Chapter Ten
Mahazar
Eowyn had decided that she did not like being pregnant at all.
Aside from the physical limitations it placed upon her body, this business of caring for another life was rather a daunting one. She knew that it was pure foolishness of course, since she had been looking forward to the birth of her babe since learning of her pregnancy, however as the day drew closer, she began to question what sort of mother she would make. Very little about Eomund and Theodwyn's daughter was as a woman should be. Eowyn knew that she was hardly the picture of the proper noble woman. Noblewomen of her lineage did not ride into battle dressed as a Rohirrim warrior, nor did they embark upon quests to fight ancient evils and they certainly had no business defending their homes alongside their men. With all these deficiencies, in mind, how could she even think of becoming a mother?
There was no doubt that Faramir would be an excellent parent. In the brief time they had shared together before he was forced to embark upon the conquest of Haradwraith, he had spoken of how he would ensure that their child never have to endure the things he had with Denethor. In some sense, Eowyn had the feeling that he would be the more sensitive of the two in regards to their offspring, which was just as well since she had no patience with subtlety. Still, a mother was supposed to warm, nurturing and a comfort to her children. Eowyn had none of these things! Oh what was she thinking when she thought herself fit for motherhood?
"I cannot have this child," she announced quite suddenly to Arwen, whilst they were both sitting on a balcony overlooking Minas Tirith. In recent weeks, it had become more difficult for Eowyn to maintain the mobility she was accustomed to, leading Arwen to suggest that they spent their time here since it would make Eowyn feel less cloistered and still apart of the world.
Arwen looked up startled.
"I cannot have this child," Eowyn repeated herself. "I will make a terrible mother!"
Oh this is terribly familiar, Arwen thought to herself as she composed her thoughts to formulate a suitable response.
She thought of how Aragorn had dealt with the same question and was forced to stifle the smile when she recalled that by this time in her pregnancy with Eldarion, she had already reduced her husband to a bundle of nerves who could only gibber nonsensically when she put forward such questions. She wondered how the man who had little trouble with orc slaying could turn white with fear each time she questioned him if she were becoming too fat.
"You will make a wonderful mother," Arwen spoke in that voice that so many around her found terrible comforting, even if she did not know it herself.
"No I will not," Eowyn declared, her cheeks flushed with anxiety, "I remember my own and I am nothing like her!"
"No,' Arwen said sympathetically, "you are you and that is more than enough for any child to be very fortunate indeed. Your feelings are natural. The closer you are to your time, the more you are with worries about what will happen when the babe does arrive. All women bearing a child at one time or another feels what you feel. Motherhood is about doubting oneself and blundering through the rest to find the best way. I cannot say that I know you will be a wonderful mother but I do know you and that gives me a great deal of faith in how you will raise your child."
Eowyn met her gaze, softening considerably at Arwen's kind words.
"You are a good friend," Eowyn said emotionally, conceding that Arwen was probably correct in assuming that her feelings had a good deal to do with her condition. "I only wish Faramir were here."
"I have no doubt that he probably feels the same as you," Arwen returned, feeling a pang of sadness that the Prince of Ithilien was not absent for this momentous occasion. While she missed Aragorn herself, Arwen was grateful that Aragorn had been present during Eldarion's birth.
"How do you think they fare?" Eowyn asked, easing back into her chair because her lower back was aching and the needlepoint she had been working on was not improving her disposition. Her hands felt especially clumsy today as if her body was concerned with other matters and not devoting itself to the accuracy she needed for the work.
"I do not know," Arwen answered honestly and hated it that she could give Eowyn a no firmer answer than that.
"I hope Melia was able to help Legolas," Eowyn remarked, flinching in her seat once more. Curse it, why could she not feel slightly comfortable in his chair?
"I doubt anyone can help Legolas if he does not wish it," Arwen replied sadly, disagreeing with Melia's decision to go to front lines to face Legolas. Arwen knew the elf and she knew that when his mind was set, very little would alter it unless he saw reason for it to change. His stubbornness was the stuff of legend and Arwen feared that Melia's arrival at the battlefield would only complicate the situation, not improve it.
"Oh," Eowyn said suddenly, causing Arwen's eyes to shift from the vista of the White City to meet the young woman's own.
Eowyn's expression was one of quiet contemplation but her body language told Arwen that the thoughts running through her head could be anything but calm. She had sat up straight in her chair, almost rigid as a matter a fact. Her brow had furrowed over her eyes and her gaze though looking straight at Arwen, did not see the elf queen.
"What is it?" Arwen asked with alarm when suddenly, what sounded like water dripping against stone caught her attention.
She honed in on the sound almost immediately, the advantage of elven hearing allowing for such precision. A puddle was forming beneath Eowyn's chair, clear fluid wetting the marble in an expanding pool. Arwen's eyes widened, three thousand years of poise suddenly vanishing in an instant at the realisation that Eowyn's time was no longer near, it was now.
"I think my time has come," Eowyn spoke, stating the obvious.
"I believe you are right," Arwen said on her feet and at Eowyn's side
"I was merely being rhetorical when I question my fitness for motherhood you know," Eowyn said as Arwen helped her to from the chair, "I had no idea that Eru was listening."
"I assumed as much," Arwen answered. "However, I have found that Eru has an odd sense of humour in situations like this."
"Yes," Eowyn nodded mutely as they made their way off the balcony slowly, "if I knew he was in the mood to grant requests, I would have asked him to have Faramir bare this baby."
**************
This was not his first sighting of the great beasts, but their power to leave his breathless had not altered one wit.
Like the ambush awaiting Dallanar's forces in Anumet, the business of dealing with the remaining forces of the confederacy was also conducted under a tight shroud of secrecy. Aragorn had been insistent that they keep from harming the oliphants if possible and it was a view shared by Eomer as he lead the Rohirrim and the elven cavalry towards the enemy with all the arts of stealth at their disposal. The hour was growing late and the enemy had set up camp for the night, their animals left to graze on the meagre vegetation to be found in this parched terrain as well as the enormous supplies of food that was surely necessary to feed such beasts.
The beasts stirred but slightly, their long noses undoubtedly facilitating a heightened sense of smell but not enough so that they were able to discern danger as of yet. Danger to the oliphants was something they could sense or see, the less tangible instincts that allowed man dominance over the beasts were lost to them and so while they could sense the approach of others, they were unable to discern if there was need for caution. The elves had kept close eye on the encampment once the darkness descended, watching the humans as they went about their business, preparing for a battle that had already been pre-empted without their knowledge.
