((Author's Notes: Disclaimer: I do not own any of Tolkien's work. At All.
The other original characters, like mild mannered Khalim here, are MINE.
And I'm fiercely territorial. (A.) Italics are used in this section to
emphasize. (B.) Rangers? Corrupted? It's entirely possibly, don't you
think? (C.) Having a bit of a hard time getting the uploaded version of the
text to look like the way I have it saved. Forgive me if it looks a bit
odd. (D.) It has been brought to my attention that my settings weren't
allowing anonymous feedback. (This I was not aware of) So I've fixed the
problem. Have at it, mates.))
Shinigami **************************************************************************** *
A company of four men and a lone andalusian could be seen traversing the wilderness south of Mirkwood. They came from the Sea of Rhun, going South/Southwest towards Mordor, where they skirted the Ash Mountains, and headed due West, crossed the River Anduin, and made camp upon the delta of the River Entwash. Eyes of elves and men had watched their procession with curiosity and wariness, though the caravan itself was unaware. And once the strangers clad wholly in black with silver and ivory pommelled daggers and swords slung low against their hips crossed into the territory of Rohan, a host of Rangers and Mirkwood elves that had gathered to silently track and follow the caravan immediately alerted Edoras of their presence.
Once upon the dark silt deposited shores of the delta, the men pitched their meager black tents in a semicircle facing East, and built a low fire in the center of what was to be their camp for the night. The fire was a first, it was a luxury they could not afford on the long journey so close to Mordor, for though the Shadow had fallen, many evil creatures still lingered and would have been drawn to a fire's light. Sensing a greater safety on the western side of the river, they chanced the warmth of its glow, and three of the men went out into the neighboring woods to find game. One, Khalim, remained to guard the camp, and he took this opportunity to remove the saddle and bridle from the andalusian, who's thick white hide was in so stark a contrast to the black clothing of the Easterlings, and rub his flanks with a bit of dried riverstalks as the sun set.
"Have we any idea what this is that we're eating?"
"Well," answered Falsam, the youth to Khalsim's side, rotating the spit upon which was skewered an oddity with an alien quality to the Easterlings, "It surely doesn't appear to be poisonous." He laughed and added, "I'll take the first bite. If I don't keel over, you'll know it's safe!"
"I think not," chimed in Samir, another of the companions who busied himself boiling what was left of their rations of rice, "Or have you forgotten what an appetite Falsam has, Khalim? Ha! Enough to feed atleast two Oliophants!" They all of them laughed at the red faced Falsam, Khalim adding "If not three or more". Even Falsam was forced to laugh then.
Their cheer carried, unbeknownst to them, to the keen ears of the Rangers that hovered just beyond the firelight hiding behind the trees. Tonight would be the night that they planned to stop the caravan and discover the truth behind the mystery of their voyage. "Such laughter," one hissed to his neighbor, "Surely they laugh at some devious scheme they are conjuring". "Or worse," his neighbor replied, "perhaps they laugh at the memory of victims they've known before."
Slowly, the Rangers closed in on the wooded flanks of the caravan, while in the meantime the men of the camp amused themselves attempting to identify the calls of the many colored birds that sang to each other in the night air. The last of the rice was finished. The last of the bread that had long since gone hard was pitched into the campfire in disgust, and yet they were a cheery lot as they listened to Khalim's fascinating stories of the beasts and men of his world. As the twilight gathered and the campfire ebbed low, the companions filed into their tents and made ready for the night. The stallion stirred uneasily, pawing at the ground with his fore hooves and Samir paused, with his hand to his ear, and whispered to the Arab, "What kind of bird do you think would make so shrill a call?"
"I cannot say. I have never heard such a noise made by bird," he said, then nearly choked on his words as he barked out "Look! Behind you!"
