| Subject: The meeting in the throne room |
Author:
Vomyr and Legolas
| [ Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted: 20:45:08 07/22/02 Mon
He placed his hands in a thankfully unidenfiable substance and levered himself groggily to his feet. Swiftly he replayed his meeting with the prisoner and its rapid ending. His hand flew to his now empty side and a few choice curse words shattered the silence of the dungeons. So he had escaped and was now armed. The guards outside the gate were unconcious and he did not bother to wake them knowing his inability to answer the questions that would arise. He ran up the stairs and away from that place.
A frown passed over Legolas' beautiful features, like clouds across the sun. Where was it? Where had he left it? Tugging on his golden hair with slender fingers, he racked his brains for when he had last had it. Where...
Of course. It must still be in the training grounds. The excitement caused by the fire had made him more careless than usual, careless enough to leave something so precious to him behind. No matter, he could fetch it now. It was not entirely dark yet; it shouldn't be too hard to spot. Whistling lightly, Legolas headed to the archery greens in search of his bow.
"Who's in charge here?" he bellowed stunning the soldiers into shocked quiet.
"I am."
The words were spoken softly but with a sense of authority. Vomyr turned and beheld the speaker. "Gather a legion of your men and disperse them through the palace."
"I thought we just established that I was in command."
Vomyr glared at the general. "Can you just do it please? I really don't have time to argue with you."
The man moved ebony hair behind his ears and yelled orders to the assembled soldiers. Grumbling they picked themselves up, collected their weapons and assembled around Vomyr and his companion.
He found his bow where he had left it leaning against a fence and picked it up, checking its polished surface for marks. He had had the weapon for eight years; ever since Lady Galadriel had gifted it to him in Lothlorien. It had never failed him yet, and probably never would. The bows of the Galadhrim were crafted to last an eternity.
Over in another corner, near the barracks, a crowd of warriors were gathering. Curiously he went to see what the problem was. A few of the men, recognising him, gave muted greetings of acknowledgement, before turning their attention back to the man standing beside their general. Through the gloom he spotted the mans face. Vomyr? What on earth was a valet doing with a crowd of warriors?
His smooth voice cut calmly and authoratively through the murmurs.
“What’s going on?
Vomyr recognised the new face without difficulty. There were not many elves left in Middle Earth and fewer still in the city of Minas Tirith; besides he had had enough run ins with this particular elf for an angry glare to blossom over his face.
“Nothing that concern you.”
“Ah, Vomyr, there’s no need for that,” he said lightly. It seems my meeting with Aralias may have paid off. “Elessar is my dear friend, therefore any problem in his palace is my concern. I assume that there is a problem? Why else would you be mustering what appears to be a small army?”
Vomyr glared harder. “The problem, your highness is that after the king disappeared I discovered an impostor and imprisoned him accordingly. However due to some unfortunate circumstances the man has escaped and I am in the process of taking measures to prevent him running amuck inside the king’s palace. I would not have done such a thing had I realised the king’s close friends were taking any actions of their own.”
Legolas raised his eyebrows, rather enjoying the reactions of the valet. He was beginning to understand the motives behind Aralias’ charming exterior. It was rather gratifying to watch your opponent squirm.
“How…unfortunate. Of course, I would not dream of hindering your attempts to apprehend the felon. Carry on.”
He turned away regally, catching Sircyn’s eye and noticing the man’s broad grin. He returned it with one of his own.
“How generous of you. Now you, men, this man is armed and dangerous.”
He heard a snicker but ignored it “I want him apprehended as quickly as possible so as not to disturb the court. He may very well know the location of the king so I want him alive if possible but if it comes down to it you have my permission to kill him. Do you all understand?”
There were murmured grumbles and Vomyr glanced stonily at his audience. “Well what are you standing around for? Get a move on!”
Still groaning the soldiers started to move towards the palace. Legolas followed them, his light step and graceful walk a stark contrast to their grudging gait. They were just entering the shadow of the walls when he felt the sudden difference in the air. There was a power in it that was almost tangible- he could feel himself being softly enveloped in its clinging touch. The presence of Lómódë was everywhere like a delicate perfume on the breeze, and it was her familiar signature that made him look round in alarm. He knew enough of her personality by now to realise that she was shy of her powers, and preferred to keep them hidden. Something now was causing her to use them on a scale that even an elf of his few years and little experience could sense it. He quickened his pace sharply, trying to track the source.
“Something’s wrong.”
Vomyr heard the elf’s surprise gasp and started to run after him.
