Note: This chapter deals with suicidal themes and alcohol. Skip to the divider if those easily bother you.

Darkening shadows bled over the streets of Morgothrone as the sun finally set, staining them in black. The streets emptied at nighttime, as it was known by most that only the shadiest of the city's denizens wandered at night.

   I didn't care. I passed by several cloaked men, each of whom were immediately deterred from approaching me by the weapons at my side. They were in search of easier prey.

I soon found myself on the walls, feet dragging as I reached the edge.  As I came to a halt I could see the whole city in front of me: A thousand lights glittering like stars from the windows of the endless buildings that lined the streets. 

But despite a city full of people, I was completely and utterly alone. 

My bloodshot eyes slowly moved down, until I was looking over the edge of the wall to the ground dozens of feet below. Nobody would even care if I fell... 

I took a step forward, my foot dangling over the emptiness. I had never believed in an afterlife, for whatever gods dwelt above were surely too twisted to grant us that mercy, but at least ending it all here would snatch me from the darkness that sought to claim me in my despair. 

I closed my eyes, feeling the wet tears on my lashes as I took a deep breath. I hadn't been brave enough for Layala, surely I was at least brave enough for this...

A voice suddenly echoed through my mind. It was Layala's, but something was indecipherably different. 

 "You have to let me go. Promise me you'll make a new life for yourself. A good one. Please?"  It came as if from afar, but it hit me with the force of a well placed kick to the abdomen. 

I took a step back, opening my eyes as my heartbeat began to quicken. I couldn't afford to think so hopelessly... Even if it was all I could do.

I needed to not think at all at the moment, or else I would return to despair once more. In my depressed state, there was only one thing I could think of that would help with that: alcohol.

   I made my way down the silent streets until I reached a small building. A sign hung beside the door that read "The Full Flagon".

   I opened the door and was greeted by the sound of uproarious laughter, and glass shattering. I took in my surroundings, looking for an empty spot to sit.

There was a vast assortment of men and women within, many of them from the far reaches of Rhun. Balchoth tribesmen in their distinctive fur caps, merchants from Serakesh dressed in fine linen, and bearded slavers from Runakesh were just a few of the denizens whose origins I immediately recognized.

   The majority of the bar's patrons were gathered around the fireplace, in front of which two men were wrestling. I went to the far corner of the room and took a seat alone. The bartender brought a bottle of ale over, and I ended up drinking several mugs of it.

   Unfortunately, someone familiar was also at the tavern and as soon as he saw me, he began making his way toward me. I recognized the Fat Man immediately, though I had forgotten his name.

   "Rukil! I thought I'd find you out here somewhere celebrating your victory!" He spoke loudly, which drew the attention of several in the tavern.

   "Shut up," I growled at the Fat Man, roughly grabbing his wrist. "Tell me why you're talking to me, or leave. I'm in no mood for games."

   His eyes widened a little, but he laughed regardless, his large belly shaking. "I meant no offense my good man! I am merely here to talk about the deal we had with your master!"

   I narrowed my eyes. "Do refresh me about this 'deal'."

   The Fat Man chuckled a little more. "Have you already forgotten? Or did the thrill of battle banish it from your mind?"

   At the mention of the fight I lunged over the table and grabbed him by the neck. "If you mention the Pit one more time, you won't be able to walk out of here. So get on with it."

   I was slightly drunk, so I realized I was probably going a little overboard with the intimidation. But I really didn't care. About anything. I felt completely numb.

   "Fine, fine!" He gulped as his beady eyes bulged from their sockets. "My master, Lord Khanar, is one of the most powerful lords of Rhun. He marshals the second largest army we have, next only to the Khan's. His troops are also among the best trained. He watches the..." At this he trailed off, clearly not wanting to mention the fights again. I smirked slightly. "He watches fighters to gauge their skill, and the best of them are offered positions in his elite Lôke-Rim. Your skill has been tested, and you have been proven worthy. So, what do you say? Are you in?"

I thought for a moment. Right now I just wanted to die. To be honest, joining the Lôke-Rim might be the best way for that to happen.

"Fine. Where do I report to?" My words were slightly slurred, but my mind was clear enough. Probably. I just wanted to be rid of this repulsive slug of a man...

