Amras the Stableboy
Chapter 11
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In the castle of Dol Amroth, Forlong of Lossarnach waited impatiently to see his lady love. She would soon be his, thought Forlong, thanks to his father's brilliant maneuvering of the situation.
Prince Imrahil politely offered him a goblet of wine, and Forlong accepted it with a gracious nod. Imrahil asked him about the famous encounter with Orcs that he'd had several months previously, and Forlong launched with enthusiasm into his favourite topic of conversation – himself.
Forlong described to Imrahil the special technique he used to effectively decapitate an orc, and then went on to recount in graphic detail the appearance of an orc that had been unfortunate enough to receive such treatment at his hands.
Imrahil listened, feeling slightly sick, to technical descriptions of Orc heads being expertly hewn off by the masterly strokes of Forlong's axe, followed by poetic descriptions of the blood gushing out of the necks of decapitated orcs. He listened with a look of admiration that gratified Forlong and inspired him to greater heights of eloquence.
If Finduilas married Forlong, Imrahil wondered what his nieces and nephews would be like. His sister might visit her family at Dol Amroth every winter with two portly axe-wielding sons, called Boromir the Bore and Faramir the Fat. Or would the older one be known as Boromir the Boar?
Imrahil looked up and was startled to see his mother signalling to him from the doorway. He excused himself and left the room under the pretext of fetching more wine.
"Imrahil, where is Finduilas," asked his mother in an agitated whisper.
"Did you look in her room," asked Imrahil. "I last saw her there."
"Yes," said his mother. "And I have looked in your room, and ours, too, and indeed I have searched the whole castle."
"Did you check the stables?" asked Imrahil.
His mother frowned at him in frustration. "This is no time to jest, Imrahil. Go at once and look for her!"
Imrahil went.
He could guess where his sister was, but he could not tell his mother about it.
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Imrahil's guess was right. Amras the stableboy had, in fact, gone for a run along the sands.
The affair of the Oliphaunt had delayed Forlong's arrival, and Finduilas, waiting alone in her room, had found herself getting increasingly nervous.
She knew that a good run along the sands would cure her of the present attack of nerves, but was there time for it?
Perhaps there was - she would be back as soon as she could...
Finduilas transformed herself into Amras in record time, and was soon running along the sands, humming a little tune to herself.
Her alternate identity opened up so many possibilities.
There was so much that Amras could do that Finduilas of Amroth could not.
Amras did not have to lead the caged existence of a beautiful lady. He could jump in the water - he could run along the beach, with the wind in his face. Sometimes, in his headlong rush, he would fall on his face in the sand. And he wouldn't bother to pick himself up. He'd simply roll over in the warm sand and look up at the gulls circling the air above him.
And then he'd eventually get up and run on... sometimes nimbly leaping out of the path of the rushing waves, sometimes jumping right into them, splashing water high into the air.
And then Amras would return home, wet tired, muddy and happy, with all his problems forgotten.
But on that particular day, Finduilas' problems could not so easily be forgotten.
Forlong would be arriving any moment, and she wasn't sure what she thought of him.
She did not dislike him. After all, he had paid her the compliment of falling in love with her, and he was the first man ever to have done so. But she somehow could not feel comfortable with him. Perhaps that was because his thinking and hers were so different. When they talked, it was a strain for Finduilas to find any common ground with him.
It did not seem right to reject him outright, as he was so ardent an admirer of hers. But somehow, she found the prospect of marrying him deeply disturbing... she could not explain why.
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Not knowing that his sister was on her way back, and was only a few minutes away from the castle, Imrahil made his apologies to Forlong.
"I regret that my sister is indisposed, and cannot see you now, my lord."
"I hope it is nothing serious!" said Forlong. "I have come all the way from Lossarnach, to see her, and..."
"She sends you her sincere regrets, my lord, and hopes that she will be well enough to meet you on the morrow."
Forlong of Lossarnach could not hide his disappointment, and it was only with difficulty that he stopped himself from erupting in anger at Finduilas' infuriating brother.
He and his father had just arrived and had been welcomed with a Guard of Honour by Prince Adrahil himself. After which, Imrahil had shown them to the luxurious wing of the castle that was to be their temporary home. Falagar, tired by the journey, had suggested that they meet with Prince Adrahil's family the next day. But Forlong, who had been impatient to meet Finduilas, had dressed himself up to the hilt and rushed off to meet her on his own.
And now, to say that he was disappointed was to put it mildly. He had endured a long conversation with Imrahil for Finduilas' sake, and all for nothing. Forlong was livid.
But his father had impressed upon him the importance of being on his best behaviour at Dol Amroth. "Forlong," he had said, "Try to be as charming and polite as you can, or you will lose the support of Finduilas' parents. And they might decide that you are not the right person for their daughter..."
Forlong managed to produce a strained smile.
"Please convey my regards to the lady Finduilas," he said, "I hope she will soon be well."
Imrahil gave Forlong a charming smile that infuriated him all the more.
"You are most kind -" he began, but Forlong cut him short by bowing low to him and stomping out of the room.
He did not immediately go back to his father. He needed some time to himself, first. So Forlong of Lossarnach saddled his horse and rode angrily down the road.
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Finduilas, in her Amras disguise, neatly leapt over a stile and ran at breakneck speed along the road to the castle, hoping she was not too late.
Hearing the sound of a horse's hooves approaching her, she stopped and looked up.
Forlong of Lossarnach paid no heed at first to the wet, muddy stableboy who stood by the road, watching him. But when he looked at the boy again, something about the rascal's wide-eyed stare infuriated him.
"Why do you stare so impudently at your betters?" he barked.
The boy shrugged, apologetically.
Forlong halted and glared at the boy, who reddened up to his ears.
"I am sorry, my lord," said the boy almost inaudibly.
But Forlong, who had been searching for an outlet for his anger, was glad to have found one.
He descended from his horse, advanced threateningly upon the boy, and all of a sudden, violently boxed his ears.
"Let that be a lesson to you," he snapped.
He turned on his heel, mounted his horse, assumed an expression of immense dignity, and rode on.
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