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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 (4,118 Views) | |
| Ivordir | Nov 1 2015, 07:50 AM Post #421 |
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Chapter CCCVII: The Scourge of Gondor Ballithor remembered Sainon's first remarks. Sainon smiled, "What shall be our first attempt to drive these foes from our shores?" Ballithor nodded, "First, we must get our men in order. After all, we cannot fight a war with boisterously arrogant men, who seek to know far more than they should. Is that not right, Sainon?" The words burned in Sainion's throat, "It is so, my Lord." "Good. Maybe your son will have also become a full man by the time he returns from his mission. If he returns...." "My lord Ballithor, there is no need for further threats." "Good, Sainon. How many men have you brought?" "Twenty." "Twenty. A meagre contribution. Maybe I should have had your son hanged..."' "No, my lord! I could not gather enough willing men." "Then you should have forced them, willingness or not. We are not cowards. We are lords." "We are not tyrants!" "Say another word, and I will have you removed from our chambers. Does any one else wish to speak?" The room was as silent as death. Ballithor's cold eyes glanced frigidly from side to side. Then he continued, "To rule with strength is necessary. Now, what are the current reports of our Enemy's position?" Another noble named Echon raised his hand, "My lord, the Enemy has burned and ravaged most of the coast, as our fleet is being repaired at the wharf due to their little skirmish. They have burned every village and town from Dol Amroth to our current position. They are continuing to ravage and pillage as they sail, just to the south of us." "And what of the other commanders?" "Their forces are dividing to varying degrees. Some make for Linhir while others seek to reinforce Mechrast to the south and Toldil to the southeast. Some have reinforced Endil to our direct south. Their movements are sound. Five hundred men to Linhir, another five hundred to Toldil, two hundred to Mechrast, and three hundred to Endil near our position. There are further movements in the heart of the peninsula itself. There are thousands in reserve." "Why does our Prince not unleash the full force of his men on them?"' "There are rumors gathering to the East, that the Corsairs are but a diversion to a far larger Host. The rangers are watchful and we fear that something may be stirring in Mordor itself. Our Prince, in all respect, likely anticipates the Beacons." "Very well. We will make do with the forces we possess. How large is the fleet?" "Fifty ships, maybe sixty, if not a hundred at the most?" "My Lord," another named Glamron raised his hand, echoing his sentiments, "Reports have come of another fleet sighted by scouts nigh Harondor. We think it makes for Pelargir." "So there is more than one fleet, or one large, cumbersome fleet has divided into several smaller regiments. And where is the fleet nigh Harondor?" "Below the Carnen. It began to turn northwest." "If they turned northwest, why do you suggest Pelargir?" "They may yet sail to join the current fleet, and then all of them could press toward Pelargir at once." "With enough men to spare, enough to ravage the entire coast from Anfalas to Harlond. To Harlond..................... if what you have said is true, they could full well be part of a far larger assault on the White City itself........ it falls to us, men. It falls to us to crush this first fleet as soon as possible." "But do we have enough men, my Lord?" "We will be one man shorter in number, if you continue to insult me." Glamron held his tongue. Ballithor concluded, "We will take our four hundred men and reinforce Endil as soon as possible. Dismissed." The wind blew gently through the billowing canopy and flaps of the tent. The wind whistled on the stones nigh the cliffs. And Sainon stood, the wind billowing his robes and velvet cloak, his long hairs, as he stroked his short, raven-black stubble. He prayed to the sea. He prayed to the West. He prayed that he would gaze once more into the glittering eyes of his son, and kiss his warm cheeks, and embrace him in the depths of his paternal love. The light of the Moon was reflected in the crystalline drops, patient, shining orbs, that fell from his eyes onto the brown, weathered, dirty stones that bordered the cliffs. He wished he had never insulted Ballithor. He ceased to blame Ballithor and blamed himself, knowing his complicity in the fate of his son. But he returned to his tent, and shut his weary eyes, resting pleasantly, as the wind blew smoothly and gently through the azure flaps of his tent. Edited by Ivordir, Nov 7 2015, 06:47 PM.
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| Ivordir | Nov 1 2015, 09:21 PM Post #422 |
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Chapter CCCVIII: Nan Harlond Sainion plodded along, alongside Saelbainor. Sainion's thoughts drifted to Aegon. They had continued their writing practices and studies in Tumladen. But Aegon had been trained hard in Tarlang, and Ivordir had need of him in Ithilien. He hoped that Aegon would return alive. Their road had taken them through northern woods, along the road to Arnach, where they spent the night in a manse of one of Lord Brenion's friends. It was the Capital of Lossarnach, filled to the brim with flowers, where Forlong the Fat ruled peacefully. They knew that Malnoron would not dare to lift a finger against them in a realm so close to the power and influence of the Steward himself. And so they continued into Nan Harlond, where they camped on the hillsides above the Anduin. Sainion rested alongside Arhbaineth, within their cloak. Their hearts throbbed harmoniously as they deeply kissed. Arhbaineth smiled, "Beloved..... when do you suppose... that we will finally have peace together?" Sainion sighed, "Whenever this madness is finally over....." Arhbaineth smirked, "Ivordir was ever brave.................if, at times, foolhardy...........oh well. It will all be over soon enough." Sainion laughed, "I wish we could remain hidden hither, beneath this cape forever......." "Let us live for the moment, my love................" Edited by Ivordir, Nov 7 2015, 06:47 PM.
