Amelina had thought to grab some food. But she was right, it wouldn’t last long between all of them. She frowned, thinking for a moment, then put a comforting hand on Amelina’s shoulder. “For now, we only need to get further away, so those men will not find us. Then, we will figure out the next problem.” She tried to speak encouragingly. “Hurry, I see them coming back to the wagons now. They will soon know we have escaped! Come!” She urged them to get moving, and together the escaped captives all set off to try and put more distance between them and the returning Sagath warriors.

[Rillewen]

(Private)

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Hal Veranis & Shen Yong
Around the middle region of Khand,
at the tail end of the lower Ephel Duath
Spring of 3000, Third Age

"They were being pursued," Hal muttered, a troubled frown lingering on his face as he followed the tracks.

"Did they get away?" Shen asked anxiously. He could make nothing of the tracks here, and in most cases, could not even see any. He thought it a bit of a miracle he had managed to follow any trail as far as he did, on his own.

"Can't tell yet. So far, it looks like the captives were going this way, and their captors were pursuing. It's hard to say how far behind they were. But.." he leaned down and picked up another tiny bead from a boulder. "Amelina was here." He smiled grimly.

"So was Mae Wen." Shen declared proudly. The tracks below, where many wagons had stopped, had shown evidence of a girl with small feet performing spins and other indications of a very specific fighting style, which had reassured Shen that his granddaughter was still here. And her tracks had headed this way.

The unlikely pair continued moving along, following a fairly clear trail where the young ladies had fled and hid, and the pursuers had blazed a path to go after them. After following this for almost an hour, the trail ended with signs that seemed to indicate the pursuers had caught up to the girls, surrounded them, and recaptured them. Hal let his head drop for a moment in disappointment, having hoped by some miracle that he would find that the captors had given up, and the girls got away.. that they might find them all huddled together and waiting to be rescued. No such luck.

"My granddaughter did not fight, here." Shen observed. Even with his limited skill at this, he could see no indication of a fight.

"It would've been foolish to try," Hal acknowledged a little reluctantly. "They were vastly outnumbered, and she's probably the only one among them who knows anything about fighting." He pointed out. "Better to surrender and be spared, than to fight with no hope of winning, and be slain. Besides, maybe if they don't know what she can do.. they won't keep as sharp an eye on her." He tried to offer some hope to the old man.

Shen nodded thoughtfully. "And now?" He frowned. He felt as if they had wasted a lot of time following this trail.

"We'll have to return to where the wagons were." Hal replied, already turning back that way, which was what the captors seemed to have done.

"Too bad we spent so much time following this, for nothing." Shen sighed. "And it is too bad that they escaped, only to be recaptured. It was all for nothing."

"It wasn't for nothing," Hal disagreed with a little smile. "Actually, they've helped us quite a bit." He hastened his steps to return to where the group had left their wagons. Now that they knew where they had gone, they were able to make good time on the way back.

"How did they help us?" Shen wondered, curious. He managed to keep up, but he was old and had a little trouble.

"They cost their captors about half a day, if my guess is right, which helps us to catch up...a little bit." Hal answered. "Plus, they managed to get rid of a few of the enemy. Every little bit helps."

They returned to the wagon trail and set off. The village yielded no further clues, other than to show that the men had slaughtered many people there, and taken several others captive. After restocking their supplies as well as they could, the pair continued on their way. The trail moved northward, and Hal felt uneasy as they spent the next couple of days crossing the gap between the two arms of mountains that framed the Dark Land. As their journey continued, Hal continued training every evening for as long as Shen would work with him. Every night, during his shift at watching their camp, he focused on practicing this or that, trying to improve upon what he had learned. He was determined that when they finally caught up to these people, he was going to be ready.

Their supplies dwindled, especially their water. Crossing a desert was tough for an old man who was from a place surrounded by water, flowing with streams and wet fens and such, the way Shen described Ôn. It was also hard on a young man from the forest, who grew up near both the coastline as well as the river Anduin. They were finding it more and more difficult to find signs of the wagons having passed through, and they had no idea where their quarry was heading. During the last day or two, they lost all trace of the trail and were forced to focuse entirely on simply getting to a source of water. But at last, they managed to reach another stream just as they were beginning to despair.

Once they had recovered from near dehydration, Hal began to try and piece where they might be, now. He reasoned that they must be near the Inland Sea, near Rhovanion, by now. There were green things growing here, by the stream, and they could see more greenery in the far distance as they began to come into a different kind of land. Now, if they could only pick up the trail again.. it would be easier to follow as the terrain became less like a sea of sand, and more like a forest again. But where to begin?

[Rillewen]

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Hal Veranis & Shen Yong
Somewhere in Khand,
Summer of 3000, Third Age

Hal let out a sigh of frustration as he returned to the riverside, where Shen was seated in the shade. "Nothing." He grumbled. They had pursued the band of Sagath Wainriders all over the desert, it seemed like. They had, apparently, only stopped in the forest long enough to replenish their water supplies, and then had gone off on more raids across the desert of Khand, east of the Inland Sea. Always they were just ahead, and then wind storm had kicked up a few days ago, wiping away all traces of the trail Hal had been doggedly following.

Weeks had passed since they left the Ephel Duath, and it was well into summer now. Hal was drenched in sweat, and had more of it pouring down his face like mini rivers. His fair skin had become sunburned and tanned from the relentless Eastern sun, and he hadn't been able to shave or trim his hair since he left Gondor. Or at least, there had been no point to the activity, as it would only take up precious time that he felt could not be spared. He did not like to think what may have happened to Amelina in that time, and he was increasingly more anxious to locate her and bring her back to safety. But now... the task seemed dauntingly impossible.

Rather than scour the desert together in the heat, without water, they had made camp near a river, and Hal ventured out each day as far as he could to try and pick up a trail, and returned each evening to replenish his water supplies. It was easier on the old man, who was little help in tracking, anyway. He returned now, as the sun was sinking below the dunes. There was no point trying to pick up the trail without light. But when he returned with his annoyed report of 'nothing', he found his companion sitting by the riverbank, quite still. Breathing slowly and deeply, and not responding. Hal frowned, looked around, then came nearer. "Shen." He crouched beside him. "Are you sleeping?"

Opening his eyes, the elder man smiled wanly. "No, my young friend." He answered. "I am only meditating."

"Meditating?" Hal looked slightly puzzled by that. He shrugged and went to splash some water on his face, then dug into their packs. "We haven't got much food left," He sighed and then leaned one arm on a tree, staring off at the distant desert. "I don't know what else to do, Shen. I can track, but only if there's a trail to follow!" He kicked at a rock on the ground, sending it into the water.

"Come, sit." Shen suggested calmly. "Meditate with me."

"That won't do any good." Hal frowned out at the desert, feeling a sense of helplessness pressing down on him. Amelina was out there, somewhere! He just couldn't find her. It was so frustrating! Infuriating, even! One hand balled into a fist down by his side, reluctant to even think of what could be happening to her. He smacked his other palm into the tree trunk and huffed a sigh. He knew she was still alive, and still with them, because at the last place the Sagath had camped, before the sandstorm, she'd left another tiny bead. She must be getting low on them by now, because it had been a long time since she had left one. He was beginning to fear that she would run out of beads, and then how would he be able to be sure she was still with them? How could she leave him a trail, after those beads were gone?

"Come, Hal. Sit, join me." Shen insisted.

Hal turned and frowned. "How can you just sit there and.." He waved a hand a bit as he searched for the word, "daydream?" he settled for the closest thing it looked like, to him. "Your granddaughter is with them, too! I think we need to break camp and move on, out there." He nodded toward the desert. "We've wasted too much time here," He suddenly felt as if they'd made a big mistake in conducting their search in this manner. They should have pressed on in the direction they'd been going, and kept going until they found the trail again. Now, it was probably gone forever. The group had made too much of a head start on them by now.

Shen looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, not moving, before he finally spoke. "You must learn to calm your thoughts, young friend." He declared, then motioned to the spot across from him. "Sit." His tone left no room for argument.

Hal blinked at him. He had only heard him use that tone when they were training, and he was telling him to do this or that. He hesitated for a moment, mentally acknowledging that he was a bit worked up, but who wouldn't be? He let out a slow sigh and then came to sit down in front of the old man. "Alright. I'm sitting. But it isn't helping anything." He still felt frustrated, helpless, and irritable because of all the time that felt wasted. They had spent far too much time in hunting this group down, and it was beginning to feel like a completely hopeless cause.. yet he refused to give up, for the sake of the woman he loved.

"You cannot try to find a trail in the dark, can you?" Shen pointed out. "I have taught you to fight, and you are exceptional at it, now. But if I do not also teach you to master your own thoughts and feelings, then I will have failed to teach you all." He looked Hal in the eye. "Now, you must learn to find your inner calm amid the storm of your emotions and thoughts. Breathe deeply." He drew in a slow breath, then let it out slowly. "Exhale slowly. Focus on relaxing." He spoke in a quiet, even tone, guiding Hal through the steps.

