Author's note: John Rhys-Davies thinks I'm very smart. At least, that's what he put on the autograph he signed for me after my friend and I talked to him for ages about classical archaeology.
We had great fun at the convention yesterday. Being a dealer means you get to go in early (even though most of the people signing autographs didn't actually show up early) so we got to be first in the queues for everything. I was the first person to get Thomas Robins' autograph (he played Deagol). The weird thing is that each one will probably sell in the shop for the same price as the whole pile of pictures he signed.
When we were packing up I had to carry (among other things) a box of signed posters worth £1000 each. If I'd run off with it I'd have had my university fees sorted out. It's amazing how much you can sell a picture with a bit of ink on for. Next time I go to the convention as a dealer I'll buy some autographs to sell on myself now that I've seen just how big the profit margins are on that sort of thing in the shop. The only autographs I've bought that were for me I've had personalised so they don't sell on for as much, though Garry did sell on his poster for over £1000 (he refused to tell us the exact figure) and that was personalised. Admittedly it had about twelve signatures on it.
The convention isn't the only reason I haven't updated. The computer's been annoying and trying to eat my floppy discs instead of just opening them.
***
Legolas again woke to someone moving around in his cell. A servant was bringing a plate of food and placing it on the main table of the room. Legolas sat up as she left, and looked about him. He must have fallen asleep shortly after the man had left him alone. The poison was gone from his system, but his body still needed time and rest to heal. He stretched his muscles experimentally, pleased to find that the pain in his back was all but gone. His side though was another story.
He stood, cautiously, and felt his legs weak beneath him. They supported him though, and without too much pain considering what had happened to him. He crossed to the window and looked out. The world outside was growing darker, with day creeping on towards evening and the sun making one last, valiant effort to break through the clouds, sending a handful of golden rays down to the horizon. He must have been asleep several hours.
Legolas then paid attention to his body's needs, and went to the table and his food. He ate it gratefully, only realising halfway through his meal that he hadn't heard the sound of the lock as she had left. He told himself he was probably mistaken, he would find the door securely fastened if he checked. But it was not enough to tell himself that.
Abandoning the rest of the food, since his curiosity would not let it rest until he learned the truth, he went to the door. It opened easily as he turned the handle and there were no guards outside to halt his progress. He was curious as to how a servant could be so foolish as to leave a prisoner's door open, but decided not to question his fortune. He checked quickly the knife he had been left with his dinner, but left it on the table. It was too blunt to be any use as a weapon. Fortune had given his something, but not everything.
He made his way along a short corridor, walking slowly and carefully, wary of the pain in his side that throbbed with each movement he made. He could walk without aid though, and that was enough. He slowed his pace further as he neared the end of the corridor, listening intently to the sounds coming from up ahead. A bright, childish voice was talking rapidly in a language Legolas didn't understand. Laughter joined the child's voice, from more than one source. Legolas stopped within the shadow of the corridor, and, half-hidden in the dim light, looked out into a large hall.
A young boy was waving a stick around, possibly in an attempt to imitate a sword, telling some tale or other. As well as Legolas could judge human ages, he appeared about five or six years old. A young, richly dressed lady was the child's audience, laughing at his antics, and beside her stood the men's lord. He was smiling down at the child, clearly find the story humorous, but even for where he stood, Legolas could see there was sadness in his eyes that the smile couldn't erase.
Legolas shifted slightly in the shadows, unsure now of what to do. He could see a doorway outside, but reaching it would mean crossing the hall and passing the man. The man in question looked up at the slight movement to where Legolas stood, meeting his gaze. He didn't seem angry to find Legolas free.
Legolas hesitated a moment, unsure of whether he should run. He doubted he'd get very far. Even with elven healing, his side was extremely painful. Those moments were all it took for the men's lord to say something to the boy and walk to where Legolas stood.
"You should be resting," he said simply.
"The door was unlocked," Legolas replied.
"That doesn't mean you should be wandering around with your injuries. I'll take you back to your room." Legolas noted that he didn't get a say in the matter.
The man put a hand on Legolas' shoulder and began to lead him back, when the boy called out something in his own language. The man turned and responded, leaving Legolas wondering how many languages he was a master of, since he spoke to the slavers with as much ease as he spoke to these Rohirrim.
"A fine child," the man commented as they walked away, speaking mainly to himself, "my son would have been another much like him."
"You can't know that," Legolas said.
"I do know that."
"How?"
There was a pause before the man spoke again, and Legolas thought when he did that he'd changed the subject. "Have you ever been to Lothlorien?"
