Chapter Six
The Light of Day
The fall of Cordoba came short before dawn.
The number of men and elves from the west who had fallen during the battle was slight but Aragorn was more than distressed to learn that Eomer had been injured badly during the fighting. The king of Gondor could not imagine the Rohirrim king being bested by anyone in battle but supposed skill was not an absolute in determining who would survive and who did not. He himself had been injured during the course of the fighting and Aragorn was rather grateful he had come away from it with a wound that allowed him to stay in the battle.
Unfortunately, he had could not say the same for many of the Cordobans who had engaged them in the conflict. Walking through the fortress, or rather limping through it, Aragorn directed both men and elves to secure the city. As he saw the gathered bodies of the dead, lying on the streets in the aftermath of the battle, he flinched when he saw a good portion of them were children and knew that this was no clean victory. Most appeared no older than fifteen and had been recruited to fight in the defense of their city by Satarin who had wanted to show the enemy that Cordoba was not weak. Clad in their armor and carrying weapons in the dark made it difficult to discern their ages until the killing was done and now in the light of day, Aragorn could see many of his warriors were clearly disturbed by the opponents they were forced to kill.
Indeed, the city was decidedly lacking in the charge of excitement that came from a well-deserved victory. Nothing about this engagement had come about in accordance with the rules of warfare. The elves had violated the temporary truce that would allow women and children safe passage from the city and their attack had proved to all Haradrim that not even the word of the Gondorian king could be trusted. It soured the blood inside of Aragorn remembering that. He had known the situation between himself and Legolas were coming to a head. Their diametrically opposing views of how this war should be fought had set them on a collision course from the first but he had hoped that their friendship might avert that eventuality.
Now Legolas had given him no choice but to act. The flouting of his authority before his men was an insult that kings would not tolerate, even from their friends and Legolas had done more than flouted Aragorn's authority. He had made Aragorn break his word and that was a slight that could not be forgiven, not from a king and more importantly, from a friend. If this was how Legolas intended to conduct the war, with unexpected attacks and broken promises, then Aragorn wanted no part of it. He would order Legolas to either relinquish command to Haldir or Gondor would withdraw.
In any case, this ugly situation in Cordoba would not be repeated.
In the light of day, the city seemed much smaller from the inside than it did when one was poised at the foot of its high walls. While a good portion of the fortress appeared dedicated to military pursuits, Cordoba was largely a trading center for the communities in the Barrens to conduct their commercial ventures. He could see shops surrounding empty squares; houses of mud brick flanking sandstone streets with an extensive system of pipes to drain the arm of Sanara that gave Cordoba its life. Aragorn had also put a stop to the damming of the river since it was now a moot point. He could imagine the aromatic spices that filled the air from the cuisine at the local eateries, the acrid stench of animals in their pens, the scent of exotic spices and musky leather that was traded in the bazaars.
Despite how untrustworthy Legolas had made him seem Aragorn was determined to convince the people of Cordoba that their way of life was not under threat. It was not Gondor's plan to occupy the country even though it was an inevitability he may have to accept. However, when that became the only course left to him, Aragorn was determined that they would act with more humanity than their enemy.
Still, he had to confess that he was rather surprised that Legolas had pre-empted him by issuing the order that civilians would not be harmed whether or not they were men, women or children. Also, the Prince had not resorted to using flame to raze the city, which indicated that Legolas had at least tried to follow Aragorn's wishes to a degree. Even now, he could see the elves conducting themselves properly as they worked alongside of Gondor and Rohan's soldiers to secure Cordoba. While Aragorn was no less furious at Legolas for this attack, he was glad to know that there were some traces of honor left within the Lord of Eden Ardhon.
Aragorn's attention soon rested on a group of his soldiers led by Beregond, studying a herd of droma in their pens. The beasts fascinated the soldiers and Beregond's efforts to harness one were a losing battle as the creature in question eyed him with a mixture of challenge and warning. The king stifle a smile at Beregond's cry of outrage when the thing promptly spat at him and his dignity suffered a severe blow when his companions burst into riotous laughter.
"What are you attempting to do Beregond?" Aragorn asked.
"Sire," Beregond greeted and wiped the spittle from his cheek before offering Aragorn a slight bow of acknowledgement, a gesture repeated by his companions who had suddenly become very composed in the presence of the king. "These creatures are apparently very suited for desert travel," the former guard of Denethor's house explained. "Their keeper speaks a little Westron and he has told me that they are able to carry reasonable loads across the desert without needing food or water for a week if they have been sufficiently fed before. It would take the burden of some of our horses if we could use these creatures."
"That is a fine idea," Aragorn agreed, impressed with Beregond's reasoning. It explained greatly why Faramir had so much faith in the Captain of Ithilien. "However, we will buy the animals from their master. I realise we are an occupying army but we will not behave like thugs by taking what we want," Aragorn swept his gaze over all present so that they would understand that this was not an idle request and he expected the Cordobans to be treated fairly. "Offer him the going rate and have him teach you how to handle these beasts. It will not do to have the Captain of Ithilien covered with spit."
Aragorn sniggered and his laughter, prompted Beregond's companions to display their own amusement, much to the captain's chagrin.
"Sire, you should be taking the weight off your leg," Beregond pointed out once everyone had amused themselves sufficiently at his expense.
"I will in due course, I wanted to ensure that the city is properly secured and everyone has their orders. With King Eomer in the care of surgeons with Lord Imrahil at his side and I have yet to see Lord Legolas, I thought it only prudent."
