The Return of a Friendly Enemy

The weapon room was enormous. Despite everything being gigantic here in Far-Flunga, Harlette still managed to be surprised.

Harlette was so lost in her admiration of the immensity of it all, her ears did not catch the sound of the heavy door closing behind her.

She was allowed on her own to choose a weapon. Swords, lances, shields, whips, hammers, axes and all sorts of lethal objects hung idly on grey brick walls erecting high around her. Much to Harlette's dismay, the arms were impossible to handle or even reach; they were too high above her heard, and, golly, they were too big and too heavy; they were meant to be wielded by giants and not by the minute likes of her.

She was at loss. Her legs began to tremble, and somehow, she started to weep silently. So foolish had she been when trying to appear brave before Thranduil. Because of her selfish childishness, she was going to die and so was he.

Harlette tightened her fists and let out a gush of anger. She slapped her palms on her forehead, chiding herself vehemently for everything, even for being born.

A sound reached her ears. 'My, my, my. What's all the fuss about?'

Harlette jerked around. Her teary eyes descried black smoke swaying against the darkness of a nook till it morphed into a silhouette, a silhouette bereft of any distinguishing feature, safe for large red and smiling lips exposing a range of sharp white and perfect teeth. It was the Shadow, that very same who had visited her in Mirkwood a few days ago. The memories of it brought that of the drowning horse and the monster in the lake. Harlette reared till her back was against the wall.

'Relax, hun. I'm just here to help,' the misty visitor affirmed casually.

'Help? Help, my ass!' Harlette grunted, and the Shadow cringed at her inelegant choice of words. 'You made me look a fool in front of Thranduil. Think I'd forget that event so easily? He thought I was insane!'

'Ah, again with that elf, eh,' the Shadow grinned knowingly. Harlette said naught. 'It's not my fault if he didn't believe you….' The Shadow trailed off as Harlette stood cross-armed, her mood far from gentle.

'Why did you do this? You tried to kill me,' affirmed Harlette bitterly.

'No, no. Stop being so dramatic,' it disclaimed. 'I was just having a little fun with you. That's all. After all, you did not die, now did you?'

'Because he saved me!' Harlette broke out.

The Shadow sniggered. 'Oh, you could have swum back up yourself. You just wanted to be held in his strong, elven arms, admit it! That wicked king knows exactly how to charm a lady…and he knows all ladies are crazy about him.'

Harlette glowered. 'Get out of here. I don't want to talk or listen to you.'

Out of ways to soothe the annoyed maiden, the Shadow started to sing: 'I never meant to cause you any sorrow, I never meant to cause you any pain−'

'Don't even start. I love Prince's Purple Rain, but this is not the time. Go away!' Harlette growled and turned away from her visitor.

'How are you going to handle the task that was appointed to you?' The Shadow questioned leisurely, studying a pacing Harlette. The latter only shrugged dismissively.

Silence. The Shadow would not disappear.

'Why are you here? What do you want?' Harlette emitted irately.

'The reason why I'm here solely concerns me,' replied the Shadow.

Harlette raised a sarcastic brow. 'I'm glad to hear that at least you are honest.'

'You will need my help,' the Shadow warned. Harlette ignored it and kept on pacing to and fro, rummaging her brain for an idea that would salvage her from this tricky situation.

The Shadow pouted like a disheartened child. 'Don't you like me?'

At those words, Harlette haw-hawed. 'Of course I don't!'

'Shame, shame,' muttered the Shadow, floating around her. 'I could help you win the challenge,' it unraveled, 'and impress Thranduil on that same occasion.'

Harlette's heart flipped at those last words, nevertheless, her reason resurfaced: 'I don't want any help from you. You'll just send me to my doom.'

'Why should I bother, sistah? Aren't you going there already?'

Harlette readied to respond, yet faltered. Indeed, she was going to die.

'Seriously, Harlette. How you are going to face that ghoul? Do you have a plan?'

The romantic novelist was quiet.

'I guess not,' said the Shadow smilingly. 'You will perish if you don't listen to me. You are being sent to the lair of a giant bloodthirsty spirit. No weapon can kill it.'

'I feel much better already,' Harlette informed sarcastically, her hands on her hips.

'But you can survive it.'

Harlette took a deep draught of air. Should she listen to what that stranger had to say? She watched the Shadow intently before stepping closer to it, her head tilted to the side distrustfully. 'How?'

'By not looking at it,' The Shadow replied simply.

'What do you mean?'

