CHAPTER 41 - New horizons

The nightmares returned. But now other memories found their way between black adamant walls and pyres for eyes, hailing new shadows and feeding withering remorse. There was a rush of foaming water that doused the flames, and hands gentle and caring soothed her burning skin. Salt was in her hair. Salt was on his lips as he pressed them to her forehead, her mouth, the hollow of her neck.

Kal awoke curled on her side, aching, thinking she heard his voice so vividly she even rose suddenly and looked about herself. In a way, she wished she could turn her head and find him there, as elusive as ever was his wont. All those times she would start at his sudden appearance, descended from the hidden boughs of a tree or the shadows of the wood. Kal slumped forward, pressing her knuckles into her eyes, shedding the slumber from them.

She felt the same tug yet again, meandering towards her as though carried by the sea-winds. It was your choice. No use floundering. She turned her head, and saw the wolf watching her in silence sat on his hind legs. He had fallen asleep at her side. Kal reached and stroked his fur, his ears, and eventually threw her arms around Eron, her face buried in warm fur. "I am sorry, I am sorry," she croaked, her chest jolting once before she ordered herself to stillness, "It had to be done."

The wolf nudged the side of her neck with his nose rather insistently, and then Kal sensed a tension in him. She sharpened her hearing, rising slowly from her place. Her hand came flat upon the ground, and the disturbance materialized into the pacing of heavy footfalls. She rose to stand and urged the wolf follow, hiding in a dark thicket as the sound grew nearer. It was not long before voices were heard, and her unease increased. Kal then noticed she had stopped to rest not far from a dirt road of sorts, beaten with the traffic of wheels, the sounds of which could be heard now drawing nearer.

Her covert position allowed for an unobstructed view of the road, and soon a smell she loathed reached her, accompanied by sharp shrieks and low grumbling. She saw Men and Uruk-hai. She saw wagons carrying goods, both animate and inanimate. There were beasts of burden pulling the carts forward.

"Move, you bumbling fool," one of the men whipped at the beasts, before turning to another with an exasperated hiss. "At this pace, it'll be nighttime when we reach sodding Pelargir," he complained.

Pelargir. As she watched them pass, Kal remembered what Legolas had told her of the once-great city of the realm of Gondor, where the royal fleet was housed. How it had been built by great Men of old, and in time was become a safe place for ones escaping the drowning of their old realm into the sea. It was a large harbor settlement, and Kal had seen the great black ships with her own eyes when she first came this way with Legolas.

The thought of him brought it all crashing into her again, and her wounded hands stung with renewed fervor. Now that her initial fright lessened and a night had passed, Kal found she could allot some thought to what had actually happened that night. The shard and its light, the vision of beauty in his white garb and simple cloth.

I am you.

Kal shuddered, rising from her spot when the road became silent again. Dust swirled in the wake of men and beasts treading over it. Deeper into the forest she went, keeping the road within sight and setting her focus on finding the herb needed to aid with her burns. She recalled the words of the elf Arwen during one of their meetings. She had called the plant athelas, and had shown its like to Kal. She crossed the road and went closer to the great river, continuing her search.

After hours her endeavor was yet fruitless, and the pain in her palms a discomfort Kal was slowly but surely resigning herself to. Again, thoughts emerged of how the Shadow had taken her thought and will, as did its command. From what Kal could discern now by the way it had scoured her thoughts and mind, it apparently coveted the burning shard of light. Kal dared not think of what He knew of her now, nor of how He had led her to the very place of his interest. Perhaps, He sensed its whereabouts, but knew not its exact location?

Nor will you, Kal thought grimly and with finality. Whatever the Shadow needed, it would have no way of finding it through her any longer. She would ensure it. She would pass through to the farthest, iciest corners of Middle-earth if she must, far away from anything of interest for His scheming. If indeed it had been Him, though the imagery and familiar aura of power had been unmistakable. It was the same kind shrouding the Tower, the one she and others bore during their tenure behind its gates. The unconfirmed conclusion and black certainty of it also held a deeper misery, again reminding her why a life in Tolfalas would never have been possible. Why they would never have been possible.

