Chapter 36

Khätif

March 3020

Lothíriel wondered who she could have been to Éomer before she had been taken and lost her memory. It was clear that she had had feelings for him based on what Erchirion had told her, but what had he felt for her? What did he feel for her now that she didn't remember her past? As she looked into his deep blue eyes, she could tell there was grief and pain mingled with the relief he had expressed from finding her. After several hours of sitting and listening to Erchirion's rendition of her life, she had to call for a reprieve. She stood and walked around, stretching her stiff muscles.

"It's a lot to take in, I'm sure." Éomer's voice was quiet and seemed to still the air around Lothíriel. She turned her head slightly to face him and nodded.

"It is, but at the same time, I'm glad to have found out that I do have a home and family to return to. The thought of wandering the world trying to find the people who loved me, if they even existed at all, was not an enticing idea for me."

"I'm sure that no matter where you would have gone, you would have found people who loved you." Éomer stared into her eyes. She felt helpless in his gaze, but it was not disconcerting, in fact it felt almost right. He opened his mouth to say something else, but before he had the chance, Erchirion and Zwendi approached them.

"Before the day is over, we should go into town." Zwendi crossed his arms over his chest. "The snake could arrive any day now and I want to make sure he knows where to find you." He looked at Éomer. "Prince Erchirion has agreed that you will follow us at a distance, but you must make sure you do not seem to be part of our company. I fear that if you are spotted with us, the snake will not take the bait."

"I don't like leaving her unprotected." Éomer let his hand rest on the pommel of his sword.

"I will be protected. I just need to appear as though I'm not." Lothíriel placed a hand on his arm gently, smiling. She could feel the heat of his skin against her palm and some of the tension left him as he looked at her again. "I did give my word, and I knew the risks when I gave it."

"But you didn't know everything you do now." Éomer placed his other hand over hers, and though she could tell that it was strong enough to crush nearly anything in its grip, he held her hand as though it was a fragile flower. As she felt the calluses, her heart skipped a beat and she withdrew her hand slowly. "Everything will be fine. Not only do I have Zwendi and his warriors, but I feel in my very core that nothing too terrible will happen so long as you are near."

The streets were busy, though that was to be expected. It was barely past midday and only after the sun had gone down would the streets grow quiet – aside from the odd thief and boys or girls in love. They had only just arrived in the city an hour before but Na'man had wasted no time sending men in each direction to spot the Oracle and report back to their lord. There was a reward for whoever found her first; Na'man had made that abundantly clear. The men had needed no other command. Na'man stood, scanning the crowd himself with Yusraa at his side. Yusraa wore a scarf over her head, while Na'man had his face under the shadow of a hood. If the Oracle was truly in the city, it wouldn't be long before they knew exactly where she was.

They remained where they were for several minutes before one of the men rushed toward Na'man. "My lord," he whispered his deference, "I have found her. She is in the center of the town where the market is busiest." Na'man nodded to the man though he made no move to leave. He turned his face towards Yusraa.

"Send your bird to follow her." Na'man leaned against a wall in the shadow of a building. "And be ready to leave as soon as the others return."

Yusraa didn't verbally acknowledge his command but instead took a seat close to him. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. Each breath inward seemed to fill her, making her body lighter and lighter. The weight of the earth fell away until she was suspended in nothing. Above her were streams of light, similar to how the rays of the sun looked under the water. Below her was nothing but noise. In the past, when she had first learned how to become one with Cel, she would remain for hours in this peaceful nothingness. She would stare up at the lights and let the noise become nothing more than a hum. Now, after years of experience, she hardly wasted a moment in following Na'man's command and joined her mind with her raven.

The instant brightness of the day blinded her momentarily. She felt her wings outstretch from her body, flapping at the discomfort as her eyes adjusted. She berated herself for not making sure Cel had been in a shadow before joining with him, but didn't dwell on it for long. There was nothing to change it now. Once she was comfortable, she flexed the feathers at her tail, opened her wings and burst from the edge of the roof. She flapped a few times, circling higher and higher until she could see the market. The day's hot air bubbled beneath her and she no longer needed to flap to remain suspended in the air and instead stretched herself as wide as possible, riding the wind silently.

