Chapter 8
Resolve
A/N: dialogue in brackets [] is spoken in Westron.
Lasca woke that morning to the sound of rushing water. Confused, she sat up and looked around. As she took in her surroundings, the events of the night before came rushing back. She stood up and stretched, arms still sore. Lying on the other side of a peacefully grazing Malak was Khalil still fast asleep. Irritably she walked over and kicked him a couple times before he woke with a start. "'Ey! Whawhudatfurr…?" he muttered incoherently as he sat up, rubbing his side.
"Get up! We should leave before another bunch of thieves finds us. Here," she tossed a couple dates to him.
"Do we have anything besides dates?" he wrinkled his nose at the now staple food.
"'We?' No, I think it's still 'you and I,'" she snapped as she bridled Malak. Khalil was startled by her outburst.
"What brought this on?"
Lasca stopped fumbling with the straps and turned to him. "How long until you leave? How should I trust you, when you left your own family?"
"Ah, so that's it," he sighed. "Listen, I promise I won't go off on my own, on one condition."
"What's that?"
"I ride Malak too. My feet are quite sore," he answered, a grin on his face. Lasca forced herself to smile back before turning around.
Lasca finally broke the awkward silence as they rode northward through wasteland. There was only rock outcroppings and sparse brush as far as the eye could see. "Where exactly are we, anyway?"
"We are in the far south of the realm of Gondor."
"You mean we are in foreign land?"
"Yes. The River Harnen is Harad's northern border. We best keep watch for armed companies, both Sauron's and Northern Men."
"I supposed neither would welcome us."
"Precisely."
Silence, save the dull pounding of Malak's hooves.
"…Have you ever been to northern Gondor?"
"Yes, though quite a while back. I have been to their capital city, Minas Tirith. We will want to head there, for that is where the main seat of power of Men is."
"Who is the king?"
"The last of the Kings of Men perished long ago. Now only the Steward is left."
"I suppose we must go to him, then."
Khalil snorted. "Your blind optimism is amusing. I have seen the Steward before. He is a venerable old man, and bitter. He will not listen to us."
Lasca was becoming frustrated. "Then what shall we do?"
"Sauron means to destroy the world of Men. He will strike the White City first. If there is a remaining heir to the throne, he shall reveal himself there. That is where we may also find your father."
Lasca started. She had nearly forgotten her other mission. "Yes…we will go to Minas Tirith."
Khalil paused. "You said something about being able to speak Westron. Is that true?"
"Yes; Pallando bestowed it upon me. Listen." Concentrating on the pool in her mind, slowly she began to speak. "[Therefore I say: Eä! Let these things Be! And I will send forth into the Void the Flame Imperishable…]" she stopped. "Well, that's as far as I can remember."
Behind her Khalil slowly clapped. "Not bad at all. You just need to work on your accent."
"You know Westron?"
"Quite a bit. You need to, in order to haggle with merchants up at Pelargir. The first phrase I learned was 'That is a rip-off, you son-of-bitch.'" For the first time in a long while, Lasca laughed feely.
"Perhaps that phrase would be useful when talking to the Steward."
Khalil chuckled. "If you want to be thrown in a dungeon, of course. But in all honesty, what are you planning to do?"
Lasca set her face. "The only thing I can do: beg for pardon."
"Pardon for what?"
"The Nirnaeth."
Khalil's countenance was grave. "It was called the Battle of Unnumbered Tears for no light reason. The cowardice of Men is not forgotten."
"I know in my heart there is naught else I can do for my people. If the Valar are with us, as you say, then there is still hope."
They went on up the road for several days, passing a couple caravans on the way. From them they gathered news of Sauron's massing forces in the North. The merchants said that it would only be a matter of time before Minas Tirith was under siege. With this news they hurried onward, lest legions of orcs and evil Men bar their way into the White City.