"No," Legolas told him, "though I've often wished to go."
"The Lady Galadrial has a mirror which allows her to see many things, past, present and future, distant places and forgotten dreams. I looked into that mirror, shortly after I was betrayed, and saw the wedding that would never take place, the child that would never be born. I saw my son and loved him, though I'll never see his birth. I often wonder if it would have been better if I'd never looked. Then I would never know what my life is lacking."
By this time they had returned to Legolas' cell and gone inside, though the man made no move to lock the door. Legolas was too curious to deal with that now, instead he focussed on the questions the man's admission was raising.
"It's surprising for a human to be allowed into an elven realm, especially one such as Lothlorien," he said.
"I've been to Lothlorien, the Grey Havens, even Mirkwood on occasion."
"Mirkwood?" Legolas couldn't keep the surprise from his voice. Only rarely did men enter Mirkwood, and they were just traders from Laketown. For this lord claim to have visited was ludicrous.
The man sat down on the chair and Legolas sat on the bed, waiting for some explanation. The man clearly understood the question Legolas was too amazed to ask and was thinking of the best way to answer.
"Almost two months ago," the man said at last, "I was given a message by a friend of mine, Gandalf, known to your people as Mithrandir." Legolas nodded, knowing the Istari well. "He told me that King Thranduil of Mirkwood wished to speak with me. You can understand my curiosity at such a request, so I went, and he told me that he had a task he wished me to complete.
"He told me that a Mirkwood elf had travelled south only to be attacked. How he knew this, he didn't say. He simply said that he wanted me to journey south, find you and return you to Mirkwood. He told me that he suspected you had been captured by the slavers in the south, and that I might be able to buy you, but he refused to tell me anything about you, what your purpose in that land was or even your name.
"I decided that there were three possibilities. First, that you were a criminal who had done something so terrible he wanted you to face trial for it and suffer a punishment worse than slavery." Legolas tensed at this insult, but allowed the man to continue.
"The second possibility was that you were on some mission to the south that was important to Mirkwood, and King Thranduil need to know if it had succeeded.
"Or," the man went on, "as I felt more likely, you were someone dear to King Thranduil. Since neither of you would give me a name, I had to assume you were an enemy. I suspected you to be the king's son, but until you confirmed my guess, I couldn't let you walk free."
"And now?" Legolas inquired.
"And now, I trust that you will continue the journey north with my company without the need for ropes and restraints."
"I was sent into the south to deliver a message to the leader of the Haradrim," Legolas said, "What that message was I will not share even with one who has saved my life. On my return I was attacked, and so outnumbered that I didn't stand a chance. I fought as well as I was able, but was captured. My horse, however, got free. He is intelligent enough to find his way home to my father. That is most likely how he knows I was taken prisoner."
"So now we both have our answers," the man commented. He stood to leave, but as before Legolas called him back.
"May I know your name?" he asked.
"Aragorn," the man answered, "son of Arathorn of the Dunedain." Legolas thought over what he had been told in the past few minutes.
"Since you now know who I am," Legolas said, "and know that I can be trusted, surely I can be offered the same. Will you tell me of yourself?"
"What would you know?"
"The name of the one who betrayed you."
There was a silence. Aragorn's face was lowered, his gaze fixed to the floor so Legolas couldn't tell what he was thinking. When the man finally looked up, there was such grief in his eyes that Legolas wished he would look anywhere else.
"That is something I will share with no one. Even to Ethindal, who I am sure has many suspicions on the subject, I will not speak his name. The identity of the one who betrayed me will never be known for certain by any save myself."
"But why? Why protect him if he did such terrible things?"
"Because not all of them were terrible," Aragorn answered after a moments recollection, "The death of my unborn child I will never forgive, but everything else he did I can understand. He was doing what he believed to be best, and I can see why he felt that way." There was a long pause, "Sometimes think that he may have been right."
Legolas was bewildered completely. Having seen the anger this man felt over his betrayal, Legolas would not have thought he could sympathise, especially not to the extent of saying this traitor might have been right. Legolas was unable to speak for some moments from the shock. By the time he had recovered the man was almost gone.
"You said you had visited elven realms," Legolas asked his final question, "but you didn't name Rivendell."
The man didn't face Legolas, so the elf couldn't see his expression. He stood for a long while, completely motionless, half-way out the door. He didn't even turn round when he finally answered the question.
"No," the man said quietly, "I have never visited Rivendell."
***
Author's note: Confused? Good. I couldn't answer your questions without giving you a few more to puzzle over. I know quite a few of you guessed that the lord was Aragorn, but there are some enigmas I don't think you'll guess so easily. If you do, I'll be very disappointed.