"Perhaps Haldir would know where he is," Beregond suggested.
"I am certain that wherever he is, I shall find him soon enough," Aragorn replied, deciding that Beregond's idea of taking the weight of his leg was sound advice for the injury was beginning to catch up with him. Taking his leave of his men, Aragorn made his way towards the entrance of the city. Most of Cordoba's residents were remaining indoors but some had started to emerge out of curiosity or realization that the massacres at Axinar and the other Haradrim communities were not going to be repeated.
Aragorn had not advanced far along his journey when suddenly he saw Haldir appear. Haldir's expression was grave indeed and Aragorn felt his heart tighten in his chest at the possibility of some terrible news. The elf's face brightened a little at seeing him, which threw Aragorn's expectation of his news slightly off balance. Haldir strode to Aragorn purposefully as if the elf had searching for him since Haldir appeared very single minded in his approach. Was Legolas injured? Aragorn asked himself. He did not think the elf was killed because Haldir would be in a far worse emotional state if that were the case. Still, Aragorn did not like imagining Legolas dead no matter how angry he was at the elf.
"Elfstone," Haldir said with clear relief. "I am glad I have found you."
"What is it?" Aragorn demanded as he noted Haldir's hand on his arm gently urging him to follow. "Is Legolas hurt?"
"You must come with me," Haldir said abruptly, his manner filled with anxiety.
"Haldir, you will answer me," Aragorn repeated himself but followed nonetheless, "is he hurt?"
"He has not been harmed," Haldir answered after a moment but felt the words sour in his mouth because he had not told the absolute truth to the Elfstone.
Aragorn knew when an elf was lying to him but did not question Haldir any further because it was apparent that Haldir wanted to show him rather than tell him what was the matter. Haldir's manner was one of concern and yet there was a shadow over his eyes that Aragorn could not explain, that chilled him to the bone because it seemed as if something had shaken Haldir to the core. As elves went, Haldir was perhaps one of the most self-assured he had ever met, bordering on arrogance at times. There was very little Aragorn could imagine that could cause the elf's jaw to drop open in astonishment since Haldir always appeared capable of taking everything in stride.
Until now.
Haldir led him through a series of narrow streets that emptied into a small square surrounded by homes. There were bodies littering the path to the square and Aragorn made a mental note to instruct the soldiers to retrieve them for burial when he and Haldir were done. The civilian casualties had been light owing to Aragorn's and Legolas' specific orders to ensure it and while there were unfortunate incidents, for most part they had succeeded in keeping the number of innocents killed in the battle to a minimum. However, upon entering the square, Aragorn stopped short and understood the reason for Haldir's anxiety.
Kneeling on the ground in a pool of drying blood next to the dead body of Eden Ardhon's captain, Nunaur, was Legolas Greenleaf.
His sword rested besid him and blood had soaked through his breeches and his boots. He was kneeling back on his legs, his eyes staring into something only he could see. His expression was one of such despair that it drove the anger from Aragorn without the king being the slightest bit aware of it. Gone was the enigmatic mask of aloofness that kept his emotions hidden. There was no trace of concealment or elven dignity, just that soul crushing despair that drew all light to it like ravenous Ungoliant. Aragorn could well understand why Haldir had sought him out.
Legolas had never been so exposed or vulnerable.
"Go," Aragorn said simply, his eyes fixed on the prince.
"What?" Haldir looked at him.
"NOW!" Aragorn shouted and made the elf jump, startled.
Haldir wanted to protest but instead chose to nod quickly and depart.
Aragorn approached Legolas slowly and wondered how long he had been here. Probably since Nunaur had died, Aragorn decided almost immediately after the question had crossed his mind. The elf did not react to his approach but Aragorn was certain Legolas knew he was there. One did not sneak up on an elf. It simply did not happen. He reached Legolas and lowered himself to the ground, beyond the reach of blood but close enough to be able to smell what heat and exposure was doing to the body. Nunaur needed taking away to be afforded a proper burial.
"Legolas," Aragorn reached for him.
"Leave me be," Legolas said quietly before Aragorn's fingers could
reach his shoulder.
"No," Aragorn said determinedly, "I will not leave you like this."
"I did not ask for your company," Legolas shifted his eyes briefly to Aragorn. "I want to be left alone."
"So you can let yourself be eaten away by more guilt?" Aragorn accused.
"I know my sins," Legolas replied, his voice soft and defeated. "You need not point them out to me."
"You know your sins," Aragorn agreed but he was not about to let Legolas' ambivalence deter him. His friend was in pain and despite everything that had happened between them, Aragorn could not walk away when Legolas so clearly needed help. "But do you know how to live with them? We all make wrong choices Legolas, we go right when we should go left and there are consequences that come with each of those choices we cannot change. Nunaur's death is not one of those consequences. I grieve his death for I know what he meant to you but we were midst of battle where the risk of death is always a possibility."
"He was not killed by a soldier," Legolas replied without looking at Aragorn, "he was killed by a woman."
"A woman?" Aragorn wrinkled his brow in confusion.
"He was killed by a woman. She was so terrified that she and her child were going to be murdered by elves that she impaled him upon her sword through the back, even though we did nothing to provoke it," he hissed through a clenched jaw and Aragorn saw just how close he was to breaking.
"I am sorry Legolas," Aragorn said gently, seeing the unimaginable pain in Legolas' eyes and feeling all of his anger evaporate in the face of that terrible anguish.
"She did not kill him," Legolas replied listlessly, his brow furrowing above eyes misting over with emotion, "I did."
