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| 17. Wind-Singers Volume III.I: The Final Quest; Ivordir and Daerfalas journey into Gondor to face the Enemy and find tidings of Guldrambor | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 5 2015, 04:14 PM (4,124 Views) | |
| Ivordir | Aug 30 2015, 10:28 PM Post #301 |
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Chapter CCXIII: Daughters of a Vale-Lord Within the manse of refuge in Tumladen, a very young woman paced back and forth in the halls. Her name was Colhel, and her cape was long and gorgeous. She had a sister. Her sister, however, was deformed within her mother's womb, and many jokingly referred to her as a 'Dwarf,' although she never was a Dwarf. They named her Fingaereth, for the way the sun shined on her hair, giving its halo a coppery tint, though her hair was golden-brown. She had often loved playing with her sister, hiding beneath her cape, hugging her legs, as her sister would spin and twirl the fabric around her face. Fingaereth was content with her position nonetheless. She was headstrong and stubborn, with a beautiful grasp. She also often had strange dreams, dreams concerning another who shared her name. She dreamed and wished that she was an elven maiden of mythic lore. She dreamed of herself with coppery-colored hair that ran behind her in great tresses. But she dreamed of herself as tall and strong, like her sister. Elven names were common in Gondor, who had forgotten their origins in many cases. There were bound to be countless overlaps. Fingaereth never yet knew of the elven maiden Fingaereth in the far north, who had her legs devoured by a voracious bear, who barely survived the blood-loss, who had heard the Call of Mandos, only to cling to her life instead. She never knew of Fingaereth's miracle, of how new feet miraciously sprang from the stumps that were her knees, still only the height of a child's, growing slowly over the passing years. Colhel's cape billowed behind her, as her sister played with it, shaking it behind her sister as Colhel ran mirthfully through the halls. Their lord-father was a kind and gentle soul, who was glad to see such mirth singing within his household. As she and her sister neared the guest-rooms, they gazed at Amarthon and Malfinseron, their hearts were smitten. Amarthon and Malfinseron looked at each other in awe and wonder. But Amarthon smiled, "We have had too many hasty marriages on this journey. Let's try to get to know them a little." The sisters did not hear his comment. But when they saw Amarthon's cloak, they nearly fainted in their swooning. They did not say a word, and despite their shock, they continued to run down the halls in their mirth and bliss. |
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| Ivordir | Aug 30 2015, 10:29 PM Post #302 |
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Chapter CCXIV: The Eldar and Westernesse Amarthon sighed, "I wish I could give you a cloak," as he smiled at Malfinseron. Malfinseron laughed, "What is all of this I heard about cloaks magically dividing into three?" Amarthon pulled at the seam and nothing happened. Amarthon sighed, "It would appear that the Powers do not want everyone in Gondor running around with magic cloaks and swords. In fact... a part of me is wondering why any of this has happened..." Malfinseron smirked, "All cloaks are magical." "What do you mean?" "They all sprang from the same Song, according to our oldest myth. Right?" Amarthon nodded, "But most cloaks decay over time, nor retain this much beauty." Malfinseron nodded again, "There is one thing you are forgetting. In ancient Numenor, the Eldar gave us many gifts of power, supposedly. And men lived far longer lives. Where do you think King Elendil and his sons took such gifts on the ships of the Faithful, and then later, after guarding such powers in their tents?" Amarthon smiled, "Do you mean... the vaults in Minas Tirith? But what of Osgiliath, or Minas Ithil?" Malfinseron laughed, "They would have placed them in vaults in all three cities. Now tell me, do you truly believe that, in their flight from the King's Men, that the nobles of Numenor who were Faithful ever wished to part with such gifts, which they had likely hidden in their cellars until the time of their escape?" Amarthon nodded, "Someone had to lose something." Malfinseron smirked, "But not everything. Do you know, my lord-father forbade us to venture into our cellars? I thought it was the wine. Now, I wonder..." The thought glowed in Amarthon's mind, "Yes... some noble Numenorean families likely hid their elven-gifted treasures, brought them across the sea, and hid them in their newly-built manses when the time came. But how many of such artifacts could possibly be left?" Malfinseron nodded, "How many nobles are there in Gondor, compared to the common folk?" Amarthon sighed, "Maybe a thousand or two, give or take, compared to tens of thousands of citizens. All Gondorian nobility came from some sort of Numenorean stock, with exceptions in Anfalas and Andrast, and of course, in northern Lebennin, and Anorien as well. The southern fiefdoms likely kept some of their treasures, though some were likely lost or looted during the Kinstrife and other conflicts." Malfinseron concurred, "Yes. I do not believe it is unusual for we nobles of Numenorean-descent to have maintained our elven gifts, many of which have survived the centuries." Amarthon blinked, "But what of such cloaks?" Malfinseron giggled, "Palantiri, cloaks, crystalline lamps, fine-wrought silver harps, what does it matter?" Amarthon laughed lightly, "I suppose that is true. What did you think of those two ladies?" Malfinseron smiled, "I feel drawn to them." "Both of them?" "I do not know yet. I do not wish to endanger more people." "Come now..." |
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| Ivordir | Aug 30 2015, 10:30 PM Post #303 |
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Chapter CCXV: Brethren Unified Malfinseron's tone grew serious, "After what I did to Rirossel, in all due respect, brother, I believe that I should deny my family-line its lineage!" "Don't ever say that," Amarthon reproached him. "Whoever weds you, will never be wedding Malgelir. Remember this." Malfinseron turned to weeping again, and Amarthon cradled him once more. He was certain that he closed the door before they returned beneath the folds of crimson golden beauty, the beauty that had spared their souls. As Amarthon cradled him, his heart was filled with gratitude, for he now knew that he was spared from a terrible death in a false crusade in Guldrambor's foul name, likely ending in a spiritual drowning, deep in the darkness of the poison that once filled most of his phials. Malfinseron thought of how he had been spared from a terrible fate. The worst of all was despair. Despair could make a brave man suicidal. It could tear entire families asunder. Despair could lead to murder, to innocent deaths, to plundering and stealing and hoarding, while others starved. Despair had to be defeated. Amarthon knew it deeply. Malfinseron dried his tears. Gold glistened glowing, pouring down around them. The cloak slowly began to pulse again. The pulsing rhymed with the rhythm of their heartbeats. Their bond was deeper than blood, deeper than the inner crimson lining of their cloak. They closed their eyes and fell asleep for a nap. |
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| Ivordir | Aug 30 2015, 10:30 PM Post #304 |
