TENTH INSTALLMENT FOR QUEST FOR THE RINGS
10. Prisoners of an Introduction
"May I come in?" Master Filiby's voice floated to us from the other side of the door.
"What do we do?" I asked Legolas, panicked. "He had to have known about this, Legolas, we can't let him see Rorimac!" Thinking quickly, Legolas let out his breath in a rush.
"Ok, just follow my lead, and let me do the talking," he said somewhat cryptically. "Pray enter, Master Filiby," he called, his voice resonating with a confidence he did not feel. Filiby peeked into the room with a slightly puzzled look on his face, which turned to incredulity when he saw Tarrodwen and Legolas standing there. As quickly as it came, all emotion on Filiby's face vanished to be replaced once more by that sickening smile.
"Ah, Master Greenleaf! Miss Silvereye! I'm glad to see you all together- Good Heavens, what is wrong with Master Ironhand?" Filiby stopped in mid- greeting when he saw Rorimac lying unconscious on the bed.
"I'm sorry to say that Rorimac has taken ill, Master Filiby," Legolas began. "He complained of a blinding headache, no doubt from the exhausting travel and lack of sleep," he lied glibly.
"Oh?" Master Filiby raised an eyebrow as he looked over Rorimac's still form. "I do hope it's nothing serious."
"It is not, I assure you. He has been prone to these little attacks and I'm confident he'll recover. I've given him a pain killing medicine and a sleeping draught, which should get him back on his feet soon enough," Legolas smiled at him winningly before raising a hand in Rorimac's general direction.
"However, as you can plainly see, he is in no condition to dine with His Highness tonight, but we gladly promised to give Emperor Melnion his regrets and apologies."
"I see," Filiby replied, his smile slipping slightly. "Well then, we had best retrieve the venerated Master Gandalf and proceed to the dining hall with all haste. It would not be wise to keep your esteemed host waiting." With one last suspicious look at Rorimac, Master Filiby spun on his heel and exited the room.
"Smooth, Legolas," I said appreciatively, letting the tension out of my shoulders. "But what are we going to do about Gandalf? We have no idea where he is."
"I suggest we stick to the truth there," he replied. "Come on, we can't keep our esteemed host waiting," Legolas said as he offered me an arm and led me out of Rorimac's room. We found Filiby already waiting out in the hall, his foot tapping in irritation.
"Now where, pray-tell, is Master Gandalf?" he asked us as we approached.
"I'm sure we have no idea, Master Filiby," I replied in all honesty. "I haven't seen him since you last left us. Perhaps he left to seek someone out before we dined and has not yet returned," I suggested.
"Be that as it may, we must proceed without him. His Highness will not be kept waiting," he said with stiff superiority. "Come along, I suppose Emperor Melnion will have to make due with just two out of your party tonight."
"Something in his attitude rings false," Legolas whispered as we followed Master Filiby at a respectful distance. "Did you notice the shocked look on his face when he found both of us in Rorimac's room, alive?" Glancing conspiratorially at Master Filiby who was still walking swiftly up the corridor without so much as a backward glance, I replied,
"And he seemed none too surprised nor phased with the disappearance of Gandalf."
"He knows what's going on here, even if we don't, and we can be sure that what Filiby knows, Melnion knows. We'll have to watch our backs carefully tonight, Tarrodwen."
"Our backs and our food," I replied somewhat miserably.
"Gods, how are we supposed to do that?" he asked, the desperation evident in his voice.
"Please do keep up," Master Filiby called irritably. "The dining hall is just ahead. I will introduce you."
Swirling to a halt in front of a set of massive oak doors, Master Filiby adjusted his blood red robes. A thick gold ring resting on the hilt of a dagger was embroidered in gold thread on the left breast; the personal sigil of the Emperor. Fixing us with a somewhat contemptuous stare, he rapped smartly on the doors, gaining access to the room beyond.
The great dining hall in the Imperial Palace was by far the largest and grandest room Tarrodwen had ever seen. In awed silence, she lifted her eyes to the vaulted ceiling. It seemed to go on for miles. Massive, white marble columns lined the walls at regular intervals, shooting upward like frozen streams of pure light. It looked as if the entire solar system had been painted on the ceiling, the stars winking with reflected light from the torches ensconced on the walls. A long, polished oak table stretched the length of the hall, completely filled with the lords and ladies of Geldrion; an ornately carved throne perched at its head.
The entire room had fallen into a curious silence as soon as Legolas and Tarrodwen entered. Questioning eyes searched them from top to bottom as Master Filiby cleared his voice. "My lords and ladies of Geldrion, may I introduce to you his Majesty Emperor Melnion's special guests for the evening, Master Legolas Greenleaf and Miss Tarrodwen Silvereye." Brief nods of welcome and hushed remarks greeted his announcement, but Master Filiby paid them no mind.
