Well, this is my first Lord of the Rings fanfiction. It isn't much, to quote Eowen, but it's hot. Just kidding. Anyways, if any of you kind people end up asking yourselves "Who the heck is Amir?", "What's up with all the embroidery comments?" or anything else related to Amir, I greatly urge you to check out the graphic novel "Bride Stories" also known as "Otoyomegatari", by Kaoru Mori. It is a truly amazing work of art. I mean, the author only publishes one novel per year, and it shows why: the details she puts in there...Oh my. Just...just...just beautiful. It is a historical manga that takes place in the 19th century, south-east of the Caspian sea, close to the Aral sea.
Pairing has yet to be decided ^.^
Anyhoot, without further ado,
More than anything, I want to save him. As Amir Hargal sat helpless by little Karluk who had been bedridden for a week now, this is what she tormented herself with.
"I am so sorry Karluk. I felt it in my heart that we ought not to have gone so far on our ride. If only we'd returned sooner, I'm sure you would not have gotten ill," she said to his sleeping form, only just visible in the dim light of the single candle.
Karluk, to whom she had been married not two moons back by her father, had gotten a terrible cold and the fever was relentless. Both Mr. Smith and the village doctor had visited him, finally offering her medicine to be boiled then drunk by the patient but Karluk could barely withstand three swallows before being victim of another round of horrible wet coughs. The family still had hope that he would recover and had come for prayers and gone. Only Amir stayed by him night and day, crying as she cared for him.
"Please do not die. Please don't leave me alone."
Her eyes watered and she wrapped her arms around her knees, hiding her face in her embroidered skirt. In her fatigue, for she had not slept more than a few hours throughout the past seven days, she dozed off in her tears.
There was smoke. Not that of a fire or flame, but of incense. Its smell tickled the nose and soothed the mind with grey spirals of juniper and clove. Amir could see grassy greens slopes and hills for miles ahead. Small stone stumps speckled the earth, exhaling little smoke. A falcon flew by her and she spun around to follow its flight. Before her stood beautifully carved arches of wood and a roaring flowing river. As she looked into the water, she saw vast forests greener than emeralds. Among the trees, a pale one seemed more remarkable, for it was blooming. Just when she felt at ease within herself, a cold gust of wind came from the east and flames engulfed the lands as the skies grew black with ash and smoke.
Amir woke with a start, as if she had been falling in her dreams. Flexing her hand, she felt the rough Persian rug beneath her and realised she was lying on her side. The candle wick had drowned in its own wax. Knowing she had dreamed, she could not recall what she had seen, though tall leafy trees and gentle winds filled her eyes in the darkness of the room.
A blue glow came from the window, announcing the dawn before the rooster could. As she slowed her breathing she listened for the nightingales and larks to exchange songs. Their calls and cries were muffled by the carpet covered walls but she heard them just fine. She stopped breathing to hear them the better, eager for their comfort. She looked over to Karluk's face and was pleased when it finally looked at peace. The fever must've broken in the night, she thought as she reached to touch his forehead.
She could not hear the birds. She could not here the rooster. She could not hear the dogs bark. She could not hear her own breaths just as she could not hear his. She could only hear the drum of her heartbeat while she found his missing. His hands were cold and her heart colder still. She called his name. She shook him and slapped him. But he did no awaken.
"Mother! Mother!" she cried and she stumbled out of the room, still in her under dress.
Sanira, Karluk's mother, slid a hand by the drape that served as a door to her and her husband's room and raised it. She gasped upon seeing her daughter in law, out in the hall wearing naught but her night clothes, hair uncovered and wild around her.
"Amir, you're clothes-"
"He isn't breathing, mother! He isn't breathing!" was all Amir could manage through small gasps and sobs.
The burial of her husband was held soon after. The skies were dark with clouds and the wind was cruel. They had to pour hot water on the earth to loosen the soil enough to dig. The days here were hot but the nights bitterly cold. One of the reasons why Karluk might have fallen ill.
Amir was stoic throughout the entire ceremony, among the moans and tears, her entire self devoid of emotion.
