Harmindon's Finest

Chapter 30 - Another Journey

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I watched the birds fly over my heads, all colours of the rainbow, squawking cheerfully in the early dawn light.

I held up my hand to hold under the icy-cold trickle of Na'Man ab Jubayr, one of the endless channels that were divided by the massive aqueducts, Harmindon's pride and joy, flowing into a nearby fountain. In a few hours, housewives from all over the city would begin making their way to the fountains, collecting water for their daily chores. With a pang, I remembered that ridiculous, uncomfortable well - and dismissed it quickly lest I think about Malbeth and burst into tears.

I remembered that glorious night when I was arrayed in finest silk, gazing in awe at the splendour of marble halls. Such a difference to my brown cotton dress, light enough to provide relief from the heat that would inevitably come during the day - but hardly distinguishable from the servant's uniforms that were already awake and scurrying about the Ramyah's palace, determined to catch a word of praise for their quiet efficiency. Had I no talent - no nimble fingers, no eye for fashion - I might be one of them.

The tall trees above me stood still, their broad, waxy leaves shadowy in the gloom. I remembered wistfully the tiny, paper-thin leaves in all different shapes and sizes that grew from tiny buds during the spring on trees much smaller and daintier (or larger, gnarled and more intimidating, depending on the age of the forest).

In short - and I realised this with a guilty shock - Harmindon no longer felt like home.

I had no time to dwell on this, however, as a familiar soft clip-clop, clip-clop drew close.

"Miarka, when you told me you had arranged transport -"

"I know, aren't they magnificent?" She squealed, and would have danced about in glee if she wasn't so mindful of the two large horses she led in either hand. Miarka was barely tall enough to reach my shoulder, which made her look even smaller beside the huge beasts. "Lady Túrien was so kind to lend them to us, I told her about our plans and she was so supportive. Once we get to Minas Tirith they'll go back to Harmindon with the next caravan of traders."

"They are huge," I remarked as she tied them up skilfully. "How did you ever learn to ride?"

"Much can change in a year, sister mine. Most of that time I worked with the lonely old horseman that the ramyahani engaged to be 'Master of the Stud,' whatever that means. He had no other help - most people in Harmindon distrust horses on principle - and he was glad of my company. It was sad, saying goodbye," she said, suddenly crestfallen.

"I fear I fit in with 'most people in Harmindon' then," I said, warily eyeing the horse nearest to me. "Miarka, you had a year to learn to ride a horse. I have several hours."

"I know!" Miarka made a brave return to cheerfulness and showed me how to mount, clasping the reins, reaching for the stirrup with a much too flexible leg and swing herself into the saddle with practised ease. I was astounded - the horse was about twice her size.

She waited for me.

"Sorry, how am I supposed to -"

"By the Stars." Miarka swung down and helped me into the saddle, which took a lot of undignified scuffling and some falling, on my part. The poor horse snorted alarmingly if I grabbed his mane to try and balance.

Eventually, this 'hardest part,' as my sister put it encouragingly, was over and I found myself sitting on a horse.

"It's not fair!" I wailed, trembling madly and losing a stirrup for what seemed like the tenth time. We set off at a walk - this horse must have truly been well trained or too old to care much because the way I was panicking must surely have sent any other animal into a frenzy. "Malbeth can do this as easily as walking. And why do we sit like the men, anyway? My dress is all bunched up and it's most uncomfortable."