It was always exhilarating to feel the wind rush past the black feathers, to feel nothing beneath her feet. There was a temptation, as there had been since she first took flight, to remain one with Cel, but she had heard of other bird people falling to that temptation and losing themselves forever within their birds. She would not lose herself. She knew she had to return to Na'man. Pushing the temptation aside, she reached the market place and within seconds found her prey.

She walked slowly from stall to stall, stopping with the slave girl. Mentally, Yusraa shivered. Na'man was not a man to be crossed, even on his best days. But for this girl to have left with the Oracle, nothing in the world would persuade her to take the place of that poor, damned fool. The two of them spoke and laughed with the merchants and each other. Though it took some time to notice, Yusraa could see that the Oracle was being followed. She couldn't see the faces of the men following her, but they were dark skinned and one of the men had a tattoo of a coyote's face on the bare skin of his back and shoulder. She couldn't help but open her mouth and gasp in surprise, though through the mouth of Cel it was a croak, rising in pitch before being cut off suddenly. Na'man wouldn't be happy to know that Zwendi was with the Oracle.

She was about to return – at least partially – to her body to tell Na'man what she saw, but something else caught her eye. Further back, mixed within the crowd was a group of men. Though they tried not to stand out, they did, though the only reason for it was that the color of their skin and hair was so vastly different from those around them. One man in particular stood taller than the rest with long golden hair. From her months of watching the Oracle when she was in Gondor, she knew exactly who this fair-skinned man was. The Oracle's Rohirric King had come for his lady.

This was a complication. Somehow, the Gondorians and Rohirrim must have figured out the deception she had staged with Cel all those months ago. She flew closer to the Rohir. He followed closely to Zwendi and his warriors with him, but not close enough for Yusraa to be able to decide if he was just stalking them or was allied with them. After watching for minutes she decided to fly to a higher vantage point. No matter whether the Rohirric King was with or against Zwendi, Na'man would have to be informed. She perched in the branch of a tall tree and stared at the Oracle continuing to slowly flit from one stall to another.

She felt part of her consciousness recede from Cel, though she was still connected. The feeling of stretching herself between the raven and her physical body was nauseating. Seeing the world through one eye on the ground and another on a branch made her dizzy, though she pushed the feelings to the side, focusing mainly on her news. Several more men had returned and only two were left to return. Though she made no effort to stand, she cleared her throat, bringing Na'man's attention to her.

"What is it?" The noise of the other men quieted as Na'man spoke.

"The Oracle is with the slave, Hind." From the bird's eye she focused again on the two groups of men following her. "She is not alone. Zwendi and some of his warriors follow a way behind."

"I knew that she was traveling with their camp, but to think that he would follow her around the town himself." Na'man spat on the ground. "He must think himself very clever."

"That is not all." Yusraa continued quietly. "There are northerners following behind Zwendi."

Na'man's eyes narrowed. "What kind of northerners?"

"The barbarians from Rohan." Yusraa felt her head pounding. She needed to either recede or return to her raven soon or she would end up losing the little she had eaten for breakfast that morning. "One of them is their King. The man who the Oracle gave her heart to before I locked away her past."

Na'man stood silent for a long time and Yusraa began to wonder if Na'man had heard her, but before she could repeat herself, Na'man smiled devilishly.

"It seems the gods are on my side, though I always knew I had their favor." His smile widened. "I have a plan."

The trip into the markets had been uneventful. Éomer felt both relieved and a bit dejected. Part of him wanted this Na'man person to show up so things could be ended quickly and he could take Lothíriel back to her home. There he could court her properly and perhaps aid her in remembering who she was and if not, simply win her heart anew. He could tell that though she claimed to not remember him in the least, she felt something for him still, and that gave him hope. It also made him very impatient.

