Khalad's heart was pounding hard, as Melost spoke to him. It all made sense. His grandfather had made sure he knew much of Númenor's history, and some of the elves, and it all made sense.
But this meant one thing; Annatar was alive! They had all believed he had died in the Akallabeth, how could he be alive? Khalad took a decision. Annatar was the foe of all the Númenorians who were faithful, including an outlaw like him. Feelings of patriotism stirred in him, and he knew what he had to do.
"My life is forfeit anyway," Khalad thought to himself. "I will make sure this elf returns to the army, even at the cost of my life. And if I can, I will join the army as well. This fight is on a grander scale than living a petty life here among these brigands."
It seemed Jaheira had guessed some of the thoughts that ran through his head. She whispered to Vlad, and no doubt she accused him of treason. Khalad did not wish to betray the outlaws; after all, he still owed them too much to not honour any bonds he had with them. But not at the cost of this elf.
He whispered to him: "I know of what you speak, and your words are true. Fear not, I shall do all in my power to get us both out of here, and back to the army. But we must convince Vlad, the man with one eye, that you pose no danger."
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Thelian's sword leapt out of his scabbard and into his hand. It seemed like disaster followed upon disaster. He and Dorlas stood in front of the four women who had taken a weapon each, and stood determined to defend themselves. They all knew what would happen, should they fall into the orcs' hands alive.
The orcs came close, and engaged in hand-to-hand combat. Here and there bolts from a crossbow flew, but as far as Thelian could gather in this chaos, nobody was hurt yet. He thrusted his sword into a orc's chest, and quickly withdrew it to block an attack towards himself.
Suddenly, Arthain's shield came up close to his head. An arrow struck against it, but felt harmlessly to the ground. Thelian nodded quickly to Arthain in gratitude, before rushing forward to the aid of the women. He was not allowed to think much in the turmoil, but one thought pressed in between all the noise, and stench of blood and death; he owed his life to Arthain. Why did the Valar torment him like this, putting him in life debt to the one who had caused him the most grief? His only comfort was the grim thought that Arthain was mortal; at some point, time would erase it. But could time erase the memories of these events that was etched in his heart?
[ July 25, 2003: Message edited by: Daniel Telcontar ]
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