Hal still felt a bit ridiculous, and it felt like a waste of time, but as Shen pointed out, there was nothing more they could do at this point of the day. So he did as his older friend said, and focused on his breathing, keeping his limbs relaxed. Clearing his mind as he listened to Shen's voice. His gaze rested down at the ground in front of his legs, as relaxed as he could keep it.

After a few minutes, Shen declared that it was enough time. "You have done well. Now, slowly lift your gaze," He instructed. "Let your brain begin to recognize the sounds, smells, and sights around you. Acknowledge your surroundings. Slowly wiggle your toes and fingers, then start moving your hands, feet, and the rest of your body."

Acting along with Shen's instructions, Hal was surprised at how less jumbled and anxious his thoughts felt. He still felt concerned for the girls, but he was not feeling quite so frustrated and helpless. The irritation had slipped away, as well. "Alright." He nodded slowly. "I do feel a bit better.. calmer." Hal smiled faintly as he admitted this.

"I am not surprised." Shen remarked with a knowing smile. He rose slowly. "From now on, we will meditate for a time each evening, before sleep. Now. Let us have a morsel to eat, and then rest. No training tonight, for you are weary and you need to rest your mind as well as your body."

Surprised, Hal started to protest, but hesitated. He was quite tired, and they'd been pushing pretty hard on training lately. He wanted to be as good as he could be, and yet he'd begun to feel like he wasn't making much progress. Partly, because he was so frustrated and stressed about the situation. He gave a small nod, deciding it was probably for the best that they take the night off. The old man knew a lot about things, he was realizing. After they'd finished a meager supper, Hal lay down to rest, since Shen had insisted on taking first watch.

---

Hal's eyes snapped open. He lay staring up at the stars above for a long moment. What was that thought that had occurred to him as he lay dreaming? What time was it? A multitude of other questions began to flood in, but he recalled the things Shen had said, earlier, and focused on his breathing. Slowly, shutting them all out. Though he was lying down, and not sitting, he tried to mimic the way they had meditated earlier. It was a bit difficult, and it took a bit of effort to try and shut out all the random thoughts striving to draw his attention away.

And then it returned to him. Rather than seizing the thought and leaping up in triumph, Hal pondered it carefully, focusing on that thought alone. At length, he slowly sat up and found Shen gazing off into the desert, looking mournful, yet determined as ever. "I think I know where to look for them." Hal spoke up softly.

Shen turned, then glanced up at the sky. "It is still half an hour yet before I would wake you," He mentioned.

"I woke up on my own," Hal shrugged, getting up. He smiled and came to sit next to him. "I've had a new idea. I feel pretty good about it. As soon as it's light, we're going to set off toward the next settlement."

"Oh?" Shen looked at him curiously.

"Well it stands to reason." Hal shrugged. "They've been going around, raiding villages and caravans as they find them. So, instead of seeking for a continuation of a trail that got erased.. we must instead go to where they must have gone, and hope for a stroke of luck." He sighed. "I only hope we haven't fallen too far behind them."

Shen smiled and rested a hand on his arm. "We will find them again. That is a good plan, and I wonder that neither of us thought of it before now. There are sure to be settlements along the path of this river. We can also restock our supplies when we reach one of them."

Hal nodded. "Exactly. So, even if we don't have any luck with one, we may have luck with the other. Go on and get some rest now," He smiled. "I'm rested enough to take over." He watched as Shen went to lie down and sleep. Hal turned his attention toward the next step of their journey. Taking a deep breath, he turned his gaze upward to the stars, and whispered a prayer to the Valar to help them in their task.

[Rillewen]

(Private)

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Hal Veranis & Shen Yong
Somewhere in Khand or Harad
Nearing Autumn of 3000, Third Age

Several more weeks passed as they continued the hunt. The Sagath were constantly on the move, and they didn't seem to favor one area of land over another. This made it difficult to catch up to them. Their path wandered up toward the Iron mountains, then when things began to get a bit cold there, they ventured back south toward Khand. Then, they moved along a river toward a range of desertous mountains which, on maps, would be listed as Ered Harmal, although neither Hal nor Shen knew what it was called. The wasteland rose up into rocky places, filled with mostly barren canyons and cliffs. There, the ground was hard packed, and it was difficult to follow any sort of trail, but thankfully, their quarry was unable to do any climbing due to their wagons, and so they were forced to find paths and passages by which they could bring their wagons safely through the mountains. Therefore, Hal and Shen were able to find the same passages and follow them without too much trouble.

Unfortunately, they'd had a head start on them. In some places, the passage had nowhere else to turn, and so there was no question about which way they might have gone. In those cases, Hal and Shen pressed onward for as long as they could after dark, before the pair eventually made camp and continued onward early the next day, before sunrise. In doing so, they began to gain a little on the Sagath, but soon the mountains gave way to desert once again on the other side, although there was a river winding off into the distance, toward a body of water. All along the way, every settlement that the pair came to, they found evidence of the Sagath having attacked and fought the local villagers, leaving behind many slain, and taking captives as they went.

Hal had lost all track of how much time had passed since he set out on this journey, by the time they finally caught sight of the Sagath's wagons in the distance. He also had little concept of where they were, exactly, nor how far they had traveled. Where they still in Khand? Had they ventured into Harad, or even further south than that? He had never really had much cause to study any maps of lands this far south.. if indeed any existed in Gondor. All he knew was that they had come to the foothills of the mountain range whose name he did not know. From atop the crest of a high place near the base of the mountain, he squinted while holding a hand up to his eyes, and pointed. "Shen.. look!" He breathed excitedly, hardly daring to believe that what he saw was true. Could it be? "Is that.. them? Moving along the river there?"

Shen looked where he was indicating, but shook his head slightly in regret. "I cannot tell, my friend." He informed Hal. "Your eyes are better than mine. All I can see is the glint of sunlight on the river yonder."

Hal stared for a long moment, beginning to feel uncertain. Was he seeing a mirage? He didn't want to lead them onto a wild goose chase that would waste time and make them lose the trail again. Was he really seeing that, or was it a figment of his imagination, born from the desperate hope of finding something more than remnants of a trail? He glanced over at Shen, wishing his older friend could see better, that he could confirm that what Hal saw was true. Seeing the man pull out his spectacles to try and get a better look, Hal suddenly felt a bit of alarm. Hastily, he put out a hand and stopped him from bringing them up to his eyes. "Nevermind," he told him, shaking his head. "Wouldn't want the sun to glint off of those, and give them warning that we're here." He explained quietly.

As Shen nodded and put away his spectacles, Hal closed his eyes and took a slow, measured breath as he rested his eyes from the bright afternoon sun. After several more breaths, he opened his eyes again and looked. A small smile formed on his face. "Yes. That's them. It has to be." He declared. It was not imaginary, or it wouldn't have still been there when he opened his eyes, right? He wasn't entirely sure how mirages worked, but that seemed pretty logical, anyway. "Finally." He breathed out a sigh of relief, although he tried not to get his hopes up too high just yet. He knew that Amelina was still with them, at least. While she had run out of her beads long ago, she had taken to etching a small heart on the ground, or rocks, or branches.. whatever she could manage to put it on. He was sure that it was her, and for that, he appreciated the fact that she had not given up hope that he would come for her.

Now that they were finally in sight, he just had to figure out how to get her and Shen's granddaughter away from those savages without any of them getting hurt.. because he had seen plenty of evidence by now to let him know that they were dangerous and numerous. It would not be easy... but at least, now, they were in sight. Now, they could more quickly close the gap between them. But even if they were within a stone's throw from them.. it would do them no good if the two rescuers got themselves slain. They would have to come up with some sort of plan for how to proceed from here, while they worked on closing the gap further.

"Let's get moving," he told Shen, feeling a surge of hope that seemed to refresh him despite his weariness. They could discuss and decide on a plan while they were moving.. it would be at least another day or two, he reckoned, before they would actually catch up to them.. and that was assuming they could steadily gain on them. With any luck, the Sagath would make camp early and not leave until late morning.. while the pursuers would press on until they could go no further, and start again as soon as the light permitted them to. Despite his eagerness to be reunited with his beloved, Hal struggled to suppress his hopes from rising too high, fearing that there might be some sort of disappointment awaiting them.

[Rillewen]

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Hal Veranis & Shen Yong
Somewhere in Khand, Rhun, or Harad
Nearing Autumn of 3000, Third Age

Hal crouched by a small cluster of bushes growing near the riverbank, waiting until Shen had moved into position. Their plan seemed simple enough; executing it may prove more challenging. The main body of Sagath marauders were involved in raiding one of the villages that dotted the course of the river. Hal and Shen were going to move in from opposite directions, like a pincer, and take out the guards left to watch over the wagon. The ‘spoils of battle’ as the Sagath surely viewed them.

