Khamul is the Shadow of the East (khamul) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-05-30 21:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, frodo baggins, khamul |
"Ten thousand for the Harley."
Who: Khamul and The Baggins
What: The former officially purchased a motorbike from the latter.
Where: Frodo’s Home in Laguna Beach
When: Saturday Afternoon, 2PM
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
The next day, the day of Khamul’s supposed return, Frodo was alone in the house. Or at least as alone as he ever was in the afternoon. There was the help, of course, but they were more like white noise. Merry was supposedly on his way, but he’d never been known for timeliness.
The clock struck two. And Frodo, sunk low into an oversized armchair, fiddled with the ring in his pocket. The events of the night before seemed like an alcohol-washed dream. He half-wondered if they’d actually happened at all--a hallucination wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. It was all too strange to be real. Or maybe it was so strange that it had to be.
Khamul stood at the gate. In the harshness of the sun he felt lessened somehow. Like he belonged in the shadows and no where else.
Shaking the feeling off, he opened the gate, and strode up to the door. He knocked loudly on the door.
Frodo lurched forward, as his head spun to the door. Suddenly, he felt too alone, if that made any sense at all. He forced himself to stand and walk. He placed his hand on the knob. The twist sent a shock up his arm and into his shoulder.
The wraith man knocked again, impatiently. Had Baggins backed out? Should he even be doing this? He'd brought cash. Ten thousand in cash. He hadn't robbed a bank, though it was probably better not to ask where he'd originally gotten the money from, many years ago.
He knocked once more.
Frodo pulled a stiff breath through his nose and opened the door. “Ah. Khamul, was it? Hello.” He rubbed his shoulder and stepped aside. “Won’t you come in? Can I offer you a drink?”
“Just water,” Khamul replied, stepping past him. The air chilled noticably, before warming once again, as though the air had never been chill at all.
Frodo’s eyes bulged as the cold air cut through him. He held his breath, as if he was afraid to take any of it in... which he was. Still, he walked to a small table by a large window that overlooked the ocean, where a clear glass pitcher of ice water was beginning to bead. He poured Khamul a glass and then one for himself. He’d be sticking with water today.
“You may need to refresh my memory,” Frodo said. “I was a little drunk when we met. And even then, I have an untrustworthy memory.”
Khamul took the water, drinking the glass down without bothering to take in a breath. He set the glass down, "Ten thousand for the Harley." He looked out the window. The view was nice. Familiar in some ways and tugged at his heart. No use thinking about the past. He deposited a duffel bag on the table, "Cash. I can show you the receipt from the bank."
“Really?” Frodo blurted out. “I mean, no need. It’s quite alright.”
Khamul smiled toothily, “If you insist, Mr. Frodo.”
Frodo knew he now had to check inside the bag. This whole thing had a very rickety feel, but it was a rollercoaster he couldn’t get off of now. He unzipped it, and saw that there was indeed money inside. Part of him had expected a severed head. “Looks good. Now, the motorcycle...”
Khamul hadn't put a severed head in a bag in years. Part of his past he was desperate to forget about, at any rate. He nodded his head at Frodo, "The motorcycle."
There was an entrance through the kitchen, which Frodo led him to, nursing his aching shoulder. “Do you have a last name Khamul? Or is that your last name?” He opened the door.
“Khamul is not my family name,” He replied, following Frodo out through the door. He looked forward to seeing the bike again. He was having second thoughts on reselling it.
Frodo flipped the switch. Along with a second switch that opened the garage door itself. Hopefully, Khamul could depart from there.
“Title?” Khamul wasn’t about to go about on this motorcycle without possession of the title. Be too easy for someone to put him away for it.
Frodo hummed. He was confused. Then it dawned on him. He turned around and began sifting through what looked like a closet in the corner but was actually some sort of messy filing cabinet. It was clearly something that was seldom opened. This was the first time he was selling any of his vehicles. “I know I have it here. Just a moment.”
Khamul waited patiently, studying Frodo as he sifted through the closet. Or filing cabinet. He wondered if that was representative of the other man's state of mind. He couldn't help but get a perverse enjoyment out of putting the Baggins on edge.
A blue folder seemed to leap from the piles of papers. “Here it is,” Frodo announced, taking a quick peek. There a few papers inside. Frodo’s eyes briefly locked on the name Isabela Rivaini.
“You might want to make sure that’s everything you need,” he said, as he handed off the folder. He gave Khamul a few moments. His eyes studied the floor in the meantime. He spotted the red stain and frowned. Now he remembered why he’d placed the motorcycle over this spot in the first place. It was a sort of symbolic victory. Oh well, Frodo shrugged.
Khamul looked through the paperwork, and nodded his head. There was signing to be done, which he took care of and handed to Frodo to take care of his part. Meanwhile, he walked over to the bike and circled it. He rubbed at the bloodstain with a foot, "What happened, here?"
Frodo easily could have answered plainly: Oh, that’s where I was stabbed. The impulse came a little too easily, and he felt that meant he should probably fight it.
“Oh, that’s where I was stabbed,” he said. He was notoriously bad at fighting impulses.
“Huh.” Khamul had a variety of gunshot and stab scars, so he knew how it felt. He just hadn’t pictured Frodo for the kind of person to ever get stabbed in the first or last place, “That’s never good.”
He opened a saddle bag, for the putting of paperwork into!
Frodo didn’t laugh. “No, it wasn’t.” He got the impression Khamul knew the feeling. He wanted to feel sorry for him, but something told Frodo that the man had probably done something to deserve it.
He wanted the transaction over and done with. “Well, I think that’s everything. I have some things to get to, so if you don’t mind...” He had nothing to ‘get to’, but he gestured to the wide garage door anyway.
Most of the time, Khamul had done something to deserve it. Once, he hadn’t. That once had cost him. He didn’t want to think about it - technically, he’d deserved that too. Khamul took the keys and started up the bike, “Pleasure doing business with you...Baggins.”
With a roar, the bike took off out of the garage, and disappeared down the street.
Frodo watched him go, planted in the garage. The air grew warm around him and the pain in his shoulder slowly faded away...