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

Chapter 8: New Beginnings

   Note: This chapter deals with suicidal themes and alcohol. Skip to the divider if those easily bother you.

Darkening shadows bled over the streets of Morgothrone as the sun finally set, staining them in black. The streets emptied at nighttime, as it was known by most that only the shadiest of the city's denizens wandered at night.

   I didn't care. I passed by several cloaked men, each of whom were immediately deterred from approaching me by the weapons at my side. They were in search of easier prey.

I soon found myself on the walls, feet dragging as I reached the edge.  As I came to a halt I could see the whole city in front of me: A thousand lights glittering like stars from the windows of the endless buildings that lined the streets. 

But despite a city full of people, I was completely and utterly alone. 

My bloodshot eyes slowly moved down, until I was looking over the edge of the wall to the ground dozens of feet below. Nobody would even care if I fell... 

I took a step forward, my foot dangling over the emptiness. I had never believed in an afterlife, for whatever gods dwelt above were surely too twisted to grant us that mercy, but at least ending it all here would snatch me from the darkness that sought to claim me in my despair. 

I closed my eyes, feeling the wet tears on my lashes as I took a deep breath. I hadn't been brave enough for Layala, surely I was at least brave enough for this...

A voice suddenly echoed through my mind. It was Layala's, but something was indecipherably different. 

 "You have to let me go. Promise me you'll make a new life for yourself. A good one. Please?"  It came as if from afar, but it hit me with the force of a well placed kick to the abdomen. 

I took a step back, opening my eyes as my heartbeat began to quicken. I couldn't afford to think so hopelessly... Even if it was all I could do.

I needed to not think at all at the moment, or else I would return to despair once more. In my depressed state, there was only one thing I could think of that would help with that: alcohol.

   I made my way down the silent streets until I reached a small building. A sign hung beside the door that read "The Full Flagon".

   I opened the door and was greeted by the sound of uproarious laughter, and glass shattering. I took in my surroundings, looking for an empty spot to sit.

There was a vast assortment of men and women within, many of them from the far reaches of Rhun. Balchoth tribesmen in their distinctive fur caps, merchants from Serakesh dressed in fine linen, and bearded slavers from Runakesh were just a few of the denizens whose origins I immediately recognized.

   The majority of the bar's patrons were gathered around the fireplace, in front of which two men were wrestling. I went to the far corner of the room and took a seat alone. The bartender brought a bottle of ale over, and I ended up drinking several mugs of it.

   Unfortunately, someone familiar was also at the tavern and as soon as he saw me, he began making his way toward me. I recognized the Fat Man immediately, though I had forgotten his name.

   "Rukil! I thought I'd find you out here somewhere celebrating your victory!" He spoke loudly, which drew the attention of several in the tavern.

   "Shut up," I growled at the Fat Man, roughly grabbing his wrist. "Tell me why you're talking to me, or leave. I'm in no mood for games."

   His eyes widened a little, but he laughed regardless, his large belly shaking. "I meant no offense my good man! I am merely here to talk about the deal we had with your master!"