Khamul regret getting on the horse not ten minutes later.

The pain in his leg was getting worse and worse with each passing moment, and to this stranger, he would not complain. He had been dependent on the arrogant man enough.

"How far is this Annatar?"

"Two days. We are not far."

Khamul rode, and Ungosse pulled the horse, silence between them. It was terribly cold, and his leg began to bleed again by midday. He was determined to not admit defeat to this man, but the pain pulsed through his leg, making his head pound in rhythm.

"Ungosse," Khamul said sharply, his hand clamped over his wound.

"What is it?" He stopped the horse and turned. Khamul's eyes were clamped shut in agony, blood seeping through his fingers.

"The pain," he gasped and bit the inside of his cheek. Now that he'd admitted it, his steeled resolve crumbled.

Ungosse's arms were around his waist a moment later, pulling him from the horse. "Why did you not say something sooner?" he scolded quietly, dragging him to lay down under a tree. He stuffed a rolled up cloak under his head and covered him with another.

"Please," Khamul gasped, holding his leg. His eyes were squeezed shut, his breath in ragged gasps.

Ungosse poured herbs into his water skin and shook it, offering it to Khamul. "Come, drink. It will help."

Khamul drank eagerly, the herbs numbing his lips as he drank. It soon numbed his pain and his mind, and he fell swiftly to sleep.

When he woke it was early morning, and the wound at his side stabbed and throbbed. The sun shined in his face, and he pawed at a scarf wrapped around his nose and mouth. He groaned and opened his eyes. Snow. Ungosse was tending the fire and looked over to him. He approached and touched his forehead, unwrapping his face. "It was very cold last night, I did not wish for you to freeze," He explained.

Khamul nodded, "thank you."

"You must tell me what is wrong with you," Ungosse commanded, his pupils dilated. "I cannot help you if you are lying to me."

"I do not lie," Khamul strained. "I am dying. I have an illness no healer can cure, and my days are numbered. This wound shortens them further, it would seem."

"Why did you not tell me sooner that you needed rest? You are not my prisoner. Pride will quicken your death even further."

Khamul reddened, and Ungosse rose and returned to the fire.

Khamul slept again and woke on a stretcher. He was covered in furs and blankets, and Ungosse was saddling his horse. He was disoriented, and Ungosse looked over at him.

"Rest, we leave for Lord Annatar's home. He will be able to help you."

Khamul nodded and did not protest or question. He was weak and felt his mortality in his hands. Death was swiftly descending on him. He did not care about where he went, he simply did not want to be alone to die.

They rode several hours through the forest, and then through fields of wheat and barley. He had no idea where he was and was in and out of consciousness. Each time he woke their surroundings were different.

Khamul was not sure how long it had been since he had left Rhun, but he was now outside a dark tower, surrounded by trees. Ungosse lifted him into his arms, his light hair brushing his face.

"I will walk," Khamul protested, and Ungosse set him down. Pain spiked through his legs and his head spun, but he stayed on his feet. "Introduce me to this Annatar."

Ungosse smiled, and the doors of the tower swung open. A tall, slender elf approached them, and Khamul's mouth fell open. His white hair was straight, and shone like freshly fallen snow, complimenting his alabaster complexion. His eyes were orange, like a fire that licked at the winter sky. He put out his ringed hand, and Khamul took it weakly. It was freezing, and the man smiled cruelly.

"It is a pleasure," he said in a heavy accent, "I am Annatar."

Thanks for reading! Please review. Sorry for the shortness of the chapter and for the length of time it took me to post this. I will be updating faster in the future.