Poking Legolas and I gently in the back, Filiby urged us forward toward the towering throne sitting empty at the head of the table. As we walked, the general conversation resumed and occasional bouts of laughter could be heard among the lords and ladies. When at last we reached the end, Master Filiby seated us to the left of the throne, before seating himself at the right hand side.
After waiting in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes, I quietly asked Master Filiby, "Where is the Emperor?"
"He will be here when it suits him to be here," Master Filiby replied loftily with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"And he thought, we'd be late!" I whispered to Legolas as Filiby made some comment to the lord next to him. Legolas' reply was drowned out by the sudden blare of a trumpet. All conversation along the table ceased once more and the guests all stood respectfully. With a quick glance at Master Filiby, who was discreetly urging us to stand with an upward twitch of a finger, Legolas and I took the cue and rose to face the set of side doors.
The ruler of the Isle of Geldrion, Lord of the Golden Palace, and Protector of the Peace in the Imperial City, his royal Highness Emperor Melnion was an impressive sight indeed. He was nearly six-foot-five, with shocking green eyes and a wealth of black hair heavily streaked with noble lines of silver. Half of his face remained covered by a well-kept beard that matched his ebony and silver hair. The years had done little to soften his hard and angular features, and the only visible lines on his visage were irritated cracks at the corners of his thin mouth. He was clad in a fine shirt of silk, dyed crimson, the ring on the dagger of his personal sigil glittering on the breast. Pants of the same red were tucked severely into the tops of knee-high, polished, black boots, and a scarlet cape heavily embroidered with gold thread, hung casually down his back and nearly to the floor.
He surveyed the assembled guests with aloof disinterest before waving his hand for the feast to begin, never saying a single word. As we were seated, Emperor Melnion finally decided to grace us with his attention. "A bit depleted, I see," he remarked calmly with an upraised eyebrow. When all he received in answer from me was a slightly puzzled look, he continued, "Your fellowship, I mean."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
With his back pressed tightly to the cold marble wall, Gandalf peered warily around the next dark corner. Nothing. All was quiet and still as a grave. It only made Gandalf the more uneasy. Six passages, six cautious turns, and not so much as a page to be seen. It seemed this whole end of the castle was utterly deserted. Creeping on silent feet, he continued farther into the gloom of the west wing.
The sconces on the wall held no torches, lit or otherwise, and the soot marks above them were light. Gandalf also noticed that there were no suites leading off from this hall like the ones he and the others occupied. There were no doors, no windows, no shallow nooks carved into the walls for expensive pieces of ugly art-only the endless rows of empty sconces. This was obviously a seldom-used corridor, but he knew it was, in fact used by someone. The years of inattention had allowed a thick film of dust to coat the floor and even Gandalf's aged eyes could pick out the row of footprints. They were off the side and single file, but even so, Gandalf saw the size of the print was consistent throughout. There was only one person who ever came down here.
A silent thirty minutes went by before Gandalf found himself at a dead end. There was nothing further but a blank, stone wall. The footprints simply disappeared from that point. "Well, I'm sure whoever comes down here does not just turn around and leave again for good health," Gandalf muttered as he placed himself in the footprints and began to feel the wall in front of him for a hidden release.
Another ten minutes of searching brought him no closer to whatever lay beyond than he had been when he had walked out of his room a good hour ago. Frustrated, Gandalf turned and leaned his head against the hall wall to think a minute. With a horrible grating sound the dead-end wall began to slide sideways. Eyes widening in surprise, Gandalf turned and looked at the spot where he had rested. Sure enough, there on the wall, at head height, was a swirl of marble that looked slightly out of place with its brothers. Upon examining it sideways, he realized it protruded slightly from the wall, but was indistinguishable when looking at it from head on, as he had been.
"Hmm, when all else fails, use your head," he smiled at his joke before stepping carefully onto the descending stairwell uncovered by the wall. He slowly made his way down the steps in complete darkness until he came to a slightly warped, wooden door. "I must be well underneath the castle by now." Although he figured it was locked, Gandalf gave the door a sharp push anyway and was taken by surprise when it opened easily and he all but tumbled through.
A blast of stifling hot air hit him full in the face and for a moment Gandalf knew nothing but the burning of his lungs. He thought he had only closed his eyes for a moment to reorient himself, but when he opened them again, he found his hands tied and stretched high above his head and his ankles manacled to the floor. "Where." was all he got out before a shadow fell across his body and he found himself looking up at an evil pair of eyes and a mouth twisted into a cruel smile.