In the days that followed, she spent her time in the baking rooms, embroidering in silence and helping in the preparation of meals. Life, it seemed, had left him behind.
Half a year passed, and soon she received her twenty-first birthday. There was a small feast, for any event, small or big, was welcomed with a feast, filled with talk and song. She found herself smiling a little, and even conversing with the other women. But soon the evening was nearing the close and as the mirth died down, so did her good spirits. People helped clean up and then retired to their chambers for the night.
As Amir was falling asleep she turned her head to the window, imagining Karluk was watching down from his little star in the sky.
The grassy slopes, the weaving arches, the sea of trees, the blooming tree, the flames; they all visited her dreams once more, only this time she saw a strange writing of curves and lines as bright as red flame.
She awoke with a sharp intake of air, too warm under her covers, which she held tightly in her hands. The sun was risen and the day only just begun. She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, the lasts of her dream floating away like fog on a chilly morning. But again she could recall glimpses of a beautiful landfull of grass, forests, and fire, along with a strange feeling of familiarity. Perhaps, this dream, she'd had it before.
"Hello, my pretty boy." she cooed to Sulkik as she stroked his neck. Yusuf was kind enough to care for her horse from time to time.
The horse moved forward to nudge her shoulder and she laughed, kissing his soft nose.
"Forgive me, Sulkik. I know I have not been good to you as of late. But worry not! Today I feel the courage for some hunting," she whispered to him.
She draped the tasselled numnah over his back, followed by a thick pillow and finally placed and tied the wooden saddle over them. A lose tasselled collar hung from his neck. She coaxed the bit of his bridle into his mouth and tightened the ropes of her stirrups. To the back of his saddle, she secured a bundle of woollen blankets along with her bow and flat quiver. Finally, she checked his hooves for stones before mounting, with the grace her life of riding had given her. As she was leaving the stables, she caught a glimpse of Arakla, Karluk's steed, and a tightness took hold of her heart and she spurred Sulkik into a gallop. She would hunt by the Soma lake.
The fields and sheep herds flew by as she and Sulkik lengthened the distance between themselves and the village. As the sun reached its zenith, the wild earth not yet trampled by cattle stretched out before them. Amir remembered a stream a little while ahead, remembering the times Karluk and she had had need of it in the heat of the summer. She let Sulkik drink to his heart's content while she surveyed the area. A small field mouse peeked out of its hole by Sulkik's hoof and scurried back inside when confronted with the giant being.
They roamed the land for a time, tracking for signs of hares. When the light from the sun began to turn golden with its descent from the sky, she spotted a small group of hares upwind of her. They were grazing calmly in a clearing on lower ground then where Amir and Sulkik stood, hidden by pomegranate trees. She smiled at the glorious trees, promising herself to gather as many fruits as she could from their branches, as she had quite a fondness for them, as did the children of Yusuf, Karluk's older brother.
The hares had not sensed them yet, even as she set her bow and pulled back an arrow, holding two more in the same hand in preparation for the next shot. She aimed, exhaled and let her arrow fly. It hit the largest of the hares a little under the shoulder, killing it swiftly. Amir fired her next arrow in one fluid moment and it found its target. The others were bounding across the grass in every direction. Most had found their way back to the safety of their burrows, but one had strayed too far and now ran desperately away from her. With a firm kick of her heel in Sulkik's side, she began the chase, bow in hand. When the hare was just a few paces in front of her she let go of the reins and positioned an arrow.
A moment to aim and the deed was done. She gathered the hares by their hind legs and retrieved her arrows. One had splintered and therefore could not be salvaged. The other two would go back into her quiver after she had cleaned them. She bound the hares to her saddle by their legs and let Sulkik find his own pace as they journeyed to the lake in order to clean them.
It was not far, and soon they came upon it. With sure and swift strokes of her knife, she skinned the hares and gutted them. She rinsed them of blood and swaddle them in a thin cloth from behind her saddle and secured the bundle there. She scraped the insides of the furs, removing most of the thin meat that clung to it, and packed those as well.