They watched carefully as the enemy prepared for their evening repose, leaving their animals to gaze without the slightest inkling that the enemy they had marched to ambush had already arrived and were keeping them under tight scrutiny in the prelude to their own plans. Once the oliphants were left to graze and the attention of the army was fixed upon the business of the morning, the elven scouts returned to the main body of the cavalry and reported their findings. Eomer and Haldir reached a silent agreement that there was no longer any reason to wait and with the rest of the western army engaging the Confederacy, they were needed elsewhere once their task here was done.
Instead of charging, they moved in silently, a difficult thing to accomplish on horseback but between them, the Rohirrim and the elves knew a great deal about advancing in silence. They waited until the sun had truly set upon this warm and arid land, until the scourging winds began to take the place of heated air. The cavalry divided themselves in their advance. Haldir led one half of their forces towards the oliphants to ensure that when the alarm was raised, they would be able to sever the path between the enemy and the beasts. Keeping the Confederacy away from the oliphants was the only way to ensure that the cavalry was not forced to engage the beasts because in such an instance, they would have no choice but to harm the animals.
When the oliphants became increasingly agitated by their looming presence, Eomer knew that they could not longer delay their advance by attempting to remain cloaked in stealth. Fortunately, they had crossed enough distance to ensure that it no longer mattered if they abandoned their covert approach and continued ahead in a full frontal assault. They had covered enough distance to ensure that the enemy was no longer capable of reaching their beasts without encountering the elves and without the oliphants, the remaining Confederacy forces were extremely vulnerable to the might of Eomer's formidable Rohirrim warriors.
"ROHIRRIM!" Eomer cried out, his voice sailing across the night and shattering the peaceful twilight irrevocably. "CHARGE!"
The elves were far more discreet, since the success of their mission depended on severing the enemy's ability to reach their beasts. However, Eomer's war cry had ensured that the attention of every warrior in the Confederacy encampment was fixed upon the approaching Rohirrim cavalry and not the silent approach of the elves that were cutting off their only means of defence. Within minutes of Eomer's call to charge, the encampment came to a frantic awakening as the alarm of danger was raised. Excited voices in a mixture of languages, Easterling, Khand and Haradrim meshed clumsily into a cacophony of panic, particularly when they realised that the ambush had been far better coordinated than their efforts to rise to the occasion.
Eomer's mount was one of the first to reach the encampment and the disarray caused by their sudden appearance was extreme. Enemy soldiers were hurrying across the camp, making their way towards the mumakils only to bar by charging elven warriors who were making their presence felt most prolifically. Arrows flew through the air from exquisitely crafted elven bows, cutting down the enemy who were now beginning to sense the full scope of their predicament. Eomer saw a Haradrim warrior rushing at him with a spear and immediately unsheathed his sword to meet the weapon by the time it reached him.
Swinging his blade hard across, the sword dug into the stems of the spear and split the wood easily. The force of his attack tore the weapon from the Haradrim's hands and he finished the contest of battle with a sharp thrust through the enemy's chest. The soldier let out a sharp cry of pain before tumbling into the dirt beneath Eomer's line of sight. Sweeping his gaze across the battlefield, he saw the Rohirrim swarming across the encampment, cutting down the Confederacy soldiers who were trying desperately to reach their weapons to mount some form of defence. Some did manage to arm themselves but most were falling beneath the onslaught of blade, spear and arrow that slashing away at the night air and connecting with flesh.
Eomer saw the enemy attempting to reach the oliphants and knew that there would be elves to greet them when they made the effort. Still, good portions of the Confederacy's warriors were making the effort and may prove fortunate enough to reach the beasts. It was a gamble Eomer was unwilling to take and immediately issued orders to the nearest riders to intercept them. Digging his heels into the flanks of his mount, the horse bolted forward, falling immediately into pursuit of the men hurrying away from the camp towards their beasts.
With his blade brandished, Eomer and the Rohirrim cut down their numbers, enabling the elves to cordon off the routes to the beasts as well as forming a defensive perimeter through which none of the Confederacy could break. Eomer and Haldir had spent days engaged in the business of formulating this particular strategy, aware that the enemy's first inclination would be to reach their oliphants. The Easterling relied heavily upon their mumakil cavalry to win their battles. The sheer size of the beasts allowed them to trample any opposition into the ground before their rankers moved in for the final assault. Unlike the Haradrim who were fierce fighters on foot or on horseback, the Easterlings seemed to rely too much on the beasts and it was this observation of their battle tactics that allowed Eomer and Haldir to create a plan that would cut away that advantage when they needed it most.
Drawing the conclusion that they would not reach their mounts unless they defeated the enemy on horseback, Eomer noticed some of the Easterling breaking off from the main group attempting to reach the oliphants. He caught sight of weapons under the moonlight, the curvature of the heavy scimitars, sharp lances and pikes upon which many a cavalryman had met his end, turning their deadly eye upon the Rohirrim.
Eomer's eye caught sight of something moving at the far corner of his vision and swung around in time to see a scimitar coming for his horse. The king of the Mark leaned forward, halting the blow would have surely killed his horse and forced back the weapon with all the strength he could muster. This was considerably easy to do since for a cavalryman there was no greater sin that attacking his horse and he reacted with unbidden savagery. Slashing his sword in a crisscross movement that saw blood splatter across the guards on his legs and across the flank of his steed, Eomer sent his would be attacker tumbling into the dark and was satisfied when he did not return.
Raising his eye to the field of battle, he saw similar struggles taking place across the field as his Rohirrim warriors defended themselves against the enemy who were now coming at them at force. Unfortunately for the Easterlings, the bulk of their number had entered Anumet and there were simply not enough of them to defend against the large body of Rohirrim cavalrymen. Eomer felt a twinge of sorrow at seeing so many die because he was a warrior. Though most would not know it, there was a difference between being a warrior and a soldier. A soldier fought for a country and warrior fought for a cause. He was a soldier first but he was also enough of a warrior to be saddened at seeing the deaths of so many men who had fought valiantly under crushing odds.
The Confederacy was defeated but that would not stop them from fighting even if they knew it.
