Day 30: Grey Havens

Challenge: "You can never go home again, but the truth is you can never leave home, so it's all right."

--Maya Angelou

Write a story or poem, or create a piece of art on the theme of leaving or returning home.

The Last Haradhrim Night

It was a pleasant, fragrant night. They watched the desert together as the sun set and the stars appeared in the sky, thousands of twinkling lights. The stars seemed so close that one needed only to extend his hand to reach them. The fire burned low, the warm light dancing on the faces of two men. The silence was comfortable. Speaking will break it… Just for a few more moments they wanted to be quiet and delay the inevitable.

But nothing could last forever. Finally, Kadar spoke. “I have enough money now to spare our boys from the service in the Khan’s army.”

Thorongil nodded, knowing what it means.  “I’m glad for you. The people in the city were very generous.”

“They should be thankful to you. You killed the Corsair Captain.”

Thorongil chuckled. “And you did the rest.”

Kadar nodded with a smile, but then he grew serious again. He sighed. “Will you not change your mind?”

Thorongil shook his head, and looked at the stars. “I wish I could go with you. See the tents of your tribe, the children and the herds of horses…”

“Then why not?” Kadar asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“My heart calls me home. Your land is beautiful, but I do not belong here. I feel it stronger every day…”

Kadar smiled sadly. “Maybe once you will show me the woods and green meadows you told me about.”

“Maybe…” Thorongil nodded, but his voice shook slightly. They both knew it will not happen.  Kadar belonged to his land, into the cruel, merciless, beautiful desert.  Thorongil coughed, and smiled to lighten the mood. “You would be cold there.”

Kadar smiled too, but his face was serious as he answered. “You endured the heat here…”

Thorongil looked away. “For that I also have to thank you.”

“You did already. You know what my father told me? Do not thank twice for something that happened just once, if you don’t want it to happen again.”

“I will remember that,” Thorongil smiled. “It’s something I wouldn’t like to repeat.”

Concern was in Kadar’s voice. “Are you sure you are well enough for such a long journey?”    

“Do not worry. I’m all right already. Now it’s just the distance from home that makes my heart ache.”

“Still I will not allow you to walk such a distance. Take the horse you…” the corners of Kadar’s mouth lifted, “…borrowed. It is a gift.”

Thorongil was taken aback for a moment, knowing the price of such a horse in these lands. But it was an offence to decline a gift.

“Thank you, Kadar.” He bowed his head. “May the spirits of the desert watch over your steps.”

“And over yours, Thorongil.”

For the rest of the night, they remained quiet while the fire burned and the stars travelled the sky. It was an unusual friendship they found under those stars – who could have told that when they first met as enemies, a hunter and prey?  But now it seemed to both of them that it lasted too short. They talked together while Thorongil was recovering from his wounds. Kadar, usually not speaking more than necessary, found himself telling the stranger from the North about the life of their tribe, about the men who rode with him, and the Khan trying to subdue them. In return, Thorongil told him about the northern countries, the Elves and Hobbits, and winters with snow, even about the Rangers and their steady watch over the Northern lands.

They enjoyed each other’s company while it lasted, but both knew it will last short. Kadar had to return to his tribe, and Thorongil’s heart ached for the North. Finally the day of the leave-taking came. The last night they spent together, sitting at a small fire. They did not talk anymore, just watched the stars in companionable silence.

 In the morning Kadar turned to the south, and Thorongil to the north.