Mae govannen! It's me, Raven!
If you've looked at my story Shame Cuts Deep, I mentioned that it follows the events of a story called All Hallow's Eve, which at the time was unpublished. Well, here it is! I'm hoping to finish this by Halloween, but I kinda get the feeling that's not gonna happen XP
For the record, this begins in late October - probably around the nineteenth, but the bulk of the action takes place on the thirty-first.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing created by the esteemed Professor Tolkien, God rest his soul.
Chapter I: The Messenger
Our story opens on a stormy late October afternoon in the city of Minas Tirith. Even though it was only three o'clock, the sky was as dark as pitch, with white-hot sizzles of lightning snapping through the sky like a cat-o'-nine-tails.
The savage sheets of rain beating down on the tiered city drove all but stationed guards to the safety of their homes. All but guards . . . and one other man.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0
King Aragorn stood at the western edge of the palace courtyard, deep Prussian blue cloak whipping around his body as he gazed up, as best he could, into the stormy sky.
He was used to the power and intensity of nature's rage―after all, he'd been a Ranger for the majority of his life, sleeping under the stars and battling against the elements on any given day.
"Are you sure staying out here is wise, mellon-nin?"
Turning his head ever so slightly, Aragorn's eyebrows quirked at the youthful fair-haired Elf, also clad in a cloak, standing just behind him. "You can tell me 'I warned you' if I fall ill, Legolas," the Dunadan replied, with just a hint of a wry smile on his rugged features.
Legolas gave a little shrug of his shoulders, lips curving into an almost apologetic smile. "I won't have to―Queen Arwen requested that I bring you inside, and she said that if you didn't listen to me, she would come out and bring you in herself."
Aragorn sighed. "Well, I don't suppose I could argue that ruling, could I?"
"I wouldn't advise it, no."
With that, the king and Wood-Elf started the walk back to the palace. "You know you didn't have to stay in Minas Tirith, Legolas," he said. "The rest of the Fellowship disbanded months ago. Your father's probably concerned about you."
"Ada knows I'm quite capable of caring for myself―and I will be leaving soon. Besides, you know why I stayed for as long as I did."
"I do―and for that, I'm grateful. You have more knowledge than even Gandalf can give you credit for."
Legolas smiled ruefully. "Being Elven royalty has its benefits, I suppose."
"And I'm not sure I told you this properly, but thank you for your advice, mellon-nin. It has been indeed helpful in these first few months of―er―"
"Your reign?" The Elf gently placed a hand on the king's back. "I know that you're still adjusting to this, even now, but you were born for this role, Estel―and you execute it well. Gondor will have many years' peace under your rule, if not hundreds."
Aragorn returned his friend's smile. "Well, we'll just have to wait and see, I suppose."
Legolas nodded. Before he could say anything more, the doors to the palace opened, and the slim figure of Queen Arwen appeared in the archway. "We will have to continue this discussion later," the Elf-prince said, frowning as his eyes fell on Aragorn's bride. "Arwen appears concerned."
The daughter of Elrond did indeed appear worried as her husband and his companion ducked into the shelter of the archway. "Oh, good, you decided to come inside," she said, shooing the two into the castle and quickly shutting the double doors behind them. "Estel, a messenger claiming to be from Esgaroth has arrived―she's in your office. I would have had her wait in the throne room, but seeing how she was dripping wet and looking like she had climbed in through a window―"
"No need to explain further, melda-nin," Aragorn said quickly, shaking off his wet cloak. He was about to drop it on the floor when a look on Arwen's face stopped him. The Elleth coughed pointedly. "Right―don't leave wet garments around the castle."
"I'll be taking those―and I'll bring both of you a fresh set of clothes―you can change after you meet with the messenger." Taking Aragorn's and Legolas's cloaks, the Queen of Gondor disappeared down a hallway.
Legolas whistled, a rather un-Elven gesture. "She's become more practical than even I've witnessed."
Aragorn shrugged, slightly helpless. "I believe Eowyn's had that effect on her. Not that it's a bad thing, it's just . . . a little out-of-character for Arwen."
0o0o0o0o0o0o0
Upon arriving in Aragorn's private office, they encountered the mysterious messenger. A slender girl bundled in a woolen cloak was huddled next to the fireplace. When Aragorn and Legolas entered, she rose quickly, wrapping the cloak around herself and drawing the hood over her head. But before her face was hidden, Aragorn caught a glimpse of long dark brown hair and pointed ears―an Elleth.