The light was sinking to her left, setting the sky ablaze and reflecting magnificently onto the lake's calm waters. The sun glowed orange and then colored the sky in shades of purple and red. Like blood. Like pomegranates! She turned Sulkik around sharply, cursing under her breath for forgetting the precious fruits.
With her bone hilted knife she cut the stems of as many pomegranates as she trusted Sulkik could carry, gradually filling the woollen blankets that she bound with care, so as to not lose one fruit along the way home, behind her saddle.
As she finished securing the ties that held fast her now quite full satchel, a loud shriek filled her ears and a blur of blue and black feathers grazed her right cheek and as she flinched to her right, the last rays of sunlight glared in her eyes, causing her raise her arms. Just then, amidst the blinding light, she felt the ground below her horse's hooves caved in. Sulkik bucked and she swept past his head, thankful that she still held the embroidered reins. The light vanished and for a while they seemed to be floating in a mist of shadows.
Feeling her companion's alarm, she pulled herself closer to him and whispered softly in his ear, stroking his smooth neck all the while. It seemed to help very little and even she must have been radiating the same emotion. Then, very slowly, like a drop of dew forms on a blade of grass, little lights appeared.
Amir's eyes widened at the stars that seemed to surround her from above and below, at the far away moons and suns, at the spiraling scatters of twinkling light. She felt a peace like none other fill her heart, like cold hands in warm water.
She felt a heavy tiredness fall over her soul and struggled to keep her eyes open.
Just as the lights had appeared, they left, leaving them in darkness. She felt herself be lain on a mossy bed, under trees, for the wind she heard she seldom felt. And there under the stars and the moon and the leaves of the trees, she fell into a dreamless sleep.
A bird call woke her, along with fat lips nibbling at her nose. She opened her eyes to a blue sky through leafy branches. Sulkik was snorting softly by her face as he nudged it with his muzzle.
The morning was young she noticed as she rose and stretched. She stifled a yawn that caught in her throat when she gathered her surroundings. Distant mountains tipped in white, trees she could hardly encircle with her arms and plains of grass greener than emeralds.
She pivoted, glancing desperately around her in the hopes of finding some familiar totem. Her head hung in despair, only to rise when Sulkik shoved her forward. She spun around and embraced his neck, crying into his mane, hysterical.
Most of that morning was spent prostrate by the tree, gazing into nothing, while her mind tried to find sense in the current events. She knew of no place that resembled this one ever existing, at least not near her village. In her mind, glimpses of the dreams she'd had appeared. The dreams, the darkness and the stars; she wondered if it had truly happened.
This is… unnatural, to say the least.
Her hand grazed the knife that lay beside her, its polished bone hilt reflecting the sunlight. She held it so as to see herself in its blade. She was a Hargal; tougher than tree roots and twice as strong.
She sighed and got to her feet, sheathing the blade at her waist. As she did, the coins and beads at her necklaces and earrings chimed, along with the ones that hung from her headdress, a flat rimless hat with a pale cotton scarf to hide most of her hair. This hair was black as ink and long, so she kept it braided simply behind her back, held fast at the ends with golden string and more coins.
In the package of pomegranates, she thrust a hand inside and came out with a plump fruit that she split in two and ate. Sulkik was eating the grass heartily; it was not thin like the kind near the village, which was coarse, but tender and sweet with rain.
As she chewed the seeds, she studied this. If the plants grew thick and tall here, it must rain often. But she had not brought a water-skin and this worried her. She unwrapped the hares to inspect them, finding no signs of rot. They would have to be cooked or salted soon, lest they become inedible. Unfortunately, she did not carry flint and stone wherever she went, so a fire was out of the question.
I could rub a stick on some wood but the air smells of old rain. It won't be dry enough.
Finally, she concluded: she would have to find a village.
With a clucked of the tongue, she called Sulkik over and mounted nimbly. The sun was rising to her left, in the east.
"Well, Sulkik, where do you think we ought to go?"
The horse, raised his head and smelled the air nonchalantly. Amir leaned forward to pat his neck, a smile on her lips.
"I guess we'll keep the sun at our back in that case."
Just as she steered him in this direction, he pulled on his reins, turned and marched in the opposite direction, the sun in their faces. It was an unpleasant way to ride but Amir felt Sulkik might know best. Who knows what he could tell from the smell of the wind.
