Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]

Welcome to Leaves of Laurelin. We hope you enjoy your visit.

You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free. We hope you'll enjoy your time here.

Join our community!


If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features:

Username:   Password:
Add Reply
17. Wind-Singers Volume III.I: The Final Quest; Ivordir and Daerfalas journey into Gondor to face the Enemy and find tidings of Guldrambor
Topic Started: Apr 5 2015, 04:14 PM (4,122 Views)
Ivordir

Chapter CCXLXIII: The Black Prince of Numenor

South in Pelargir, the dancing had concluded. Gurthbainor bade the others to lift his cloak, as they processed as if within a trance, dreamily, up to the throne. As Gurthbainor turned to the others, he said, "Today, I shall be your Ar-Pharazon, for High King Amarthon would wish it so..... and it art endorsed by our Divine Ruler..... now all of you, stand before me, as you did yesterday....."

They obeyed.

He approached each of them once more. He whipped his cloak and wrapped Daechir in it, entering into a warm, wet kiss, "Receive the kiss of dreams... for many dreams shalt thou fulfill.... and this shalt be thy power........" Daechir swooned and obeyed, "It shall be so."

Then Gurthbainor withdrew, turning to the others, "The rest of you shalt not be kissed this day. For my kiss concerns its word and prophecy... far more than its act. Other men may kiss, for love, for lifelong dedication, but this art not what art occurring hither with me! Some of thee art betrothed to Ladies and all of ye shalt be....... and thou shalt bear them thence! And swallow them within our reverie..... for beauty mine shalt beauty be...... masters of our worship and dearest reverie........ I kisseth thee, for mine are the lips of our great Master, my lips are thine oh Melkor, Master of All Things! It is he, who kisseth thee........woman or man, he still shalt kisseth thee............ for his Mouth, I shalt be........... the Mouth of the One, and of his servant, who also art his Mouth........the Lord of Barad-dur."

The others all nodded, for some of them, at first, had indeed been confused. Some had feared that Gurthbainor was mocking men who loved each other deeply, while others feared that he was attempting to turn it into something sacred rather than profane........ most were relieved to learn the truth, that the source of their reverie..... was their Master, and no one else........ and it had naught to do with romantic love. Something had seized their minds, which flowed throughout their bodies. It did not stem from their bodies, to subdue their minds. Their ecstasy was similar to that of the Eldar, and Ivordir and his Company........ but it was not the same. It was a masquerade. For at its heart was the sacrifice, the innocent deaths upon the altar, the blameless blood that had been spilled. When Ivordir wore his cloaks, a similar, throbbing ecstasy, had seized him, most similar to the cloak-dancing that followed each sacrifice. But Ivordir's cloak-dancing was a dance of life, the ecstasy was pure. Gurthbainor led the dance of death, forming an ecstasy profane, in vain. And Sainion's true kiss of compassion undid Gurthbainor's lying kiss of glory. The kissing remained a chaste ritual, nothing more and nothing less, but one was wedded to the light, and the other, to shadow.

Gurthbainor spread his vast wings as he subdued Daechir a third and final time, kissing him harder, "Receive the kiss of power.... for power shalt be thine."

Then he hastily withdrew, and turned to the others, "Receive the kiss of my beauty.... by kissing my cloak."

They all knelt down in a circle around him, grabbing folds of his cloak to bury their heads in and to kiss deeply, their hearts throbbing as they did so, losing themselves in folds of gleaming gold beneath the black. And into his darkness they crawled, as the floor felt softened beneath them, due to the effects of the bile. They all vanished beneath the vast shadow of his cloak, as Gurthbainor stood tall, towering above them, triumphantly.
Edited by Ivordir, Sep 22 2015, 11:32 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXLXIV: The Return of Guldrambor

As Ninniachon Isenadin stared upward at the gold, rendered fiery by the light of the braziers, it suddenly turned into a deep, ruby red, with an orange overlay.

Gurthbainor found himself in a strange cave on the edge of a stranger sea. Golden hair flowed behind the being who stood in front of him, with a vast cloak of gold lined with red silk billowing behind him.

Isenadin climbed out from beneath the cloak, to see a strange face. Gurthbainor seemed transfigured, his features had changed, and the color of his hair had turned into a bright gold, which streamed down his back and shoulders. He stared stunned. The others revealed themselves and remained kneeling on the floor, staring at the being.

"You have entered into the folds of my vision," the being declared to all. "I am Amanuiron, thy true Master, servant of Melkor and Sauron. And you shall be vassals of his realm, in service to the greatest vassal of ye all, thy High-King."

