Chapter 14
Return
NOTE: Parenthesis ( ) now denote Westron, since this website is being EVIL and not showing brackets when I upload. CURSE YOOOUUUU!!!!
Khalil turned once again in his saddle to grin at Lasca. She rolled her eyes. He now wore a resplendent suit of Gondorian armor, complete with a tunic embroidered with a symbol they had chosen for the new Harad: a hovering golden hawk. Gandalf had suggested finding a new insignia, and both of them had very enthusiastic. It was Lasca who had come up with the idea of the hawk, remembering them from home. "Are you sure about a hawk? Why not an eagle? They're more majestic," suggested Khalil. Lasca laughed.
"What, do you think Harad is 'majestic' by any definition right now? No, we're more like hawks; small but scrappy."
"You have a point, o mistress of symbolism."
"I know I do. How about piling on more, eh? It could look like it's going upwards, rising—"
"Rising above the shadows cast by the sands of the past, piled against it in a huge dune, eagerly trying to swallow it up—" Khalil orchestrated. Lasca raised an eyebrow.
"Wow, and you call me symbolism-obsessed? Not bad, we could work that into the design…" she hunched over a scrap of parchment with a charcoal stick in her hand.
"Uh, you know I was being sarcastic…"
Both Lasca and Khalil attempted to draw it, but Lasca's was the only one that even remotely resembled a feathered creature. They ended up asking Gandalf for help, and he brought them to the best embroiderer he could find: the Evenstar herself. Both Khalil and Lasca spent a very awkward hour with Arwen, trying to get their idea across without embarrassing themselves too much. After many tiny stitches, she showed them the result. "(It's…oh wow,)" Khalil could not find words.
"(…Exquisite,)" Lasca finished for him, trembling fingers brushing the soft threads.
"(Is it true what I hear from Mithrandir? You two plan on saving Harad?)" Arwen questioned.
"(Uh, well, that is the plan,)" answered Khalil sheepishly. Arwen broke into a smile, eyes kind.
"(Then I wish you well on your journey. Doubt not, for I perceive the Valar's presence within you.)"
That had been after the final fall of Sauron. To both Lasca and Khalil, the time leading up to it was torturous in its anticipation. The moment the darkness broke, however, something else seemed to have broken within them: their fear. After what they had gone through, they were eager to finish their own quest. To everyone around them, the fall of Sauron was an end to something; however, to the desert children, it was only a beginning.
Lasca watched Khalil's horse plodding ahead of her, mahogany flanks gleaming in the setting sun. She herself rode Malak, dressed in her old clothes. Gandalf had wanted to send some horsemen with them, but watching the soldiers' laughing faces as they celebrated in the streets, they could not bring themselves to drag them away on a mission they had little to do with. A few days later, they set out in the early morning, slipping out of the city onto the misty field completely unnoticed. Lasca had felt very insignificant as she looked back at the White City that soon would be filled with merriment she was not really a part of.
They journeyed leisurely through southern Gondor, protected by a piece of parchment with the royal seal on it. Despite this, wary glances were constantly cast their way. When they reached the Anduin, a boat ferried them across. All around them were signs of rebuilding: farmers planting in the fields, hoping for the late crop, new houses being made in the place of destroyed dwellings, and the burning of hundreds of orc carcasses. Lasca always prayed silently that her own people were not burning with them.
The bright ribbon of the river Harnen appeared ahead of them one afternoon. When they came upon it, they found to their dismay that the bridge had not been repaired. "I don't blame them, personally," said Khalil, sighing. "I wouldn't want any more murderous men crossing my river, either. Well, you know what to do, let's go." This crossing, much less rushed than the first, went quite uneventfully. They decided to rest on the other side. Lasca gazed south; an ocean of sand spread as far as the eye could see. "Where do you suggest we search first?"
"I think we should cut west-southwest. I know of an oasis there. Bound to be a tribe of some sort."
"Do you really think we can do this?"
Khalil glared at her. "Would you stop doubting yourself?! This must be the hundredth time you've asked that!"
"I'm sorry! But you do realize how completely bizarre we'll look asking this, right?"
"Fine, if your so nervous about 'how completely bizarre we'll look,'" Khalil replied in a mocking falsetto, "then I'll do all the talking."
"Oh, Valar no! I wouldn't trust you to say anything!"
Khalil just shook his head.
W00t!! I am officially done with TRAS! I have it all typed up, so it'll be done by the end of the week. Sorry this chapter was so short! The next one is about 1000 words longer. This was more like a filler. I'll be posting the next one in a day or so.
A/N: Okay, in order to have this Ch. make sense, I revised the part in Ch. 12 where Gandalf said Khalil would ride to the Black Gate. I figured that to this story, the final battle was more like a beginning to something (as Lasca thought) and did not hold as much importance.
