Day 17: Bree-lands

Challenge: Hobbits are well known for their gift-giving traditions. Write a story or poem in which the exchange of gifts is featured, or use "gifting" as a theme for a piece of art.

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Starry Night

The looks of the two men were still locked, the echo of words falling into the heavy silence. I did not kill your sister…

For a moment Thorongil had the feeling he saw a flicker of doubt in the black eyes, but there was no time for more explaining. The circle narrowed around them, glistening sabres pointing at him. Just the blade on the throat of their leader prevented those sabres from piercing his heart, and he was not sure how long even that can hold.

"Stand up!" he hissed, and pulled the man upward to emphasize the order. He knew that he wouldn't be able to force him if he refused – not with the injured arm. If Kadar decided for death instead of letting him escape, there was nothing he could do. And Kadar did not fear death – that much he could see in his eyes.

For some reason though, the man decided to cooperate, and cautiously stood up. Maybe it were really doubts about what he considered truth so far, but if they were caused by those words or by Kadar's defeat, which could be a sign of the spirits, Thorongil could not say.

"Make way or I will kill him!," he said threateningly, keeping the blade pressed to Kadar's throat.

The circle broke only hesitantly, but Thorongil did not wait, and walked with his hostage through the opening. "Do not follow!" he cried out when the men moved towards him, but it wouldn't work if Kadar wouldn't speak.

"Stay where you are," he said firmly, and as the men obeyed the order, Thorongil was beginning to wonder who is whose hostage here…

When they got out of sight in the maze of crumbling ruins, Thorongil stopped, and looked at the man. "I will remove the blade if you don't turn against me," he said.

Kadar laughed shortly. "The blade does not matter to me. You would be dead if I would want it."

"I thought so…" Thorongil muttered, and lowered the blade. They stood in the dark ruins, and looked at each other. A gust of wind from the desert whirled the dust at their feet, but they did not move.

"She was dead when I found her…" Thorongil said quietly, and the breeze took the words from his lips and carried them to the infinite stars. He paused to look at them, and then continued, struggling with the words. "I… I buried her at the edge of the desert."

Kadar gave him a long, piercing look, as if searching for the truth in his words. Thorongil did not avert his eyes. Finally Kadar shook his head in wonder. "You… buried her?"

"I could not leave her so…"

The silence stretched long. The stars shone in the sky just like in the night two days ago, the night that was her last. It was so easy to become lost in their mysterious depths…

"Someone wants your death, but for that last gift you gave her, I will give you time until the dawn. Go," Kadar said suddenly, his voice firm.

Thorongil bowed his head and turned to leave. But after a few steps, he turned to the other man. "What was her name?" he asked quietly.

"Rasha, Young gazelle..." Kadar said with a shade of sadness, and the words seemed to fill the desert with the scent of cinnamon and jasmine.

Thorongil nodded slowly, and before the echoes of the name died away, he disappeared in the darkness.