Disclaimer- All belongs to Tolkien
A/N. Notes at the bottom explaining the whole Avari kingdoms thing, and creepy Moristu. As for our mystery elf, you will have to wait and find out who he is!!!!!! *grins evilly* Please Read and Review!
Chapter 1- A Plan and a Slave Girl
His beautiful, loving mother was dead. His father was a cruel, powerful Maia known throughout the Avari kingdoms for his savage, bloodthirsty ways and increasingly monstrous greed. Even the Witch-King of Angmar in the south had stayed well away with his forces of orcs, wargs, trolls and wraiths.
All Aëlorothi had ever known was an infinite reign of darkness. Maybe that was because the monstrous fortress was built of expensive black marble. Maybe it was the fault of the tall forbidding Carn Dûm Mountains that rose around it on all sides. Maybe it was because he had spent all of his life within the north tower of the fortress. Maybe it was because there had never been a single moment of happiness in the long, tormented years of his life since his mother had been killed.
Not much longer, he resolved. He could not bear to stay in this place, in the frozen north of the world, beyond all brink of civilization but for the colonies of slaves his father kept- and they were hardly civilized. He had thought up plan, after plan, after plan. In each one there had always been a flaw, a simple, insignificant flaw that would destroy his chances of leaving for the rest of his life. But, finally, after nights of listening and remembering and scheming, he had come up with the most perfect plan there was.
The most perfect plan there was, one that had the smallest chances of being caught. Yet, even then, the chances of escaping were so miniscule, it was almost foolish to even consider it. Heavily armed guards planted everywhere, and trap-doors and tunnels and stairs and mazes his father knew like the back of his hand. To all but Prince Aëlorothi, the idea would have been given up the moment it had been dreamt up.
But he could remain no longer.
That in mind, Aëlorothi quietly went about the richly ornamented tower room he inhabited, and gathered together the few sentimental and necessary things he would need for his escape and journey through the wilds.
His father had given him everything in the way of expensive comforts except for a pack, which of course, he was never expected to need. Taking one of his cloaks and spreading it across the carpeted stone floor, he tied together two opposite corners, and then the other two opposite corners. It would have to do as a replacement.
He had armed himself with a magnificent sword stolen off of the body of a dead prisoner, an elvish-made weapon of power and beauty. A long, smooth blade, thin, but as strong as the purest mithril. In nearly invisible letters, elvish was embedded, swirling, across the blade. The handle was black, smooth and hard like marble, set with some deep-red precious stones in a jagged pattern, like autumn leaves dancing along with the crisp breezes of fall.
Of course, his father had no knowledge of this weapon, at least that it was in his keeping. On the body of the prisoner he had also found two long, deadly daggers, the exact same style as the sword, only more slender in the blade. His bow and quiver, leaning against the wall in the corner, he would pick up on the way.
He flung his cloak onto his bed with a pair of black gloves, strapped on his sword, stuffed the daggers in his bag, and tossed it on his bed as well. There was no map he could get his hands on, but when he had been forced into those endless hours of lessons, studies and recitations as an elfling, he had seen his fair share of maps. They were practically embedded in his head.
Now all he had to do was to wait in the dim light of the evening for the guards to change shifts outside of his bedroom and his supper to be brought along by whichever of his father's slaves was lucky enough to be sent to the kitchens that day.
As he waited, seated on the edge of his bed, his mind drifted back to his mother. Her name was Aetarmë Caraví, a beautiful Avari elven-princess and a very powerful enchantress. Her father was Alvarantu, a mighty and fearsome Dark-elf, Chieftain of the Thoravi tribe. To any other elf, Princess Aetarmë would have been an evil to be destroyed. For all elven peoples hated the Dark-elves. But not his Maian father, King Moristu Morglanthi. Moristu found her to be a suitable source of power, so he married her with all the moonlit strolls and and candlelight banquets and singing under the stars that her romantic heart desired, and then tricked her into revealing the greatest secrets of her magic, and that with the dark magic Morgoth had wrought in him while in his service, made him one of the greatest elven-sorcerers ever to appear in Middle Earth, besides Morgoth himself- and he was locked up in the Void.
Aëlorothi was suddenly startled from his thoughts when he heard a muffled voice outside as one of the guards came up to change posts with the present one. There was a moment of whispering, a clanging of armor and weapons, and after a moment, the one who had been at his door all day clomped away down the long, winding, tower stair.
It was not a half hour later when the slave came up with his evening meal. He heard the guard's key rattling in the lock, and the door swung open. A pale, dirty-faced girl, about twenty-five he guessed, came quietly in with his meal. The guard, clearly oblivious to the pack and weapons in plain sight, closed and locked the door once more.
Aëlorothi waited for the girl to set out his meal. When she was done, she stood back with her tray, waiting for him to eat so she could return to the kitchens with the dishes.
Her eyes roamed the chamber as he took a bite of the chicken marsala, and suddenly rested on the weapons, and then his cloak-bundle. Her face paled when she met his wary glance, and she looked at the floor.
Hesitating for a moment, Aëlorothi finally spoke up. "If you help me escape, I will take you with me."
The girl's green eyes returned to his. "You're not serious, m'lord?"
He nodded, leaning back in his chair, and worded his next sentence carefully. "I most certainly am. I am sick and tired of this place." He eyed her patched, gravy-stained, floury dress. "I would presume that you are as well."
That would be an understatement, he thought.
