A/N: Well, it really hasn't been a good couple of days for me. One: I've got my AS results (those are exams you take after your sixth year of high school) and they are not good. Not only are they not good, they don't make sense either. I didn't do well on things I was confident with and I'm asking for a re-mark. Two: the Half Blood Prince film date has been put forward EIGHT WHOLE MONTHS! It was your reviews that kept me from completely blowing a fuse.
evildictionaryninja: He certainly has. Hari's in trouble, now.
sweety-pie2712: Okay, let me clear it up for you. Draco got kidnapped by the Fanka gang, a gang of renegade soldiers who conceal their identities with their scarves. No proof of their identities had been brought forward but Hari knows they're soldiers. That seem clearer?
minoki: Thanks very much.
EngelCre: Glad to have you back. Scary Hari is really awesome.
!!: Certainly is.
Crystal Malfoy: Well, Hari won't get a punishment you'll expect!
?: Thanks. I was a bit worried that I didn't do it very well.
Calasier Avamela
Chapter 10: The Madness Strikes
Never turning or saying a word, the Prince strode on toward the camp, seemingly deaf all Maltandir's words. The camp was fairly quiet and the tent of the dead was extended many times to accommodate the number of bodies. The wounded were being treated in the healing tent and more soldiers were on guard now. They seemed worried about a second wave.
The Prince walked past the staring soldiers without a backward glance. The look upon his face seemed to scare them into silence. Their news and messages were directed instead to Maltandir. The dead had been counted: they had lost nearly half of the Akhohr that made camp on the field, many were injured and about ten of the sixteen captains were dead. The orc corpses were being collected and burned. The smoke rising was visible over the trees and the smell was drifting over to them.
Maltandir stopped trying to receive an explanation from the Prince, for he would not respond. He only strode resolutely toward his tent with Draco in his arms. There was the faint sound of the Alqualond re-enforcements on the air. They know not of the ambush. Their Queen shall be among them. His thoughts returned to worry. What will the Queen do when she finds out the Prince committed murder in her lands? What will the King and Queen of Valivial do, for that matter?
Finally, they reached the restored royal tent. Thankfully, it had been extinguished before any real damage could have been dealt and many of the Prince's possessions seemed intact. Once within the tent, the Prince laid Draco upon his bed and stood over him in silence. Maltandir took this motionless silence as an opportunity to try and receive some response from him,
"Your Majesty, what had that elf done to earn your wrath?"
Nothing. A little impatience came into him,
"You do realise, Your Majesty, that you have committed outright murder in a country that is our ally. Their armies come now with their Queen. What explanation can I give them for your actions?"
Nothing. Maltandir sighed,
"Your Majesty, will you not speak to me?"
"Who has done this?" The sudden speech made Maltandir blink in surprise, "Who brought Draco here? Who did this?" He turned, the dark look intensifying, "Who did this?"
Thinking that honesty was the best course of action, Maltandir said, "It was I, Your Majesty, and I humbly apologize for acting against your will."
"Apologize?" Some of the mad wrath appeared in his eyes again, "Apologize? Will your meagre apology revive those dead? Will your apology erase this?" He jabbed a finger at Draco's wounds, "This is your doing. This disaster would not have happened if you had not brought him!"
"Come, Your Majesty." Maltandir thought this very unfair. Draco had nothing to do with the orc ambush, "Your words are unreasonable. If I had not brought Draco, this would have happened nonetheless. The boy is blameless in this whole incident. Hari," He placed a hand upon the Prince's shoulder, "this whole affair is a great upset but you must not make irrational claims. The blame is upon no one."
The Prince looked up and fixed him with a long hard glare, "You know nothing. Those rats deserved the death I gave them. They were lower than the orcs they aided. Yea, the orcs that ambushed us were given information by them! Do not say that everyone is blameless! You know nothing; Maltandir, you may be! If it were not for you," He added, his voice rising, "and your negligent watch over him, they would not have aided the orcs!"
"They captured Draco, I know." Maltandir nodded, knowing that anger in return would be no use against the Prince "I did watch over him and lost my arm to do it. I regret allowing his capture but, if they are as loathsome as you say, they would have aided the orcs nonetheless."
