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VENTURES INTO THE REMOTE (RP)

As his eyes opened, Ha'zi's heart pounded in his chest as his surroundings became clear. He breathed a bit stressfully at first, his  deathly nightmare still on his mind, before calming down at the sight of the sleeping Miriel next to him. His heart soared upon seeing her, and he smiled-- it was truly over. He was safe.

Ha'zi was still tangled up with Miriel's soft, warm body and his hands were a bit stuck at the moment around her back and waist, so he didn't bother to try and get the hair away from his mouth without disturbing her. He glanced longingly at her sleeping form in front of him. What they had done... was exhilarating. Ha'zi felt such pleasure and warmth from it. The way her body felt, their kisses, it was all so tantalizing.

His sleazy uncle would be proud, Ha'zi thought, smirking. Although, the man probably would have been disgusted he did it with a Gondorian- he had a real hatred for their kind after his aunt was killed in an accident by one of their visiting soldiers. It drove the man to the brothel-addicted person he was today.

The Haradrim boy gazed at the girl's face, cute while sleeping. Ha'zi probably would feel worse if he ever lost her. For a second, he said a silent prayer under his breath, "Dear Eru.. I know I haven't prayed to you much, or really at all. But, please, if you can hear me... protect her for me. I.. i couldn't bear to lose her." Once his prayer was finished, Ha'zi leaned his head forward to kiss her sleeping forehead before laying his head down inches away, trying to get back into blissful sleep next to the girl he loved...   [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/Captain_Aasim/74.png" name="Captain_Aasim"]12253360[/user]
 
Dimitri clenched his fists in anger and felt the blood-rage boil inside him, but then remembered the Mantras: one should be slow to anger, but also slow to forgive. With an annoyed smile, Dimitri said, "You are correct, dear friend. But mind your words when speaking to those devoted to Tulkas, accusations might not go unnoticed. Now, allow me to ask you a question. Tell me about that Elf captain, Zaro, was it? He seems awfully inquisitive."
 
Iver and Daugo passed one another on their search for the elven tents. They both saw Zaro dragging a dead boar into his tent for....something.

"That one just had a difficult life," Elrohir explained to Dimitri as Zaro passed by the campfire carrying the carcass of the pig on his back.

"Parents disowned him, likes to think of himself as an emotionless edgy warrior."

Dimitri noticed Iver pouring some wine on his cheek, which was bloated and bloodied. Slowly the cheek started to heal, but the bruise remained for half an hour. Iver managed to walk into the Noldorin detachment of the great camp and saw that most of the Elves were sleeping except for a couple. One of said couple was holding a violin and playing it slowly and methodically.

Meanwhile, Daugo stumbled upon the elven tents. He ended up wandering into Celeborn's, who merely looked up from a book he was occupied in, frowned at the hobbit and guided him out. Daugo couldn't find the female elf's tent but he saw Turmir sitting down at one of the elven campfires, drinking a bottle of brandy.

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Ha'zi found himself unable to sleep. Perhaps it was the dream or perhaps it was the blood pumping into his loins. One couldn't be sure which was responsible for his insomnia. He could still here the music outside but most of the chat, laughter and clinging of drinks had died down. Miriel mumbled something in her sleep and pressed tighter to him. The woman, for all her charms, and her striking confidence was quite small but not tiny in his arms. Ha'zi could navigate his way out of her grasp or remain there and leave himself to his own thoughts. One occurred to him. What would happen when they both woke up? Was this also a dream? Was this too good to be true? The doubt  flooded in.

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”Not particularly. I’ll be heading off to plant some seeds of doubt in the minds of our enemies, Pyrus. I would recommend you change the landscape to our favor. For my pupils to fully utilize it, we’ll need clear fields, however, some cover such as a few hills or mountains would be appreciated near the basing area. Try to remove the destroyed ruins of the old Mordor and create new landforms with the help of other Maia, specifically Aule and Yavanna’s.” Mairon said, tipped his metaphorical fedora and disappeared.