They stared at him entranced. He walked slowly among them, gold flowing as smooth liquid behind him. "I can read thy hearts. I know thy deepest desires."

Suddenly, each person saw only Amanuiron standing before him.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXLXV: The Fall of Himelon

Himelon stood aghast in his robe of purple velvet, gazing into the majesty of Amanuiron's beauty. Himelon's face was well-nourished, and his eyes were piercing. He had a short dark beard and silky hair. Amanuiron beckoned to Himelon, "My sweet fluid floweth through thine veins. Come unto me."

Himelon felt drawn. He could not help himself. He suddenly recalled her, the nights that they had shared together, beneath the stars and moonlight nigh the docks, strolling along, hiding from their parents. He recalled when he first saw her crystalline eyes. He recalled when he learned of their trouble: Himelon was of lower birth, and could not wed her. And they had shared many secret kisses, and she had hidden herself against his chest, and he had spread his cloak around her, and many a night, he had stroked and kissed and buried his face in her silky hair, and she in his, for they felt as one whenever they were together. And she had despised her parents for refusing to bless their marriage. They had lived nigh Tol Ciryani. Her mother was a kind woman, she wanted to protect her from prejudice, for wedding one of lower birth. Her father feared embarrassment. She and Himelon had thought of running away, but they were not survivalists. Bereft of hope and nigh despair, he met Saelbainor and Amarthon, who offered him hope.

His feet took him step by step across the floor, and the closed he reached him, Amanuiron appeared even more brighter, gleaming, glittering, plunging Himelon into a mindless ecstasy as he plunged into the deep blood-red of Amanuiron's cloak. He clung to it and kissed it, feeling Amanuiron's deep embrace, and then he felt his chin beckoned upward, as he felt wet lips touch his own, with the voice, "Receive the kiss of triumph."

The embrace was released as Himelon beheld Amanuiron spinning and waving and twirling his glittering cloak around and over him. And then, Amanuiron spread his arms beneath his cloak, so that it fanned-out wide and deep. Amanuiron spoke triumphantly, "Behold my gift!"

And his cloak spread-out wider, and a human form appeared beneath it, as the head of Himelon's beloved emerged through the folds of the cloak. They kissed and embraced each other deeply, as Amanuiron wove his web around them. The golden cocoon rose higher and higher, till they were lost within it.
Edited by Ivordir, Sep 25 2015, 04:16 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXLXVI: The Fall of Caldor

Caldor fell to his knees at the sight of Amanuiron. He had a thinner face, curly dark hair, and a short beard. He wore a silver tunic. He thought of the past, of his squabbles with the suitors of his now-new wife. He thought of how Malnoron had invited them to an affair as they drank naively from poisoned glasses. He recalled the sense of triumph that he had felt when their bodies were dropped into sea. He recalled the lords' funerary processions through their respective quarters of the city, and how the City Watch was mislead gravely, ultimately forced to abandon their search for criminals.

He looked up to see that Amanuiron's lips and nose were covered with the cloak. He approached slowly, not uttering a single word. He suddenly outstretched his arms, Caldor's wife appearing beside him beneath the folds. Amanuiron beckoned to him to rise.

Rising, Caldor and his wife became enveloped in the cloak, as the couple both felt Amanuiron's warm lips as he proclaimed: "Receive the kiss of love."

And Caldor and his wife hid themselves as they kissed, their hearts throbbing, in the blood-red tide of the cloak of Guldrambor.
Edited by Ivordir, Sep 24 2015, 08:28 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXLXVII: The Fall of Dochon

Dochon had spent many a day meditating in wrathful rage at the ruined Monument of Castamir. His House had been one of his staunchest supporters, and it had fallen on harder times. It had maintained its wealth through trade with Malnoron and Southrons, but it otherwise had lost its reputation. It was known for its treasonous views in the city and shunned by the higher lords. His parents, themselves, were well-intended peaceful citizens, who only disagreed with the majority-view. They had lacked the prudence to keep silent on the matter. Some of Dochon's ancestors even held their poor reputation up on high as an act of honorable loyalty and sacrifice. Dochon had a young, fair, freckled face with gleaming eyes, and longer silky brown hair, and the beginnings of a beard without a mustache. He was wearing a simple robe of deep-green.

He bowed low before Amanuiron. Amanuiron came to him, enveloping him in the cloak, and kissing him: "Receive the kiss of glory."