"You know nothing!" repeated the Prince. His hands curled into fists and his voice rose to a shout, "You, Maltandir, I know that you have caused this! You brought Draco here against my will and you see why I desired him to stay at Ariador!"
"Are you worried about him?" Maltandir asked, wanting to steer the conversation away from blame, "Did you confine him to protect him?"
"What?" The Prince glared at him, as though he had said something very offensive. Maltandir was thankful that he had ceased shouting, "Do you think I care for the boy? He is nothing but a trouble to me! He is naught but a foolish, reckless human! I should have known better than to employ him." He glared at Maltandir, as though it had been he who had recommended Draco's employment,
"It was your decision, Your Majesty." Maltandir reminded him, "And, I do think that you are not truthful when you say that you care nothing for him." The flinch from the Prince was all he needed to know that he was right, "From Leonas, Arawen and Marilla-"
"DO NOT UTTER THAT NAME IN MY PRESENCE!" The Prince bellowed, actually making Maltandir jump, "SHE IS NOT MARILLA! SHE IS NAUGHT BUT A DROW SPY! NOW, BE SILENT!"
"I believe," Maltandir pursued, "that she so angers you because she ordered Draco to be whipped. Yes, I know all about that. Draco told me all during the journey here." The Prince said nothing but crossed over to Draco and proceeded to glare into the boy's face, "He told me a great deal and I am surprised at your behaviour towards him. You have treated with all unjust and partial mannerisms. You focus upon his failings and not his success. One would think you disliked him for his race." There was no answer but his hands were still fists, "He respects you, Hari. He has a great deal of respect for you."
"Would he demonstrate it," The Prince growled, "by giving me proper obedience and no bother that is due of a servant. Silence!" He snapped, as Maltandir opened his mouth again, "Am I not your Prince? Dare you defy me?"
"He loves you." Maltandir knew it was pointless to hide it, "He did not admit it to I but I know that the love he bares for you is greater than simple respect. And," He added, bravely, "I have reason to know that you love him."
The reaction was swift. The Prince whirled around and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, "What do you know of it? NOTHING!" A fist retracted and flew straight into Maltandir's face. Staggering, Maltandir knocked into a charred table and both toppled to the floor. This was completely unexpected; the Prince would shout, fly into a rage and become unreasonable but he had never struck a close friend.
The madness the Prince had shown fighting the orcs seemed to rekindle and he flung himself at the other. Maltandir was pinned, horrified, to the floor by the Prince's weight and hailed with blows to every part of his body that the Prince could reach, "Say it! Say it! CONFESS YOUR GUILT IN THIS TRAGEDY OR I SHALL BEAT YOU TO YOUR DEATH!"
The tent flap flew open and Captain Florial hurried inside. Seeing what was going on, she gasped and immediately pulled the Prince away, "Your Majesty, contain yourself!"
"HE IS AT FAULT IN THIS!" bellowed the Prince, struggling in her grip, "HE HAS BETRAYED US! ARREST HIM! CONFINE HIM TO THE RANKEST DUNGEON! SENTENCE HIM TO THE WORST DEATH!"
Being older than the other captains and knowing some of the Prince's moods, Florial knew better than to believe him, "Your Majesty, please!"
"Hari," Despite being bruised and battered by the Prince's blows, Maltandir could stand and he glared at the Prince with authority. He had caught Draco's eye as the boy opened one a little. The Prince must not meet with him. Not now. His fury shall destroy Draco, "you are raving. If you do not cease, I am sure that Captain Florial and all of our soldiers shall assist me in doing you a great service by subduing and binding you until you come to your senses."
"WILL NO ONE SILENCE THAT VILLAIN?" bellowed the Prince. With that, he broke free of Captain Florial and stormed out of the tent.
Draco lay with his eyes closed. He didn't dare open them. Voices around him were shouting in Elvish and he recognised them as Maltandir and his Prince. He knows I'm here. Cold dread came into him as he heard His voice right above him. Now, you've gone and done it, Draco. He told himself, Now, He'll be really angry with you and He'll send you back home for sure.
There was a commotion and Draco dared a small peak. What he saw astonished him; his Prince was being restrained by a female soldier and Maltandir getting to his feet. He looked as though he had been beaten very badly. His lip was bleeding and his eye was blackened. What was even more astonished was that his arm was back. I could have sworn I'd seen one of those bandits chop it off.
