Murder: A LOTR One-Shot

Murder

Beads of sweat glistened on his brow. A dark blue scarf covered his face, wet with sweat due to the scorching sun above his head.Grey hood hiding brown hair, 2 grey gleaming eyes barely discernible under it. His twin swords rattled along his side, their sheaths covered in runes not known in those parts, with water waves skilfully carved in them. His metal boots raised sand behind them, leaving a track behind. His dark trousers and cloak were caked in sand.

It was mid day, the sun above his head being guided by Arien. He squinted to see waves of sand coming his direction, moving as swiftly as a desert scorpion after its prey. He sprinted to a nearby dune, crouching and covering himself from the sandstorm taking place. It was a while when the wind's power reduced from a gale to a peaceful breeze. A small figure covered in sand could only be discerned by a keen eye.

He slowly moved and the loose sand fell around him. He heaved himself up, coughing as the foreign particles entered his nose. He looked around for danger, finding none he leaned against the dune, closed his eyes and dozed off.

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He woke with a jerk. Deep breaths he thought only a nightmare. He looked around, it was dawn. The horizon was a deep blue colour like his scarf. He sighed contentedly shivering a little from the cold. He drank from his water skin and ate a special bread made for long journeys. He got up and dusted himself, looking around for the path he should take. Good thing i did not stray far away from the path when the storm came. He took a deep breath and marched onward.

He surveyed the desert. A cloud of dust he could see, like a viper coming his way. He spotted a desert scorpion too late as it came upon him. He unsheathed his curved blade, as it gleamed in sunlight. The scorpion went beneath his legs. It raced around him creating a cloud of dust. Soon he was choking and spluttering to get a breath. Clever animal. Before he could think, he howled as excruciating pain took hold off his leg, it felt like hundred hot needles being pricked in his leg. He regained his wits quickly and took hold of the scorpion's stinger. He could practically hear it hiss. What are you? A servant of evil? In a split second he produced a dagger from his boot and stabbed the predator in its gut. It lay sprawled on the sand, jerking in pain as the life left its body.

He took a small bottle of wine(used for medical purposes as he did not drink during journeys) and dripped on his wound, he hissed in agony as the wound felt like fire. It better not be poisoned or I am dead. He tore a piece from his already ragged cloak used for make shift bandages, and tied a piece around his wound. He staggered forward only to fall. Guess this is my camp today he thought humourlessly.

I thought of where I was going. Whether my identity would be kept secret? Would I be caught? Will the nightmares come? What will I do when I reach my destination? Will I ever make it? Is my wound fatal? Can I sleep without fear of encountering another scorpion? So many questions and not enough answers!

He did not remember when he went to sleep, though when he woke sun had started to shine through the hills. He moved his leg. I can manage. He stood up and winced as he put weight on the leg. I guess. He slowly limped forward.

2 days later (of much toil though no trouble)

He stood upon a a high hill. It was midday and everything was hot and sticky. I need to take a bath. The sun made the banners of Abrakhân glow and reflect, making the golden scorpion on blue more ominous. Abrakhân he rolled the word. I hope I live to see another day. He slowly started the trek down the hill.

It was night when he reached the city. I do want to see the Golden King but if the rumours are true then I don't want to trade my life to look upon His majesty. The city was alight by numerous fires. Every street was lined with them. He saw an inn and made for it. No more sleeping in the desert at last! He put his hand on the scarf to make sure that it covered his face and specifically his ears. He put his hood up for extra assurance.

When he entered, much to his dislike he drew too much attention. Especially a group of Haradrim men with beady eyes who sat in the corner in front of the inn's door.

"Give me one room for a few nights." he asked at the counter.

"Alright sire! Would you like me to bring in dinner for you? " The bartender asked politely.

"Uhh.... sure." He answered, looking back at the group of men.

"3rd room on the left, second floor." answered the man giving him the keys, smiling toothily.

"Thank you" He answered and made for the stairs.

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It was night. Stamping of boots on wooden floor could be heard. The door was knocked. Then rattled as it was hit with axes. Each time the blows getting stronger. The hinges creaked. Suddenly the door splintered into million pieces, big, small and minute. In marched the four Haradrims......

They marched near the bed and surrounded it. Muscles rippled as each of them beheld their respective axe, raising to land deathly blows on their victim. But before anyone could move a muscle, red stained the sheets and the wooden floor, gurgling was discernible. Outside an owl could be heard hooting perched on a tree as moonlight filtered into the room for anyone to behold the terrible sight......

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How's the story bad or good?? Lemme know. Wat do u guys think bout the ending??

GerithorDunedain

Silvan_Elleth