Chapter 13

Hope

A/N: Okay, the site's being evil and not showing my brackets, so Westron is in parenthesis ( ) now.

As soon as the words escaped his lips, Khalil wanted to take them back. Why would they listen to him, a mere boy, especially now in the middle of a war that would decide the fate of Men?

Silence prevailed. As the boy and girl from Harad stood waiting for their doom, two identical figures stepped out from the shadows. They were tall and very fair, both with long dark hair, and gray eyes.

"(Do you know the weight of your request?)" Said one.

Lasca thought she was looking on Elves. She was awed, but a sudden courage seemed to swell inside her, having seen Khalil speak. "(We do, having heard the full tale of the Nirnaeth from the Blue Wizards. We are deeply grieved for what transpired; though we also know we cannot choose our heritage. This burden of guilt has long been ours, thrust on us by our ancestors who were cowardly and weak.)"

"(I see no change in either the Southrons or the Easterlings, who marched on us this very day, killing many of our brave men.)" Retorted Halbarad.

Lasca met his eyes. "(Then you have obviously not seen the barren desert we are forced to dwell in. No crops grow there, and the only sources of water and food are scattered in puny oases, hardly enough to feed the hundreds of tribes. I have not seen a year go by without wars and skirmishes. Sauron promised us the lands of the North, should we aid him.)"

"(To trust Sauron is folly,)" one man spit.

"(I do not doubt that,)" replied Khalil. "(However, the small chance that their families may have a better life led many men to aid him.)"

"(My own father went, and now lies slain on this field. In truth you were not fighting them. You were fighting Sauron through innocents tricked by pretty promises.)" Lasca began blinking furiously to keep back her tears.

"(She speaks truthfully. I see both Alatar and Pallando have not failed.)" Gandalf stepped over to Lasca. "(I commend you for coming this far on a quest you were hardly sure would succeed. However, as Khalil knows, now is not the time to discuss these matters; we still have not won this war. I would have you stay in the City for the time being, and shall escort you to my chambers. Come.)"

Khalil made to follow them, but Gandalf stopped him. "(Stay, boy, and listen.)"

The next morning, Lasca woke, finding herself in a rather comfortable bed, staring up at a white stone ceiling. She started, but then the whirlwind events of last night hit her. After stepping outside the tent, she had mounted Malak and Gandalf mounted a white stallion, the most magnificent she had ever seen. He told her this was Shadowfax, the Lord of the Horses. Lasca did not doubt his title.

As they rode in the darkness, she was thankful for the cloak someone had lent her. Soon they approached what looked like the remains of huge wooden doors. Guards halted them, but upon seeing Gandalf, hastily let them in. Even in the gloom, Lasca was awed by the sheer size of Minas Tirith. She had never been in any city before (the largest town she had seen had been Pelargir). She found that they were zigzagging up and up the different levels.

Finally they reached Gandalf's lodgings. After handing Malak off to a waiting stable boy, Gandalf led her into the house and up to the second level. Lasca found herself trailing behind Gandalf not for weariness, but because she wanted to look at everything in the strange dwelling. When they reached her room, Gandalf sat down with her and asked about their journey. She began when Pallando came to their village. When Lasca finally came to that night, she felt as if she had been talking for hours. Gandalf had not interrupted her. She had asked him what was going to happen, but he told her to sleep and it would be discussed in the morning.

"You awake?" questioned a voice from her doorway. She looked and saw Khalil leaning against it.

"Where did you get that?" Lasca exclaimed, for Khalil no longer wore his tattered clothes she met him in. The morning sun glinted off beautiful silver chain mail on his arms and an embroidered silver tree on his dark blue shirt.

"Well, now that I'm officially an ally, I have to wear this to show it. Here, Gandalf sent this for you." He tossed her a bundled-up dress of the same blue as his shirt. Lasca fingered the fabric, and found it stiffer than her own clothes. "Well, are you going to try it on?" asked Khalil. Lasca gave him a dark look.

