Khamul rode like the wind through the land. She cut across fields and raced passed travelers. She didn't care who saw her, only that she found Aica before something happened. And something would happen, she was sure. Whatever reason Aica had for leaving Arnor, it couldn't possibly be good.
She crossed the river Loudwater and continued south, steering a course toward the towering gray peaks. The pass of Caradhras seemed daunting from what she'd heard about it, but Khamul was prepared to chance it if Aica thought she could get across. There was, of course, the possibility of enlisting dwarven aid, but no. Khamul was not going to go crawling to the little midgets.
She turned to the east the next day. The sun's rays glinted off red stone. Redhorn. Caradhras.
"I'm coming for you, Aica," Khamul snarled. "And when I find you, it's not going to be pretty!"
The next day Khamul happened to glance behind and noticed a large party of riders following her. Cursing, she urged her horse faster and hoped they turned away.
In fact, they started to catch up. What's the good of having an immortal horse, Khamul thought furiously, if it can't outrun the mortal ones?
"Sir rider!" someone shouted as their horse caught up with Khamul's. "Why do you run from us?"
"Because you're chasing me!" Khamul shouted back. "Go away!"
"We wish to speak with you!"
An arrow whizzed over her head and Khamul decided that these people probably hadn't wanted to talk in the first place.
"Damn you, you bastards," she muttered, kicking her horse.
"Nazgul!" a familiar voice shouted.
"Elrond!" Khamul cursed. "What're you doing so far from Imladris?"
"Slow down and I'll tell you!" the lord of Rivendell snapped. "You're killing our mounts!"
"Good! That means you'll slow down!"
"Or we'll just fill you so full of arrows even your immortal damned self won't be able to continue."
Khamul sighed and yanked on the reins. I can always run later, she thought. "What is it?" she asked as the horses slowed to a walk.
The elf party quickly surrounded her, and there wasn't an elf there whose hand wasn't on a weapon. They all eyed her warily, like she was a snake getting ready to strike.
"What are you doing so far from Angmar?" Elrond asked. "Have the Nazgul decided to venture forth?"
"I'm getting tired of telling people this," Khamul growled. "No, I'm chasing a stupid one who ran off."
There were a few chuckles from the elves. "The fallen Dark Lord's servants desert his successor," they murmured.
Let them think that, Khamul thought. It's actually, the Dark Lord's servants desert his lieutenant. But whatever you prefer.
"Why is this Nazgul fleeing?" Elrond asked.
"I don't know, because she's an idiot?" Khamul snapped. "I'll take care of her, don't worry. Now, what were you doing chasing me?"
"You are a ringwraith."
"So you chase me? If I was in a bad mood then that would've been a really terrible decision. And probably your last as well."
"I sensed that a dark power was abroad in the land," Elrond said. "I myself have left Rivendell for a journey to Lorien."
"Any particular reason?"
"I don't have to answer you, Nazgul."
"But I answered your questions," Khamul said. "You should reciprocate the favor."
Elrond frowned. "A friend of mine's son has taken gravely ill. He has brought his son to Lorien to see if the Lady Galadriel can heal him. I wish to be there to offer support."
"I thought elves didn't get sick," Khamul said. "Exceptions to every rule, huh?"
"Yes. I fear for him though." Elrond was about to say more but cut himself off when he realized he was spilling his thoughts and feelings to a Nazgul.
"Shame. Hope he feels better," Khamul said.
"Nazgul, the only reason we have not hacked you to pieces is because there is a truce between Angmar and Arthedain."
"Is there?" Khamul asked, surprised. "I didn't notice."
"There is," Elrond said, irritated. "The Great Plague damaged both countries, and you are too weak to attack each other. Lorien, Imladris, and Lindon honor this truce for as long as it lasts. For too long this land has been at war."
"It had peace for a very long time," Khamul pointed out. "A thousand years maybe."
"Still, it has been at war for nearly another thousand."
"Point taken. But when this truce ends?"
Elrond's eyes turned hard as stone. "We will kill you," he promised.
Khamul chuckled. "That's going to be fun to see," she said. "See you." She nudged her horse out of the encircling ring of elves and toward the mountains.
Well, well, well, a truce, eh? That was interesting news. Khamul wondered if even Morion knew about it.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.