Alrighty my faithful readers, I need at least 10 reviews before I'll post my next chapter. I hope you're enjoying it! ~Adularia
10. Prisoners of an Introduction
"May I come in?" Master Filiby's voice floated to us from the other side of the door.
"What do we do?" I asked Legolas, panicked. "He had to have known about this, Legolas, we can't let him see Rorimac!" Thinking quickly, Legolas let out his breath in a rush.
"Ok, just follow my lead, and let me do the talking," he said somewhat cryptically. "Pray enter, Master Filiby," he called, his voice resonating with a confidence he did not feel. Filiby peeked into the room with a slightly puzzled look on his face, which turned to incredulity when he saw Tarrodwen and Legolas standing there. As quickly as it came, all emotion on Filiby's face vanished to be replaced once more by that sickening smile.
"Ah, Master Greenleaf! Miss Silvereye! I'm glad to see you all together- Good Heavens, what is wrong with Master Ironhand?" Filiby stopped in mid- greeting when he saw Rorimac lying unconscious on the bed.
"I'm sorry to say that Rorimac has taken ill, Master Filiby," Legolas began. "He complained of a blinding headache, no doubt from the exhausting travel and lack of sleep," he lied glibly.
"Oh?" Master Filiby raised an eyebrow as he looked over Rorimac's still form. "I do hope it's nothing serious."
"It is not, I assure you. He has been prone to these little attacks and I'm confident he'll recover. I've given him a pain killing medicine and a sleeping draught, which should get him back on his feet soon enough," Legolas smiled at him winningly before raising a hand in Rorimac's general direction.
"However, as you can plainly see, he is in no condition to dine with His Highness tonight, but we gladly promised to give Emperor Melnion his regrets and apologies."
"I see," Filiby replied, his smile slipping slightly. "Well then, we had best retrieve the venerated Master Gandalf and proceed to the dining hall with all haste. It would not be wise to keep your esteemed host waiting." With one last suspicious look at Rorimac, Master Filiby spun on his heel and exited the room.
"Smooth, Legolas," I said appreciatively, letting the tension out of my shoulders. "But what are we going to do about Gandalf? We have no idea where he is."
"I suggest we stick to the truth there," he replied. "Come on, we can't keep our esteemed host waiting," Legolas said as he offered me an arm and led me out of Rorimac's room. We found Filiby already waiting out in the hall, his foot tapping in irritation.
"Now where, pray-tell, is Master Gandalf?" he asked us as we approached.
"I'm sure we have no idea, Master Filiby," I replied in all honesty. "I haven't seen him since you last left us. Perhaps he left to seek someone out before we dined and has not yet returned," I suggested.
"Be that as it may, we must proceed without him. His Highness will not be kept waiting," he said with stiff superiority. "Come along, I suppose Emperor Melnion will have to make due with just two out of your party tonight."
"Something in his attitude rings false," Legolas whispered as we followed Master Filiby at a respectful distance. "Did you notice the shocked look on his face when he found both of us in Rorimac's room, alive?" Glancing conspiratorially at Master Filiby who was still walking swiftly up the corridor without so much as a backward glance, I replied,
"And he seemed none too surprised nor phased with the disappearance of Gandalf."
"He knows what's going on here, even if we don't, and we can be sure that what Filiby knows, Melnion knows. We'll have to watch our backs carefully tonight, Tarrodwen."
"Our backs and our food," I replied somewhat miserably.
"Gods, how are we supposed to do that?" he asked, the desperation evident in his voice.
"Please do keep up," Master Filiby called irritably. "The dining hall is just ahead. I will introduce you."
Swirling to a halt in front of a set of massive oak doors, Master Filiby adjusted his blood red robes. A thick gold ring resting on the hilt of a dagger was embroidered in gold thread on the left breast; the personal sigil of the Emperor. Fixing us with a somewhat contemptuous stare, he rapped smartly on the doors, gaining access to the room beyond.
The great dining hall in the Imperial Palace was by far the largest and grandest room Tarrodwen had ever seen. In awed silence, she lifted her eyes to the vaulted ceiling. It seemed to go on for miles. Massive, white marble columns lined the walls at regular intervals, shooting upward like frozen streams of pure light. It looked as if the entire solar system had been painted on the ceiling, the stars winking with reflected light from the torches ensconced on the walls. A long, polished oak table stretched the length of the hall, completely filled with the lords and ladies of Geldrion; an ornately carved throne perched at its head.
The entire room had fallen into a curious silence as soon as Legolas and Tarrodwen entered. Questioning eyes searched them from top to bottom as Master Filiby cleared his voice. "My lords and ladies of Geldrion, may I introduce to you his Majesty Emperor Melnion's special guests for the evening, Master Legolas Greenleaf and Miss Tarrodwen Silvereye." Brief nods of welcome and hushed remarks greeted his announcement, but Master Filiby paid them no mind.