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| Ivordir | Nov 2 2015, 08:24 PM Post #423 |
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Chapter CCCIX: Angolhel Silevren felt the ship cease on its course. He heard the sound of an anchor, followed by the lowering of a wooden causeway to the shore. They were on the shores of Ithilien. Lerion hushed him, bidding him to follow, with a strange smirk on his face. The others followed. They gathered in a circle in the woods, as they heard the sound of approaching drums. They found themselves surrounded by several more Haradrim, of Lerion's tribe. And then, standing on a tall boulder, they beheld a woman. Her eyes glittered as the stars. She was pale of skin. Her raiment was of a sparkling silver, laden with precious jewels, and lined with silk. She seemed an elleth from mythic dreams. And she outspread her wings, in the manner of Lerion, for her cloak, too, was long and vast. And her hair was long and vast, reminiscent of that of Luthien of old, or of Galadriel of the Golden Wood. It was golden-brown, silky, vast and beautiful, pouring down her back as if yet another vast cloak, issuing from the crown that was her head. Lerion approached her, kissing her hand, "My love..." "Beloved....." Her voice was fair and beautiful. Silevren bowed, but the woman uplifted his chin, "No, my Lord....... you do not bow to me, but I, to you........." Silevren turned to Lerion, "You never told me that you were in love, my Lord Sorcerer.........." Lerion smiled, "We are betrothed to each other. And she is strong in my tribe." Silevren paused, confused, "But she does not appear Haradric......" The woman laughed mockingly, "My Lord, allow me to explain........ for there are many women of darker skin within our tribe, all of whom have taken illustrious husbands...... but for myself. My mother was among the darkest of women......... but my father was of Gondor. He had held-out at an outpost on its borders, alone, and when my tribesmen prepared to kill him, my mother intervened. She lured him out, teaching him our ways......... teaching him of the treachery of Gondor and how they abandoned him, how they cared not for him, not for whether he lived or died......... and so he abandoned them. Thus was I born........ and my father still lives." Lerion nodded, "And he assisted with Lord Malnoron's trading with Umbar, before Lord Malnoron betrayed us." She nodded in confirmation, "Precisely. For my mother was our tribe's greatest Sorceress........... thus am I named Angolhel, Saphastra in the tongue of our tribe." Silevren tenderly kissed her hand, "And how did you evade the rangers?" One of the tribesmen grinned eagerly, holding a tuft of bloody ranger mouth-masks aloft in his left-hand. Angolhel laughed, "And we have word that another party of those scoundrels has crossed the river! And they are making north! My men shall search them out. We shall have enough difficulty sneaking through Harlond as it is." Silevren nodded, "And what of our sailors?" Lerion smirked, "You know to clothe them, that they may aid us...." Angolhel shook her head, "No, my love...... it would prove far too risky. Let us proceed with as few as possible." Silevren closed his eyes, "But we shall need reinforcement!" Angolhel laughed, "No, my Lord...... in all due respect, my sovereign......... you shall not. For I have found that a small number of unsuspected persons can cause far greater harm than an entire legion!" Silevren nodded, "You would have made a fine Queen........." Angolhel smirked wider, "I am..... a Queen..... in the realm from which I hail." Silevren bent his knee, "Your Majesty......" Angolhel laughed again, "Oh stand-up, your Highness...... I know who you truly are. Lerion told me through his birds' messages." Her face turned solemn once more, "For you shall do much good for all our peoples............you shall end the Ages-old conflict between us.........." Silevren sighed, "Do you really believe so?" Angolhel smiled, "I know so.... my King...... shall we get back aboard before the next party of vermin arrive to shoot at us?" Silevren became suddenly afraid, "Yes, with haste!" And so they returned to the vessel once more, while the Haradrim hunters departed, Angolhel's orders engraved within their hearts. Edited by Ivordir, May 3 2016, 07:25 PM.
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| Ivordir | Nov 2 2015, 11:53 PM Post #424 |
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Chapter CCCX: The Sorceress' Magic Angolhel stood in the center of the chamber in the hull. She was gleaming brightly in her radiance. She whisked her vast cloak around with as much dexterity and precision as her betrothed. She fanned and billowed it vast around her, keeping her arms outspread beneath her folds. And then she proclaimed, "My King...... allow me to present unto you.... my dear apprentice......Alagossel!" And Angolhel cast back her cloak, revealing a young woman, who was darker in hue, though still lighter in color, as if she were counted among the tanned Avari of the East, or Teleri beneath the hot sun upon the sea. Her hair was similarly long to that of Angolhel. Her own fiery cloak was magnificent. And when Silevren saw her kneeling before Angolhel in the center of the room, he felt his heart throbbing, as Lerion watched him with a sly grin. Alagossel bowed low, "My King... if I may approach. I...I have heard much of you.... and......" Lerion whispered, "I believe that she is in love with you, your Grace." Silevren smiled, unable to conceal his true feelings, "I do believe that I would call this..... the first glance......revealing truer love. Come, and sit by my side......" "Yes, go to him....." Angolhel whispered in her ear. Alagossel suddenly ran forward, kissing Silevren deeply. Silevren was struck with shock at first. His heart throbbed ecstatically as he surrendered himself unto her power. He warmly embraced her, as she sat beside him on an adjacent chair, beneath his folds. And the chamber erupted in applause. Silevren raised his hand to quiet them, "This is all sudden, and glorious, my friends.......for the Queen of my dreams has come to me.......and I...I shall love her......as mine own flesh and blood. For our Lord has truly gazed with favor upon us all....... and we owe Him a sacrifice. We shall catch the False-King Amarthon and bow his blood before our Master!" They all applauded and then retired to their chambers on the ship. Angolhel slithered away with Lerion. And Alagossel remained by the side of her betrothed, silently threading the web that she and her Master had begun to weave. Edited by Ivordir, Nov 7 2015, 06:48 PM.
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| Ivordir | Nov 4 2015, 12:29 AM Post #425 |
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Chapter CCCXI: In Haradrim Deserts "No, no! You're doing it wrong! Here!" Young Angolhel shouted as she clutched her serpentine staff. Alagossel struggled to maintain her balance. She was balancing on a beam in one of the tents, clutching her staff. "Focus!" Angolhel commanded. "And close your eyes." Alagossel obeyed, outstretching her arms and left-leg, balancing her staff sideways in her hand, concentrating as she began to sweat, her right-leg quivering as she struggled to maintain her balance. Her head-band was drenched with sweat. And the sun beat down hot on the roof of the tent. The air was stuffy. A vast, lengthy shadow approached the tent, the shadow of fabric coiling as if a Black Serpent. Lerion nearly collapsed into the room. Angolhel gasped, "My Lord Salagostri! What has happened!" Lerion fell into her arms, "Our Lord Sorcerer..... my father............." He was already weeping bitterly. Angolhel and Alagossel brought him over to their place of rest in a corner of the tent. They propped him against the pillows, while all the while he shed ever-deepening tears. Alagossel grabbed a cloth and dried herself. She re-clad herself in her ravishing cloak. Then she cuddled next to Lerion, as he wept on her shoulder. He could not cease from weeping. He turned to Angolhel, plunging into her deep embrace, as she kissed him, maintaining their longest kiss as he wept. And Lerion's bitter grief became bitter wrath, as he turned in refuge to his pride. He suddenly arose. Many had gathered in the space nigh the Sorcerer's Tent. Angolhel and Alagossel came forth, and Lerion in between them, as they upheld and outstretched the folds of his vast cloak, as the entire tribe, men, women, and children, all bowed before him. Angolhel remembered all of this as she slipped within Lerion's chamber in the hull of the ship, sailing toward Harlond. Edited by Ivordir, Nov 7 2015, 06:48 PM.
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| Ivordir | Nov 4 2015, 12:37 AM Post #426 |
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Chapter CCCXII: The Sorceress' Beauty Angolhel closed the door behind her. She turned to gaze at her betrothed. Lerion had outstretched the wings of his cloak, glittering as his folds fell to the floor from beneath his arms. She spoke, "I have missed you, my love..........my Lord Sorcerer....." "My Queen Sorceress.....................Princess of the Haradwaith.... Queen of my heart, of every fiber of my being.......' Angolhel ran into his embrace. She laughed and smirked, "Today, my love...... let us slither beneath my cloak..... my Temple......" Lerion nodded. Angolhel released herself from his embrace, as she uplifted her arms, as he reclined on his bed on the floor. Angolhel's cloak was glittering with jewels, "Now you shall contend with me, my beauty......" She swooped down upon him, enveloping him completely, as he buried his face within her silky hair. They held each other closely, tight together. Their hearts throbbed wildly in their lengthy kiss. And as they kissed, Angolhel continued to recall the past. Edited by Ivordir, May 3 2016, 07:26 PM.
