Hell have no wrath like a Mandolorian woman's scorn/Haran garnar nayc a’den as…as Mando dala’duraani

This was actually for an English writing activity for POV, so there is four out of the Five POV's there. The one that's not there is Second POV. We were not asked to write in that.

Haran garnar nayc a’den as…as Mando dala’duraanir

(Hell have no wrath like a Mandolorian woman’s scorn)

 

 

It seemed to be another normal day on Mandalore, except the fact that our boys were going off to fight another battle for another client, that makes two this month, it’s not easy being elite mercenaries. I shook my head while I concentrated on making dinner, hopefully most of our boys’ll come back from this one. Well I can’t exactly call them boys, Mandolorian men are only allowed to be boys until they’re eight years old, that’s when they go out to the battle field with their father and learn the ways of battle and how to survive. The women on the other hand aren’t left out either, yes they can stay home and most of the time they do, but they are also able to fight as well. Let’s just say there’s no weak people around here.

 

I stopped cutting the vegetables when I realized I wasn’t alone anymore, quickly changing my grip on the kitchen knife I spun around and grabbed the man behind me by the collar, throwing him onto the ground and holding the knife to his throat. It was after I had nicked his cheek with the blade that I realized that the man I had held at knife point was my beau, Jango.

 

~ ~

 

Jango quietly slipped into the kitchen as Ryi was fixing dinner, not wanting to break her concentration he stayed as quite as a mouse, standing right behind her. Next thing he knew though he was thrust on his back on the kitchen floor with a knife to his throat.

 

“Honey I’m home.” He smiled and said in his rough voice with an accent that sounded like thunder over a stormy sea.

 

Laughing as Ryi helped him up, he brushed himself off. Carefully avoiding getting skewered on the kitchen knife, he wrapped his strong arms around her and held her close.

 

Ryi relaxed into Jango’s embrace, nestling into his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist after unceremoniously tossing the knife onto the kitchen counter. Wishing that this moment would last forever she greedily inhaled his scent and memorized the feel of his skin gently caressing her long, brown hair. Feeling Jango pull away, Ryi looked up into his dark eyes and smiled. Though no one else would be able to tell what the look on Jango’s face meant (or if he even had a look on it at all) Ryi knew. She knew exactly what that look meant, that slight smile his eyes had whenever he came home to her. As Jango smiled back at her, the two of them leaned toward each other and their lips met in a kiss. 

 

The kiss itself wasn’t really that long, but to them it felt like forever, full of all the emotions they had pent up inside themselves. Jango had pulled Ryi tightly into his arms again and she had molded herself to him as always. With them it was always like sea and sky, whether stormy or calm, both of them always fit each other.

 

When they finally broke apart they stayed close, Jango sighed quietly and stroked Ryi’s pale skin with his hand, brushing hair out of her bright hazel eyes. Placing her hand on top of his, Ryi reluctantly broke away and turned back to her cooking.

 

“So who’s the battle with this time?” she asked as she busied herself with dinner.

 

Jango shook his head and smiled, thanking the gods for giving him such a woman.

“Our clients are a group of rebels on the planet Rutan, apparently they’re trying to overthrow their corrupt government but they just can’t seem to do it alone.”

 

Ryi didn’t turn around when she answered him, “If they’re just a small rebel group then how in the name of the Force were they able to afford to hire you and the guys?”

 

Jango shrugged. “I have no idea, Jaster said that they had the patronage of a sympathetic senator of some sort.”

 

He walked over to the table and sat down in his chair while still talking to Ryi.

“It doesn’t really matter to me why were going or who paid us, but Montross said that we shouldn’t even think about going.”

 

“And what did Jaster have to say about that?”

 

Jango ran his fingers over the wood of the old kitchen table, “Jaster blew him off, and he said that this could be seen as something to clean up our record with the galaxy. Plus Jaster said that we’d be at fault for all the lives lost if we don’t go and help them gain their freedom.”

 

Ryi turned around from watching the pot on the stove and gave Jango a sarcastic look. “So we’re now going to be known as the merciful and sympathetic Mandalorians instead of the greatest mercenaries the galaxy has ever seen?”

 

Jango looked her up and down, taking in the picture in front of him. There Ryi was, weight shifted to one side, hand on one hip while the other held a ladle with her head tilted in Jango’s direction with one eyebrow raised.

 

“You know with you just standing there like that, you could make a whole army drop their weapons and run off.”

 

Ryi began to laugh and shook her head, turning back to her cooking after shaking her ladle in a mock threat towards Jango.

“Hell hath no furry like a woman scorned.”

 

Jango got up and walked behind her, gently wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Oh no love, that phrase doesn’t apply to you.”

 

“It doesn’t?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Well than what phrase does?”

 

Jango smiled and kissed her on the cheek. “The seven hells of Corellia hath no furry like a Mandalorian woman scorned.”

 

They both laughed as Ryi turned around and faced Jango again, smiling at him she raised one eyebrow before leaning in and kissing him again.


The end.

Author's Note

Haran garnar nayc a’den as…as Mando dala’duraanir Is the title in Mando'a which is the Mandalorian language created by Karen Traviss who created an entire language for the Mandalorians. Lemme know what you think, and those really geeky Star Wars nerds out there will completely (or should completely) understand the Seven Hells of Corellia joke.