Chapter 6

Stranger

That night, as she sat in the cover of a rogue rock outcropping, Lasca remembered Pallando's gift: Westron.  Tentatively she started talking softly, wondering how in Middle Earth she was supposed to be able to automatically speak a language she had known not a word of the day before. 

At first she spoke random thoughts, telling herself that she hoped bandits wouldn't find her; that she hoped her water lasted.  She went on for some time, finally giving up frustratedly, for she was growing drowsy.  As she lay down, wrapped in her cloak, thoughts of the night before and that morning were streaming through her head.  Suddenly she seemed to hit a mental block.  Uncertainly, she prodded it with her mind.  Slowly it began to dissolve, releasing streams of knowledge that flowed in a torrent.  At first she was scared, and tried to block the sudden rush of too much information.  Eventually, her mental strength weakened, and she let smaller streams pour into her mind. 

That morning her head had felt sore and swollen.  Groaning she sat up, shading her eyes from the glaring sun peeking over the horizon.  Cautiously she looked into her mind, remembering last night.  It seemed to her that the flood of knowledge had calmed, and all that remained was a deep pool, unknown and mysterious.  Slowly she reached for it, and began to speak once more.  At first it came out as her native language, but as her consciousness dipped into the deep pool, foreign words began to emerge from her lips.  Startled, she stopped talking.  The new language seemed choppier than the tongue of her homeland that flowed like the desert sand.  She spoke once more, now recalling a tale Pallando had told her, and dipped into the pool.  Again she spoke that tongue, marveling that she understood it, though many of the sounds were strange on her lips, and she struggled to speak them.  After a light meal of dates and water that she shared with Malak, she prepared to set out on her course once more, all the time speaking Westron to herself, fascinated by her new knowledge.

That evening, she came in sight of the Harad Road.  A sense of relief swept over her.  Riding out alone on the formless desert with nothing but the distant sun to guide her made her uneasy.  She slowed Malak down to an easy walk as they went up the road.  The sun was sinking in the West, and Lasca was anxious to find any sort of cover.  Just as night came, she saw a small oasis along the path.  Eagerly Malak pulled towards it, and Lasca gave the mare her head. 

Later on Lasca rested, sitting under a palm tree, Malak tethered nearby.  Suddenly the mare pricked her delicate ears and snorted, gazing across the water hole.  Lasca sat up as well, wondering what Malak had sensed.  As she stared across the water, she picked up movement among the few trees.  Dearly wishing she had a weapon of some kind (she had only remembered when she was far away from the camp), she slowly edged closer to Malak and stood up behind her, taking her head and soothing the nervous horse.  "Who's there?" she called warily, shaking with nerves.  Slowly a figure stepped out from behind a tree.

Though some yards away, Lasca could make him out fairly well in the moonlight.  He was little taller than her, and wore a long red overcoat, tattered white shirt, and loose white pants that were torn at the knee.  He also seemed to wear a white headdress.  Malak, startled, snorted and twisted her head, trying to get away.  Lasca struggled to hold her.  "Wh-who are you?" she asked.

"And why would I tell you?" the figure answered.

"How long have you been watching me?"

"Since you arrived."

"Why did you not reveal yourself before now?"

"How was I to trust you?"

At this Lasca paused before answering: "If you do not harm me tonight, I shall not harm you," she stated, praying that he didn't know she was unarmed.  He chuckled at her proposal.  His laugh sounded like a bark, and it sent shivers down Lasca's spine.

"A deal, eh?  Very well." With that he sat down at the foot of the nearest tree, and seemed to fall asleep immediately.

Warily Lasca lay down near the now calm Malak, willing herself to wake before the man did, for her pact only lasted the night.

The early morning did find Lasca awake, though she did not leave immediately.  Curiosity had again overcome her as she saw that the man was still sleeping, snoring quietly to her amusement.  She crept silently over to get a better look at him, and gasped: he wore no headdress.  His hair was pure white, messily cut around his head.  Long bangs fell over his eyes.  Amazingly his tanned face was not that of an aged man—it was that of a teenage boy barely into manhood.  As Lasca sat gaping at him, he woke, slowly opened his eyes, and saw her staring at him.  With a yell of surprise he scrambled away from her.  "What are you doing?!" he asked incredulously, gasping for breath after his scare.

"Er, I am sorry.  I just couldn't help but notice your hair is white, but you are still young—"

"How observant," he snorted in annoyance, standing up.  "You've only just pointed out what everyone that has seen me knows!" She glared at him, not appreciating his sarcasm.  "You're just like the bloody rest of them!" he went on, flinging his arm in a general direction.

"Do you say this to everyone you meet?" she questioned, annoyance in her voice.

"I'm not one for waking early," he replied, and then sighed.  "I suppose I should apologize…but I don't think I shall."

Lasca gaped at him.  "I think you do owe me an apology!  What kind of a person are you?"

"Not before you apologize for being a nosy little girl," he went on, a grin tugging on the corner of his mouth.

"Not in ten ages, you dolt," she stated icily.  He laughed.

"Well then, I suppose we agree then."

"Agree to what?"

"Agree to not apologize and be pompous fools, of course," he stated matter-of-factly, now with a grin spread across his face.  Lasca thought for a second, and started giggling.  "I said you were a little girl, and now you prove my point, giggling like that," he said.  She stopped abruptly, glaring at him again. 

"You are insufferable."

"As are you.  What is an insufferable little girl like you doing out here anyway?" Lasca was about to reply scathingly, but then got a better idea.  She rambled on about everything that had happened up to then.  Let him think me crazy.  Then perhaps he'll leave me be!

To her surprise (and horror) he seemed to believe her completely, asking questions and nodding sagely.  He was silent as she finished, dark eyes deep in thought.  She asked what he was thinking.

"For one thing, I am amazed to find someone else who knows the true stories, and who believes them," he paused.  "Your mother was right: there is no longer any honor to be found in Harad.  I have long known that sad truth."

"Why are you here?" Lasca asked, curious.  His troubled look was once again replaced by a wily smile.

"I am a wanderer of the world, my dear, er—"

"My name is Lasca.  Yours?" He paused, and for a second looked serious.

"…Call me Khalil."

"Are you saying that isn't your real name?"

"Perhaps.  Though for now that is enough.  Farther down the road you may learn more of me, if we survive."

"Uh, 'we'?"

"A fair maiden such as yourself should not travel unaccompanied on such a noble quest!"

"…You're mocking me."

"Of course."

"And I suppose you are the strong and handsome warrior?"

He grinned.  "You're learning."

A resounding slap was heard in the stillness of the desert morning.

+

I hope the Westron thing made sense ^^; I thought it would be really cliché if she could just automatically speak it perfectly (without having to try very hard).  And yes, yet another OC.  If you know what I'm talking about, base Khalil's looks on tomb-robber Bakura.  Sorry to everyone out there who wants to see more canon characters, but Lasca and Khalil have to get out of Harad first, and if I decide to kill them off in the middle of the desert…heh, don't worry, I'm not planning on it.  Hmmm, come to think of it, though, that might be an original twist…~_^

Also, if it isn't too much trouble, could you check out my oneshot fic?  Since I don't update it, it doesn't get reviews, and I would really like to know what people think of it.  Check under my bio.  Thanks!

Ainu Laire- Heh, don't worry, I don't think I shall.  I'm so glad you like them so much!  Writing OC characters can be nerve-wracking, especially trying to not make them self-inserts or Mary Sues.