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| Ivordir | Nov 4 2015, 01:08 AM Post #427 |
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Chapter CCCXIII: The Golden Serpent It was nightfall in the tent beneath strange stars, months prior to Lerion's initial departure for Pelargir. And the moon was bright, shining through an opening in the center of the tent. There was not a single cloud in the nightly sky. Angolhel spun in her nightly dance, her moonlit silky hair flickering, shining as she twirled her long, wide silks that billowed to the floor around her. She was wearing a cloak similar to that of Lerion: dark purple lined with bloody, flaming red. And Alagossel watched her. Alagossel was clad in her fiery orange silks, vast and training on the tent-floor, awaiting instruction as she gazed dreamily at her Master Sorceress. Angolhel banged her head, in the manner of her tribal dance, her long, golden-brown tresses flying around her. She flipped her hair to and fro in repetition. And slowly, as she danced, she began to speak: "My beauteous apprentice.............take heed and listen." Alagossel nodded. "Our jewels were mined from distant mountains.......far to the East, traded to our people, who had tamed the mighty Oliphaunts of the jungles, farther to the South.......the great Ketsati.........where worms of silk did weave their beauteous nests........be not ashamed to wear this sacred garb, love......" Alagossel outstretched her arms, bowing before her Master, "I am not ashamed, my Queen of Beauty.......our silks are gifts from Mother Goddess.........we outgrow our hair as long as possible, in Her honor........" Angolhel smirked, "Yes, my dearest love......and can you recall what form she takes?" "A Serpent..... a Golden Serpent..........to coil and unify with the Black Serpent, our god Melkor........as we are lead by the Eye of our god, Annatar........." "Yes, my dear love......for we have many sorceries, gifts, from which to decide to use.......we can bewitch others through our voices, our beauty, our balance..... our dreams.......these are powers.....through which we shall prevail. Do you know our secret?" Alagossel shook her head. Angolhel paused, outspreading her arms, her cape glittering in the moonlight: "The more we flaunt our beauty, the more we honor the Goddess with our beauty. The more it shall become -Her- beauty. And when one becomes most beautiful, attaining its highest quality, She is transfigured within that person, overlapping. Only a Sorceress of the Serpent can do this. And whenever you see a Golden Serpent in the sun-drenched desert sands, you have seen Her: our Mother, our Sister, and our Guide. Shall we try, love? Shall we dance for Her? Shall we dance with Her? Shall we become Her?" Alagossel nodded, taking her position, as they both lowered their arms, which had begun to ache them. They raised their arms again, despite their aches. Angolhel professed: "Oh Spirit of Deepest, Most Precious Beauty, come unto we, unworthy, servants in the desert sands. Slither around us, oh Golden Serpent, binding us as one, together. Make us fair, more fair than any. Empower us, oh Most Precious Goddess, and conceal us in Thy Most Precious, Golden Hair, that we may become Thy Deepest, Most Precious Beauty." And the moonlight then seemed stronger, as they began to dance, twirling as they beamed, gleaming. Their folds and hair rushed into each other. They became dizzy in their ecstasy. Alagossel nearly tripped and fell, but she maintained her balance. Oh Golden Goddess.... my Sister....come unto me, my Ecstasy..... They banged and flipped their shiny, silky hair, the weight of their vast drapes surging around them. In sequence, they gradually slowed their movements, until they outspread their silken folds again. And Angolhel proclaimed: "I feel You! It has been done!" Alagossel gazed at her in awe. And Alagossel's devotion and reverence surged a hundred fold. And Power was her greatest longing. She felt fairer, more powerful, more beautiful. And Angolhel enclosed her cloak around Alagossel, sparkling as if a powerful Queen within the moonlight. Alagossel bowed her head as the luminous folds enclosed over her head and around her. She buried her face in Angolhel's fair-scented tresses. She felt her chin uplift, as Angolhel's sweetly-scented breath filled her lungs. She heard Angolhel whisper, "Receive the Kiss of the Goddess..... the Golden Serpent, Queen of all the Stars....." This particular Haradric tribe did not know that Varda, Elbereth Gilthoniel, was never wed to Melkor, and that she, in fact, serve One even higher than herself. Alagossel's warm, wet lips, consented to the Rite, in reverence and devotion. The Kiss seemed to last for an eternity. When Alagossel emerged from the folds, Angolhel smiled, "Come.... let us rest together, my beautiful apprentice......." They processed to a place of rest within the tent, and Alagossel cuddled, snuggling, against Angolhel's robes beneath her cloak, their faces resting alongside each other. They would brush each others' hair in the morning, anointing and stroking it with precious oils. And then, in late-morning, they came before their tribe, as Alagossel was anointed as a Sorceress. Their servants grasped their silken cloaks: Alagossel stood triumphantly with Lerion at her left and Angolhel at her right. Together, their cloaks flapping and glimmering in the sunlight, they seemed as if Stars of the Desert, gleaming brightly, as their tribe all knelt before them in their devotion. And now, on the ship upon the Anduin, Angolhel had returned to her Lerion at last, as Golden and Black Serpents coiled around each other in their embrace, unified within their kiss, shining deeply in their capes of silk. Edited by Ivordir, Nov 7 2015, 06:48 PM.
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| Ivordir | Nov 4 2015, 11:05 PM Post #428 |
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Chapter CCCXIV: A Gondorian Tribe Hours later, Lerion agreed to his betrothed's next plan: to ensure that no further treachery would occur. Aurion was balking in the hull-chamber, "And what will -we- do when we finally -reach- Minas Tirith?" Melimon sighed, "Our King will...." "Will what? Any suggestions?" Farion bade for calm, "My brothers, let us not arg-" Annun stammered, "We are all going to die......" Astar smirked, "I do not believe so...." Annun retorted, "You never 'believe so'....." And the Twilight Brothers maintained their silence. They saw a dark silhouette approach them from the shadows of the short hallway nigh the chamber, "Disgrace! That is what you are! Have you no faith or trust in your King, who fed and clothed you so richly?" And they beheld Angolhel in all her beauty, her near-black, dark purple cloak, lined with fiery red, flowing onto the floor around her, streaming beneath her cape of golden-brown tresses, rising to the crown of her head. She declared, "Tinnuchon.... Uialchon.....come and assist me within these Rites." They nodded, silently approaching her. Tinnuchon vanished first within her folds, receiving the Kiss of Power, as Uialchon then received the Kiss of Knowledge. They followed her instructions, carefully, upholding the side-edges of her cloak. They vibrated the folds, waves of fiery-red silk glimmering and flickering with light. The others had naturally fallen to their knees before her, their hearts pounding as if Haradric drums. They gazed into the infinite appearance of her folds. And then she performed her Rite on them, one by one, devoting them entirely, their hearts pulsing with the rhythm of the beat. Once she was satisfied with their devotion, she performed her traditional dance, and then processed back to rejoin Lerion. She wondered what became of Alagossel and Silevren. Edited by Ivordir, Nov 7 2015, 06:49 PM.
