Fresh Air (February 3010) - [Khamul]
Oct 12, 2017 7:02:11 GMT -5
Post by Runa on Oct 12, 2017 7:02:11 GMT -5
The moment the guards had clamped their hands on him, Khamul had grown incredibly strong. The change in his demeanor was like the smoke before fire; Runa could read it in warning.
“I go nowhere unless My Lord tells me.”
He was tossing the guards about as if they were no more than the doll he had handed to her earlier. His Lord? Who in Arda was that? The man—no, the monster—was eyeing her, and Runa held his gaze with defiance despite her unease. Whatever this creature was, she had a suspicion that she was sorely outmatched. Still, her face was of ice and steel, and she tried to keep all such hints of her anxiety hidden beneath her fiery mask.
Then, he changed. He was no longer a man. He was robed, dark and full, long fingers in jointed plates of metal that like claws gripped the most sinister, simple sword Runa had ever seen. The very sight of it sent waves of chill through her blood.
“Do not come between a nazgûl and his duties to his Dark Master. You should had left me be while you still had the chance, fools.”
She could read Khamul’s first strike in his shoulders before he had done it, Runa turned, sweeping Paega up into her arms, tucking her head against her shoulder, and using her body as a shield against the sights.
The guards started to yell cries of pain, and Paega immediately erupted into hysterical screams. “Close you eyes, Paega,” Runa ordered as gently as she could. She tried to move, but it was almost impossible.
The guards must have been slain; the Nazgul was speaking now to her directly. “And now what will you do? A simple maiden like yourself cannot touch death unless she falls into it. You have a child with you. I suggest not risking her life.”
Paega was shrieking, tears rolling down her cheeks. Runa managed another step, glancing to the hooded figure as he closed the space between them. There was nothing to do; her weapons were at home. “Even if I can do nothing to fight back,” Runa said. “Know that I will defy you with my last breath if I must. I will not let you have her.”
“Wuna!” The girl wailed. Her small hands were clinging to her with white knuckles. The little girl in her arms had defied odds when she had been brought in to her, carved by orcs and with no family left. Runa had vowed she was not going to lose such a small, precious thing—and in the past months, had grown to love her beyond that promise. If she needed to lay her life down to save Paega, if she could save Paega, she would. Her heart writhed. Ceolmund would understand.
“It’s all right, Paega. Now, when I tell you to, you’re going to run all the way to the House, okay?”
“No!” The girl screeched.
The cloaked figure was human again. Whatever sorcery this was, Runa could not fathom. He was crossing to her.
“Ready, sweetheart? You can be brave for me, right? For your Runa?” Paega should not be running. She was not well enough. But Runa’s mother would be able to tend her. To heal her. And Ceolmund would forgive her. “Run!”
She dropped the girl to her feet and turned, lifting her hands in guard as the little blonde girl raced up through the streets, tears and sobs following in her wake. The toymaker took off after her, and Runa felt relief, however short. He would see to it that she made it. Maybe she would not need to run after all.
Runa steeled herself to fight, she steeled herself to lose. But as Khamul came forward, something interrupted him. He screeched, he writhed. Runa stumbled back and away.
“Forgive me Master.”
The croak was feeble, and Runa’s heart stilled as he stood and looked to her. She said nothing, but waited. Khamul seemed to be deliberating himself.
More guards were coming, the panic in the market had alerted everyone of a problem. Runa’s breaths were slow, shallow; she waited.
Khamul turned and disappeared. Runa gasped.
“My lady! My lady!” The guardsmen looked to her, and reached to touch her shoulder. She had not realized she was covered in the blood of those unfortunate guards who had been the first to approach him.
“I—I—” Runa could not form words. “I need the herbs for the House.”
One of the men looked at her pityingly. “My lady, please, see yourself to the healers yourself. I will have my men deliver the herbs from the herbalist.”
Slowly, Runa nodded, and as if in a dream moved back toward the Healing House.
--
She had managed to settle Paega faintly with the use of herbs and caresses, and had managed to help her fall asleep. Oda, the head healer, had soon come and asked Runa to leave for rest herself. News of the market had spread through Edoras like flame, and Runa did not look entirely well.
Hildred, Runa’s mother, offered to watch the girl while Runa went home to sleep. She did not say that she was frightened for her daughter, and nervous that such a thing had happened the very first time Ceolmund was away, but Runa could see it. “I will be by to check on you after work,” Hildred assured her.
Runa finally relented, her stubbornness fading as her stomach and nerves continued to churn. She went home, washed, changed into her nightdress and climbed into her bed as if in a fog. It was quiet in her home, and she was not sure that today that was welcome. She reached for Ceolmund’s pillow and pulled it close, and letting the familiar scent eventually lull her to relax enough to sleep.