'Well, it is more complicated than it sounds,' the Shadow warned. 'The Respicer is a ghost. Most ghosts are harmless; all they can really do is try to frighten you. So unless you have a weak heart condition, they won't be able to do any real physical damage. But the Respicer is different for it comes with a spell. If someone looks at it, it becomes absolutely real and tangible, and thus a very dangerous and lethal enemy. If you are in it dark lair and you look at it, there is no chance of escaping the Respicer.'

'Why does looking at it make it tangible?'

'It's the spell. That's how the Respicer works. Why is it you look so sexy? That's just how you are,' the Shadow grinned widely.

Harlette's eyes fluttered and she tittered: 'You think I'm sexy?'

'Yes, I do.'

Harlette flushed, shifted on her feet and placed a loop of hair behind her ear girlishly. 'Do you think Thranduil thinks I'm sexy?'

'We're getting carried away from the point,' the Shadow commented hastily. 'We've got no time. The guards will come to fetch you any minute now!'

Harlette nodded and invited the Shadow to carry on, and that's what it did: 'Let me recap what I've just told you: The Respicer is a ghost that cannot touch you unless you look upon it; if that happens the Respicer will become tangible and kill you. You got that?'

'Yeah, yeah. But if the only thing you need to do in order to survive it, is to not look at it, why is it considered to be so lethal, ey? I could just get a blindfold...ha, now there's a good idea!'

'Blindfolds don't work. Others have tried, but the call of the Respicer is so strong they themselves tear the blindfold off to look at it. It's impossible to resist the call of the Respicer. Well...' the Shadow sniggered, '…almost impossible.'

Harlette's eyes fluttered in attention. 'How can I resist the call of the Respicer?'

'What do you do when you want to stop thinking about a man you like?'

Harlette stood motionless for a second. The Shadow waited.

Silence.

'You…do something else?' Harlette offered.

'Exactly!'

'I don't follow,' Harlette confessed, her expression being that of pure bamboozlement.

The Shadow's ripe red lips pushed into an even wider grin: 'When you want to avoid doing something, you do something else: you busy yourself with something else.'

Harlette nodded slowly, trying to process the information. 'Can't you just give me a super sharp sword so I can kill it?'

'It's a ghost! Weapons will be of no use.'

'Oh yeah, true,' Harlette acknowledged. 'Do the giants know that?'

Silence.

The Shadow snorted in a manner which was to be disparaging. 'Giants aren't exactly very bright. They grew up too fast, and the brains didn't follow.'

Harlette accepted that bit of information and crossed her arms over her chest. 'How do I keep busy?'

'A-ha! By doing what you do best, honey!'

Before Harlette could reply, a notebook and a pen appeared on the floor before her feet. Harlette stooped down and collected the items. 'Write?'

The shadow nodded approvingly. 'No matter what happens, keep on writing. Write about love, write about Thranduil, about cats, whatever. Just carry on writing, and as soon as you see the first rays of sun, run as quick as you can, out the church to find Thranduil.'

'Why as quick as I can?'

'Because Thranduil will die if you don't reach him in time.'

'Why?'

'I won't tell you more. I think I've helped you enough,' it said with a simper.

The Shadow began to fade.

'Wait! Are you sure I can just survive by writing? What if the ghost grabs me?'

'It won't if you keep doing what you do best, and never, ever look at him. Go there, sit down and write.'

Upon those words, the misty visitor disappeared.

Silence.

The sound of the door opening startled her. Light poured in the cell she was in. The guards who were but enormous silhouettes against the brightness invited her outside, and warily looking up at them, Harlette did as told.

At the threshold, there stood Bernard and Goldie. Thranduil was not present; undoubtedly he had been taken away to whatever fate was to be his.

Goldie's globular orbs landed on the notebook and pen in Harlette's hand. 'What in the world is that for a weapon?!'

'I know what I'm doing.'

'Like hell you do!' Goldie let out, her wings beating at her sides. 'Bernard, you can kiss her arse goodbye, cos she's gonna die!'

Through sapphire eyes, the cat studied her master intently. 'Tell me you've got a plan, Harlette.'

Slowly, the master kneeled before the cat. The two watched each other in silence. Goldie studied them and she puffed angrily.

Bernard jumped into Harlette's arms. 'I trust you Harlette. So please, come back quickly.'

Cradling the white beast in her arms as if it was the last time, Harlette said nothing and only nodded.

::::::

Yep! The Shadow is back. Well, it never actually left. Soon things will clarify. The Shadow cannot harm Harlette, cos remember, it is an adviser, however, it can influence her choices and decisions.

I hope you enjoyed it! :p