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Ha'zi sighed at his difficulty sleeping, then had a tired smile as Miriel moved closer to the boy unconsciously. He would like to get up, talk to the others or maybe greet those two men Miriel told him about earlier, but he was comfortable there with her, and didn't have any eager ideas about leaving anytime soon. Besides, he remembered from this morning that she had a rather bad sleep, so Ha'zi wanted her to get a good rest.

So, the Haradrim boy stayed awake, his thoughts keeping him up. Had anyone seen them go off or heard what they'd done? Did they also catch the two of them sneaking giddily into the Haradrim boy's tent and the sounds that soon followed? What would they do for the morning if they were discovered to be in the same tent? Would they be separated and forced to sleep in their own tents? Was this a one time thing? Or did Miriel want to do this more with Ha'zi?

Then Ha'zi shifted to a more important thought: was this going too fast? Were they being too reckless? He wanted it to go slow originally, but now, he didn't really care. Ha'zi believed he would do anything with her, no matter how unfamiliar it was.

He grimaced as he remembered the events that had happened in the Trickster's theater. How close the Umbarim slavers had come to... Ha'zi pushed that thought away. But after what almost happened there, he thought he would have been more scared of sex. He guessed it must have been that they were going so fast, that he only saw her and nothing else... or maybe it was that wine from earlier. He didn't know.

Ha'zi decided to stay up a while, listening to the sounds around him, of the music and peacefulness of nature, and the warmth from Miriel comforting him. [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/Captain_Aasim/74.png" name="Captain_Aasim"]12253360[/user]
 
Dimitri nodded and excused himself, grabbing some food and taking his stuff back to his tent. Though if, on the way, he came across singing, he'd join in with them.
 
Slowly Ha’zi’s eyes shut again and he fell into the cold, warm grasp of the void.

”Hello there.” Ha’zi’s eyes opened again but he was no longer in the tent. Instead he was back in that damned place. In that hallway. In the Trickster’s Mansion. It was just like last time: the animal heads, the tapestries, the ornaments across the walls and the red carpet spread through the floor. Five feet ahead of him was the Trickster, staring at one of the paintings, his usual attire on. He seemed to be admiring it, his hand placed on the art.

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———

Most of the singers had left and Dimitri saw a few Gondorians looking at him.

“Hey,” one of them said. He was a green boy. Couldn’t have been older than twenty. The lad was handsome as well, maybe a punch or two would do his face some good.

“Are you one of those Giants?”

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————-

Miriel was having a dream of her own. A nightmare. She was back there. Five thousand years ago.

She was nearing fifteen around this time. Master Sauron had been testing her and Tytus behind the Thangorodrim. Tytus’ as per usual had the upper hand. She had only won by a thin margin thanks to her being given the distinct advantage with her Giant. It was swift and agile like an arrow and she had been able to successfully maneuver past any of his sound waves. He was slow and couldn’t target her when she used her true ability. It made it wild and uncontrollable but that was exactly what she needed to best him. Tytus was smart, cunning, but merciful. He wasn’t like the others. Unlike them, he cherished his ability, used it to establish his dominance and had become a natural leader amidst their ranks, though, Sauron detested his ego, Miriel looked up to him as an older brother. Unfortunately, that day she was forced to defeat him lest Sauron would become angry. She had fought with so many of them. Equas, Kirin, Béarn and Béor, Carastor, Evenis, even little Midori.

“You did great,” she remembered Tytus’ telling her. He had lost his arms in the fight but they’d grow back and he didn’t mind. They were friends, no, they were family. And family always stuck together. No matter what...

