Tears of the Valar

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the Original Characters and their adventures. Everything else belongs to JRR Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema/Peter Jackson, et. al. This was done purely for entertainment and as an exercise in creativity.
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“This is not what I signed up for,” the Khandun soldier commented to his companion as they searched through the village for signs of survivors. Not that there were ever very many. The Dark Force did not leave any alive if they crossed the beasts’ paths.

“Quiet, you fool!” the second soldier exclaimed in a harsh whisper. “You will be food for the creatures yourself if you continue to complain.”

“I am not complaining,” his fellow soldier replied, opening the door to a dark building and looking for any signs of life. “General Vetoran is a good commander and I have always been happy in his service.” Nothing moved and he did not feel compelled to go inside to search further.

“Aye; and General Peferio has always been fair as well,” the second soldier agreed. He did not suggest they go into the building. If there was no sign of visible life, there was no need for them to continue. And, if any happened to be hiding … well, they did not seem to be here.

“Still,” the first soldier continued, in a low voice, “This business of killing our own people---women and children, old men---people who have not rebelled against the Great Lord … It is not good. I did not become a soldier to slaughter my own people.”

“You will be killed if any others hear you,” his friend warned.

“I am not the only one who feels this way,” his companion retorted.

They entered another building and gave a cursory glance around the room. It was little more than a pile of debris now, though once it had been someone’s humble, yet cozy home, not dissimilar to the homes the soldiers had left when the army had been ordered to march.

The second soldier scanned the piles of rubble and saw nothing of note. As he was turning to leave, however, his gaze was captured by two points of light. It took a second to realize it was light from the door reflected in a pair of very wide, very frightened eyes.

A young woman, or so it seemed, stared back at him, sheer terror on her face. His hand tightened on his sword’s grip and he knew his orders were to kill her. There were to be no survivors left. Still, he did not move.

“Let us go, there is nothing here,” he finally told his companion. He turned and followed the first soldier out of the door, closing it firmly behind him before moving on to the next house.


“How many required execution?” Vetoran asked the group of captains gathered in the command tent.

“Only twenty, general,” the senior captain replied.

The Khandun commander raised a brow. “A small number,” he mused. “The Dark force must have been remarkably efficient.”

“Indeed they were, my lord,” the man answered calmly.

Vetoran nodded, though he knew very well the soldiers had not searched as thoroughly as it might have appeared. Likely those they had killed had been severely wounded and their deaths were actually kindnesses. It had become an unspoken understanding among those of the Khandun army. What was not witnessed did not exist.

“We will be in Rhun soon and the fighting will be much different,” Peferio told the gathered officers. Crasthion stood in the corner, his face hidden in shadow. Since receiving Lastharos’ message about his household, he had been reserved, not speaking much.

“Does Rhun know we march against them?” one of the commanders asked.

“We do not believe so and our forward scouts have reported no signs of increased defenses,” Peferio answered. “There are only two more towns between here and the border. The last is the largest, best fortified city in this part of the realm. It can withstand a siege and so we must be prepared for a harsh campaign.”

“The Dark Force will likely leave them all dead,” one of the commanders commented and the others nodded. The clean-up after the creatures had done their work was not pleasant though it spared them much of what made up a war.

“We will see what happens,” Vetoran replied, dismissing the commanders. After they had filed out he turned to where Crasthion remained in shadow. “We soon approach the city of your birth. Do you still have family there?”

The young man shook his head. “My parents are dead and went back to their ‘duties’ as Lastharos’ lovers after I was born.” The disgust in his voice was apparent. “Their families are likely all dead as well.”

“What of Rhun?” Peferio asked. “Your father was of Rhun and your mother half Rhunian. What of their kin in that country?”

“I do not know them,” Crasthion answered. “My father never spoke of that part of their lives. I did not know they were not Khandun until shortly before he died.” Though he had been fairly young at the time, he remembered being told of his father’s death. Lastharos had even spoken kindly to him about his father. He knew the Ruler did not truly feel kindness or compassion, but it seemed Lastharos had held some regard for Crasthion’s parents.