On the fifth evening they sat in the cover of a particularly large scrub bush. As they ate dried meat bartered from the merchants, an unearthly screech rent the air. Malak began to whinny and scream in fear, eyes rolling in her skull. Fiercely she wrenched out her picket stake and tore across the plain. Neither Lasca nor Khalil made any move to stop her, for they were frozen in terror. They dared not move. Lasca's heart beat a frantic tattoo in her ear. Her eyes were locked on the crescent moon in the sky. The screech sounded again, this time accompanied with the far-off beat of powerful wings. It seemed to Lasca that a shadow passed overhead, and as it blocked out the moon, dread and fear gripped her heart. She longed to crawl into a hole and simply die, to leave the pain and terror behind.
As soon as It came, however, It left, as did the dread It brought. Lasca gasped for air, feeling as though she had been holding her breath for an eternity. Beside her Khalil did the same, clutching his chest. They looked at each other, fear reflecting in their wide eyes. They did not speak for the remainder of the night.
That morning Malak returned unscathed, calm as ever and looking for breakfast. The meal was silent, for It still crept in the back of their minds. Only as the high noon sun shone down on them did they feel far enough beyond the dark to speak of It. Khalil began. "That thing last night…it…it was no earthly creature." He finished lamely.
"Do you have any idea what it was?"
"I have my guesses. At any rate, it is a servant of the Dark Lord."
"I heard a sinister voice…it was saying my father was…he was slain. And Harad was doomed. Everyone was dead. I saw a great battle in my mind…A great host, armor shining is the sun, was fighting against orcs and beasts of flame, against great wolves…but above the din all I could hear was derisive laughter, evil and cutting. Suddenly I saw a hill…but it was not of earth…no…it was a hill of cruelly slain Men and Elves. I—I could see their fair faces, contorted with pain and grief. Some seemed to be whispering…cursing the treacherous Men so that they shall never be redeemed." She fell silent.
"I too saw something, though I have not the heart to speak of it."
"Do you think it foretells the future?" Lasca asked quietly.
"Nay; by no design can the Dark Lord see what is to come. He can only show others what he wishes to befall them, so they shrink in fear and despair."
"How are you so sure?"
"You were not the only one to have met an Istari."
"You have seen Pallando?"
"No; I have met two others, and one I fear is dead, though the other highly unlikely." He replied, then stopped, seeming to have a revelation. "Perhaps if we find him, he shall help us!" he laughed suddenly, as one who sees the new dawn. "Lasca, there is hope yet!"
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Sorry, I know it's short, but I really have to get studying! R/R, please ^^
Ainu Laire- Since it is obvious, let me say that you are correct ^^ I'm glad you liked these two chapters! To tell you the truth, I kinda wrote them not knowing what would happen (ex- "Hm, a Nazgûl would be cool…yeah, I think I'll do that!") However, I do know what is going to happen at most key points, and basically how I want it to end.
BoromirDefender: Thanks for reviewing, and I do hope you'll stick around for more! By the way, as a huge fan of both Faramir and Boromir, let me just say that I love your pen name. Leggy-poo may have looks, but those two have a little something called personality ^^
Hioga-chan- Yeah, I'd say Khalil's about 17-18. I'm using "several" as meaning at least more than four. I'd say he left his family at 12, perhaps taking up with a passing traveler. Sorry about all the generalizations ^^;
Jen Littlebottom- He's a sweetie? Well, come to think of it, I guess he is ^^ I'm too caught up in making him non-self insert to notice ^^;
Tarock- Do you know about what year Gandalf was down there? Unfortunately, I haven't gotten to read Unfinished Tales and I really want to, but I am reading the History of Middle Earth and have finished Lost Tales (both volumes), and I'm using an element from them for Khalil. I'll give those out there who've read them a hint—what did Eriol/Aelfwine say he was "born under?" It may explain a certain peculiarity…but if you know, please don't review with the answer! E-mail me if you think you're right. Also, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don't worry about Lasca turning Mary Sue! I hate them with a passion!
Queenieb- Thanks! I hate
infrequent updates too ^^ I'll warn you now that chapters might come slower
this week due to midterms (bleah) and other stupid school stuff. About the other Istar…*devious look*…can't
tell ya! ~_^