That’s what she had believed before returning to their dungeons. The torch lights guided her and the Balrog, Lungorthin was his name, she believed, had opened her cell door. Miriel had expected to see her sisters, Aranel and Laurelos, there to greet her, ask her about her day, tell stories and play. She had expected it to be like any other normal day, where Laurelos lifted rocks with her power and built a little miniature house like their previous home with little rocky versions of themselves; where Aranel brooded, joked, laughed and continued to whine about being deceived, you see Aranel never had a power, or so they believed at first, she had been so jealous of Miriel being favored by Sauron and being allowed to partake in training with the others, but mostly of Laurelos who was able to move things by thinking it, yet Aranel loved her sisters and they loved her even more; where they could discuss their escape plans and how they would return to the world once they could break out of the Iron Fortress; even talking about seeing the grass, playing in the poppies and hearing the breeze, just hoping one day to be free and journey the world together as a trio of innocent, ignorant girls. How naive she had been.

Lungorthin opened the door and she stepped in. The first thing to catch her off was the smell. It was rancid. The air filled with the stench of metal. She had turned her head to look at the corner where their beds had been. She saw Laurelos’ body laying in the corner of the room...the little girl, red hair coated with an even darker crimson.

“Laurel?” She remembered saying, the name falling out of her mouth.

“I-I-I-I’mm-m ssa-saw-ry...” Aranel’s voice, soft and whimpering said. The woman was in nearly seventeen and was hunched up, a ball of rags, torn clothin, red hairy and tears in the opposite corner of the body, “I-I-I di-did-n-n’t me-mean t-to...”

Miriel had been too shocked to even glance away from the body. Laurelos’ body was facedown, the crack in her skull bloody red and mushy, and nearby was a rock, one of those that she had used to build their fictional home with, it was coated with black dried blood.

“Explain yourself, dirt!” Lungorthin had shouted at Aranel. The woman was too frightened to even respond and he beat her with his fiery whip, scarring her back with burn marks.

After two more whips, her sister collapsed. Miriel had been too focused, too concerned with Laurelos. She broke her trance and blocked the Balrog’s next hit, standing before Aranel’s crumpled body.
“Touch her again and I will kill you.” She has growled at the Balrog, her fear for the creature being replaced by her love for her sister. Even in a moment like this, even when she knew what had happened, even when Aranel was a killer, she defended her sister, as Aranel had stood by her in their youth, she would.

But she was unable to even touch her sister, Laurelos. She had only been thirteen. She didn’t want it to be true. Miriel stood, frozen, afraid to touch the body. Perhaps she was alive, she had lied to herself. Maybe Master Sauron can fix it.

”I’m sorry, Miriel. Laurelos is gone forever. I cannot heal her like I healed you and your peers. A wound like that...the body cannot sustain it. The head is a weakpoint. I don’t know why Aranel would do that. To think such a loving girl could. Especially to Laurelos, her own sister. I truly am sorry. I shall deal with Aranel and find out why she would betray her own blood.” Sauron had said to her afterward. She had just stood there and listened while Lungorthin dragged her sister’s corpse out. That was the last time she had seen Laurelos. No goodbyes. No hugs. Nothing. Just blood and pain.
 
"Huh? Miriel?" Ha'zi looked around urgently as he noticed he was no longer his tent, no longer in Ithilien. He was still confused until he noticed the man next to the art. Him.

He thought he was dead, but, of course, he already thought that before. Ha'zi remembered ravaging the corpse of the egotistical man after the last time he was in this prison.

Ha'zi muttered angrily, "Can i please just get some sleep tonight?" before shouting at the Trickster, his anger slowly reigniting, "Send me back to Miriel, asshole, and stay dead!" [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/Captain_Aasim/74.png" name="Captain_Aasim"]12253360[/user]
 
”Even, son of Evanor,” The handsome lad said, “I never seen a Giant before. Can you show me and my friend?” He asked, his hand indicating another Gondorian youth behind him who seemed to have scarring on his face, not so much a green boy after all.

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”Ouch,” The Trickster said, not even glancing at Ha’zi.
”You know,” He trailed off, ”I am sorry about the little thing with those Umbarim. I merely created the illusions, they themselves acted out of their own nature. I never expected them to attempt to,” he paused, turning away from the picture and looking at the boy, ”Anyway, I am sorry. I even asked Iver to tell you. But, I assume by your anger, that he failed to pass on the message.”

