Disclaimer: "I don't own anything that Tolkien hasn't already bagged for
himself and his imagination!"
Echoes of the Narbeleth
Spirit Star
Chapter 14: In which gifts are deceiving
"Will my father be here soon?" Adariel asked the maid as she was dressed in a fine dress of dark, almost black, blue. The maid pushed her this way and that to get a better fitting on her sleeves.
"Well, will he?" Adariel snapped impatiently. The maid had not said a word since she had arrived and Adariel was starting to think her mute.
The maid whispered something, her fine brown eyes quivering with sudden fear and apprehension as if she had suddenly remembered what position she was in. Her lips murmured something that failed to reach Adariel's ears, and cast her eyes down toward her work in a display of humbleness.
Adariel decided to soften her approach.
"I'm sorry," Adariel said gently to the maid through her growing frustration. "I am very tired. Please. Will my father be here soon?"
The maid was either lulled by the changed tone of her mistress, or thought that her display of humbleness was a weak cover, but her reply this time was audible if not nearly shouted. "He will be back soon, as he is on a hunt right now."
"Oh," Adariel said, recovering from the sudden loudness from the timid maid. "But there is nothing to hunt in this dark wood!"
There was silence once again, in answer to her question. Adariel glared sharply at the maid, who was backing out of the room. The dress was complete about her, and Adariel felt a heavy circlet touching her forehead. It was cool and smooth like a halo of silver. But it burnt into her skin like blue flame.
The room was brighter than Adariel had expected, and the layout was much like her old one. Except the view from the window, of course. There were no familiar leaves hanging outside the open window, and instead, the smell of acid and melting metal met her. There was muffled noise from below, high up as she was.
Her black-blue dress hugged her figure in a way that made her uncomfortable. It was as if she was to be shown off, and it was a feeling that she didn't like. At least there was a hood to hide her face with. She was given that luxury at least. The sleeves were purposefully torn in graceful patterns by hand, and so was the hem that flowed in generous bunches on the hard floor.
She was barefooted under the layers of soft, velvet lace. This alone, gave her some comfort, some reminder of freedom that was never truly hers. She had merely been going around in circles.
From her place directly in front of the window, she could see almost nothing, despite the light from the setting sun. The deep, dug valley below was covered in a fog of clay-brown dust that had unsettled itself. It was almost impossible to see into it. Here and there, hazy shapes at higher altitudes could be made out vaguely moving at great speed.
Stepping down from the fitting stool she was still standing upon, Adariel hitched up the hem of her dress and walked with growing unease down out of her chamber and along the empty hallway. There was a place where she could look down several floors to different parts of the unfamiliar building, and she paused there.
Directly down, gazing several floors below her, Adariel could see the great table set out in the middle of the hall that she had known was the throne room. On the table were many covered dishes and plates wrought of dark metals. She vaguely wondered where the beautiful carved yew-wood plates had gone, and quickly cleared the sudden harsh image of a burning flame that ignited in her mind's eye.
Her head hidden inside the fine, elaborately fashioned black-blue dress hood, she made her feet glide over the cold floors, touching it as little as possible. The hem of her dress swished annoyingly behind her, suddenly loud in the echoing silence. There was no living creature in sight, and Adariel wondered where all the maids were. Usually, there was one tagging right behind her.
The room next to hers was empty, but peering into chamber after chamber, Adariel could not make out anything except for books and shelves full of dresses and gowns that seemed to be of her size. There was a room with a loom and also one with thread of all colors spread out neatly on the floor and a needle and embroidery frame in the middle.
One room had bells that jangled harshly and a pipe that made distorted sounds when blown upon. There was a room where images of the glory of the battlefields were imprinted firmly on the walls, each with the One Eye staring straight at Adariel. She walked out rather quickly.
After several chambers of nameless items that Adariel had probably come in contact with at least once in her life, she concluded that the whole floor was reserved for herself and nobody else. Maids and servants included. It was no longer a great surprise that there seemed nobody else in the hallway. She was the only one permitted on the floor.
The stairway curved jaggedly and casually downward. It was steep, and had no elegance in presentation. The silver metal gleamed in unnatural stupor. As her feet hit each one, there rang out no sound. The staircase descended evenly, if not sparingly, down the several floors. Adariel explored each one, ignoring its inhabitants.
They seemed not to notice her as she walked slowly and silently past them. Nobody spoke, except on necessity. A general dislike and distrust hung in the air. Her finery was hidden in the dreary light and the dark worn colors of the cloth of her dress. She melted into the gloom like a restless spirit melted into shadow.
She noticed the difference between all the other floors and her own immediately. All the other floors, with the exception of the bottom landing, had marble and not metal floors. When her feet padded softly on the smooth, cold and forgiving marble as she got off the last step toward the floor below hers, she noticed the change immediately.
Eltheran was cunning indeed: he had fitted metal floors to alert the guards if ever she tried to escape again. The armory was the floor below hers, where all the guards were situated.
There were many elves and orcs wearing full battle gear there, each glaring silently at the other. Adariel felt open curiosity follow her footsteps whenever she entered a chamber. The unwavering stare of the inhabitants of the room gazed after her whenever she departed or entered, then relaxed again.
There were many swords, shields and various other weapons hanging on the walls of the rooms painted a rusty copper. These were the storage rooms of ruthless devices of torture or pain and they hung discriminatingly on the roughly made hooks along the walls. Adariel backed out of these rooms immediately, her eyes down cast and her imagination flowing.
