Ellen sila lumenn omentielvo, melloni!
This is ElfHuntressAutumnBurgundy wishing you a very good day, and
thanking you for your extremely highly valued patience. Just a few notes,
and I will then refer to you Chapter Twenty-Two. ***Translations of some of
the text used in this chapter run as follows: 'Kyrie, Christe,' I believe,
is Latin for 'Mercy, Christ.' 'Terra firma' is Latin for 'firm earth.'
'S'il Vous plait' is French for 'if You please' (and yes, both Vous and You
are supposed to be capitalized, as the 'You' in this instance refers to
God). Also, the word 'oped' is an archaic Shakespearean abbreviation for
'opened' and is NOT a typo.*** This chapter reveals a little about Megan.
Read her comments carefully before you make any assumptions about her
character. Also, I would like here to note that the character of Christina
(who is not in this chapter, but needs to be mentioned here) was modeled
after a friend of mine whom I had a great deal of respect for, and who gave
me permission to use her personality in this fic. Sadly, "Christina" has
passed away recently, and I would like for all of our readers please to
remember her family in their prayers. Phe-Chan and I have decided that, as
she did express her desire to be included in this fanfiction, it would not
be disrespectful to continue to use her character to bring people smiles.
Thank you for your prayer support.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Gil-galad had, from his brief talk with Sivi's father, judged Joseph to be a calm, reasonable man. Therefore, when Joseph, the young human boy, one of the human girls, and two unknown Elves rode straight out in front of the hooves of Elendil's mount, Gil-galad was too stunned to speak or to acknowledge the man. Elendil drew his sword before Gil-galad could stop him. In reply, Joseph yelled and pulled a small, sleek, black machine out from within his shirt. He pointed at the ground beneath Elendil's horse, pulled back a lever on top of the device, and touched a mechanism near the thing's base. A noise like a thunderclap rang out, a stone beneath Elendil's horse splintered into fragments, and the animal reared in terror. Joseph wheeled his horse around and made for the marshes. Without consulting the Elven-king, Elendil and his son followed.
"Your dad carries a gun?" Andrea whispered.
Sivi gave her friend a funny look.
"Duh, we live in New York City. Don't YOU carry a gun?"
Andrea stared.
"Oh, for crying out loud, don't look at me like that! We have permits," Sivi said in exasperation.
"Whatever," Andrea sighed, her head beginning to hurt for about the eleventh time that day. "What are they trying to do?"
"I think they were trying to get Gil-galad into the marshes and keep him there until we can manage to end the battle, but he's too level-headed to be goaded into such foolishness. Daddy should know that. I just hope those Elves, whoever they were, know their way around the marshes, or Daddy, Jeremie, and Megan are in trouble.
As it happened, Erynen and Erynsir had no idea how to navigate the marshes, but they were offering both their best efforts and their most fervent prayers. So was Megan, but for a strangely different reason. Her practicality and gentle sense of humanity mingled to worry her greatly on one point: they were riding HORSES through a BOG.
The poor beasts' hooves were sinking ankle-deep into the mire as with jerks so quick and frightened that they looked like a sored walking-horse's prancing, they attempted to safely traverse the swamp. Megan, a former native of the Deep South of the United States, where she and her family had kept horses, knew their peril. At this rate, it was only a matter of time before one of the mounts stumbled blindly into the middle of a sink-hole, and then nothing would save it.
"Mr. Joseph, not to be disrespectful, but - but this is crazy," she protested suddenly. "We're NOT in a fairy tale, and these horses CANNOT swim across a MARSH! This is cruel, inhumane, and just plain stupid! Well, I mean - I don't mean that; it's NOT stupid. It's just that we're desperate, and I understand that, really, I do, but - but -"
"I know, Meggie," Joseph replied, "but do we really have a choice?"
"Can't we let them go back and us go on on foot?"
"Listen, Lady Megan," Erynen said, impressed in spite of himself with Megan's concern for the animals, "you must see that they are in as much peril in going back as they would be in going on. Also, Elendil is proud. He will not abandon his mount, and should he overtake us, we are dead, and you are Isildur's."
"I'm WHAT?!" Megan shouted.
"Isildur will claim you, an if he can catch you," Erynsir nodded.
"Another point," Jeremie added, "is that - and I know this is going to sound awful, but it's true - if the horse begins to sink, the rider has an opportunity to save himself or herself."
"Yet an if you on foot should become mired down," Erynen continued for Jeremie, "there is precious little hope for you life."
