Work Text:
Haram sighed of relief when he sat inside the tent: the warmth revived him, after his shift in the cold wind of Erelas. He was drinking his herbal tea, wishing for something stronger, when his companion called from outside: “Haram, come and see, the Beacon of Min-Rimmon is lit!”
Haram sighed again: Engar was a good mate, but he had this habit of wanting to joke all the time: “I heard that before,” he said: “And it was never real!”
“No, Haram, believe me, the Beacons from Rohan are being lit!”
Haram really didn’t want to go back outside: they’ve been working there for ages and the Beacons were never lit. But it could be true, and if so he must attend his duties.
So Haram went outside, looked west, and of course there was no fire.
He turned to meet his friend’s laugher: “Engar,” he said: “I swear, if you do it one more time I’m gonna-” he abruptly stopped.
He rubbed his eyes, and looked again: yes, the fire was still there.
The other Beacon, the Beacon from Gondor, had been lit.
“Oh, come on,” Engar mocked: “I’m not falling for my own joke!”
But Haram didn’t answer, just kept looking east with mouth and eyes opened.
Eventually, Engar gave up and looked too. And the Beacon of Nardol was actually really burning.
“I promise, I will never joke about that again!” he said.