*************
Whilst the Rohirrim ensured that the enemy was suitably distracted, the elves were advancing steadily and stealthily upon the mumakils. The elves with their ability to communicate with animals had been the cornerstone of Eomer and Haldir's plan because Aragorn had made it clear that he did not wish the creatures harmed if it could be avoided. The oliphants were formidable indeed but they no more deserved to be butchered than horses were during the battle. Haldir respected the Elfstone's decision but was certain that his decision was not entirely, altruistic. While these beasts remained in existence, they would provide the Easterlings with a formidable weapon. It was to the benefit of the western army that they learn all they could about the creatures and their vulnerabilities, to saw nothing of commanding a herd for their own use.
Following Eomer's loud cry of battle, whose purpose was not only to act as a signal to his men but also to draw the enemy's attention away from the oliphants as Haldir led his elves towards them. Half the elves held the line against the inevitable flood of Confederacy warriors that would undoubtedly attempt to reach their beasts while the other half made their way towards the creatures themselves. Haldir took the stand between the oliphants and their masters, certain that those he had sent to undertake the secondary portion of their mission would acquit themselves adequately.
After all, they were elves.
Haldir remained on horseback and could discern without casting his gaze behind him that roar of battle was unsettling the beasts considerably. The oliphants trumpeting voices could be heard in random succession and their massive height and bulk cast a shadow of near pitch-black darkness over the elves holding the line against their masters. Haldir could sense their anxiety and their expectation. They craved the comforting symbiosis between rider and mount during such instances and the absence of the former made the beasts anxious for they were uncertain what to do.
Fortunately, the darkness hindered the enemy more than it hindered the elves that were able to see far better than men under any circumstances. In any case, the Eldar relied upon senses beyond their ability to see and they could sense the arrival of the enemy well before they were actually able to see them. Haldir armed his bow as he heard the approaching advance of the Easterlings. He could hear their footsteps thundering against the ground, soles of their feet crushing the gravel like terrain into dust. He could almost hear them draw breath.
"Naur na innas!"
His order had no sooner left his lips than a deadly wall of arrows escaped the line of elves and slammed into the enemy like a brick wall that had suddenly formed out of nothingness. It was too dark to see them clearly still but the screams of pain as well as the abrupt halt of footsteps revealed a clearer picture than one that could be gained from sight. He could imagine in his mind's eyes the men that had been halted in their steps, thrown backward from the force of the projectiles, those who kept moving even though the comrade at their side had fallen into the dirt behind him.
"Ad!" He shouted again.
Another barrage of arrows was sent flying through the air and though the effect was not as prolific as the first assault, Haldir had no doubt that it had done considerable damage to the number of the Easterling advance. Indeed, his assumption appeared true when the enemy finally appeared within their sights, there seemed a considerably less number of them than he had anticipated and though their purpose was clearly to reach the beasts behind the elves, there was rage to their battle cry that belied the anger felt at their fallen comrades.
The elves continued the assault with their arrows, savagely curtailing the number of Easterlings coming towards them. At the last instance, the enemy realising their vulnerability began to spread out, erroneously believing that like the elves were like men, employed long bows that were effective mostly over distance. However, as anyone who had ever seen Legolas Greenleaf in battle could attest, this was an assumption steeped in folly. The arrows flew almost to the last instance, when only a quarter of the Easterling cavalry remained alive and capable of fighting.
They swarmed around the front line of elves who themselves had scattered in an effort to defend themselves and to hold the perimeter. Haldir heard a cry and felt his heart plunge a little because it was the voice of someone he knew. Lashing away at the enemy attempting to pull him from his horse, his senses screamed of impending peril that was not for the battle but to him personally. He looked up just in time to see the point of the spear coming at him. Haldir twisted his body in the saddle to evade it but he did not have the flexibility to escape completely unscathed.
The pain was not quite excruciating but for a precious few seconds, the elf felt every nerve in his body screaming in pain. It was rather a miracle that the impulse did not manifest itself verbally. He felt it in his flesh, its steel scrapping the underside of his ribs, blood flowing out of his armour. His eyes clouded in pain as he saw the enemy yank back the weapon and succumbed to the agony of that abrupt retraction by a slight shout. Haldir slumped forward in his saddle, breathing hard and through his teeth. He could sense for a repeat attack and lifted his gaze enough to see his approach. To the Easterling, he appeared done but Haldir was far from that. Shaking from the pain, he focussed his thoughts and waited until the best possible moment, that is when the enemy attempted to shove the spear through his chest.
He caught the shaft with reflexes only the Eldar knew, his speed driven by the chemicals of aggression pulsing through a body that was steeling itself to fight for survival. His gauntlet enclosed the shaft slick with his blood and snatched it from the enemy using the reserve of elven strength. His other hand had been poised on the hilt of his blade and in quick succession; he unsheathed the weapon and swung it in a neat arc. The enemy's head flew into the air, the force of the cut so powerful that it spun once before tumbling against the ground, making a thudding noise that was almost as sickening as the feel of his blood soaking into his clothes.
Haldir cast the spear aside once the deed was done, lifting himself painfully upright. He was injured badly but he was not about to leave the field. They were not done yet and this was one battle he was going to see through the end. No injury was going to stand in the way of that fierce desire.
**********
Gimli did not like leading battle and he liked leading an army of men even less. However, when Aragorn had given him the important duty of leading the rankers in the attack, the son of Gloin found that he could not refuse. In truth, there was very little to do in such an instance, since most of the army's eye would be affixed upon their king charging into battle astride his horse. Still, Aragorn felt it was important that someone lead the charge on foot and though dwarves were not really at their best whilst running, at least over long distances, Gimli knew that he was more than capable of doing so.
When Aragorn had ridden away, his cry of battle reaching into the hearts of all, even Gimli himself, the dwarf had repeated the call to fight for the kings of all, namely Elendill and the army of rankers had exploded forward in a stampede of sound that drowned all other thoughts from their mind and perhaps the world itself. Their arrival had astonished the enemy who possibly at that point believed they were facing the ambush of archers and riders, not the complement of the entire Western army. Gimli saw the astonishment on their faces, amidst the dim glow of torches they carried. Their hesitation lasted but briefly before fear and determination swept away their intimidation.
The armies met like colliding rocks, shattering into a thousand fragments as the battle splayed out across their limited field. In the passageway between the hills, they fought, a tide of bodies hacking away at each other. Gimli did not know many he killed, how much blood was drawn from his axe. He no longer kept score of how many he killed, it became too numerous to count and truth be known, the keeping a running tally of the dead had ceased to be a game since entering Haradwraith.