Dochon's pride soared as he was lost entirely in the cloak.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXLVIII: Dúon's Fall

Dúon had a crisis of conscious. His face had become more sweaty. He pondered all the sacrifices, all the blood that had spilled on his hands. He felt ashamed. He thought of the brave comrades who fell on the front, speared or shot or trampled by Mumakil. He had run away, he was fleeing, when he stopped a thief from robbing one of Malnoron's trading ships on the coast. For his service, he was rewarded. And now he felt sick.

He gazed up into those terrible eyes that glared at him in their horror. Dúon drew his sword, and Amanuiron laughed, drawing his own. He whipped back his cloak and they clashed to and fro in vast, slick, strokes across the room, steel on steel. Amanuiron kicked Dúon backwards. As Dúon struggled to rise, he gazed in terror as Amanuiron outstretched his arms, flames bellowing beneath his cloak, consuming him, but then the flames suddenly vanished. Dúon's blade had vanished.

The voice spoke, "They called you a coward, did they not? They cursed at you, mocked you, spat on you.... why do you fight me, and not them?"

Amanuiron whipped back his cloak, revealing the most glorious golden coat of mail that Dúon had ever seen.

Dúon stood shaken, "Forgive me.... I...I surrender, my master."

He was soon consumed by the cloak, and by the kiss: "Receive the kiss of battle."

His long curly hair, clean-shaven face, plain chain-mail and sorrowful eyes, all vanished beneath the gold.
Edited by Ivordir, Sep 24 2015, 09:57 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXLXIX: Limben Drowned

Limben had a clean-shaven face, his eyes were the color of the morning mist that often formed at times along the coast, and his longer hair was silky-brown. He was wearing a sea-blue tunic.

He heard the voice: "Come, and sail unto me. For I am thy Eastern Star."

Limben remembered when he had nearly drowned at sea. The sun was veiled by clouds, the fog was thick and deep, the Captain of the merchant-ship was yelling orders, and men were bumping into each other as they labored to check the knots, lest they crash on the coast. Limben had plunged off the ship after tripping over a rope, the ice-cold wintery waters had made his limbs fall limp, and he had vaguely heard someone shouting: "Man overboard!"

The ship had been in Malnoron's service.

He felt the rope, grabbing it with all his might, as the men pulled him up and he landed on the deck, soaking wet, like a caught fish. The Captain gave him leave to cover, he was bundled in warm blankets, as his entirely body shivered, his teeth clattering.

His entire mind was shivering now, as he stared at Amanuiron's beauty and obeyed. Amanuiron danced and waved and billowed his gigantic cloak, running around Limben faster and faster, as if he was a ship caught in a whirlpool, sinking deeper and deeper in a storm at sea. Then, he was drowned in the blood-red waves of the cloak, as he felt the kiss press into his drowned lips, "Receive the kiss of water."

He latched onto Amanuiron's cloak, kissing it, as he grasped it tightly.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXLXX: Silevren Falters

Silevren had ever enjoyed listening to stories as a child. But he had a perceptive mind. He had learned the mythic tales of Numenor, the root origins of Gondorian history. He had learned of the Faithful and the King's Men and what had befallen Numenor. But he probed the subject further in Pelargir's libraries as he grew older, and as he grew, he knew to keep his true feelings to himself. He had become enraptured with Ar-Pharazon, for he had spent most of his life in the library, much to his lord-father's dismay. Whenever his father banned him from going, he'd slip out the doors when no one was looking, with the aid of diversions from his mother. He'd also escape any guards who were set to watch him. He had been beaten several times, but each hard lesson merely served to increased his resolve: to outdo his entire House, and nay, the entire nobility of Pelargir, in intelligence. He became enraptured with his own mind and potential, seeking power through the growth of knowledge.

His parents eventually relented.

Silevren had spent his time growing his silky-golden-brown straight beard and hair as long as possible, for he admired the long and storied hairs of sages. And he robed himself elaborately. Today, he was wearing a robe of silk and velvet azure, as his grey eyes glimmered darkly.

Amanuiron turned, whipped his cloak in the air, and revealed a long, straight, silky golden beard. Silevren stood enraptured as he was instructed to close his eyes, only to open them, to find himself in a vast library, with golden shelves, and filled to the brim with tomes in special bindings. Even the scrolls and pages were coated with dried liquid gold. Silevren's heart was pounding. He wished to probe them. Yet beautiful still was Amanuiron himself. Silevren closed his eyes again.