Sui lay on the floor of Lastharos’ private chamber, her breath coming in harsh gasps. He had spent the afternoon hoisting her from the floor with a rough rope around her neck. Her hands were tied behind her back and she could not reach up to loosen the noose. He pulled it just high enough that her toes barely touched the floor and would then whip her. She could not help but writhe, trying to escape and as a result would lose what little bit of footing she had. She would struggle, trying to breathe and just before she lost consciousness, he would release her, letting her drop to the floor. She would catch her breath and pray the ordeal was finished, but he would once again jerk her to her feet and begin the process over again.

The Ruler of Khand was in a foul mood, even for him. Every day he became more and more convinced Crasthion was fomenting rebellion against his rule. Since he did not have the young general in his grasp, he decided punishing the man’s favorite bedslave would have to suffice.

He looked down at the woman who lay in a crumpled heap at the center of the room. She was strong, he would admit. She had endured much at his hand and still breathed. Walking over to his throne and sitting down with a goblet of chilled wine, he sipped and studied her as she tried to regain her bearings.

“Who were your parents?” he asked her abruptly.

Sui raised her head and tried to focus on the Khandun Leader. He was draped casually across his chair, beautiful and cold. She thought how incongruous his looks were when compared to his evil ways. Surely, someone so fair should be kind and noble; yet Lastharos was cruel, vicious and completely without even a sliver of kindness.

“I do not know,” she croaked, her throat swollen and sore from all she had endured. “I was bred of slaves and brought up in the pens. When I was old enough to learn, I was taken and groomed to be a bedslave.”

“Were you born into Crasthion’s household?”

“No, Mighty One. I was born and bred in the pens. I did not know my mother or my father. I was given to my lord as a gift though I did not go to his bed until recently.”

“What did you do in the meantime?” Lastharos could not believe this lovely morsel had remained unused during the years between her arrival in Crasthion’s household and her service in the traitor’s bed.

“Do my lord?” She seemed confused by his question.

“Yes. What did you do until he took you to his bed?”

She thought for a moment. “I learned of his ways and the ways of his house. I also helped with the sewing and flowers.”

“A waste,” Lastharos commented dismissively. “Obviously he did not know how to use you appropriately.”

Sui said nothing. For one thing, it was too painful; for another, it would only earn more punishment. At a gesture from Lastharos, she crawled across the floor on her knees, her hands still tied behind her back. He nodded to his lap and she untied his leggings with her teeth. At least she had been trained well.

“To soothe your throat,” the beautiful but vile Khandun told her in a voice that sounded almost sincerely concerned for her well-being.

Sui opened her mouth and took him down her swollen throat. It hurt and she still had trouble breathing. Not being able to use her hands made it even more difficult. Still, it was what she had been taught to do.

“It only adds to the proof that he is not a true Khandun,” Lastharos continued after taking a thoughtful sip of the wine. “He is far too soft and seeks to defy me passively. That choice will soon be out of his hands, however,” he added with a smile. The messenger of the Dark Force had left that morning and would take the orders to the others of his kind. Lastharos’ generals were in for a surprise.

Small open areas allowed the Elven party to rest with their mounts on their journey through the crevasse. The deeper they had gone, the smaller the crack allowing in light had become until finally they used the small vials of light to help guide them through the long, dark passageways.

No feelings of oppression or danger haunted them in this dark place as opposed to the sense of being watched by something … unkind that they had felt above the ground. No odd creatures were to be found in these tunnels either, a fact not lost upon the travelers.

“No worms, no beetles, nothing,” Elladan commented to Saelbeth as they shared a bite of lembas before retiring for a bit.

“No Shelob,” the blonde counselor had added. “I do believe I will always picture her whenever I am in any cave.”

“Then it is a good thing you did not dwell in your cousin’s kingdom,” Rumil told him with a smile. “There were many small Shelobs all over the land.”