Swinging the axe into the belly of yet another unfortunate opponent, Gimli tried to catch a glimpse of either Aragorn or Legolas during the battle. The darkness and the number of bodies made it difficult to see. The field of battle was also rather large despite the narrow passage of the ravine. He was certain by now the elf would be in the thick of things since Legolas would have proceeded here immediately after the ambush by the archers was completed. Gimli could see the cavalry around him, watched the armoured warriors astride their beasts taking a devastating toll on the enemy but he could not see Aragorn. No doubt the king of Gondor would be in dead centre of the storm.
The dwarf rolled across the ground as he saw a scimitar blade coming at him. He could not roll very far without fear of being trampled but made sure he had the room he needed to maneuver as he got on his feet and cleaved a fatal blow in his enemy's back. The Easterling or Haradrim, it hardly mattered to Gimli anymore, fell flat on his face as Gimli pulled out the blade and resume the battle. Suddenly, through the moonlight, he saw a familiar head of gold hair through the sea of fighting bodies. Gimli narrowed his eyes and concentrated, wishing at this moment he was in possession of elven eyesight, though it would take a torturers rack to force him to admit it, but it was undoubtedly the lord of Eden Ardhon and his friend.
It was Legolas.
It took another instant of observation to realise that the elf was standing still in the middle of all the chaos around him, oblivious of the battle because something else had captured his eyes. Gimli knew that look, the one he had become so familiar with throughout the desert campaigns and was suddenly gripped with the terrible urgency that he needed to reach the elf immediately.
****************
For Legolas Greenleaf, the war was suddenly and utterly forgotten.
It appeared as if he were standing in the eye of the storm, with chaos ensuing all about him in a tempest of blood and killing and within that eye, stood Dallanar and his son.
The boy was frozen in fear, terrified to move lest he become swallowed in the maelstrom around him. Like any child, his first impulse was to remain close to the parent who raised and loved him. However, he was the Crown Prince of Haradrim and he was facing the leader of the elves who had turned the war against his country into a bloodbath, an elf who held their father personally responsible for the destruction of his colony, who now looked at him with such calculation that the boy had come to realise that killing the father was no longer as satisfying as murdering the son.
The boy stared at his father and saw that the older man had understood this as well.
"Get away from him," Dallanar's demand hissed in Legolas' ears.
"Get away from him or what?" Legolas asked, his voice was glacial in its hatred.
"Your rage is with me," Dallanar replied, painfully aware of how much closer the lord of Eden Ardhon was to his son.
"Then you should not have brought him to the battlefield," Legolas answered.
"He is the Crowned Prince," Dallanar declared, "I cannot ask of our young men what I cannot ask of my own son."
"And so he will pay the same price as they," Legolas retorted, taking a step towards him.
"NO!" Dallanar exclaimed, the persona of king forgotten, only the terrified parent remained.
He rushed at Legolas who was not exactly taken by surprise at his aggression. The king of the Haradrim barrelled into the elf and knocked him off his feet, Dallanar's bulk against Legolas lithe frame accomplishing this easily enough. The king swore at himself because he was in possession of better skills in battle than this novice's attack but his actions were meant to drive the elf away from his son and to that end, this clumsy tackle worked rather well. He rolled on top of Legolas, preparing to strike when suddenly, the elf's foot lashed out, the toe of his boot making sharp contact with the back of Dallanar's skull. The Haradrim king let out a soft grunt of pain as he reeled forward, disturbing his balance enough for Legolas to throw him off.
The elf rolled onto his knees and was on his feet in seconds, his body moving like that of a cat, smooth and gracile. Dallanar struggled to keep up, pushing himself onto his knees and looked up in time to see another boot connecting with the underside of his jaw, beneath the chin. The power of the kick almost flipped him onto this back and he immediately felt blood in his mouth from where teeth had sunk into his tongue. The elf took a step forward in his dizziness, a hand clenching around Dallanar's throat and falling him to his feet. He felt powerful fingers digging into his flesh and a fist connecting with his jaw with such force that he slammed against the floor without contest.
Dallanar struggled to get up but his pummelling at the hands of the enemy was far from done. He felt himself hauled upwards by the arm and managed to react with a rush of a determination, throwing as fist into the lord of Eden Ardhon's face and momentarily distracting him into releasing his grip upon Dallanar. The king saw the elf stagger back from the blow and opened his swollen eye to search for his son. He found him not long after, staring at the scene with his eyes wide from fear and worry.
"Run!" Dallanar ordered but could offer no more instruction when he felt another blow, this one against his ribs, followed by another sharp blow to the jaw. He had heard that elves were far stronger than men but until now, Dallanar did not realise how much difference that could make in a battle.
The king of the Haradrim fought valiantly to hold his own against the lord of Eden Ardhon but Legolas Greenleaf was being driven by more than just the need to win the day. He was driven by the anguish of everything this man had driven him to do, the enmity he had created between himself and all men who would never look at any elf in quite the same way because of what he had done in Haradwraith. As his fists flew, striking flash, turning bone into kindling, Legolas was visited with a flood of images and each of them had their own resonance of pain and fury. He thought of the child he had killed, of Nunaur who would never be able to see the Undying Lands, he thought of the little girl Anna and the village of Lebethron who had been sacrificed as a warning to him, he thought of all the elves who had come to an end in this desert on the edge of the world and of Eden Ardhon, his home, sullied and destroyed.
And then there was Melia.
His wife. His love. Violated like some tavern whore because was his wife. The Easterlings had not simply taken her honour, they had carved up her heart with guilt until the only way she could justify anything that he had done was to leave. Like Aragorn and all his friends, she would never look at him in quite the same way again, not after the blood this man had caused him to spill. Legolas wondered what enraged him more, the fact that this animal had caused his wife such pain or turned him into a monster. Perhaps that was the real reason why he could not go to Melia; he could not bear having her turn away in shame, knowing what he had done here in Haradwraith. He could not bear being held any less in her eyes, any more than she had been unable to endure the same after her violation.
Legolas loved her too much.
He did not know how long his fists struck flesh, how many blows he had delivered to the king of the Haradrim who no longer fought back. Legolas could feel his knuckles split, could feel the damp of blood against his skin, most of which was not his own. The red haze of rage and grief fell away from his eyes and when he blinked, he saw that Dallanar's face was little more than a bloody pulp. The man's teeth, jagged rows of white were covered in blood and Legolas doubted he was able to see through the blood filled swell of his eyes.