It was when Adariel was in what looked like a large briefing hall on the armory floor that there was a loud noise that came from someplace straight down below her feet. The sound of slow, but steady and heavy footsteps. It seemed, a great host of people had returned and with them, her father as heralded by the loud sound of shouts and the scurry of movement.
Her suspicions were confirmed sudden arrival of dozen or more elves that walked into the briefing hall with charred leaves in their hair, freshly stolen off unsuspecting trees. Their manner was stern and their eyes were shielded and a strange cloudiness swirled about in their permanently widened pupils.
The first bowed low, and without looking up, said "Princess, the King wishes an audience with you immediately in the throne chamber. I am to escort you."
Adariel felt slightly surprised at the urgency of the request, thinking of no reason that Eltheran might want to speak to her before dinner. Her silence was taken as consent, and a slender hand reached out and tugged stiffly at her wrist. Adariel righted her balance and followed at the pace that the intruding elf had set.
The swift strides down the round staircase past different floors made Adariel slightly dizzy, if not apprehensive. The floors flew by in flashes of gray and marble and as her foot rounded the last step, the momentum sent her forward a couple of more paces in front of the elf that had led her. He had stopped, and stood quite still as if waiting.
Adariel saw that they were outside the large iron doors of the throne room.
The elf and the orc that guarded the chamber threw open the doors in a failed attempt at unison (the orc was slower, and more sluggish). The heavy doors swung open with a soundless strain and were held on the other side by two other guards on the inside. The elf next to Adariel bowed low and, with a discreet shove sent Adariel into the dark room.
No sooner than when the iron doors shut themselves again did Adariel hear a cheerful shout from the front of the room. "I see that you have my message! How marvelous of Areand to find you so swiftly." Eltheran called as he descended from the raised throne. The small stool beside him sat another hunched orc, eyes shining in the darkness and pupils dilated.
Eltheran saw Adariel gazing at the creature and casually swept a hand across to the foul thing, "Ah, yes, this is Urogkuul. You see, I was correct in saying that there is always one of them foolish enough to sit upon that stool and await certain death."
Urogkuul spat and hissed quietly at the comment, but said nothing.
"You wanted private audience?" Adariel reminded him.
"Of course," he replied swiftly but made no motion of explaining the reason.
"Father!" Adariel exclaimed, trying to break the silence. "How you tease me! I am not at all patient in matters such as these, and your messenger had caught me by surprise. Do not torture me now, as I shall not let you forget it any time soon…take care, Sir!"
Dark, moody laughter filled the chamber and echoed in the created darkness. Adariel felt surprised, as she had not found her exclamation in any way humorous at all. Eltheran motioned Urogkuul and the inner guards to leave.
"Excuse me!" Adariel said indignantly as the laughter receded and the last guard had left silently. "I was perfectly serious, I assure you."
"Indeed!" gasped Eltheran when the last of the echoing had disappeared. "Please find my humble apologies…and now for our conversation to reach the point, I shall be quite frank. We are to have a special feast in honor of your return (if Eltheran noticed Adariel's shudder here, then he did not show it) and as the guest of honor I must caution you to dress formally. I see you have already picked out a suitable gown, and I commend you for the good choice. It is perfect for the occasion tonight."
"Oh…" Adariel managed to say, somewhat surprised by the seemingly pointless conversation and hardly deeming it important enough for a private audience. "Is that all? May I take my leave now? I have much to do."
"Yes, go!" Eltheran said, suddenly impatient. "And mind you do not soil your gown before tonight. Now walk away from here and stray. I have some important business to attend to."
"As you wish," Adariel said as she bowed herself out of the chamber.
It only occurred to her as she entered her own chamber again on the topmost floor how odd it was for Eltheran to request that she avoid a certain part of the dwelling. Usually, he confided matters of the state in her as he thought her wise enough and experienced enough for her years to handle things. It was what she had been trained to do, as successor to her father.
'I wonder,' Adariel pondered as she started to turn back to the staircase, 'what is happening that is so important that I am to be excluded. Does he suspect?'
She had intended to head back discreetly down the stairs and explore a way to the throne chamber, but as her first footstep landed with a soft patter on the hard metal, she felt a flurry of activity rise. There was unseen movement below her floor and it was not a second later that an alarmed handmaiden appeared suddenly bowed on the ground in front of her.
Adariel gasped in surprise at the sudden appearance of three more.
"Forgive me, Lady!" gasped the first when she had recovered her breath. "We had forgotten…we were to make some – " She paused and frowned. "Some…"
"Some alterations to your gown!" the second said sincerely. The others nodded their heads once in agreement.
"Really," Adariel said dryly as she was pushed and pulled into the room and made to stand upon the dreaded stool.
"Be still!" cried the first handmaid, a delicate antique silver ribbon fluttering as she spoke. "You will ruin such a beautiful dress!"
And though Adariel's protests turned into orders, and orders into threats, they would not be swayed in their united effort to 'make adjustments to her gown'. They added ribbons and embroidered simple but intricate patterns to the hem. They made changes to her sleeves and did and redid her hair.
Adariel was not fooled, but bore it with noble indifference. All the while, she simpered with intense but cautious curiosity. It was certain in her mind that these maids had been set up to distract her or to delay her. Eltheran had anticipated her movement; he knew her too well.