"Legolas…" He started to say when Legolas cut him off abruptly.
"She was terrified that we would harm her and her child so she struck out first," Legolas explained, the word escaping him like spittle of venom. "She killed Nunaur because she thought she would be murdered as the people of Axinar, Laxor, Brecat and Turazon were murdered. She killed because I drove her to kill."
Aragorn did not know what to say and realized that there was nothing he could
say that would make this any easier to bear, because it was the truth. Legolas
was correct. The woman was driven to defend her child because she believed the
elves would kill them both.
"I have become a monster Aragorn," Legolas continued to speak, not waiting for the king of Gondor to respond. "I have become a monster, no better than Sauron or Saruman. I have allowed the darkness into my heart and it has grown a home inside of me, malignant with malice. You tried to tell me but I would not listen. I allowed the hate to sweep me away and now it has destroyed me as surely as I destroyed Nunaur's life. I do not know who I am any more, I have destroyed myself."
"No you have not," Aragorn was finally forced into speaking at the hearing of that statement. "You are not destroyed, you have just lost your way. You are Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, Prince of Mirkwood and Lord of Ithilien but more then that, you are a member of the Fellowship and my friend. I know what drove you and I will not exonerate your sins because that is not within my power but I can tell you that I still see my friend before me. I told you once that you were driven by pain, that it was a wound that screamed out to everyone who saw you."
"It is no excuse," Legolas shook his head, refusing to believe it. "When that woman killed Nunaur, I was ready to kill her and her child. I took a sword to her Aragorn and I struck her child! That is an act not worthy of an elf!"
"Did you kill her?" Aragorn was almost afraid to ask.
"No," Legolas answered in almost a gasp of horror. "I could not do it. When I struck that child, I realised I was no better than the animals who murdered Anna in front of Melia. I had become my enemy Aragorn. I saw her weeping and I knew that I had turned myself into a monster because of my hate."
Aragorn did not show Legolas the relief flooding through him at the elf's admission but he did feel it nonetheless. "A monster would have killed them Legolas," Aragorn pointed out, "a monster would not have cared less that he had struck a child or had taken a sword to a helpless woman. You are not what you claim to be. I allowed our friendship to keep me from saying what I ought to have said as your friend and my inability to do so has brought us to this place. It is dark and it is filled with blood but there is a way back and I am not leaving it without you, not this time. I should have said this to you long before this moment but I did not, nor did I give you my faith when you needed it, most much to my everlasting shame. However, I will not let you disappear into your own grief when what you need most of all is to know forgiveness."
"I cannot be forgiven!" Legolas shouted. "I have become an animal! I killed that child. I did not even think when he came up behind me! I only thought he was the enemy and I struck blindly. I am an elf, I have senses that is keener than most! I should have guessed it was a child! I was so mad with anger and rage at what they had done Melia because of me, that I could not see anything beyond my need to strike out at an enemy and a child died at my hand because of it!"
"It was an accident Legolas," Aragorn found himself saying and feeling some measure of surprise because he believed it. "It was a tragic accident and one you will have to live with."
"How can I live with it?" He shook his head, his tears a well run dry in his body. He had wept over Nunaur's body when there was still warmth in his blood and there were no more tears left in Legolas to weep but the deep well of emptiness still remained and when he looked into it, he still saw the reflection of someone who was not quite the person he had been.
"You must because that is simply the way life is," Aragorn returned. "You stained your hands with blood and that is a stain that does not wash away no matter much you try. It has branded itself into your skin and has become a part of you for as long as you live. It is not a pleasant thought and in this I say men are at least more fortunate than elves for our sins die with our bodies while yours live with you. However, your penance for what was done comes from learning to live it and forgiving yourself for sins that you had no control to prevent."
"I do not think I can," Legolas met his eyes for the first time. "I do not wish too."
"So now what?" Aragorn accused, his voice becoming hard as he decided to adopt a different strategy. "You allow yourself to fade away with guilt because that is the easier road? You have people who care for you, a wife who is beset with enough grief without learning you went mad and allowed yourself to die. Tell me Legolas," Aragorn stared at him. "In this course of vengeance you embarked upon, how much of this was truly about Melia and how much of it was really about you?"
"What?" Legolas stared at him, his jaw clenching in anger at the accusation. "You dare ask me that?"
"Yes," Aragorn nodded. "I do because your lady would never have condoned the death of those people in the villages. She would never have condoned your attack upon Cordoba or anything you have done since entering Haradwraith. You say your vengeance is for her dishonor and for the dishonor of Eden Ardhon but I am starting to think that this is about you. That it has always been about you."
"They raped my wife and the women of my colony!" Legolas glared at him with growing rage simmering beneath his blue eyes. "They raped her and killed others! They nearly razed my home to the ground and my wife is so tormented with guilt that she think she was responsible for the death of Anna, not them, she!"
"And you are here," Aragorn insisted, determined to have the elf do the one thing he had not since he had arrived in Haradwraith, confront the guilt and anger which had led him to become the monster Legolas claimed himself to be. "You are here instead of being at her side. You left her straight after the event and set out to Haradwraith. I saw Melia more than you did after what happened to her. I do not think that you are avenging her, I think you are avenging yourself!"