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| Ivordir | Nov 4 2015, 11:18 PM Post #429 |
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Chapter CCCXV: Daughter of the Stars Silevren had begun speaking as they had entered into his chamber, "I, Ar-Pharazon...." But he turned to see Alagossel with her cape outstretched, glimmering in the sunlight. Silevren was struck with silence as he gazed into her mesmerizing eyes. She spoke softly and gently, "I am thy Sorceress, my love.........my Lord.... my Highest King........." And Silevren fell to his knees, his knees crushing his golden silk, as his clean-shaven face was smiling, his elf-like hair streaming down his shoulders and back, as he proclaimed: "My Desert Star.......my Guiding Light.......my Highest Queen..........." He was smitten, a boyish expression on his face. He gazed at her, as she had planned with her sharp, keen intellect. She brushed his face with the folds of her cloak. She proclaimed, "Behold my magic....." Edited by Ivordir, Nov 7 2015, 06:49 PM.
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| Ivordir | Nov 5 2015, 05:37 AM Post #430 |
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Chapter CCCXVI: Serpents Intertwined When they had first reunited, Angolhel and Lerion had largely ignored their situation, for they had not seen each other for months. But now, when Angolhel returned to their chamber, she found him brooding in the corner. He did not turn, "Well?" "None of them are traitors or treacherous, my beloved. I probed them with the Rite." Then Lerion turned, "Very good........." He smirked. Angolhel raised her hand, as if she could read his thoughts, "No......for far too oft, you have sought to protect me..........but now, from this day forward, I shall protect you.........." Lerion gazed at her refulgent tresses, pouring down her back and shoulders. Then she upheld her folds aloft, dark-purple silk peering beneath gleaming, brown hair that shined as if a golden blond in the sunlight. Lerion ran to her, burying his face in her hair, as she enclosed her folds around him. Her voice was shrewd and gentle, "My Prince...... have I not told you not to fear?" "The City of my Wicked Mother approaches..... she who attempted to end my life before my birth. I shalt destroy them!" "Calm down, my beloved...let us pursue from lesser, yet greater goal, a goal that shall not likely result in our destruction........for you know how this tale normally should end. Stormy skies, cloaks and capes torn and shorn, whipping in violent winds, as the so-called brave 'Gondorian heroes' draw their swords, trapping us upon the precipice, as with one last gasp, we attempt to flaunt our power. Perhaps the Dwarf-sized young man, or another akin to him, lights our cloaks aflame, having sneaked behind us with his torch! And how we scream at the top of our lungs as we burn to death. We must leap off the cliff or be struck by lightning in such a spectacle. And then we die, with naught but the ravens, crows, and vultures, to feast upon our charred remains." Lerion nodded, "You have considered this well........" Angolhel nodded, "Moreover, King Ar-Pharazon is beheaded for imprisoned forever, along with my apprentice, and they might strangle themselves to death, caught within their cells..........and the others have been slain in combat, or lured to the other side in treachery.............and even if our god, Sauron, victored, along with our blessed Goddess..... none of us would dare survive or victor with them. Do you not yet perceive the problem?" Lerion's eyes grew wide, "It is certainly realistic..........Have you foreseen our complete defeat?" Angolhel smirked, "Only if we remain as we are..........come that I may show thee......... attending a tale that none could dare foresee......for we may yet have stormy skies and whipping, violent winds.......but not defeat, ......trust in my power................" Her warm, sweet breath filled his lungs. And then they held the longest, deepest kiss, that they had ever held, their hearts throbbing faster and more deeply than any gust of wind. They danced in their mirthful ecstasy. They kissed each other in a deepening multiplicity on their cheeks, frantically. And then he knew, that if they had been dreaming, she would have transformed herself into a golden drake or a Golden Serpent, powerful and beautiful to behold. And then they rested alongside each other, enclosed deeply in each others' folds, tightly in each others' arms. They deeply kissed each other anew, beneath the folds. And she controlled him, manipulating him to her design. Edited by Ivordir, May 3 2016, 07:31 PM.
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| Ivordir | Nov 5 2015, 03:31 PM Post #431 |
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Chapter CCCXVII: Queen of Numenor Silevren rested, cocooned with Alagossel in her fiery cloak. She gently stroked his hair as he closed his eyes. He heard her voice: "My beauty.......listen to my voice so fair And hear the powers that I shalt attend In heights of purest, tallest majesty. A Golden Bat now flies from her deep lair, Unto the stars, shall we now then ascend In heights of vastness, widest beauty. Here, in the depths of purest, deepest dream, A river flows like silk into its seam Waters gathering, flowing, as they teem. My King, unto these caves of ever-night, I grant, to thee, a greater, brighter sight." He felt her warm breath pass into his lungs. He felt her kiss. His eyes opened as he found himself staring into her crystalline, beaming eyes. He found her smiling. And she, too, now controlled her betrothed, as gently and flawlessly laid Silevren low, softening his heart, as the Tower of Ar-Pharazon in Umbar had been knocked-down by the Haradrim in rebellion. Now, the roles had been reversed. It was March 1st. Edited by Ivordir, May 3 2016, 07:32 PM.
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| Ivordir | Nov 5 2015, 11:27 PM Post #432 |
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Chapter CCCXVIII: Master and Apprentice In the late-evening, as the sun began to set, as their vessel was now parallel to Arnach, Silevren was now resting with Lerion. And the others were still at rest. And Angolhel sat alone on Silevren's chair in the midst of the hull-chamber. Alagossel ran and knelt before her, "My Master.... you were right.... he is so beautiful......" Angolhel nodded, "And pliable?" Alagossel nodded, "Yes......I love him truly." "Good, my future Queen. Now, shall we perform the Rite, our fates to thus attend?" "Yes, my Master!" Alagossel's mirth suddenly fell when Angolhel whispered something in her right-ear. Edited by Ivordir, May 3 2016, 07:33 PM.