Only by the sound of the echoing bell that called them all to dine did the handmaidens leave her, claiming that their work was complete. The flattery that followed found deaf ears. Adariel would not hear them. Her hood was thrown up to cover her eyes, and she examined herself one last time.
The shredded style of the gown did her figure justice. It flowed in all the right places and revealed and covered the delicate shades of her smooth, creamy complexion. The four handmaids positioned themselves in the four corners surrounding her person and Adariel was captured in the momentum of the practiced walk that descended the great stairs that lead in another direction to the dining hall.
A curtain had been thrown over the large archway and Adariel impatiently waited in the relatively small sitting room that was joined to the hall. It was barely enough to fit them all, and was crudely made as if built as an afterthought. There was only one soft cushioned seat in the room directly facing the curtains on an accented stand.
The handmaidens were whispering softly to each other, and the thick curtains muffled the sounds from the hall. Then, suddenly, a great light sprung into the room and Adariel found herself facing a room full of expectant faces both foul and fair. She herself was on a raised platform that had a smooth ramp-like descent. The curtains had fallen gracefully to the sides of the archway and the handmaidens started to move forward.
Adariel thought it extremely lucky that her hood was up so that the staring figures could not see her look of utter loathing tinged with unease. She was not used to such a measure of company.
The place to the left of Eltheran at the high table was empty, and as Adariel drew close to it, she saw a red cushion positioned artfully on the seat. To Eltheran's right sat the dreaded Urogkuul advisor. Nobody moved until she had (with purposely slowed movements) sat down.
The hall was still silent, then, "All of you! Stand, and stand in the graceful beauty that thy Fair Maiden presents. Toast to the returned one!" Eltheran cried, and he stood up and drained his goblet.
In unison, the diners below rose from their seats and repeated his exclamation, then several of their own to the good health of the said Princess.
The feast wore on with all of the usual boredom that was incorporated in such public events. Adariel scarcely touched her food, and only pretended to eat dishes that looked like they were in the least bit edible. Her disgust at seeing the way the orcs guzzled down anything and everything made her stomach squirm. But as all events that go by in the world, time announced an end to the feast.
Suddenly, Eltheran stood and stared around the hall. Everybody was immediately silent.
'They have been well trained,' Adariel thought sadly, 'or, perhaps, thoroughly brain washed.'
"Yes, I am sure that the Princess is glad to be back in our society," Eltheran began, and here Adariel made herself bow her head rather stiffly in acknowledgment, "but I feel that she is yet still a stranger to our ways. Have we not changed much over the year? Have we not taken our steps toward a greater future for our remaining kind in faith that we will be united under the power of Sauron himself?"
An uncertain roar of approval swelled slowly, then died away.
"Yes," Eltheran stressed, then continued. "It is to the credit of the Princess Adariel to experience our ways that we have come to choose, which is why…we have a gift to her to welcome her back into our much changed company."
The orcs and the changed ones applauded. The 'free' elves did not.
Adariel suddenly felt apprehensive and stopped herself from fidgeting in her seat. She did not like the idea of a gift announced so publicly. Was it not enough for him to give it to her privately? Had he wanted to present it to her in the private audience earlier and changed his mind? And the orcs were applauding. Why were the orcs applauding?
Eltheran did not make a move to speak on, and with a start, Adariel realized he was waiting for her response. 'I will satisfy, for now,' she thought to herself.
Aloud, she said, "How cruel you are to make me wait in such anticipation for a gift given so freely! Pray tell, what may it be?"
"I am glad to see you so delighted!" Eltheran said, satisfied with the spoilt tone of her voice. "Bring in the 'gift'!"
Instead of seeing some item brought in on a tray as she had expected, Adariel heard the moaning and clanking of heavy chains scrapping the floor from afar. There was no need express her surprise, or her horror. It was clear in her manner. Adariel clamped a hand over her mouth automatically and did not see the twisted smile that Eltheran gave her.
Slowly, ever slowly, dark shapes formed in the corridor that had opened up. Two confident walking elvish shapes could bee seen, each dragging something harshly. Then Adariel made out shapes in the darkness walking with determined defiance. They were but a blur at first, and she did not recognize them until they were near the light of the hall.
And then she gasped as softly as she could.
Aragorn. Gimli. Boromir. And Legolas.
The lurch her heart did upon the sight of Legolas was similar to the one that she had felt outside of the tunnels of Moria, except more violent. A small voice in her mind sang tauntingly: 'you love him! You're hopelessly in love with him! Your admiration knows no bounds! Your heart belongs to him –'
And equally strong voice in her head cut it off, and with a cruel sneer said: 'what do you know? You are the heart, and you know no reason, whereas I am the creator of Logic.'
'Absence makes the heart grow fonder…' sang the other voice.
'Only the stupid fall in love…' said the second, until Adariel found herself suddenly upon her feet.
The whole room was looking at her, including her friends, dirtied and stained with the rusty color of blood. Adariel wondered why their expressions did not change upon the sight of her, then she remembered that her hood was up and that she was dressed in dark shades.
"Is something the matter, Princess?" Eltheran was studying her carefully. Adariel did not trust her voice to speak so she only waved her satisfaction, or what she hoped would be taken for agreement.
"These prisoners are at your disposal, my dear!" Eltheran announced with an easy smile touching his face. "Do as you please with them, they are yours entirely. But I warn you. Only one of them is immortal! The humans and the dwarf do not keep long. Better to rid of them all when you grow tired of them."