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Ha'zi still stayed cold and distant, not trusting or caring for the man's words. "Fine, I guess. What do you want me here for? And what's with the sudden change in attitude?" [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/Captain_Aasim/74.png" name="Captain_Aasim"]12253360[/user]
 
"So transformed into a death machine in front of hundreds of green as grass boys that'd shit themselves? No offense, but thats a bad idea lad. Besides, it'd be a waste."
 
The Trickster blinked, ”Since you’d rather skip the tea, I suppose I could tell you. My attitude hasn’t changed. I’ve just,” he paused, looked around and raised his hands to emphasize, ”Had a revelation. We both have a common interest in mind. Although, I doubt you’ll listen to me, let alone trust me after our previous fiascos. So, I want to prove to you that I can and want to help you. I shall give you one request. One single request. Ask for whatever you may wish and I shall, if in my power or if possible, bestow it upon you. Do you want a cake? Some ale? Perhaps a certain specific gemstone for a certain specific ring for a certain specific person? Some pipe-weed? An edition of The Daily Beard before it was discontinued, though you’ll have to be detailed on which exact version you want? Or perhaps something of knowledge that’s on your mind?”

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——

”Can you at least tell us what you do or who you are, Mister Dimitri?” Even’s scarred friend asked.

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Ha'zi shook his head. "I don't want anything you could offer, and I doubt you'd be able to do the only thing I would actually want. So, tell me, what's your plan now? Trap me in my dreams or something so I can't cause any harm to anyone else?" He asked, still angered.  [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/Captain_Aasim/74.png" name="Captain_Aasim"]12253360[/user]
 
"I'm Dimitri of the Hectori, trained in the use of the warhammer and a variety of other weapons. I have killed, cooked, brawled, built for money and food and currently kill so that your family and friends aren't gutted by orcs or enslaved forever. Evarr, have you ever killed a man?"
 
”My plan...heh,” He smiled as he glanced towards the picture next to Ha’zi.
”My plan revolves around helping you and your sorry-ass friends, kid.”

”I don’t want to hurt you and I won’t. I’m just here to help you. I’m not going to trap you in your dreams or summon any more illusions.” He pulled out a wooden knife, raised it in his hand and offered it to Ha’zi.

”This is my true body. If you want to kill me and guarantee that you, your friends, your family, your lover and everyone in Arda is doomed to fall before the Darkness, then go ahead. Stab me in my heart.” The Trickster offered him the knife, spread open his hands and exposed his chest to Ha’zi, his smile replaced by what could only be grief, his eyes shut.

”I have nothing to live for anyway.”

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Even took a moment to respond, “No. Not a man.”

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Ha'zi grabbed the knife, and gazed at it, dark inner thoughts whispering gleefully to him. He could do it now. Get rid of this thorn in his party's side. He would never have to worry about this Trickster again.

Ha'zi was tempted. They almost got to him completely, and he saw it in his head, plunging the dagger into the man, ending their problems. But he resisted. Ha'zi wanted no more death.

He glanced up at the Trickster, then tossed the blade behind his back without a thought, clattering on the floor. "So, what is it you wanted to do with me besides giving me the opportunity to kill you?" Ha'zi asked, rather interested as to where this was going. [user avatar="https://cravatar.eu/helmavatar/Captain_Aasim/74.png" name="Captain_Aasim"]12253360[/user]
 
The Trickster opened one hazel eye, then another. Looking at Ha’zi’s hands for the wooden dagger. His hands fell to his sides.

”I honestly thought you’d do it. I am surprised. I want you to know the truth. The truth about this world, this cruel dark world. The truth about your enemy. The truth about my-“ he abruptly stopped, The truth about Melkor and Manwe. About the Valar. About Eru, the creator. And of course, the truth about me. It is right in front of you. It is in your grasp. All you have to do is sieze it, Ha’zi.”

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Even and his friend exchanged brief glances before the scarred boy answered, “It was a burn mark I got handling oil in the kitchen. I used to be a cook before I was conscripted.”

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