Kal stopped, her eyes sighting a leaf of familiar shape and coloring. She crouched down near the wolf who had reached her in the meantime, and with the use of her stiff fingers took of the sought-for remedy, taking care not to squeeze too much as she had need of its thick sap. She then crossed over to the river and dipped her hands in cold water to wash them for lack of other options. Her thoughts returned and cleaved towards the recent events.

What was that piece of clear, hard stone trapping fire and light? Its power was surely great, for it to be so hidden and sought for. Its shape as she recalled had been even, as though crafted from the hands of one skilled in such. And then, an odd memory struck her. Legolas had said to her once, that the isle was protected by more than the caution of its inhabitants. His own reaction and distress when he had seen her with the stone in hand now came in a different light. And his words.

Do you realize what you could have done?

Of course, at the time, her main struggle and power had been bent on leaving and her hasty deflection of him, and so there was little left to dwell on the facets of it.

But his eyes had seen straight through her, poorly knit lies and all. She had felt him, with his disappointment and his longing, and all that angry confusion. But he did as she wished in the end, and she should be thankful for it. Would he hate her now, as he had before? It mattered not either way, though the possibility chilled her to the bone. At least, Kal thought, she would never again have to look into his face, and see what she had seen that night.

Yes, it would have to be someplace far, far away. Kal rummaged through her satchel and retrieved a cloth, ripping it into pieces. She spread the sap from the athelas leaves over her palms and wrapped her hands over with the cloth, wincing from discomfort. She looked ahead, beyond the river, and sighed.

The eye, the pain, and that smile. It still iced her to the core, and would not fade from her mind, and Kal thought fretfully ahead to the coming night. In more recent times, when he was there, his light had aided in dispelling the nether and her nights had been more restful.

Gone now. Cease your sniveling. She battled her thoughts all through the rest of the day as she walked, stopping for nothing, eating nothing.

When evening fell Kal looked to the river again and saw the first ships moored at different points along the bank. As she went nearer, they grew in number and size. Drawing closer as led by her rising interest Kal observed a bridge she had not seen before, strung across the murky waters and leading to the opposite bank. She saw the grey towers and blackened buildings of the harbor settlement Pelargir, which she and the elf had previously passed on their way to the isle.

More vessels danced languidly on grim waters, in strange congruence with her thoughts.

To the farthest corners of Middle-earth... How else to achieve such a goal, if not by traveling on water? The world was wide and large enough, and surely there were lands she could flee to, well away from this place. But she had no coin, meaning a great disadvantage as cities of the fallen empires yet were ruled by Men, vassals of the Dark One who thrived on it. Her knowledge of Black Speech would aid in mingling with them, she hoped, and perhaps if luck would have it, she could obtain a place on one of the vessels as a worker. There was nothing left but to try. Her mind made, Kal urged the wolf to follow and departed the vicinity of the river in favor of the road leading to the city.

When she reached the great stone and metal bridge, Kal found it surprisingly empty, considering the size of the settlement and its dealings. Like any port city, Pelargir had been bustling with activity about its harbors from what she had witnessed before.

Kal crossed the bridge and onto a stone cobbled road, and soon the fringes of the settlement greeted her. There were stone houses and many narrow streets, dirtied and reeking of human waste. The walls of the crooked buildings were all streaked with reddish-yellow stains of rusty rain. Kal saw Men, dark-skinned and wearing black flowing garments, coiled helms adorning their heads. Others were pale-skinned with their eyes heavily painted in black, and garbed similarly, carrying strange wide blades with curved tips. She saw Easterlings, with their black and blue-tinted war tattoos. There was an Uruk here or there, but Kal saw no orcs though that was to be expected, as those needed the cover of darkness to roam. Kal buried her fingers into the fur of her wolf. "Be on your guard, keep your distance," she spoke, though more to herself. Many of the inhabitants went on their hurried way, and Kal saw a patrol as well. The same ones used in Mordor, their black armor and crimson capes trailing about them.