We had great fun at the convention yesterday. Being a dealer means you get to go in early (even though most of the people signing autographs didn't actually show up early) so we got to be first in the queues for everything. I was the first person to get Thomas Robins' autograph (he played Deagol). The weird thing is that each one will probably sell in the shop for the same price as the whole pile of pictures he signed.
When we were packing up I had to carry (among other things) a box of signed posters worth £1000 each. If I'd run off with it I'd have had my university fees sorted out. It's amazing how much you can sell a picture with a bit of ink on for. Next time I go to the convention as a dealer I'll buy some autographs to sell on myself now that I've seen just how big the profit margins are on that sort of thing in the shop. The only autographs I've bought that were for me I've had personalised so they don't sell on for as much, though Garry did sell on his poster for over £1000 (he refused to tell us the exact figure) and that was personalised. Admittedly it had about twelve signatures on it.
The convention isn't the only reason I haven't updated. The computer's been annoying and trying to eat my floppy discs instead of just opening them.
***
Legolas again woke to someone moving around in his cell. A servant was bringing a plate of food and placing it on the main table of the room. Legolas sat up as she left, and looked about him. He must have fallen asleep shortly after the man had left him alone. The poison was gone from his system, but his body still needed time and rest to heal. He stretched his muscles experimentally, pleased to find that the pain in his back was all but gone. His side though was another story.
He stood, cautiously, and felt his legs weak beneath him. They supported him though, and without too much pain considering what had happened to him. He crossed to the window and looked out. The world outside was growing darker, with day creeping on towards evening and the sun making one last, valiant effort to break through the clouds, sending a handful of golden rays down to the horizon. He must have been asleep several hours.
Legolas then paid attention to his body's needs, and went to the table and his food. He ate it gratefully, only realising halfway through his meal that he hadn't heard the sound of the lock as she had left. He told himself he was probably mistaken, he would find the door securely fastened if he checked. But it was not enough to tell himself that.
Abandoning the rest of the food, since his curiosity would not let it rest until he learned the truth, he went to the door. It opened easily as he turned the handle and there were no guards outside to halt his progress. He was curious as to how a servant could be so foolish as to leave a prisoner's door open, but decided not to question his fortune. He checked quickly the knife he had been left with his dinner, but left it on the table. It was too blunt to be any use as a weapon. Fortune had given his something, but not everything.
He made his way along a short corridor, walking slowly and carefully, wary of the pain in his side that throbbed with each movement he made. He could walk without aid though, and that was enough. He slowed his pace further as he neared the end of the corridor, listening intently to the sounds coming from up ahead. A bright, childish voice was talking rapidly in a language Legolas didn't understand. Laughter joined the child's voice, from more than one source. Legolas stopped within the shadow of the corridor, and, half-hidden in the dim light, looked out into a large hall.
A young boy was waving a stick around, possibly in an attempt to imitate a sword, telling some tale or other. As well as Legolas could judge human ages, he appeared about five or six years old. A young, richly dressed lady was the child's audience, laughing at his antics, and beside her stood the men's lord. He was smiling down at the child, clearly find the story humorous, but even for where he stood, Legolas could see there was sadness in his eyes that the smile couldn't erase.
Legolas shifted slightly in the shadows, unsure now of what to do. He could see a doorway outside, but reaching it would mean crossing the hall and passing the man. The man in question looked up at the slight movement to where Legolas stood, meeting his gaze. He didn't seem angry to find Legolas free.
Legolas hesitated a moment, unsure of whether he should run. He doubted he'd get very far. Even with elven healing, his side was extremely painful. Those moments were all it took for the men's lord to say something to the boy and walk to where Legolas stood.
"You should be resting," he said simply.
"The door was unlocked," Legolas replied.
"That doesn't mean you should be wandering around with your injuries. I'll take you back to your room." Legolas noted that he didn't get a say in the matter.
The man put a hand on Legolas' shoulder and began to lead him back, when the boy called out something in his own language. The man turned and responded, leaving Legolas wondering how many languages he was a master of, since he spoke to the slavers with as much ease as he spoke to these Rohirrim.
"A fine child," the man commented as they walked away, speaking mainly to himself, "my son would have been another much like him."
"You can't know that," Legolas said.
"I do know that."
"How?"
There was a pause before the man spoke again, and Legolas thought when he did that he'd changed the subject. "Have you ever been to Lothlorien?"
"No," Legolas told him, "though I've often wished to go."