There was a commotion and a heavy clanging of chains. It was Gimli who stepped forward, and shouted with unchecked rage, "You traitors, all of you! Us dwarves who you have long since looked upon with an air of haughtiness…we would never disgrace our kin with such an act –" here he was cut off by the knife at his throat. Several laughed uneasily at his outburst, and Eltheran glared.
Turning to Adariel, Eltheran said, "I had built a room while you were in private audience downstairs for these prisoners to be kept. They are just off your chamber, so you may do as you please with them."
So THAT'S what the empty room next to hers was for.
"I thank you kindly," Adariel said, pitching her voice to be higher than usual, and grateful that he had not announced her name. Then she remembered that her name was never spoken publicly, and was relieved. "And I shall see what I may do with these…things. 'Tis such a gift, and I thank you for it."
"Of course, of course!" Eltheran clapped his hands. "And now, we must go back. There is much work to be done here. Morladris never sleeps."
At his bidding, the feast broke up, and he turned back to his daughter. "They have been taken to your floor, Adariel. I shall give you the privacy to having them the first night, and should anything happen, I have posted guards near your chamber. But I do not doubt your skill to defend yourself!"
Adariel nodded, but said, "How came you to know that I could wield a weapon?"
"Come now!" Eltheran stepped back to an impersonal distance, at ease with himself in the empty room. "You do not expect me to not notice the arrows that went missing mysteriously from the guards quarters in the earlier years?"
This surprised a slight laugh from Adariel, and she immediately cut it off.
"Well, I must take my leave, Dear One. Toy with them tonight and see how you like the feel of power between your fingertips. You will come to love it, I am sure and then you shall understand my motives for the joining of the Army of the One Eye." And he left, handing her a small, silver key.
The rustling from the newly converted chamber next to hers was unbearable, especially since Adariel understood who was in the gloomy darkness. As her footsteps drew near, a tense stillness came from the locked room. Adariel paused outside the door. It had only one barred slit to look through, and it was too dark for her to see inside. But she did not doubt them to be staring hard at her.
She opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it and moved on until she stopped at the doorway of her chamber. Changing her mind, she turned back and took out the key that hung from her neck.
At the sound of the slight jingling of the silver key, there was a flurry of whispers that flew back and forth in the room. Adariel had to smile. They were planning escape when she opened the door, seeing as she was alone.
"Do not try it," she said as icily as she could. "There are more guards here than then entire army of Saruman."
"I would rather die," came a voice from within, "than serve one who would have all my kin slaughtered." The hatred in the tone was like a slap to Adariel, and she drew back, key waving back and forth from her hand. She could almost feel the gaze upon the key.
"I will let you out now," Adariel said.
"Do what you will," said the voice of Gimli. "But I shall warn you, 'fair' lady, that we shall do what WE will too."
Adariel suddenly had an idea. She could tell someone she trusted her secret, and then perhaps they could work together to formulate a plan out. It was too late for herself, she acknowledged, but somehow there had got to be a way to release her charges. But who to confide too?
The first name that came into her head was Aragorn, and reason picked him first. But reason was twisted by emotion, and the image of the word ARAGORN soon transformed themselves to make LEGOLAS in her mind. She frowned, confused. Who to choose? Better to go with her head, or her heart?
And why was she making such a fuss on such a small decision.
"Guards!" she called softly, as not to raise too much of an alarm. There were immediately four by her side, looking dully at her.
The prisoners cursed and re-cursed them all. The guards paid no heed.
"The prisoner Legolas is to come with me."
It was with difficulty that the doors could be opened, and knife tips gleamed in the dim light. The initial struggle died down to quietness as each prisoner found a sharp tip at their throat. Legolas stepped forward voluntarily, unwilling to see his companions suffer.
The doors clanged shut after him, and he faced the hooded, feminine figure of his captor.
"Take us down to the lake, and then you are to leave us alone at the tunnel of the path. Leave me a blade and be assured that I may defend myself, if need be." Adariel ordered. The sneer of hatred on Legolas's face was heartaching. She longed to shake him and say that she was not who she appeared to be.
"I will never EVER submit to your treatment!" he spat at her. "I shall die first!"
The guard behind him pushed him roughly forward, and they started down the iron staircase and headed through the doors that lead outside the great building. The night air was warm from the heat of the metal melting fires. The stench of work drifted past them as they walked on, with Adariel in the lead to the rounding tunnel that Eltheran had first showed her.
They wound upwards in that torchlit spiral and stopped as the cool night air met them. The moon was up through the trees, and the lake gleamed and reflected the frosty starlight. The grass was a dark green, and wind was picking up.
Legolas gasped at the small display of beauty amongst the black hatred and destruction. He did not hear the hooded lady whisper to the guards as she took a sword from one of them,
"Leave us."
1.1 End of Chapter 14
Reviews please! NO FLAMES but constructive criticism is very welcome! –Spirit Star
Yeah! Back from camp! Anyway, considering the diminishing cuts and bruises on my leg, I have to say that it was not as bad an experience as I had thought!
Anyway, maybe I WILL change the rating to PG-13. But don't think it'll go any higher than that in the next chapter! They're not going to do something worthy of an R any time soon (sorry)! But maybe I'll think about it…
Sorry about the short chapter but I've got school tomorrow, but I had last Friday off coz the teachers were on strike AGAIN! Yeah!!! Lucky me!