There was more talk and then, his Prince stormed from the tent in a towering rage that Draco could almost feel in the air. Maltandir watched Him go and then, turned to Draco, "Draco, how are you?"
"Fine." It was only then did he realise that all of the cuts he had sustained had vanished, "Yeah, great." He could also sit up without trouble, "What's the matter? Why was the Prince so angry?"
Maltandir's face darkened and he sat down by Draco's side, "It has been a dark night for Valivial. Orcs ambushed us and killed half of the Akhohr." Draco gaped. He knew what the Akhohr was and it amazed him to think that half of those noble-looking warriors that had left Ariador were now gone, "What is worse, the Prince has murdered a whole gang of bandits upon Alqualond soil. It will cause great trouble between the countries, I can tell you."
"He...killed them?" Draco's mouth hung open,
"Yes."
The tent flap opened and a small elf dressed in silver with a coil of white hair (despite her looking young) entered. She looked troubled. She spoke a few words in Elvish and Draco definitely picked out 'Maltandir' from the words she spoke. Her voice was very sweet, despite the worried tinge to it. Maltandir answered solemnly and then, made a gesture to Draco while facing her. He guessed that Maltandir was introducing him to her,
"Hello, Draco." She said, in broken English. Her voice sounded just as sweet when speaking in English too, "I Celemarin, leader of Alqualond Nimohtar."
"Nice to meet you." Draco inclined his head politely, not knowing what else to do. This seemed to suffice for Celemarin smiled and said,
"You are servant of Prince, yes?"
"I am." Draco nodded,
"Is Prince here?"
"No, he's just left."
"I come here and I see destruction. Something is wrong, yes?"
"Draco," Maltandir interrupted from the other side of the tent, crossing the room with an armful of clothes, "the Prince might want these. Could you go and find him, please?"
Feeling it would be better to talk to Celemarin, Draco swung himself off his bed and took the clothes. He inclined his head again to Celemarin and left the tent. Instinctively, he looked left and right but there was no sign of him. His misgivings increased; his Prince's fury would surely be directed at him and he did not like having to meet him alone.
Nevertheless, he hurried around the camp, looking for Him. It took him about fifteen minutes to search the whole camp and he realised just how many Valivial soldiers had been lost since there were many more soldiers with silver cloaks (Draco guessed that they were Alqualond soldiers) than ones with golden ones. In addition, he saw that the tent of the dead (he guessed this from the black owl upon it he had seen on the tombs in Numeranor) was about fifty feet long or more. There was the smell of burning flesh which made Draco wrinkle his nose. What on earth is that?
"Are you lost?"
The question came from behind him when he was looking at the smoke rising above the trees. He jumped and looked round. Behind him was a tall elf with white-blonde hair plaited and wrapped into a bun on top of her head. Her pale skin shone in the sun and so did her golden tiara and long, floaty blue dress. In fact, she looked so like Draco's mother than he staggered a little. However, the smile and little chuckle gave her away; his mother never laughed at something like that,
"Does my appearance surprise you?" Her voice was surprisingly deep. Draco had expected a sweet voice like Calamari's,
"Erm, yes. A bit. You...you like a bit like...like my mother..." Draco ended this sentence staring at the ground, his cheeks flushing. It had been the first time he had thought of his mother in over two months. The elf gently took hold of his face and made him look up at her. She was smiling sympathetically,
"Do you miss her? You must have been here a long time."
Draco couldn't answer truthfully so he settled for a noncommittal, "Hmm." The elf released his face and looked at the long death tent,
"It looks awful. To think that such a thing could have happened to the Valivial army, that Prince Hari could have failed them." Draco thought this a little unfair but didn't say anything. He knew better than to contradict elves, "Well," She too seemed to rethink her statement, "perhaps he did not. I do tend to blame those in authority for mistakes."
"Have you seen the Prince at all?" Draco asked. Some of the impatience he had gained while searching rose, "Maltandir sent me to find him."