Saelbeth laughed. “Indeed; on the occasions I visited Mirkwood I was convinced they would drag me away to her.”

“I did not think Elves were afraid of anything,” Alexandra commented as she leaned back against Glorfindel’s shoulder while Legolas fetched a blanket for her.

“On the contrary, there are many things we fear,” Elrohir replied. “We simply do not show it.”

“Well, some of us do not,” Vanurion interjected with a laugh. “I would likely bring shame to my kin if I were to encounter something like the spiders of Mirkwood. I abhor those things.”

Cunion laughed and then launched into a tale of their encountering a nest of the creatures inside of a barn once when they were elflings. Vanurion had not shown any sign of the brave and noble ellon he was to become, but had run, knocking over two crocks of fresh milk and causing several ellith to stumble and drop their weapons as he barreled out of the building, Cunion following, helpless from laughter.

“Then I will not invite you to my father’s realm,” Legolas told his friend with a smile. “Though the spiders are gone, their legacy remains and it is always possible they will haunt the deeper reaches of the forest from time to time.”

“A wise move,” Sarendir replied.

“Indeed,” added Pomea. “It will help our people save face.”

“Laugh all you wish,” Vanurion replied haughtily. “I have not seen you visiting the serpents’ dens.” He looked pointedly at Sarendir.

“Serpents are evil and will kill anything that moves,” the ellon replied. “It is not fear; merely prudence.”

The others chuckled and finally drifted into reverie one by one. Alexandra, nestled between Glorfindel and Legolas watched them curiously. She had never thought of Elves as having phobias or uncertainties. Still, it was only logical that they would. After all, they were living, sentient beings. All had fears; they just did not let their fears rule their lives.

Closing her eyes, she felt herself drifting off to sleep. Orophin and Naveradir were keeping watch and she knew she was as safe as she could ever be. The thought brought a smile to her lips as she fell into dreamless sleep.

In a remarkably short time they were through the mountains and emerging into the foothills of Khand. Turning toward the west they began the long journey home. Any time lost going further east would be made up by not having to climb up, across, then down the mountains. When they emerged, there was, as before, no sign in the face of the rocks that a passage existed.

“Apparently the Valar keep this place safe,” Erestor mused.

“Yes, but it seems Lastharos knows how to get there,” Glorfindel added bitterly.

At the mention of the Khandun leader’s name each member of the party had the same thought. They were so close to him here. Should they seek him and rid Arda of his evil polluting presence? The idea was quite tempting.

“It would be doing the people of Khand a favor to remove him from power,” Haldir suggested. He could not help but loathe the man who had tormented his brother’s beloved.

“But what if he is replaced by someone worse?” Erestor countered. “Is it the will of the Valar that we take him?”

“He has already committed acts of war against us,” Elrohir pointed out. “He took a free woman from Gondor and took the Prince of Mirkwood and Lord of the Elves of Ithilien. Then he abused them.”

“Sounds like an act of war to me,” his brother pronounced.

“Believe me, I am sympathetic to your feelings,” Glorfindel told the younger ellyn. “And Lastharos will be brought to justice.”

“We will still be in Khand for some time on our way back. It may be prudent for us to judge the atmosphere here and the lay of the land before deciding on an action.” Vanurion smiled at his western cousins. “As Glorfindel says, he will be brought to justice one way or another.”

“And we must remember,” Naveradir added, “to kill Lastharos would be considered an act of war on our part. Do we wish to drag all of our people into this fight? The Khandun army would be justified in retaliation. These things must be done carefully.”

“Indeed, if Lastharos has the love and support of his people, we may not attack him openly,” Saelbeth counseled. “Let us gather intelligence before doing anything rash.”

The others could see the wisdom in the older Elves’ words though they did not like them. Legolas, Haldir, Rumil, Orophin, Elladan, Elrohir and Alexandra all wished to find the man and give him a slow, painful and ignoble death, preferably immediately. They knew, however, the others were correct and so they decided to bide their time though none planned to leave Khand while he still lived.