Chapter 8: Don't Forget The Past
The long room held many beds and little speck's of light bled though closed shutters over the small windows, laying on a bed was a man with shaggy black hair and worn stubble on his face. His leg was held under a great deal of bandages wile elevated in a sling. Waking up he found him self stuck in the bed.
"Oh your finally awake." came a voice.
Looking over to the far side of the room he saw someone was closing the shutters at the far end of the room.
"Michel." good to see you?" he smiled.
"So how you feeling?" said Michel coming over.
Trying to move he grunted in pain before laying back down "I guess I'll be laid up here for a bit."
"Yeah." he sighed.
Soon the sound or marching echoed form the hall at the far end of the room
"You moving out?" he asked.
"Yes, were marching out." sighed Michel.
"What about me, I want to be there when Sauron returns."
"You can't, stay here, when your better well celebrate the victory."
"I'll hold you to that."
Giving a weary smile Michel left the room an joined the march as he hung in the door way before he disappeared in to the masses in the march.
Sitting the tavern he was decked in black leather amour with a glove on his left hand, he sat in front of his beer, and fooled around with his food. His eyes watched the room as patrons came and went, before an Elf in a cloak came and stood behind the only empty chair at the table.
"Are you Zaron?" asked the Elf.
"Yes."
The Elf sat down in a quick and swift movement.
"Are you as good as they say your are."
"Quite." he nodded.
"I have something I need you to take care of in Middle-Earth."
"You've cone a long way for something like that, Elf." he said slurring the word drawing out one of his daggers.
"I require you to hunt down a group of Dragon-Kinn."
"What's in it for me."
"I heard you wanted to clear your name."
"I do."
"That's funny for a man who ounce wished to serve the dark lord." the Elf sneered.
"I've moved on." he grunted. "Now tell me what do I get."
"The king of the humans has worked with your lords to settle the conflict, but I can grant you an audience the king."
"And what will that do."
"Give you what you need to move on, just bring back the Dragon-Kinn and I'll see to it you get a royal pardon form the king."
"You got your self a deal." he said downing his ale.
He was gone with such swiftness not even the Elf heard him leave, and was left surprised by his disappearance.
"Hay are you going to pay for that?" called the bar keep over to the Elf.
Looking around the Elf felt betrayed by being left with the bill, as he cursed his name.
Out side in the dirty yet busy streets Zaron fled in to the crowed and hopped on to the cart to hitch a ride. The bumpy cart shook him around as he was pulled away from the tavern.
The path of Harad road was a long one and Zaron walked alone, making the long trek he soon caught a glimpse of the bridge that went over the Haren river. The divide between Haradrim and the South of Gondor and the point of no return, crossing the river would take him into middle earth.
Making his way further up the road the sound of the river drew loader and more clear, soon enough he was at the bridge standing at the river's edge just on the side. Looking over he could not pull himself away and cross the bridge, knowing that crossing over would force him to face the fact he could redeem himself.
Pulling himself away he spun around and found him looking at merchant who was starring him down. Zaron looked to the cart sitting on the road with the horse that was attached to it.
"Hello there stranger, do you need any help getting across the river."
"Not really, I was just about to turn back." said Zaron.
"Nonsense, we should be bale to find a way to cross the river."
"There's a bridge right there." he pointed out moving past him.
"Great we can get across. Come one." said the Merchant.
Before he was bale to do anything he was being forced on to the cart and the Merchant had the cart move again.
"What are you doing?" Zaron asked.
"Going across the bridge."
"No." Zaron panicked and jumped off.
"Know why did you go an do that for." said the merchant bringing it to a halt.
"I don't want to cross." he insisted.
"To bad your already half way over." the Merchant as he smiled and snapped the rains as he rode on.
Watching him leave Zaron was left standing on the bridge, he walked to the wall and looked over the side seeing he was standing half way across the river.
He turned to look for the merchant "Hay…" but he was already gone.
Left standing on the bridge he turned to head back when he heard…
"Your not turning back already." asked the Merchant.
Looking back the old man with his white beard and grey cloak, standing with his large walking stick, with his cart and horse no where to be seen.
"No, I'm going back home."
"What you call home is middle earth, which is the ground we stand on." said the Merchant.
"No my home is south of here."
"So why are you so far away?"
"I was going."
"Yes you where and still can." said the Merchant cutting him off.
Zaron in fit of rage took a step forward "Will you stop cutting me off."
"What ever do you mean?" smiled the Merchant.
Zaron took another step getting closer to the other side.
"I am mealy trying to get you to follow-through."
"Who are you?" Zaron asked as he raced over the bridge.
But as soon as had reached the end bridge a cloud a smoke erupted and merchant was gone, looking back Zaron had seen he had crossed the bridge and was know in south of Gondor.
Passing though the lands he kept to aradRoad and was coming up to the river Poros and the junction in the road. One road lead west to inhir and beyond with the road north to Osgiliath and on towardsinasirith and the rest of Middle the long road ahead and behind him, the long trek had taken it's toll and the need of rest was starting to take it's toll.
The road had given little in the way of travellers and every person who had passed along the road was a great encounter, so the arrival of travellers crossing the river, going back in fourth. None ever took the road south, and so as he made his approach a few passers bye gave a wondering stare. Crossing the stream he looked on towards an approaching cart, making his approach he waved them down. The man was guiding his horse which was pulling the cart behind it, as they came towards the junction.
"Hello there stranger." he said in a gravelly voice.
"Yes, hello. I'm looking for aid to travel north."
"How far?"
"Not far, just until we reach Osgiliath."
