Two Sides of a Coin

Chapter Eight: Shastan's Past

author's note: I am sorry I haven't written in a while! College tends to melt one's brain, and the fact that finals are coming up doesn't help much. But I'll return to posting once a week now, promise! And as show of good faith, here's two more chapters of the story. Be sure to read chapter 7! Btw: I never got to thank you guys for your wonderful reviews! You all are what helps me continue writing! Thanks!

"Let all Men know thee, but no man know thee thoroughly: Men freely ford that see the shallows ." Benjamin Franklin

Shastan and Ladril had spent the rest of the day traveling on the road and camped early for the night. Now it was morning and they were packing once again for the long journey ahead. As Ladril tightened the satchel on his bag, he was hit by a shocking realization.

The two men had not fought all morning.

The ranger could not help but wonder at this. Was it due to the fact they barely spoke since breakfast, or were all the pointless arguments really behind them now?

As Ladril reflected on this he felt a sharp pain in his wrists. Wearily he looked down and inspected the shackles, which had rubbed into his skin and now bit into his flesh. If he and Shastan were really past fighting, the Swerting would have unshackled Ladril and spared him this pain. But Shastan was obviously adamant about keeping him in chains.

If only he could find out why.

The sun was climbing, and the two men started their trek on the long, dusty road. The dark forest was far behind them and the road now cut its way through grassy hills in a broad, sunny plain.
After traveling in silence for some time, Ladril finally spoke.
"Shastan?"
"Yes?"
"...I really don't want to go to Kisha'rut."
"...I know..."
"Can't we come to a negotiation or something? You know I will dig in my heels the whole way South, and I'll make a terrible slave. I could compensate you somehow if you set me free...how about it?"
Shastan was about to consider Ladril's request, but he realized what he was doing and quickly snapped "A master does not adhere to his slave."
This startled Ladril into silence. He would have reproved Shastan's severe remark, but he wasn't about to admit that a Southron had hurt his feelings. What was wrong with Shastan, anyway? He was always pleasant about everything, but when it came shackles and negotiating Ladril's freedom he was a stubborn boar. There was no understanding him. There was no putting up with him.

Meanwhile, there was a long moment in which Shastan recalled his harsh words and quietly regretted saying them.

"...I planned a few strategies if we get caught up with further encounters on the road," The Swerting said at length, hoping light conversation would change the mood.
"Such as?" The ranger asked with little interest.
"If we meet orcs, I will act tough with you and we'll hurry past them. If we see a fellow we do not know, we'll get off the road and go around. If we meet a band of Swertings, I'll just throw them a nod and they will let us by."
Ladril looked up. "What if we meet an Ithilien regiment?"
"We'll dive behind a rock, I suppose. But what are the odds of that happening?"
"Pretty good I'd say, because here they come."

Shastan's head snapped up. Straight ahead, where the road climbed over another hill crest, stood the front line of an Ithilien regiment gazing down at the plains.

"...And it looks like they see us," Ladril commented.
Indeed, the front line was now staring down in puzzlement at the two men, though at this distance they could only be discerned as blurred figures.
Ladril turned to Shastan, expecting him to dive under some rock. But Shastan, knowing they have been marked by the Ithilien troop, gripped his spear and readied himself.
"What are you doing?" Ladril asked in alarm.
"Preparing to fight," Was the reply.
"Shastan you idiot! You can't fight them all!"
"Then I will die trying."
The ranger was surprised, but admired the man's grim determination. He was neither angry nor spiteful at his current fortune, but was resolved to whatever fate would deal him.
...Even if it meant death.

Ladril looked at the regiment, then at Shastan. He could just stand back, rejoin the troops as a free man and let the soldiers arrest the Swerting. But then...what would happen to him? Ladril knew he really shouldn't care, since he was the enemy and this was War.
But Shastan really wasn't the enemy. He was...Shastan. A polite, albeit extremely superstitious and ridiculously far too pleasant, "Swerting". And now he was bracing himself for whatever fate the Ithilien regiment would contrive for him.
Ladril's conscience quickly decided he would not let that happen.