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Chapter CCXVI: The Sisters' Accident Fingaereth chased Colhel down the halls, waving her cloak. Colhel laughed and spun around. She accidentally spun Fingaereth into a nearby wall. Fingaereth cradled her bruised arm, as Colhel rushed over to her. Their eyes glistened with tears. Colhel cradled her, "Forgive me.... I beg you......" Fingaerth nodded, "It was only an accident," she sobbed. "I should have let go of the cloak. You are strong..." Colhel nodded, "I know.... too strong for my own good......... oh my poor sister.........." "Can we go inside?" Fingaereth slowly smiled. "Of course, my dear sister...." They hid beneath the folds of Colhel's cape. Her cape was azure-blue, but its folds were of a deep orange, after the color of the standard of their Household. She embraced her sister deeply, careful not to press too hard on her bruises and minor scratches. Outside their great windows, the river surged far below before it bent north again. The sun was shining on its crystalline-blue waters, wind swaying softly through the fir trees. |
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| Ivordir | Aug 30 2015, 10:31 PM Post #305 |
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Chapter CCXVII: The Bonds of Sisterhood Colhel was beautiful. Her hair was golden-brown. At times it seemed fiery red, if the sun was rising or setting, and golden blonde at others. Her eyes were as crystalline and beautiful as the stars. Her vibrant voice made young noblemen swoon at balls. Her cloak swished and flowed behind her as she walked. Her sister was similar in beauty, but many had trouble with her height. Fingaereth seldom had suitors. Suitors had lined the door to Colhel's father's manse. Colhel's face was of a rich and beautiful hue, light reflected off her reddish ruby lips, and she was very well-endowed at her chest and waist. Fingaereth was more playful than her sister, more prone to laughter, and her smiling was often a welcome contrast to Colhel's more solemn expressions. Colhel still knew how to laugh regardless. She laughed oft at her sister's jests. Fingaereth's head swam through the warm orange darkness of her sister's cloak, slithering through the silk, till she found her sister's cheek and deeply kissed it. Colhel richly returned the gesture. She loved her sister, regardless of what anyone thought. Her solemnity hovered around the mistreatment of her sister by other lords and suitors. It was for this chief reason that many promising suitors were driven away, though many of them were daft, never knowing the real reasons behind their rejection. They often cruelly referred to Fingaereth as a "gold miner," hurting her self-esteem for her dwarvish height, placing her in mockery alongside the motif of the greedy, gold-grubbing Dwarves of legend. Some even wondered if she was growing whiskers, pointing and laughing at her face. The main insults all implied that Fingaereth's lord-father was chiefly interested in selling-off his daughter to get more inheritence-money and power from a neighboring house. The daft suitors, cruel within and because of their ignorance, never realized that her lord-father was never interested in playing at such games. He had already inherited a large sum of money from his ancestors. He had no need to beg or borrow. His chief concerns were the long-term happiness of his two daughters. At one point, he had wished for a son, to raise and teach how to ride horses and wield a sword, but he was pleasantly surprised by how much he loved his daughters. He took to living his life like them, rather than letting them try to live like him. He preferred writing, the arts, and dancing, and music, to the world of politics, warfare, and killing. Many of the other lords loved mocking him for this, but in truth, they envied him. They envied how he had escaped the games of lords and princes. And in his older age, Ioristor of Minas Tirith became one of his good friends. He had even thought of wedding one of his daughters to Ivordir and Daerfalas, until their disappearance. But as he watched them filing into his halls, he was no longer worried. He had also gazed at Amarthon and Malfinseron in wonder, he saw Auravon and Sainion with their wives, and he decided to allow his daughters to choose, if now was indeed the time, as his heart began to tell him. |
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| Ivordir | Aug 30 2015, 10:32 PM Post #306 |
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Chapter CCXVIII: Soothing Consolation Colhel and Fingaereth emerged from the cape. Colhel deeply smiled, "You are feeling better?" Fingaereth hugged her again, "Yes, I do!" They laughed and smiled. Fingaereth's smile decreased, "Colhel... am I beautiful?" "Of course you are, love." "No... for real. Am I beauty-beautiful?" "Why would I ever doubt it?" "Then why will no one want to wed me..." "You would not want to wed any of -those- boys anyway, love." "Love, are there any men who arrived of late who we should try?" Colhel knew exactly who Fingaereth meant, "We barely know them, sister. They are ravishingly beautiful..." Fingaereth smirked and giggled, "Of course, are they not?" Colhel nodded, "But I love character more than beauty. We cannot trust them yet. Did you see how they stared at us?" "Oh why oh why must you make me sad again!" "I am sorry.... love, I do not mean to make you sad... I want only to protect you, love. I do not wish to see a man who seems handsome and dashing now to hurt you later, beyond the exchange of rings..." Fingaereth nodded, "I understand... but I still find them pretty." Colhel smirked, "I know how to figure this out... at the ball tonight..." They walked along the halls as sunlight streamed through the opened windows, making the white walls and pillars sparkle and the marble floor gleam. |
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| Ivordir | Aug 30 2015, 10:32 PM Post #307 |
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Chapter CCXIX: Ivordir's Longing Ivordir wandered the halls, thinking of those daughters, but he decided that he would allow his doom to take place first. If he survived his final quest, he reasoned, he would then seek to find a young Lady to wed. But for now, he would sleep his nights away with the phantomtress, the woman formed purely within his imagination, within his dreams. She would ever remain with him, for she dwelt within his mind. She would never betray him, or run away, or flee from danger. And if he should die, she would be there, with him, as he died. But as he slept within his cloak, he realized that such a phantomtress was inadequate. She had no spirit. She had no soul. She was nothing but a character, a figment of his mind. But what if she was real? Only time would tell, if his dreams were real or naught but fantasies. He had set his concerns aside. In life, there was love and war and peace and hate and light and dark and death. In life, there was also hope. And hope is the bride of love. Despair is love's divorcee. Despair is the executioner's axe. Despair is the hordes of Orcs, charging across the plains. But hope was ever borne anew, as gallant Elves charged across fields of verdant green, charging into the ranks of orcs, balrogs, trolls, as eagles waged war on dragons. He had dreamed of such things since he was a little boy. He had played 'elvish knight' as a child and loved the thought of fighting for so noble a cause as hope. He meditated solemnly as he walked. Edited by Ivordir, Sep 25 2015, 06:13 PM.