Legolas lunged before the words even left Aragorn's lips, toppling Gondor's king to the ground and striking out a fist when Aragorn was down. His fist struck the king's jaw as Legolas kneeled over him and Aragorn felt a flare of pain before reacting in kind. His leg struck out, the ball of his uninjured foot connecting with the side of Legolas' head and threw the elven lord off him. Aragorn rolled around and saw the fire of rage building in Legolas as the elf scrambled to his feet to strike again. Aragorn caught his fist and slammed an elbow into Legolas' sternum, causing him to double over. However, Legolas recovered quickly and barreled into Aragorn's body headfirst.
Man and elf fell rolled across the ground with both Aragorn and Legolas giving as good as they got, with fists flying, legs throwing one another off, giving each a temporary reprieve before the combat began. Fist met jaw, blood seeped from cracked skin and bruises began to form beneath pummeling knuckles. They could taste dirt in their mouths, intermingling with blood as they fought each other. Two opponents evenly matched even though the elf was stronger and far more experienced. However, Aragorn possessed the innovation that came with a mind accustomed to quick thinking in order to achieve everything within a short life span.
It was unknown to either how long they engaged in this test of will only that after some time, exhaustion set into their limbs and their blows became less focussed or more half-hearted. Aragorn's fist connected with Legolas' jaw and the elf went sprawling. However, Legolas did not attack again choosing to throw a handful of dust at Aragorn in a last act of defiance before his strength gave out and he lay back in exhaustion, panting hard. Aragorn made no move either and seemed just as tired when they both met each others gaze and burst out laughing like two friends who had discovered the punchline to an enormously good joke. They sat before each other laughing, not chuckling but laughing in full belly laughter whose ability to cleanse were rather surprising.
"You are too hard on yourself elf," Aragorn met his gaze when they had composed themselves.
Legolas met his gaze and suddenly, the humor drained from his face as he spoke, lips trembling; "you cannot say that if you knew how I felt. You cannot know what it is like to see what I saw in her eyes, to see their faces and know that I was responsible for all of it." His words escaped his faster, a litany pouring from his lips without Legolas being the least bit aware of it.
Now they were getting to the heart of it, Aragorn thought silently.
"It should not have happened! We changed the world you and I Aragorn! We helped with the destruction of Sauron and Saruman and fought countless evils across the face of Middle Earth! We fought darkness on a scale that is almost unimaginable and we have lost too. We lost Boromir and we might as well have lost Frodo for what the ring did to him but it was worth it for the promise of what the future held. This is not the future I wanted, I did not dream of this! We are heroes Aragorn, heroes! These things do not happen to heroes! After everything that we went through to see the beginning of a peaceful Fourth Age, this should not have happened! Not to me! It is not fair! I DESERVE BETTER THAN THIS!"
Aragorn watched Legolas unburdened himself in rage until the pent up fury
inside of him to burst fee at last, spilling forth like a boil that had been
finally treated. He heard the fissures appearing in Legolas' wrath, the tiny
cracks in his voice that indicated that the back of his outrage and anger was
about to shatter. Aragorn listened without speaking because Legolas needed to
say what was on his mind, he needed this release because it had been eating
away at him since they had received the news in Lossarnach that the Easterlings
were about to fall upon Eden Ardhon. This would not return Legolas to himself,
even Aragorn was not so foolish as to think that, but it would certainly help
the elf remember who he was.
"IT SHOULD NOT HAVE HAPPENED!"
Legolas screamed finally before the tide of emotion burst forth like a dam and his word descended into tears, tears that were very different than the ones he had wept earlier when he realised that he had lost himself. These tears were different for their source was a far older pain, a pain that had been festering since Eden Ardhon, since he came home and found that his world had been devastated. The outrage at the unfairness of it had driven him to embark upon a path of bloodshed he did not believe himself capable until he had almost murdered that woman and her child.
He wept in deep, hoarse sobs that had reached from the very depths of his soul and shuddered his entire being. He still wanted vengeance, that much had not changed but he would not pursue it to the risk of his very identity. He unleashed it all, supposing Aragorn was right, he knew his sins but he did not know how to live with it. He supposed that was an advantage that came with being human, to be able to accept one's guilt and go on. It was the product of a life span that was too short to be squandered on agonizing over what could not be changed. It was a lesson elves seldom learnt until it was too late. He wiped his tears and raised his eyes to Aragorn who had sat quietly and let him expunge himself.
"You put up with a great deal from me," Legolas said softly. "Why?"
"Because you are my friend, stupid," Aragorn retorted with a faint
smile. "What else was I meant to do?"
"You could have given up on me," Legolas pointed out.
"There have been times when you could have done the same to me," Aragorn reminded, "you did not."
"You did not behave as I have these past months," the elf said somberly.
"No, I did not," Aragorn was forced to agree with that. "A while ago I told you that you must forgive yourself and I cannot ask you do such a thing if I am not willing to forgive you first. I am not happy about what you have done Legolas, I will not lie to you about that but I will forgive you because I need you as more than just an ally in this war. I need you as my friend."
"Thank you," Legolas said to Aragorn, his eyes full of emotion because Aragorn's friendship had been such a surprise for one as old as he. Three thousand years and he had not shared the connection he did with anyone that he shared with Aragorn. While Legolas did not like to think of the day, he knew that when Aragorn passed from this world it would break his heart almost as completely as losing Melia.
"I shall miss Nunaur terribly," Legolas gazed at the body of his faithful comrade, lying where he had fallen, oblivious to all that had transpired in the wake of his demise.
"I know," Aragorn said sympathetically, glancing at the body of the elf. "He was a great warrior and a good friend."