"Leave him alone!" The boy screamed, rushing at Legolas, anger overcoming his fear at last.
Legolas lashed out with one hand and grabbed the boy by the neck, releasing the father to the ground. Dallanar fell against the gravel, not quite conscious as Legolas turned towards his firstborn.
Legolas stood up to full height, holding the boy firmly in his grip, staring at the young face. He was little more fifteen years old, now that the Lord of Eden Ardhon had opportunity to look at him closer. His eyes had lost their momentary glint of rage and had resumed fear once more. He closed his eyes as Legolas unsheathed his sword, clamping them tight so that he would not see the killing blow. He did not cry out, even though his lips were trembling, the corner of his eyes filled with tears. Legolas could sense his fear, it was so thick that it could be sliced with a blade.
"Please…" Dallanar's voice groaned over the sound of battle. "Please do not hurt him. Your anger is at me, not at my son. He did nothing to harm you or your kind. Do not punish him for my sins," Dallanar's voice choked into a sob, "I beg you, spare him."
"It is a terrible thing is it not?" Legolas met his gaze and addressed his nemesis for the first time without rage or malice, merely calm elven resignation, a stark contrast to his brutal assault upon Dallanar but a short moment ago. "To see someone you love, harmed and humiliated, destroyed from within with wounds that no amount of time can ever truly heal, knowing that it was suffering inflicted because of you. To watch everyone you love endure their wounds, while you yourself come away completely unscathed, whole and yet less intact than they because their grief eats away your soul, a tiny portion at time."
Dallanar did not speak but the shudder in his eyes at the sight of his son in the elf's grip told Legolas he was beginning to understand quite clearly.
"What you did to my people, there are no word to describe. To take one of us by force in the despicable manner you have done could have easily caused the annihilation of your race had we been in greater numbers in Middle Earth. My people were willing to turn our back upon Valinor and our gods to wage war against Morgoth, what in Eru's name did you think would happen when you provoked us by what you did at Eden Ardhon? It was I who gave it its name, it meant New World and that is what I wished to build, a new world in a new age of peace. The War of the Ring did not just end the bloodshed for Gondor and the west but for your people as well. All Aragorn ever wanted to do was reunite all the races of men but you could not see the gesture for what it was. It was easier to believe that he was attempting to subjugate you rather than to give peace a chance. Even in his death, your people are still shackled in servitude to Sauron."
Dallanar appeared as if he might protest at that statement but he did not speak and Legolas imagined that it would take some effort on his part to form any words after the battery the king had received at his hands. Fortunately, the only further assault that Dallanar would have to endure from him now would be a verbal one.
"You took Eden Ardhon and you destroyed it, you sullied it with your cruelty and turned me so far away from myself that I shall never be able to look in the mirror without seeing some part of the darkness you provoked in me. You almost turned me into a creature that would have murdered your son in front of your eyes just to ensure you understood my wrath. A number of weeks of ago, I would have done it and happily. I would have split his belly open and have his innards fall about your ears in bloody sacrifice but I have come to discover of late, thanks to my friends and the woman whose rape you were so happy to boast in Ithilien, that I will not allow you any more power over me than you have. I will not become the monster that you would have me be. You have turned me against my conscience too much already and I will cross it no more."
With that Legolas released the boy and said softly, "go."
The boy stared at him with shock, "this is a trick."
"If you die this day boy, it will not be at my hands," Legolas answered. "My choice does not reflect the rest of the western army so this reprieve may be temporary. In any case, I have no concern of you."
"I will not go without my father," the boy insisted in surprising show of steel.
"GO!" Dallanar groaned in pain.
"I will not go without you father!" The boy returned.
"Do not worry yourself," Legolas stepped away from father and son. "I have no intention of killing him though he surely deserves it."
Dallanar's shock was reflected in his eyes.
It was the truth however. In the last few minutes, he had realised how pointless it was. He could have killed Dallanar's son and shown the man what it was like to have someone he loved harmed because of his choices. However, Legolas realized that it would change nothing for him personally. It would not take away the pain he felt or the sorrow in his heart.
Aragorn was right.
Life was hard and sometimes one simply had to accept the misfortunes it dealt and continue on. He had heard the words but did not truly understand it until the moment was upon him. He could have killed Dallanar and let that act of vengeance destroy all semblance of the person he was but suddenly, in this place, with so much death surrounding him, even as he was turning Dallanar's flesh into pulp, Legolas could not think about anything but life.
His life, the life of his friends and that of Melia's, all waiting to be lived and he wanted very much to be apart of it, as he was before this conflict of blood had changed him.
Suddenly, he wanted it more than he wanted to kill Dallanar.
Legolas stared at the boy who still refused to run and spoke once more, surprised that the battle had yet to interrupt the moment. "Eru knows I have thought of little else these past few weeks but of taking your life," Legolas replied, staring at Dallanar. "I have justified the rightness of my cause to the very possibility of losing my wife forever but now that I stand within reach of my goal, I see no reason to take your life. I am certain that someone else will do so in due course. Your country is conquered, your people will soon become a part of the Reunified Kingdom, a province of Gondor. You are defeated enough without my personal need to take your life and because my wife believed letting you live would save me. I do not know whether or not I can be saved but I will do this because I have failed her too many times since Eden Ardhon. This one thing I am willing to sacrifice because she means more to me than your blood on my hands."
And Melia truly did. When this war was over, he would find her and tell her that she was right, that to kill this Haradrim king was to destroy the man he loved and he would not risk such a thing, not ever again. Legolas turned away from Dallanar, staring at the battle that was still raging around him like the white hot flames of a furnace, preparing to throw himself into the fray for he was willing to do battle as a soldier, not as the vengeful lord of Eden Ardhon. His days of being encompassed by this all consuming need to avenge that particular wrong was done.
It was time to live again.
He did not look over his shoulder, certain that the boy had rushed to his father's side the moment Legolas had turned his back upon both of them. There was a battle to be won yet, although Legolas was certain they would take the field at the end of the day. Somewhere in this carnage that had left them untouched while he spoke his mind, was Aragorn and Gimli, he wished to find them again and fight at their side as he had done since becoming a member of the Fellowship. This was as much about reclaiming his sense of self as it was reclaiming his wife.
He had no more taken a step forward when something tugged at his subconscious, urging him to pause. It manifested itself like a sudden swell of the ocean and when Legolas spun around, he heard his name being called with terrible urgency.
