Disclaimer: I only own those characters that I conjured up.

Thanks to all who reviewed. I really appreciate it!

And I apologise for taking so long to update… I'm really falling behind, schedule-wise and otherwise. I meant to update near the end of January, but the school had this adventure camp everyone had to go for… and it was basically five days away from civilisation. Help. This chapter is basically rather redundant, but the next one is better… I miscalculated the events…erps.

– Odium –
Chapter Three

It had been two days since she had left all that she had known behind, therefore effectively cutting off a part of herself that loved. There were times in the past days that she wanted to turn back, and walked back down whence she came. Hidaer would welcome her back with open arms, and Rufas likewise with a sloppy lick, she would return to life as usual in the village and all would forget she had ever left. She would be married, have children and…

No, it was not them who had made her go this far. Rather, it was her feminine pride, and her detest of failure that keep her feet walking northward.

The road was long and winding, a far cry from the line that represented it on those hastily –and rather crudely drawn maps –that Hidaer that somehow managed to obtain for her. The lines that been rather straight, with various curves here and there that roughly wound around the 'contours' of the landscape. It showed a nice, rather straight and easy road to Gondor, or Mordor. But what it failed to show were the numerous twists and turns, along with other obstacles which blocked the path. Of course, there were also times when she lost the path completely while doing a turn, thanks to the huge amount of grass that had conveniently decided to grow there. She would then curse softly under her breath, and wonder –for the umpteenth time –why she had been so eager to start that she had forgotten to bring the map, however inaccurate it was. At least it would help her when she passed the borders of Gondor.

Stopping for a while to rest, she checked her ever-declining rations. It seemed less than she had thought, then again, plans never did come out right do they? She looked irritatedly at her almost empty pack, as if glaring would make her sparse rations become more plentiful.

It seemed that she had but little food, some mouthfuls of water and a week or so more walking to do. Wonderful, just what she wanted.

-space-

The days passed with a little more vigour when she finally made her decision. And it was a pretty novel one, if she had to say so herself. It had taken her a while to find the village closest to the road, and even then it was a half-hour walk to it. But, her mind was not yet taken off the Road, for she worried that she would not be able to find it again.

She tried her best to find lodging, and perhaps some food with the occupants, which was not easy, considering they had yet to heal from the scars of the event twelve years before. Suspicious looks were abound as she walked amidst them, and the occasionally hostile movement towards her. They probably thought she was not one of them, that she knew. Her fair skin –well, fair for a Harad –set her apart from the brown-cherry skins of her fellow kinsmen, and that alone was enough to cause hostility.

Still, she 'prevailed' in the end, and managed to get a night's lodging with a farmer and family, the only condition being she help out with the chores. They were poor, as their race often was, Easterlings being the richer of the two kindreds, though sundered long ago. But once they managed to establish her identity somewhat and where she came from and that she was headed north for 'urgent business', they gladly took her in, partly since she was a fellow Haradrim, and never asked anything about the sword on her back.

The next day she had left the village with a completely full stomach, and a few coins in her pocket. Finding her way back to the road was simple, for her footprints were still partially visible in the dust on the dry ground, and so her journey was continued.

The routine went on for quite a while, and in every village she went into as she neared Gondor, scars still showed prominently. In some, the destroyed huts were left untouched, a remainder of that horrendous day. Their occupants had long been put to rest, but they were remembered with great reverence. Those she managed to speak to about it would break down into silent tears barely five minutes in the recount. Their shoulders heaving even as she tried her best to comfort them, the women would cry for their lost children –taken to sell or cruelly tortured to death for the soldiers' own interest. While the men would stop what they were doing and stare at her with blank eyes, telling her in silent voices not to bring it up again. What had happened to her village was considered mild compared to the humiliation they had suffered, and with a pang and wanted to know what had happened to her birthplace.

It was twelve full years since she went there, and vowed to herself never to go there again, or be reminded of all she had lost. But now, in these villages, as a dirty traveler seeking shelter, the past had hit her worse than a fist in her face, and to some extent reality had seeped through again. She was once again reminded of why she had even started this journey in the first place, for during the long walks her mind had unknowingly wandered off to the distant future, where everything was perfect.

-space-

The news came late morning on the eighth day, just as she was about to leave. Whispers ran like wildfire throughout the village she was in, as women went about whispering to each other, fear evident in their eyes. The men tried their best to quench the rumors, hoping that it was not altogether true. She looked around, hoping to find someone that was not scurrying through and fro to ask about it, but to no avail. Those that she stopped were too frightened to answer anything but incoherent sentences and weird phrases, and she tried to make out a proper understanding of 'next village', 'taken', 'they…took…them' among some, feeling increasingly frustrated by the second.

But she need not have worried.

The wife of the family she was staying with came up to her, and took her deep breath, before laying the news upon her. As soon as she did that, Kyelia was hurried out of the door and to the Road, with some bread pressed into her palms. The family wished her good luck before hurrying off again, seeing to various matters to combat what was coming.

All Kyelia could do, however, was stand there, the small loaf of bread in her hands as she looked ahead. The road had decidedly become more daunting as soon as the words were uttered. She was not afraid, merely shocked, though it happened to occasions.

Her legs soon regained life and feeling, and she was off again, slowly, as the woman's last words rang through her mind.

"Fair skinned men have been sighted in the country," she had hissed. "As bad as the soldiers of the Past, but sowing another sort of terror."

Tbc…

Note:

I'm making the thing about Easterlings and Harads being distantly related up… not really sure. Don't kill me!

The next update would probably be next week or something, seeing that I have five days of nothing but holiday.

Could you do me a favour? See that 'Review' button there? Just click on it and help review… it is much appreciated. Thanks!

lindahoyland: hey! Thanks so much for reviewing! Trust me, it's going to get better or at least I hope so… when she gets there.

A girl named bob: uh, yeah, the dog just popped up. Decided that since Hidaer missed his first dog so much, why not name another dog after the first? Some weirded theory of mine, excuse me…

wene: haven't decided whether to kill him. Yet.

Turiel: thanks! My ego just swelled up ten notches you know… heh. Can I have your shiny elven sword? Please?

kitza: thanks for the review! I don't think she's gonna waltz in and all that… the second idea sounds interesting… hm. Hopefully she'll recognize someone, when the time comes.

and to the person with the emoticon: yeah, i like wars