"My lord Elessar," the Elleth dipped into a curtsy, "and my lord Legolas. I apologize for intruding on your privacy so abruptly."
"There's no need for apologies, my lady," Aragorn replied kindly. "I should apologize for making you wait. My wife tells me you have a message from Esgaroth?"
"What? Oh, yes." The Elleth nodded emphatically. "I am to give you these." Her hands, slender and delicate, appeared from under her cloak, bearing two bundles wrapped in a sort of brown parchment. "They are for you and the lord Legolas―a . . . a gift from my master. He also has a message for you." Clearing her throat, she recited, "On the final day of Narquelie, when spirits stir and dark powers wake; look to Oshengûl―for the broken Fellowship's sake."
Legolas scowled. "I know Oshengûl far too well―it is a fell and sinister place. I question your master's intent if he means for us to seek out that stronghold of black magic." He narrowed his intense blue eyes at the Elleth.
She did not meet his gaze. "I am merely a messenger, my lord Legolas," she said, almost in a monotone. "What my master bids me to deliver is not my doing, nor am I responsible for the action you take."
As she spoke, she moved softly towards the open door. "You need not leave so soon," said Aragorn, stopping her before she could exit the room. "You must be tired, and this is no weather fit for traveling―please stay."
She shook her head, and the king of Gondor caught a glimpse of a small, almost sad, smile. "Thank you for your kindness, Lord Elessar," she replied, "but my master summons me, and I must answer. I cannot tarry here. Farewell, and all the blessings of the Valar upon you."
With that, she moved gently past Aragorn and disappeared through the doorway.
Aragorn turned to Legolas, who picked up the two packages from the floor where the Elleth had left them. "You were slightly tactless when addressing her about your dislike of Oshengûl," he said, mildly accusatory. "You could have used more cordial wording."
"You know nothing of Oshengûl, Aragorn," Legolas said bitterly. "Anyone who has a master who says look to Oshengûl is no one I can trust. Even she speaks of the blessings of the Valar."
Aragorn was about to ask just exactly what he didn't know about Oshengûl when the Elf-prince deposited the parcels on the king's chair. "I'll be in my room," he said in a clipped voice.
With that, he strode past Aragorn and through the open door. The former Ranger frowned. What was that about? he thought. I really don't understand that Elf sometimes. . .
Even though he had spent nigh over fifteen years of his life with Legolas, the Mirkwood Elf had him befuddled and frustrated at times―such as now. What did he have against Oshengûl?
With a name like "Fortress of the Sorcerer's Eye", the ruined stone castle located along the river which connected the lake where the city of Esgaroth was located to the forest of Mirkwood sparked fear in the hearts of many who heard the name and of its reputation. But Legolas hadn't spoken the name in fear: he had almost spat out the word, with an amount of cold, fierce hatred that Aragorn didn't think possible for his friend to feel towards anyone or anything.
Now his curiosity was unwillingly piqued―why did Legolas despise anything having to do with Oshengûl? He will tell me when he is ready, one part of his mind reasoned. But the other part, the more outspoken part, pointed out, That may be a secret he keeps until the day he departs for the Grey Havens―if he even ever does so. You should corner him into answering your questions about it. It's not fair of him to just say something like that and not tell you why he thinks so.
Knowing that Legolas didn't usually divulge information like that without it being pried out at swordpoint, Aragorn said aloud, "I'll ask him about it after supper tonight. Perhaps he'll be in a more agreeable mood then."
With this plan in place, he began the work of examining the packages from the mysterious Elleth messenger. If she was not trustworthy, she had certainly puzzled him.
Here are the Elvish to English translations, along with the unfamiliar terms I may have used:
mellon-nin: my friend
Estel: hope, Aragorn's adoptive name
Esgaroth: the previous name for Lake-town, which was readopted after its rebuilding towards the end of the Third Age
melda-nin: my dear/darling
Elessar: I believe it means "elf-stone", but I'm not entirely sure; Aragorn's name as king
Narquelie: the Elvish (Quenya dialect) name for the month of October
Oshengûl: Fortress of the Sorcerer's Eye
Review, please?
