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Prologue: A Knife in the Heart
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Shading my eyes against the golden glare, I watched the slow descent of the westering sun. The banners of my kingdom fluttered bravely, caught high in the evening breeze, fragrant with the perfumes of many burgeoning flowers blooming in the gardens. I leaned upon the balustrade, listening to the approving rustle of autumn-rusted leaves stirred by the wind's soft caress. With light fingers it brushed against my cheek, and like a bird from a cage my mind flew with it. Although I stood in the midst of tranquillity, I myself could find no serenity. The dawning of the day had brought about unexpected events, which altered my foretold destiny inestimably, in ways I could not comprehend.
The suffering and oppression that had been the erstwhile reign of the now deceased Dark Lord, Sauron, thought to have been brought to an end with him, had slowly begun to lower its terrible hand upon the lands once more. We had learnt, of late, when I had attended a council at the right hand of my father, that while Sauron and his nine wraiths of king, the dreaded Nazgul, had indeed perished, those whose minds had been held beneath his influence had not been destroyed with their master. Now, masterless and vengeful, they sought to avenge their fallen lord - and Gondor, we were warned, would not assuredly remain inexorable against the imminent attacks of these anarchic folk.
Thus, early in the morning, I had been approached by my father's advisor, Avartil, and he had bade me walk with him a while. I had done so, although what he told me shook me to the core. Avartil had informed me that there were those who would seek to usurp my father, and murder him and the young line of the House of Telcontar, of which I was the first and only heir. He had confided in me concerns of his own. With his words in mind I skulk about behind the backs of my oblivious parents, and I know my duty. However, it must be executed with utmost discretion lest my parents learn of my plotting with my newly formed coterie. I have endured nights of sleeplessness, and learnt to abide bemusement at things beyond my understanding, or that yet lie locked to me.
Now, standing upon the balcony, my hand wandered to clutch the hilt of my dagger, a blade wrought of mithril and formed by the skilled hands of the Imladris smiths. It had been a gift to me from my father's most beloved of friends, Legolas Greenleaf, King Thranduil of Mirkwood's son. Much wise counsel had I sought from him in earlier times of trouble, and much useful advice had he given me. And now, more than ever, I needed once more to speak with him.
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Although, Fate's hand can be unpredictable in its blows, as it was in the events that followed my sojourn from court upon the balcony. My troubles truly began when my father's one-time companion and still friend Samwise Gamgee, Mayor of the Shire, came to Gondor with his wife Rosie and his beautiful daughter Elanor. Elanor and I had become fast friends, and soon there were no secrets kept between us, as was the rule of the bond between Elfwine Éomer's son and myself. It was during the autumn, when we celebrated the reprieve from summer's heat before winter's ice, that the truth of our peril touched me, and the boyish whims that still grasped my not-yet-manly mind threatened to destroy me...
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'Ah, so here you bide, Elf. I had wondered where you had gotten to; you had me worried.'
Elanor folded her voluminous yellow skirts beneath her in a prim fashion (I had often made jest over her appearing to my eyes like a great daffodil), and seated herself beside me, her eyes upon my face. I did not meet her gaze, nor did I have any wish for her companionship, not at this moment. I had killed a man, although I deem he fain would have slaughtered me had I not set dagger to his throat first. Such thoughts could not bring me comfort, and Elfwine had been eschewing me long hours, and when our eyes chanced to meet his face would be pale and taut with fear, and he would hasten from my presence. He was ashamed of himself, and ashamed of me. I wanted for nothing save a dark hole in which to hide myself until the end of days.
'You have been withdrawn of late, as does not befit your nature. Pray confide in me: what ails you?'
'Nothing,' I growled irritably, and I turned from the Halfling girl, feigning ignorance. She persisted in her interrogation and allowed me no peace to wallow in my misery. 'You can't hide from me, Elf,' she informed me firmly, venturing to touch my shoulder. I shrugged her hand away and ensured my back was to her.
'Elf, tell me what has happened,' she demanded of me, and I was unable to withhold the guilty cries of my conscience any longer.
'I slew a man, Star,' I wept. 'I slew a man.'
Her face betrayed her emotions. I felt I could not shed enough tears in my unrelenting sorrow, as she stared as if stricken upon my dampened face. Eventually she stirred herself, and in a fond gesture I had not expected lifted the hem of one of her innumerable skirts and dabbed at my cheeks. 'Hush, beloved friend,' she soothed, and her gentle smile was like a salve upon my throbbing wound. The hurt was lessened, although not dissipated. 'If I know aught of you, and I am certain I know and understand much, I know you would not murder a man in cold blood - would you?'