"Yes. About twenty minutes ago. He went into the trees over there without saying a word to me. He looked quite upset, though." She pointed to a clump of dense oak trees,
"Thank you." Draco hurried off into them and glanced around. Valivial was a dangerous place to walk alone, Draco had long learned this, and wished that Maltandir could have accompanied him. Or the elf he had just met. Clasping the clothes Maltandir had given him to his chest, he hurried through the trees until he found a path. Instinctively, he strode along it. Paths were safer than woodland; there was less chance of getting lost.
He had not gone twenty paces when he heard the sound of running water. It was loud, louder than a river. A waterfall. He was about to move on when something shiny caught his eye. The river can't be that close, surely. He glanced around. It wasn't water but something silver nonetheless was settled in the grass verge by the path. Cautiously, he approached it. It was something thin and round.
He gave a small gasp. It was his Prince's circlet. Slowly, he bent down to pick it up. It was cold and beautiful in Draco's hands. Just like my Prince. He looked around, Perhaps he is by this waterfall. He moved cautiously down the slope, checking his footing before making a move. The slope was steep and the ground was slippery with melted frost. The trees were still bare but there were the telltale precursors of spring about them.
The sound of water was closer now. The trees were thinning out and bushes had to navigated around. Rocks were appearing, becoming steadily wetter with spray. Draco peered out from behind a tree and saw a waterfall, twice the size of him, flowing into a deep pool beneath. In the pool was...Draco gasped. It became airless again. It had to be a god. Nothing else could be so beautiful. Except...
It was, for certain, his Prince. Naked and gleaming in the newly risen sun. His hair had a new sparkle to it, looking more than ever like stars had been captured in its strands. The water came up to His waist and He had His back to Draco. His skin was pale and it too glittered with little drops of water. On the stony bank lay His discarded clothes, all in a heap and blood-stained.
Draco retreated a little behind the tree. He longed to gaze at this beauty forever but his Prince would be furious if He knew he was being watched while He was bathing. Least of all, by Draco. The boy wondered whether he could just leave the clothes and go before his Prince caught him. But, if He were look around...Biting his lip, he looked around again. His Prince was wading towards the waterfall now, away from Draco. Now, if any, was the time to do it without attracting attention.
Quietly as he could, he dodged around the bush and strode over the larger stones that wouldn't clatter at his feet. His Prince was sticking his head in the flow of water and squeezing his hair as though trying to wash something out. Draco reached the large, dry flat stone where His clothes had been discarded and placed the slightly wrinkled new ones beside them along with the crown. Another glance at Him told him that he hadn't been seen. He gave an inward sigh of relief, So far, so good.
He retreated across the stones, thinking that, at last, he had some luck. But the stones seemed to double in precariousness and became twice as wet. He slipped and with a involuntary cry of surprise, he slid straight into the water. It was surprisingly deep and went up to above Draco's waist. His head was momentarily submerged and it took him about a second to realise he had to get back to the surface. He straightened and panted, wringing wet in the water.
He realised that his Prince could not have failed to see him now, "Sorry, Your Majesty! I was just giving you-" He looked around. He wasn't there. He had just disappeared, "Your Majesty?" Thinking he had probably fled in surprise, Draco was at least thankful that he had not seen too much, "Sorry." He said again, to the silence and climbed out, hoping that his burning face would help him to get dry quicker.
By the time he returned to Maltandir's tent (which was thankfully near the borders of the camp), he was about half-dry. Since most of the journey was uphill, it took longer and the new wind was a great help. Still, he was not dry enough for Maltandir not to notice, "Draco, what happened to you?"
"I...er, fell in the river." Draco's face flushed again. Maltandir did him a great unkindness in not being alone when he returned. He was with Celemarin, many other female Nimohtars and the blonde woman with the golden tiara he had met before going into the trees. The woman gave another little chuckle,
"Where? At the waterfall?"
"Yes." He did not meet her eye,
"Was the Prince there?" Maltandir asked,
"Yes. He was...bathing..." It was humiliating to say it. Everyone seemed to surmise what had happened but they were polite enough not to question any further. Instead, Celemarin asked,
"You captured by bandits, yes?"
"Yes." Draco nodded, grateful to get away from the subject,
"You taken to tavern on island, yes?"
"Yes, I was." It's just from one bad subject to another, He thought, bitterly,
"You no see faces, yes?"