“I go nowhere unless My Lord tells me.”
He was tossing the guards about as if they were no more than the doll he had handed to her earlier. His Lord? Who in Arda was that? The man—no, the monster—was eyeing her, and Runa held his gaze with defiance despite her unease. Whatever this creature was, she had a suspicion that she was sorely outmatched. Still, her face was of ice and steel, and she tried to keep all such hints of her anxiety hidden beneath her fiery mask.
Then, he changed. He was no longer a man. He was robed, dark and full, long fingers in jointed plates of metal that like claws gripped the most sinister, simple sword Runa had ever seen. The very sight of it sent waves of chill through her blood.
“Do not come between a nazgûl and his duties to his Dark Master. You should had left me be while you still had the chance, fools.”
She could read Khamul’s first strike in his shoulders before he had done it, Runa turned, sweeping Paega up into her arms, tucking her head against her shoulder, and using her body as a shield against the sights.
The guards started to yell cries of pain, and Paega immediately erupted into hysterical screams. “Close you eyes, Paega,” Runa ordered as gently as she could. She tried to move, but it was almost impossible.
The guards must have been slain; the Nazgul was speaking now to her directly. “And now what will you do? A simple maiden like yourself cannot touch death unless she falls into it. You have a child with you. I suggest not risking her life.”
Paega was shrieking, tears rolling down her cheeks. Runa managed another step, glancing to the hooded figure as he closed the space between them. There was nothing to do; her weapons were at home. “Even if I can do nothing to fight back,” Runa said. “Know that I will defy you with my last breath if I must. I will not let you have her.”
“Wuna!” The girl wailed. Her small hands were clinging to her with white knuckles. The little girl in her arms had defied odds when she had been brought in to her, carved by orcs and with no family left. Runa had vowed she was not going to lose such a small, precious thing—and in the past months, had grown to love her beyond that promise. If she needed to lay her life down to save Paega, if she could save Paega, she would. Her heart writhed. Ceolmund would understand.
“It’s all right, Paega. Now, when I tell you to, you’re going to run all the way to the House, okay?”
“No!” The girl screeched.
The cloaked figure was human again. Whatever sorcery this was, Runa could not fathom. He was crossing to her.
“Ready, sweetheart? You can be brave for me, right? For your Runa?” Paega should not be running. She was not well enough. But Runa’s mother would be able to tend her. To heal her. And Ceolmund would forgive her. “Run!”
She dropped the girl to her feet and turned, lifting her hands in guard as the little blonde girl raced up through the streets, tears and sobs following in her wake. The toymaker took off after her, and Runa felt relief, however short. He would see to it that she made it. Maybe she would not need to run after all.
Runa steeled herself to fight, she steeled herself to lose. But as Khamul came forward, something interrupted him. He screeched, he writhed. Runa stumbled back and away.
“Forgive me Master.”
The croak was feeble, and Runa’s heart stilled as he stood and looked to her. She said nothing, but waited. Khamul seemed to be deliberating himself.
More guards were coming, the panic in the market had alerted everyone of a problem. Runa’s breaths were slow, shallow; she waited.
Khamul turned and disappeared. Runa gasped.
“My lady! My lady!” The guardsmen looked to her, and reached to touch her shoulder. She had not realized she was covered in the blood of those unfortunate guards who had been the first to approach him.
“I—I—” Runa could not form words. “I need the herbs for the House.”
One of the men looked at her pityingly. “My lady, please, see yourself to the healers yourself. I will have my men deliver the herbs from the herbalist.”
Slowly, Runa nodded, and as if in a dream moved back toward the Healing House.
--
She had managed to settle Paega faintly with the use of herbs and caresses, and had managed to help her fall asleep. Oda, the head healer, had soon come and asked Runa to leave for rest herself. News of the market had spread through Edoras like flame, and Runa did not look entirely well.
Hildred, Runa’s mother, offered to watch the girl while Runa went home to sleep. She did not say that she was frightened for her daughter, and nervous that such a thing had happened the very first time Ceolmund was away, but Runa could see it. “I will be by to check on you after work,” Hildred assured her.
Runa finally relented, her stubbornness fading as her stomach and nerves continued to churn. She went home, washed, changed into her nightdress and climbed into her bed as if in a fog. It was quiet in her home, and she was not sure that today that was welcome. She reached for Ceolmund’s pillow and pulled it close, and letting the familiar scent eventually lull her to relax enough to sleep.