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| Ivordir | Nov 7 2015, 06:12 PM Post #433 |
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Chapter CCCXIX: Of Queens and Kings Silevren had returned to his room, refreshed and empowered by his dreams with Lerion. They were quite similar to the previous ones. But they had not seen the -mirage- of Amanuiron, and when they did behold that mirage, it was as fictitious as their transfigurations into bat and snake. Little did they know the true nature of the bile: for each dream led them further down their paths to madness that slowly sloped, solemnly into cliffs before an eternal plunge into an endless abyss, tumbling and falling forever and ever unto the Void, the Black Hand of Morgoth ever-reaching to grasp at cape and wing. Foulness lurked beneath their fairness. They did not know the true nature of truer gold. And Lerion had danced for him, more beautifully and brightly and brilliantly than ever before. Vast folds had whipped above Silevren's head. Silevren sat in his room alone, staring at the door when Alagossel opened it. He stared upward at her from the edge of his bed. She outspread her cape's vast wings, a solemn expression on her face, a slight hint of reluctance in her voice: "Greetings unto thee, my beauty!" "My love!" Silevren mirthfully explained. Alagossel lightly laughed, then spoke in a hissing, half-whispering voice: "I have a secret for thee...........do me a favor......." Silevren nodded, staring. Her face appeared stiff and toughened, a worried glance within her eyes. Silevren caught the glance, "What is the matter?" She dropped her arms, her cloak plunging into discordant heaps on the floor. She stared him down, "You are not Ar-Pharazon." Silevren's eyes glared, "Repeat thyself again!" She stepped backward toward the door, coldly, "You are not Ar-Pharazon." She turned to run, but he grabbed her cloak. It was attached at her shoulders. She was violently thrown against the bed. He grasped at her folds, pulling her upward, "I...... am Ar-Pharazon incarnate..... King of Numenor of old...... and Master of the World......... you lie to me...... you lie...... you filthy Southron witch!" Her eyes were glistening with tears, "Listen....... please........." He wanted to throw her in the river. He girded himself, for she was beautiful. She stammered, "Angolhel whispered this to me.............. I......it came not to me, I..........." Silevren's anger flew from his shoulders as he knelt down in shock, "Forgive me, I..... ah ha....... ah ha..... so it was she who whispered such a terrible, awful lie within thine ears! Thy Master hath betrayed thee!" "Let me explain...............but you have harmed me, my beloved. Difficult shall it be for thee to regain my life." She stood at a terrible height, anger mounting within her. She slapped him across the face, "I am not thine to drag and shove around. For I have powers of mine own. I remain a Sorceress! Thou art a Gondorian..... nothing more, and nothing less....... and you have harmed me....." "No, we were both harmed, thy Master, she..." Alagossel slapped him even harder, pushing him onto the floor, "Speak not ill of her! For he heard it from one of our greatest seers, among the wisest women in all the South!" Silevren stood madly in his rage, "I am going to toss that savage into the river!" Alagossel slapped him hard again, "I blame not thee for this behavior...... but the powers that hath ensnared thee, and my Master's brother........." She pulled forth one of the phials and held it aloft, "This bile is poison.......... a foul destruction of thyself, of thy spirit, within thy body......... it came from a false magician, a player of tricks...... I overheard Lerion discuss his dreams..... fanciful they are, unreal! Foul and debased............. they are not of this world. They belong not in this world. They are deceptions. My tribe has been misled. My Master sent the most unrepentant of them to their deaths. Only those who oppose the Enemy shall now live. The Lord of Mordor is not beautiful! Nor is he fair. He is false, and a liar! He is ugly and grotesque! But truly beauty is not within these folds," she held a tuft of silk aloft, "But within our hearts. These folds are beautiful, but our hearts are even more so. These folds must serve the inner beauty of our hearts.......... listen to me! You are Silevren. And I love you! I truly do........ but I love not the false Ar-Pharazon that hath been born in you." Silevren squirmed, as if a rat caught in a trap with no escape. Alagossel did not relent as she battered the gates of his inner spirit, "I love not the lie the bile hath bestowed within you." Silevren felt a burning feeling in his stomach, as he began to moan, the excruciating pain rising within himself. Alagossel mounted the assault once more, "I love not the false King, who hath beat and harmed his Queen. Silevren.......... you are better than he...... I beg of thee. This is thy final chance." Silevren nodded, cradling his stomach. Alagossel lifted his cloak from his shoulders, shedding her own. They walked across the folds, departing from the chamber. They came to the stairs and ascended them. The night crewmen were away, watching the stairs from the bow of the ship. The stern was empty, save for one dark silhouette set against the starlight. Great winds shifted the nightly form that stood before them. A voice hissed from that terrible silhouette, "So thou hast come, apprentice of mine betrothed......... and thou hast brought our King with me....." "Stop feeding his lies, Lerion!" "Why dost thou cradle thy stomach, my King of beauty.... Ar-Pharazon? Lord Amanuiron warned me of thus.... deeply within my dreams....apart from thee..................." He outspread his cloak in mockery, daggers flashing in his hands, "Black Serpent am I...........and thou shalt be...... unto my venom, shalt thou receive.........!" He darted towards them, his cloak slithering and flying behind him. Silevren stumbled to the edge of the deck, holding onto the railing, clenching his teeth from the pain. Lerion was not adept at combat. He was slow and clumsy with his daggers. Alagossel remembered the lessons of balance that Angolhel had taught her. She remained as agile as a cat, as swift as a desert viper, as slippery as a bat. She ran around him in circles. They did not see the other silhouette appear, an apparition of hair and fabric billowing in the nightly breeze, as if some mighty spirit in the shadows. Others had gathered there as well, forbidden to interfere. One by one, they had been instructed to pray for atonement. One by one, in excruciating agony, they spewed out the bile into wooden buckets. Only one remained to be filled. There was a pungent, putrid scent on the air. Tinnuchon and Uialchon grabbed Silevren by the shoulders, dredging him over to the unfilled bucket. He was screaming now, as they lowered his head gently into the bucket that they had set on a table. Lerion still clutched the corners of his cape in his hands with his daggers. He sought to ensnare her serpentine. And now.........................................my Mother Gondor..................................................shalt I thence taketh my final revenge................................ And in his darkened mind, he felt as if he had become the Black Serpent of his dreams. He fought in the name of his most recent, darkest dream. Edited by Ivordir, May 3 2016, 07:34 PM.