He reopened them to find himself in a vast yet empty citadel, as Amanuiron had turned his back, beginning his ascent to a marble-white throne. Silevren grabbed the end of his cloak as they processed. When Amanuiron turned, he proclaimed: "Behold! For I am your Ar-Pharazon."

Silevren dropped to his knees, but Amanuiron bade him stand, as Silevren became enveloped in the cloak. He felt Amanuiron's lips, "Receive the kiss of knowledge." Silevren then buried his face against the silky beard, closing his eyes in that embrace.
Edited by Ivordir, Apr 24 2016, 01:47 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXLXXI: Gwathron's Plunge

Gwathron fell to the floor in the same sway of feelings in which he had fallen before Amarthon, who he had returned from the East. Gwathron's face was well-rounded, his grey eyes had the sparkle of diamonds, and he had a silky brown lower-beard, while the rest of his face was clean-shaven. He had no mustache. He was wearing a maroon robe and cloak, with the clasp of a golden harp. Gwathron had long befriended Amarthon, his cousin, and enjoyed playing with him and the twins as a child. They had run through the halls, hoping to avoid Malnoron, who would chastise them for disrupting family business. Malnoron was ever a stern man. In time, he had loved resting with his cousins in Amarthon's vast cloak.

Gwathron's own parents had remained Malnoron's subordinates, for they owed their reputation and wealth in the city, greatly to him. And Gwathron was ever loyal.

Amanuiron beckoned to him, "Rise." And Amanuiron spread-out his cloak, blood-red silk glowing as it fell from his arms, as Gwathron ran to it, burying his face in the folds, as he plunged inside them. Then, he felt the lips, "Receive the kiss of blood. For you are loyal, even unto death."

Gwathron latched himself onto him, kissing deeply into the depths of deep-blood-red.
Edited by Ivordir, Sep 24 2015, 09:30 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXLXXII: The Fall of Morchon

Morchon stared longingly at Amanuiron's molten gold. Morchon had been forced to eat rats in his brief turn with poverty. He had been forced to beg with his parents in the street. Malnoron had barely recognized them from his earlier trading ventures, when they had met on occasion. Malnoron felt moved to aid them. Soon, they were back in business, and gold and silver coins flowed into their silver and gold purses. Morchon had even fallen in love with the daughter of another trade-lord, but she had died before her time from a disease borne into the city by rats on trading ships. Morchon had mourned for many days. The allure of wealth filled his soul. For he began to reason madly, that coins would outlive him, and they would never die. He buried his grief in his lust for wealth and power, and beauty.

And now he was courting many fair young maidens, several of whom had bonded together, and closely with him, for they had connived that they would be sisters, one of them would wed Morchon, and then he would love the rest of them as sisters, and the wealth would flow as powerfully as the Celos and Sirith Rivers, and as swiftly as the Anduin into the Bay of Belfalas. Morchon had grown-out his hair as long as possible, raven-black and silky, as his face remained clean-shaven. He knew of their plot, he had forsaken his grief, and decided to go along with it.

Amanuiron smiled, "Come unto me..... behold my golden beauty!"

Amanuiron spun and flailed his cloak magnificently, as golden coins flew around him, not one of them striking Morchon, who tried to grab at them. And then Amanuiron redirected his attention, as his cloak began to rise, the apparitions of human forms rising beneath the cloak. He outspread his arms, revealing the ladies. Morchon dove into all of it, as he felt Amanuiron's lips, "Receive the kiss of gold."

The maidens all shook Amanuiron's glimmering cloak, as Morchon gazed into the gold deeply, his mind far gone.
Edited by Ivordir, Sep 24 2015, 09:42 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXLXXIII: Daechir's Doom

Daechon's hair was long, straight and silky, of golden brown. He had kept his upper lips and lower nose clean-shaven, but he had grown and nourished a long and magnificent beard from his lower-chin, kept straight by perfumed oils. His face was thin. His eyes had a strangely powerful gleam. He wore an elaborate red and silver robe and cloak, presented to him as a gift from Ninniachon Isenadin's lord-father.

He ran toward Amanuiron, who enveloped him quickly, kissing his lips: "Receive the kiss of magic."

And then he released the embrace, "Behold!"