The Fat Man raised his eyebrows in surprise. It seemed as if he hadn't expected me to agree that easily. "Um, go to our camp outside the city tomorrow morning. Tell them I sent you and they'll get you armored up. Our Lord may want to speak with you as well." With that the Fat Man rose up laboriously from his seat. "Welcome to the War!" He said and laughed, then waddled away into the crowd.

"Hey, wait!" I exclaimed, but my voice was drowned by the clamor of the tavern.

What war was he talking about?

===============================

"The Final War has begun," Lord Khanar explained as he came to a table displaying a map. He pointed at a region directly west of Mordor. "Gondor has been an enemy of Sauron for as long as we can remember. We have unofficially been Sauron's allies for decades now, but an official alliance has at long last been brokered between us and him; A reliving of the glory days of old, perhaps." He turned to look at me. He was of noble stature, and his face was kindly, yet stern at the same time. The only strange thing about his appearance was his eyes; they were red like blood. As if the veins had somehow burst and had never fully healed.

"Why did we wait until now to ally with Sauron?" I asked.

"Coming from a small tribe I'm sure you know little of politics. No offense of course," Khanar said, looking back at the map. "Allow me to explain. An open alliance with Sauron would put us at odds with the forces of Gondor, Mirkwood, and the dwarves. We could not previously risk open war with them, especially the dwarves. With the Iron Hills at our doorstep the dwarves would attack quickly and brutally. Now, however, we are strong enough. On top of that, an influential chieftain cast his vote in favor of the alliance... Outnumbering the Khan and sealing our decision. You know that chieftain well," he said with a wry expression. "He is your brother."

I recoiled slightly at the words. "Ramil swore allegiance to the Dark Lord?" 

Khanar raised an eyebrow in surprise. "It was unexpected to you? Perhaps you haven't been keeping up with the politics of your own people. When Ramil took the throne he swore fealty to another chieftain who was already loyal to Sauron." 

I frowned. I knew he was weak. I didn't know he was that weak.

"Our alliance now means we have the aid of Sauron's forces as well as our own," Khanar continued. "We are openly at war with Gondor and the elves of Mirkwood. The dwarves haven't responded to our provocations yet. For now, our forces will be 'prodding the warg' so to speak... We'll be attacking several frontier towns to gauge the Gondorian's reaction. We think that their forces are relatively weak, but we don't know for certain. The attacks will also be for show, to display the might of Rhun. Which is why the Lôke-Rim are being sent. They are the best of our soldiers and will send a clear message to the enemy."

   I stood in thought for a moment, then slowly began to speak. "So... We're going to Gondor? What exactly have they done against us?"

   Lord Khanar narrowed his eyes. "We've been at war with them in the past. They've burned our cities and killed our people. Recently, a small force of archers burned down a Balchoth border village. This is more or less revenge; As well as a show of loyalty to the Dark Lord." He walked around the table and drew closer to me.

   "Do you really think it would be wise to anger him? Even if some of us don't agree with him, he's much too powerful. And, of course, the majority of the tribes are wholeheartedly loyal to him. You must stay on your feet in this game of politics Rukil... Otherwise you'll be trampled underfoot by those that do." He spoke in a confidential tone of voice and leaned in, speaking at a whisper. "I know your lineage. While the Dorgeshi are a small tribe, they are deep in the hotbed of conspiracies and backstabbing. As a prince of that tribe you will eventually have to claim your throne, humble as it is. Learn this lesson well. Always serve the one who holds the most power. And if they lose that power..." He made a slitting motion across his throat. "It's nothing personal. It's merely politics." He raised an eyebrow. "But you... You are loyal. Don't let anyone forget that. At least until the time is right." 

Something about his words unnerved me. His intentions seemed decent, but there was much left unsaid. I did not know where he truly stood.

I nodded slightly and left the tent, careful not to betray my doubts to him. 

It was entirely possible that he meant he wasn't loyal to Sauron. Or at least, that's what he wanted me to believe. Why he trusted me with that information was beyond me. He knew next to nothing about me as far as I knew. Then it dawned on me... He needed allies. If an alliance with Sauron had been brokered, the tribes would likely fight. And no matter what side Khanar was on, he would need to find out who his friends were.