The Easterlings, exhausted and hungry, were no match for the cloaked and hooded Rangers that formed a human wall before them but did not succeed in surrounding them. Khalim and the others lined together against the shore of the delta like shadows, pressed together with their curved swords gleaming in the moonlight. For a tense moment, each party waited for the other to make the first move, but when Khalim heard the order given for bows and arrows, he knew any resistance they might make would be in vain. With barbed arrows trained upon them, the caravan watched as a man came forward from the ranks of the Rangers and raised his hand as if prepared to signal the archers to fire. "Strike down these assassins! One less threat to the free peoples of middle earth!"
"Ho Whoa, whoa! We are no threats! We are no threats," he repeated himself as he slowly lowered his sword, gesturing for to the men behind to do the same, and whispering "Trust me". They complied if hesitatingly. "What threat can four men and a horse pose to any kingdom in just the fortnight we've been here?" Khalim asked of the sandy blonde haired man who lowered his arm and pushed back his hood.
"You speak the common tongue?" the man replied, apparently taken aback by Khalim's fluent use of Westron, "Speak quickly at tell me from what lands you hail!"
"We are men from the East of the Sea of Rhun-"
"Easterlings! Men of Sauron just as I suspected! Bind their hands and Search their belongings," ordered the man, aware of how the men behind Khalim raised their swords and eyed the cloaked men that came forward, arrows cocked in their bows and ready to fire down upon them, "Look for anything suspicious. Maps, letters, insignias of the vanquished enemy..."
"Wait! Yes, we are Easterlings, but not in the service of Evil!"
"You are armed-"
"Only fools would venture close to Mordor completely unarmed"
"Only fools would venture close to Mordor armed or no. Fools and Spies, the latter in your case, I suspect," the fair headed man said, his face a mask of suspicions as his men waited for his order, "Or would you have us to believe that a pack of Easterling wolves would come all this way merely for the pleasure of a camping trip? Nay, we are not so lackwitted as that." He nodded and his men continued to search through the caravan's packs and chests.
"Wait, if you would but listen... I am able to explain!"
The men paused again and waited to see what their captain's command would be. Obviously frustrated, he snarled "Fine. Hand over your weapons and explain yourselves. But be quick, and be warned I have little patience for nonsense."
Khalim nodded and turned to whisper to his wary companions in their own tongue. Though they grumbled and seemed to resist the idea, they grudgingly handed over their ornate weapons to the Rangers before them, who lowered their bows and stepped closer to seize them. Khalim turned to face the man that held their lives in his hands and began: "I am Khalim, the Arab. These men," he gestured to the men gathered behind him, "My companions and I have braved great peril to- "
"Treasure!" Came a cry from one of the Rangers inspecting their belongings, interrupting Khalim. There swiftly formed a huddle over one of the chests they managed to up-end. In it they found many scroll paintings and silk robes, packets containing they knew not what, and all manners of trinkets and statuettes. "Such treasures," another man added, holding up a fur and jeweled diadem for their leader's inspection. He brought it to the fire for better light as the Rangers surrounding the Easterlings aimed their arrows once more at the hearts of the men that watched the scene before them with incredulous eyes.
Khalim began to protest when his antagonist finally spoke. "What noble family did you rob of these before arriving here? Only a fortnight indeed-"
"For men that allegedly spied us crossing Mordor, have you seen us trespassing any conveniently placed palaces on the way? Those are not stolen, they are gifts from our lands. It is as I have been trying to tell you. We are here as ambassadors to the Kings of the West!" "Khalim?" Falsam nervously whispered when he heard the testiness in Khalim's voice, touching his sleeve with his hand.
"Ha! Ambassadors, indeed. More likely spies. Or come to beg the aid of the High King."
"What do you make of this, Captain?" asked one of the Ranger's men, holding for his perusal a map that charted a course around Mordor that crossed the River Anduin just short of Ithilien and cut through Rohan, headed straight for Minas Tirith.
"There's no point in bothering his Majesty over this. Since they are in Rohan land at the moment, we'll hail some of the horsemen and 'escort' them to the King of the Riddermark," he grinned and tossed the diadem back onto the pile of goods amassed from the Easterlings, "How fortunate that we happened to cross your path. You will be forthright taken to the court of the king of this land upon which you stand, as you intended. And your goods here will be accepted by men of the West." he laughed along with the other Rangers, ".Just as you intended. Bind their hands."