"No one goes there."
"Why."
"Your form the south, you should know."
Zaron felt the guilt over come him.
"So what brings you this far north?" asked the Stranger.
"Redemption."
"Lets talk." he said as he carried on with his horse. "What could lead you down the path of redemption."
"The forgiveness of the King over our Lords actions, and the actions of me and my people."
"So…" he started "What sort of man leaves the land of his home to find the king and seek forgiveness of his past actions."
"Oh I never thought in the battle of King."
"So why seek forgiveness."
Zaron's face fell flat. "Look I've been on along walk, my I sit on the cart?" he asked. "If you also don't mind taking me as well."
"Of course, it's no weight on my back."
Hopping on he cart he made him self comfortable as his mind wondered and the world past him bye.
Time seemed to stand still as he looked on form the cart, wile things moved and passed him by, the sun moved across the sky and everything else around him showed the passage of time. But some how Zaron felt as he was stagnate as his mind remained still as the distance between him and Minas Tirith shrank.
"Okay where here." called the merchant.
Zaron was so entrapped in his own thoughts it took him a second to snap out.
"We've arrived, if you are looking to find your forgiveness, you might try and making a trip not to the king but to it's people."
"Thank you for the ride." he said hopping out.
"Good travels stranger."
Nodding Zaron stood and watched as the merchant took his horse and cart away and he stood looking at the fallen ruin's of Osgiliath.
He looked around at the ruins, "The pain and suffering that happened here, this is why, this is why." he said repeating him self over and over again.
Moving on he moved though the ruined city, chanting those words over and over in his head. Passing though houses and homes, pushing past stones and climbing over rubble, the words faded from his mouth.
Falling to his knees he stopped and looked at was was left of Osgiliath, and his mind flashed to what might of happened.
"It's not wise to dwell on the past, if your don't look to the future." came a voice.
Looking up Zaron saw a tall figure standing over him, cloaked in full suit of amour, with an armies worth of weapons strapped to him.
"Wise words for a slayer of man." said Zaron.
"I am no slayer, I have never taken a life, or been involved with any death of any creature."
"Then why is it you carry so much, for a man of peace."
"Never did I say, I was a man of peace."
"Then who are you?"
"That is a question, many will ask you as will?"
Zaron was more confused as he stood up and saw the man towered over even him.
"So what name do you go by?" they asked.
"Zaron."
"What a name, does a title follow it or is a simple name to be carried with many wonders as who is the man behind it."
"No it's a reminder of the past." grunted Zaron choosing to leave walking away and he moved though the ruins.
Pursuing him the armoured fellow spoke of his name. "So, not a name or a title, but a burden. A name forced upon your self to carry as a weight, that pulls down heavy on your heart."
Zaron tired speeding up and so did the other.
"Why would someone do such a thing as place such a thing upon themselves, unless you feel gilt and wish to punish your self." spoke the figure "Unless the guilt and pain you feel was some how placed among your shoulders. Then the question becomes what it was that led you to down this path."
Zaron stopped allowing the figure to walk along side him. "It was me. It was my fault."
"What was."
"Michel, we where in a fight."
"And you never resolved your friendship."
"No, that's not it at all." complained Zaron.
"Forgive me." bowed the other "Proceed."
"We where fighting of a local skirmish and I took a arrow to the knee to save him, so when it came to march for war, he went out and I was left behind."
"So." said the other "You hold your self, accountable for the death of your friend."
"Wouldn't you."
"Oh yes, and I do. Wile I have never taken a life, I have lost many. Many though me refusing to take a life, they have only claimed more."
"So you know how I feel."
"Yes, and you wish that you could have gone in his place, and died instead of him, but you can not undo what is done"
"Yes."
"But when you took the arrow, what would of happened if you hadn't taken it."
"What?"
"In the battle where you thought in and took the arrow, what would of happened to your friend if you didn't take it."
"Well, uh."
"Would they have survived and been left out in the medical ward, or would have perished, leaving both of you to die."
"I guess he would have been killed, I was bale to jump in front of it, that's what put me down." the reality washed over him and soured his entire demeanour.
"So if you had not taken the arrow he would have perished, leaving him dead and you angry, enough to slip up on your next attack leading you to mess up and end up dead."
"I never thought of that."
"No, no one ever does." they said stockily "But that's why you carry your name as a burden, as you can not allow your self to let go."
"How is it your wiser then most men."
"Because I am not man, I've seen things come and go, nothing lasting longer then those willing to fight for it."
"Is that why your have all the amour, and weapons."
"Yes, I fight to protect Middle-Earth, as it is all I hold dear, now what are you fighting for."
"What do you mean."
"Someone like you would not have come all this way for not."
Zaron stopped, their walk had led them edge of the ruins.
"Why do you stop." asked the other carrying on.
"You keep speaking of the past."
"But, you haven't spoke a single word of your own."
"I have no past here, I only have what I carry."
"So why are you helping me."
"I was only talking to you as I moved passed though here, I think you'll find your road, west of here."
"Where are you going?"
"No where and every where, there are still places of this earth I have not touched."
Zaron watched as he left and wondered onward sticking to a straight line and never straying form it. He looked west past a few more ruins to see out in the distance a road, turning away to take it he was draw back to the figure only to see they where out of sight. Turing back and made his way though the ruins and onwards towards the road and towards his redemption.
As he left to find the road he looked over and the great towering city of the king, Minas Tirith sat as everything he wanted. Being so close to his goal he was also very far away from it as well, and he gritted his teeth and fastened his walking pace. All the wile it was eating away at him forcing him in to a sprint.