He spun around in circles, his golden cloak caught on fire, burning brightly as he spun, and then the flames went out, and not a single blemish was on the cloak. Then he plunged into a golden mist that filled the room. Daechon shielded his eyes, as a vast wind blew the mist away. And then Amanuiron hid his face in his cloak. He stood, an apparition, gold streaming all around him. A vast wind billowed his cloak, which grew longer and longer, as he rose higher and higher, and in a flash of light, he had transformed into an eagle with golden wings, as he flew around the room. Then he landed, his cloak restored, billowing behind him. Daechon ran into him, embracing him, and kissing the cloak. He heard the voice: "These powers shall be thine...." He vanished within its folds.
Edited by Ivordir, Nov 19 2015, 12:06 AM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXLXXIV: Ninniachon Isenadin

Isenadin stroked his long and silky golden-brown hair, which formed a deep cloak of its own as it fell down his shoulders to the floor. He felt his smooth, nourished skin across his face. He felt Amanuiron's gaze fall on his pearly eyes. He was wearing his golden-orange cloak of silk, which streamed to the floor beneath his hair. His tunic was ruby-red. And Isenadin thought back to all the mocking and the bullying, and how the taller noble sons had even tried to drown him in the river before the guards stopped them. Some of the victims of sacrifice were those same assailants. Isenadin had felt coldly and insanely satisfied. And he preened himself, obsessed with his appearance.

He closed his eyes and reopened them, to see that Amanuiron now appeared to be Isenadin's age of eighteen, the golden hair longer and even more beautiful, and the cloak just as long as that of his taller self.

"Come unto me," Amanuiron bade him. Isenadin obeyed, crossing the floor with care.

Amanuiron proclaimed: "Behold......."

Isenadin felt those pretty, wet lips, "Receive the kiss of beauty."

Isenadin felt the fabric whirl around them. He felt them rising, higher and higher, the cloak draping in its beauty. He felt his own cloak stretch vastly wide and long as they rose, the fabric glittering even brighter, gloriously beautiful, as Isenadin's heart throbbed. And then he suddenly fell into the piles of billowing silk, vanishing into the dark abyss beneath the folds.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXLXXV: Guldrambor's Victory

The real Guldrambor was unaware of what had transpired, for the liquid was separate from himself. He had crafted a shipment of it from his continued corruption of the lorien plants, the seeds that he had scattered, as they had grown within his cave, and he kept reproducing them. Shipments had been sent by caravan by his most elite allies, brought to Umbar, and ultimately shipped to Pelargir on Malnoron's trading vessels. It was all part of a master plan to force Gondor to bend the knee to its new masters. Guldrambor deferred to Sauron, knowing him to be the greater in his power.

But the mirages of Amanuiron vanished all at once from their eyes. Their visions had suddenly ended. And there stood Gurthbainor in place of Guldrambor.

Gurthbainor dawned his Saelbainor smile, "Return now to your homes. Do not forget what we have seen."

And Gurthbainor returned alone into his deeper resting place. He thought of his conversation with Guldrambor on the shores of Rhun, how Guldrambor had not attempted to remove Gurthbainor from Sauron's service. For Gurthbainor had found him shortly after Amarthon had departed, for Barad-dur had finally caught wind of a mysterious Maia influencing several tribes of Easterlings, with servants among the Variags, the Haradrim, and the Corsairs of Umbar. Guldrambor had bowed as a vassal of Sauron. And Barad-dur had accepted his loyalty, allowing him to use his poisons to their advantage. For Morgul spells and blades were effective on the field, but not for swaying and corrupting Gondor from within. And the Great Eye remained ever watchful.

Gurthbainor appreciated seeing the mirage of Amanuiron, but he was neither fooled nor swayed, for he had known the system. Yet Amanuiron had recounted Gurthbainor's deepest desires. And Gurthbainor beheld Amanuiron in an iridescent cloak, glimmering brighter and sharper in its spectrum.

Smiling to himself as he remembered, Gurthbainor fell asleep within his darkened silks.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXLXXVI: Magic and Beauty

Daechon bade Isenadin to follow him, as they returned to his manse in the East Garth of the city, on a tier higher than the Wharf. The Wharf was visible down below from the balcony nigh his chamber. His resting place was draped in silks, as was his wardrobe, for his parents were patrons of Isenadin's lord-father, and they were wealthy and proud.

Isenadin vanished into the wardrobe, as he was oft allowed to do. For Daechon had befriended him. Their friendship was chaste and deep. They often took to drinking wine together, or otherwise resting in their hedonism. Isenadin ever loved aiding Daechon in testing his tricks.

But now there was newer magic.

Their consciences ever bugged them about the sacrifices, pestering them relentlessly. But they ever attempted to rationalize it.

Daechon had ever taken great pleasure in preening Isenadin, for he believe that it was just, for all the prejudice that Isenadin faced on a daily basis due to his height. Isenadin loved the attention.