Poking Legolas and I gently in the back, Filiby urged us forward toward the towering throne sitting empty at the head of the table. As we walked, the general conversation resumed and occasional bouts of laughter could be heard among the lords and ladies. When at last we reached the end, Master Filiby seated us to the left of the throne, before seating himself at the right hand side.
After waiting in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes, I quietly asked Master Filiby, "Where is the Emperor?"
"He will be here when it suits him to be here," Master Filiby replied loftily with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"And he thought, we'd be late!" I whispered to Legolas as Filiby made some comment to the lord next to him. Legolas' reply was drowned out by the sudden blare of a trumpet. All conversation along the table ceased once more and the guests all stood respectfully. With a quick glance at Master Filiby, who was discreetly urging us to stand with an upward twitch of a finger, Legolas and I took the cue and rose to face the set of side doors.
The ruler of the Isle of Geldrion, Lord of the Golden Palace, and Protector of the Peace in the Imperial City, his royal Highness Emperor Melnion was an impressive sight indeed. He was nearly six-foot-five, with shocking green eyes and a wealth of black hair heavily streaked with noble lines of silver. Half of his face remained covered by a well-kept beard that matched his ebony and silver hair. The years had done little to soften his hard and angular features, and the only visible lines on his visage were irritated cracks at the corners of his thin mouth. He was clad in a fine shirt of silk, dyed crimson, the ring on the dagger of his personal sigil glittering on the breast. Pants of the same red were tucked severely into the tops of knee-high, polished, black boots, and a scarlet cape heavily embroidered with gold thread, hung casually down his back and nearly to the floor.
He surveyed the assembled guests with aloof disinterest before waving his hand for the feast to begin, never saying a single word. As we were seated, Emperor Melnion finally decided to grace us with his attention. "A bit depleted, I see," he remarked calmly with an upraised eyebrow. When all he received in answer from me was a slightly puzzled look, he continued, "Your fellowship, I mean."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
With his back pressed tightly to the cold marble wall, Gandalf peered warily around the next dark corner. Nothing. All was quiet and still as a grave. It only made Gandalf the more uneasy. Six passages, six cautious turns, and not so much as a page to be seen. It seemed this whole end of the castle was utterly deserted. Creeping on silent feet, he continued farther into the gloom of the west wing.
The sconces on the wall held no torches, lit or otherwise, and the soot marks above them were light. Gandalf also noticed that there were no suites leading off from this hall like the ones he and the others occupied. There were no doors, no windows, no shallow nooks carved into the walls for expensive pieces of ugly art-only the endless rows of empty sconces. This was obviously a seldom-used corridor, but he knew it was, in fact used by someone. The years of inattention had allowed a thick film of dust to coat the floor and even Gandalf's aged eyes could pick out the row of footprints. They were off the side and single file, but even so, Gandalf saw the size of the print was consistent throughout. There was only one person who ever came down here.
A silent thirty minutes went by before Gandalf found himself at a dead end. There was nothing further but a blank, stone wall. The footprints simply disappeared from that point. "Well, I'm sure whoever comes down here does not just turn around and leave again for good health," Gandalf muttered as he placed himself in the footprints and began to feel the wall in front of him for a hidden release.
Another ten minutes of searching brought him no closer to whatever lay beyond than he had been when he had walked out of his room a good hour ago. Frustrated, Gandalf turned and leaned his head against the hall wall to think a minute. With a horrible grating sound the dead-end wall began to slide sideways. Eyes widening in surprise, Gandalf turned and looked at the spot where he had rested. Sure enough, there on the wall, at head height, was a swirl of marble that looked slightly out of place with its brothers. Upon examining it sideways, he realized it protruded slightly from the wall, but was indistinguishable when looking at it from head on, as he had been.
"Hmm, when all else fails, use your head," he smiled at his joke before stepping carefully onto the descending stairwell uncovered by the wall. He slowly made his way down the steps in complete darkness until he came to a slightly warped, wooden door. "I must be well underneath the castle by now." Although he figured it was locked, Gandalf gave the door a sharp push anyway and was taken by surprise when it opened easily and he all but tumbled through.
A blast of stifling hot air hit him full in the face and for a moment Gandalf knew nothing but the burning of his lungs. He thought he had only closed his eyes for a moment to reorient himself, but when he opened them again, he found his hands tied and stretched high above his head and his ankles manacled to the floor. "Where." was all he got out before a shadow fell across his body and he found himself looking up at an evil pair of eyes and a mouth twisted into a cruel smile.
Alrighty my faithful readers, I need at least 10 reviews before I'll post my next chapter. I hope you're enjoying it! ~Adularia