She sought the harbor area but knew not where to go. Warily taking a more hidden path and avoiding the patrol Kal entered the city proper, hoping to find her way to the ships in an attempt to fulfill her plan. Evening had descended by the time she reached a dirtied, crumbling square, and heard hissed ramblings and indistinct voices. They were harsh and male, and Kal heard multiple steps drawing nigh. Wariness again took hold as she began looking for a sheltered place of refuge, but there was only stone and metal, and no darkened spaces to fit both her and Eron. Her still aching hand gripped the hilt of her sword, just as the voices drew close enough that she could see what was attached to them.

There were six of them, all heading her way. Their dark eyes were glazed and hungry, their long dark hair painted in blues and braided intricately with varying types of bones. They wore the garb of mercenaries, and the flaming eye was etched into their mangled left cheek. Men of the Tower, all of them. Their steps were faltering strangely, and Kal could sense the thick, pungent smell of alcohol about them. It reminded her of the reek of the Alchemists' lair, having been an integral ingredient for their concoctions.

"Look, boys, a lost un'," one of them spotted Kal, who began pacing backward and away. "What's a lone young thing like you doin' here in our fair city, looking so bewildered, ey? Mayhaps we might be of help?" his eyes were narrowed.

The obvious malicious intent made her swallow, and she heard Eron begin to growl beside her. "Stand down," she hissed to the wolf. Then, Kal mustered all her courage and spoke in Black Speech, hoping it would deter them. "I have no dealings with you. Be off and leave me be," she said even as the others were nearing her, all smiles and toothed predatory stares.

The one who spoke first went quiet, but not for long. He looked upon her with a near fatherly mien. "No need to be snide," he retorted swiftly with false kindness, also in Black Speech. "As for the nature of dealings... I am sure both my men and I can provide a few suggestions," his smile became foul, "whether you think it or not." He motioned to two others who drew their curved blades.

Kal brandished her own weapon then, cursing her lack of precaution. Her time on the isle had made her weaker indeed if her sense of peril was now so numbed that she had not sensed this threat sooner.

Eron was now growling and baring his teeth, coiled at her side, and ready to pounce. They surrounded her, and her mind desperately considered the best way to cut her way through them. Coming here had not been the wisest of decisions, not at all. But there was nothing to do against it now.

Grinning, their leader ran towards her, his blade drawn. It fell upon hers with a deafening hiss but Kal repelled him, gritting her teeth at the pain in her hands.

Another blade swung behind her and she ducked in time, turning and employing her full strength in throwing herself at her opponent. They both fell to the ground and rising Kal slit one's throat, whirling to meet another blade. They were angered now, and as she fought against two blades Kal saw the wolf making a bloody mess of another foe, fallen somewhere to her right.

"Kill the damned beast!" their leader hissed.

"You will not touch my wolf, filth!" Kal growled lowly as she repelled another attack, then another, until a blow to the back of her head caused her to fall to one knee, dazed. Her grip weakened on her sword, and she felt a cold narrow blade sing at her throat. Someone had gripped her hair, and Kal was soon thrown with her face into the dust, a boot pressing harshly into her back. Her hair was in an unrelenting grip, pulled back so hard her eyes watered. A panting voice was in her ear. "Now, you will pay in kind for the companions you and yer stinking beast maimed-"

He did not finish his thought, and Kal felt the grip on her head lessening. She wasted no time freeing herself at the opportunity and turning saw her attacker on his knees, clutching at his neck to no avail. There was a black rope of sorts coiled around it, and before her eyes there was a sharp pull. His neck snapped, and the human fell forward limp and lifeless.

