The Sands of Rhun: A Middle Earth Story(Book 2)

Chapter 4: Morgothrone

The day came upon us sooner than I had expected. The camp was bustling with activity as everyone made preparations to leave, soon dismantling the tents that had been our home for several months. Layala and I stood silently watching, my arms crossed as I took note of everything. Several other pairs of fighters mulled around as well, and they occasionally glanced over at us. I studied each of them, my face devoid of expression.

   These weren't the only other teams we'd be fighting in the Pit, but I figured it was wise to at least make sure I was familiar with some of my opponents.

   The first pair was made of two women. One was short and her face was covered in scars. Her small, beady eyes made contact with mine and she glared at me. I stared at her until she turned away uncomfortably. Even this short exchange told me something. She was weak, trying too hard to act tough. Her companion was tall by contrast, and had paler skin. Blue tattoos adorned her face in a swirling pattern that made her look almost feline, and her icy blue eyes roved to and fro like a predator searching for prey. Her bare arms were covered in tattoos as well. She didn't acknowledge my gaze.

   My gaze turned to the second pair. Both were large burly men. Corsairs from the look of them. The corsairs of Umbar were known to be ruthless men, pirates and cutthroats who couldn't even be trusted by their own. One of them grinned at me, his yellow teeth rotting and crooked. He punched his companion in the shoulder. The other man looked at me and Layala and guffawed. He had a bright red mohawk and two golden hoop earrings dangling from his ears.

   The final pair looked similar to us, but the roles were reversed. The man was short and fidgeted nervously, afraid to meet my gaze. The woman looked tough, more like a military veteran than a brute mercenary. She studied me intently, narrowing her eyes in acknowledgment and nodding slightly. After a moment she walked over and stopped within a few feet of us.

   "Can we talk? Away from the others? My name is Kirtra." She said in a harsh southern Rhunic accent, and waved her companion over. He stopped a little behind her and began to study the ground.

   "Why?" I said quietly, tilting my head to the side slightly.

   "Because I have a proposition that may interest you," Kirtra said, pointing towards the edge of the camp. I looked at Layala. She shrugged.

   "Very well, lead the way." We followed the two other fighters and as we passed the two corsairs, one of them snarled at me. I elected to ignore him.

   We reached a small oasis near the edge of camp and stopped, looking around to ensure we were safe.

   "What was this deal you spoke of?" I said measuredly. I looked at the small man first, who practically cowered at my gaze, then turned to lock my gaze on Kirtra.

   "The Pit fights are treacherous, you know this. My husband Damil isn't a fighter," she motioned towards the small man. "I am; I served with the Loke-Gamp-Rim for a year," she explained with a slight smile of pride. "But I alone cannot protect us both, especially in the chaos of the Pit. It would be good to have allies. I'm sure you wouldn't object to a little extra help?" She ran a hand through her dark hair, which was braided into unkempt rows.

   "We would have to protect a helpless individual," I narrowed my eyes. "I do not see how we benefit from this."

   "I have money. It isn't much, but it is something." She pulled out a small bag and shook it. The sound of clinking coins filled the air.

   "Give us a moment," I turned to Layala and gently pulled her aside. "What do you think?"

   She seemed to be in thought for a moment, then responded. "I don't see why not. We should help people when we can."

Morgoth. This was the kind of thinking that would get us both killed.

   "That's not how this works. It's us or them. We can't all survive."

   She sighed, looking down at the ground to hide her expression. "I suppose you're right... You'd know better than me."

   For some reason a pang of remorse went through me at her words. I did know. But I also knew something was missing inside me. She naturally cared about people. I considered them a liability, a tool that could be used and disposed of when it had served its purpose. Layala was the only person I had ever truly cared about.

   "Listen. We can't accept their deal. But I think I have an idea." With that I walked back to the woman and her husband.

   "We cannot actively protect you. However, we will help you where we can in the Pit. And we won't fight you directly unless it's entirely necessary."

   Kirtra looked disappointed and sighed in frustration. "Very well. I suppose that's the best we will get. There's no point in asking the others, they look like the type that enjoy killing. Thank you."

   I walked away, but over my shoulder I said, "The short scarred woman. I wouldn't worry about her." Perhaps this information would help them somehow, at least. 

   Layala followed me and we returned to our place. A gnawing feeling of guilt began to nag at my conscious, but I attempted to push it away. I could only afford to protect one person.