Once Shen had signaled that he was in position, Hal started to move. The first guard went down easily. There was another, more difficult to reach. He had to dodge under one of the wagons, crawl on his belly down the length of it, and then hastened to take cover beside another nearby wagon. After taking a pause to assess the enemy, he tossed a pebble to draw the man’s attention in the other direction. Soon, he was dragging the unconscious man beneath the wagon he'd just taken cover under. As he glanced around in search of any other guards to deal with, Hal’s gaze fell upon the sunburned, red haired young woman he had given his heart to. His gaze stalled as a little smile of relief slid onto his face at the sight of her, so close, and yet so far.

Amelina’s mouth opened in surprise as her eyes met his, but she made no sound as she saw Hal put a finger to his lips. With a small nod, she dared to let her hopes soar at the sight of her rescuer finally showing up. The moment lasted a second or two before Amelina’s eyes widened and she called out a warning. “Hal, behind you!”

Seeing the change in her expression, Hal leaped aside even before she spoke, just in time to avoid a blow that would have severely wounded him. He mentally berated himself for getting distracted, even for a second. Amelina’s warning drew others from the shadows.. guards he had not even realized were there until they emerged from hiding. Before he could deal with the one warrior, two more had moved in. Then two more men joined them. As it turned out, there were more guards left behind with the wagons than they had realized. They couldn’t have known this, but it was because of Amelina and Mae Wen’s previous attempts at escape that the Sagath had decided more security was a good idea.

Making use of the skills he had been learning from Shen, Hal spun and kicked, leaping, striking, using his sword as needed, and managed to keep the enemy at bay.. but he was surrounded. Five against one were bad odds, and he was struggling, even despite the new fighting style he had learned. Where was Shen? What was he doing? Hal managed to slay one of the Sagath men, but there was no time to feel relieved, as another immediately replaced him. Hal was fighting with every bit of his skill, just to stay alive. Distantly, he could hear Amelina’s voice, calling encouragement to him.

After dodging a blow that would have taken his head off, Hal managed to dive to one side and roll out of the midst of them, then came up and swung his sword in a diagonal arch that impacted heavily with the shoulder/neck area of one of the men, and took him down. Hal retreated further, glancing around hastily. Where was Shen?

And then he saw him. His friend was fighting just as fiercely, a little way off from him. Across the Sagath’s camp, several more men had the older man surrounded. Where had they all come from? They must have been lying in wait, anticipating some sort of attempt like this! But how? In the glimpse that Hal got of him, Shen was fighting ferociously, even more impressively than he had fought Hal, the day they met. But, every time he knocked one man down, another was already taking his place. Hal could only spare a quick glance, however, and swiftly turned his attention back toward his own battle.


“We should help them!” Amelina whispered, feeling a surge of hope and yet absolute terror at the thought that Hal might be slain before her eyes. Those men were savage and vicious, and they certainly intended to kill him!

Mae Wen was already well ahead of her friend, and had been struggling to undo her bonds ever since the first guard was taken out. But after their last near escape, the men had been more careful, and when they were stopped, the captives were kept so that they could not help one another get free. She sighed and turned to watch her grandfather anxiously. Longing to go and help him. “I wish we could.” She answered Amelina, frustrated as she tugged in vain at the ropes securing her to the wagon, across from Amelina.

“I knew he’d find me, eventually..” Amelina murmured, immensely glad to see her beloved, and yet… her gaze then landed on the sight of the rest of their captors returning from battle. “Oh no..” She breathed, horrified. There would be no hope for their two saviors, once they’d joined the battle! “They have to go..” She realized, dreading what may happen if they don’t, and disappointed to realize they must go without being able to rescue them. Yet. “Hal, go! Now!” She called frantically. “Get out of here before it’s too late!”


This was not how this was supposed to happen. Hal was feeling more and more desperate, knowing that this battle was lost. He’d taken a rather deep slash to the arm, and it was more difficult to use his sword, now. He was backing up, retreating from the advancing enemies while using all the skill he possessed to keep them from closing around him again. Trying to make his way to Shen. Shen, who was fighting admirably for a man of his age, impressing Hal further than he had thought possible by this point of knowing the man. And yet.. he was even more outnumbered than Hal. The sound of Amelina’s voice, warning him yet again, made him swiftly glance toward her. Seeing the other Sagath men heading their way, his heart sank. She was right. They had to go.. now.

Throwing a forceful kick at the men he was retreating from, Hal managed to knock one of them backward into the others, then Hal ran toward Shen while they were trying to disentangle themselves from each other. His sword impaled one of the men who was trying to get close enough to land a blow on the old man, and he flung the man out to meet with the men pursuing Hal. “Shen! We can’t.. it's no use!” Hal gasped, breaking his way into the circle, coming to his friend’s aid. “The others are returning… we have to get out of here!” He hated to say it. He hated more than anything to have to flee when they were so close. So close to having Amelina back. He could see her, but he could not touch her yet. Still, they couldn’t rescue their loved ones if they lost their lives, now.

The other Sagath men had spotted them by now, and had begun to hasten to join the battle, clearly intending to aid their friends. They would be on them in seconds, and then neither of the rescuers would stand a chance, surrounded by so many. Working together, the pair managed to break through the circle of enemies who were intent on preventing them from escaping. As he withdrew, Hal cast a brief glance back toward Amelina, giving a small, brief nod to her. A promise that he would return for her. Then he and Shen set off for the river, the Sagath giving pursuit. As they leaped into the swiftly flowing water, the men hurled spears after them, but none of them attempted to jump in after them.

It wasn’t until they emerged, a reasonably safe distance downstream from their enemies, that Hal discovered the damage done by one of those spears. Shen had been struck! Struggling not to panic, Hal swam them both further downstream before pulling him out of the river at the first convenient spot to do so. He struggled to keep calm and not panic, now, as he kneeled by his friend, frantically working to try and stop the bleeding in his side. Shen’s breathing was raspy and labored, struggling for each breath as Hal worked desperately to patch him up.

After a moment, he reached out and caught hold of the young man’s arm, trying to still his attempts at bandages. “It is.. no use,” he told him quietly, his voice labored.

“No.. no, don’t say that,” Hal retorted, pulling his hand free and tried to put more pressure on the wound. He needed more gauze.. more bandages. Something to soak up the blood that kept flowing. If only he had some way to stitch it up… but what could he use? He had nothing! “It’ll be fine.. you have to be.. if I can just..”

“Halberion…” Shen took his hand again and gave it a squeeze.

Hal turned his head away, but let the old man stall his movements, swallowing down a lump in his throat, knowing that he was right. Hal had no bandages, and he could not make the bleeding stop. If they’d been somewhere with more knowledgeable healers, bandages, surgical equipment and the like.. maybe he could have been alright. But out here in the desert, with nothing but the sun, sand, and heat? Hal didn’t want to admit the inevitable. And he didn’t want to be left to continue their quest alone. He drew in a shaky breath and looked back toward Shen, meeting his friend's eyes with slightly blurred ones of his own. “Don’t leave me..” Hal heard his voice come out in a hoarse whisper, when he had not meant to speak.

Shen smiled faintly. “I.. would not, if.. I could.. help it.” he assured him, then grimaced in pain as the wound caused him further discomfort.

Hal managed a weak smile at the words, but did not feel any happiness with it. “I’m sorry.” he dropped his head down with regret. “I should have..”

“No..” Shen murmured. “This.. is no fault of yours, my friend.” He drew another shallow breath. “You.. fought well." He smiled.

Hal breathed out a short, humorless laugh. "So did you," He told him, letting his admiration show through in his voice and his expression.

Shen gave a tiny smile at that. "You have learned.. so much. Continue in what I have taught you..” he urged. “You will be.. you are.. an exceptional warrior.” He tightened his grip on Hal’s hand briefly, cringing. “I only.. reget that I cannot, now, save Mae Wen.” He said with sorrow in his voice.

Hal clasped his hand in both of his own, managing a look of resolve. “I will save her.” he vowed. “I’ll see that she makes it safely home. You have my word on that. She will return to her family safely.” He was glad, in a way, that he was still soaking wet, for it gave him at least the illusion that his tears might be concealed somewhat by that. But they were there, sliding down his cheeks.

Shen coughed weakly, then shook his head slightly. “She.. has no family.. but me.” He informed Hal regretfully. “She will.. return to an.. empty home.”

Hal bowed his head slightly in sorrow to hear this news, drew in a breath and looked up again with renewed determination. “No.. you’re wrong, Shen.” He said softly. “She will have Amelina and I for her family, if she wants us.” He smiled sadly at the old man, dying before him. “You..” He choked up a little, swallowed, and continued on. “You have been as a grandfather to me, Shen Yong.” He informed him, his vision blurring. “I.. never knew mine,” He smiled faintly. “But if I could choose one.. I would choose you.” He blinked and his vision cleared, partly. “Your granddaughter, then, will be as a sister to me.” He promised. “Once I have rescued her and the others.. I will give her the choice where she will go. If she wishes to return to the land of Ôn, then I will bring her there myself, and ensure that she will have a comfortable life among your people. But if she prefers, she may return with me and my fiance to Gondor, and live with us, as my sister. She may have a home with us for as long as she wishes.” He didn’t even care if his father might object to this. He meant it wholeheartedly.