I walked to the armory, still contemplating what I had learned. No. I wasn't going to claim my title. I would just stay a soldier until I died. Nobody cared about me except to use me for their own gain.

I was so deep in thought that I didn't notice the Haradrim until it was too late. I walked right into him, knocking us both to the ground.

I quickly sprang up and helped him to his feet. I recognized him as the one from the Pit. He chuckled.

   "Watch where you're going my good man! Surely you aren't so oblivious that you didn't see me!" The Haradrim puffed out his chest, making him seem even larger. He was a mass of muscle.

   "I was thinking," I said apologetically. He seemed like an amiable fellow and I didn't wish to upset him.

"Does thinking make you blind?" His voice was deep but friendly, and carried the distinctive accent of Harad.

"I am sorry, it won't happen again," I nodded and began to make my way past him, but he put an arm out to stop me.

"What is your name friend? I recognize you from the Pit but I don't recall your name."

I paused. "Rukil. My name is Rukil," I said quietly after a moment.

"Nice to make your acquaintance!" The Haradrim put a hand to his chest. "I am called Hadar."

"A pleasure," I nodded my head and held out my hand.

Unexpectedly Hadar wrapped me up in a tight bear hug. "I am not sure how you greet people in your land, but we Haradrim feel kinship to our brothers in Rhun. So I shall greet you as a brother."

I tried to breathe but couldn't, his grip was too tight. I gasped and tapped his shoulder, and he released me. I took a deep breath of air.

"Well we shall be fighting alongside each other, unless you're not in the Lôke-Rim," I said.

"Well I am not! But I'll be fighting alongside you nonetheless. I joined a band of mercenaries that was hired by your lord." He gave me a toothy grin.

"You were busy!" I exclaimed, surprised that he had done that much in one day.

"I've been in mercenary groups before. It's not hard to join them if you know where to look. I'm sure I get paid more than you also," he raised an eyebrow.

"My wage is thirty silver per week." I grinned slightly. He frowned.

"Perhaps I should have joined you then. We get paid per kill."

I laughed. "You'd better hope these Gondorians are bad fighters then!"

   Hadar scowled. "To be truthful, I don't want to kill them. When I signed on I hoped we'd be killing orcs, or even dwarves. Not other men. I had enough of that in the Pit."

   I hadn't thought about that. I shrugged it off for the moment, not wanting to consider it.

   "I'm sure they're cruel men, if what I've heard is true," I spoke reassuringly.

   Hadar looked at the ground. "I hope you are right." He kicked a small rock and looked up. "Regardless, I am glad I know someone in this group now." I smiled and saluted.

   "I hope we talk again soon," I returned the smile and turned away, making my way toward the armory.

===============================

"What'll it be?" The man behind the counter said. All of the armor was in the back room, so I wouldn't be able to choose.

"I'm in the Lôke-Rim," I said simply and slid an identification paper over the counter. He examined it and walked into the back room.

"It'll be just a moment sir, wait there." He called from the other room.

I took a seat on a bench, and waited. A moment later the blond man from the Pit entered, looking around nervously. His eyes landed on me and he quickly looked away.

Leaning on the counter, he looked back into the room the armorer had entered.

"He'll be out soon," I said. The blond man jumped at my voice and looked back at me.

"Oh... Uh... You're Rukil right?" He ran a hand through his short curly hair.

"Yes, and you are?" I asked. I assumed he heard the announcers say my name, and that's why he knew.

"I'm Déorbrand. Brand for short." He smiled awkwardly.

"Déorbrand... That's an unusual name. Not from Rhun I take it?" I tried to sound friendly, since the man was clearly nervous.

"I'm... I'm from Rohan." He scratched his head.

I raised an eyebrow. "Rohan? That's impressive, you'll have to tell me about it sometime." I smiled.

   "I don't remember it. I was kidnapped when I was an infant." He turned around as the armorer came out with my armor.

   "Here you go sir! It should fit. Come back if it doesn't." He looked at Brand. "How can I help you?"

  I left the building and strode back to the campsite. Things were changing. It was a chance for me to begin again, start over. But I'd never forget Layala.

End of Part 1