Taran muttered an oath between clenched teeth as he glanced
about him. The scream rose on the air again, following by a loud
moan and a frightened wail, and Taran immediately turned aside
and slipped into the cover of the bushes. The scraggly bushes of
the East were hard to hide among normally, even with their
strange twistings that a human could fit into easily, but the
strange patterns on Taran’s cloak helped him fit into it easily.
He waited, his grey eyes keen as he glanced about him, feeling
uneasy at the quietness that had fallen. Just as he was about to
despair, the scream rose again. The wind started blowing
fitfully towards him and he listened.
“Tell me... you... it is...” Another voice added its words, a
woman’s this time.
“Merciful Eru... my husband... to you.” A savage oath broke the
following stillness, and a man came around the bend in the road,
his brow furrowed as he snapped the whip he held at the ground.
He glanced about and then slipped into the underbrush across
from Taran and slipped away.
Taran came cautiously out of his hiding, notching an arrow to
his powerful bow. His messy black hair was pulled back with a
strip of leather into a ponytail, and his leather garments were
strong. His stiff leather gloves were cut off at the knuckles to
permit him to move his hand with ease. A longsword and dagger
hung from his belt, and his quiver was covered with strange
patterns of the Harad. He slipped around the corner and came
upon an awful sight.
A small cart lay overturned in the road, it’s traces empty.
Apparently the horse had run away, for he was nowhere to be
seen. A half-naked man lay face-down in the middle of the road,
his back bloody from beating. A dagger haft protruded from his
back, the obvious means of his demise. A woman knelt in the dust
of the road by him, her face in her hands. She scrambled up at
the sound of foot-steps, jerking the dagger out of the man’s
back and holding it before her, a desperate light in her eyes.
It faded as her eyes fell upon him, and a single word fell from
her lips.
“Taran.....” she murmured, her face pale and set. He took a step
towards her.
“Nehrini...” he said softly, compassion clearly written on his
tanned face. She took a step backwards in alarm and gripped the
dagger more firmly.
“Come no closer, sir,” she said firmly, her dark eyes blazing
amidst the whiteness of her face. Her black hair framed it well,
and the dress she was wearing accentuated her beauty, as did all
dresses on her. Taran stopped and sighed softly, letting his
hands, which had been outstretched appealingly, drop to his
sides in despair.
“You will never forgive me?” he murmured, averting his face so
she would not see the tears that he winked away.
“Never!” she said
boldly, but her gaze wavered slightly. She sighed, and said more
softly, “Never. I cannot forgive you for what you have done,
Taran. You killed my only brother. It broke my heart. It broke
my parent’s hearts. It broke my sister’s hearts. Do you think I
could love a man who could do that?”
“I did not do it for my own sake, Nehrini!” Taran pleaded, his
face as white as hers. “I did not know it was your family until
many months later. It was job, for Eru’s sake! A job! And I had
to do it. Even somebody as proud as me has to condescend to a
job sometimes.”
“Do they?” she inquired sarcastically. “I got the feeling you
only took a job if you liked it. And I would have thought you
would have known better than to just randomly take a job! You
should have inquired about the family, shouldn’t you have, Taran?
And you should have recognized the house, shouldn’t you have,
Taran? Elemeen is a small town. There is no excuse for you,
Taran.” Taran gave a broken exclamation and turned away for a
moment. When he turned back, his face was set, but his voice was
even.
“What happened here?” Nehrini threw a contemptuous glance at the
man lying in the road.
“The rich man I was married to. You know the one, the match I
told you about?” Taran nodded mechanically and she continued.
“We were traveling to another town when this highway robber came
out. My husband’s name was Irten, for future reference. Irten
refused to tell him where the money was. The man couldn’t find
it, so he got mad and beat him until he was senseless. Then he
killed him with the dagger, and..... you know the rest.” She
shrugged her shoulders, unwilling to meet Taran’s gaze.
“I suppose we should bury him,” Taran said half-heartedly.
Nehrini threw him a glance and then nodded. Grabbing a shovel
from the over-turned cart, he started to dig. Half an later, he
had finished digging a shallow grave by the roadside. Dragging
Irten into it, he covered him up and then stomped the dirt down.
“Well, that’s one thing done,” Taran remarked to Nehrini, for
all the world as if they were just friends. Nehrini nodded
mutely, her face still white and set. Taran then righted the
cart and picked up the scattered parcels, placing them
methodically in, not daring to look at Nehrini. Turning around,
he walked down the road, following horse-hoofs, and finally
finding the small shaggy pony in some bushes. Bringing him back,
he hitched him to the cart, working in silence. He helped
Nehrini up to the cart. Finally looking at her, he spoke.
“I love you, Nehrini.” Nehrini’s face was dead white as she
looked straight ahead. She clucked to the horse and started to
drive off. Taran took a few steps toward the cart with one hand
out before dropping it and whispering softly, “I love you,
Nehrini.” Turning around, he slipped into the underbrush.
*****************************************************************************
That is all. You want more? Then let it be said that in the town
of Elemeen, a man was found lying on the outskirts, clutching a
withered flower, a dagger in his heart. A small piece of dirty
paper lay next to him, with the words,
’Tell Nehrini Taran lies here, faithful unto death.’
<< Fanatics Plaza