Shen listened with a small smile, and gently squeezed his hand. “Your words.. bring me much comfort.. my young friend.” He told him quietly, haltingly. “Thank you… Your vow brings me.. peace.” With that, he rested his head back and smiled at Hal. “Thank you, Halberion, for the friendship you have given me, and to my granddaughter.”

Hal smiled sadly. “Thank you, Shen,” He answered, shaking his head slightly to deflect the gratitude back toward him. “I’m beyond grateful for all that you’ve taught me.” He watched a little smile cross Shen’s face, and then fade as his wound caused him pain. "I will miss you." Hal added in a choked whisper, blinking away the tears again. It seemed that it hurt Shen too much to try and talk, so he did not speak any more. Hal sat with him until his breathing had stopped, and then bowed his head in grief and remained there for a long while, trying to summon up the resolve to get up and do what needed to be done next.

[Rillewen]

(private)

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Somewhere around Khand or Rhun; moving steadily Northward, exact location unknown
Autumn of 3000, Third Age

“Do you think they’re alright?” Amelina whispered, unable to pull her gaze away from the direction she had last seen Hal.

“I do not know.” Mae Wen responded softly. She let out a little sigh. “I hope so. But somehow.. I fear otherwise.”

Amelina tried to ignore the feeling of dread to hear those words. Their captors had been very displeased by the recent surprise assault, and seemed unnerved by the audacity of merely two men. The men had spent a long time searching along the bank in search of the two men who had escaped after killing some of their men.

The girls could not understand what they were saying among themselves, but it was clear that they were antsy and looking to pay the attackers back for such damage. From what little they could understand, it seemed that some rumors suggested that perhaps those two were only scouts, and that a larger group was on its way.

It had taken hours before the tribe seemed satisfied that the intruders had vanished. They moved on swiftly, and Amelina wasn’t sure, but it seemed to her as if they were a little spooked by the whole ordeal. And the fact that the intruders had gotten away. She found that a bit pleasing, somehow. Except, now Mae Wen’s words had her worried. She remembered seeing the men throw spears and shooting arrows into the river as Hal and Mae Wen’s grandfather dove in. She didn’t know whether either of the men might have been struck, and that concerned her.


Leaning her head back against the wagon wall, Amelina looked up at the stars, sighing as she prayed that all would work out. She was so tired of all this. She wanted to go back home to Gondor. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go. She fought tears, thinking of how happy she had been, that day back in the spring when she had set out toward Hal’s family estate so that she could meet his ailing father.. and so they could be married. And then.. the Haradrim had struck, taking her and the other passengers prisoner.

After the incident with Hal and the other man, all of the captives' rations were cut shorter. A few more days passed, and Amelina couldn’t help but notice that the Sagath became increasingly more anxious. It took her several days to realize why, and that was only by chance. As it happened, the caravan was traveling along, as they had been doing every day. Amelina was looking back, thinking forlornly of home, and wishing that she wasn’t bound. The wagon she and Mae Wen were in was at the back at the moment, and there were only a few men bringing up the rear. She had the wildest notion that if she weren’t bound, maybe she could slip off the wagon and somehow get by them, undetected, and escape. Of course, it was a silly notion, she knew, and only a crazy fantasy born of distant hope. She turned her head and looked forward again, then sighed a little as she knew such a thing could never work. A moment later, she looked backward once more, only to blink in surprise as she saw there were two less men than there had been, just a moment ago.

She glanced around carefully, finding no trace of them. Turning to Mae Wen, she whispered, “Did you just see something happen?”

Mae Wen had not been looking in that direction. She shook her head, looking at her questioningly. “What is it?” She wondered.

“I just..” She hesitated, then continued. “There were four men traveling at the rear, and now there are only two.” She whispered, confused. She looked back again. “They’ve just.. vanished. The horses are still there, but.. not the men.”

Mae Wen looked quite intrigued by this news. “What do you think happened?” She asked.

“I.. couldn’t say.” Amelina answered, slowly. “I have my hopes, but…”

Mae Wen nodded slightly. “As do I.” She whispered back, smiling faintly.


They both continued to pay more attention over the next couple of days, and between the pair of their watchful eyes, the two young ladies began to notice more instances like that. A couple of men on guard duty would vanish from their post in the middle of the night. Those trailing along toward the back of the group would disappear. Occasionally, the girls would hear some rumor about the bodies having been found, but usually they could not understand much of what was being said by their captors. But they gleaned enough information to understand that the men were not simply vanishing; they were being killed.

Amelina’s thoughts went to Hal at that, wondering if he was responsible for picking off the men, one or two at a time. It was about the only way that two men could take on an entire company, after all. Still, she tried not to let her hopes rise too high. She had no proof that it was him, as she did not see him nor hear anything from him. Still, who else would it be?

The number of their enemies shrank steadily as the days went on, and it was evident that the Sagath were getting increasingly more nervous and agitated by the day. There were even whispers about a ghost haunting them. Mae Wen and Amelina whispered softly together upon hearing this. They both worried what that might mean, but they eventually decided that perhaps it was only a rumor. The Sagath could not explain their men dying as they were, and so they spoke of ghosts and superstition.

As this went on, Amelina and Mae Wen began to pick up a little bit more information, here and there. Some of the bodies recovered, apparently, had been slain by Sagath's own arrows. Others had no obvious wounds, but had simply.. died. Which was probably what had led them to suspect it was a ghost. On the first, they would send a party of scouts to explore around and seek for the killer, but they never found anything. Any tracks they discovered would mysteriously vanish after a time. And many times, the scouts would not return.

Amelina, upon hearing about this, couldn’t help but let her hopes soar with delight. She just knew, somehow, that it was Hal. That sounded exactly like the sort of thing a ranger would do. That he would do. She didn’t know how much Mae Wen’s grandfather was involved in all this, but she had no question that Hal was behind it.

As this continued day by day, the men began to be more wary, more alert, and more skittish about setting up camp. Every night, so far, they had been losing several men as they slept. Three mornings in a row, every guard that around the perimeter of camp was found dead, and several more men were found dead in their beds, with arrows sticking out of them. Their own arrows.

Over the next week, Amelina got in the habit of trying to count the Sagath men when they stopped for camp, and again when they broke camp in the morning, so that she could keep track of the steady decrease. Their progress slowed tremendously as their numbers shrank, as there were fewer people to drive the wagons and fulfil other tasks, like packing up camp and such. Amelina felt sure that it was only a matter of time before Hal would try again to rescue them, but she knew that he needed to keep striking at them, picking them off little by little, bringing their numbers down enough that he wouldn't be so heavily outnumbered.

She tried to be patient, but it was difficult, knowing he was out there. That the Sagath were hunting for him.. and that he was taking on their entire tribe, with only one old man to help him. She also began to wonder what the Sagath might do with their captives if this continued for much longer. Hopefully, they would be as safe as they were right now, but she could not be sure. Hopefully, Hal would be able to help them, soon. She was so desperate to have this whole nightmare come to an end. She sent a silent prayer to the Valar to keep her beloved safe from harm as he made his attempts to rescue her and the others.

[Rillewen]

(Private)

Hal Veranis
(Alone now)
Lower Khand
Autumn of 3000, Third Age

After burying the body of his friend, Hal focused all of his thoughts and energy toward the task at hand. He watched them, waiting for his chance. The moment he saw one of the men move off alone(probably to relieve himself), Hal struck. Swiftly and silently. He was forced to attack at close quarters, which meant he also had to finish him off before the man could raise the alarm. But once he had taken out the first of his enemies, Hal obtained a bow and quiver of arrows, for which he was extremely grateful. Somehow, it seemed fitting to use weapons taken from his enemy, and it also seemed to strike at their nerves, and make them feel unsettled. He had been wishing he’d brought his own bow along, all this time. Now, finally, he had a long-range weapon to use against them. And he meant to get as much use out of it as he could.

Without Shen there to aid him, Hal knew that the only way he was going to accomplish his goal was if he took out his enemy little bits at a time. The plan to sneak in, grab the girls, and sneak back out again had clearly not worked, and with disastrous results. Therefore, he realized he would have to be patient, chipping away at their numbers little by little, until the group had dwindled down enough that he would stand a chance fighting them on his own. Therefore, as much as it pained him to resist making any attempt at rescuing the girls yet, Hal made up his mind that he could not make another attempt until he was certain he could handle the enemy, all by himself. Which meant, he had to strike whenever he could, then disappear before they could find him. And hope that they didn’t hurt any of their captors in the meanwhile.