"Oh yes, I believe I'll strip down in front of you! Get out!" She shoved him out the door and closed it.

"Are you changed?" Khalil asked meekly a few minutes later. The door swung open to reveal Lasca in the dress, looking slightly perplexed.

"It fits, though I feel rather strange in it," she said, tugging at it.

"Ah, pretty as a picture!" said Khalil brightly. "Now come downstairs. Gandalf's waiting."

He led her down the hallway. "Er, Khalil?"

"What?"

"Do you really think I look fine?" Lasca asked quietly. He looked at her in surprise.

"Well, I do not know if I am a good judge of fashion, but to me you look perfectly fine. To be honest, I do not feel very comfortable in this either." He made a face. "After you left last night, I felt as if those men would have killed me at any time, had it not been for Gandalf. He may accept us, though we are still considered enemies by most in this land." He sighed and continued walking through the hallway and down the stairs.

"(Ah, there you are,)" Gandalf greeted them, puffing his pipe. "(Now come and sit, we have much to discuss.)"

He led them to a small table. Khalil began. "(Now sir, I beg you to be honest: if this war is won, have we any chance of pardon?)"

Gandalf puffed thoughtfully. "(There is always a chance, but a good chance? We have yet to see that. It will depend upon many things, not the least upon you two.

"(As you may have surmised from last night, Khalil, the Steward is dead, and his son is badly injured. I will tell you now that the son, Faramir, will be a great ally to you, for he has a compassionate heart. However, his word will carry less weight if the King of Men once again ascends the throne.

"(You saw him last night: he is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. To those who do not know him well, he may seem cold and distant, though underneath his weathered countenance lies a man rich in wisdom.)"

"(Will he be willing to listen to us?)" Asked Lasca.

"(Perhaps. Right now he looks often to me for guidance, but if he becomes King, he will have to look to his own heart and the will of his people.)"

Khalil was staring down at the table. "(The more I think about it, the more hopeless it seems. The only Haradrim most people have seen or heard of are the bloodthirsty warlords. They know not that for every one of them, there are numerous peaceful commoners.)"

"(They will probably think we are simply two exceptions,)" sighed Lasca. There was silence for a minute, save the sound of people walking and talking outside.

"(Perhaps, if you are the only two to speak out.)" Gandalf now looked at them with a new light in his eyes. "(If you were able to find others that wished to be pardoned, your words may carry more weight.)"

"(But the people who hold sway over the tribes' decisions are always the most ruthless,)" replied Lasca, remembering her own tribe's leader. Suddenly Khalil laughed out loud.

"(But what about this battle that just happened? No doubt those who love war and killing came to fight, and now more than likely lie slain.)"

"(Indeed, the Haradrim's coming may have been both a curse and a blessing: many innocents were killed, but many who are evil were killed as well.)" added Gandalf. Lasca was quiet.

"(Yes,)" she finally said. "(Though I cannot glorify this war, what you say is true. And perhaps those who have lost loved ones, such as I, will be tired of having leaders who force their sons, fathers, husbands, and brothers off to a pointless battle. Maybe they will want peace.)" tears began to well up in her eyes, but she made no attempt to stop them, for they were tears of happiness for hope at last.


Okay, there were slight deviations from the canon in that (having not just Aragorn and the twins in the tent on the night after the battle, but I hope you can forgive me for that ). Well, I hope their plan for gaining pardon looks a little more feasible now. To all my reviewers: thanks very, very much for all your support!!!! You guys are awesome.

New Fic Up!Check in my bio- I'd love some reviews, thanks! And yes, I will still continue this one!

Tarock- Khalil and Lasca explain how the Haradrim fought against the North because Sauron promised them better lands than the desert they had to live in. This shows that they were fighting more out of desperation, and not out of cruelty or love of killing. Because of their motive, K and L hope that they will be forgiven. Sorry if you were confused.