"No, I didn't see their faces. They were covered." He sat down awkwardly on the stool Maltandir provided. Again, he felt like he was on stage. All of the elves present were looking straight at him, as though trying to stare him out. The blonde woman spoke again,
"It will take a day at least to identify their bodies. Even if they were criminals, committing murder on ally land is a serious crime. My lands have long been allies with Valivial and this event comes as a great shock to me. I must know everything."
During the conversation, Draco found out the woman was actually the Queen of Alqualond but she forgave him for not bowing immediately. She was more lenient than his Prince but not as kind as the Queen. His Prince never returned during the conversation and it was nearly an hour before a messenger interrupted them to inform the room that He had already left for Ariador and required Maltandir to take Draco separately,
"Pleasure to meet you, Draco." Celemarin inclined her head, smiling,
"Likewise, Draco." Queen Mirima held out her hand for him to kiss. When all had said farewell, Maltandir took him out of the royal tent and led him to his restored caravan. It was then that Maltandir showed weariness. He slumped against the canvas once the horse had got going,
"What a night! Half of the Akhohr lost! Half in one stroke!"
"I'm sorry, Maltandir." Draco said, staring at his knees, "I shouldn't have gone."
"Oh, don't blame yourself, Draco." Maltandir waved a hand, dismissively, "The fault is mine." He saw Draco's face and added, "Do you fear for the Prince's anger?"
"Yes." Draco felt it pointless to lie, "He'll send me back to my world for sure now." His insides squirmed at the prospect. Having to be confined to Malfoy Manor and Hogwarts and never seeing his Prince again. He'd never see King Jaurion, Queen Lindilwen, Arawen, Leonas, Marilla, Maltandir - the list went on of the people he had met and tears prickled in his eyes. He remembered little now of the human world. What he did remember felt dull and pointless compared to the bright and beautiful life of Valivial. He did not want to return to the life he had before. He longed to remain in Valivial with his Prince,
"Perhaps he will and perhaps he will not." Maltandir stood up and sat beside him, "I know, however, that you will not be without defence if the Prince does decide to send you away. There are many who have great respect for you and will not stand by if the Prince rejects you. Leonas, Marilla and Arawen, just to name a few."
Draco chose only to nod. Those three may be his friends but would they be enough to overthrow Him?
"The King and Queen, also, like you." This made Draco look up, "They told me. The Queen especially finds you quite charming." He couldn't help but feel a bit better. A warm feeling glimmered within him at the thought of the Queen's opinion. He was surprised by the King, though. He had hardly ever encountered him but, at least, he seemed warmer than his Prince, "The King is very fair." Maltandir went on, "He shall give you a fair hearing if it comes to it."
Maltandir spent most of the journey in the same vein, encouraging Draco that the Prince might not send him away, what to say when he met Him and, if He did, then there were those who would back him up. He also mentioned that, if he was thrown out of Ariador, he would gladly take Draco on as a Nimohtar if he wanted. They reached Ariador in what felt like less time than the journey away from it had taken. Maltandir stepped down first and helped Draco out. A neigh from across the courtyard alerted them to the presence of Helin and His coach. He's here already.
The doors of the palace were open and a few people around in the courtyard were talking in tense whispers. They glanced at Draco and then, went back to whispering. Draco's heart sank. Had He already told everyone what happened?
"DRACO!"
He whipped round just in time to see three elves hurtling towards him. In an instant, he was almost knocked over by Arawen. She gripped him with abnormal strength. Must be those climbing muscles, "Draco! Oh, Draco, we were so worried!"
"Easy, Arawen." Leonas' voices came from somewhere to his left. Arawen reluctantly released him and Draco noticed with a jolt that her face was streaked with tears. Marilla came into view. She too was crying but she looked more upset than her sister,
"Oh, Draco, do not ever do that again! We were so scared!" She too embraced him, a little less hard than Arawen. She also did something very unexpected and kissed him on the cheek. It was then that Draco spotted with another jolt that the King and Queen were hurrying towards him. Marilla released him once they were close. Both of them were white-faced,
"Your Highnesses," Draco bowed, "please forgive my absence."
"Oh, never mind about that." The King waved a hand, speaking rather sharply, "What's happened? The Prince came about an hour ago. Was the battle not meant to take place at dawn?"