Her questioning tone was motherly and yet laced with uncertainty, consoling but suspicious. I was not sure what answer I could offer. Gradually I gave her what I understood to be the truth. 'I think he was an assassin meant to - do away with my father,' I managed through the mourning. 'He - he assailed me in the corridor down from my chambers, and I - I had Legolas' knife with me.'
'Legolas' knife! Where in the name of the Bullroarer did you come by that?' she exclaimed, and hurriedly shushed herself, looking thoroughly chastened. 'I - I f-found it on father's writing desk,' I stammered. 'Elfwine was with me, and we both thought it would be amusing if - if we borrowed it for a while. We intended to return it,' I added unnecessarily, as she played the avid audience to my horrible confession.
'We had been out in the gardens, and I heard Legolas and father returning on their horses from the hunt. So Elfwine and I hurried to place the knife back in its original position, and as we hurried up the steps and down the hall, a shadow leapt at us from behind the tapestry of Isildur cutting the ring from Sauron's hand. An arm was about my neck, and I heard a dagger drawn from a sheath. Elfwine hastened to my aid, and we struggled for a while, until I had the sudden urge to take up Legolas' weapon, and I - I ... ' I choked on my words, but strove to continue. I hoped the weight of my guilt might perhaps be lessened if other ears were privy to my misfortunate deed. 'I drew it across the man's throat and killed him.'
'And your father and Legolas are none the wiser?' Elanor breathed, astounded.
I shook my head sullenly. 'Nay, neither have knowledge of what I did,' I murmured softly.
'How so?'
I had admitted to my mother what had occurred after it had happened, quite a sight covered in the scarlet blood of my silent attacker whose throat I had slit. She had indeed been terribly distraught by the accident, although through tears had commended me for my brutal honesty. She wished as much as I to keep the mishap secret and from Father and Legolas: it was vital that they did not know. I feared the wrath of my father, as I lived in fear of him. A battle-hardened lord was he, world-weary and inwardly callused by his heroism in times past; hence his harshness towards those who strayed, whether intentionally or no, over the boundaries that Father had set in order to keep anarchy at bay. His ire was quick to be aroused and retribution swift; he would not abide a toe out of line without some form of punishment.
I knew he felt he acted for the best, although he fortuitously dealt only oppression. None dared speak out against him, less I. Although his stern rule had brought about an unforeseen change in the destiny I had thought lay mapped in fine detail before my feet. His strict and stubborn ways lit a new lantern for me, and a revealed a new path for me to follow.
'Thank you, Star,' I murmured to Elanor, and she gave me a sad smile as she patted my arm. 'Be not so grieved, Elf dear,' she advised me. 'We all must suffer the consequences of mistakes we make, it is all a way life has of bringing about change and learning. You acted the way any man would have, had he been assailed as you. You are justified, rest assured. Still, while I would prefer it if you alerted Strider - Aragorn - I mean, the king Elessar ... bless me, all these royal appellations are hard for one's mind to grasp,' she laughed, clapping her hands. I felt a new affection for her, although it did not surprise me. She, to me, had seemed more a sister than my own blood sisters, and I loved her as a sister and a friend.
'As I was saying,' she cleared her throat to continue in earnest; 'while I think it best if king Elessar was notified, I see why secrecy would be good to be kept. Oh, Elf, your heart will soon swallow you whole if you do not control it, for it burgeons like Dad's roses in the spring!'
She kissed me upon the brow, her beautiful eyes sparkling like the bedewed sapphirine petals of my mother's blue rose, as the sun rises to kiss the mountains early in the morning. Unbidden a smile crept across my erstwhile down turned mouth. She enfolded me in a brief embrace, and held my cold and blood-tarnished hands within her warm, pure ones. 'You're a funny one, Elf, and no doubt: "the apples never roll far from the tree; and it's the potatoes that stick closest to the surface what'll get bitten by the frost," as my granddaddy Gamgee liked to say. Meaning that you're like your father in many respects, but you let yourself dwell to close to concerns and dangers that should not be yours. Sleep easy Elf.'
'Fare you well till morning, my Star,' I whispered after her, as she rose and bustled away again to join the merriment of the hearthside.
And who am I? I am Eldarion son of Elessar, a youth of seventeen summers, Heir Apparent of Gondor, firstborn of the House of Telcontar, and an apprentice training to become a Royal Assassin. I am not alone in my cause: to my left stands Elanor the Fair, to my right stands Elfwine of the Mark.
Let them come, as Father says; and may they fall.
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Scary stuff :D. Well, that's that for now, hopefully have more up soon but not making any promises. Don't forget to wipe your feet on the way out and leave a review beside the door :). Later!