Each time he slew one of the enemy, the young man took anything of use that they were carrying, particularly arrows, if he could get to the body before the others found it. Sometimes, they noticed their friends were missing too soon for him to accomplish this. This biggest trouble was finding a place from which he could shoot them while remaining hidden, himself. The desertous terrain made it rather difficult to camouflage himself, but Hal was learning. He had picked up a sand-colored cloak in one of the villages they’d passed, and had fashioned a sort of hat, wrapped in a raggedy piece of burlap with a 'veil' hanging down to conceal his face. To the top and sides of this, he had attached some twigs and things from the sparse foliage that grew around the desert, so that it broke up the shape of his head and shoulders, along with some other camouflage tricks he had adapted from his knowledge of blending into the forest.

As the days went on, Hal relentlessly struck at his foes, while also noticing that their course had begun to double back again. They seemed to be returning to Rhun now, apparently having grown tired of the Harad and Khand villages, or else it was due to his attacks. He could not have said why. He wasn’t sure they even had a reason, for that matter. He didn't really know what drove them to do the things they did. He just wanted to decrease their numbers enough to give himself a fighting chance, and get his girl back.

---

The warriors of the tribe were getting nervous, that much was obvious from watching them. Hal smiled grimly as he lay on his belly, watching the camp. They had been steadily growing more vigilant at night, increasing the number of men on guard, changing shifts more frequently, and so forth... which made things a bit more challenging for Hal. But he had been through skirmishes in Ithilien during the few short years he had been a ranger there. He had fought both orcs and men in the past, using similar tactics. He had trained for just this sort of thing. While he was not in familiar terrain, Hal had begun to get used to this absurdly dry, hot land. He had been learning how to disguise himself into the terrain, and how to tolerate hiding in some of the most uncomfortable places. At the moment, he was nestled under a cluster of thorny bushes, with his camouflage cloak spread carefully across his back, his hat with the burlap ‘veil’ helping not only to shield his face from view, but to block out the sun a bit, too. Except it was dark now, so there was no need for sun protection at the moment. His bow lay next to him as he waited for the camp to settle down and begin to sleep.

Finally, he deemed the time was right. The moon had risen high overhead, providing him with sufficient light to see by. He smiled grimly, glad that this would make it easier to take a shot. But, it would also make it easier for them to locate him, if they realized what was happening. He slowly and carefully shifted up to one knee, into a better position to shoot from, wincing slightly from the thorns of the bush.

The first guard dropped without a sound. He liked it best when that happened. However, when he took the next shot, the man let out a gasp, and one of the other guards looked over and noticed his buddy fall over. Before Hal could get another arrow on the string, he had shouted to raise the alarm. Hal mentally grumbled as he watched the camp suddenly spring awake. He kept very, very still. Waiting. Watching. His heart pounding wildly.

He watched while they checked the guy, found the arrow sticking out of his throat, and then found the other dead guy. They began to warily spread out, bringing torches along to try and locate the source of the arrows. Another annoyance. Hal held back a sigh and shifted back down slowly, returning to his lying down position. And then, he just waited.

Even when they approached the very patch of bushes where he lay hidden, they saw nothing. As they peered into the branches, he kept his eyes half-closed, watching through his eyelashes so they wouldn’t see his eyes glinting through the burlap veil. His heart was racing, his body tensed to spring out of here and fight... And then they moved on, just as they had done dozens of times before over the past couple of weeks. He managed to suppress a smile as he let his muscles relax slowly.

Eventually, the men returned with no explanation for the mysterious arrows slaying two of their men. They settled down gradually, although they were clearly uneasy. He could see them constantly looking out into the desert, searching, watching, waiting. He didn’t dare move. It seemed to him that the whole tribe remained restless and wary, not getting much sleep through the night. Maybe that was a good thing. They'd be sleep deprived in the morning. If this kept up... that might be just what he needed. He smiled faintly at that thought.

---

The following day, he waited a long while after they had broken camp before crawling out from his spot. He spent the next hour or so pushing himself to close the distance between them, hoping he might be able to take out a couple of them even while they were on the move. While he greatly missed his companion and friend, Hal couldn’t help but notice that he could actually move much swifter now that he was by himself. Which made it much easier to keep up with his quarry.

Suddenly, as he was hastening along in the wake of the wagons, five men leaped out at him from behind a cluster of boulders. Hal was startled; they had never done this before, and he had not been watching for any sort of ambush, which he regretted now. Swiftly, he assessed the situation, while automatically shifting into a fighting stance, and pivoted to one side as the first man came at him. The second, he met with a spinning side kick that caught the man in the gut, making him double over.

Hal sidestepped to avoid a spear thrust from another guy, caught the spear with one hand, and yanked in a particular manner to pull it away from the man. Twirling it around to have the point toward his foes, he used the weapon to keep the other four at bay for a moment. But the fifth man was straightening again, recovering already from the kick. He lunged forward to grab Hal from behind, looping an arm around his neck. Hal ducked his chin inward to keep the arm from reaching his throat, grabbed the man’s elbow as he stepped slightly to one side, and twisted himself free with a simple maneuver that Shen had taught him. Still gripping the arm, Hal twisted it at a painfully awkward angle, then slammed his fist down just above the elbow, breaking the arm. As the man screamed, Hal let him fall to the ground and thrust the spear into the chest of one of the others who had rushed toward him.

As the others hesitated slightly after witnessing that, Hal shifted his grip on the spear and turned in a slow circle as the men spread out with the clear intention of keeping him surrounded, while the fifth lay on the ground, groaning in agony as he tried to hold his arm.

The first man to rush in was swinging a sword. Hal raised the staff and deflected it, then delivered a strong kick to the man's chest that knocked him backward. The man’s companions yelled and tried to overwhelm him by all moving in at once. For the next few moments, Hal was frantically working to fend them all off. Finally, as he ducked a mace strike meant for him, he was satisfied to see one of the other men take the blow in his stead. It was a killing blow. Three left.

As another tried to stab him with a dagger at closer range, Hal hastily caught his wrist and kept a secure grip on it as he threw a left hook at the man’s jaw. The dagger ended up in Hal’s hand, then he planted the blade in between the man's ribs. Down to two.

They were trying to keep him pinned between them, but he could see that they looked nervous. They both backed away just out of his spear range, keeping a wary circle moving around him. Hal kept his gaze split between the two of them, ready, waiting for whoever would make the first move, or watching for an opening. When he saw it, the men were surprised. While they had been careful to keep out of the reach of the spear, they had not anticipated how far he could travel with a kick. It was a trick Shen had taught him; how to cover a surprising distance with a single leap; one of the more impressive flying kicks that Shen had taught him. The man crumpled to the ground as Hal turned to face the last man standing.

His eyes had gone wide, watching all of this happening to his companions. After a little hesitation, he came at Hal with a desperate flurry of attacks. Hal was impressed by the man’s tenacity, but he could not let himself be slain. Too many people depended on him by now, not just Amelina.. and not just Mae Wen. He drew his own sword hastily, tossing the spear away as he blocked, parried and countered. At last, as his foe came in for a lunging stab, Hal saw his chance to defeat him. He pivoted to one side, blocking the sword away with his own pointed upward, as his free hand came up to catch the man's arms, holding him in place while Hal threw a swift roundhouse to the knee, followed that immediately by bashing the hilt of his sword into the man’s face before turning the blade toward him, and ended the fight by slicing his blade across his foe's throat.

As the body thudded to the ground, Hal heard a noise and turned to see the last guy starting to get back up. He wore a nervous expression, one hand reaching for the spear Hal had tossed aside, the other hanging uselessly. Right, that one had been knocked out or stunned when Hal's heel had slammed down into his collarbone. Hal quickly put an end to him, impaling his enemy through the chest to ensure he would no longer be a problem.

That left only the first one; the one with the broken arm. Hal turned to look at him, seeing that he was staring with wide eyes at all of this, looking frightened. His arm remained poised at a terribly wrong angle. But his other hand was gripping a dagger. Hal stepped swiftly closer and pointed his sword at the man’s throat. “Drop it.” he ordered. “Do you understand me?” He jerked his chin slightly toward the dagger. “Drop it.” Hal’s eyes narrowed, and the two held a staring contest for some time. The man glared at him defiantly for a moment. When he looked like he might be thinking about throwing the dagger at him, Hal pressed his boot hard onto the man’s broken arm, bringing forth a howl of pain. “Drop it!” Hal demanded.

This time, after a moment, the man tossed it out of his reach, whimpering in agony.

“Ah.. so you do understand,” Hal muttered. He eased off of the arm and picked up the dagger, taking a look at it while keeping an eye on the man. He ended up sticking it in his own belt.

Now, what to do? Hal eyed the man, almost wishing he would try something. Mentally, he challenged him to do something that would bring about Hal having to kill him. Because Hal could not, in good conscience, kill a wounded, unarmed man. Not without reasonable cause. Give me a good reason, he willed mentally. He slowly let out a breath and crouched near him. “Well.. here we are.” He frowned. He hadn’t anticipating taking any of the enemy alive.

