Read Online The Last Ringbearer by Kirill Yeskov - Free Book Online

company is made up of Easterling mercenaries commanded by Eloar, an Elf; as I understand it, he’s a relative of some Lórien ruler. Number: nine people. Their task is roving patrol of a stretch of desert next to the highway and mop-up of said territory as a counter-insurgency measure. Are you satisfied?”
    Haladdin closed his eyes involuntarily and once again saw a toy bactrian made of woolen threads, trampled into a pool of coagulated blood. So that’s what they call it: ‘mopping up territory.’ Good to know.
    “So how did you end up in the regrettable position in which we found you, Baron?”
    “I’m afraid that it’s such an unlikely story that you will not believe me.”
    “Then I‘ll tell you myself. You had attempted to stop this ‘mop-up’ and wounded one of the mercenaries, perhaps even killed one. Correct?”
    The Gondorian looked at them in obvious consternation. “How the hell do you know that?”
    “That’s not important. Strange behavior for a lieutenant of Gondor, though.”
    “It’s proper behavior for a soldier and a gentleman,” the prisoner replied drily. “I hope that you will not view my accidental admission as an attempt to plead for my life.”
    “Oh, don’t worry, Baron. I believe that the sergeant and I owe you at least a partial payment on this debt; looks like it’s our turn to behave foolishly …” He looked back at the Orocuen; the latter hesitated, but then gestured acceptance: do as you think best.
    “Forgive my not-so-idle curiosity: what will you do if we set you free?”
    “Honestly, I’m not sure. Here in Mordor, if the Elves capture me they will finish what Eloar’s men started, even if not in such an exotic manner. There’s nothing to come back to in Gondor: my King is dead, and I do not intend to serve his murderer and usurper …”
    “What do you mean, Baron? We’ve heard no news since Pelennor.”
    “Denethor died a horrible death; supposedly he immolated himself on a funeral pyre. The very next day there was a ready claimant to the throne. You see, there’s an old legend, which no one had taken seriously before, that the ruling House of Húrin is only taking care of the throne for the descendants of the mythical Isildur. Such a descendant has shown up – one Aragorn, of the northern rangers. To prove his dynastic rights he produced a sword, supposedly the legendary Andúril , although who had ever seen this Andúril ? He also performed several healings by laying of hands, although all those healed were from among his northern followers … Prince Faramir, the heir apparent, retired to Ithilien and is supposedly a prince there under the eye of Captain Beregond – the same one who testified to Denethor’s ‘self-immolation.’”
    “And no one in the West objected to all this?”
    “Aragorn’s Secret Guard – rumor has it that they’re all living dead, animated by Elvish magic – had quickly taught Gondorians not to ask such questions. As for Éomer, they get whatever they want from him, which is not surprising, since his sister is under guard with Faramir in Ithilien. Actually, it appears that Aragorn himself is an Elvish puppet, and the real ruler of Gondor is Arwen, his wife from Lórien.”
    “What about our home, Mordor?”
    “Barad-dúr has been razed to the ground. The Elves are now forming a kind of a local administration from all sorts of trash. It seems to me that they are destroying all remnants of civilization and are systematically hunting down everyone with an education. I think they seriously intend to push your people back into the Stone Age.”
    “What about your people?”
    “I think that our turn will come, but for now they need us.”
    Tzerlag broke the ensuing silence. “All right. First we need to finish burying the people of this camp. After that you can do whatever, but I intend to collect a debt from that – what’s his name? – Eloar. The owner of the blue yurt was my aunt twice-removed, so it’s a bloodfeud