"It was Nunaur who taught me how to string my first bow," Legolas said fondly, remembering in his mind's eye the child he had been, so uncertain when the bow had been placed in his hand. Nunaur had been so reassuring that he would learn how to use it when he saw it as an extension of himself. "My father was often too busy for such lessons so it was Nunaur who often took up the duty of my education. He taught me how to ride, to shoot a bow, to fight with blade and was one of my few friends when I was a child. I do not know how he can ever be replaced in my heart."
"Friends like him cannot be Legolas," Aragorn said softly, finding himself thinking of Boromir as he said those words. His friendship with the Son of Gondor had been brief but knowing Boromir had helped him to see Gondor as more than just the place where his kingship lay but rather a place he could love, a place that deserved a king worthy of it. "Their worth is measured by the sorrow we feel at their passing. You cannot replace such affection with another. It is wholly distinct onto its own."
Legolas absorbed Aragorn's words and decided that once again, the human had a better understanding of death than any elf could. The doom of man could be a great teacher at times.
"I still want him dead you know," Legolas stated after a moment, "the Haradrim king."
"I rather suspected you would," Aragorn nodded, not at all surprised by that statement.
"I promised that I intended to burn his city around his ears," Legolas replied, "I intend to keep that promise although I will try not to harm anyone else. He deserves to die Aragorn. For what he did to me and mine, he deserves to die."
"Just as long as you understand that we are fighting a war, not a personal vendetta," Aragorn reminded.
"I cannot forget that," Legolas met his eyes and Aragorn saw that he did understand, he understood better than Aragorn could possibly have given him credit. "After what I have become, I dare not forget it."
Legolas suddenly turned toward the alley leading out of the square, "someone comes," he declared.
"It is probably Haldir," Aragorn answered dusting himself off.
"His steps are too loud," Legolas countered. "It is a man that approaches."
The man in question was the Prince of Dol Amroth, who stopped short at the sight of both of them. Aragorn saw the shock on Imrahil's face as his jaw dropped open and could imagine the thoughts running through the Prince's mind as he saw them bloodied, bruised, covered in dirt, sitting on the ground after exhausting themselves from their little brawl.
"Look at you both!" Imrahil snapped, appearing to have finally lost his temper with all his allies in this war at long last. Considering their behavior since the onset of this campaign, Aragorn supposed it was only a matter of time before even the Prince's cool demeanor was shaken. Imrahil strode to Aragorn and hoisted him to his feet as if Aragorn were one of his sons misbehaving.
"Kindly remember that you are the king of Gondor and not some tavern brawler!" Imrahil scolded as he made Aragorn stand up. "You are meant to be our leader in this conflict and at this particular moment, you do not engender enough confidence to inspire our cook to make a decent meal, let alone invade a country! It does little to your dignity to be fighting like children in the dirt. I would have thought that two supposedly grown men would have better ways to deal with their quarrel…"
"You are in trouble Estel," Legolas sniggered at Aragorn's dressing down particularly when Aragorn was wearing the look of an admonished child.
"Do not let me start with you," Imrahil turned on Legolas with as much vehemence producing a corresponding smirk from Aragorn. "If your father Thranduil were here, I am certain he would be inspired to cuff you about the ear as well. Unfortunately, one of you is my king and another one is my ally so I cannot bestow that lesson upon either of you particularly when you are so sorely in need! Whatever your differences, try to at least deal with it in the manner befitting your stations!"
"We are sorry Imrahil," Aragorn apologized, trying not to smile. "It shall not happen again."
"Yes," Legolas exchanged a similar smirk with Aragorn, "we are terribly sorry. We have resolved our quarrel. There shall be no repeat of this violence again."
Imrahil stared at both of them wondering if he had perhaps been mistaken about the scene he had entered. "Are you both amusing yourself at my expense?" He asked suspiciously.
Aragorn and Legolas burst out laughing once again, thoroughly confusing the Prince of Dol Amroth.
"Thank you for your counsel Imrahil," Aragorn grinned, patting him on the shoulder as he wiped a smear of blood from his lip. "We had resolved our differences somewhat but your perspective is always welcomed."
"I see," Imrahil frowned, feeling somewhat foolish about his outburst now that it appeared he had walked into it after their issues with each other had been dealt with. However, he was grateful that they had come to some form of understanding.
"How is Eomer?" Aragorn asked remembering that Imrahil had been keeping a vigil at the Rohirrim lord's side for most of this conflict.
"What is wrong with Eomer?" Legolas asked with concern.
"He was impaled when he turned his back on a child that had been wearing the mail of a Haradrim soldier," Imrahil answered with more than a little bitterness in his voice. "Eomer had sought to spare the boy who promptly speared him through the chest as soon as he turned to leave."
"Is he going to live?" The elf asked with alarm, his stomach knotting
in disgust as how Eomer's act of mercy had been treated.
"The surgeons are still working on his wounds," Imrahil turned to Aragorn. "I sought you out because I thought you might be able to help."
"I will do what I can," Aragorn said without hesitation and started to follow Imrahil out of the square. They had not taken a few steps when he noticed Legolas was not following them. The elf had drifted to Nunaur's body and was staring at his dead captain, his face etched in sadness.
"Legolas?" Aragorn called.
"Go," Legolas bade him, "I will join you in due course, I wish first to see to Nanuar's body. I do not wish to leave him here like this."
Aragorn nodded in understanding and left Legolas alone to tend to his dead while Aragorn set out to ensure that Eomer remained among the living.
*************
"So how are you related to Melia?" Faramir asked as they remained within the confines of Kirin's vessel, still moored to the river.
