Prompt: Grey Havens: "You can never go home again, but the truth is you can never leave home, so it's all right."
Write a story or poem, or create a piece of art on the theme of leaving or returning home.
Ailos turns his back on Lebennin, only for "Sunny" to have home come brutally and unexpectedly home to him in Gondor.
The city looms. They've come to shelter, to go unremarked – to Pelargir, scarred city, home perhaps.
They pass its broken walls, find the burned-out Haradric quarter. Folk stare – 'til someone rips Sunny's hood off, starts yelling.
Death is a mob: Ailos, terrified, wails as Sunny's torn away...
Suddenly, a woman's voice, speaking Westron, pierces the commotion: "You've his hair?"
Shaking, Ailos fumbles his scrip, produces that lock. Uproar: "He's his!"
Folk disperse, muttering; Ailos scrambles up. "Mine?"
"Your servant, Jhanar," she names dazed, bleeding Sunny. "A coward-vowed traitor's saved, but unwelcome." A pause. "Come. Now!"