Devastation.
The city wore a gallant crown of smoke and flame that came to illuminate the western slope of the Ephel Duath. Through the streets it could be heard the heart-rending cries of tortured souls who expelled their last notes before the cold caress of death freed them from the mundane character that tied them to this world. Horses whinnied, fiery silhouettes sought peace by throwing themselves into the river, and the metallic sound of the clash of swords and the incessant whistle of arrows piercing air, leather, and flesh seemed an eternal symphony. Those desolate souls who tried to flee to the west, found only a quicker death. Hundreds of archers on horseback kept the plain between the western half of the city and the Rammas Echor, silencing any deserters.
The Khan of Rhûn was heading towards the throne room. His men had specific orders on how to proceed, if everything went as he hoped, he would find everything under control. He dodged inert bodies as he advanced through the halls, corpses of compatriots and enemies alike. The carpet of navy blue and white -typical colors of the kingdom- were now stained red. However, the result was a decisive victory: Osgiliath had fallen, like all the towns and cities that had stood in the way of the great eastern horde.
The white marble doors opened with a heavy blow, and the Khan entered escorted by his bodyguards. He scrutinized the scene carefully, looking first at the empty twin thrones that had once been designed for King Elendil's sons. Around, the room was under the control of the children of the steppe. All the men of Gondor lay motionless on the ground, all but one. ❝A king who kneels? That is not seen every day ❞, thought Margöz as he watched the pallor on Tarannon's face who suddenly seemed to have aged about fifty years. Two curved scimitars around his neck kept him motionless on his knees.
A sincere smile crossed Margöz's face. Things could not have been better; And now he had taken his long-awaited revenge. He thought of the Khan Beli, who had initiated this revolution so many years before, and the Khan Khamonarlion who had led the confederation of Eastern men to march under the same flag against a common enemy. No doubt they would be proud of him. His snakes watched his two commanders.
❝Sain ajil, Yumrûk, Bôri, chi yuu khiikh yostoigoo medej, end avchirch ögnö üü.❞
Khand's native and the Hathig Warrior withdrew their scimitars from the submitted King and left the hall, at the same time a circle of halberds formed around his majesty. A white cat climbed to a throne while a black cat did so on the other. They both stretched out and watched the scene with remarkable indifference. Khan Margöz could not help but find their lack of concern rather amusing.
❝Hail Falastur, king of ... Gondor?, stay there, you have to answer to someone.❞
(@beruthielthequeen)
