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Old 08-07-2011, 06:29 PM   #27
Galadriel55
Blossom of Dwimordene
 
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Join Date: Oct 2010
Location: The realm of forgotten words
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Galadriel55 is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Galadriel55 is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Galadriel55 is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Galadriel55 is lost in the dark paths of Moria.
Ghalakrìd turned sharply, feeing that something was not right, only to see the bread disappear in the donkey's mouth. Too late.

Did she hope the Gondorian won't notice? Did she hope that what the ignorant Mule did would pass quietly, unheeded? The beast meant no harm, she knew. But, intended or not, the harm was done. And Ghalakrìd was the one who had to fix it.

Whatever hopes she had, she would not run away or hide from anyone's anger. She faced the stand firmly as the woman inside held up a different loaf ready to smite the thief with it. Ghalakrìd was not surprised; there was very little these Western strangers - and strangers they were, although she was in their midst for over two decades - could do to surprise her by now. Neither was she dismayed when the woman lowered the bread and laughed lightly.

"Ah, well, that one had a fly land on it earlier anyhow."

"I..." Ghalakrìd began to explain, apologise, say all the truth, but she stopped herself in time. Her eyes became remote, sealed, as though they were two windows suddenly slammed shut. She will not go down so low as to beg that Gondorian woman, whatever the cause be. Her clothes may be torn. She may be hungry. But she will not beg. "I will pay."

The woman eyed her sharply but kindly, like a stern disapproving mother looks at a naughty child that scraped her knee while going on another adventure. This was not to Ghalakrìd's liking.

"Well, of course it will need to be paid for, but I've an idea. I wanted to make some apple bread for tomorrow, but when I sent my boy off to find some fruit, he came back with good eatin' apples that I couldn't bear to cut and cook. Of course the rotten scoundrel knew that all along, so it meant he got a big sweet apple with his noon time meal, and it means I haven't got an apple to my name, and a long list of customers planning to stop by my stall on the morrow, hoping to buy a big spiced loaf loaded with fruit. Mayhap we could arrange an understanding between us?"

An understanding? There could be an understanding between them, between Gondor and Rhûn. Just as much as there can be an understanding between the land and the sea, the Sun and the Moon, the day and the night. Those who have victory, and the enemy. Yet there is harmony between the day and the night, one replacing the other, both comming and going in an endless circle. And there is harmony between the land and the sea, one beginning where the other ends. Shall it always be so with Men? The Men of the East and all their deeds and hopes beginning only where the Men of the West are no more?

"An understanding? Yes, if by that you mean an exchange. You need the fruit, you say. Take what it costs to pay for the bread, and if you need more, I am not the one to take more coin than my things are worth," Ghalakrìd finally replied. Her tone was not kindly. She did not seek to befriend any Gondorian, much less a plump baker who was giving her an all-knowing look mixed with a form of pity. She did not need the pity others gave her. All she wanted...

...Did she know what exactly she wanted? She came to Gondor more than twenty years ago to find food and a means of living. There was famine in her homeland after the War. The King's army did not level the country to the ground, but with all the men gone - dead, or lost - there was very little hope for many families. Many mouths to feed and much work to do. Heavy work. And not nearly enough money. That is why she left. She couldn't stand living there a year longer. Just like now, she couldn't bear returning there. She did not know how her little town was faring. She did not want to know. Even if the famine was past years and years ago, she couldn't return.

So this is what I want. A place. A home.
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