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| Ivordir | Aug 30 2015, 10:33 PM Post #308 |
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Chapter CCXX: A Safer Ball Later on the 16th, a ball was held at sunset, its orangy-beautiful rays spreading far across the horizon. Many lords were in attendance. And as the dance began, Amarthon, clad in normal Gondorian attire, was suddenly thrust into Colhel's arms. They held each other and danced, and Colhel leaned over, whispering in his ear, "Are you my dear sweet beauty, the beauty of my dreams?" Amarthon was stunned. He smiled politely, "We shall see, my dear. We shall see." The ballroom was filled to the brim with a rainbow of colors as the sunlight dripped vibrantly through the windows, casting the eastern walls between the windows with its vibrant orange-light, as the clouds appeared beautifully, as if an artist had painted them, their borders ablaze with orange, pink, yellow, and reddish hues, as the harpists and drum-beaters and lute-players played tranquil formal dance scores. As Auravon danced warmly with his wife, he felt stunned at the excessive pleasure, that had followed their week of excessive deprivation, the transition between excessive death and hunger and thirst and aches and pains, and excessive life and laughter and love and dancing and feasting and pleasure, the dirty, mucky, muddy earth contrasted with the softness of a pleasant bed in a comfortable chamber. He did not want to tramp through pain and misery again. He no longer even wanted to leave the vale. Colhel smiled as she danced, "Of which House do you belong?" Amarthon nodded, "The Golden Harp... I hail from Pelargir." "Oh I love the Anduin. Do you have a manse right along the water?" "It sits where the grand canals meet the Sirith." "How lovely!" |
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| Ivordir | Aug 30 2015, 10:33 PM Post #309 |
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Chapter CCXXI: A Suspicious Dance Amarthon sadly smiled. He could not bear to tell her about Malnoron. Nor could he bear to tell her that he could never return home. His lord-father would likely leave his House to a friend in his will, due to his betrayal. But then he also morosely remembered that Malnoron still believed that Amarthon was meant to become a King. He did not wish to deceive this girl-turned-young-woman, nor did he wish to hurt her. The dance had changed and he found himself still dancing to the previous one, confusing Colhel, but then he nodded in acknowledgment and changed his foot-work, "Forgive me... I was in thought..." "I could see that. Something... troubles you. I can tell." Amarthon sighed, "It is a long story and it would be better to wait for later." Colhel soberly nodded. Her suspicians were becoming true. She nodded, "What do you think of my sister?" Then Amarthon surprised her. "Your sister is one of the most beautiful beings I have ever seen, equal to you in her beauty. I have observed in the past few hours how those others glance at her, I am most ashamed to see such mistreatment." "Good answer," Colhel smirked. "I always labor for her protection." -And so would I-, Amarthon thought. Colhel nodded, "And what of your friend?" Amarthon warmly smiled, "He has become as if a brother to me. Though... he was different recently. Its a very long story and you likely will not believe many parts of it." Colhel blinked, her heart sank, but she nodded, "Try me... I judge a tale only after I have heard it." Amarthon nodded as they continued their dance. Edited by Ivordir, Aug 30 2015, 10:34 PM.
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| Ivordir | Aug 30 2015, 10:45 PM Post #310 |
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Chapter CCXXII: Smitten Fingaereth sat sadly from the side-lines as the ball progressed. She had sat there patiently through the opening ceremony and the first dances. A part of her had wished to hide in her chamber, but her sister insisted on her attendance. As Fingaereth sat quietly, she turned to see another sitting solemnly beside her. Malfinseron watched the dancers curiously. He did not feel like dancing. She gazed into his beaming eyes, how the lights of the chandeliers highlighted his soft, smooth, silky, rich-golden-brown hair, that glistened not unlike her own. And as he gazed at her, his heart began to pound loudly within his chest, resoundingly, while terror rose within him. For he never wished to harm another woman ever again, and had been intent on vowing celibacy ever since leaving Glaniath, nay, Pelargir, behind him forever and ever. Yet his heart was touched as he gazed at her. Fingaereth, like himself, was lonely and alone. As he was hindered by his past, she was hindered by her birth. Both of them had been hindered in some way. He had broken free from his former wickedness and cruelty, but what if Malgelir would rise again within him? The thought chilled him to the bone. But the warmth of Fingaereth's faint smile touched him. As Fingaereth stared at him, she suddenly moved to speak: "I spoke with Rirossel not too long ago. You know of her, I believe..." Malfinseron nodded sorrowfully, his eyes were filled to the brim with sorrow, the light of the chandeliers reflected in his tears, little flickering candle-lit streams softly flowing, slowly, drop by drop, down his sullen, pale cheeks. He felt a warm feeling and a touch of sterner strength. He looked down to see her, embracing him at his waist. He gazed in shock. Fingaereth smiled as she gazed up into his sullen eyes, "I trust you now... a liar would not have cried." Malfinseron's struggle at maintaining his composure was failing. He gently returned her embrace and tried to smile, "I am not that madman anymore..." "I know you aren't," Fingaereth said as her smile widened, "And you must not believe that you are. Rirossel was apparently cross at you when you left the camp, but she saw how you helped and aided everyone along the road. I don't believe a cruel man would do that." Malfinseron deeply sighed, "I still.... I still............oh very well. But should you not be afraid of me?" Fingaereth gazed at him with a glance of severity, "No. I am afraid of no one." As he gazed down at her stern, brave face, he realized how deeply he felt smitten too. His heart welled to the brim with respect, something he had never felt for a woman, when he was Malgelir. He nearly vowed to protect her even if it meant his death. His confused emotions poured through him. He finally gave-in to the real love that was blooming in his heart. But as Colhel danced with Amarthon, she cast a periodic, wary glance, in their direction. Edited by Ivordir, Aug 30 2015, 10:48 PM.
