[The Barrow-Wight]

* * * * * Rhûn * * * * *

Mislavini sat on his great wooden throne and watched the tark emmisary pass through the tall doorway at the far end of the hall. His golden crown sat crookedly on his brow as he cradled his chin in his hands and pondered the summons from Gondor. Though it had been expected, its friendly tone had not been forseen. Mislavini had been prepared for a humiliating demand for his presense before the new king, but instead he had received what seemed to be a cordial invitation to dignified conversation. Perhaps it was a trick.

Since he was a small boy and his father had been Great Captain, he had heard of the treachery of the tarks and their wicked allies the Elves. His library was full of tales of the many Ozren peoples that had been slain by the enemy to the west, tortured and burned in a manner worse than even the Dark Lord dealt out to his foes. But when he had stood dumbstruck at the Morannon, suddenly bereft of the driving will of the Lord Sauron, he had witnessed mercy instead of malice, wisdom instead of cruelty. It had shocked him, and he had doubted its sincerity immediately, thinking it was but preparation for some later evilness. But the summons had finally come, and it had been a request for peace and friendship instead of a list of demands.

Mislavini stood and beckoned to his steward who stood in the shadows at the side of the hall.

“Kasteni, my friend. It seems we have a choice to make.”

“Indeed we do, my lord.”. The steward stepped into the light. His hair was dark and long like the Great Captain’s, and he shared the same long, hawkish nose and piecing dark eyes. But where Mislavini was massive and muscular, like most of the people of the northern plains, the steward was tall and thin, showing the Carnic* blood that flowed in his veins.

Mislavini stared at his steward, waiting for him to say more, but Kasteni remained silent.

“Well, what do you think?” the Great Captain asked at last. “You heard the message, and it is obvious that we will have to send a representative. With war imminent on our southern borders there is no possibility that I can go, so I must send my best man. But who will accompany you?”

Kasteni smiled and said, “I already have a few people in mind, my Lord.”

He pulled a small sheet of parchment from his pocket and wrote a few quick notes on it.

“Doorward! Come here quickly and then go summon the people on this list!

The chief guard at the door rushed forward, took the note and rushed from the hall.

Kasteni looked to Mislavini. “Let us have a drink while we wait for my companions.”