Miserably, Megan nodded, patting her horse's neck with a regretful affection. Reluctantly, the group pressed onward. For some weeks, they traveled south and east without loss of human, elven, or animal life. The Hand of Providence was evident enough in this last blessing to have convinced the most defiant atheist, for ever the treacherous earth moved, shifted, sank, or collapsed beneath the mounts as the little band battled their way through at as fast a pace as they could safely avail themselves of. But in the mists they lost sight of Elendil and Isildur.
Elendil and his son were warriors, not trackers, but the deep prints in the broken, soupy earth were all too plain. Isildur was contemptuous of his "foes," but the fact that this was too easy made his more prudent father nervous. They proceeded, according to Elendil's direction, in a brisk but cautious manner.
It needs must be noted and retained that the horses of Elendil and his son sank all the more deeply into the grime because of the added weight of the men's armour and weaponry, as well as the thick-plated mail of the horses themselves.
The weeks passed as slowly for the two men as for "Joseph & Co.," and Elendil's good judgment waned from fatigue and temper. All this, then, in reparation for a single insult? It seemed to his mind that these trials punished him and his son more than the guilty party.
At last, they sighted the misfit band through the wretched tatters of a phantom fog. Elendil, angry and exhausted, left the path of wisdom and spurred his horse cruelly, straight through a gruesome black pool. Flailing and thrashing in a magnificent effort, the terrified animal wrestled its way to firmer ground and struggled to obey its master's most irrational commands. Isildur followed his father without question or comment.
By virtue of the distraught cries of Elendil's horse, Joseph and his friends were alerted to the king's presence.
"Looks like it's crunch time," Jeremie said, grabbing up the reins of his mount and ignoring the two Elves' quizzical expressions.
"We'll explain 'crunch-time' later," Joseph told Erynsir. "Let's go, people; now, now, now!"
"Kyrie, Christe," Megan pleaded aloud.
"And terra firma, s'il Vous plait," Jeremie added with a forced laugh.
The ensuing pursuit was like an Elven nightmare. The king and his son pushed their beasts beyond the limits of reasonable possibility, and Joseph and his friends were forced to do likewise to avoid destruction. The soil itself was at once their greatest ally and deadliest nemesis.
In one smooth yawn, it oped its cavernous maw to receive Gondor's king, who in his rage saw not his danger, and swallowed him whole. The ragged mist did him honour to become his burial shroud. Through the silence sliced the scream of a man who knows his father to be irrevocably lost.
Joseph and his friends stopped in their tracks, listening, but there was no more sound. Horrified, Megan let out a broken sob. Erynen drew his mount nearer hers and softly touched her arm in an admirable gesture of comfort.
"We were trying to RESCUE them," Jeremie whispered in a tone of icy shock.
"We... we can't stay here," Joseph said at length. "We need to go on."
Isildur thrust the blade of his sword into the soft earth before what had become his father's tomb with a nod of respect. He then took up Narsil, which Elendil's hand had loosed during his fall, mounted his steed, and rode sorrowfully away. Thus Elendil son of Amandil, forbear of Aragorn Estel, became the first terrible spectre of the Dead Marshes.
For Gil-galad and his armour-bearers, the Fire Mountain loomed closer.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Gil-galad had, from his brief talk with Sivi's father, judged Joseph to be a calm, reasonable man. Therefore, when Joseph, the young human boy, one of the human girls, and two unknown Elves rode straight out in front of the hooves of Elendil's mount, Gil-galad was too stunned to speak or to acknowledge the man. Elendil drew his sword before Gil-galad could stop him. In reply, Joseph yelled and pulled a small, sleek, black machine out from within his shirt. He pointed at the ground beneath Elendil's horse, pulled back a lever on top of the device, and touched a mechanism near the thing's base. A noise like a thunderclap rang out, a stone beneath Elendil's horse splintered into fragments, and the animal reared in terror. Joseph wheeled his horse around and made for the marshes. Without consulting the Elven-king, Elendil and his son followed.
"Your dad carries a gun?" Andrea whispered.
Sivi gave her friend a funny look.
"Duh, we live in New York City. Don't YOU carry a gun?"
Andrea stared.
"Oh, for crying out loud, don't look at me like that! We have permits," Sivi said in exasperation.
"Whatever," Andrea sighed, her head beginning to hurt for about the eleventh time that day. "What are they trying to do?"
"I think they were trying to get Gil-galad into the marshes and keep him there until we can manage to end the battle, but he's too level-headed to be goaded into such foolishness. Daddy should know that. I just hope those Elves, whoever they were, know their way around the marshes, or Daddy, Jeremie, and Megan are in trouble.
As it happened, Erynen and Erynsir had no idea how to navigate the marshes, but they were offering both their best efforts and their most fervent prayers. So was Megan, but for a strangely different reason. Her practicality and gentle sense of humanity mingled to worry her greatly on one point: they were riding HORSES through a BOG.
