| The Rarity of a Day Off; [open]--Citadel Courtyard | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 5 2008, 07:02 PM (288 Views) | |
| Aranel | Jan 5 2008, 07:02 PM Post #1 |
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The sun was slowly rising near the mountainous boundary of Mordor in the distance. It was still early, but Aranel was still awake and in the courtyard of the citadel. However, she was slightly irritated to remember that today was her day off, King Aragorn himself having told her to take a short rest so that she wouldn't wear herself out. She truly appreciated the sentiment, though it still meant that there would be nothing for her to do today besides wandering about the city. The lower levels were much nicer when shops opened and other people began to fill the streets, but right now it was better to watch the sun rising instead from almost the highest point of the city. Sighing to herself, Aranel leaned folded arms against the white stone ledge, looking down to the Pelennor Fields seven levels below her. Had she been afraid of heights, she might have been bothered by this sight and have to step away from the edge; but she was not, nor did she fear much at all, and so she simply looked down idly at the ground before turning her eyes to the rising sun once more. Aranel brought her arm up and rested her chin on top of her fist, her dark green dress moving against the ground slightly in the gentle breeze. It hadn't been her ideal outfit to wear on her day off, but if she was to wander amongst the other citizens later, she wasn't in the mood to tolerate the mutters and whispers about her odd choice of clothing for a woman. The sun finally revealed itself completely above the mountains and Aranel stood upright once more, folding her arms and staring out toward the mountains with an odd expression on her face. Mere months ago had Sauron been driven out of that land, yet he had once more survived and was looking for yet another object that was keeping him alive. His Ringwraiths had been spotted near the Misty Mountains four days ago, and Aranel was itching for Lord Aragorn to give her the orders to investigate. Only yesterday, after his order for her to take the day off, he had told her that she would be sent West soon to investigate and try to find what the dark ones might be after. It would be exciting, and she was ready to go now instead of have to wait. It would be a secret mission, however, and therefore she would likely be sent alone and without notice to her comrades. She worked well alone, though it was also somewhat comforting to have someone to talk to on long journeys. As this thought entered her head, she heard footsteps behind her and her first thought was that the guards had come to protect the White Tree, the tree of the king. However, it was usually longer after dawn that they withdrew from their homes to come on duty, so she ruled that thought out of her head and turned her head slightly and waited to see who had ventured out so early. |
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| Aldona Morland | Jan 7 2008, 12:15 AM Post #2 |
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Her morning had not been off to a pleasant start, not that anyone was to blame for that. Save perhaps cruel Fate. Screams had flooded through the inn at an ungodly time, somewhere in the middle of the fourth hour, waking more than half of the guests. One irate gentleman--if he could really be called that--had stormed out in the minutes that followed, bellowing about the terrible service, though his business was not very important. A drunken bastard son of a lord's business was not nearly as beneficial the mysterious travellers from Arnor, who had paid more than necessary and in gold. Thankfully, they were not light sleepers and their slumber went unmolested. Any of the guests that had been angry had but to glimpse Miriel, sobbing and heartbroken, and all was forgotten. Aldona sat beside her, holding her hand and stroking her hair, her low soothing reassurances completing the feeling of pity among the women and even a few of the men. Miriel was too quiet about her emotions and they would fester inside of her until they exploded when she had no defenses, during her sleep. She had not had an outburst yet since they had moved into the inn, after Aunt Morwen's death, but things at the Archives lately had been dark and sinister to say the least. What Miriel could tell Aldona of the files she had to read, she did; this did not allay the darkness that had crept into her elder sister's eyes over the past several days. "Hell," Aldona ground out, cursing herself furiously as she stormed up the dim path, "and what a sister am I for noticing her symptoms and doing nothing to stop it." Honestly, nothing could be done. Miriel was her own person and it seemed she was losing hope. She had dreamt of the Anduin, twisting and winding, the waters unusually calm for this time of year. Her hand reached out to touch it, but it turned to glass, shattering at the contact. She fell through into shadow, Ingar falling beside her. As she first glanced on him, he smiled; then when she looked once more, he was dead, bludgeoned to the head, arrow straight through the heart. Yet somehow he moved, his icy hand pulling her down faster, making her scream. Aldona knew nothing of dreams, using only her perception to puzzle out what she could. She did not set very much store by books or people who professed to hold answers to the conjurings of the unconscious, finding it shady and ridiculous. The White Tree was comforting for some reason, a faint trace of hope in a city where hope was sometimes difficult to grasp for. She remembered younger days, when she had to sneak past guards to see it, or when her father would take her himself. She blinked. Bad idea, goose. Focus attention on the dreams. But all attention was snatched from her by the woman in front of her. Aldona stared, perhaps rudely, or at least coldly, at the person, detecting familiarity in her features. That was it, she had seen her with the King once. But who... ? "Good morrow," she said coolly, skirting a tone of friendliness. I have no reason to distrust anyone. Aldona did not like people she did not know, but was usually reasonable about it. This did not stop her from being on her guard. Edited by Aldona Morland, Jan 7 2008, 12:15 AM.
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| Aranel | Jan 8 2008, 06:10 PM Post #3 |
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Casually almost, Aranel turned to observe the person who had greeted her: a younger woman than she, with chestnut hair and light eyes. There was a certainty in her mind that she had seen this person before, but where she could not imagine. There were too many who looked the same in such a large city to truly be able to recognise the same person once seen in a crowd, and this was no exception. It didn't bother Aranel in the slightest, however, and she neither attempted nor cared to a great extent the identity of this person: all she worried about was whether she was a threat. After all, what would a commoner (for that was what she supposed the other was, noting the clothing she wore) be doing at the citadel in this almost unholy hour of the morning? "Good morrow to you as well," she greeted her, her quiet tone notwithstanding the chill of the greeting she had received. Although it would have been more polite, Aranel made no move to move closer to be heard easier: a distance between a new person was the best course of action. Who knew what this person wanted? This seemed paranoid even to her own mind, yet she pushed this aside and concentrated on finding out what exactly a commoner's business would be here, of all places. The easiest way, of course, was to be blunt about it; but a certain level of subtlety was often more acceptable in these positions, expert as she was. "It is still early. I doubted many others to be out and about until later," she commented, pulling her hair back behind her ear as a slight gust of wind blew it out of place. |
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2:56 PM Jul 11
