Prince of Knights (An Arabic Love Story)✓

Prince of Knights Chp14

 Salam guys! Here is another chapter hope you like it. 

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"The heart can get really cold if all you've known is winter." 

 *The Wedding*

No matter how many times the vigorous afternoon sun notified wind to keep distance but the mischievous wind disregarded the command as it was exceedingly eager to witness a day such as this one. It unfolded its wings and gazed flabbergasted at the men who held two sided drums and duff in hands. It whirled around the men who cooked lamb and goat for the awaited feast in large cauldrons on open fire. Wind sprinted over to the large crowd of men gathered around a crackling fire, near a gargantuan tent situated on the other side of the tribe, far from the tent constructed for women. It fluttered its wings like a raptor when drums commenced to beat in a beautiful rhythm. Gradually, men from both tribes formed a large circle to witness those who drew out their magnificent swords to sway with the drums.

Instantly, clouds casted a dense blanket of grey over the tribe and shielded sun from sight. Wind raised its head to see what had caused the clouds to act so peculiar. When the elder of the wind trailed the clouds gaze it beamed further, taking sand particles upwards. There stood Faris in his glorious height; he wore a white thobe that touched his new sandals, a white headdress and black 'egal placed on his head with a golden bishth encased on his broad body.

Wind swooned then swept his hair that fell on his shoulders, neatly. Faris was handsome, so prepossessing that by Allah those who wished for this wedding to not occur abandoned that thought and gaped at him. Faris had a small smile that tip toed on his lips when he surveyed the two facing lines of men recite verses of old Bedouin songs. The men that stood in lines were garbed in long black thobes that touched their shins, with traditional salwar. Their swords and carved daggers tied around their waists. 

 Their performance was interrupted frequently by the knights who led their horses in the midst of the crowd and gently urged the horses to move along the duffs. The performers then raised their swords and lifted them up and down with the drums and applause from the spectators. Tonight was the wedding night, a night blessed for a tribe and an imprecation for another one. It was the night where Sheikh Faisal was at last trounced in this feud.

Faris permitted his smile to unfurl on his lips when his brothers, Nasser and Fahd joined the men, swinging their swords. Children from Al Borkan tribe snatched sticks and mirrored the steps of their elders. Sheikh Mubarak drew his sword, the sword that was only unsheathed when it craved blood. However, tonight it was drawn to participate in the jollification of his son's wedding.

Faris perceived how Badr stood alongside him and how he denied to take part in the merrymaking with the Borkans. Khalid had not made an appearance ever since the Borkans arrived at the tribe. When someone were to interrogate his absences Badr would merely reply, 'Khalid made certain things went well'. By Allah, Faris knew better. Both brothers had cousins, friends who could have taken good care of the repast. Khalid engrossed himself in the arrangements so he would not be present.

The reward and dominance Faris was to achieve escorted yet another smile on his lips. As for the younger sibling, Salem, the root of the catastrophe, celebrated with all his heart. Faris knew he was not to be condemned. Salem was still a child he did not discern what he had committed. Faris al Fursan observed as Salem swung his sword, leaped a foot or two in the air then landed gracefully on the sand. Men around them hooted and wolf whistled for him. Salem stood, chest puffed up and shoulders pulled back to show that indeed he was a Sheikh, son of Sheikh Faisal. Faris saw from the corner of his eye when Badr grinned for the first time that day, as though proud of his younger brother.