"Listen," Ladril began as the regiment's second line now peered over the hill and observed the two strangers. "...I have an idea, but you have to do exactly as I say."
Shastan remained unmoved.
"Shastan, this will save your life!"
The Swerting finally lowered his spear. "Fine. What is it?"
"Unshackle me."
"No."
"You know you don't have a choice."
Shastan hesitated, looking at Ladril and then the Ithilien ranks. Finally, cursing under his breath, he pulled out a small key from around his neck and fit it into the lock of the shackles. With a click they unclasped and fell to the ground.
Ladril rubbed his sore wrists and thanked the Valar he was no longer in chains. He wanted to kick the shackles as far away as he could, but he needed them for his plan.
Picking them up, he reached for Shastan's wrists. Shastan sprang back as if the shackles were hot coals.
"What are you doing?!"
"Just put these on. I'm pretending you are my prisoner."
"I am not your prisoner!"
"I know. We're pretending until we pass the regiment. Just give me the key and put them on-"
"I am not putting them on!"
"Shastan we do not have time! They're coming-"
The Swerting and the ranger looked back at the hill as the regiment began marching down the slope to meet the two men.
Ladril tried to move for Shastan's wrists again, but he sharply tugged his hands away. "I said NO!"
"I'll take them off the moment we pass the regiment! You have to trust me!"

"Trust you? You want me to be a slave!"

"I never said that!"

"It's in your eyes! I can tell!"
"If you don't do this you'll die!"
"That's better than being in chains!"
"Put them on!"
"No!"

"Do it, you stupid stubborn Southron!"

"I won't be a slave!"
"Shastan-"
"No!"

"Shastan!"

"NOT AGAIN!"

There was startled silence. Ladril could only stare in bewilderment, while Shastan resolved to keep his head erect; despite the fact it was now flushed and shamed.
Sweet Valar, what has this man been through? Ladril could not help but wonder. Then, remembering time was against them, the ranger held the shackles in front of the Swerting and said in a firm voice "Shastan, you are either captive to me for a moment or captive to the Ithilien Guard for the rest of your life. Now choose!"

Shastan's eyes refused to meet the shackles, but finally he nodded. With the regiment nearly in clear sight, Ladril hurriedly took Shastan's key and clasped the cuffs around his wrists, noting that the Swerting visibly shuttered. There was only just enough time for Ladril to pick up the spear and prod Shastan along before the Ithilien regiment came upon them. There were ranks upon ranks of armed rangers, a banner of the White Tree fluttering before them. The Captain of the regiment stepped solidly forward while the flanks watched from their lines in curiosity.
"What regiment do you report to, ranger?" The Captain acknowledged Ladril.
"The Northeast Regiment, sir." He quickly replied.
"But you are heading south, far from any regiment," The Captain's eyes shifted suspiciously to Shastan. "Why do you travel with this man?"
"He is my prisoner, caught in one of the northern skirmishes. I am now delivering him to the regiment in the...southwest." He finished rather lamely.
The Captain raised a brow. "Why on earth would you be doing that?"
Think Ladril, think. The ranger fumbled a bit, then quickly said "There is a...ranger, sir, in that regiment who knows the Swert-- Southron speech. He is to interrogate this savage and obtain information concerning the Enemy's plans."
The Captain studied Shastan and slowly nodded, but when Ladril glanced at the Swerting he was greatly alarmed: the blood was draining from Shastan's face and it seemed that hundreds of nightmares or dark memories were besieging him as he stared down at the shackles.
"Still," The Captain concluded. "There is no sense in having only one ranger escort a captive in the wild. I will send a few men to accompany you southwest."