Their group, though still separate, had begun its journey back towards the encampment. After hours with no indication of Na'man arriving, they were no doubt tired and ready to relax around a fire. Éomer wouldn't have said no to the opportunity of sitting near Lothíriel, seeing her face in the glow of firelight as she spoke and laughed with him and the others around her. He was thinking of that when he heard her gasp and the other girl let out a clipped cry. Though there were still several people about, the road had cleared considerably and in the center was a tall man, dressed completely in black. He stood straight, his head was covered by a large hood, hiding his face. As Éomer moved through the crowd easily until he was only a few feet from Zwendi and Lothíriel. As he got closer, the image of the man seemed to become frayed at the edges, as if he was looking at someone through thick glass.

Zwendi and two of his warriors stood in front of Lothíriel, spears pointed forward. As another man stepped forward. This man also wore a hood, though he wasted no time in removing it as he moved past the shadowy man. In the same moment that he removed the hood, the shadowy figure diminished until it was in the shape of a large raven. It cried out and flapped its wings, rising until it could sit on the shoulder of a young woman with long white white hair. Behind her were a few men who carried curved swords and daggers.

"Zwendi Chinnekom, vik lilipa soa kasik posket cun jeklap yesk yol." The man smiled warmly, but it didn't reach his eyes. In them was a deadly malice Éomer had only seen a few times in his life.

"Vol beh eram, Na'man. Kete lilip kishefa woh sekpomaa ut pe kolb rishlowee." Zwendi shifted, his voice cold and hard. As soon as Éomer heard the name, he wasted no time before closing the little distance between himself and Lothíriel. He would be damned if he let anyone near her. He wasted no time before pulling his sword from its hilt, the ring of the steel announcing its owner's intent.

"Vik beh jajak te lilip soa hewena. Vemjak kete, rebor rila ut eks ve yekkor kete pondosa pe ut mesons volal rishlowee pepsar?" Na'man's malice became more clear as his grin grew into a smirk. A muscle on Zwendi's back twitched and he spoke quietly, though the rage in his voice was unmistakable.

"Emast val ishkosheeu lilip yaposta te zesu. Pezzik zeshkesu rov rem emast bessas low ut urn zes." Zwendi stuck his spear into the dirt near him and drew his sword in one hand and a dagger with the other. He stood, coiled, ready to leap forward at a moment's notice.

"Vop ut ovet rem so hekomaa lowim vemjakaa. Nep ut lalom sasseb, yel om lepros vik!" Éomer watched as Zwendi pitched forward, moving as though there was nothing under his feet but air. The two blades met and Na'man swiftly moved around until his back was to Éomer. Almost immediately, one of Na'man's men stepped forward and without warning pushed a spear through the leg of the warrior. Zwendi's leg buckled beneath him as he let out a short, sharp cry of pain. One of Zwendi's warriors cried out as he threw a thin dagger with extraordinary precision. Éomer cried out, enraged even before the knife landed in the man's chest.

"You have no honor!" The snarl was powerful enough to force the crowd back a few steps. Angry at the treachery, each of the Rohirrim drew their swords and stood ready for battle.

Na'man didn't even look at them. Instead he stood over Zwendi, with his arms crossed over his chest. "Kete messason emasta ut rova te kete posras." Zwendi looked up and spit at Na'man, though he moved aside before it could touch even his boots. Still not looking at Éomer, he spoke in clear Westron, "Why would I waste honor on you? I have simply come to retrieve that which belongs to me." He pointed at Lothíriel, finally turning his face from Zwendi. Éomer saw Lothíriel shiver silently and stepped in front of her protectively. As soon as his view of Lothíriel was cut off, his smirk became a sneer and he looked down at Zwendi once again.

"She does not belong to you, or any other person." Éomer's knuckles were white from how tightly he was gripping his sword.