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| Ivordir | Sep 9 2015, 07:42 AM Post #311 |
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Chapter CCXXIII: Defeating the Past When the Ball was over, Malfinseron wandered alone along one of the high balconies overlooking the river. The moon had arisen, and the stars were gleaming, as the foamy river surged black-blue and deep-grey beneath him. He stood, gazing at the churning waters far below. The oil had burned-out in several of the lamps, save one, that glimmered near one of the side-entrances to the manse. The sullen starlight was reflected in the glimmering gleam, the twinkle in his sad eyes as he gazed downward. As he was ready to approach the railing, he turned to see Fingaereth's sad face, attempting to smile at him, as she stared from where she stood beneath the lamplight, her eyes beaming, and her cloak surging behind her. Malfinseron tried to muster a smile as he gazed at her, "No! Do not come further... my love. Yes, I am in love with you and I admit it, and I must leap because of it..." "Why?" Her eyes gleamed in the lamplight. "Because I am an awful and cruel man, no matter how young, and I can see it clearly now. I have gravely offended... the dignity of my House and of the entire realm of Gondor! I am unfit to live... I have whipped my own officer, Ivordir, brutally, and Daerfalas, his brother, and I took -joy- within their excruciating agony, pleasure in their pain, I prospered in their ruin........ and for so long, I threatened the lives of the House and kin and all manner of fellowship... with the Lady whom I had believed would one day be forced to become my wife......... I am unfit for life, look no further......... turn away." "Well, if you are going to jump, then I am going to watch. A Lord who would truly love me would not abandon me so. Perhaps I was wrong about you, when I gazed at you, when we sat alongside each other. But I must warn you. This is your choice. You will either live the rest of your life with me, a true and honorable Lord, or you will perish in the foam below. But if you perish in the foam below, then -I- will be forced to conclude that life is meaningless, and that I will be doomed for betrothal to a husband who will abuse me, that I am a living shame upon my House and to my Lord-Father, and that even my sister, my beloved Colhel, will be forced to turn away in shame.... and then I will leap after you." Tears gleamed and glistened in her youthful eyes. Malfinseron sobbed, "Even if I knew it for only short, sad moments... those moments would outstretch, becoming an eternity of eternal pain..... why oh why must you do this to me.......? I suppose that this is justice........ it hurts more than lashes of the whip........go on, say more, I deserve it!" Fingaereth boldly replied, "Because I love you. Whether I am just a naive, foolish girl, or an imprudent young Lady, I do not care! I love you........" Malfinseron continued to sob, "You love me? How could you love such a monster?" Fingaereth smiled, "Do you not know? Do you not know that I spoke not only with Lady Rirossel, an hour before the Ball, but also with that brave, honorable Knight, old enough to be my grandfather? I wanted to learn about you..... and while at first I feared you, that old Knight, that dear, sweet old man, told me....... that I might yet save you..........." Malfinseron fought within himself. His first impulse was to jump, but it was halted by a stronger, greater impulse. He saw his two directions clearly, standing at the crossroads between light and dark. To his left, he saw the Heavens, and before him, he saw Ar-Pharazon's Caves beneath the West. He ran to Fingaereth, leaping down onto his knees, enduring the pain of his landing. And they embraced each other deeply. He suddenly felt her warm, wet, tender lips. He felt his heart throbbing. He heard her voice, "Is that better? Come. Hide within my lips. I have never kissed a man before....... oh come to me, I love you..." He returned her kisses in full fervor as their hearts swooned, the light of the lamp, the stars, and the moon, beaming down on them. Malfinseron abandoned the crimes of his past, fleeing into Fingaereth's warm and tender lips. |
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| Ivordir | Sep 9 2015, 07:58 AM Post #312 |
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Chapter CCXXIV: A True Betrothal When they had finished kissing, they looked up to see an older, wizened man, dressed in night-robes and leaning on his cane. The older man smiled, "I saw and heard everything." Fingaereth's eyes widened, "My Lord-Father! I.... we....." Her father smiled, "Calm yourself, my dear. This night is a blessing. I know who you are, Malgelir of the Silver Fist. I know that you are Malfinseron now. I have also been quite weary, if you will pardon me, with Lord Denethon's actions in the south. But I believe that you are safe here, and that you are fit to wed my dearest daughter....." Malfinseron warmly smiled, "I would rather be wed into an honorable House, than return to mine." "Ah," the Lord-Father spoke, "But you may yet also redeem your House.... I believe this...." Malfinseron maintained his smile, not wishing to rebuke the man who might yet become his father. He nodded. Fingaereth laughed, "Did you follow me?" "Of course I did," her father chuckled. "And another of your peers came with me as well." Amarthon came through the doors and stood beside the dear man, "Yes...." Malfinseron's eyes were watery, and so were Fingaereth's, though this time they were filled with -joyful- tears. Amarthon nodded, "And one more came with me." Colhel appeared beside him, "I trust you now, Son of the Silver Fist." Fingaereth laughed, "What drove you all to follow me?" Lord Brenion smiled, glad that he had endured, "I do not know..... but I believe that, after Ivordir's report of your journey, that we wished to prevent further hardships and tragedies...." Malfinseron stood, rushed over, and embraced the man as he laughed and smiled, "And you and your daughters, and my dear friends, have saved my life." Amarthon applauded, "Well done. Now, my dear Lord Brenion, you know that Colhel and I and Malfinseron and Fingaereth, are smitten with each other. On my word of honor, we will not violate the codes of marriage." Brenion laughed, "Of course you will not. But you are quite tempted to, I can tell. I will tell you this. You may all sleep in the chambers that I have prepared for you, provided that the codes will remain unbroken. It is no crime to kiss or embrace before a wedding night. And my beloved Fingaereth, in particular, has suffered long..." Malfinseron nodded, "Fear not. You have the honor of my word." Brenion smiled, "Excellent, my dear gentlemen... my dear sons... now the hour is late, and I must retire for the evening....... rest well, my sons and daughters...." And he hobbled away, back toward his quarter of the manse, trust glowing in his eyes. |
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| Ivordir | Sep 9 2015, 08:15 AM Post #313 |
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Chapter CCXXV: The Deepening Blossom They returned to Amarthon's chamber, and Auravon was there with Rirossel. Amarthon told them everything. Even Rirossel's heart was glowing. And she finally embraced Malfinseron, "I forgive you, truly now..... and my heart is now glad that you did not destroy yourself for my sake......." Malfinseron warmly returned her embrace, "I will never hurt you, nor your House, nor my brethren again..... this I promise you, on my life....." Auravon revealed his cloak, "My brother....." The gold softly streamed down his shoulders, silk piling in plumes of red and golden folds on the floor. He whipped his cloak around Malfinseron as they warmly embraced, kissing each other on the cheek. Then they both looked down and laughed, as a mound of silk slowly arose. Fingaereth had climbed beneath the cloak, "It is amazing in here...." Her head peeked through the folds. Auravon unclasped his cloak and gently set it on Fingaereth's shoulders. She leaped onto one of the beds, gold streaming from her shoulders. She turned and outspread her arms. She glowed ravishingly. Malfinseron knelt down, kissing the cloak. His head ascended through the folds, reaching her warm lips. Then she flourished, spreading and twirling portions of the cloak, as she ran around the room while everyone laughed and smiled, their eyes glowing. Auravon smiled, "Rest in that one.... my wife and I can rest beside Amarthon and Colhel." Amarthon nodded, "Yes." The four of them took two of the beds and moved them together, and grabbed several pillows, and prostrated themselves warmly, enshrouded in Amarthon's vast cloak. Malfinseron was playing with Fingaereth. His heart had not felt so innocent, not since his early childhood. He shook his head, flipping his silky hair, as it streamed ethereally in his flourish. Fingaereth smiled, her heart throbbing. She ran into the center of the room and spun, her heart adrift in her first true ecstasy, as all her previous hurts and pains and fears fell away from her. Malfinseron stared into the glowing majesty before him. Then she turned, covering her mouth with folds of the cloak, gold streaming around her ecstatically, "I am finally a Lady.... and I am coming for you...." She outspread her arms, and as her wings of silk flew behind her, she turned around, flipping her hair majestically. Malfinseron grabbed the hem of the cloak, shaking it, as waves of silk churned flamboyantly up her shoulders as she laughed. She turned as he continued to shake the cloak. She ascended the bed, unclasping the cloak, as he fell backward, as she climbed atop him, before rolling alongside him. Then they buried themselves in the glittering crimson beneath golden beauty, kissing each other warmly, before they drifted ecstatically into the realm of sleep. And Colhel turned to Amarthon and smiled, "Beloved......." And as they kissed, Amarthon felt no longer fearful of the road to come. In time, they all fell asleep alongside each other, after much kissing and embracing, and playing with their cloaks. And they did not violate the codes and customs of marriage betrothals. Their love, at its deepest core, remained chaste. Edited by Ivordir, Sep 9 2015, 11:17 AM.