It had been little more than an hour since they were forced to flee to the refuge of the craft, one of many moored along the Sanara river which ran through the heart of the city. Although they could not hear the sounds of their pursuers, Faramir had no doubt that soon the search for them would spread across the city and find them even here. One simply did not kill three Haradrim soldiers and expect to be forgotten. No doubt the murders of three soldiers would ensure the determination of the proper authorities to apprehend them, particularly when those soldiers had been recruiting for the war effort. It would be the same if they were in Minas Tirith and Faramir did not expect the Haradrim to be any different in this respect. He supposed that there was some consolation to be had in the fact that the enemy was seeking three deserters, not spies. If they had known, it would have changed the complexion of the search considerably.
It was decided that they should leave Mahazar by way of river within the hour and sail further down river before making the journey across land to the Splinter to join with the armies of the west, travelling through the narrow passage through the Wall. Following their preparations to make the boat ready for its journey, the new companions sat down for a brief repast and Faramir took the opportunity to question the High Chieftain a little more, particularly in relation to his connection to Melia. Although Faramir did not know Melia as well as Eowyn, he knew that she did not liked to discuss her past. He could understand why of course, since what little Melia had deigned to reveal indicated clearly that the lady's experiences in her homeland had been less than pleasant and those who knew her, chose not to pursue the matter.
"She is my cousin," Kirin answered seeing no harm in telling Faramir about his relationship with Melia. Since so much hinged on his familial obligations to Melia, it was a necessity for Faramir to understand the bonds between them. "Her father was my uncle."
"Melia does not speak a great deal about her homeland," Faramir explained, hoping that would instigate more revelation on Kirin's part.
"It is hardly surprising," Kirin remarked perfectly aware of Faramir's curiosity if the little smile on Pallando's face was any indication of his intentions. The wizard was content to sit leaning against the wall as he savored his pipe and gazed at his companions through the tendrils of diminishing smoke rising from it. "Melia was never truly accepted by a large portion of my family I am sorry to say. She was the daughter of a woman who had abandoned her husband and it was the view of many of my kin that Melia would be no better."
"The sins of her mother are hardly her fault," Pallando stated since he knew better than anyone did the reason why Melia's mother Ninuie, had never returned home with Hezare to the people of Bors.
"I do not disagree with you wizard," Kirin quickly interjected. "Save myself and her father, she had no one who truly cared about her welfare among my family, a situation that shames me even now. It was not even her fault that she was regarded so uncharitably, it was her father's. He chose to raise her differently then it was customary for the women of my people to be raised. Hezare believed that a daughter of his should know how to defend herself and so she was taught to fight and to use the bow. Worse, yet she was taught to think, a most terrible affliction for a woman in those days."
"And yet you do not seem to mind," Faramir pointed out, wondering how Eowyn would endure under such conditions and then considered himself lucky that she was a woman of substance. He adored his golden haired shield maiden who was his equal and with whom he never needed to be anyone but himself.
"I spent a great deal of time with Hezare and Melia in my youth," Kirin answered, remembering the friendship he had struck with Melia who was a little older than him and had always awed him by her determination to stand up for herself. "My father was always more interested in my older brother whom he groomed from birth to take up his position as High Chieftain. A second son to man is little more than insurance should the first be unable to fulfil his responsibilities. I am afraid that my father rather forgot I existed since it was my brother who occupied most of his time."
Faramir warmed immediately to him.
"Fortunately, Hezare was a second son himself and he knew what it was like to be forgotten so when he was home, we spent a good deal of time together. He was our greatest warrior and he taught me that though he could not serve as High Chieftain, he had served defending our people nonetheless. I owe him a great deal and I mourned him almost as much as Melia when he fell in battle."
Faramir could well believe that Hezare had engendered so much respect among his kin having heard how revered his was by the Easterlings who considered the Bors enemy. During the treaty celebration, Ulfrain had spoken of Hezare and how he had died on his feet, ensuring that he did not go easily and he certainly had not met his death alone. He could tell that Kirin still missed Hezare by the effort the younger man made to conceal the involuntary grief that had appeared in his eyes.
"So you and Melia were close," Faramir spoke up, moving past the subject of Hezare's passing for the benefit of his new ally.
"Yes," Kirin nodded, "we grew up together. It was I who warned her off the family's plan to marry her off once her father had passed. It was their intention to make her a proper woman in the eyes of our people. Strangely enough, Melia had known from the moment Hezare had died that her life was about to change. She did not seem at all surprised when they broke the news of the marriage to her." Kirin remembered the sadness in her eyes, thinking how much he hated tradition and custom when he saw the decision she had no choice but to make, forced upon her. He remembered swearing to himself that he would never force another woman into the same position if he had the power to do so.
"In the end, it appeared Hezare was right after all," Kirin said somberly, "unfortunately, we learnt this lesson the hard way."
Faramir sense an ominous revelation in Kirin's statement but did not interrupt because he wanted the High Chieftain to continue.
"Some years ago," Kirin explained, "the Easterlings and Haradrim came to us once more with an offer to join them. They spoke about the coming of a great war, a war that would change the shape of Middle Earth for all time. It was time for us to stand up and be counted, they had said because the enemies of their dark lord were about to be destroyed. Naturally, we refused."
Faramir and Pallando exchanged brief glances before Faramir said quietly, "the War of the Ring."
"Yes," Pallando nodded in agreement. "What happened when you refused?" He asked Kirin a moment later.