Oh, and I got the Sindarin dictionary in pdf form but I totally forgot where I got it from…sorry. Search around on the net. I'm sure you'll find it. It's supposed to be really popular. I do remember that you have to register to get it though…
Echoes of the Narbeleth
Spirit Star
Chapter 14: In which gifts are deceiving
"Will my father be here soon?" Adariel asked the maid as she was dressed in a fine dress of dark, almost black, blue. The maid pushed her this way and that to get a better fitting on her sleeves.
"Well, will he?" Adariel snapped impatiently. The maid had not said a word since she had arrived and Adariel was starting to think her mute.
The maid whispered something, her fine brown eyes quivering with sudden fear and apprehension as if she had suddenly remembered what position she was in. Her lips murmured something that failed to reach Adariel's ears, and cast her eyes down toward her work in a display of humbleness.
Adariel decided to soften her approach.
"I'm sorry," Adariel said gently to the maid through her growing frustration. "I am very tired. Please. Will my father be here soon?"
The maid was either lulled by the changed tone of her mistress, or thought that her display of humbleness was a weak cover, but her reply this time was audible if not nearly shouted. "He will be back soon, as he is on a hunt right now."
"Oh," Adariel said, recovering from the sudden loudness from the timid maid. "But there is nothing to hunt in this dark wood!"
There was silence once again, in answer to her question. Adariel glared sharply at the maid, who was backing out of the room. The dress was complete about her, and Adariel felt a heavy circlet touching her forehead. It was cool and smooth like a halo of silver. But it burnt into her skin like blue flame.
The room was brighter than Adariel had expected, and the layout was much like her old one. Except the view from the window, of course. There were no familiar leaves hanging outside the open window, and instead, the smell of acid and melting metal met her. There was muffled noise from below, high up as she was.
Her black-blue dress hugged her figure in a way that made her uncomfortable. It was as if she was to be shown off, and it was a feeling that she didn't like. At least there was a hood to hide her face with. She was given that luxury at least. The sleeves were purposefully torn in graceful patterns by hand, and so was the hem that flowed in generous bunches on the hard floor.
She was barefooted under the layers of soft, velvet lace. This alone, gave her some comfort, some reminder of freedom that was never truly hers. She had merely been going around in circles.
From her place directly in front of the window, she could see almost nothing, despite the light from the setting sun. The deep, dug valley below was covered in a fog of clay-brown dust that had unsettled itself. It was almost impossible to see into it. Here and there, hazy shapes at higher altitudes could be made out vaguely moving at great speed.
Stepping down from the fitting stool she was still standing upon, Adariel hitched up the hem of her dress and walked with growing unease down out of her chamber and along the empty hallway. There was a place where she could look down several floors to different parts of the unfamiliar building, and she paused there.
Directly down, gazing several floors below her, Adariel could see the great table set out in the middle of the hall that she had known was the throne room. On the table were many covered dishes and plates wrought of dark metals. She vaguely wondered where the beautiful carved yew-wood plates had gone, and quickly cleared the sudden harsh image of a burning flame that ignited in her mind's eye.
Her head hidden inside the fine, elaborately fashioned black-blue dress hood, she made her feet glide over the cold floors, touching it as little as possible. The hem of her dress swished annoyingly behind her, suddenly loud in the echoing silence. There was no living creature in sight, and Adariel wondered where all the maids were. Usually, there was one tagging right behind her.
The room next to hers was empty, but peering into chamber after chamber, Adariel could not make out anything except for books and shelves full of dresses and gowns that seemed to be of her size. There was a room with a loom and also one with thread of all colors spread out neatly on the floor and a needle and embroidery frame in the middle.
One room had bells that jangled harshly and a pipe that made distorted sounds when blown upon. There was a room where images of the glory of the battlefields were imprinted firmly on the walls, each with the One Eye staring straight at Adariel. She walked out rather quickly.
After several chambers of nameless items that Adariel had probably come in contact with at least once in her life, she concluded that the whole floor was reserved for herself and nobody else. Maids and servants included. It was no longer a great surprise that there seemed nobody else in the hallway. She was the only one permitted on the floor.
The stairway curved jaggedly and casually downward. It was steep, and had no elegance in presentation. The silver metal gleamed in unnatural stupor. As her feet hit each one, there rang out no sound. The staircase descended evenly, if not sparingly, down the several floors. Adariel explored each one, ignoring its inhabitants.
They seemed not to notice her as she walked slowly and silently past them. Nobody spoke, except on necessity. A general dislike and distrust hung in the air. Her finery was hidden in the dreary light and the dark worn colors of the cloth of her dress. She melted into the gloom like a restless spirit melted into shadow.
She noticed the difference between all the other floors and her own immediately. All the other floors, with the exception of the bottom landing, had marble and not metal floors. When her feet padded softly on the smooth, cold and forgiving marble as she got off the last step toward the floor below hers, she noticed the change immediately.
Eltheran was cunning indeed: he had fitted metal floors to alert the guards if ever she tried to escape again. The armory was the floor below hers, where all the guards were situated.
There were many elves and orcs wearing full battle gear there, each glaring silently at the other. Adariel felt open curiosity follow her footsteps whenever she entered a chamber. The unwavering stare of the inhabitants of the room gazed after her whenever she departed or entered, then relaxed again.
There were many swords, shields and various other weapons hanging on the walls of the rooms painted a rusty copper. These were the storage rooms of ruthless devices of torture or pain and they hung discriminatingly on the roughly made hooks along the walls. Adariel backed out of these rooms immediately, her eyes down cast and her imagination flowing.