Ladril nervously bit his lip. He didn't plan on this happening. The Captain turned and selected a few broad-shouldered men, but as they stepped forward Ladril looked at Shastan's sick complexion and was struck with an idea.
"Plague!" His voice rang out. "The Southron is riddled with a desert plague!"
The entire front line jumped back in fear, including the Captain. There was dead silence throughout the troops.
"The...Ithilien Guard can only afford to spare one man for the job," Ladril explained. "I am sure you understand, sir."
The Captain nodded, but was astonished. "You willingly risk your life to see this Southron delivered to the Southwest Regiment? Never have I seen such valor in a ranger!"
"Er...yes," Ladril coughed. "Well...we have to leave now, time is pressing you know." With that he began to yank the pale Shastan away.
"What do you think you are doing?" The Captain shouted after them.

Ladril stopped and felt his blood freeze. "We're…uh…going to-"

"It will not profit you to lead your captive with that," The Captain said, referring to the spear in Ladril's hand. "You will be without a weapon if you throw it and miss!"
Ladril could almost feel Shastan grimacing behind him. The Captain meanwhile turned to his horse and untied a scabbard from the saddle. He tossed it to Ladril, and his eyes grew wide when he saw the sword's fine craftsmanship.
"Thank you, sir," Was all the ranger could say.
"Thank you for the service to your country," The Captain answered with a firm salute.

Rather than contemplating the great irony in the statement and becoming riddled with guilt, Ladril continued to lead Shastan down the road. They did not stop until they were far from the regiment, which had turned and resumed their march in the other direction. When the troops were out of Ladril's farthest sight, he kept his promise and took off Shastan's chains. By now the Swerting was calm and was retaining his color.
"Thank you...I'm sorry, Laaderil."
That was all he said. He just turned and continued down the road as if nothing changed. But something had changed: Ladril was free, and thanks to the Captain's sword he was now armed. He could walk away right now, owing nothing to Shastan, and catch up with the Ithilien troop. But as he watched the departing Swerting he felt…concerned.

No, not concerned, Ladril scolded his thoughts, simply curious. But it was an impelling curiosity nonetheless. Impelling enough to make his feet walk without instruction from his brain, and follow the direction Shastan had gone. Sighing to himself, the ranger knew he couldn't possibly leave Shastan until a few things had been explained. And so the previous captive followed after his previous captor, who did not stop and would not speak until nightfall.

The stars glittered overhead. A small fire was made, but food was not prepared and the camp was not set. Neither Shastan nor Ladril really cared. For a while they both stared at the fire, deep in thought, until Ladril felt it was finally time to end the silence.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked the Swerting.
Shastan shifted uneasily. "...I suppose I do owe you an explanation."
"I didn't mean it that way. I meant it might help you if you talked to someone." Sweet Valar, did he just say that? He could only press on. "…You've never told anyone you were once a slave, have you?"
"...No," Shastan admitted after a pause. "But that doesn't mean you ought to be the one to learn my past. My story...you will not find it pleasant."
"I can listen to anything."
"Can you?" Shastan scoffed. It seemed he would simply leave it at that, spending the rest of the night in silence and keeping Ladril in the dark. But, to Ladril's surprise, the Swerting suddenly unfolded his story.

"…In my early years, my mother raised me in the desert. But drought and lack of food forced us to join a caravan. It took us to Umbar; a rather nasty place, but we managed to make a living there. One day, while we were at the ports trading with Cosairs, the coast was suddenly bombarded by terrible men with massive and deadly ships; they poured onto the barges like hungry locus. I can still remember...people running, such confusion, and then my mother and I were separated in the crowds. Being only a child, I fell easily into the enemy's hands. They took me, with many others, back on their ships and sailed away. I was enslaved in their lands and never saw my mother, or anything that resembled Home, again."

"That's terrible," Ladril said breathlessly. "I cannot imagine even savages stealing children like that. In what land were you enslaved?"
Shastan stared at him, amazed that he did not understand. "I was enslaved in Gondor."