"They came at us with everything they had," Kirin said softly, the emotion seeping into his voice despite his efforts not to. "We had never seen so many of them. They swept into all our territories and we held them as best we could but we were unable to protect all our tribes. The Easterlings penetrated into some of the tribal communities, murdering what men there were who had not been called to fight. They raped women and when they were done with the violation, took them out of the Sunlands as spoils of war. There are many daughters of Bors who now reside in Easterling and Haradrim lands as slaves and we have no idea what became of them. The girls they took, the boys who could grow up to become warriors, they did away with the sword. We had never suffered defeat on this scale before."
Kirin paused a moment to compose himself. He did not tell the western prince that during those attacks, he had suddenly found himself master of his house. His father and his older brother Telemar, were slain in battle, his mother murdered in her home and his youngest sister, claimed as an Easterling prize. However, he had not lost all of his family and good portion remained while other suffered even more devastating losses. The attacks had shaken the people of Bors to their very souls because they had never been assaulted so close to home. However, one thing became apparent in the wake of this calamity, their women could no longer afford to be raised so complacent. They needed to know how to protect themselves in the absence of warriors.
"It changed our way of thinking considerably," Kirin explained, revealing none of the more personal details of the attack to Faramir. "Our women were helpless when the invaders came to their homes. They did not know how to escape or defend themselves and their children because we men had forbidden them to learn. After the Scourge, what we call the attacks, our laws were changed to make it permissible for women to pick the sword and learn its craft. Some of our older tribal leaders still have difficulty accepting it but the Scourge taught us we could no longer afford to be so short sighted with the safety of our women. So far, there are only a few women who can be called warriors but in time, that will change."
"A sensible course," Faramir agreed. "Our women do not fight as warriors but they can learn to if they wish and in realms such as Rohan, it is fortunate that they did for it could have ended badly for them otherwise."
"Melia is no longer considered the outcast she was," Kirin continued to explain. "After the Scourge, we were not so quick to judge her and her marriage to Lord Legolas, one of the Fellowship, is a source of great pride to our people."
"You know of the Fellowship?" Faramir exclaimed with some measure of surprise because he did not think that the legend of the Fellowship had penetrated this far into the world. The Sunlands was as distant from the western realm as could possibly be and to think that the legend had reached across Middle Earth in a favorable light was rather astonishing.
"Our people occasionally travel beyond our territories and we have heard the tale of the periannath who found Sauron's evil ring and those who accompanied him on the quest to destroy it," Kirin replied. "However, it was not until the burning of Lord Legolas' realm and the violation of his wife did we know that the Easterling he wedded was called Melia. Once we acquired confirmation that Lord Legolas' wife was indeed Hezare's daughter, we saw the opportunity to defeat our enemies once and for all. My people are tired of being besieged by the Easterlings and the Haradrim. We want to be free of their threat and if that freedom means risking our lives in a battle that will take us far from our lands, then so be it, we will do so for any chance at peace."
"Your house is honor bound to offer Legolas your allegiance," Pallando pointed out, "is it not?"
Kirin's lips curled into a smile and he nodded, rather impressed with Pallando's knowledge of his people's customs, "you know our laws well wizard," he declared, "and you are right. As the head of my house, I am bound to align myself with the husband of my kinswoman."
"A compelling reason on both counts to join us," Faramir remarked. "How many men can you promise us and how quickly are they able to march?"
"Prior to my departure from the Sunlands, I issued my people those very orders," Kirin replied, recalling the instructions he had given to Andros and Radik. "They will be approaching from the east and I believe if we coordinate ourselves, we can enclose the Belt on two fronts. We will be approaching with an army three thousand strong."
Faramir drew in his breath for that was a formidable force indeed and certainly worth its weight in any alliance. "That is most impressive," Faramir commended "If we coordinate ourselves, we can attack them with a force of ten thousand."
"Ten thousand," Kirin said with a little smile, imagining the power of such an army fighting not only for the benefit of the west but also for the people of the Sunlands. "Those are extremely favorable odds."
"They may be," Faramir was not about to make that claim yet. "As
we speak, my comrades are marching towards the Wall, if they have not arrived
already. I anticipate they will be delayed but briefly at the fortress of
Cordoba but once they had taken it, they will make for the Splinter with all
haste. We have reports that the Easterlings and the Variags are amassing troops
and will be marching for Haradwraith. We believe they intend to engage us
before we leave the Splinter."
"They are three days north of here," Kirin declared, "and they number six thousand."
"Thee days?" Pallando turned Faramir, "they will not reach the Splinter in time."
"They do not intend to engage your people at the Splinter," Kirin answered, "Dallanar intends to bring the fight to the belt, to halt your forces within sight of it and he has more than enough men at his disposal to see it done."
*********
It was strange how quickly her memories of Haradwraith returned to her even though it had been more than twelve years since she made the journey to the west.
She had been little more than seventeen years old, a child really, yet by the reckoning of the Bors, she was old enough for marriage. The notion had terrified her, being given to some stranger, to be his creature with no will of her own. She had suspected such a fate would befall her the moment she had learnt her father had died in battle but she had not anticipated how quickly his family would move to make it a reality. The only person who had helped her was the one who warned her of her impending matrimony. Despite being just a boy, Kirin had ensured she had enough gold to trade for passage beyond the territories of the Bors.
She had disguised herself as a boy, cutting her long dark hair almost to the
scalp and wearing the clothes of Telemar, Kirin's older brother when she had
acquired passage on a ship that would take her across the inland sea to the
mountains of Turan. The Turan Mountains, the great range that sheltered the
territory of the Bors from its neighbors, bordered Khand and the Sunlands.
