Heavy iron-shod boots stirred up the desert sand beneath them, swirling it into the dry desert air. The sun, distorting and undulating in the heat waves that rose from the ground, beat down upon columns of armored soldiers, snaking up and down the wavelike dunes like a great bronze serpent.
I let out a rasping cough as the hot dust entered my lungs, watching as the line disappeared over the nearest dune. I hated marching. The rough, heavy boots I wore chafed against my toes, and I could already feel the warm, slippery blood beginning to gather between them, mixing with the coarse grains of sand that had managed to creep in as well. As I adjusted the crested helmet I wore, I couldn't help but wish for the light leather armor I had favored only days before... Before everything had changed.
"You, eyes front!" An officer cried as he bolted by on an armored bay steed. Whether he was speaking to me or not, I fixed my gaze ahead once more, eager to blend in and stand out as little as possible. Soon we would depart the harsh deserts of Rhun, for we had orders to march on the faraway realm of Gondor... A place that I had only heard of in stories and legends. A land of fair-haired men and of shining white towers that reached to the heavens, of forests greener than the finest emeralds.
A realm that was, to our advantage, accustomed to relative peace.
We had been told that our foe would be few in number and ill-prepared, an easy target for the Golden Horde of the Khan. It would be nothing like the Pit...
If you don't know what the Pit is, it's... Never mind. I should probably tell you the whole story from the beginning. The Pit, the training, how I got here. Who I am. It's a long, sad story, so be prepared. Ready? Good, then allow me to begin...
This is my second draft of the prologue. I plan on possibly redoing it again in the future, but for now I think it'll do. It fits the story better than the original; I realized that several of the things mentioned in the first draft had been removed from the actual story(Whoops, good job me!). Enjoy!
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The Sands of Rhun: A Middle Earth Story(Book 2)
FanfictionEasterlings are trained from a young age in the art of war, and most know nothing but battle. Such is the case with one young Easterling named Rukil, who has done nothing but fight since he was a child. Nobody has ever shown him kindness, and he has...
