| Subject: King in shining armour |
Author:
Aragorn
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Date Posted: 22:52:36 04/25/02 Thu
Cold candlelight flickered in the passageway. Crown in hand he moved, silent as a hawk through the night air. His body, not fully healed, was in agony after the day's exertions and all Aragorn wanted to do was curl up and sleep for a week.
One of the courtiers was hastling a girl in a dark corner. Normally he would've gone to help but for the moment he was too tired, and so he sidled past as best he could, trying to not to hear the sounds emerging from the shadows. But soon the voices were raised in anger and faintly the wind brought him snatches of conversation.
"Come on, everyone knows you servant girls are ready, willing and able."
He cringed in disgust, trying to recognise the man's face from this distance but his eyes couldn't penetrate the gloom. Then a new voice, a woman's:
"I may be a servant, but I am not a whore. My body is not for sale, not to you, nor anyone else. However poor I may be, I will never go so low as to be willing to crawl into bed with you!"
Familiar and yet not familiar. The slightly accented vowel sounds belonged to Namün and suddenley he could not ignore the cry for help.
Running back he stood shock still as a man he could now identify as Deollyn, a well known drunkard and abuser of women, held Namün against the wall shouting curses at her as she cringed away. The girl's eyes moved off the courtier's face and onto Aragorn's. He heard the silent plea: help me and wondered why he was still standing there.
Velvet cloak flying the king hurled himself into the fray before Deollyn could even register his presence. Aragorn didn't give the man time to recognise him, knowing that Deollyn would stop fighting if he knew who he was fighting monarch and whirled his right fist into the drunks eye. Grunting Deollyn staggered backwards before pulling a knife from his belt. Namün gasped and Aragorn lunged at the man before he could bring the dagger into play, knocking him to the ground, bringing a shower of punches down upon his head. Deollyn brought his knee up into Aragorn's groin and it was his turn to collapse, groaning. Knife retrieved the attacker advanced on the wounded man, his laugh manic, his eyes wide. Looking up in horror Aragorn was in time to see Namün raise the bowl of water she had been carrying above her head and bring it crashing down on the courtier who collapsed, the insane grin still firmly in place.
Drousily Aragorn pushed himself to his feet and stood looking at the servant girl's arms which were bedecked with bruises and the small trickle of blood that run from her mouth: She was beautiful.
"Namün, what a pleasant surprise," he kept his voice light. "I seem to have had a pretty nasty fall and I was wondering..." his vision blurred and Aragorn felt the faint coming on again, "I was wondering if you would help me back to my quarters."
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