Maintaining her guise a young man on a journey to see the world, Melia had
journeyed across the land of the Variags before arriving at the Sanara River.
Once again, she gained passage on a fishing vessel and found herself at
Mahazar, the capital of Haradwraith.
In Mahazar, it was a simple matter for her to become lost in the exotic city. She had joined a trading caravan travelling westward for it was far easier to move about in the company of travelling merchants then by herself through the wastes of the Barrens. Her gold had wasted away to nothing and she had worked tending droma for the remainder of the journey. Even though she knew how to protect herself in combat, Melia knew almost nothing about the world beyond the Sunlands and linguistic skills had been worse than lacking. Those early years in the west, which were brewing with so much darkness were difficult ones for her and as the years tumbled by, Melia forced herself to think less and less of those times.
Haradwraith had not changed from her recollections of it. The windswept plains of harsh, arid terrain, the jagged smear of rock against the sky when the dunes had paused momentarily, transported her back to her youth. The smell of the desert was familiar and did not alter even when one traveled as far as the Sunlands. It was a distinct smell of heat, sweat and salt. She saw Gimli suffering under the heat and wondered how he had managed to journey across Haradwraith on his own. Her affection for the dwarf had deepened even more when she realized he had undertaken the difficult trip alone because he was determined to bring her the news that her Prince needed her.
"You will need some lanos salve on your skin," Melia noted as she saw his pink skin suffering horrendously under the cutting heat. His face was blistered in places and she knew that this was an affliction that seemed to beset those of fair coloring only. The people of the south and the east were of predominantly darker coloring so they did not burn as easily as the Westron. Melia did not even want to imagine what this climate was doing to the elves that were so fair.
"Lanos?" He looked at her.
"Yes," Melia said with a little smile as she sat astride Lomelindi and continued on their languid pace. It was hot enough without pushing the horses to the limits of their endurance. Best to let the animals continue at their own pace. "The women make it from sheep's wool. They boil it and remove the oil to make a salve they use to apply on infants. It keeps their tender skin from blistering. I think you will need some."
"Its nothing," Gimli shrugged. "I have suffered much worse. We dwarves are very resilient you know."
"I do not doubt that," she replied, "but it would please me if you wore some nonetheless. Lorin would not forgive me I did not take care of you while in we were travelling together."
"You women fuss too much," Gimli grumbled but Melia could see the longing in his eyes at the mention of his wife Lorin, who awaited him in Aglarond.
"There should be a town not far away from here," Melia remarked, surprised how much came back to her now that she was travelling in Haradwraith again. "I think it is called Axinar. If I recall correctly, they're farmers mostly. They grow corn."
"We should not pause in our journey," Gimli said quickly, having no desire to explain to Melia why they should not stop at the community of Axinar, not after what Legolas and the elves had done there, not after what he had done there when he fought at their side. He had been vague about the details regarding Legolas' need for her, saying only enough to ensure Melia made the journey. In fact, the question of whether or not he ought to tell her precisely what Legolas had been doing in Haradwraith was one he had debated ever since he had left for Gondor.
"Gimli," Melia met his gaze. "We have to stop. The horses are not used to this terrain. They will need the rest. Axinar has water and we ourselves should take the opportunity for shelter while it is available. The next town is at least two days journey ahead."
"Melia," Gimli swallowed thickly, having no idea how to convince her otherwise since she knew the terrain and there was no reasonable explanation he could give her for avoiding Axinar unless it was the truth of what Legolas had done there. "It is not a good idea that we stop in Axinar. I do not think its folk will be very hospitable."
"What do you mean?" Melia stared at him and something inside her bristled with alarm. Something in his eyes made her heart clench inside her chest and her stomach hollow with anxiety. "Gimli, what are you not telling me?"
"I did not wish to burden you with this," the dwarf said dropping his gaze to the ground. "However, if you insist on going to Axinar, I have no choice but to tell you lass."
"What has happened?" Melia asked, her throat was dry and she knew his answer was terrible indeed because she could see it in his eyes and his reluctance to speak.
With a strained breath and wishing that he could face all of Sauron's hordes instead of undertaking the task before him at this moment, Gimli spoke in a voice that did not at all like his when he revealed to Melia the truth about Axinar. He told her of Legolas' desire to keep the men of Haradwraith from flocking to the banner of their king by murdering them in their villages. He told of the massacres at Axinar, Laxor, Brecat and Turazon. He spoke in a low voice, describing the terrible images as he remembered them and spoke of his shame at his own conduct in these campaigns.
Melia listened with interruption and Gimli had no inkling what thoughts were running through her mind as he revealed the full measure of Legolas' actions in all its sordid detail. Her eyes were dark and unfathomable as she listened and as he continued to speak, her lack of reaction made him even more anxious that he had done something terrible by revealing to her the truth she had insisted upon hearing.
"Melia," Gimli said when all was concluded. "He is in pain and he does not know what he is doing. His need to avenge you blinds him to all else. You are the only one who can make him see that he does not need to spill blood for you."
"I should not have to make him
see that," Melia declared with anguish. "He is an elf who has lived
long enough to know what is justified and what is not! Is there not enough upon
my conscience already to be burdened with this as well? I did not become his
wife so that he could be driven to murder because of me! If that is what I have
made him then perhaps it is best that I do not see him at all! Perhaps it is
best that I went home."
"Home?" Gimli's eyes widened. "To Eden Ardhon?"
"No," Melia shook her head slowly, "to my father's people, to the Sunlands."
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