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| Ivordir | Nov 7 2015, 06:41 PM Post #434 |
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Chapter CCCXX: Fated On the prior night, after Silevren had parted, Lerion was held by Amanuiron, the phantom of his mind, spawned from the bile that surged within him. Amanuiron had prostrated himself on Silevren's throne, his golden silk had flowed as if liquid, gathering in pools where it had draped down and around his body. He had commanded Lerion to transform himself. And Lerion gazed as Amanuiron's cloak then seemed to sift in color, iridescently and vibrantly, as Lerion stared at him entranced, mystified by the spectrum. And Lerion smirked and bowed, "It shall be as you command, my Lord......." And Lerion had outspread his cape aloft. And Lerion had outstretched his arms so wide. And Lerion's folds draped unto the floor, far beneath his feet, as he levitated upward, his cloak spread far and wide. It glimmered and gleamed, it shimmered as it shined so bright, golden-fiery-red, as if he were the opposite of night. The rear-window of the Citadel became as if a mirror. And Lerion stared away from Amanuiron, gazing into his own image in the windows, and as Lerion gazed, he felt something terrible grow within him. He gazed back down at Amanuiron, who glared at him, menacingly. There was a flash of light. Lerion attempted to avoid the gnawing feeling. He slithered into Amanuiron's refulgent folds, ruby-red tunnels of silk, slithering around, until his head appeared above the surface. Amanuiron's eyes were no longer menacing. Lerion placed the feeling far away from his mind. He suddenly found himself standing upright. He was standing on a cold, marble hallway, in a courtyard of stone. Starlight and moonlight remained visible, but a dark cloud gathered over the land of Mordor to the East. There were torches. He beckoned to Silevren. They slipped beneath the archway of the ship's bow of stone, and wandered for nearly a quarter of an hour, until they reached the entrance to the Archives. And they crept down into the depths, the Twilight Brothers flanking Silevren, upholding his cape, as they did in the Library of Pelargir. And they crept down into the shadows. "Quick!" Lerion hissed. They reached the portion of the Library where the "lies concerning the Fall of Numenor" were written. There was movement in the shadows. The Haradrim defenders found themselves in combat with none other than Ivordir, Daerfalas, and Mithon, with a host of rangers and other men. Aurion and Melimon, meanwhile, had crept into the Cisterns, and were now returning. The bile had been set into the central canal. Farion fired at Mithon's men with his bow, shooting down several of them. Astaron and Annun retaliated as well. The stone-floor was drenched with blood. The Sorceresses were with Silevren and the others. Sainion came at Silevren from the shadows, but Tinnuchon grappled with him, strangling Sainion to death. Arhbaineth gave chase after Angolhel. Glossel struck at Alagossel. The ladies were clawing at each other with their finger-nails, attempting to rip each other apart, trying to trip and strangle each other with their capes. The men were engaged in traditional warfare. Silevren and the others overpowered their foes and slipped through a hidden door, escaping providentially to a hidden passageway, leading up to the street nigh the manor of Ioristor. The combat shifted within the House of Ioristor. Lerion slew him with a dagger, Ivordir and Daerfalas crying aloud, and chaos erupted. Lerion tossed Isenadin off the roof-top and set Daechir aflame, as Daechir screamed and burned to death, while the others fought in terror and horror. Alagossel turned to see a lump of her silk begin to move. A hand reached and grasped a torch. Alagossel tried to stomp on her flaming cloak, but it was of no use, and nor could she detach it from her shoulders. She twirled and screamed and screech at the top of her lungs, a spout of flame in the center of the room. Angolhel cried aloud and grappled with Arhbaineth. They grappled each other to the brink, and fell off the balcony, screaming as they clawed at each other before their corpses shattered on the rooftops far below. Lerion screamed and ran to the balcony. He saw Ivordir impale Silevren on his sword. Lerion declared aloud, outspreading his cloak, "And now, thou shalt contend with my power!" He turned to see Fingaereth, smirking. The torch fell on the excessive folds of his cloak. And Lerion ran from the doors, as fast as his legs could carry him, reaching the Court of the White Tree, swishing his cloak nigh it, setting it aflame. And as he screamed, his blood curdling within him, as he cried, "And now thou shalt DIE MOTHER GONDOR!" And he ran to the nearest ledge, as if a phoenix in its death-dive, as the world spun around him as he fell in excruciating pain. Then all went dark. He heard the voice of Guldrambor declare: "And this shalt be thy fate, if treason hath prevailed within thy King!" And then Lerion awoke on the 1st of March. Edited by Ivordir, Nov 7 2015, 07:29 PM.
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| Ivordir | Nov 7 2015, 07:11 PM Post #435 |
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Chapter CCCXXI: Shifting Tides And now Lerion's cloak shifted to and fro as if the tides at sea, his arms lounging forward, as he clumsily attempted to slay Alagossel with his daggers. Alagossel had caught a glimpse of her Master and the others standing near at hand. The same, horrible feeling slowly began to slither through Lerion's spirit. He barked at the top of his lungs in his fiery, unyielding wrath: "Mother Gondor! I shalt destroy thee, as thou hast tried to destroy me!" Angolhel had chanted something quietly. Lerion swept forward with his daggers, but Alagossel balanced herself, exactly as on the beam. And she caught her opening, and ran laps around him, as he tripped and fell forward clumsily, as Alagossel cleared his fall. She was tired and sweaty, scratched in places, but relatively unscathed. Aurion and Melimon swiftly grabbed Lerion by the arms, removing the daggers. They dragged him over to the bucket. Silevren was now recovering in the corner. They had washed-out the interior of his mouth, careful and precise. Not a single remnant of the bile fell anywhere other than within the bucket. Angolhel strode triumphantly, declaring: "My betrothed....... you will hear the words that I shall speak!" And they kept his head bowed low within the bucket, out of reach of the bile. The stench was putrid. Angolhel told him the story: When their tribe had journeyed into the jungles of Saraj, prior to their final migration to Umbar, they had camped at the base of a pyramid-shaped stepped-Temple. And at the Temple's peak, there dwelt a Priestess, a wise old woman, who claimed to commune with the Lord and Master of Dreams. "He comes to me every night!" She had exclaimed. "Come, my fine, young, Sorceresses. Do you not know, there is naught in sorcery?" For the "lesser races," as the haughty Numenorean's of Ar-Pharazon's fell ilk had named them, were deemed to have worshiped many gods, for they knew not the Valar or the Elves. And so it was still said that some among them worshiped a concept of the Valar, whom they had falsely deemed were gods and goddesses. The Sorceresses had worshiped a concept of Varda, and the old Saraji Priestess, found Irmo the Wise, of Lorien. The Valar never communed directly. And nor would they mislead, or intervene. But Irmo's power was special. For the race of men had continued to dream dreams, and behold visions, indirect influences on Lord Irmo's part. If this were not so, then no one would have ever dreamed of everything, the Seat of Seeing on Amon Hen would have lost its power, and other artifacts unknown would have been rendered inept at the passing of the Second Age. The old woman had dreamed of the Seat of Seeing, and she had spoken to the Sorceresses of it, not understanding its location or its meaning. But the old Saraji Priestess, there, on the roof of the grey pyramid, shining bluish-white in the moon and starlight, prophesied that the Sorceresses would meet a man of Gondor, plunging into madness, falsely believing himself to be a King, Ar-Pharazon. She prophesied that one of Lord Sakamundo's, as she named Lord Irmo, servants had gone astray, serving the Enemy in darkness grave and deep, weakened on his own, yet powerful through his domination o'er the minds of others, through those whom he would beguile with false dreams and misleading visions, vanity and pride, false majesty and false beauty, silk and gold and jewels and vain desires for power over all things. She had bidden the Sorceresses to pray to the Queen of Stars and to the Lord of Dreams to defeat the false lies. Angolhel was to not speak of this to her betrothed until the proper time. And each and every word burned with Lerion's soul. He fell submissive. The excruciating pain in his chest made him holler and scream. And finally, when all was said and done, the Haradric crewmen, loyal to Angolhel's cause all along, loaded the buckets of bile carefully onto a nearby rowboat, and lighting a flame within it, set it adrift. The scent of roses was rising on the air, from what little remained in the corrupted bile, of the once-sacred plants of Lorien that Amanuiron had defiled. They took it as a sign of hope. And the banners of Gondor on the shore still flapped defiantly in the nightly breeze. On the final night prior to their departure from Tumladen, before Saelbainor had come unto Ivordir's chamber, Amarthandor, on Ivordir's consent, burned the remainder of the phials of the bile of Guldrambor. And while Malnoron was away in Glaniath, his wife, though feigning support of her husband and her sons' defilement, burned the phials herself, grateful that this had worked. And she had fled from Pelargir on a ship to Dol Amroth. Edited by Ivordir, May 3 2016, 07:36 PM.