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| Ivordir | Sep 9 2015, 02:46 PM Post #314 |
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Chapter CCXXVI: The Dawn of Innocence Malfinseron awoke to feel warm lips caressing his own. Fingaereth's voice sounded happy, "Awaken now, my beloved..." He opened his eyes. The others were yawning as well. It was mid-morning. The upper hanging braziers had all burned-out, and sunlight streamed through the beauteous stained-glass windows. Fingaereth grabbed the cloak, clasping it on her shoulders, and processed around the room as if she were a Queen, all the while smiling, "Come... my Malfinseron..." Malfinseron rubbed his eyes, still sleepy, "Yes, my love..." She smiled and fanned her billowing silken wings again. He stared at her, enraptured by her beauty. She twirled as her cloak flew from the floor as if grand, sweeping golden petals, laced with the waving torrents of fierce rivers surging, waving and billowing as soundly as the silken sea that it embodied, the sunlight making her sparkle and glimmer, glitter and gleam, as if she became a living star or the sun itself spinning and dancing in its refulgent rays. Malfinseron felt his heart throb and pulse as he gazed at her ecstatically. She twirled herself back toward him, leaping back on the bed, the cloak billowing atop their heads, "You are too slow, love." He warmly embraced her as they held each other tightly within the deep, red, mist of shadows, buried deep in the interwoven fabric that unified their love. He gently kissed her cheeks as she kissed his, love welling deep within them. The others were resting softly on their beds. Then Fingaereth whispered, "Malfinseron... my love..... let me place the cloak on your shoulders...... stand and dance with it for me...... that I may behold you...." Malfinseron smiled, rising with the pulsing of his heart, the cloak clasped around his shoulders. He stood beautifully in the sunlight and processed, as Fingaereth felt the surging of her heart. She climbed down onto the floor and kissed the cloak, and grabbing its hem, followed him around the room while the others gazed at him in awe of his beauty. Even Rirossel felt entranced. The billowing cloak gleamed in all its beauty as the sunlight reflected on the warm silky tresses of his hair, and then Fingaereth shook the cloak, waves charging upward to his shoulders, mountains sinking into vales, and vales uplifting into mountains, in a simultaneous flow of majesty. Auravon smiled. He felt glad to donate his cloak. Then Fingaereth hid beneath the folds on the floor, climbing and crawling through the crimson caverns, her heart beating, pounding beautifully. Then the cloak was lifted from her eyes. She turned to see him folding his arms together, facing her, upholding many folds of the cloak, covering his mouth as he mimicked her previous motions. Then he outspread his wings as Fingaereth swooned, nearly fainting. They returned to the bed and bound themselves together, wrapping the cloak around them, in the rhythm of the pounding of their hearts. Rirossel turned to Auravon, warmly kissing him, "Come now, my Sun and my Light." "I am here," he smiled, "Heart of my Love." Fingaereth laughed, "Have we lost our minds already?" They all chuckled. Colhel smiled, "Now listen, all of you......... I heard your story, and there is something that concerns me.........." Edited by Ivordir, Sep 9 2015, 04:22 PM.
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| Ivordir | Sep 9 2015, 04:22 PM Post #315 |
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Chapter CCXXVII: Dusk They all turned to her, listening intently. Fingaereth whipped back the cloak. They saw Colhel's worried eyes, mirth seeping away from their hearts. Colhel bowed solemnly, "Are we truly naive to believe that those Pelargir Lords simply ceased to search for you? Are we truly naive to believe that all of this simply ended when you escaped from the south? We must consult with your commander and with our Lord-Father..." Malfinseron soberly sighed, "I do not know what became of my Lord-Father after our escape. And I am afraid of Malnoron." Amarthon nodded sadly, "You are right. Here we are, playing in our mirth, when entire battalions of men could be marching north to accost us." Fingaereth shook her head, "Our Steward would never approve. And we are only two days from Minas Tirith here. This is why this land is such a refuge, should the White City come under assault. They would not dare assail us! Word would travel far, and there are too many witnesses here in the Vale. It would not take long for one such as Prince Imrahil to rally his forces, or Forlong the Fat, or even our Steward himself. Captain Faramir would be on them as fast as thunder! Calm down, beloved sisters and brothers. You know they would not dare. Denethon and Malnoron are mere minor lords, even this Ballithor I have heard tale of. They -want- us to believe that their influence stretches far. But how could it be? How much influence could they possibly have, beneath the gaze of Imrahil, the higher lords of Pelargir, or Forlong?" Malfinseron deeply sighed, "My beloved love... you are very wise. I am impressed. But you should also realize that my Lord-Father knows at least twenty of the Pelargir Lords alone..." Amarthon sighed as he gently stroked Colhel's hair, "It is sadly true. My Lord-Father knows many of the same, and several in Pelargir as well... they have enough to muster a force of several hundred." Fingaereth nodded, "But a movement of soldiers of that number would never be approved!" Malfinseron began gently stroking Fingaereth's hair, "My beloved... listen to me. I was raised by this man. I can tell you that I am a leading authority on the inner workings of his mind, for he tried to teach me! Well, allow me to tilt the dagger further, and render those teachings as his undoing!" "Very well, go on my love." "Very well. Here are the facts. He is too smart for this, and so is Malnoron. They would know that a larger movement of soldiers would be well-noticed by authorities. How do you suppose that they closed their forces on Glaniath? Well, ..." Amarthon nodded, "He would have sent spies to find his targets. Then, he would have moved his forces slowly, in smaller groups, likely in disguise as vagabonds, from town to town, having them hide their armor in much the same way as we hid Lady Melimir's treasures, all of which are safe here. I do not doubt it. And then, once he would spring the trap, he would ensure that the attack was closely monitored and concentrated, so that tidings would neither gather nor travel far. For those who were bound to notice, he would weave a tale of lies, which would be spread. Folk, sadly, are more oft to believe what they hear. Direct-witnesses would be found and executed." Fingaereth deeply sighed, "He is... ingenious... in a terrible way... but my Lord-Father is wise as well." Malfinseron smiled, "I do not doubt him. But we need to warn him at once. He must not admit any of those troublesome Pelargir lords to any of his Balls or other affairs, for that in itself would risk a surprise attack, by force or poison. Amarthon, my brother........ I believe that they might attempt the latter.... for if they poison us all to death, word could spread of some terrible plague spreading from the refuge, a quarantine would be ordered, and that would be the end of us all." Amarthon gazed at him sadly, "We must be prepared for either attack. They could also simply burn these pleasant manses to the ground and imply an accident." Colhel nodded, "Or...they.....they could attempt to lure us away from our present safety, and dispose of us in the wilderness..... oh....this is all so morbid......." Fingaereth shook her head, "Not as morbid as it would have been, if we deceived ourselves into falsely trusting in our safety......" Malfinseron deeply smiled. His betrothed was the wisest Lady he had ever known, "My love..... you are wise and brave..... oh.........." Colhel tried to smile, "Well, at the least... we should discuss our wedding plans....." Fingaereth's face was suddenly struck with terror, "No! We must not have a public wedding!" Colhel gazed at her in shock, "Why ever not? Our Lord-Father would insis-" "No, listen to me! Those suitors whom you rejected..... they hate you and they hate me.... they could be swayed by the likes of Denethon and Malnoron against us...... and they would have to be invited to such a wedding, because they are the heirs to several of the manses in this Vale...... and it would merely grant them another opportunity to poison us, right at our kissing!" Colhel bowed sadly, "You are right....... in this case, we would have to have our weddings occur in secret... oh we were foolish to outright reject them! We've turned most of Tumladen against us........ the only thing protecting us is the fact that their lord-fathers respect our own....... We have no choice. We have to tell him................" Amarthon's eyes blazed with a sudden thought, "Wait....... I just realized something. Now, Colhel, what I have to tell you may shock you, but you must promise me, not to be afraid...." Colhel sadly kissed him on the cheek, "I promise, my love...." And he told her everything about his father, the front in Harondor, his capture, Amanuiron and his false promises, and all that had occurred since then. For she had only been told the story in a brief paraphrase that mainly focused on Malgelir and how he became Malfinseron. But more parts of the story were veiled from both sisters. As she listened, Colhel's heart was ripped asunder, as she listened to his words of plotting and schemes, wicked intentions. He spoke of how he had fouled-up the Company at several points, of the cruelty of his vain quest for glory, the darkness that maneuvered him. Colhel gazed at him in shock, her only impulse telling her to clasp Amarthon's hands all the more tightly, "I.... am glad that you got away from such........ darkness.......... was this being a servant of the Enemy?" Amarthon nodded. Colhel fought back her tears, "Then you should be grateful to even be alive! But you committed treason........" Amarthon sighed, "It was only for a brief time....." "To betray your country once...... means that you can do so again...." "I....I vow not to." Colhel slapped him across the face, "Keep your precious vows!" Amarthon's eyes were filled with tears, "My love." Colhel angrily stood, pushing back the cloak, "You dare to call me this?" Amarthon continued to weep, "I beg of you, listen! I did nothing against our Steward... nothing that harmed any of our ranks... my actions opposed one of the lords who is currently among our foes!" Colhel was now weeping grievously, and all she could do was to fall back into his arms. He cradled her, "Now, now.... my beauty........ I never sought to betray Gondor............... I was to become its King, after all......." "-Our- King," she corrected him as she wept bitterly. But a sudden surge of strength welled in her heart, and all the more she contemplated, and all the more she felt seized by the fangs of guilt, "Forgive me...... I should not have slapped you......" Amarthon smiled ever as his face was drenched with salty tears, "My love...... I understand completely........... now let me finish my idea....... for while I do not seek to be King...... my Lord-Father still believes that his family-line goes back to Ar-Pharazon, and that the Throne is ours......... he wants me to claim the Throne, because the Emissary declared it so........ he still believes this. I believe that this is our greatest defense against him." Fingaereth and Malfinseron, and Rirossel, were all shedding silent tears, all saddened by the sorrow that was unfolding before them. Fingaereth nodded, "What do you want us to do?" Amarthon nodded, "Place me on a Throne in your Lord-Father's great Hall." Fingaereth nodded, "I understand what it is that you are trying to do... but it risks treason! What if our Steward was to..." Amarthon smiled, "He would not. Because all of the Lords of the Vale, excluding their sons, will be told the truth in secret. No word will spread toward the East. And we will only allow our fathers' spies to hear of this Crowning. They will certainly keep it secret, as they will not desire to..." Malfinseron deeply sighed, "Why are we assuming that our fathers are allies to each other? My father likely wants you dead, Amarthon, for tricking him at the feast. He likely wants me dead for betraying him. He likely wants Ivordir and the rest dead for defying and escaping from him. If Malnoron wants you on the Throne, would this not turn them into adversaries?" Auravon opened the door. They neither saw nor heard him leave the room amidst their discourse, but he had slipped away at the suggestion of warning Brenion. Auravon nodded, "I have already spoken with our Lord. His spies were already watchful at the Gates, all carts inspected. They found a cart with poisons and arrested its bearers. They have reported, in exchange for their lives, the fact that there is indeed a quiet civil strife erupting between certain Pelargir Lords. They were sent to kill us by poisoning our wine at our next feast. In return, they shall remain imprisoned... but Denethon and our father are both at each others' throats. Denethon is still alive with an eye-patch. But their conflicts are subtle, through alley fights and poison-methods such as these....... they are very clever at keeping their struggle beneath the eyes and ears of the Higher Lords........." Fingaereth smirked, "So our terrors were for naught..... we are safe so long as they are at war with each other." Auravon smiled, "And it would appear that Ballithor has his hands tied in Dol Amroth. The higher lords who are loyal to our Prince are tightening their leash on him and others of his ilk." Fingaereth's eyes gleamed brightly, "Then we are safe for now...... but we should still remain watchful.......let's avoid the Throne plan for now.... it would attract undesired attention....." The entire chamber was filled with nodding heads. |
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| Ivordir | Sep 9 2015, 04:37 PM Post #316 |
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Chapter CCXXVIII: Ivordir's Self-Pity When word reached Ivordir of what had transpired, he was not surprised. Another day had ended. It had been nigh Midnight on the 17th when he awoke, stirred and sorrowful, leaving Daerfalas behind as Ivordir had quietly crept out of the room, sneaking around the vacant, empty halls, processing sadly, with only the moon and starlight to guide his steps. Morosely, he walked alone on the ramparts. It was dark and the guards were posted at the gates. They were not near the balconies where Ivordir walked. He wore the cloaks that Auruiron and Yucalwe had given to him. He figured that many lords in Gondor wore robes of silk and silky cloaks and capes, as well as of velvet, and various embroideries. He did not care anymore. Gold and crimson flew behind him as he walked sorrowfully. He kissed the air, "I know that you are here." No one replied. He kissed his cloak, "Your lips are hiding from me, within these folds." Not a single vibration was felt from the cloaks. He tried to feel consoled, but could not console himself, for there was never any true consolation in self-pity, and he knew it, and knowing it, he felt it, and wanted