"Do not hassle Draco!" The Queen scolded, "Draco, what happened to you?"
"I'll tell you in a moment." Maltandir interrupted, coming out of nowhere from Draco's right, "Did the Prince say anything?"
"Nothing," The Queen looked a little puzzled, "except that, when Draco returned, he was to meet him in the servants' quarters. Oh, Verimir, he looked terrible! Has something dreadful happened?"
"Go on, Draco." Maltandir gave him a little push towards the doors, "You'd better go and get it over with. Remember, just tell him the truth."
Wishing more than ever that he could stay with the King and Queen, he strode towards the doors. He was glad of the many staircases now; this gave him time to structure an apology for Him. Elves passed him in the corridor but many actually pulled him aside to talk to him. They always asked him things along the lines of,
"What has happened?"
"Where is my brother? He left with the Akhohr?"
"My mother, is she alive?"
Draco could not answer any of them. He had not the heart to answer truthfully. So, he always answered, "There has been a battle. The Akhohr are at the camp." This was normally enough to let him go but others were more insistent and demanded more details. When this happened, he had to tell them that his Prince was expecting him and couldn't stay to talk.
Again, he arrived at his destination sooner than he thought he would. Before he knew it, he was standing outside the servants' quarters at Rhunithil. He took a deep breath. All advice Maltandir had given him rose to the surface but did not comfort him.
Slowly, he opened the door which thankfully stayed silent and down the corridor towards his room, which was at the very end. The floorboards too remained silent. Perhaps, they were scared of Him too. Leonas' and Arawen's doors were open, baring the fine comfort expressing their masters' respect for them. Something he would never know. He raised a shaking hand and knocked twice,
"Enter." His Prince's voice was not sharp but it was not gentle either.
Draco pushed the door open, with the same trepidation he would associate with ascending the gallows, and entered the room. His Prince was wearing the clothes Draco had brought him and he was standing in front of the closed window, blocking some of the morning light. His face was terrifying, full of cold fury. To his horror, Draco spotted all of the trinkets he had been given laid on his bed, all in an unceremonious jumble. The statue of Meleniel lay on top of all this, glinting guiltily in the sunlight,
"Good morning, M-my Prince." Draco tried not to sound frightened but the shake in his voice gave him away,
"There is nothing good to come of this morning." He replied, coldly, making Draco's spirits sink. He was not raising his voice but it was only the quiet before the storm. After turning away toward the window, he glanced back, "Tell me, Draco. Are you deaf?"
"No, Sire."
"Are you dumb?"
"No. Sire."
It happened in a flash. His Prince whirled around, hair flying, and glared at him, voice rising to a terrible shout, "THEN, HOW DARE YOU DISOBEY ME, AGAIN?"
"I-I'm sorry, Sire," Draco stuttered, shaken anew by His staggering wrath, "I d-did not mean to cause any-any trouble-"
"DID NOT MEAN TO?" He grabbed Draco by the scruff of the neck, planting a worry that He would strangle him into his mind, "WILL YOUR INTENTIONS ERASE YOUR PAST CRIMES? DO YOU THINK THAT, BECAUSE YOU DID NOT WILLINGLY GIVE ME TROUBLE, YOU WILL HAVE MY FORGIVENESS?"
"Please, Sire!" Tears were prickling his eyes again. He hardly knew what he was saying, now, but he had to say something, anything, to stop Him shouting, "I am your most devoted servant! I will follow you to the ends of the earth!"
"I CARE NOT!" His Prince thundered, "I CARE NOT OF WHETHER YOU WILL FOLLOW ME! I CARE OF WHETHER YOU WILL GIVE ME GOOD SERVICE! OH, WHAT A FOOL I WAS TO EVER CONSIDER YOUR EMPLOYMENT! ALL YOU HAVE DONE IS MAKE NEW PROBLEMS AND I HAVE TO SAVE YOU EVERY TIME SINCE NO ONE ELSE WILL!"
Their eyes made contact. Draco saw burning anger in them but, above all, he saw pain. He was upset, greatly upset by what had happened. Of course, he thought, forgetting his fear for a moment, he was the leader of the Akhohr. He must feel like he's let them down. Maybe he blames himself. Acting upon impulse, and very foolishly, he took hold of His shoulders and moved into him. His Prince's body was warm and had a wonderful scent but Draco could only enjoy it for a split second.