"WATCH OUT!"
Legolas turned around and saw Dallanar had recouped his strength and was surging towards him with a scimitar. The lord of Eden Ardhon had barely had enough time to avoid being impaled when suddenly, he saw Dallanar falter in his attack, the king's forceful steps becoming an uncoordinated stagger forward. The Haradrim king stared at him, his expression unfathomable. He open his torn lips to speak but what came from it was not a voice but a gush of blood that spilled over his lips and ran down his chin. He dropped to his knees suddenly and fell forward.
Legolas took a step back and discerned what had happened when he saw the axe buried in the back of Dallanar's skull. Dallanar's son had run forward and was soon crouched over his father, sobbing in grief. Legolas would have offered him compassion but somehow felt that it would be ill received. Dallanar had made his choice in spite of Legolas' mercy. What fate claimed him or his son beyond that point was no longer the elf's concern. Instead, Legolas lifted his eyes upward and saw himself staring at the dwarf who had saved his life.
"I believe that brings my tally to twenty," Gimli declared, his voice shaking. The dwarf had heard Legolas' speech and had done nothing because his heart was filled with such gratitude at the journey the elf had taken back to them that he could not bear to interrupt until the moment demanded it.
Legolas' curled his lips into a little smile, "I think you may be ahead in this game my friend."
"You are a reckless fool," Gimli retorted as Legolas closed the distance between them and patted his shoulder in a gesture of untold affection. "Only a fledgling turns him back upon an enemy even when he is seemingly subdued. You could have gotten yourself killed!" The dwarf ranted in typical fashion.
"No I would not," Legolas shook his head. "I knew you would be there to watch my back."
Gimli's eyes clouded with emotion and as always when he was bombarded with sentiment he was not entirely comfortable with, harrumphed loudly before going to retrieve his weapon.
"Where is he?" Gimli asked upon realizing that Dallanar's child had fled, leaving his father's dead body behind.
Legolas swept his gaze across the battle field, at the fight still raging around them and released a little sigh when he could not see the boy, "I do not know and it no longer matters."
And he was rather pleased at how good it felt to know that it was true.
**********
Dallanar's death did not bring the battle to an end.
When they had fought the enemy on home ground, the Haradrim were willing to die for their leader but after their numerous defeats and the onslaught of elven wrath, the enemy's willingness to protect the king lessened considerably as did their faith in his strategy. Dallanar's death was hardly noticed by his people and only after the fighting was done, would many of them become aware that he had fallen at all. Before that outcome, the battle of Anumet continued into the morning with losses on both sides. Despite the devastating surprise attack from which they never fully recovered, the Confederacy defended themselves valiantly and while it was hoped that it would not come to it they fought almost to the last man.
Aragorn had fought the battle in the very heart of it. Astride Roheryn, he provided his men with the will to continue fighting, even when their limbs were aching and their bodies bled from numerous wounds. Their king fought alongside of them, never leaving the field of battle. Upon Roheryn, King Elessar directed the battle, fought the enemy and bled alongside them. Those who had faltered had only to see the determination in their king's eyes to know that they could wield their sword once more and fell upon the enemy whose numbers were beginning to dwindle.
Legolas and Gimli fought alongside each other throughout most of the battle, carving a path through the sea of bodies to reach Aragorn. The king of Gondor was grateful to see they were alive but could do little to acknowledge it as the battle continued. The three remained in close proximity for most of the night, wielding axe, sword and dagger in endless combat, slashing and cutting away at bone, flesh and blood, until the sand ran red with it and the air was killed with nothing but clanging steel and cries of dying and agony.
The ranks of the enemy were savagely decimated once the more seasoned veterans had fallen in battle. The desperation of the Confederacy in its conscription was most apparent by the young faces that Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn were force to fight. While some were little more than adolescents, others were not long into their adulthood but ultimately the outcome was the same. Against the battle hardened warriors of Gondor, Rohan and Ithilien, to say nothing of the experienced elven warriors, the enemy could not stand and began to fall like chaff in the wind.
Imrahil had carried out his task of preventing the Confederacy from escaping the ravine with magnificent success. The Lord of Dol Amroth, using the warriors under his command drove the enemy back through the passage, hemming them in on either side of the ravine. Faced with Imrahil's forces and Aragorn's on either side of them, the Confederacy arm was soon crushed in a ring of steel. What the cavalry under Imrahil's lead did not tear asunder, the rankers of the western army were more than capable of undertaking with similar efficiency.
By the time Eomer and Haldir returned to the ravine after undertaking their own mission beyond the hills of Anumet, the enemy was already on the verge of complete annihilation. The appearance of more cavalry seemed to drive what will there were in them to prevail into nothingness. The plan to nullify the threat of the mumakils had met with resounding success with the remnants of the Confederacy army utterly laid to waste and the elven ability to communicate with the beasts ensured that the creatures would be no further trouble.
The combined assault of the western army in all it's entirely upon the dwindling remains of the Confederacy, brought the enemy to its knees in a matter of hours. As the sun rose in the horizon and the night stole further away from dawn into the new day, the battle of Anumet had finally drawn to an end and though no one spoke it at the time, so too were the Desert Campaigns of Haradwraith.
*************
Legolas stared out the window and allowed his gaze to sweep across Mahazar, remembering how he had once vowed to burn this city to the ground.
He was rather glad that he did not.
They had marched into Mahazar yesterday, entering the city unopposed because the Tribe of Bors had swept into the Haradrim capital days before and dealt with the scant forces left behind to defend the city. The people of Mahazar had little choice but to endure the occupation of the four thousand strong army from the Sunlands, particularly when the handful of soldiers left to defend them were easily overcome. Some resistance from the native population had been encountered but the Bors dealt with this using similar efficiency and by the time the armies of the west marched into Mahazar, the population had settled into an uneasy acceptance of their situation.
The rest of the Sanara Belt had little choice but to accede to the surrender, since their ranks had been drained of all defenses when the Confederacy had made its last stand at Anumet. A handful of high-ranking generals had survived Anumet but as was in the customs of war that no amount of compassion or benevolence could permit, they were put to the sword quickly and with mercy. The executions had disturbed Aragorn greatly, Legolas knew but the king of Gondor could not afford to assume half measures now that he had conquered a country and brought about an end to the war. It was thing to end the fighting but quite another to ensure that peace could be maintained and to that end, those sacrifices had to be made.