The poor beasts' hooves were sinking ankle-deep into the mire as with jerks so quick and frightened that they looked like a sored walking-horse's prancing, they attempted to safely traverse the swamp. Megan, a former native of the Deep South of the United States, where she and her family had kept horses, knew their peril. At this rate, it was only a matter of time before one of the mounts stumbled blindly into the middle of a sink-hole, and then nothing would save it.
"Mr. Joseph, not to be disrespectful, but - but this is crazy," she protested suddenly. "We're NOT in a fairy tale, and these horses CANNOT swim across a MARSH! This is cruel, inhumane, and just plain stupid! Well, I mean - I don't mean that; it's NOT stupid. It's just that we're desperate, and I understand that, really, I do, but - but -"
"I know, Meggie," Joseph replied, "but do we really have a choice?"
"Can't we let them go back and us go on on foot?"
"Listen, Lady Megan," Erynen said, impressed in spite of himself with Megan's concern for the animals, "you must see that they are in as much peril in going back as they would be in going on. Also, Elendil is proud. He will not abandon his mount, and should he overtake us, we are dead, and you are Isildur's."
"I'm WHAT?!" Megan shouted.
"Isildur will claim you, an if he can catch you," Erynsir nodded.
"Another point," Jeremie added, "is that - and I know this is going to sound awful, but it's true - if the horse begins to sink, the rider has an opportunity to save himself or herself."
"Yet an if you on foot should become mired down," Erynen continued for Jeremie, "there is precious little hope for you life."
Miserably, Megan nodded, patting her horse's neck with a regretful affection. Reluctantly, the group pressed onward. For some weeks, they traveled south and east without loss of human, elven, or animal life. The Hand of Providence was evident enough in this last blessing to have convinced the most defiant atheist, for ever the treacherous earth moved, shifted, sank, or collapsed beneath the mounts as the little band battled their way through at as fast a pace as they could safely avail themselves of. But in the mists they lost sight of Elendil and Isildur.
Elendil and his son were warriors, not trackers, but the deep prints in the broken, soupy earth were all too plain. Isildur was contemptuous of his "foes," but the fact that this was too easy made his more prudent father nervous. They proceeded, according to Elendil's direction, in a brisk but cautious manner.
It needs must be noted and retained that the horses of Elendil and his son sank all the more deeply into the grime because of the added weight of the men's armour and weaponry, as well as the thick-plated mail of the horses themselves.
The weeks passed as slowly for the two men as for "Joseph & Co.," and Elendil's good judgment waned from fatigue and temper. All this, then, in reparation for a single insult? It seemed to his mind that these trials punished him and his son more than the guilty party.
At last, they sighted the misfit band through the wretched tatters of a phantom fog. Elendil, angry and exhausted, left the path of wisdom and spurred his horse cruelly, straight through a gruesome black pool. Flailing and thrashing in a magnificent effort, the terrified animal wrestled its way to firmer ground and struggled to obey its master's most irrational commands. Isildur followed his father without question or comment.
By virtue of the distraught cries of Elendil's horse, Joseph and his friends were alerted to the king's presence.
"Looks like it's crunch time," Jeremie said, grabbing up the reins of his mount and ignoring the two Elves' quizzical expressions.
"We'll explain 'crunch-time' later," Joseph told Erynsir. "Let's go, people; now, now, now!"
"Kyrie, Christe," Megan pleaded aloud.
"And terra firma, s'il Vous plait," Jeremie added with a forced laugh.
The ensuing pursuit was like an Elven nightmare. The king and his son pushed their beasts beyond the limits of reasonable possibility, and Joseph and his friends were forced to do likewise to avoid destruction. The soil itself was at once their greatest ally and deadliest nemesis.
In one smooth yawn, it oped its cavernous maw to receive Gondor's king, who in his rage saw not his danger, and swallowed him whole. The ragged mist did him honour to become his burial shroud. Through the silence sliced the scream of a man who knows his father to be irrevocably lost.
Joseph and his friends stopped in their tracks, listening, but there was no more sound. Horrified, Megan let out a broken sob. Erynen drew his mount nearer hers and softly touched her arm in an admirable gesture of comfort.
"We were trying to RESCUE them," Jeremie whispered in a tone of icy shock.
"We... we can't stay here," Joseph said at length. "We need to go on."
Isildur thrust the blade of his sword into the soft earth before what had become his father's tomb with a nod of respect. He then took up Narsil, which Elendil's hand had loosed during his fall, mounted his steed, and rode sorrowfully away. Thus Elendil son of Amandil, forbear of Aragorn Estel, became the first terrible spectre of the Dead Marshes.
For Gil-galad and his armour-bearers, the Fire Mountain loomed closer.