“Why.. kill us, Ghost?” The man gasped. His arm was clearly in much pain.

“Ghost?” Hal smiled wryly. “No. I’m no ghost,” He shook his head slowly. “I’m just a man who wants his woman back.” He informed his hostage. He frowned, realizing that he had an opportunity here. He repositioned to sit cross-legged on the sand. “Why are you taking all these people, anyway? Where are you going with them?” Perhaps, if he could learn that, he could anticipate where they would go. That could be beneficial, right?

The man stared at him, scowling, silent. He did not look like he believed Hal's claim that he was not a ghost, either.

Hal frowned and waited for a moment, wondering if he had understood the question, or was simply refusing to answer. He decided it was the latter. His hand shot out and took hold of the man’s broken arm, twisting slightly, which caused him to yelp sharply again. “Answer me.” Hal was in no mood to play games here, and he needed to catch up to them soon. But he did want to know.. why? Why were they doing all of this?

“Kerkassk!” The man cried out in pain. “For Kerkassk!”

Hal let go and frowned. Who or what in Arda was that? He gave the man a stern look. “Explain.”

The man took several shuddering breaths as he tried to wait for the pain to subside. He groaned, looking at his arm in despair.

Hal waited patiently for a while, but his patience soon wore off. "Answer." He insisted. "Who, or what, is Kerkassk?" He asked in a cold, flat tone. Was it a person? An event? A place? An object? If a person, who would Kerkassk be, he wondered? He had never heard of anyone by that name. Their tribe leader, maybe?

The man stared at him as if he had said the most absurd thing. “Kerkassk.. God of Plains,” He frowned and said a few words in his own language, which Hal did not understand.

But Hal did recognize the term 'God of Plains'. Shen had told him about some of the lands near his own, and what he knew of their beliefs and customs. This was yet another name that the Dark Lord used, mostly in the region of Rhun. Hal's heart clenched up at the realization. “He goes by another name, where I come from,” Hal said darkly, his eyes narrowing as he thought about this. “You were on the very borders of His dark land, weeks ago.” He frowned, trying to make sense of this. “You went right past it and continued to attack more villages... what's that about?" As glad as Hal was that Amelina and the others had not been taken there (yet), he was confused.

It took a lot longer than Hal liked, due to the language barrier, but eventually his prisoner managed to communicate enough for Hal to understand. From what he gathered, the tribe habitually wandered the lands, going wherever they liked, taking slaves and provisions from any villages or travelers they passed. They had been quite abundant in their spoils this season, and they were growing bolder, venturing further and further, when the 'Ghost' began to strike, and they grew fearful. They were, now, retreating from the territory of the 'ghost'.. except he kept following them. Hal's heart sank when he heard the man speak of someone that he called the 'war priest' who had offered some of the captives as an offering to 'Kerkassk', but when that didn't work, he had suggested bringing the rest of their slaves directly to the land of their god, as a tribute in hopes that he would give them protection from this new terror.

Hal’s eyes narrowed, and he had to remind himself that he had caught glimpses of both Amelina and Mae Wen, early that morning. Over the past few weeks since he had been hounding the tribe, he'd seen many of the captives being made to do various chores around the camp, both when they stopped for the night, and when they packed up in the morning. He'd seen them both going about their tasks. So, at least he knew that neither of them had been included in this offering.. but he didn't like the thought of any of them being taken off as a tribute to the dark land. He needed to hurry. “Kerkassk isn’t getting anyone,” he grumbled, shifting to get to his feet. He’d have to figure out what to do about this guy. But, while he was glancing around for something to use to bind his arm, the guy surprised him by lunging toward him with another knife; apparently, while they had been talking, the man had been waiting for a chance to pull it from his boot or something. Despite his good arm being severely broken, the man used his off hand to attack Hal.

Caught by surprise, Hal twisted hastily aside and took a gash to the arm before he had a chance to do anything else. It didn’t take long for him to finish the guy off, and in a way, he was glad. Because that solved his problem of what to do with the guy.

Sighing, Hal stood up and looked around. He was tired, hot, and splattered with blood.. and he had a cut to take care of. But it could wait. After taking anything useful off of the bodies, he took off once again, a new sense of urgency pushing him to hasten his steps and catch up to the caravan. He needed to take them out before they reached the Cursed land again, because this time, he knew they would not simply be skirting around it.

[Rillewen]

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Amelina Carandol, Mae Wen Yong & Halberion Veranis
At the base of the Ephel Duath
Late Autumn of 3000, Third Age

Night had fallen early. Amelina wasn’t sure whether it was because of the season, or the location. Nearby, the mountains loomed. The same ones to which they had once fled in hopes of finding refuge. Now, they no longer seemed like a place to seek shelter, hiding from their captors, but rather, a place of fear and dread. A place they were being taken now against their will. The caravan had made camp in the rather sickly-looking forest that somehow managed to still exist at the base of the Ephel Duath. If she remembered correctly from maps she had seen, then they were not far from the Sea of Nurnen, and would probably arrive there in a couple more days. But she did not want to arrive there at all.. for it was far too close to a terror far worse than the captors she was with now. Beyond these mountains.. she didn’t want to know what to expect. And this time, they weren’t merely traveling along beside the range, but they were preparing to travel straight beyond, into the dark land on the other side of those mountains. Into a dreadful future that awaited them there.

Firelight flickered on the faces of several women as well as men, mostly all young. All sitting uncomfortably with their backs to a tree, hands bound behind them, just out of the reach of the warmth of the fire. At the edges of sight, a handful of armed men stood around, keeping watch for predators, as well as keeping an eye on their prisoners. Amelina had been keeping count, and she was inwardly pleased to see that the number had dropped to under twenty men by now. Eighteen total. Still, she thought it was too many for Hal to manage by himself.. even if Mae Wen’s grandfather was with him. She had seen them both try it, and be overwhelmed by a similar number, before the rest of the tribe arrived and forced them to flee.

But time was running out. She was growing anxious. She had heard some rumors from some of the captives who could understand the men’s language a bit better than she had. And what she’d heard was not pleasant. But it did explain what they had done to several of their fellow captives a while back. Amelina shuddered slightly at the memory of that horrible murder - for it was nothing else but that - and while she felt relieved that she had not been one of those who was chosen for that sickening ritual thing.. she felt terribly sad for those who had been chosen for it.

She was quietly sitting there, wishing the warmth of the fire would reach her, dimly aware of Mae Wen sitting across the camp from her. Her friend was subtly attempting to work her ropes loose. Just as she had done every night. Without success, just as she had failed every night so far. It had become such a regular thing to see her friend do, that Amelina hardly thought about it anymore. As for herself, she had tried for the first several weeks, but eventually she had recognized that the ropes were not going to budge, and she was only rubbing her wrists raw from trying. They hurt bad enough without her adding more pain to them.

The first she noticed of anything going on was when the Sagath guard nearest to her suddenly reached for his weapon in alarm. As soon as he noticed something that alarmed him, a call went out, raising the other half of the men from sleep. The Sagath had been diminished to the point that they had begun to have half sleep while the other half stood guard, and swap shifts halfway through the night. Amelina had been about to doze off, but now she lifted her head and watched with interest. Hal was at it again, she thought with a pleased feeling. How many of their enemies would be left, by morning, she wondered? How many more nights before he would be able to actually rescue them?

The man who had called the warning fell over with an arrow in his throat soon after. But it was too late; the alarm had been raised. In moments, the camp was awake and arming themselves hastily, moving closer together as they tried to figure out where the attack was coming from. Amelina couldn’t tell, and it seemed that the Sagath men couldn’t, either. Another arrow struck from another angle, dropping another man. The others turned hastily in that direction and hurried toward the archer, raising shields.

Once all but a couple of the men ventured out of her field of vision to seek the attacker, Amelina could only guess at what was happening. She heard shouting, and she guessed by the sound of it that another man had been shot. She listened, anxious to learn what was happening. Things went quiet. The men seemed to be searching in the darkness. She could see their torches moving around in the night. She could hear their voices as they talked to one another, and she could imagine the sort of things they might be saying. 'Over there. This way. I saw something move there,' and so forth.

After a few moments, one of the men who had remained to guard the camp suddenly groaned and grabbed his gut, surprised to find an arrow sticking out of it. Then he tumbled over. The other whirled around at the sound, startled to realize that the arrow had come from the opposite direction from where his fellows had gone to look for the attacker. Before he could call out, he dropped from another swift arrow that planted into his ribs.

Amelina blinked as she watched him fall over, realizing that for the first time since all this began, they were completely unguarded. And no sooner had she come to that realization, than Hal was kneeling behind the tree she was tied to. “Amelina.. don’t worry, I’m here.” He spoke softly. “I’m going to bring you home, at last.”

Feeling her heart soar with happiness to hear his voice, and his words, Amelina gave a little nod as her eyes filled with happy tears. But she whispered over her shoulder, “Untie my friend first,” She urged him, with a nod toward Mae Wen. As much as she wanted her hands freed now, she knew that the other girl would be far more useful to Hal than herself, right now. “She can help you fight, believe me. She’ll be a lot more help than I would, and you’re going to need it.” She told him hastily.