The Easterling leader and his Variag counterpart were allowed to return home with what was left of their armies, which was to say very little. Both were issued a warning that Gondor was watching and less they wished their respective lands to be annexed as Haradwraith had been, they would be wise to desist in any attempts at aggression. As it was, the terms of their surrender required the Easterlings and the Variags to return immediately to their territories and surrender all lands taken from the Bors in their wars with the people of the Sunlands. The two leaders had protested but had little choice but to accept the terms since they were clearly in a position of disadvantage.
Following the departure of the Variags and the Easterlings, with a healthy portion of Bors warriors ensuring they crossed into their borders without any resurgence of defiance, Aragorn and the Ruling Council turned its attention to the newly acquired province of Haradwraith.
Legolas studied the skyline beyond the domed palace and had to confess seeing the beauty that Faramir described so vividly upon his return from this city. There was an exotic texture about it, an amalgamation of cultures that produced a visual feast of color that was somewhat surprising in a land surrounded by desert. He and Gimli had explored the city this morning, mindful that the people of Mahazar after hearing tales of Axinar and the rest of the villages in the Barrens, still expected to be slaughtered by the First Born. His purpose for moving among them was to show them that they were safe from murdering elves and to diffuse their fears as much as possible.
He found a city of incredible diversity, once one was able to look beneath the fear in everyone's eyes. From the colorful bazaars, to the eclectic flotilla of trading boats on the Sanara River, Mahazar was very much like Minas Tirith and yet uniquely different as well. As Legolas walked through the paved streets, breathing in the unfamiliar spices and scents, he wished more than ever that Melia was here with him. More and more, his eye was turning to the east and he knew that even when matters in Mahazar were settled, he would still have one bit of unfinished business to deal with.
But not yet.
Legolas turned away from the window upon Aragorn's arrival in the throne room of the Haradrim palace. The Elfstone cut an impressive figure as he approached the seat of Haradrim power clad in the regalia expected of a conquering king. With Anduril sheathed in its scabbard at his hip and flanked by Faramir and Imrahil who were presenting the fiefs of Ithilien and Dol Amroth, Aragorn took the throne before the entire court of Haradwraith. Eomer and Kirin as the other leaders of their country were placed in a seat of similar honor but it was clear that the king of the Reunified Kingdom was the master of the floor. Legolas drew a deep breath and took his place at this elite gathering, Haldir to one side and Gimli at the other.
Before them was what remained of Haradwraith's ministers, the ones who had chose to remain instead of fleeing what they were certain would be death at the hands of the new regime. These were men who loved their country, who were willing to remain despite the possibility of death, who could no more abandon their homes as any ranker could turn away from Gondor in its time of need. The Prime Minister, a man called Yurien, stood before the Ruling council, prepared to argue what concessions he could gain for Haradrim sovereignty, such as it was.
Standing next to him was Dalan, the Crown Prince of Haradwraith and Dallanar's only son.
The boy had been recaptured following the battle of Anumet, one of the handful of survivors following that fierce battle. Dalan had come through the ordeal a little stronger Legolas noted. The fear that he had seen in the boy's eyes was better hidden if not diminished altogether. He held his head high and his countenance did not speak of defeat but rather of pride and dignity. Did he acquire that trait from Dallanar, Legolas wondered.
"Firstly," Aragorn broke the overwhelming silence of the room, "we will discuss the disposition of Prince Dalan."
Legolas saw the boy stiffening and the mood in the throne room already tense, became even more taut as all eyes fixed upon the king and the young prince respectively.
"It is customary in such circumstances that the first born son of any defeated or deposed king be put to death as a deterrent for future acts of aggression where he may be used as a rallying cry of opposition," Aragorn began. Legolas could see Dalan's strength began to falter but he did an admirable job of maintaining a composed face. Yurien at his side however, appeared resigned that the boy's death as an inevitability.
"However," Aragorn replied, sweeping his gaze not only across the court of Haradwraith but also his comrades in arms and in particular Legolas, "at the behest of Lord Legolas of Eden Ardhon, representative of Eryn Lasgalen and Lorien, I have chosen to commute the sentence of death to exile. You and your family will be expatriated to the Sunlands where you will live under the supervision of the Bors. You will not be allowed to return to Haradwraith and should you attempt to do so, we will assume it as a violation of the terms of surrender and the traditional sentence shall hold."
Yurien let out a deep exhale and Legolas guessed that it was likely that the Prime Minister held some affection for the young man as evidenced by the relief on his face at Aragorn's decree. Indeed the court of Haradrim were similarly astonished by the order, for such mercy would have been unheard of were it Dallanar occupying the throne. Legolas had needed very little effort to convince Aragorn to give the young man his life because Aragorn was too noble a man to condone bloodshed of one so young despite the demands of tradition.
"We thank the king for his mercy," Yurien spoke for the first time.
"There has been enough bloodshed in this land," Aragorn answered him with sympathy. "Let us not begin this new page with the murder of a child. Does this suit you young Dalan?" He turned to the Prince, "or will you prefer to join your father in death?"
Dalan blinked, not expecting to be addressed directly. As it was, the young man appeared rather stunned that he was being allowed to live.
"I am the head of my household if no longer a prince," Dalan answered, his voice shaking and his eyes never meeting Aragorn's, "I still have responsibility to my mother and my sisters. I shall accept exile if it means I can care for them."
"You have made a good choice young one," Aragorn answered with a smile, "go in peace."
Faramir had only to nod at Beregond before the Captain of Ithilien, who along with the troops under his command had taken sentry position in the room, marched forward and whisked the young man to his fate.
Once Dalan was ferried away, Aragorn turned his attention to the Prime Minister for their business was far from done. Aragorn had no wish to rule in Haradwraith but there were realities he was forced to deal with, precautions he had to take in order to protect the Reunified Kingdom and its allies. What happened at Lebethron, Edoras, Lossarnach, Ithilien and Eden Ardhon would not be repeated again, of this he was absolute. The cycle of hatred had to end and if it required him acting with a little more benevolence than was required of a conquering army, then so be it.
"Prime Minister Yurien," Aragorn met the man's eyes, "that you chose to remain when so many of your ministers have fled leads me to believe that the fate of your country is more important to you than your safety."
"This is my home," Yurien said firmly in perfect Westron, "I was born here and if necessary I will die here."