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| Ivordir | Nov 7 2015, 11:03 PM Post #436 |
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Chapter CCCXXII: Ar-Pharazon's Death Once their mouths had been washed, their bodies cleansed of evil, Alagossel bore Silevren with the weight of her shoulder, as they returned to their chamber. Their cloaks were still huddle together in shapeless heaps on the wooden floor. She gently tucked him-in with his golden cloak. She nearly laughed, staring at his wild, long, shaggy hair. She grabbed her fiery cloak and lay beside him. Sunlight flowed through the windows of the rocking vessel, when Silevren opened his eyes. He gazed into the centers of Alagossel's pupils. She gently stroked his hair, whispering, "You now rest with me.... my dear beauty........." Silevren continued to stare into her eyes restfully. She leaned-in, deeply kissing him on the lips, whispering, "I will help you find yourself again.... my Silevren....." Silevren stared at her starstruck, his chaotic memories of the previous night dancing in his head, "I...........I...was a scholar....... I had a beard............. I admired knowledge....... and...then...I...." "Hush now, my love........ think not on what has transpired...... rest...." "I...I hurt you! I deserve to die! Go away...." "Never, my love. Never. Do you understand me? Leave the past behind, before it destroys the both of us!" "It only happened yesterday! Thousands of years continually destroy us, thousands of years! How can yesterday pass away so quickly!" Her lips dove-in for the kiss again. His tensed face slowly began to relax, as did her own. She whispered, "Now calm down, .....calm down.........." Silevren nodded as he kissed her anew. They felt their hearts throbbing, pulsing and beating beautifully. They embraced each other deeply. He buried his face in her silky hair, breathing gently as the ship continued to gently rock slowly, to and fro. Hers was the balance, generous and gentle, to slowly reawaken his sanity. And she gently cocooned them both together in her cloak. They kissed anew. Edited by Ivordir, May 3 2016, 07:37 PM.
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| Ivordir | Nov 8 2015, 10:33 AM Post #437 |
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Chapter CCCXXIII: The Death of Sorcery Lerion found himself in a deep darkness, an unyielding abyss. He heard the sound of a serpent slithering. He cried in excruciating pain as it lashed and bit at him, its fangs biting deep into his wrists. He felt it curl around him, coiling, its suffocating, harsh pressure, bearing-in on him. He heard Caldor's voice: "You betrayed us!" He heard Rildis weeping. He opened his eyes to see his folds glimmering in bright sunlight. He rubbed his eyes. He tried to turn. He could not move. It was then that he became aware of Angolhel's warm arms, tenderly caressing him. He told her of his dream. She deeply sighed, "The bile killed them. Not you." "But I drank the bile!" "You did not know what it was! None of us did! I only avoided drinking it because of the Priestess' words." "But still! I drank it! You should have told me........ of the Priestess' words.... I would have listened........" Angolhel shook her head, "No, you would not have............." Lerion deeply sighed, "My revenge.................it empowers me.....how can I live without my revenge...................." Angolhel snapped, "Forget revenge.......... you do not need it....... it is an illusion only..... it bears naught but deeper, greater woe........." Lerion closed his eyes. He suddenly felt her warm, gentle, tender lips, as his heart began to throb. Angolhel whispered, "Let me now empower you.........for love is greater than all the vengeful thoughts, ambitions, and magics of the world..........." |
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| Ivordir | Nov 8 2015, 11:12 AM Post #438 |
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Chapter CCCXXIV: Gleaming Expiation And after Lerion had caressed Angolhel so deep, burying his head in her sweet hair, resting in the sanctity that filled their spirits, a sanctity they knew they never deserved, resting gently beneath their sun-strewn folds, they arose. They folded their excessive folds on each others' arms, akin to vast sleeves. And they summoned everyone to the ship's deck. The heights of Emyn Arnen arose to their right, and the deep, forested hills of Lossarnach to their left. The winds rushed fanatically around them, as if to greet them in the sunlight. The sunlight glittered, gleaming on the crystalline-blue surf. Deep-azure carpets had been placed on sections of the upper and lower decks, and cabins, where nobles rested and gathered. They had not spared a single expense. And this was why the lower folds of their capes and robes remained mostly clean. The tanned, sweaty skin of the sailors shined as if gold in the sunlight. No one stared at the sun directly. Angolhel's eyes were glistening with tears, "Tell me, Lerion, of the twain betrothed who had died, innocents, cast from this deck, wrongfully slandered." Lerion muttered their names painfully, "Caldor and Rildis." Their vessel gently rocked to and fro. Angolhel knelt down before the bow, as the others, crewman and noble, knelt together in the unity of their compassion. The air was filled with the sound of quiet weeping, that slowly grew louder, and louder. The wind made their tears glitter as they fell, rolling gently down their faces, as the wind cooled their faces, gently. And Silevren uttered, "We beg forgiveness!" He was kneeling as if a golden statue, intricately carved, in memory of the Eldar of old. The winds, as if in answer, gushed off the surface of the gleaming ebbing and flowing of the river, charging toward them. Angolhel suddenly felt mirthful, and free, as she outspread her arms, letting her cape billow freely, the others following suit, even those who did not wear cloaks, as they all felt the free, fresh air, gush on their garb, as the sunlight illuminated them. They all joined hands, the nobles still clutching their folds, as their hands were joined. A spectrum of colors, azure, silver, white, grey, blue, green, gold, and purple, and fiery hues of red, velvet and silk, all billowed and churned around them in a unifying, liberating ecstasy. They turned to the north, as the wind continued to billow their capes beneath their arms. The White City loomed far in the distant north, shining brighter than any diamond, a numinous beacon of light. They would all, noble and sailor, disguise themselves in noble garb. And they would enter the city. For now, within their minds, Amarthon had become a foe, a new intention rising in their souls: to defeat the False King, who now threatened Gondorian and Haradrim alike. And there, on the deck, fiery bright red enclosed itself around molten gold, as Alagossel and Silevren deeply kissed in the sunlight, with the others applauding. Angolhel and Lerion did the same. And with the consent of both couples, the Captain of the Ship wed both pairs together, in the presence of the others as witnesses, combining both Gondorian and Haradric Rites of Marriage. The trains of gleaming, brilliant cloaks, vanished behind closed doors in their cabin-rooms, while the others returned to their duties, their hearts gladdened, as their souls were singing in their gratitude. In the woods of Ithilien, a ranger murmured: "Halt thy arrows, Company. Orders from above. There are larger plans for them...." Edited by Ivordir, May 3 2016, 07:39 PM.