It was when Adariel was in what looked like a large briefing hall on the armory floor that there was a loud noise that came from someplace straight down below her feet. The sound of slow, but steady and heavy footsteps. It seemed, a great host of people had returned and with them, her father as heralded by the loud sound of shouts and the scurry of movement.
Her suspicions were confirmed sudden arrival of dozen or more elves that walked into the briefing hall with charred leaves in their hair, freshly stolen off unsuspecting trees. Their manner was stern and their eyes were shielded and a strange cloudiness swirled about in their permanently widened pupils.
The first bowed low, and without looking up, said "Princess, the King wishes an audience with you immediately in the throne chamber. I am to escort you."
Adariel felt slightly surprised at the urgency of the request, thinking of no reason that Eltheran might want to speak to her before dinner. Her silence was taken as consent, and a slender hand reached out and tugged stiffly at her wrist. Adariel righted her balance and followed at the pace that the intruding elf had set.
The swift strides down the round staircase past different floors made Adariel slightly dizzy, if not apprehensive. The floors flew by in flashes of gray and marble and as her foot rounded the last step, the momentum sent her forward a couple of more paces in front of the elf that had led her. He had stopped, and stood quite still as if waiting.
Adariel saw that they were outside the large iron doors of the throne room.
The elf and the orc that guarded the chamber threw open the doors in a failed attempt at unison (the orc was slower, and more sluggish). The heavy doors swung open with a soundless strain and were held on the other side by two other guards on the inside. The elf next to Adariel bowed low and, with a discreet shove sent Adariel into the dark room.
No sooner than when the iron doors shut themselves again did Adariel hear a cheerful shout from the front of the room. "I see that you have my message! How marvelous of Areand to find you so swiftly." Eltheran called as he descended from the raised throne. The small stool beside him sat another hunched orc, eyes shining in the darkness and pupils dilated.
Eltheran saw Adariel gazing at the creature and casually swept a hand across to the foul thing, "Ah, yes, this is Urogkuul. You see, I was correct in saying that there is always one of them foolish enough to sit upon that stool and await certain death."
Urogkuul spat and hissed quietly at the comment, but said nothing.
"You wanted private audience?" Adariel reminded him.
"Of course," he replied swiftly but made no motion of explaining the reason.
"Father!" Adariel exclaimed, trying to break the silence. "How you tease me! I am not at all patient in matters such as these, and your messenger had caught me by surprise. Do not torture me now, as I shall not let you forget it any time soon…take care, Sir!"
Dark, moody laughter filled the chamber and echoed in the created darkness. Adariel felt surprised, as she had not found her exclamation in any way humorous at all. Eltheran motioned Urogkuul and the inner guards to leave.
"Excuse me!" Adariel said indignantly as the laughter receded and the last guard had left silently. "I was perfectly serious, I assure you."
"Indeed!" gasped Eltheran when the last of the echoing had disappeared. "Please find my humble apologies…and now for our conversation to reach the point, I shall be quite frank. We are to have a special feast in honor of your return (if Eltheran noticed Adariel's shudder here, then he did not show it) and as the guest of honor I must caution you to dress formally. I see you have already picked out a suitable gown, and I commend you for the good choice. It is perfect for the occasion tonight."
"Oh…" Adariel managed to say, somewhat surprised by the seemingly pointless conversation and hardly deeming it important enough for a private audience. "Is that all? May I take my leave now? I have much to do."
"Yes, go!" Eltheran said, suddenly impatient. "And mind you do not soil your gown before tonight. Now walk away from here and stray. I have some important business to attend to."
"As you wish," Adariel said as she bowed herself out of the chamber.
It only occurred to her as she entered her own chamber again on the topmost floor how odd it was for Eltheran to request that she avoid a certain part of the dwelling. Usually, he confided matters of the state in her as he thought her wise enough and experienced enough for her years to handle things. It was what she had been trained to do, as successor to her father.
'I wonder,' Adariel pondered as she started to turn back to the staircase, 'what is happening that is so important that I am to be excluded. Does he suspect?'
She had intended to head back discreetly down the stairs and explore a way to the throne chamber, but as her first footstep landed with a soft patter on the hard metal, she felt a flurry of activity rise. There was unseen movement below her floor and it was not a second later that an alarmed handmaiden appeared suddenly bowed on the ground in front of her.
Adariel gasped in surprise at the sudden appearance of three more.
"Forgive me, Lady!" gasped the first when she had recovered her breath. "We had forgotten…we were to make some – " She paused and frowned. "Some…"
"Some alterations to your gown!" the second said sincerely. The others nodded their heads once in agreement.
"Really," Adariel said dryly as she was pushed and pulled into the room and made to stand upon the dreaded stool.
"Be still!" cried the first handmaid, a delicate antique silver ribbon fluttering as she spoke. "You will ruin such a beautiful dress!"
And though Adariel's protests turned into orders, and orders into threats, they would not be swayed in their united effort to 'make adjustments to her gown'. They added ribbons and embroidered simple but intricate patterns to the hem. They made changes to her sleeves and did and redid her hair.
Adariel was not fooled, but bore it with noble indifference. All the while, she simpered with intense but cautious curiosity. It was certain in her mind that these maids had been set up to distract her or to delay her. Eltheran had anticipated her movement; he knew her too well.
Only by the sound of the echoing bell that called them all to dine did the handmaidens leave her, claiming that their work was complete. The flattery that followed found deaf ears. Adariel would not hear them. Her hood was thrown up to cover her eyes, and she examined herself one last time.