They rode for little more than half a day before finding a small pool of water. It did not smell foul as marshes do, and seemed to have a steady flow. Sulkik was drinking happily, for the day was growing warmer and warmer. Soon Amir might have to remove her arms and torso from her over dress, letting the fabric hang over the cloth belt wrapped around her waist. It would be very indecent should a man spy her, but there seemed to be no travellers in this area.
After a short rest and meal of pomegranates for Amir and grass for Sulkik, they set off again. The trees were large but sparse, the ground mostly covered by ferns and long grass. Soon, they came upon oven fields, descending towards a far off village, leaving the mountains behind them.
She found a road finally, slightly dug into the earth, with walls of piled stones on both sides. She couldn't remember roads being built in this fashion before. As she neared the settlement, it became very clear to Amir that something was not right. The houses were not like those of her village or any other she'd ever seen. She had been comforted when she'd seen a small herd of sheep but startled upon spotting the shepherd. His skin was pale and his eyes light, much like Mr. Smith, and his clothes odd. In fact, they all looked like him, she realised as she crossed more and more of them on her path.
They all stared at her with wide eyes, at her clothes, at her hair, at her horse and at her boots. A man who was carrying a hunting bow and a quiver stopped and leaned back against the road's wall as observed her own as she passed. They do not fletch their arrows like I do, here. They must not be used to the likes of mine. They don't embroider their quivers either…nor their clothes.
She heard small excerpts of conversations, calls from one to another and as she entered the village, whispers swirling around her like fumes. To ease the passing in the town, she dismounted, pulling Sulkik along by the bridle.
She kept an eye open for a stall that might sell water-skins and another for salt. There was her concern over money. I suppose I'll trade one or two of my prizes.
She came across a little vendor's stall, oddly out of sight in the bustling market. Peering in, she could see a few of what looked like water-skins hanging from the wall. She called uncertainly and a frail old man with brows like splayed bird wings appeared. By his smooth greeting she knew any form of communication by speech alone would not aid her. Instead she smiled and pointed to the water-skins, and showed one finger. The man squinted at her and following her arm and finally the direction she pointed at before hobbling over to it.
He came back with a doe skin that was laying on the table beneath the water-skins. Amir shook her head and shaped a water-skin in the air with her hands, miming drinking, and pointed again at the water-skins, her hand slightly higher this time.
The old man scrunched his face in thought before his eyes lightened and smiled as he turned away, back to the water-skins, unhooking one from the wall. Amir nodded fervently and smiled wide. After confirming that this really was a water-skin, she motioned for him to wait a moment.
Sulkik was right by her and she untied the bundle of hares and of furs. She presented them to the shop keeper, pointing at her meat and furs and then at the water-skin. The man ran a finger over his lips, pensive, before feeling the furs and prodding the meat. He held up a hare and one fur in one hand while pushing the water-skin towards her and Amir conceded immediately. She could hunt for more later. Besides, she did not need so much meat at once.
She went back to her pack and took out a pomegranate. The old man had been kind to her and at least he did not stare at her with wide eyes. Perhaps he is simply poor in sight due to his age. None the less, he had shown kindness and deserved a gift.
He stared at the fruit in his hand, looking rather confused.
Does…does he not know what it is?
This thought was then followed by the horrifying idea that there might not exist pomegranates here.
"You eat it," Amir said, pretending to take a bite.
The man raised a brow at her speech but looked back at the fruit and shrugged before biting into it like an apple, to which Amir's reaction was crying out and laying a hand on his arm. She motioned to have the fruit back while taking out her knife. As she made a small cut at the top, the old man watched with curiosity while she split the precious fruit in half, revealing the ruby pearls within. She gave one half to the man and showed him how to eat it with the other.
Amir chuckled when he discovered the taste and more importantly the seeds. He chose to spit them out, though it did not offend Amir; some people didn't like them, even though the proper way is to eat them.
She handed him the other half and waved goodbye while she pulled Sulkik away and further down the market road.
I hope he enjoyed it.