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

Chapter 23: An Invitation

The strange army stopped a short distance away, and an eerie silence pervaded the battlefield that had moments before been full of the sounds of war. Unsure of what to do, I consulted with my companions in a hushed tone.

"Well, they're not hostile... At least, not yet," I said, studying the newcomers from afar as best as I could manage.

"Let us hope they stay that way," Caledorn asserted as he glanced over his shoulder at the strangers, eyes narrowed in what had come to be the elf's signature expression.

Nadow's expression was one of uncertainty, his bare arm muscles tense with anticipation. "We should send someone to treat with them."

"I'll go. Hadar will go with me, and the rest of you shall stay behind." I pulled my silken scarf away from my face and took a deep breath. "Stay wary, just in case."

Just as we finished our discussion, it seemed as if the strangers had finished a parley of their own. Three riders split from the main army and made their way slowly toward us, waving a tattered piece of black cloth on a bamboo pole. I once more covered my face with my scarf and spurred my horse forward, her hooves kicking up sand behind me. As we got closer, I was able to discern more details. Their faces were each covered with grotesque metal masks into which strange faces seemed to be engraved, none of which were alike to each other. The rest of their heads were covered in scarves, except for the leader who wore a strange, horned helmet that matched the color of his mask. The beasts they rode were solidly built herbivores of some sort, similar in demeanor to the Mumakil of the Haradrim but significantly smaller. Horns protruded from the front of their faces, as well as along the sides, but their snouts were short and more akin to a cow or horse than a Mumak. Their skin was leathery, a tannish brown color that would've blended in well to the rocky hills of the northern steppes of Rhûn.

The helmeted man made several strange clicking noises to the other two men, and they all stopped. I raised a hand and Hadar and I stopped as well, about ten yards from the strangers. Our horses seemed unwilling to draw any nearer to the large creatures they rode, whinnying nervously and prancing to and fro in the hot sand.

"Do you understand me?" I said loudly after a moment, enunciating each word as clearly as I could.

There came no response. The silence was uncomfortable... Almost unnatural. Our horses were restless, and it was all I could do to keep Sirdal from bolting. The strangers were still, and their creatures didn't move a muscle.

"I am Rukil," I said as I pointed at myself.

Again, no response. After a moment I decided that I would stay silent as well and make them make the next move, since they didn't seem eager to reply to me.

Finally, the leader stirred. It was a slight motion, no more than a shifting in the saddle, but it was more than any of them had done thus far.

"Rukil is a... Good name," the rider said haltingly as his head dipped in a slight bow. The slow, lilting way in which he spoke displayed that his grasp of Common Speech was poor, or at the very least unpracticed.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"My name is Ryuna. These, Hatamo, Tagashi," he motioned toward his companions, and they too bowed. The man named Hatamo, who wore a bright silver mask engraved with a single teardrop, goaded his steed closer.

"I am the only one among us who speaks your tongue well," he said, his accent decidedly different from his companion's and far more comprehensible. "I will translate for Preliator Ryuna." After saying this he turned to Ryuna and made a series of clicking noises, and Ryuna responded in kind.

"First, he wishes to extend his thanks for aiding us in defeating the orcs. Orcs are a scourge, and it is indeed good to see enemies of them. Second, he wishes to know your business here, for you will soon be entering our land."