The shredded style of the gown did her figure justice. It flowed in all the right places and revealed and covered the delicate shades of her smooth, creamy complexion. The four handmaids positioned themselves in the four corners surrounding her person and Adariel was captured in the momentum of the practiced walk that descended the great stairs that lead in another direction to the dining hall.
A curtain had been thrown over the large archway and Adariel impatiently waited in the relatively small sitting room that was joined to the hall. It was barely enough to fit them all, and was crudely made as if built as an afterthought. There was only one soft cushioned seat in the room directly facing the curtains on an accented stand.
The handmaidens were whispering softly to each other, and the thick curtains muffled the sounds from the hall. Then, suddenly, a great light sprung into the room and Adariel found herself facing a room full of expectant faces both foul and fair. She herself was on a raised platform that had a smooth ramp-like descent. The curtains had fallen gracefully to the sides of the archway and the handmaidens started to move forward.
Adariel thought it extremely lucky that her hood was up so that the staring figures could not see her look of utter loathing tinged with unease. She was not used to such a measure of company.
The place to the left of Eltheran at the high table was empty, and as Adariel drew close to it, she saw a red cushion positioned artfully on the seat. To Eltheran's right sat the dreaded Urogkuul advisor. Nobody moved until she had (with purposely slowed movements) sat down.
The hall was still silent, then, "All of you! Stand, and stand in the graceful beauty that thy Fair Maiden presents. Toast to the returned one!" Eltheran cried, and he stood up and drained his goblet.
In unison, the diners below rose from their seats and repeated his exclamation, then several of their own to the good health of the said Princess.
The feast wore on with all of the usual boredom that was incorporated in such public events. Adariel scarcely touched her food, and only pretended to eat dishes that looked like they were in the least bit edible. Her disgust at seeing the way the orcs guzzled down anything and everything made her stomach squirm. But as all events that go by in the world, time announced an end to the feast.
Suddenly, Eltheran stood and stared around the hall. Everybody was immediately silent.
'They have been well trained,' Adariel thought sadly, 'or, perhaps, thoroughly brain washed.'
"Yes, I am sure that the Princess is glad to be back in our society," Eltheran began, and here Adariel made herself bow her head rather stiffly in acknowledgment, "but I feel that she is yet still a stranger to our ways. Have we not changed much over the year? Have we not taken our steps toward a greater future for our remaining kind in faith that we will be united under the power of Sauron himself?"
An uncertain roar of approval swelled slowly, then died away.
"Yes," Eltheran stressed, then continued. "It is to the credit of the Princess Adariel to experience our ways that we have come to choose, which is why…we have a gift to her to welcome her back into our much changed company."
The orcs and the changed ones applauded. The 'free' elves did not.
Adariel suddenly felt apprehensive and stopped herself from fidgeting in her seat. She did not like the idea of a gift announced so publicly. Was it not enough for him to give it to her privately? Had he wanted to present it to her in the private audience earlier and changed his mind? And the orcs were applauding. Why were the orcs applauding?
Eltheran did not make a move to speak on, and with a start, Adariel realized he was waiting for her response. 'I will satisfy, for now,' she thought to herself.
Aloud, she said, "How cruel you are to make me wait in such anticipation for a gift given so freely! Pray tell, what may it be?"
"I am glad to see you so delighted!" Eltheran said, satisfied with the spoilt tone of her voice. "Bring in the 'gift'!"
Instead of seeing some item brought in on a tray as she had expected, Adariel heard the moaning and clanking of heavy chains scrapping the floor from afar. There was no need express her surprise, or her horror. It was clear in her manner. Adariel clamped a hand over her mouth automatically and did not see the twisted smile that Eltheran gave her.
Slowly, ever slowly, dark shapes formed in the corridor that had opened up. Two confident walking elvish shapes could bee seen, each dragging something harshly. Then Adariel made out shapes in the darkness walking with determined defiance. They were but a blur at first, and she did not recognize them until they were near the light of the hall.
And then she gasped as softly as she could.
Aragorn. Gimli. Boromir. And Legolas.
The lurch her heart did upon the sight of Legolas was similar to the one that she had felt outside of the tunnels of Moria, except more violent. A small voice in her mind sang tauntingly: 'you love him! You're hopelessly in love with him! Your admiration knows no bounds! Your heart belongs to him –'
And equally strong voice in her head cut it off, and with a cruel sneer said: 'what do you know? You are the heart, and you know no reason, whereas I am the creator of Logic.'
'Absence makes the heart grow fonder…' sang the other voice.
'Only the stupid fall in love…' said the second, until Adariel found herself suddenly upon her feet.
The whole room was looking at her, including her friends, dirtied and stained with the rusty color of blood. Adariel wondered why their expressions did not change upon the sight of her, then she remembered that her hood was up and that she was dressed in dark shades.
"Is something the matter, Princess?" Eltheran was studying her carefully. Adariel did not trust her voice to speak so she only waved her satisfaction, or what she hoped would be taken for agreement.
"These prisoners are at your disposal, my dear!" Eltheran announced with an easy smile touching his face. "Do as you please with them, they are yours entirely. But I warn you. Only one of them is immortal! The humans and the dwarf do not keep long. Better to rid of them all when you grow tired of them."