He paused, hesitating just briefly but then gave a little nod. “I’ll be back for you,” He promised in a murmur, then hastened across the camp to untie the girl Amelina had nodded toward. “Mae Wen?” He guessed, as he hastily undid her bonds. He wasn’t really quite guessing, as he had heard Shen speak of her often enough to have recognized which one she was, from afar.

“Yes.” Mae Wen answered, gladly rubbed her wrists once they were free. “We’d better hurry, they’re coming back,” She warned hastily, having been keeping an eye on the torches.

“I know." He answered. "Your grandfather said you can fight pretty well, and Amelina said so, too. So, I figure I may need your help.” Hal spoke softly, urgently. “Can you stay where you are and pretend to still be tied, and wait until the right moment before you jump in to help?” He asked.

Mae Wen looked at him thoughtfully, then nodded, but there was something else on her mind at the moment. “My grandfather is not with you, this time.” She observed, frowning.

Hal looked down at these words, his heart sinking at the reminder about that sad news. “No… I’m sorry.” He whispered sadly. “They… their spears.. I couldn’t save him.” He inwardly cringed. "I'm really sorry, Mae Wen." he said quietly again, but he shook his head to return to the present. “I’ll.. try and pick off as many as I can before we get into a close quarters fight, alright?”

“Alright.” She agreed softly, struggling to keep her grief at bay for now.

Hal withdrew into the darkness seconds before the Sagath men hastened back into camp, talking among themselves with apparent irritation. The ‘ghost’ had eluded them yet again, and they were upset and annoyed at the inconvenience. To have rushed off into the night to seek for the attacker, only to return without any success. They were nervous and weary of this wild goose chase, and eager to return to their sleep. But upon returning to their camp, their eyes widened in alarm to see the two dead guards lying on the ground.

In the confusion that followed this alarming discovery, three more arrows zipped through the air, one after another as fast as Hal could shoot them, and then he hastily withdrew and began maneuvering his way through the forest, trying to get at them from another angle while the men were still searching for where the arrows had come from. As he reached a spot where he could crouch among the undergrowth, he looked back to assess the damage he'd done. He had wounded one man and killed two others with those three arrows. The next two arrows he fired were spaced a couple seconds further apart as he took more careful aim. He only had one arrow left now, so he had to make it count.

But the remaining men quickly pinpointed his location. As they turned and made their way toward him, Hal took aim with that last arrow, his heart racing wildly as he struggled to keep himself calm. One of them spotted him and called to his fellows, pointing him out. They ran for him. Hal was having difficulty getting a clear shot, and his feet moved swiftly, backing up to put more distance between himself and them as they rushed toward him. He nearly tripped over some thick bushes, but as it turned out, this was fortunate timing; a spear tip grazed past his arm just as he lurched slightly to one side in an awkward attempt to avoid falling down. If he had not tripped and had to catch his balance, that spear would have struck him right in the chest.

Feeling desperation beginning to clutch at his heart now, Hal cast his gaze around swiftly, seeking the enemy that would likely give him the most trouble in a close-up fight, and made his selection. A few more spears were thrown at him. Hal swiftly dove to one side, hit the ground and rolled, coming up into a kneeling position as he hastily found his target again. He drew back, took an extra second to be sure of his aim, then released. The big guy with a spiked mace was taken out of the fight permanently.

His arrows now expended, Hal used the bow to block a strike from the first man to reach him, then kicked the guy in the gut with a strong side kick, then grabbed him by the shoulders and slung him around just in time to take a stab from a spear that was meant for Hal. “Anytime now!” He yelled from the midst of his foes as he ducked a sword aimed for his head.


As Amelina watched the remaining men close in around Hal, she caught her breath and looked at Mae Wen with panic gripping her heart. At Hal’s shout, the other girl leaped up and grabbed a spear from one of the dead guys, running toward the melee without hesitation. Amelina reminded herself to breathe. She was trying to keep track of how many were left, now. She thought she counted seven of them left, but they kept moving around so much, it was difficult to be sure. Two against seven.. could they do it? She bit her lip, wishing she knew a way to help her beloved... and prayed that everything would work out alright.

[Rillewen]

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Amelina Carandol, Mae Wen Yon & Halberion Veranis
At the base of the Ephel Duath
Late Autumn of 3000, Third Age

Mae Wen’s appeared behind the remaining Sagath men with a whirlwind of strikes; both with her newly acquired spear as well as from her feet. She used her spear as a staff weapon to block, stab, and jab against the men, until one of them managed to catch the spear and wrest it out of her grasp, which left her - apparently - disarmed.

Hal’s bow had gotten snapped as he blocked a downward strike from a sword, so he tossed it aside and drew his own sword, fending off attacks from the midst of the enemies. As Mae Wen joined the fight, the enemy was caught off guard. Two more died before they even realized that she was free and come at them from their rear.

Hal grimaced as he took a partial blow to the shoulder; he blocked it a bit late, so it wasn’t as damaging of a blow as it would have been otherwise. But his block of the strike opened up the opponent to a counterattack Hal had learned from Shen. He took the opportunity to catch the enemy’s arm and twist it around sharply, then shoved him into two others who were moving in to attack, which knocked all three of them back a few steps. A brief, but welcome respite.

Concerned for the girl, Hal turned and saw Mae Wen fiercely fighting the other two... and to his amazement, he noticed her slash across one man’s face with a small folding hand fan, so that the sharpened, bamboo ribs of the fan scratched him and made him yelp and back away in surprise. As quick as she had done that, the fan closed up into a rather solid 'stick' which she used to jab into the gut of the other man who was coming up to attack her. She dodged another attack from the first man before hastily turning back to kick the second with a strong spinning side kick that knocked him back several steps.

Hal could only spare a quick glance, but he recognized that she might need a bit of help. He swiftly dispatched one of them before turning back to meet his own foes, who had already started recovered from being unbalanced. He’d be asking about the fan later… that was really neat! But for now, he had to make sure that they were both able to talk, later.

Now, facing only one of the men, Mae Wen managed to finish him off and swiftly joined Hal in facing the last three, who had begun to move to surround them the best they could. The two fought the last three men back-to-back, just as he had done before with Shen. Only this time, the odds were much higher in their favor. Three soon became two, and then.. almost simultaneously, the last two were slain as Hal and Mae Wen worked together to finish them off.
Both stood breathing hard, glancing around in near disbelief at the fact that it seemed they had actually done it. Or... so they thought.

“Behind you!” Amelina called out at that moment, hastily warning them about the one man who had been wounded, who had managed to drag himself up just enough to grab a spear, which he threw toward them in a last effort to slay at least one of them.

Mae Wen and Hal spun around to face the threat that both had forgotten about. The man had taken an arrow in the knee, which prevented him from standing fully. But it didn’t prevent him from throwing the spear. Hal swiftly leaned to the side to avoid it, watching as the weapon flew past within inches of his head. Meanwhile, Mae Wen started running toward the guy, leaping forward in a flying side kick that caught him in the chest and knocked him flat.

Hal was right behind her, seeing the man drawing a knife even as he sputtered and gasped for breath, but he slowed to a stop as he watched Mae Wen take care of it herself; as the man lunged to attack her, Mae Wen caught his arm and trapped it in such a way that he could do no harm with the weapon, and then she finished him with a forceful jab of her fan into his throat, using the end with the sharpened ribs. She glared at the leader of the tribe as he died, and had to remind herself of her grandfather's teachings; that one must not allow hatred and revenge to settle in the heart. She closed her eyes and forced herself to relax her stance as she turned to Hal. “Is that all of them?” She asked, breathing hard as she glanced around, still wide-eyed with adrenaline.

Hal looked around as well. “I think so..” He could hardly believe it, but he saw no more Sagath men moving. It hardly seemed possible, after all this time.

Having taken the dagger from her defeated foe, Mae Wen still clutched it in one hand, and her fan in the other, looking as if she expected more to come out of the darkness.

“Let’s free these people, now.” Hal suggested, putting his hand out to rest on her shoulder, then with the other, he gently moved her arm downward to entice her to lower the blade. "It's over, now, Mae Wen." He assured her. "We did it."

Though she still held onto the knife, Mae Wen let her hand fall down to her side. She looked up at Hal. "Thank you. I know, it was not for me that you did this, but.. thank you."

Hal smiled. "We've got a few things to talk about.. but for now, accept my thanks to you. I couldn't have fought them without your help." He informed her. "Now, let's get everyone untied and get out of here." He hastened over to Amelina and untied her, while Mae Wen set off to the other side of camp and began freeing some of the others.


“Oh, Hal! I was so worried about you!” Amelina threw her freed arms around him as soon as he had come around to face her again, barely holding back tears of joy and relief. Hal held her tight, kissing her happily.