Isenadin ran out of the wardrobe in a long and wide cloak of orange silk, gleaming brightly. He shined in his beauty as he ran across the room, his silky hair flowing behind him. He stood triumphantly by the resting place, his cloak pouring around him and down onto the floor.

Daechon laughed and smiled, and hid in the wardrobe himself. He emerged wearing his largest, brightest cloak, of the richest Haradrim silk, of a bright and fiery golden-red. He spread his cloak aloft, "And now behold the kiss of magic." He was still in awe of what he had come to regard as a mystical occurrence. He mimicked the actions of Amanuiron, spinning as the cloak fanned and billowed brightly around him as it glittered in its refulgence, Isenadin watching him with delight. But then the mirage from the bile emerged. He watched as Daechon's golden-brown silky chin-beard appeared to grow longer, vaster, and silkier, as it gleamed brighter, while his hair grew longer and did the same, as if forming another cloak around him. Isenadin stood mesmerized. He ran and vanished into Daechon's fiery abyss between the folds. They embraced each other close. He thought he saw dancing lights inside the cloak, dancing in various forms, glittering and glowing as they danced, until they all suddenly vanished at once. Darkness filled the once-refulgent shroud.

They danced as they often would, and then reclined alongside each other at the resting place. They kissed each other deeply on the cheek in the name of magic and beauty. Isenadin buried his face in Daechon's silken beard, as Daechon stroked his hair, before they vanished into the depths of magical beauty beneath their cloaks. All they did was embrace and bury their heads in each others' cloaks. And they felt completely restful, at peace... and incapable of evil. But the darkness grew, choking away all life.

And they dimly heard the commotion from outside, a Captain of the Guard reciting a dispatch, right before the axe fell as the sentence was dispatched, the caught traitor's head rolling off the block in a blood-soaked fury as it fell into the river before it floated to the sea, where a dark beast from oceanic depths devoured it.
Edited by Ivordir, Nov 19 2015, 12:08 AM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXLXXVII: To Trap a Traitor

And so the 19th continued. It was mid-day back north in Tumladen.

Amarthandor, by now, had confessed everything to Mithon and Colhel and Fingaereth's Lord Father, Brenion, who looked grey and aghast at the situation. They explained Amarthandor's miraculous survival. Execution was immediately ruled-out yet again.

Brenion paced back and forth in his velvet-blue robe, his greying hairs shining slightly in the sunlight, "Malnoron is a grave traitor."

Amarthandor noted, "You must keep this quiet. Please do not misunderstand my words, my Lord. Please know this..... these men long for history, for notoriety, and I believe that it is our exercise of justice and honor to deny them this. They must be denied even the grace of remembrance, lest some other treasonous minds seek to follow their example!"

Mithon nodded, "He's right, my Lord. Long have I served in the wilds, and I humbly thank His Lordship for permitting me to speak within this audience."

"Any of the Southern Dunedain are friends of mine," Lord Brenion smiled in reply, "Anyone who serves the Steward-Heir."

"We do not yet know of our Captain Boromir's fate, and we will remain in hope for his return. For now, we serve Lord Faramir, as ever. Regarding this crisis, we do not want any future fell worship down the line, and we must crush this problem before any historian might record, save for Ivordir or Sainion or one of our men, who would keep it hidden and secret from general knowledge. I would not have virtuous deeds be forgotten, but fell deeds should ne'r be generally known."

Ivordir smiled, "Please know that this is indeed most necessary, to maintain our stability. I will pen the words and keep them hidden, if I ever have time to write again. For now, let us be wary, for our Enemy is cruel............... I suspect that several of these young men, though treasonous, are akin to infants playing with fire."

Mithon smiled and nodded, "You mean..... they might be gravely deceived, and some of them unaware of the true gravity of their deeds...... it is certainly possible."

Auravon sighed, "We need to decapitate this Black Serpent. It is chiefly Gurthbainor's doing...... or his masters in Umbar who raised him so........or........ alternatively........ there is some connection that we are missing, some key.......... our foe is grave."

Ivordir deeply sighed, "Yes, one of our grave adversaries has a part to play in all of this."

Mithon wondered, "Which grave adversary?"

Ivordir heaved a deep sigh, "It is a long story. Suffice it to say, a servant of the Enemy in the Rhunic regions has been giving trouble to certain friends of mine, through his agents in Umbar and even closer regions....... even Malnoron has entered into his service. He is a vassal of Mor-"

Mithon shouted, "Speak not that name so freely, so near to that accursed land! But I take your point..... the Enemy has many vassals, and some more powerful and fell than others. If this one has such influence......... why, could he be one of the Nine? It is said that one of them was once an accursed Easterling."

