[Daniel Telcontar]

Khalad sat next to the fire. He couldn't sleep, and nor could Melost. Or did the elf need sleep? Khalad could not remember. He only knew the elf sat, starring in the ground. Every minute Khalad spent with the elf, even when they simply sat like this in silence, made him remember his childhood, and all he had known about the glory of his ancestors. The glory of Númenor.

And now it was in danger. The survivors were threatened by the horror of their past; Sauron, the enemy himself, whom all had thought was dead. He was merciless; altough Khalad had never known him, or lived under his regime of terror, the many tales of his grandfather had painted a clear picture of how horrible and terrifying it had been for the Elendili.

Khalad looked around at the sleeping outlaws; they lived in their simple worlds, thinking that they were important, and did not hesitate to kill if someone offended them. What did they know of the West, or the greater affairs of Middle-earth.

He knew that if Sauron was the victor in this war, there would be no survivors. The Númenorians and Elves were too great a threat that any should be left alive; and Khalad felt shame, that he hid here in the mountains, instead of defending his home.

Khalad thought if he should begin a conversation; there were many things he desired to know from Melost. He had not heard much news about the events of Middle-earth since he joined the outlaws, and he wished dearly he knew more about it.

But before he could speak, Vlad passed them by. He was headed in Jaheira's direction, and when he said a few words about another being the guard for the rest of the night, followed by a grin and a blink with the eye, as from one member of a conspiracy to another, Khalad did not have difficulties guessing what Vlad's business was tonight.

Melost, on the other hand, was more puzzled.
"What did he mean, Khalad?" he asked, not sure if Vlad was a friend or foe. Earlier it had seemed like he had little respect for Khalad, and now he acted like the two was old friends.

Khalad sat, a bit embarassed, not sure how to explain this.
"Well, you see, Jaheira and Vlad are more than just friends. Or, perhaps it would be more correct to say that they think the other one is attractive; I'm not sure if they feel any friendly emotions towards each other. But they can still-find pleasure with each other."

Melost was silent for awhile, and realised what he meant.
"You mean, they are together like that? And I suppose, when they wish, they simply break up, if they don't backstab the other first! It seems that men lack certain standards." He did not speak further, for suddenly, he knew that some of his own race was not better than these humans; but he could not remember more. It made him feel bad, that his own people could behave like this. For although he did not remember any details, he knew without question that at least one elf had behaved even worse than this; and the thought was like a knife in his heart. Or was the pain present because of something else?

Khalad did not answer, nor did he seem to take notice of Melost anymore. He thought about his own sister. Indeed, in Gondor they did not do things like this; and this probably meant that had his sister survived, she would have lived the rest of her days inside their father's house, never leaving it, hiding her shame, and always remaining a shadow which was to be ignored.

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: Daniel Telcontar ]