Plant life was almost absent on the slave road. Beowdil was wary. For days now they trekked along the dirt road. His rest was uneasy, and he was constantly on edge. In just the few short days they had been on the road, he and
Radagast had already been attacked by thieves on three separate occasions. Beowdil did his best to keep a watchful eye to his right and left, nevertheless, regardless of his vigilance, the brigands who haunted these roads always seemed to slip passed his watchful eyes.
The increasing heat did not help him either. More than once he had to wipe sweat from his eyes, and more than once the dancing heat waves played with his vision causing him to see mirages.
Radagast however, did not seem affected by the ever increasing harsh environment. Ever since their small company entered the main road,
Radagast had kept to himself. Beowdil wasn't sure, but he hoped, the wizard was hard at work silently casting spells which would protect them from the eyes of bandits.
After what seemed like weeks, Beowdil wasn't certain. After the third bandit attack he stopped counting the days they spent on the Slave Road. Nevertheless, a day after the third attack
Radagast finally spoke, "Someone is approaching.
Get off the road."
Beowdil cast a glance to the west. A few crags were jutting upward from the barren landscape. They were no more than twenty feet from the road. He nudged the wizard with his elbow and hustled to the spire shaped boulder. Crouching silently behind his cover, Beowdil waited quietly.
Radagast must have used some sort of spell to detect the approaching party because nearly an hour passed before Beowdil even heard the sound of their approaching wagon. Silently the fighting man waited. From around the crag Beowdil spied a horse drawn carriage pass by. Four Southrons marched by. They each bore a polearm with a scimitar dangling from their belts. Each one had their face veiled. Beowdil shifted his focus to the wagon. It was no more a wagon than a cage. The small cage was empty saved for a pile of discarded garments and, to Beowdil's surprise, a dwarf!
"There he is," muttered
Radagast. The wizard was crouched behind the second crag. He was leaning heavily on his staff.
"Do you know him?" Beowdil whispered from his hiding place.
"No," began the wizard, "but he's been waiting for us."
Radagast stepped out from behind his hiding place and with a quick shake of his staff, a thread of magic frightened the horse and caused it to rear. The Southrons quickly turned their attention to their panicked steed trying to calm it. "Now, Beowdil!" yelled the wizard.
With great haste, Beowdil rose from behind his crag. He sprinted towards the nearest Haradrim. In a blur of steel, Beowdil drew his sword and downed the first Haradite.
Three to go, he thought. Almost on cue, Beowdil felt his vision begin to narrow.
One of the Southrons was busy trying to calm their horse. The other two were now moving in on Beowdil. With a quick
parry and a feint, Beowdil avoided the attacks of the two haradrim. The fighting man cast a longing glance to Radagst as if asking for help, and seemingly from nowhere, the wizard was at his side. With practiced finesse and tact,
Radagast the brown fought the Southron using his staff. Beowdil was impressed.
The magically fortified staff blocked and parried incoming attacks just as well, if not better than Beowdil's sword. The two free-men danced with death as the two Haradrim tried to land a death blow. Through a sweat dripped brow, Beowdil noted the third Haradrim had calmed the horse sufficiently to join the fight. Quickly, and only for a moment, Beowdil allowed his fury to take control. His vision narrowed till all he could see was the combatant in front of him. With
ferocity which almost matched a feral
warg, Beowdil struck his foe acoss the chest. The Haradrim fell to the ground dying of a gaping chest wound. He quickly refocused in an attempt to bring the world back into focus. The third haradrim was upon him. With
raw talent and budding skill, Beowdil meet his next opponent.
Radagast clubbed his adversary across the top of his head, causing it to crack like a melon. The wizard glanced at Beowdil who was locked in combat with the last Southron. Had
Radagast not invested a few nights training Beowdil in sword play then the fight would have favored the Haradrim, but the wizard had been honing Beowdil's skills. He was a talented fighter, now
Radagast would change him into a skillful one. The edge clearly belonged to Beowdil.
The wizard moved to the carriage. Immediately, in the dwarven tongue,
Radagast stated, "We're here to help you." He waved his hand over the lock and muttered a few words. The lock fell open.
"You have my thanks," the dwarf stated in the common tongue.
As the stout fellow climbed down from the wagon, Beowdil ended his battle with the Haradrim. A powerful strike removed the Haradrim's fighting arm. He dropped his pole arm and looked up at Beowdil. To the farmer's surprise, there was no fear in the Southron's eyes. The Haradrim said something in a language Beowdil didn't understand. To further his surprise, the Southron spoke calmly.
From behind, the dwarf spoke up, "He says to, 'finish it.'" Both
Radagast looked and Beowdil looked at the dwarf in surprise.
"You speak Haradish?" asked
Radagast.
The dwarf nodded, then turned to Beowdil, "Are you going to honor his wishes? He is useless to his Lord with only one arm. An armless Southron cant fight."
"Who are you, and how do you know what this man wants?" asked Beowdil. He never took his eyes from his opponent, nor did he lower his sword.
"I am Belok, son of Frori the Beardless. I have spent a long time among the Haradrim, as a slave. I've learned a lot about them. The least you can do is grant that Southron an honorable death, one at the hand of his adversary in battle." explained Belok.
Beowdil looked back at the Haradrim. The Southron's eyes revealed a longing to die, Beowdil obliged. With a quick stroke his sword found its mark. He pierced the heart of the Haradrim who died instantly, feeling nothing. Beowdil withdrew his sword and his opponent's body landed on the ground with a thud.
The company salvaged what they could from the Haradrim caravan. They found some water and rations, the dwarf found his axe, and just when they were about to set the horse loose and remove the carriage from the road, Beowdil caught a glint of silver coming from the rags piled in the cage, "Wait a moment," called to
Radagast who had already began pushing the carriage.
The farmer climbed into the cage and reached into the pile of rags. He withdrew a small amulet hanging from a silver chain. In silence his companions watched as Beowdil stared at the amulet slowly spinning in the dry wind.
"What is it?" asked
Radagast.
Beowdil stared at the amulet in disbelief. It was unmistakable, the silver chain, the small metal pendant, and the letter 'A' etched onto the back of it, "It belongs to my wife, Ariel."