There was a commotion and a heavy clanging of chains. It was Gimli who stepped forward, and shouted with unchecked rage, "You traitors, all of you! Us dwarves who you have long since looked upon with an air of haughtiness…we would never disgrace our kin with such an act –" here he was cut off by the knife at his throat. Several laughed uneasily at his outburst, and Eltheran glared.
Turning to Adariel, Eltheran said, "I had built a room while you were in private audience downstairs for these prisoners to be kept. They are just off your chamber, so you may do as you please with them."
So THAT'S what the empty room next to hers was for.
"I thank you kindly," Adariel said, pitching her voice to be higher than usual, and grateful that he had not announced her name. Then she remembered that her name was never spoken publicly, and was relieved. "And I shall see what I may do with these…things. 'Tis such a gift, and I thank you for it."
"Of course, of course!" Eltheran clapped his hands. "And now, we must go back. There is much work to be done here. Morladris never sleeps."
At his bidding, the feast broke up, and he turned back to his daughter. "They have been taken to your floor, Adariel. I shall give you the privacy to having them the first night, and should anything happen, I have posted guards near your chamber. But I do not doubt your skill to defend yourself!"
Adariel nodded, but said, "How came you to know that I could wield a weapon?"
"Come now!" Eltheran stepped back to an impersonal distance, at ease with himself in the empty room. "You do not expect me to not notice the arrows that went missing mysteriously from the guards quarters in the earlier years?"
This surprised a slight laugh from Adariel, and she immediately cut it off.
"Well, I must take my leave, Dear One. Toy with them tonight and see how you like the feel of power between your fingertips. You will come to love it, I am sure and then you shall understand my motives for the joining of the Army of the One Eye." And he left, handing her a small, silver key.
The rustling from the newly converted chamber next to hers was unbearable, especially since Adariel understood who was in the gloomy darkness. As her footsteps drew near, a tense stillness came from the locked room. Adariel paused outside the door. It had only one barred slit to look through, and it was too dark for her to see inside. But she did not doubt them to be staring hard at her.
She opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it and moved on until she stopped at the doorway of her chamber. Changing her mind, she turned back and took out the key that hung from her neck.
At the sound of the slight jingling of the silver key, there was a flurry of whispers that flew back and forth in the room. Adariel had to smile. They were planning escape when she opened the door, seeing as she was alone.
"Do not try it," she said as icily as she could. "There are more guards here than then entire army of Saruman."
"I would rather die," came a voice from within, "than serve one who would have all my kin slaughtered." The hatred in the tone was like a slap to Adariel, and she drew back, key waving back and forth from her hand. She could almost feel the gaze upon the key.
"I will let you out now," Adariel said.
"Do what you will," said the voice of Gimli. "But I shall warn you, 'fair' lady, that we shall do what WE will too."
Adariel suddenly had an idea. She could tell someone she trusted her secret, and then perhaps they could work together to formulate a plan out. It was too late for herself, she acknowledged, but somehow there had got to be a way to release her charges. But who to confide too?
The first name that came into her head was Aragorn, and reason picked him first. But reason was twisted by emotion, and the image of the word ARAGORN soon transformed themselves to make LEGOLAS in her mind. She frowned, confused. Who to choose? Better to go with her head, or her heart?
And why was she making such a fuss on such a small decision.
"Guards!" she called softly, as not to raise too much of an alarm. There were immediately four by her side, looking dully at her.
The prisoners cursed and re-cursed them all. The guards paid no heed.
"The prisoner Legolas is to come with me."
It was with difficulty that the doors could be opened, and knife tips gleamed in the dim light. The initial struggle died down to quietness as each prisoner found a sharp tip at their throat. Legolas stepped forward voluntarily, unwilling to see his companions suffer.
The doors clanged shut after him, and he faced the hooded, feminine figure of his captor.
"Take us down to the lake, and then you are to leave us alone at the tunnel of the path. Leave me a blade and be assured that I may defend myself, if need be." Adariel ordered. The sneer of hatred on Legolas's face was heartaching. She longed to shake him and say that she was not who she appeared to be.
"I will never EVER submit to your treatment!" he spat at her. "I shall die first!"
The guard behind him pushed him roughly forward, and they started down the iron staircase and headed through the doors that lead outside the great building. The night air was warm from the heat of the metal melting fires. The stench of work drifted past them as they walked on, with Adariel in the lead to the rounding tunnel that Eltheran had first showed her.
They wound upwards in that torchlit spiral and stopped as the cool night air met them. The moon was up through the trees, and the lake gleamed and reflected the frosty starlight. The grass was a dark green, and wind was picking up.
Legolas gasped at the small display of beauty amongst the black hatred and destruction. He did not hear the hooded lady whisper to the guards as she took a sword from one of them,
"Leave us."
1.1 End of Chapter 14
Reviews please! NO FLAMES but constructive criticism is very welcome! –Spirit Star
Yeah! Back from camp! Anyway, considering the diminishing cuts and bruises on my leg, I have to say that it was not as bad an experience as I had thought!
Anyway, maybe I WILL change the rating to PG-13. But don't think it'll go any higher than that in the next chapter! They're not going to do something worthy of an R any time soon (sorry)! But maybe I'll think about it…
Sorry about the short chapter but I've got school tomorrow, but I had last Friday off coz the teachers were on strike AGAIN! Yeah!!! Lucky me!
Oh, and I got the Sindarin dictionary in pdf form but I totally forgot where I got it from…sorry. Search around on the net. I'm sure you'll find it. It's supposed to be really popular. I do remember that you have to register to get it though…