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| Ivordir | Nov 11 2015, 09:39 AM Post #439 |
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Chapter CCCXXV: Twilight Tinnuchon laughed mirthfully, "Well...... those sorceresses are beautiful..... and they are our sisters now, as Silevren is our brother......I am happy for him." Uialchon spoke sadly, "Yes...... no more shall he be our King.... no more shall we rest beneath his wings..........." Tinnuchon whipped his emerald-folds around himself, "None in Gondor would truly believe it..................." Uialchon tried to laugh, "And who are you? The Prince of the Forest?" Tinnuchon playfully covered his mouth and nose with the cloak, "And what would you ask, of such a Prince?" "To uphold his folds and process, revering his majesty." "Oh why do we play such childish games! The brave men on the front-lines, like our father, would be ashamed......." "Have you slept beneath a stone throughout these days, brother?" "It is most shameful for us to have declared ourselves as Kings......decking ourselves more majestically than the Steward himself." "I have never seen our Steward.... I have heard he is a frugal, wise, but stern lord......... Brother, I see the errors of our ways..... and we have indeed been graced....... it is wise for us to be mirthful...... contented and unafraid." Tinnuchon laughed and smiled at Uialchon's sudden change in demeanor, "Very well then.....Behold the Prince of the Forest!" He outstretched his arms as his glittering, golden lining draped to the floor. "Sunlight beams through my branches and leaves..." There was a flash of fiery-red lining as Uialchon outstretched his cloak, "And I, thy Prince of the Sea..... the light of the sunrise shines upon my shimmering waves." He bowed. There was a knock at the door. It was Alagossel, "Come...." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Aurion, Farion, and Melimon, Astaron and Annun, were all huddled in their cloaks together on the floor, drinking wine from their flasks. Their folds were smooth, despite their wrinkles, and warm, as the warm liquid surged slowly down their throats. It had a more pleasant taste. Aurion laughed, "Well, our Sorceresses' plans worked." Melimon smiled, "How could they not? They are as beautiful as goddesses." Astaron burped, "Are you implying that you've seen a goddess?" Annun smirked, "You never know with wine-drinking." Farion's sharper eyes glared at Annun, "Don't say that near them!" Annun laughed, "I won't! I won't! I'm glad to be with you, brothers..... so glad.......well-fed, thirst quenched, decked and bound together in all this richness and beauty....." Aurion stared at him poignantly, "We are blessed........." Farion laughed, "And, now that we're no longer traitors, we can meet some noble Ladies.........." Astaron smirked, "Which part of them would you prefer? Their glistening eyes or their silver coin?" Farion's face fell solemn, "Their spirits.........." Annun smirked, "We've got spirits a-plenty right here!" He took another swig from his flask, nearly spilling wine down his face. Astaron laughed, "I agree, I agree on all counts!" Melimon smiled, "Do you remember that pier, when we'd gather?" Aurion closed his eyes, "We mocked him bad....who-know-who got his, but what did we get............" Farion smiled, "We said yes to our brother. We listened to him. And so, we have received." Aurion retorted, "I don't think we deserve it........" Melimon bowed, "Yet we have received despite this...... let us not think sorrowfully, on what has already been forgiven......." They all smiled in their solemnity. Aurion's eyes were beaming, "Yes........." There was a knock at the door. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- They gathered once more on the deck of the ship. It had been hours. They were still far from the City. Lerion and Angolhel stood nigh the stern, their shining capes glimmering about them. Alagossel stood at her Master's side. Up the stairs from the hull of the ship, came golden Silevren, shining more beautifully than ever, as his hair glistened golden in the sunlight, his hair pouring down his back, as his eyes were beaming. He covered his mouth and nose with his golden folds, while Uialchon and Tinnuchon, their cloaks folded neatly on their arms, upheld the cloak of Silevren from the rear as they processed. The Sorcerer and Sorceresses outspread their cloaks, bathed in sunlight: the stars of desert sands. Their fiery folds glimmered brightly. Silevren and his servants knelt and bowed before them. Angolhel smiled, "Behold the magic of our prophecy! Triumph shall we gain..... great victory! Come forth, Lord Silevren.... and face all who are loyal to you!" "In deepest gratitude and honor.... I praise the Goddess!" He arose and the three turned to face the rest of the ship. Slowly, he outspread his arms, as if an incarnation of the Sun. But then the thought struck Silevren: What if rangers watched them? Silevren abruptly commanded, "All below deck. Now. The Rangers of Ithilien may perceive us as a threat. Gleaming as we are, we are in grave danger. As long as I have enjoyed such splendour, I believe the time has come to retire these silken folds to our way-worn sacks, to clad ourselves in the traditional garb of our fathers and forefathers. Although we are no longer traitors, this is most unwise. Now quickly! Before an arrow strikes the deck of this ship." They all stood, nodding, and filed back into the hull. And they obeyed his command. For the time for vanity was past. They folded their cloaks and bound them, as silk fell into way-worn wool. So ended their mad performance. Edited by Ivordir, May 3 2016, 07:40 PM.
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| Ivordir | Nov 11 2015, 10:18 PM Post #440 |
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Chapter CCCXXVI: Arrival at the Gates In the midst of their newly-found unity, they had forgotten Angolhel's reservations about the crewmen, her desire that they sail south once more to safety. Even Angolhel herself had forgotten this. They kept their mouths shut, all, noble and crewmen, garbed in noble robes, the ladies in their dresses, in dull, plain colors, shades of black and grey and blue, as they disembarked at Harlond on March 2nd. There was a fee at the dock that would increase, daily, and so Silevren sold the vessel to a greedy merchant. Now, there would be no escape. They loaded their goods on a cart they purchased, and made their way through the Gate-guards, as Silevren and Tinnuchon spoke for the others. Receiving admittance, they passed into the great circle of the Pelennor, on a long road through several farming hamlets, till they reached the main crossroads before the Great Gates. They passed through the Gates and slowly made their way, circle by circle, to Gurthbainor's supposed allies. Fear arose anew within their hearts, for these allies were now their foes. But then Uialchon sighted Saelbainor ascending one of the ramps. Saelbainor gazed downward in his fright. No fight could ensue, for they were all watched carefully. Saelbainor whispered, "Be gone from me...... you who refused our path....." And Silevren whispered, "............I have refused your path of wickedness." "Of wickedness..........I have abandoned such a path. I journey now in the light. I no longer worship shadows. I do not fear you." The words struck Silevren deeply with doubt, "And..... I journey now in the light." "I do not believe you." Duvaissel broke them up, "We do not have time for this now....... come, with us, up to the Sixth Level." Silevren nodded, prepared for whatever darkness might ensure. Lerion clenched his teeth in terror of the terrible memory of his terrible nightmare. Girding himself, he pressed forward with the others. Edited by Ivordir, Nov 16 2015, 08:39 PM.
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12:43 AM Jul 11