"Khalim," murmured Samir, "The gifts! We should stop them-"
"No," sighed Khalim "Let it go. We would be killed. It is not worth our lives."
Shinigami **************************************************************************** *
A company of four men and a lone andalusian could be seen traversing the wilderness south of Mirkwood. They came from the Sea of Rhun, going South/Southwest towards Mordor, where they skirted the Ash Mountains, and headed due West, crossed the River Anduin, and made camp upon the delta of the River Entwash. Eyes of elves and men had watched their procession with curiosity and wariness, though the caravan itself was unaware. And once the strangers clad wholly in black with silver and ivory pommelled daggers and swords slung low against their hips crossed into the territory of Rohan, a host of Rangers and Mirkwood elves that had gathered to silently track and follow the caravan immediately alerted Edoras of their presence.
Once upon the dark silt deposited shores of the delta, the men pitched their meager black tents in a semicircle facing East, and built a low fire in the center of what was to be their camp for the night. The fire was a first, it was a luxury they could not afford on the long journey so close to Mordor, for though the Shadow had fallen, many evil creatures still lingered and would have been drawn to a fire's light. Sensing a greater safety on the western side of the river, they chanced the warmth of its glow, and three of the men went out into the neighboring woods to find game. One, Khalim, remained to guard the camp, and he took this opportunity to remove the saddle and bridle from the andalusian, who's thick white hide was in so stark a contrast to the black clothing of the Easterlings, and rub his flanks with a bit of dried riverstalks as the sun set.
"Have we any idea what this is that we're eating?"
"Well," answered Falsam, the youth to Khalsim's side, rotating the spit upon which was skewered an oddity with an alien quality to the Easterlings, "It surely doesn't appear to be poisonous." He laughed and added, "I'll take the first bite. If I don't keel over, you'll know it's safe!"
"I think not," chimed in Samir, another of the companions who busied himself boiling what was left of their rations of rice, "Or have you forgotten what an appetite Falsam has, Khalim? Ha! Enough to feed atleast two Oliophants!" They all of them laughed at the red faced Falsam, Khalim adding "If not three or more". Even Falsam was forced to laugh then.
Their cheer carried, unbeknownst to them, to the keen ears of the Rangers that hovered just beyond the firelight hiding behind the trees. Tonight would be the night that they planned to stop the caravan and discover the truth behind the mystery of their voyage. "Such laughter," one hissed to his neighbor, "Surely they laugh at some devious scheme they are conjuring". "Or worse," his neighbor replied, "perhaps they laugh at the memory of victims they've known before."
Slowly, the Rangers closed in on the wooded flanks of the caravan, while in the meantime the men of the camp amused themselves attempting to identify the calls of the many colored birds that sang to each other in the night air. The last of the rice was finished. The last of the bread that had long since gone hard was pitched into the campfire in disgust, and yet they were a cheery lot as they listened to Khalim's fascinating stories of the beasts and men of his world. As the twilight gathered and the campfire ebbed low, the companions filed into their tents and made ready for the night. The stallion stirred uneasily, pawing at the ground with his fore hooves and Samir paused, with his hand to his ear, and whispered to the Arab, "What kind of bird do you think would make so shrill a call?"
"I cannot say. I have never heard such a noise made by bird," he said, then nearly choked on his words as he barked out "Look! Behind you!"
The Easterlings, exhausted and hungry, were no match for the cloaked and hooded Rangers that formed a human wall before them but did not succeed in surrounding them. Khalim and the others lined together against the shore of the delta like shadows, pressed together with their curved swords gleaming in the moonlight. For a tense moment, each party waited for the other to make the first move, but when Khalim heard the order given for bows and arrows, he knew any resistance they might make would be in vain. With barbed arrows trained upon them, the caravan watched as a man came forward from the ranks of the Rangers and raised his hand as if prepared to signal the archers to fire. "Strike down these assassins! One less threat to the free peoples of middle earth!"