The girl just looked at him, not sure what to think. This was, after all, the son of her terrible master. He could very well be trying her loyalty to the Royal House of the Black Assassin. Or he could be serious and either incredibly stupid, or remarkably brilliant, which to her, was something out of the ordinary.
Seeing her struggle, Aëlorothi touched the hilt of his sword. "Do you really think my fath- Moristu- would let me have these weapons? Really?"
The girl shrugged. Everyone knew that since Prince Aëlorothi had completed his twelve years of endless studies, from age four to sixteen, he was assigned to hours of grueling practice in the armory with various advisors of Moristu's, or even Moristu himself, until he was twenty-five. Prince Aëlorothi could very well have been assigned to extra hours in his chambers. Which would explain why he had the sword.
And now that she thought of it, the guard didn't seem the least bit bothered by the young prince's weapons. It never occurred to her that the guard was more than slightly drunk, thus not as aware he might have been.
Aëlorothi sighed, and but his lip. The slave girl knew exactly what he was up to, and he had to keep her quiet. "Look, how can I prove to you that I am serious? All I want is to get out of this place! I am perfectly willing to take you along as a companion, if you are willing to help me. Otherwise, I will get out of here by myself, and you will remain the rest of your life a slave in the kitchens beneath this fortress. It's your choice."
Leaving the girl to think this out, he finished the last bite of the chicken marsala and the rich red Dorwinion wine in the goblet she had poured him.
As she gathered the dishes onto her tray, she finally nodded. "Yes."
"You'll do it?" Aëlorothi gestured for her to sit in a nearby chair and gave her an appraising look. "Do you know how to fight? Sword? Bow? Knives?… Spear?" He hesitated.
"No, but I can get a couple of butcher knives from the kitchen tonight," she whispered. There was an adventurous twinkle beginning to dance in her green eyes.
"Fine, uh… what is your name?" he asked her.
"Namys, m'lord-"
"Aëlorothi, please."
"Yes… Aëlorothi," her cheeks flushed pink at the supposed disrespect. She finally met his eyes. "I really shouldn't call you that. You are an immortal elf-prince, of all people, and I am but a human slave."
Aëlorothi folded his hands on the table. "I am but a slave myself. Now, I need you to gather up a suitable amount of lembas bread and at least two small skins of miruvor-"
"Miruvor?" she interrupted, frowning. "That red cordial?"
"Yes, it serves as an energizer, gets your blood moving, and keeps your head clear. I think we should supply ourselves with some."
She nodded.
"And also, if you can find it, a few vials of spider-poison antidote and morgul poison antidote-"
"Antidotes? What for?"
Aëlorothi resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This was evidently not an overly bright girl he was dealing with here. "Yes, should one of us happen to need it." He then paused, wondering if he should just get the antidotes himself. She might show up with some completely useless vial of horse-liniment or rat-poison instead of the antidotes. "You do know how to read, right?"
She nodded.
"Good. I think that will be all. I will need to get at least two horses, and figure out how to get both the outer and inner gates raised so can leave," he said, slowly counting off on his fingers.
Namys gave him a strange look. "That sounds a bit dangerous, if you ask me."
Aëlorothi coughed to hide a laugh that threatened to tear out of his throat. "Yes, well, I think we might run into a few dangerous situations on our journey."
Again, Namys gave him a skeptical look.
"Is there anything else that you think we may need?"
Namys scratched her head. "There's my little brother. He'd like to come along."
"We could possibly arrange that," Aëlorothi murmured. "He's not a child, is he?"
"No, he's older than you... nineteen, actually," replied Namys.
Aëlorothi nodded, trying to picture an incredibly stupid, human image of himself. "And what is his occupation right now? Where is he?"
"Oh, he's locked up in the dungeons under the east tower."
OoOoOo
Notes
Aetarmë Caraví- Aëlorothi's mother, married and killed by King Moristu, Avari elven princess, powerful enchantress, Crown Princess of Thrônztjar, daughter of King Alvarantu of Thrônztjar.
Moristu Morglanthi- Aelorothi's father, a Maia who once served in Morgoth's service as his second lieutenant(as Mairon/Sauron was the first Lieutenant), stole Princess Aetarmë's magic and killed her, is now about to be married again... his first three wives died mysteriously (real nice guy, huh? Gives you nice warm fuzzy feelings) His wives were- 1: some kidnapped Noldo lady, 2: Queen Aetarmë (the mother of his only child and heir), 3: Queen Auzyfrauyla, 4: soon to be Queen, Waerhanuwa
The Kingdoms of the Avari, aka the Morhszajhany Kingdoms- Cârn Dûm (the Southern Kingdom of Morhszajhany, ruled by the Maia Moristu), Jyvdûn (the Western Kingdom of Morhszajhany, ruled by the nephew of Moristu's third wife, Auzyfrauyla), Thrônztjar (the Northern Kingdom of Morhszajhany, ruled by the father of Aetarmë, Moristu's second wife), and Zyphrynuw (the Eastern Kingdom, ruled by the brother of Moristu's future fourth wife, Waerhanuwa). These four kingdoms of the Avari land of Morhszajhany are north of Angmar, just north of the northern Cârn Dûm Mountains, which are north-east of the Cârn Dûm mountains.
I hope that wasn't too complicated?!? I hope to post soon.
Love you guys! Pls review!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh, and you are doing yourself a favor by reviewing, because the more reviews I get, the more I will be inspired to write, and therefore, the sooner you will find out who our Mystery Elf Aelorothi really is :D
~Aerlinwe Greenleaf