to do nothing about it. He shouted in his head, Yes! Let the murderers and traitors and cowards all repent and find their wives... while the noble, honorable, loyal shell of a Captain, marches forth with neither title nor respect, nor even a Lady to love.... yes, oh Eldar of the West, make unto me thine tool, so that when I'm lying dying and choking on air, near-breathless, in my last dead and dying evening, dark shadows oozing from my lips, as is all the more likely from what I've heard and seen, go ahead. Let me die bereft of love. His face became partly maniacal. If any guard had seen his eyes, he would have abandoned his post in terror. Ivordir's rant continued, Yes, let me die......... no heir to carry-on my line, no one to handle the books..... is this your blood-payment Yucalwe, the thanks that I'll get for my doom? Oh yes, maybe we would have all been more well-off being traders of horses! Oh yes, what a wonderful Sigil.... He removed the Sigil from his night-robes and stared at the pale river surging far below, in the moonlight. He stared at that golden crest, how it gleamed in the moonlight. He wanted to throw it. He threw back his arm, but the Sigil dropped from his hand, crashing to the marble floor with a violent clang. He stared at it as it sat there, solemnly, with naught to move it. He gloated at the inanimate object, "Yes, sit there, you piece of refuse! Sit there, lying on your belly." No one heard him. He reached down to pick-up the Sigil. He slowly lifted it, wanting to toss it over the railing. Something moved his hand, placing it in his robes once more. He stared abroad. And no one stood beside him. He felt a sudden wind billow his cloaks violently, as he stood gazing at the moon. He seemed a sorrowful Noldorin Prince from the myths of yore, tragic and yet majestic, pitiful and yet glorious. He heard a shuffle of feet on the ground behind him. He turned. Fingaereth laughed, "Did I scare you?" Ivordir was downcast, "No....... I thought you might be an un-betrothed woman standing there, coming to rescue me from my dreams....." "Well, that would have been too predictable, would it not?" Even Ivordir could not stop himself from laughing. Edited by Ivordir, Sep 9 2015, 04:41 PM.
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| Ivordir | Sep 9 2015, 04:55 PM Post #317 |
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Chapter CCXXIX: Internal Confrontations Fingaereth approached Ivordir, "I've heard everything......" Ivordir gazed at her, partly shocked, and partly not surprised. He stared into her eyes, nodding, "And?" Fingaereth came even closer, "Malfinseron is sleeping, I crept away, not awakening him. I neglected to tell him, but I always came out here alone at night. It was the only time when I could feel.... safe..... secure in myself....... I am sorry, this is a strange thing to say...." Ivordir shook his head, "It is not strange to me." "You seem troubled." "What makes you think that?" "Only troubled men wander alone at night." "Very perceptive. But now, can you guess what that trouble might be?" "You are lonely. You want to wed a Lady, but you have not had time to meet one.... to fall in love....." "And how do you know this, my dear little Dwa-" "Don't call me that!" "I am sorry................... I forget my manners................" "Listen, I can tell. I have felt the same loneliness. Tell me..... do you find me pretty?" "You are very pretty." "And tell me..... if I was to tell you, that my sister might know some Ladies..... would it not help you?" "It might, and it might not." "Who did you dance with at the Ball?" "I did not dance. I sat beside your Lord-Father." "Of course you did. You see, that is the problem. If I had not sat near Malfinseron, I would not have been betrothed to him." "You are betrothed to him because you are -destined- to be so! Destiny has been cruel to me....." "Is that what you think? You have seen wonders that many of us could only gaze on you with envy, to have seen. You have seen ancient myths and glories come to life, before your very eyes. You have beheld the long-lost North, the Kingdom that fell so long ago. You are clad in the majesty of myth and legend, the winds billowing it all behind you, and you....... call this cruel?" Ivordir blinked, "I used to admire such things as a boy........ but what good was all of this, any of it, if it deprived me of love......" "What kind of a Captain are you? What leader would not feel gratified and triumphant in the triumphs of his men? And what will you do now? Become cold and cruel, like the Pelargir scum who dare to refer to themselves as 'lords'?" He was ready to raise his hand at her, but she did not relent. "Are you Ballithor? Denethon? Malnoron? Which one are you?" "I am Ivordir son of Ioristor, a revered and noble, honorable-" "Then you do him shame." Ivordir raised his hand. Fingaereth not only leaped out of the way, but grabbed his fist, grasping it tightly, "No, I will not let you...... I, as a Lady of Tumladen, forbid you to forsake the women and men who serve you.... who aid you............. I forbid it, have I not made myself clear?!!!!" Ivordir threw himself backward on the hard, cold marble in his shame, "Then I have little choice, but to leap...." "Enough talk of leaping! My betrothed trying to slay himself was bad enough! Have you no honor?" "None. I am a cruel, heartless lover, wallowing in his despair." "And who told you that you had to do that, "Captain Ivordir?" Ivordir stared at her dumbstruck. He could not believe it. He could not believe that this dwarf of a Lady had managed to overpower him. He stared up at her, ashamed. He felt ashamed of everything. He felt the touch of a kiss lightly hit his cheek. He stared at Fingaereth. Fingaereth smiled, "You have not hurt me. There is nothing to forgive... I understand your pain." "Nothing can excuse what I have done." "That is true, so here is how you will make-up for it. You will cease to pity yourself right now, as I did when I first laid eyes on Malfinseron. You will listen to me carefully............." Edited by Ivordir, Sep 9 2015, 07:41 PM.
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| Ivordir | Sep 12 2015, 06:13 PM Post #318 |
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Chapter CCXXX: Strife in Pelargir The men were running through the streets and back-alleys, on that same night. "Bar the gates," Malnoron commanded. "We will NOT have -my- son. You will defend these walls in the name of your King. In his absence, I declare myself the King-Regent. You will -obey,- or I will feed your remnants to the river. Too long have the higher lords of the city mocked -me- with their scornful eyes. For too long has the Steward disregarded my existence. For too long have I behaved beneath his gaze. The death of his wife was tragic, oh yes... most tragic. We will dethrone the Steward, and I will place my son upon the Throne. He is impetuous... defiant, but I will show him... oh yes, I will show him that he dare not defy his Lord-Father..... I will show him........... when he sees all around him gag on Denethon's poison, but my spy shall divert my son away..... let Ivordir and his whole company perish." The soldiers were chilled to the bone at his words. They knew that their wives would lose their husbands, their children would lose their fathers, if they dared defy Lord Malnoron. The small battering ram was ramming at the gates. The soldiers barricaded the door. Another spy climbed-in from the ceiling, covering his point of entry. He climbed down the stairs. Malnoron glared at him coldly, "Report!" The spy blinked, "Word will reach his forces soon. Lord Denethon.........." Edited by Ivordir, Sep 12 2015, 06:14 PM.