"Ho Whoa, whoa! We are no threats! We are no threats," he repeated himself as he slowly lowered his sword, gesturing for to the men behind to do the same, and whispering "Trust me". They complied if hesitatingly. "What threat can four men and a horse pose to any kingdom in just the fortnight we've been here?" Khalim asked of the sandy blonde haired man who lowered his arm and pushed back his hood.
"You speak the common tongue?" the man replied, apparently taken aback by Khalim's fluent use of Westron, "Speak quickly at tell me from what lands you hail!"
"We are men from the East of the Sea of Rhun-"
"Easterlings! Men of Sauron just as I suspected! Bind their hands and Search their belongings," ordered the man, aware of how the men behind Khalim raised their swords and eyed the cloaked men that came forward, arrows cocked in their bows and ready to fire down upon them, "Look for anything suspicious. Maps, letters, insignias of the vanquished enemy..."
"Wait! Yes, we are Easterlings, but not in the service of Evil!"
"You are armed-"
"Only fools would venture close to Mordor completely unarmed"
"Only fools would venture close to Mordor armed or no. Fools and Spies, the latter in your case, I suspect," the fair headed man said, his face a mask of suspicions as his men waited for his order, "Or would you have us to believe that a pack of Easterling wolves would come all this way merely for the pleasure of a camping trip? Nay, we are not so lackwitted as that." He nodded and his men continued to search through the caravan's packs and chests.
"Wait, if you would but listen... I am able to explain!"
The men paused again and waited to see what their captain's command would be. Obviously frustrated, he snarled "Fine. Hand over your weapons and explain yourselves. But be quick, and be warned I have little patience for nonsense."
Khalim nodded and turned to whisper to his wary companions in their own tongue. Though they grumbled and seemed to resist the idea, they grudgingly handed over their ornate weapons to the Rangers before them, who lowered their bows and stepped closer to seize them. Khalim turned to face the man that held their lives in his hands and began: "I am Khalim, the Arab. These men," he gestured to the men gathered behind him, "My companions and I have braved great peril to- "
"Treasure!" Came a cry from one of the Rangers inspecting their belongings, interrupting Khalim. There swiftly formed a huddle over one of the chests they managed to up-end. In it they found many scroll paintings and silk robes, packets containing they knew not what, and all manners of trinkets and statuettes. "Such treasures," another man added, holding up a fur and jeweled diadem for their leader's inspection. He brought it to the fire for better light as the Rangers surrounding the Easterlings aimed their arrows once more at the hearts of the men that watched the scene before them with incredulous eyes.
Khalim began to protest when his antagonist finally spoke. "What noble family did you rob of these before arriving here? Only a fortnight indeed-"
"For men that allegedly spied us crossing Mordor, have you seen us trespassing any conveniently placed palaces on the way? Those are not stolen, they are gifts from our lands. It is as I have been trying to tell you. We are here as ambassadors to the Kings of the West!" "Khalim?" Falsam nervously whispered when he heard the testiness in Khalim's voice, touching his sleeve with his hand.
"Ha! Ambassadors, indeed. More likely spies. Or come to beg the aid of the High King."
"What do you make of this, Captain?" asked one of the Ranger's men, holding for his perusal a map that charted a course around Mordor that crossed the River Anduin just short of Ithilien and cut through Rohan, headed straight for Minas Tirith.
"There's no point in bothering his Majesty over this. Since they are in Rohan land at the moment, we'll hail some of the horsemen and 'escort' them to the King of the Riddermark," he grinned and tossed the diadem back onto the pile of goods amassed from the Easterlings, "How fortunate that we happened to cross your path. You will be forthright taken to the court of the king of this land upon which you stand, as you intended. And your goods here will be accepted by men of the West." he laughed along with the other Rangers, ".Just as you intended. Bind their hands."
"Khalim," murmured Samir, "The gifts! We should stop them-"
"No," sighed Khalim "Let it go. We would be killed. It is not worth our lives."