Out of nowhere, the back of His hand descended with lightening speed upon Draco's left cheek with such force that he was thrown to the floor. Tears stabbed more insistently at his eyes, not only because of the pain, "I AM NOT YOUR SAVIOUR!" He bellowed, "HOW DARE YOU TOUCH ME! DO NOT THINK THAT I AM GLAD OF SAVING YOU! FOUR TIMES I HAVE SNATCHED YOU FROM DOOM AND ALL FOR THIS!"
"F-forgive me, S-sire." Draco's voice shook with tears and his face crumpled pathetically. Then, he realised something, "I-it was you, Sire? Y-you saved me from-from the Drows?"
"And, would I have left you at their mercy!" He snapped. He was no longer shouting but his rage made the air tense. He whirled around and turned to the pile of objects. Draco's heart sank as he began to pick up random things, "Captured water from the falls of Tarion, a replica stone of Ramwe, a Pennand compass; treasures to fill a Nimohtar's pocket!" He threw the thing down and turned to the statue. Draco remembered that it had been stolen and a new dread came into him, "And this! A stolen statue from a false god!"
In a sudden burst of anger, he gripped the statue and flung in against the wall. The finely carved statue hit the stone and shattered into a thousand pieces. Draco gave a cry as though it had been he that was smashed. His Prince swooped down upon him and dragged him from the room, now screaming insults at him, "YOU ARE NOTHING BUT A WITLESS, STUMBLING MORTAL! EMPLOYING YOU WAS THE WORST DECISION I EVER MADE!" and other things Draco did not want to remember.
He was dragged along the junction of bridges between towers and into a terribly familiar corridor, "NEVER AGAIN SHALL YOU BLIGHT ME WITH YOUR PRESENCE! HERE, YOU SHALL ROT!" With that, He slammed the door of the bridge, leaving Draco in the white and gold halls of Numeranor. Draco had no power to shout after him. He could not even stand. All he could do was collapse in the corridor and weep into the marble.
Blood pounded in his ears all the way back to Rhunithil. Rage burned again within him and he cared not for the stares he received. All Hari wanted to do was punish him, punish the boy for being the cause of all this. He marched straight back to the boy's room and slammed the door behind him. The treasures he had found concealed within it glared maddeningly at him. He has horded these without my consent! He had kept them behind my back! They must be destroyed!
One by one, he seized each terrible item and threw it against the wall. The crashing and tinkle of them breaking was music to his ears. Every map was ripped to pieces and every artifact was smashed or broken until the floor was coated with their shards. It wasn't enough. His rage was not yet sated. In his now blind rage, he seized the sheets and tore them. Feathers from the mattress and pillows floated in the air, mocking him.
Finally, with a splintering of wood, the door broke and left Hari panting in the middle of the wreckage. His rage was dying down now. The silence seemed to calm it. But it was not silent for long. It was quiet at first and grew louder and louder. It was the sound of someone crying and not just anyone. He knew who it was. It was Draco, sobbing in pain and anguish,
What have I done? Hari's eyes widened at his own doing, I have hurt that which I love! I have grieved him and even struck him! Oh, Draco, do not weep so. Tears of guilt began to prick his eyes and the crying echoed in his head. One thing fixed itself in his brain, Get back to Draco. Release him and love him. Redeem yourself for having damaged him so. He turned but stopped dead.
A glowing figure towered over him and he had to duck to avoid the angry white dove that dive-bombed him. Meleniel stood before him, her face contorted with rage, her eyes like fire, "You disgust me. You have broken countless innocent hearts and have caused misery even to the one you love."
Fear shot through Hari. He fell to his knees before her, "Forgive me, Meleniel. I am justly regretful of my own misdeeds. I shall make amends now."
"No!" The dove dived at him again, halting his progress to the broken door, "You shall not see him until you have paid in suffering for all that which you caused. I would have released you to him had you not so callously denied my presence!" She jabbed a finger at him, "I lay upon you my most grievous curse of madness that you will hear the cries of those you have injured!"
A/N: Hari's really done it now. Those of you who don't like him will love this story from now on.