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| Ivordir | Sep 12 2015, 06:20 PM Post #319 |
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Chapter CCXXXI: Denethon's Epiphany Denethon had been walking on the upper balcony of his manse. The stars were glowing coldly, slowly veiled by the approach of darker clouds. The oil was running-out in the lamps. "Report." One of his soldiers spoke, "We have Malnoron surrounded in his manse." A spy sneaked behind Denethon. He had scaled several walls with his ropes and hooks. Denethon stammered, patting his eye-patch, "I want Malnoron brought to me alive. We could-" Oh I am a fool. A terrible fool. I am as foolish as my son, my rotten weakling of a boy, who dared to stab his own Lord-Father in the eye.... cruel and stupid. You, stars, vanishing beneath the clouds, what have you to say of all of this? My son's curse, I did not avenge. And what revenge shall I then take, I, who fed and bedded and clothed such a cur, flinching at the mere sound of a whip's cracking lash? I should have had Ivordir killed, I should have had Malgelir gain enough courage to slay Ballithor in his sleep! Oh stars, high above the horizon, the Silver Fist still stands defiant. Oh starlight, streaming from the Heavens............ As he stared at the lingering starlight, not noticing his surroundings, suddenly plunged deep in thought, he began to see. I am uglier, more horrid, and more of a coward than my son......................oh Gondor, brave survivor of Numenor....... oh ancient Tree..... whiter than snow.............maybe I will gain the courage, to render unto you the service that you deserve.......... we quarreling lords, I wonder if the ancient elven-beauteous-clad Numenoreans...... ever knew such pain and strife in the beginning.................Not us, not anymore.......... wretches we are born, and wretches we die..........where was I? ....................................................................................................Oh Malnoron..............maybe I will make peace................................................................................., oh, oh, that terribly -dirty- word,................ with you, before this nigh- A sudden arm leaped on him from behind, followed by a cold, chilling feeling about his neck. The stars were not only obscured, but the rest of the city, building by building, plunged into shadow. Then all went black. The spy stepped over Denethon's corpse, shaking the soldier's hand, "You did well to distract him. Now fewer wives and children will lose we, their husbands and fathers." The soldier gripped the spy's hand firmly, "My pleasure. Now, go back and tell your Lord, and I will tell our men in front of his gates." Lord Ballithor will be most pleased... one of two traitors has met the sea. Before they parted ways, the spy and the soldier gripped onto Denethon's bloodied velvet, sneaking him out the front door, and to the banks of the Sirith. The corpse flowed dimly in the darkness, as the last of the stars was veiled above the hasty shadow of the clouds. But in that last glimpse of starlight before the shadows, the head that floated partly unseamed from the rest, still retained his division. One half of the mouth was frowning. The other half was still caught in its smile. Edited by Ivordir, Sep 12 2015, 06:29 PM.
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| Ivordir | Sep 12 2015, 06:46 PM Post #320 |
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Chapter CCXXXII: Malnoron's Power Malnoron grimly smiled, "Well done, my servant." He heard the sounds of battering rams cease at his doors. The men peered outside with caution. It was a mostly-bloodless night. Malnoron barked, "Go to his manor and -seize- his assets. We will state that he perished from a foreign plague, likely borne into Pelargir on a trade ship, and his body was interred with dignity in the sea. Take his coffers, all of it. Bear it hence!" The men bowed and obeyed. Malnoron stood, high and mighty, gloating, "Soon, the higher lords of the city will see -my- glory. Soon, they will swoon in awe of my magnificence, as many swooned in awe of my son." He pointed at a ripped banner of the White Tree, hanging sadly on the wall, "And you, oh Sigil of Power...... thou shalt be mine! And in my first act as King-Regent........ I shalt restore all the pillaged memorials of Castamir the Great.......... I shalt plant the Golden Wing, billowing high above the City........ and peace, I shalt thence make, with the Great Eye............. better to rule with some power, than with none at all.............." There was no one in the manse to hear. ----------------------------------------- Denethon's wife had been sleeping. When she witnessed everything from her hiding place, she cried to the Heavens, "And now.... my love is dead..... my life......my dreams....... and where is my son....." She was weeping bitterly. "Where is my son..............my beloved boy........ oh Malgelir........ I wanted you to be strong......... I wanted you to undo the horrors that your father has done............................I've failed him........................ I longed to change him so, oh.................... ever the times he beat me, I.........even that does not matter now. I loved him, no matter how.......................................those ladies, sitting there snidely at Court................ oh, but I am strong............. I endured my husband......................... we all would have poisoned our husbands by now, if the inheritance laws were not as such......................... those beastly lords, with their squabbles and games! I'll give them squabbles and games........................... but oh Denethon....... sharing in the illustrious name of our Steward......................................................... I cannot explain why........................... I loved you.........................................................." The soldier who had been speaking with Denethon earlier, now burst through the doors. Lady Hith hissed, "Is that rat Malnoron dead yet? Where is my husband? What tidings of my son?" The soldier spoke solemnly and proudly, "Your son..... we do not know............ our Lord is dead. I will give you the following honor, in Lord Ballithor's name...." "YOU TRAITOR!" She stammered. "You may leap from your balcony into the Sirith, or you may taste the steel of my sword." She laughed, "You are a poor liar! I know my husband is not dead. Why, you are trying to deceive me!!!! He will have your head!" "We already have his." She continued to laugh maniacally, "And now then, my dear, honorable, soldier of Gondor! You might as well be Mordor-Spawn!" She grabbed a knife from her dresser, but the soldier's steel had already plunged through her. He took her bloody body up the stairs, leaving a trail of blood behind him, dropping darkly on the dark marble floors, and there, on the balcony, he tossed her corpse. Her eyes were still staring at him maniacally when he tossed her. She vanished beneath the watery abyss. The spy returned and the soldier nodded. The men robbed the treasury, looting all the fine valuables, finery and jewellery, and marched it to the House of the Golden Wing. The soldier, in one final gesture, grabbed a bust of the Silver Fist, tossing it in the flames of the fireplace..... watching it slowly melt... |
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12:43 AM Jul 11