Ivordir nodded, "It could be...... or some other Cargul."

"I believe that you know the answer."

"I am bound by sacred Oath to refrain from discussing this further, an Oath that I took before a wise and powerful Lord, who serves our cause most willingly. This is as much as I may state, for you would understand the importance of refraining from breaching such vows. To do so would be a grave dishonor."

Mithon nodded, "Then, for honor's sake, I shall not press you further. I believe you....... although I cannot yet tell why. There is something powerful amongst us........... what shall we do about Malnoron?"

Lord Brenion shook his head, "He is too powerful............ how will we gain aid against such a lord, without telling greater fragments of the truth?"

Amarthandor kept pacing back and forth, "If we kill him........... my fear is that the East will retaliate from the South............with great and grievous force.........should they lose touch with their agents in Pelargir."

Auravon sighed, "Such an invasion is inevitable, if they are truly planning it as we have suspected........"

Ivordir closed his eyes, "We must draw him to us. We must return to open roads, and face whatever fate that we will face. The sooner that he is facing us, rather than plotting in Pelargir, the better."

"It is a grave gamble," Mithon noted. "Yet our rangers have a refuge where we have a river crossing, directly west from Emyn Arnen. The main road is not far from those woods."

Ivordir smiled, "Brilliant. You will send word to your allies, we will lure them into a trap, as many a convoy of Haradrim are thus lured. They shall be most ill-prepared to contend with the likes of you and your men."

Mithon smiled, "-Our- men, my Captain. Remember......."

Ivordir nodded.
Edited by Ivordir, Oct 1 2015, 11:33 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXLXXVIII: The Quarrel

Rirossel slapped Auravon across the face, "TRAITOR!"

Auravon sighed sadly, "I repented of it....."

"Oh how honorable of you, my darling.... positively honorable.... you bear witness to the bloodthirsty murder of innocent women and men....... and you dare to claim that this is all simply in the past!"

"You saw what happened to my brother!"

"This does not mean that I, therefore, shall enjoy it. So I abandoned the love-beating sadist to wed the prince of my dreams, who was a servant of the Enemy and murderer! How am I supposed to...to feel? That this is somehow a joyous occasion?"

"I never said....."

"Men have lost their heads on blocks, for crimes far lesser than yours. I shall tell the Steward, himself, when we reach Minas Tirith! No, don't you dare smoother me in that shiny cloak of your, however alluring, or I shall shove it right back at you, or better yet! I should transform it into a noose around your neck and watch you hang until your limbs fall limp! I am leaving!"

She began to storm toward the door, but he was much too fast, as the cloak suddenly billowed over top of her. She fought it and fought it with all of her might, but the power of its sensations whirled through her as she fought. But she did not scream. She had ever refused to be "just another screaming woman." She had been too tired to fight the night earlier, when she had merely closed her eyes in shock and disbelief, awakening that morning, in the hopes that it was all merely another bad dream. And now, she was weeping beneath the cloak. Weeping bitterly, her stomach churning, she surrendered to the pleasant feelings of the cloak. And then she felt his arms around her, and felt that they were tender, and then she fainted.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXLXXIX: Lords of Dreams and Rings

A lone rider rode on a heavy-armored horse, robed in cotton-black. He dismounted nigh the Sea of Rhun and passed into the caverns. The shadow rose around him, but he showed no fear, for he was one of many servants.

His breath stank and his teeth were rotten, "My Master, Sauron the Great, hath grown impatient with thee. Where art thy efforts victories? For thou hath failed to convert even a portion of the Easterlings..."

A lonely, deathly voice spoke from the shadow, "Long I had hid from the White and Twain Blue........."

"The White art of many colours now. And he too art a traitor. Know ye not this?"

The voice continued, "My servants in Umbar hath already begun."

"The loyalty of Umbar art assured. No not keep thy Master waiting."

And one of many Mouths strode away, before he rode with haste beneath a hot sun.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXLXXX: Lover of Wealth

Morchon returned home in the early afternoon, removing his dusty shoes, and began his return quietly to his chamber. His parents were away on business. He pressed slowly up the marble steps.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Borneth sat in her fiery red silk dress and cape, staring at the others, "I heard the door shut down below."

Celairhel smiled in her brilliance, folding her arms in her blue velvet cloak, "Yes, he's coming. Are we prepared?"