"Now, does anyone else think they need the treatment?" a new, hard voice began.

Kal blinked to see the coiling rope was actually a whip and said whip was attached to a living person. He wore black leathers and a dusty cloak and deftly coiled his unusual weapon back at his hip. Kal saw an eye patch adorning the left side of his face.

The ones who were yet alive blundered over each other to be out of his sight, mouthing curses and eyeing Kal with hateful looks.

Eron had returned to her side, his maw dripping bloody red. His eyes were still narrowed and his snarling never ceased. Kal attempted to calm him while regarding the stranger with confused suspicion. Alone as they now were, he was looking her way across from two dead bodies.

"Well met, stranger. Though, I see you have had a welcoming taste of Pelargir already," he motioned to the fallen humans and smiled.

Kal still gripped her sword, and nothing could appease Eron, it seemed. "I only wish to be left alone," she offered in Westron, looking about herself.

The stranger crossed his arms, tilting his head to one side. To Kal, he appeared not unlike the vultures she had seen circling the fields of Núrn in the early days of her youth. They would wait and come down to feast upon any unfortunates beaten to death during their rounds. His hair was dark and tumbling over his shoulders, and he was young for a human, lest her eyes deceived her. "Your wish I can freely grant, but," he made a gesture towards the fallen men, "I doubt the wisdom of it, as I am sure you do. Or should, in any case." His face was terse now, gaining a solemn air.

"None of your business," Kal returned, though she had to admit it rang true. And he did aid her. "Why did you intervene?"

The dark-haired stranger made an impatient sound with his tongue. "Because you needed it?" he said, as though looking upon one who was soft in the head. "Now, I do not know about you, dear traveler, but I, for one, am both weary and famished," he drawled. "I was heading to the inn around the corner for a meal," he eyed her. Then as a second thought, he added, "Unless... that is, unless you prefer to spend your night avoiding brigands, you are most welcome to join."

Kal gnashed her teeth, still struggling to temper the wolf. Its behavior was strange, to say the least, now that danger had passed. And again, she was at a standstill. She knew no one here, and this one appeared to belong here well enough, though that fact rather unsettled her. His face showed no hidden crevices of foulness, but one could never be sure. His unsought for kindness also added to her brimming suspicion. As such, his opportune aid was the sole argument in favor of her following decision, but it proved a strong one. And she was hungry, she was tired. "Are you always so kind to mere strangers? What if I hurt you, and steal your wares?"

His shoulders shook with laughter, making him appear younger than his years. "Oh, I believe you have seen I can hold my own well enough. And worry not, I am well aware of your growling pet, and have seen some of your skill. Now, my offer only stands this one time, for I am getting rather hungry." He added with a smile Kal found unnerving.

She hesitated, but in the end, approached the stranger.

He appeared somewhat pleased by this direction and development, and Kal again thought of the vultures. "Ah, wonderful. Now that we are agreed, may I inquire as to your name?" the black-haired stranger asked as they fell in step together.

His manner of speech was unusual, but Kal settled for adding it to the long list of things she did not know of the outside world and its peoples. Eron was yet struggling and growling, and she had to fall to her knees and firmly grasp his head, looking him in the eye. "Enough. It is over. Please." And she attempted to use her thought in reaching him, just as Legolas had shown her once. She brought her head to his and soon enough the wolf went quiet, reduced to a low incessant mewl. Kal rose then and met the gaze of the human who had been watching her. "I am Kal."

A bright smile made its way onto his even features, the corners of his foreign black eye crinkling slightly. Kal saw his skin was an interesting shade of burnt amber. "A pleasure to meet you, young Kal. My name, is Castamir."

A/N:

Whew, it took me some time to get this in order amid recent real-life priorities and happenings.

The Men referred to in this chapter as founders of Pelargir were the Númenóreans.

Remember the man with the eye patch from some time ago?