"I am appointing a governor to this realm," Aragorn stated, getting to the heart of the matter quickly. "He will sit in charge of one thousand Gondorian rankers and four hundred Rohirrim cavalrymen who have volunteered to remain in Haradwraith. This presence will also be supported by a further one thousand troops from the Tribe of Bors and three hundred elven archers."
A low hiss moved through the court but Aragorn continued speaking for this matter had been discussed by the ruling council before this day and to the others who had no part in the process, the decision was not theirs to debate, merely accept.
"Word has been sent to him in Gondor and he will be arriving shortly, I wish you to act as his counsel, Prime Minister Yurien," Aragorn declared.
Yurien's eyes widened. "How can you trust me?"
"I do not and I am certain neither will he," Aragorn retorted. "Trust is something that has to be earned and if he for one instant, believes that you are attempting to subvert the initiative of a peaceful coexistence, he has my full authority to separate your head from your body. Is that clear?"
"Perfectly," Yurien answered needing no further clarification.
"The governor will arrive here with grain, surplus grain that Gondor has kept in its granaries when our harvests have been particularly bountiful. That grain will be brought to Mahazar and distributed throughout the Sanara Belt and the Barrens. He will also bring with him some of our best agricultural minds that may be able to aid your efforts to grow grain. His first order of business will be to feed your people, something I am sad to say Dallanar has been ill in accomplishing during his reign."
Once again, the court of the Haradrim were uncertain of how to accept such a magnanimous offer and a ripple swept through the faces of those present.
"This governor," Yurien finally asked, "who shall it be?"
"Erchirion of Dol Amroth, second born of Lord Imrahil," Aragorn glanced briefly at the Prince who had been rather stunned when Aragorn had brought up the matter with him. As second born, Erchirion would always live in the shadow of his older brother and both siblings had been acquitting themselves admirably in the defense of Gondor during the Desert Campaigns. "He is a fine warrior and has learned a good deal of diplomacy from his father who is an expert in the subject. He will oversee the interests of the Reunified Kingdom in Haradwraith and ensure that there will be peace among our people. Perhaps in time, you can see that we are not your enemy and can be trusted to govern yourselves."
That day was many years away, Legolas thought as Aragorn made that statement not only to Yurien but to all the Haradrim present. It would take longer than Aragorn's lifetime and Legolas was certain that the elves would be but a memory before that day arrived but he was confident that it would come.
The world was if anything, patient.
************
"You are going?" Aragorn spoke to Legolas several days after that fateful meeting in Mahazar.
They had been occupying the palace since their arrival in the city though Legolas never truly felt comfortable residing in the home of his enemy, even if that nemesis was one of countless bodies that had been buried at Mahazar. There was still a good deal to go but Aragorn and the rest of the Ruling Council appeared to have it all in hand. The army would not depart these lands until Erchirion arrived and Aragorn was reasonably confident that Haradwraith was in good hands. That journey would take weeks from Gondor, certainly long enough for Legolas to slip away and deal with affairs of his own.
"For a time," Legolas nodded as they stood in the hallway leading to the main entrance of the palace. "You know why."
"I do," Aragorn replied understanding completely. As his friend, Aragorn was glad that Legolas was at last making this important journey to secure his future though as king, he was grateful that the elf had continued his presence as a member of the Ruling Council and the commander of the elven army. Legolas had been instrumental in convincing the elves that it was necessary that some of them remain behind to maintain the peace in Haradwraith. Those who chose to take up this duty had done so out of a genuine curiosity over this part of Middle Earth and were eager to explore the lands that were suddenly open to them after so long.
"I shall not be away for long," Legolas answered, clutching the hand that reached for his shoulder in a show of warmth and affection. "I promise I will return when you and the others begin the journey home."
"I shall hold you to that," Aragorn said with a smile.
Legolas started to turn away when suddenly, he paused. This exchange was fraught with far more emotion than he thought possible and the need to speak his mind suddenly became overwhelming. He turned around and met Aragorn's gaze.
"I would not be making this journey if it were not for your friendship Estel," Legolas said quietly. "You have endured much of late being my friend and I wish you to know that I shall not forget it."
Aragorn swallowed the lump of emotion in his throat, dropping his gaze because it was not a thing between men to show so much sentiment even when it was so heartfelt. "You would have done the same for me."
"Perhaps," Legolas answered, "but not without as much patience, I wager. I was ready to kill him and if it were not for your words, I would have done so but you were right about everything and it shames me to think that I could not learn in three millennia what it has taken you less than a century to understand."
"The privileges of mortality," Aragorn shrugged. "You have nothing to be ashamed of Legolas. For all my preaching, for all my advice, I cannot truly say how I would have been if it were Arwen who had been harmed in such manner. I do not think any man who loves a woman as much as you love Melia can ever be certain of their actions when confronted with what you were forced to endure."
"It will not leave me for a long time what I have done in this land," Legolas replied, his eyes moving across the room as if he could see through the walls into the world beyond it. "For all the reasons that I felt justified, there will still be a mark of blood upon me that no amount of time will ever erase."
"Perhaps it is not meant to be," Aragorn answered as Legolas started to break away and resume his departure. "Ride well my friend. I look to the east for your return."
Legolas nodded shortly before disappearing down the corridor.
************
He had no more descended the path that led to the stable when he saw Gimli waiting for him at the foot of the steps. Legolas slowed as he approached the dwarf, noting quickly that Gimli was dressed for travel.
"It is about time you arrived," Gimli grumbled in annoyance, his eyes shifting briefly to the morning sky. "We are going to lose the morning thanks to your tardiness."
"We?" Legolas stared at him.
"Well you do not think I am letting you ride all the way to the Sunlands alone?" Gimli stared at Legolas as if he were an infant and not a three thousand year old elf.
"I suppose there is no way I can convince you to remain here," Legolas met the dwarf's gaze with amusement and affection. As much as Aragorn's friendship had helped him through this, Legolas could not forget the part Gimli had played either. He was fortunate to be blessed with such friends and did not have it in his heart to turn the dwarf away since Legolas could ask for no better travelling companion.
"No," Gimli retorted turning on his heels and resuming the walk to the stables. "So you had better become accustomed to me being at your side. I intend to see to it that you do not get into any trouble. Aule's knows that is feat alone will keep me occupied for the next hundred and twenty years."
"And probably beyond," Legolas grinned, not minding the possibility at all.
.
*************
Author's Note.
This is not betaed yet, so my apologies for the typos. A betaed version will be along in a couple of days.
Naur Na innas—Fire at will
Ad—Again
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