"The Lady Galadrial has a mirror which allows her to see many things, past, present and future, distant places and forgotten dreams. I looked into that mirror, shortly after I was betrayed, and saw the wedding that would never take place, the child that would never be born. I saw my son and loved him, though I'll never see his birth. I often wonder if it would have been better if I'd never looked. Then I would never know what my life is lacking."
By this time they had returned to Legolas' cell and gone inside, though the man made no move to lock the door. Legolas was too curious to deal with that now, instead he focussed on the questions the man's admission was raising.
"It's surprising for a human to be allowed into an elven realm, especially one such as Lothlorien," he said.
"I've been to Lothlorien, the Grey Havens, even Mirkwood on occasion."
"Mirkwood?" Legolas couldn't keep the surprise from his voice. Only rarely did men enter Mirkwood, and they were just traders from Laketown. For this lord claim to have visited was ludicrous.
The man sat down on the chair and Legolas sat on the bed, waiting for some explanation. The man clearly understood the question Legolas was too amazed to ask and was thinking of the best way to answer.
"Almost two months ago," the man said at last, "I was given a message by a friend of mine, Gandalf, known to your people as Mithrandir." Legolas nodded, knowing the Istari well. "He told me that King Thranduil of Mirkwood wished to speak with me. You can understand my curiosity at such a request, so I went, and he told me that he had a task he wished me to complete.
"He told me that a Mirkwood elf had travelled south only to be attacked. How he knew this, he didn't say. He simply said that he wanted me to journey south, find you and return you to Mirkwood. He told me that he suspected you had been captured by the slavers in the south, and that I might be able to buy you, but he refused to tell me anything about you, what your purpose in that land was or even your name.
"I decided that there were three possibilities. First, that you were a criminal who had done something so terrible he wanted you to face trial for it and suffer a punishment worse than slavery." Legolas tensed at this insult, but allowed the man to continue.
"The second possibility was that you were on some mission to the south that was important to Mirkwood, and King Thranduil need to know if it had succeeded.
"Or," the man went on, "as I felt more likely, you were someone dear to King Thranduil. Since neither of you would give me a name, I had to assume you were an enemy. I suspected you to be the king's son, but until you confirmed my guess, I couldn't let you walk free."
"And now?" Legolas inquired.
"And now, I trust that you will continue the journey north with my company without the need for ropes and restraints."
"I was sent into the south to deliver a message to the leader of the Haradrim," Legolas said, "What that message was I will not share even with one who has saved my life. On my return I was attacked, and so outnumbered that I didn't stand a chance. I fought as well as I was able, but was captured. My horse, however, got free. He is intelligent enough to find his way home to my father. That is most likely how he knows I was taken prisoner."
"So now we both have our answers," the man commented. He stood to leave, but as before Legolas called him back.
"May I know your name?" he asked.
"Aragorn," the man answered, "son of Arathorn of the Dunedain." Legolas thought over what he had been told in the past few minutes.
"Since you now know who I am," Legolas said, "and know that I can be trusted, surely I can be offered the same. Will you tell me of yourself?"
"What would you know?"
"The name of the one who betrayed you."
There was a silence. Aragorn's face was lowered, his gaze fixed to the floor so Legolas couldn't tell what he was thinking. When the man finally looked up, there was such grief in his eyes that Legolas wished he would look anywhere else.
"That is something I will share with no one. Even to Ethindal, who I am sure has many suspicions on the subject, I will not speak his name. The identity of the one who betrayed me will never be known for certain by any save myself."
"But why? Why protect him if he did such terrible things?"
"Because not all of them were terrible," Aragorn answered after a moments recollection, "The death of my unborn child I will never forgive, but everything else he did I can understand. He was doing what he believed to be best, and I can see why he felt that way." There was a long pause, "Sometimes think that he may have been right."
Legolas was bewildered completely. Having seen the anger this man felt over his betrayal, Legolas would not have thought he could sympathise, especially not to the extent of saying this traitor might have been right. Legolas was unable to speak for some moments from the shock. By the time he had recovered the man was almost gone.
"You said you had visited elven realms," Legolas asked his final question, "but you didn't name Rivendell."
The man didn't face Legolas, so the elf couldn't see his expression. He stood for a long while, completely motionless, half-way out the door. He didn't even turn round when he finally answered the question.
"No," the man said quietly, "I have never visited Rivendell."
***
Author's note: Confused? Good. I couldn't answer your questions without giving you a few more to puzzle over. I know quite a few of you guessed that the lord was Aragorn, but there are some enigmas I don't think you'll guess so easily. If you do, I'll be very disappointed.