2.Quatre's last call to the comrades:
Quatre's POV:
"Master Quatre!" exclaimed Rashid in surprise as I stood at the door of their fort. I was back at the Maganac's base in the desert. A place I knew I loved, as I enjoyed of the waves of genuine happiness that radiated from my friends. There wasn't a single negative emotion; I was happy that I came back.
"You look tired, my friend," whispered Rashid into my ear as he embraced me, for once dropping the 'master'.
"Yes, Rashid. I'm glad I came back."
It was here where I could search for a way to heal my broken heart. Sometimes, the scorching sands of the desert can be gentler than the cold heart of a friend...
Standing out in the mild night air of the desert, I let the violin say what I could not. As I was absorbed in the music, I suddenly felt a new presence around me. It was not the feelings of my friends. No, I had set up barriers between them and me after I felt their relief when I stopped sending messages. I had had enough; I couldn't take the pain anymore.
Anyway, my heart lightened as I recognized it.
"Ishtaqtu ilaik ya akhi (I missed you, brother)," a soothing voice said by my side. I let out a content sigh. At least Samra was here. She would understand and perhaps make me feel better.
"Mata wasalti (when did you arrive)?" I asked her, liking the sound of my native language on my tongue.
"Munzu kalil (a little while ago). Why are you so sad, Little One?"
"I now know how Dorothy felt before she left the Land of Oz," I said bitterly. Samra waited for me to go on.
"When I first read the story of the Wizard of Oz, I always used to wonder how Dorothy felt when she left the yellow brick road. When she first came to the Land of Oz, she was scared and wanted to go back home more than anything else. She didn't care about what happened to the strangers around her. But after all those hardships she went through with her new friends, the bond grew deeper than could be imagined. I guess wars bring a lot of pain and misery, but on the other hand, they teach men to stick together, forming a bond stronger than that of blood.
I journeyed on the yellow brick road too. It was a long journey with the rest of the team. Sometimes we laughed, other times we screamed. We passed through happy times and sad ones, but we stayed firm all the way, because we were there for each other. And now, after we have said goodbye to the yellow brick road, I find myself alone, without those who lived the journey with me. I feel like an empty shell; I wish they were back but I don't want to be a burden. They're too far now; it'll never be like the old days."
Samra held my shoulders for a while before she spoke.
"Quatre," she said softly. "Do you remember the song Iria taught you long ago on that stormy night when you wanted Father to come back home?"
"The one about the call?" I asked.
"Yes, that one. Do you remember the tune?" she suddenly seemed so eager.
"Yes, I do."
"Play it now," she ordered.
"What for?" I asked as I placed the violin on my shoulder.
"I'll sing it as you play. Your friends may hear the call if you really play it from your heart."
"Okay," I smiled back at her and closed my eyes, getting ready to begin.
(Note: the song is written below is said in Arabic so I'm writing it in both languages. Each verse is repeated twice, once in Arabic then in English.)
'Nonadi fahal yosa'mon nida?
(We call but is the call ever heard?)
Litarikil khairi wal bina'
(To the way of good and building back)
Wa watanuna ardul 'ata
(And our home is the land of blessings)
Birohi nafdihi min ayi itida'
(With our souls, we protect it from any danger)
Ya ayuha ta'iru kawimi riyah
(O bird, fight against the high winds)
Wa asmi'him zalika nida'
(And let them hear my last call)
Fakalbi yantazuri ijabata nida'
(For my heart yearns for the answer of the call)'
We stood quietly for few minutes, catching back our breaths. I hadn't heard Samra sing for along time. It was nice to hear her strong yet gentle voice again.
"That was beautiful, Master Quatre," said Rashid from behind us. "It's bound to be heard and answered, I'm sure."
"I hope so, Rashid. I hope so," I whispered as the sun began to rise.
To be continued...
Quatre's POV:
"Master Quatre!" exclaimed Rashid in surprise as I stood at the door of their fort. I was back at the Maganac's base in the desert. A place I knew I loved, as I enjoyed of the waves of genuine happiness that radiated from my friends. There wasn't a single negative emotion; I was happy that I came back.
"You look tired, my friend," whispered Rashid into my ear as he embraced me, for once dropping the 'master'.
"Yes, Rashid. I'm glad I came back."
It was here where I could search for a way to heal my broken heart. Sometimes, the scorching sands of the desert can be gentler than the cold heart of a friend...
Standing out in the mild night air of the desert, I let the violin say what I could not. As I was absorbed in the music, I suddenly felt a new presence around me. It was not the feelings of my friends. No, I had set up barriers between them and me after I felt their relief when I stopped sending messages. I had had enough; I couldn't take the pain anymore.
Anyway, my heart lightened as I recognized it.
"Ishtaqtu ilaik ya akhi (I missed you, brother)," a soothing voice said by my side. I let out a content sigh. At least Samra was here. She would understand and perhaps make me feel better.
"Mata wasalti (when did you arrive)?" I asked her, liking the sound of my native language on my tongue.
"Munzu kalil (a little while ago). Why are you so sad, Little One?"
"I now know how Dorothy felt before she left the Land of Oz," I said bitterly. Samra waited for me to go on.
"When I first read the story of the Wizard of Oz, I always used to wonder how Dorothy felt when she left the yellow brick road. When she first came to the Land of Oz, she was scared and wanted to go back home more than anything else. She didn't care about what happened to the strangers around her. But after all those hardships she went through with her new friends, the bond grew deeper than could be imagined. I guess wars bring a lot of pain and misery, but on the other hand, they teach men to stick together, forming a bond stronger than that of blood.
I journeyed on the yellow brick road too. It was a long journey with the rest of the team. Sometimes we laughed, other times we screamed. We passed through happy times and sad ones, but we stayed firm all the way, because we were there for each other. And now, after we have said goodbye to the yellow brick road, I find myself alone, without those who lived the journey with me. I feel like an empty shell; I wish they were back but I don't want to be a burden. They're too far now; it'll never be like the old days."
Samra held my shoulders for a while before she spoke.
"Quatre," she said softly. "Do you remember the song Iria taught you long ago on that stormy night when you wanted Father to come back home?"
"The one about the call?" I asked.
"Yes, that one. Do you remember the tune?" she suddenly seemed so eager.
"Yes, I do."
"Play it now," she ordered.
"What for?" I asked as I placed the violin on my shoulder.
"I'll sing it as you play. Your friends may hear the call if you really play it from your heart."
"Okay," I smiled back at her and closed my eyes, getting ready to begin.
(Note: the song is written below is said in Arabic so I'm writing it in both languages. Each verse is repeated twice, once in Arabic then in English.)
'Nonadi fahal yosa'mon nida?
(We call but is the call ever heard?)
Litarikil khairi wal bina'
(To the way of good and building back)
Wa watanuna ardul 'ata
(And our home is the land of blessings)
Birohi nafdihi min ayi itida'
(With our souls, we protect it from any danger)
Ya ayuha ta'iru kawimi riyah
(O bird, fight against the high winds)
Wa asmi'him zalika nida'
(And let them hear my last call)
Fakalbi yantazuri ijabata nida'
(For my heart yearns for the answer of the call)'
We stood quietly for few minutes, catching back our breaths. I hadn't heard Samra sing for along time. It was nice to hear her strong yet gentle voice again.
"That was beautiful, Master Quatre," said Rashid from behind us. "It's bound to be heard and answered, I'm sure."
"I hope so, Rashid. I hope so," I whispered as the sun began to rise.
To be continued...