The Cursed

Chapter 4 To a red sun rising

A low nicker from Korian stirs me from my sleep. The earth shakes ever so slightly as it trembles beneath the feet of many horses. A cloud of dust rising on the horizon. I push myself to my feet; we must not be caught unprepared if a fight is to ensue.

"Elladan, Elrohir, awaken quickly! We must make haste." They stumble to their feet, the early morning dust still prominent in their eyes. We scramble to our horses, for we wish not to be caught unaware. The cold silvery dew of the plains still clings to our clothes as we mount, sending out rays of pale morning light as the sun shines down upon us. Our bones are stiff with cold and our fingers numb. Our hearts pound beneath our breasts with the fear of being detained. For all of us have missions of our own: Mine to save as many lives as I can before defeating my Master, and probably perishing in the process; their's, to bring word to their father of things that will greatly impact the coming battle. I swing up upon my steed, quickly wheeling her around to face the approaching company.

"Quickly now! We mustn't be delayed nor confronted if we can so avoid it." We urge our horses onwards, towards the white towers gleaming on the southern horizon. And towards the nearing calvary, we know now that they are indeed warriors for we can see the morning sun glinting off their shields amidst the great cloud of dust rising in their wake. We set our horses to a rapid canter, hoping to reach Minas Tirith by the noonday meal. But, alas, we do not control fate, for it spins its webs of tricks and illusions to lure us into its fearsome maw. Yes, fate is a cruel master.
    The muted thud of our three horses' hooves soon combine with the thunder of their hundreds, shaking the earth beneath us so that our supplies rattle in its holdings. Nearer and nearer they draw, never straying from their path. We veer off, giving them a wide berth in which to pass. Yet as they advance a bugle sounds. Its war like tune commands us to rein in our horses, and the unspoken challenge in their eyes dares us to do otherwise. If we stay we risk delay and possible death. The ulterior consequence, however, is certain death for we would not make it forty yards before their archers brought us down. I can feel the eyes of the brother's upon me, awaiting my decision. I straighten my spin, drawing in a long breath before gently easing Korian back to a slower pace, turning her gently towards them.

"Hail travelers! What brings you here this day?" calls out a man, bearing a rich wine-colored cloak upon his shoulder. The assemblage is like none I have seen before-both men and Elves gathered together. Out of the corner of my eye I see Elrohir begin to open his mouth. I quickly urge Korian a step forwards, effectively silencing the impetuous response about to pour from his lips.

"I was sent by my Lord Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm, with a message to Elrond Umdomiel, Lord of Rivendell. And King Elendil, Master of the halls of Gondor." One glance at his features tells me that he is skeptical of my counter.

"Then pray tell why you ride in the armor of an assassin? And with two wealthy Lords at your side? For surely you are no normal messenger." I feign a sigh, placing my forehead against my palm as if to signify his stupidity.

"Nay, I am not so. For evil tidings follow me this day. As for the armor I apologize for my appearance, I had not the time to change before we were set upon. As for the Lords at my side we chanced upon each other by accident in the woods, they asked for my protection and I granted it willingly." His face still holds wariness, but it is much less than what it originally had been.

"Then, what news do you bring us?" His eyes glint with with an expression I do not understand. I can sense good in him yes, but there is also great evil lurking there. He is one of whom to be wary.

"That is for the ears of the Masters, and the ears of the Masters alone, not for some impulsive young warrior to act upon-even if he be granted leadership of his Lord's men. Nay, it will be said to them and them only." The man's face is one of shock and anger, his eyes blaze with a fury of confusion as my words begin to sink their teeth into his mind. One of the Elves, borne upon a light silky grey, urges his horse forwards to draw alongside his imprudent captain.