“Something’s wrong? What do you mean?”
The water started to splash around them. “It’s raining inside” he exclaimed loudly. “How is this possible?”
“I’m not sure, but apparantly it is,” Legolas said distractedly. “She could be in trouble. We need to find her.”
“Find who? We need to find the king but it appears that I was the only person to even question his absence.”
“Then go find him!” he almost shouted. His long strides ate up the ground quickly; Vomyr had to hurry to keep up.
“Don’t ignore me,” he was almost jogging now; sweat mixing with the water that trickled down his face. “I don’t understand what’s going on. Who’s this person we need to help?”
“Lómódë, I think. Either her or whoever she’s turned her trickery against. But you’re right. Aragorn’s just as important. You should go.” Go away and leave me alone he added silently.
Lómódë.
Suddenly all thoughts of the king and his plight fled from the valet’s mind.
She’s in danger.
After making such a fuss earlier however he could hardly turn around and search for Lómódë without looking a fool. His hatred increased as he turned down the passageway that led to the throne room, the place to start his search.
The elf chose the same route and Vomyr exulted; Lómódë was in the throne room.
“I’m going to the throne room,” he said smugly. “If you wish to accompany me then you are free to do so.”
“Your kindness astounds me.” Legolas said coolly. “If we’re lucky, she’ll be there, with an explanation for all this.”
His calm words did not make him check his steps however. Although part of the reason for this may have been an attempt to shake the valet from his side. Vomyr was like a leech- uninvited, unwanted, and unnecessarily hard to get rid of. As well as having a manner about him that brought to mind a creature living at the bottom of a pond. Legolas’ concern for his two friends was slightly abated by uncharitable thoughts of what it would be like to squash him beneath his shoe.
The rest of the short journey was conducted in silence. Vomyr was not inclined to make polite conversation and it seemed the elf was equally unresponsive.
The oaken door was flung open as they approached and the valet beheld the scene before him with an acute anguish. His ordered mind rebelled against the mayhem. The worst part was the enormous tree sprouting from the throne, he recalled that it had just been polished the week before; it would now never need polishing again.
Greetings, Prince of Mirkwood. His title echoed through his mind silently an edge of mirth riding on it turning the sign of respect into what was almost an insult. He stopped in confusion.
Who are you?
Look up.
Obediently, he turned his eyes to the upper gallery. Comfortably ensconced in a chair with his feet resting nonchalantly on the nearest rail was Aralias. The tall elf leaned forward and waved patronisingly down at the prince. He did not, however, seem in the least bit concerned for his sister’s welfare. Or surprised by the unusual events in the palace for that matter.
What are you doing up there? he thought furiously, not even sure if the other could hear him. Where’s Lómódë? Is she alright?
Don’t shout, think normally. You haven’t done this very often have you? Don’t bother answering it’s really quite obvious you’re as green as a new shoot. Lómódë’s fine; she’ll be along here shortly so keep your hair on wonderboy. It really would be a shame if you spoiled your youthful looks.
Wonderboy?!? Where had that come from?
Ah, well, he had the information he needed to know now. Lómódë was safe, that as what was important. Giving Aralias a sickeningly sweet smile he turned back to the spluttering valet and pasted an expression of helpful goodwill on his face.
In the middle of the room stood a man as shocked as himself.
“That’s him!” His voice rang out around the crowded hall. “Arrest that man, he’s been impersonating the king!”
Legolas looked at him in utter incomprehension. “If he’s been impersonating the king, he’s been doing an unusually good job of it. I can’t tell the difference myself. Are you sure he’s a fake?” he looked at Aragorn in amusement.
“Are you real?”
“Of course I’m real Legolas. I’m really not in a great mood at the moment so if you can restrain yourself from arresting me I’d really appreciate that. Vomyr I believe I have something that belongs to you.” The king unhooked the valet’s sword from around his waist and handed it to the astonished man. “I’m sorry I had to take it but being stuck in that dungeon forever was starting to look distinctly unattractive.”
“He’s lying! He just looks like the king. I’ve seen his real face!” Vomyr’s voice took on a hysterical tone.
“He is the king.”
Vomyr turned his gaze onto the other. “And how would you know old man?”
“I happen to be an Istar. I recognise that this one is of the line of Numenor.”
Vomyr's voice died in his throat and he backed away self conciously after accepting his sword; eyes downcast.
"Now we're all gathered together," Elessar's voice penetrated through the courtiers chatter, "would some one please tell me what in the world is happening?"
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
] |
|
Feedback: 