[Novnarwen]

"Yes, yes. Hoe. I killed orc with hoe.”

Aldor, as everyone called him, listened to Grash tell the story about how he had killed an Orc with a hoe. Rhând frowned when hearing the end of it. Surely, orcs were cruel and certainly a disgusting race. But killing them, even though they were foul creatures, was not His will. Rhând felt utterly miserable as he felt his neck getting worse. After the recent events with the spider, he had to admit, even though doing nothing in particular when meeting Shelob, that he was exhausted.

He received a piece of meat from one of the women. Standing still, not moving a limb, watching how the red sky made him shiver with pleasure, he hesitated. The Haradrim was not stupid; he knew the women, more specifically Darash and Lyshka, knew his secret. What if they had poisoned the meat? Looking around, studying everyone for unusual twitches or grimaces, he waited for the others to eat first. If there was something wrong with the meat, he would know in few seconds.

"Not eat?" Grash asked suddenly, himself eating hurriedly. Rhând didn't say anything. Some of the others, too, turned to look at this man who denied the food that he had been given. Rhând didn’t offer them another look, as he set his teeth into the meat and chewed, realising how paranoid he had become. What on earth could they have poisoned the food with? They were not in possession of such things. He reproached himself for being such a twit, cursed, and prayed to Him that He would give his faithful servant strength to carry on. As he prayed, naturally under his breath so that no one could hear him or see what he was up to, he felt the pain from the bit on his neck grow. He felt his stomach turn, and his eyes getting all blurry. He couldn't see!

He blinked.

He blinked once more.

Grash was foggy, and so were the rest. He couldn't make the figures out clearly. He blinked again, now desperate. Had his Master made him blind when praying? Shaking his head, rising from his sitting position, he uttered a few words: "Will go ahead, and see. Come back soon," he said, as he put his arms out; being ready to feel his way forwards the cliff-side. No one questioned his sudden eagerness to explore around the Morgul Vale. He disappeared from their sight in a hurry, still not seeing much. What he couldn't understand, was that his eyes were wide open. Nevertheless, it seemed to him that they were half way closed, and what he could see was all blurry and foggy. In addition to this, he found it especially difficult to see anything when he knew nothing about its form. Meanwhile he could make out, just barely, the figures of the others, as he knew they were there; he couldn't at all make out how the country was. Mount Doom, which had been so clear minutes ago, had almost disappeared in the fog that had suddenly overcome him.

He found himself settling himself into a stone wall, dead scared of what was happening to him. A feeling of being helpless struck him. It felt like a dagger had been thrust into his chest, which he couldn't get out, and having troubles breathing, he bent his head down and cursed in a weak voice. Suddenly, his stomach turned and he vomited. Shaking, as he had barely eaten, and what he had eaten was coming up, he knew that if he didn't do anything with the others quickly, he would never survive to prove himself to Him. The sowllen neck of his was getting worse as well. He'd received a rat bite before this one, in the Tower of course, but it had not become swollen and it hadn't hurt in the least. Maybe the women could tend it? He could pretend that he fainted. They would surely know when they saw his swollen neck, that something was wrong. But was it wise of him to show such weakness, especially to these women who probably were suspicious towards him already? The women would think they had an advantage if he showed him his weakness. On the other hand, could he go on with this bit if it was dangerous?

He couldn't risk not making it when being so close. I'll deal with the women as soon as this is tended , he thought, finally decided that he would go for it. He would have to be weak for once, get the wound tended, and bring them down afterwards. Yes, there was no other option.

Hurriedly, he blinked twice in a row. His sight was improving, and it was not as foggy as it just had been. Rising, he noted to himself that it was getting worse again. When I rise, my sight gets poor, he thought, standing for a few moments still. His vision got better and better, and soon he could clearly make out his surroundings. Seconds, he stood only watching the great Mountain that stretched upwards in front of him. Filled with admiration of the power that lay within this land, he drew a long breath. He would not fail this, he promised himself he wouldn’t.

Walking slowly back, he figured how he was going to do it. The fall, itself, was going to hurt; but he would have to do it anyway, knowing that he was pending on someone to see his neck and being able to tend it properly. Rhând supposed that women usually knew how to tend things, and he would have to trust his instinct now. If women, more specifically; these women, couldn't do such thing, then what good could they do? Cursing, as he was fairly narrow-sighted when it came to women in general, he approached the others. Making himself ready, he hoped at least one of these stupid, arrogant, twits would help him. They looked at him questioningly as they notcied him, but he dropped dead and sank to the ground pretending that he had fainted.