"That shows how much you know, barbarian." Na'man scoffed. "But if you wish to contend against the gods' will, perhaps there should be a duel." He pushed his sword into a scabbard. "Sok vik tekofee ut rolm rem zamzes kete, or kete lilip yeskil wanor te lepros farl, mil cunnan ofkalek ekomu." Na'man's looked as if he were explaining house rules to a child, instead of a chief and warrior.

"Ut rov zaas vol skas!" Zwendi shouted. It was apparent that he was trying to find the strength within himself to stand.

"Om rebor rov ut zesikkor kete? Ut rolm rem zamzes." Éomer could tell that Na'man was beginning to grow tired of the conversation. Zwendi must have felt it too. He looked up and locked eyes with Éomer. There was a fury and desperation that Éomer knew all too well. He had felt it many times in the past several years. He had watched his homeland burn at the hands of Orcs and Dunlendings, and on the Pelennor Field he had fought for the future of all men. He understood and nodded. The relief in Zwendi's eyes was hardly apparent to anyone but those who knew to look.

"Kete rov pekej we chinnek." He stared up at Na'man.

"Bopar rolma kosh pos chinneku kim kete? Ut emast te kokukee woh we zamzes te ve zes. Pels we chinnekom rolm zamzes monem chinnekom." Na'man chuckled.

"Kete emast we jefor bopar beh pos ut jusus." Zwendi pointed at Éomer and smiled coldly at Na'man. "Éomer is chief of a great tribe and has much land in the north. It is enough to satisfy the laws."

Na'man studied Éomer more keenly before his chuckle turned into a full laugh. "You would stake the lives of not only the Oracle, but your entire tribe on a foreigner? You're a bigger fool than I thought. Very well. If this chief is willing to fight me in your place, I will accept the terms."

"The zamzes will take place outside of town, close to the river. It will begin once the sun touches the western sands, it will begin." Zwendi stated calmly.

"Very well," Na'man sighed as though he had just granted the wish of a child. "I suppose the mheydar and mheydor need time to say goodbye." As he turned to walk away he called over his shoulder. "And don't try to run, Oracle. Yusraa will find you if you do, and then you won't have your protectors any longer."

Translations:

Zwendi Chinnekom, vik lilipa soa kasik posket cun jeklap yesk yol. - Zwendi Chief, it has been too long since we last saw each other.

Vol beh eram, Na'man. Kete lilip kishefa woh sekpomaa ut pe kolb rishlowee. - This it true, Na'man. I have dreamed of meeting you for many years.

Vik beh jajak te lilip soa hewena. Vemjak kete, rebor rila ut eks ve yekkor kete pondosa pe ut mesons volal rishlowee pepsar? - It is good to have been missed. Tell me, how did you like the gift I left for you all those years ago?

Emast val ishkosheeu lilip yaposta te zesu. Pezzik zeshkesu rov rem emast bessas low ut urn zes. - Know that your actions have led to your death. Even your soul will not know peace when you are dead.

Vop ut ovet rem so hekomaa lowim vemjakaa. Nep ut lalom sasseb, yel om lepros vik! - Then you should not be wasting your time talking. If you want revenge, tray and take it!

Kete messason emasta ut rova te kete posras. - I always knew you would kneel to me someday.

Sok vik tekofee ut rolm rem zamzes kete, or kete lilip yeskil wanor te lepros farl, mil cunnan ofkalek ekomu. - But it seems you cannot duel me, so I have every right to take her, along with your pitiful tribe.

Ut rov zaas vol skas! - You will die this night!

Om rebor rov ut zesikkor kete? Ut rolm rem zamzes. - And how will you kill me? You cannot fight.

Kete rov pekej we chinnek. - I will name a champion.

Bopar rolma kosh pos chinneku kim kete? Ut emast te kokukee woh we zamzes te ve zes. Pels we chinnekom rolm zamzes monem chinnekom. - Who could act as your champion against me? You know the laws of a duel to the death. Only a chief can fight another chief.

Kete emast we jefor bopar beh pos ut jusus. - I know a man who is as you say.

Zamzes - fight/duel

Mheydar/Mheydor - Moon-blood (Female/Male)