When they finally broke apart, they both smiled at each other for a moment before remembering the others. "Right, best help out," Hal recalled, grinning slightly. He took her hands in his and kissed them both lightly before parting ways from her, reluctantly, so that he could help untie the other captives. Amelina helped as well, and it didn't take long before everyone was unbound at last.

“What now?” Amelina asked as the last person was untied.

“Now.. we get everyone home.” Hal smiled and put an arm around her, holding her close as he kissed her again.

---

Within an hour, the wagons and supplies of the defeated Sagath tribe had been taken over and redistributed, so that they carried only what the group actually needed to carry, with room for the former captives to ride in. This time, not as captives, but as free people. It took a little while to make everyone understand what was going on, given the diverse languages and dialects from the various people gathered together, but, at last, it seemed that everyone had a good idea what was going to happen now.

As much as Hal wanted to take Amelina home right away, he felt a responsibility to the others, to make sure that everyone was returned to their respective homes, which meant he would travel along a similar course that the Sagath had taken while pillaging, so as to help the people get back to their villages. He only planned to go as far as the first village of the Harad people, and he would send all the people of Harad onward to find their respective villages themselves while the main group set off toward Rhun and any other area that people came from.

Amelina hugged him happily as they loaded up the wagons. Everyone was eager to get home, and it was looking like they'd be able to set out at first light. But, while he stood there with his arm around Amelina, he noticed Mae Wen sitting on the tailgate of one of the wagons they would be taking, looking off toward the east. She looked sad. Hal frowned, realizing that she was looking toward where she had once lived with her grandfather, in the far East. He also recalled that he needed to talk with her. “I’ll be back,” He whispered to Amelina, and stepped away from his fiance, and toward the Easterner girl.

“Mae Wen.” He spoke softly as he approached. “Mind if I sit and talk with you?”

She looked up and managed a faint smile. “I do not mind." She replied. "You fight well.” She told him as he took a seat next to her.

He gave a little smile. “Thank you. Your grandfather taught me a lot of it.” He replied quietly.

Mae Wen looked at him with surprise. “He did?”

“Yes. I met him months ago, in Ithilien.” He paused. “We decided to team up and work together, to find you and Amelina. And I asked him to teach me how to fight like he fought, and he agreed.”
She smiled sadly and was quiet for a long moment before speaking again. "Grandfather would not teach just anyone the ways of Magtāl-leñ." She informed him. She tilted her head curiously. "Amelina and I talked about you and my grandfather, often. When we were able to talk together, anyway.” She told him. “She knew you would come for her. And I knew that he would come for me.” She looked down in sorrow.

Hal nodded with a small pang of sorrow, as well. “He became a mentor to me.. he was like the grandfather I never had.” He swallowed. “He.. meant a lot to me. I am honored to learn that he.. must have seen something in me that he liked.”

"Yes. He must have." Mae Wen agreed softly, smiling faintly. She looked at him. "You thought of him as a grandfather?"

Hal took a deep breath and nodded, then continued. “When he died, I made a promise to him. See, he was worried that you wouldn’t have anywhere to go after I freed you, and he said you had no more family.”

“That is true.” She answered softly.

“No, it isn’t.” Hal corrected her with a little smile. “And that is what I told him, too. I told him that he was as a grandfather to me, and that makes you as my sister. If you wish it, that is.” He added. “I promised him that if you wanted me to bring you back to Ôn, I would do so, but if you would like to come and live with Amelina and I, you’re welcome to live with us as long as you like. And you will be family to us, as long as you want to be.”

Mae Wen looked at him with surprise, staring for a few seconds. “Your sister?” She repeated slowly, thinking. “How does a thing like that work?”

Hal laughed, then shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never had a sister, nor a brother, so I couldn’t really tell you what to expect. But I’d be happy to have a little sister, if you don’t mind having me as a big brother.” He grinned.

“And I’d love to have you for a sister, too!” Amelina declared happily, having come up behind them and overheard the last part.

Mae Wen turned, then laughed. “Yes! We shall be sisters, you and I.” She stood and hugged Amelina, then turned to Hal with a growing smile. “Yes. I will be your sister.” She hesitated, then hugged him too, smiling. “It is what grandfather would want, yes?”

Hal smiled as he pulled Amelina into the hug as well, turning it into a group hug. A family hug. “Yes,” He said softly. “Grandfather would be happy if he could see us, now.”

“Well!” Amelina stepped back after a moment, smiling. “Let’s get going, so we can all get home sooner.”

---

Nearing the Veranis Estate, in the vicinity of Linhir, Gondor
Early Spring
(In conclusion)

It took a few more months to deliver everyone else back to their own lands and villages, but at last, as winter coming to an end, Hal, Amelina, and Mae Wen rode the last stretch of the journey by themselves. After sending the last of the captives off with the last wagon, they had kept four horses for themselves; one for carrying supplies, and another for each of them.

“Home is not far, now.” Hal declared happily once he began to see the familiar landmarks that told him they would arrive within the hour. Yet, as eager as he was to get home, he was a little concerned what would happen when his father learned that he had brought home not only the commoner girl he wanted to marry, but another girl as well, whom he was adopting as a sister. An Easterling girl, at that. He knew that his father would probably never accept her, and Hal wasn’t sure what to do about that. He was anticipating quite a lot of arguments in store for him. But he figured he’d cross that bridge when they came to it.

As it turned out, Hal didn’t have to worry about that at all. As they approached the Veranis estate, Hal was greeted by a servant who had been with the Veranis family for a long time. The very same one who had set out with him nearly a year ago to find out what had happened to Amelina, when she didn't arrive when she was expected. Hal remembered how, upon finding the evidence of her carriage being attacked, signs that she had been taken by the Haradrim ambush party, he had sent this man to take his horse to Minas Tirith for boarding, because he didn’t want the man to return to the estate with Hal’s horse, without Hal.. lest his father see this and get the wrong idea. The old lord's health was failing, and Hal figured the last thing he needed was a shock like that.


“You’ve returned!” Henion seemed amazed, then glanced curiously at the two girls, particularly at Mae Wen.

Hal gave a little laugh. “You don’t have to sound so surprised about it, Eithon.” He smirked. “Did you doubt that I would be back?”

“N-no, my lord, it’s just.. it has been so long.” Eithon explained. “There has been.. much to happen in your absence, sir.”

Hal glanced at the ladies, then turned back to him. “We’re all very tired. Let us get cleaned up before..”

“Sir, I must inform you,” Eithon looked uncomfortable and regretful, but determined. “Your father has passed away in your absence.” He said softly.

Hal paused and dropped his gaze down to his horse's neck, swallowing hard. “I see.” He murmured.

“Oh, Hal..” Amelina reached over to rest a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

Mae Wen glanced at him, unsure what this would mean for her, and decided to keep quiet for the moment. Still, it was clear that Hal was saddened by this news.

Drawing in a slow breath, Hal looked up again and met the gaze of Eithon. “Did he change his will, as he said he would?” He asked wearily, expecting the answer to be yes.

“I’m afraid so, my lord.” Eithon answered apologetically.

Hal gave a little nod. “Figured. He always was rather stubborn...” He shook his head and sighed. “Well. I still have the house, at least. And the orchards. Right?”

“Yes, my lord, that is correct. And your title. He could not deny you those things. But.. his will states that because you.. went off on this 'wild goose chase' as he called it, and refuse to marry the lady Angoleth, as he wished you to do.. that is all you shall get.” He explained regretfully. "I am sorry, sir."

“Alright. No need to apologize, Eithon. He told me that's what he'd do. I made my choice.” Hal nodded. “You’ve told me all I need to know.” He knew his father’s feelings about Hal marrying a common girl. His father was stubborn and closed minded, and had tried to use the threat of disinherited his son to prevent him from marry the girl he loved.. to try and force him to marry the girl his father had picked. Hal didn’t care though; he loved Amelina, and he was going to marry her. So what if he would no longer have any of the money that he would have inherited from his father. He didn’t need his father’s money. They would get by just fine without it, and as long as the orchards produced well in the years to come, there wouldn’t be anything to worry about. They would be perfectly happy from now on.

He turned to the girls and smiled faintly. “Well.. let’s not worry about that. Let's go get cleaned up and have supper. Eithon, will you go and ask the cook to start something for us?” He smiled. "I think we're due a bit of celebration for our return home." He turned to the girls again. "And then, tomorrow, I’ll show you both around the estate. This is your new home.” He told them both. Neither his future wife, nor his new sister, had been here before, so he was looking forward to showing them around the grounds where he had grown up, and the orchards, and so forth. But for right now, he was mostly looking forward to a good long bath, and a proper supper for the first time in almost a year.

And after that, he and Amelina had some wedding arrangements to manage, and perhaps look into whether there was any sort of legal procedures to handle as far as claiming Mae Wen as his sister. But whatever the case... they were all going to live happily from now on... he was sure of it. After the year they'd all had.. how could anything bad ever happen to them again?