Galdis laughed, in her glittering white gown, "Yes. Quickly!"

Duvaissel smirked in her dark beauty, "Come, hide quick!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Morchon had wandered thoughtfully since parting from the House of Malnoron, half swooning in the memory of his vision. He entered his room to find his place of rest prepared for him, covered in silks. He saw his golden silky cloak nearby and dawned it, as he reclined in his place of rest.

Various silken folds around him slowly began to rise. Apparitions of golden silk surrounded him. They unveiled their faces. He rose, the cloak clasped to his shoulders, as they all processed quietly through the room, as they unfolded his cloak behind him. He turned, deeply smiling as he swooned. He noted, "I cannot decide...."

"There is still time," Duvaissel smiled. "Come, beloved sisters..... let us spread his gold!"

They unfurled his cloak vast and wide, as Morchon's pride soared. They were soon surrounding his body beneath his cloak, resting their heads against his robe. His cloak spread widely, and their cloaks did equally so, as they all swooned in his presence. Their desires motivated them. They all loved him and found him beautiful, and they all began to spin with him in his mirth, holding-on tightly to the cloak that twirled around him.

And Duvaissel declared, "Hail to Morchon! Son of Merchants!"

As Galdis declared, "Hail to Morchon! Child of Wealth!"

As Celairhel declared, "Hail to Morchon! King who shall be!"

Their dancing reached the balcony.

And Borneth declared, "Hail to Morchon, husband of MINE!"

She tripped Galdis, who plunged into the darkening depths beneath the Sirith. She never resurfaced.

Celairhel shouted in anger, "Murderess, traitor to our cause!" Morchon fell backward, impotent, and stunned. He tried to crawl toward his chamber, but they were rolling on his cloak and he could not undo the clasp. He tried several times. Celairhel managed to scrap Borneth's skin with her finger-nails, cutting into her cheek as deeply as she could scratch. Borneth tripped her into the river.

The four girls had truly hated and fought each other often. When they were little girls, their parents had to separate them constantly. They fought each other with a passion, for they had learned that the others would one day compete for suitors.

Duvaissel had not been idle. She had tried to pull Borneth away from the others to no avail, careful not to tumble to her death herself. But she clawed and grabbed at Borneth now, as they both grappled each other over the balcony, taking a vast fold of Morchon's cloak with them. Morchon gagged as the world grew faster and shorter as he chocked, and Borneth jealously kept grabbing at the fold. They all tumbled into the river. The last sight was that of Morchon's lifeless face sinking into the shadows of the watery abyss. His face was soon covered beneath the gold that sank.

When fishermen reported the bodies to the Guard in the late-evening of the 19th, Morchon's parents realized that their line was doomed, for their only son was dead. Their climb back from poverty had been for naught. Darkness and despair seized their hearts as they laced their wine and drank.
Edited by Ivordir, Oct 1 2015, 11:34 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXLXXXI: A Deeper Peace

Rirossel dreamed of several horsemen standing upon a hill, mounted silhouettes against the sunrise, their cloaks waving behind them in the winds. She dreamed that the skies grew dark and terrible. She felt familiar arms, consoling her tenderly.

She awoke to find herself wrapped warmly in his cloak. He sat beside her patiently. They were soon embracing and weeping and deeply kissing, resting in each others' arms beneath the cloak.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Ivordir

Chapter CCXLXXXII: The Offering

Malnoron had taken custody of the bodies of Morchon and his family. The lovers' families had taken-back their daughters' corpses, mournfully having them buried at sea.

But Morchon's corpse was wrapped in his finest silk. And they processed him before the altar at Midnight. They lit the pyre while the rest bowed their heads in silence, as Gurthbainor offered him to Morgoth.

Isenadin stared into the flames and how the silk withered. He felt Daechir's comforting arm.

When it was done, Gurthbainor turned to Isenadin, "You shall bear the artifact to the vaults to the sound of wings, in addition to thy other task. Take heed."

Isenadin dreadfully nodded.

The remnants of the black fluid in Morchon's body burst forth into a shared vision that subdued the flames. Morchon stood with three women at his side. The vision was faint and ethereal, and one could barely see it, lest one gazed at it attentively. It vanished in the flames. He had been embracing them within his cloak of gold. The gold disintegrated into the flames.

Edited by Ivordir, Oct 1 2015, 11:35 PM.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Join the millions that use us for their forum communities. Create your own forum today.
Learn More · Register for Free
Go to Next Page
« Previous Topic · Wind-Singers · Next Topic »
Add Reply

banner_468_6