Ladril blinked. "...That cannot be true."
"It is."
"Gondor does not permit slavery! Any people we take in warfare are captives at best!"
"Ah yes, they are captives. But then what? What do you do with prisoners of war that you have no use for? You can't turn them free, lest they have discovered a weakness in your country during their captivity. Most prisoners are put to work secretly, deep in mines or secluded mills. That was so in Gondor, and I spent most of my childhood working at a mill in a remote region of Belfalas."
Ladril shook his head. "I still cannot believe it...I had no idea..."
"I am sure no one else did either, not even your Steward," Shastan said assuringly. "These places were very secretive and my...'master,' was a man few people knew." Shastan said this with a bitter tone. "But I was a slave there all the same."
"That is where you learned the Common Speech, isn't it?"
Shastan nodded.
"But you are free now. How did you escape?"
"I didn't. I was set free. My 'master' was getting old and I suppose he didn't want to enter the next life knowing he was a slave owner. He concluded that all his deeds would be forgiven if he took what slaves he had and released them in Umbar. So that is what happened to me," Shastan shook his head in disdain. "Although I think he shall still meet condemnation anyway."
"...And after you were released in Umbar, you went home." Ladril concluded.
Shastan hesitated. "...Yes."
His hesitation was long enough to be questionable.

Suddenly Ladril realized the truth, and he wondered why didn't see it before. "...No. You still hated Gondor didn't you? Even after your release you wanted to get even."
Shastan lowered his eyes at this.
"That is why you did not return home," Ladril continued. "That is why you joined your country's army. You felt you would not be avenged for the wrongs you've suffered until..." He looked at his raw, bitten wrists. "-until you obtained a slave of your own."
Shastan was silent, then at length he said "...Well done, Laaderil."
So that was it. Shastan was not the pleasant, thoroughly passive man he projected himself to be. He still felt anger, he still felt hurt, and he felt the need to be avenged.

Just like Ladril…

"But there is one thing that doesn't make sense," The ranger quickly said, before the thought could develop any further. "You enslaved me for revenge, and yet you treated me so kindly. I do not understand why."
"Don't you?" Shastan's head snapped up. "Then I will tell you why, Laaderil. Every little thing you did reminded me of myself. You dug your heels in, resisted every step of the way, exactly as I did when I was a slave. I could not ill-treat you because…it would have been like ill-treating me. It is the paramount of my frustrations: I have forsaken going home, traveled countless miles with my army, searched for a slave so I could be compensated for all my years spent in chains, and then I end up getting you." Shastan ruminated over this in sad amusement. "…which was just like enslaving a mirror."

Both men fell into silence, lost in their own thoughts. When the silence was broken again, it was done by Shastan.

"….What will you do now?"
Ladril looked up. "Pardon?"

"You are free now and you are armed. I expect you'll rejoin your regiment in the North. Or will you go home instead?"
"Neither," The ranger shook his head. "I've been thinking...what if I make a deal with you?"
"When have you not?"
Ladril laughed. "I have a feeling you will actually consider this one."
"Let's hear it then."
"If you journey to Kisha'rut alone, you are likely to run into another regiment and get arrested. I can escort you as far as the Crossings of Poros, in the very South of Gondor. The Ithilien Guard has no troops stationed beyond that point, and the Crossings of Poros will put you on the Harad Road. That will lead you straight home."
Shastan stared at the ranger. "... Really? You would do that?"
Would he do that? It could be seen as treason to his country. Escorting an enemy back into enemy territory went against the order of things; it contradicted the very conduct of War.

But Ladril couldn't help feeling that it was the most right thing to do.

"…Of course. I owe you for quite a lot of things already."
"All right then," The Swerting happily got on his feet. "I accept your deal. We embark for the Crossings of Poros at dawn!"
"It will take a few days, actually." Ladril stated.
"...Then we embark on the journey for the Crossings of Poros at dawn!" Shastan corrected himself.
Ladirl couldn't help but smile. About a week ago, traveling to the Crossings of Poros in the company of a Swerting was the last thing he expected to do.