Disclaimer: You should know who's mine and who's not. And as for the Elvish in this chapter, it's not "real Tolkien" elvish; it's that stuff floating around on the internet, so a word of warning is: don't rely in it, unless you're learning that.
CHAPTER SIX
"When we get there," Boromir said, stopping us before we reached the bottom of the stairwell, "we can not let them speak, or they will put a spell on us. We'll just have to sort out everything afterwards." I nodded and headed for the library's more discreet door in the back. "Not that way," Boromir insisted, "If the wizards are in there, they probably caught Calmacil when you sent him in, so they can expect us to be coming after him. So we go in the front."
"But..." I hesitated, seeing his logic. They would expect us, especially me, to try to steal in unnoticed, thereby going the in rear way. "All right then. Let's try to sneak up on the wizards by barging in the front door."
"Sounds like a plan to me."
"It would."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Forget it." Then a sound touched my ears. "Someone's coming." It did occur to me that this might be another delusion, but I did not get that feeling, so I pulled Boromir into a closet with me.
"Cleaning supplies?" His dignity was clearly offended.
"Short notice." I shrugged and the two of us held our breaths, hoping that whoever it was would pass by. No such luck, however.
Siriandil opened the door and smirked at us. "You think a person can hide in a cleaning closet? It's the first place anyone would look."
Boromir was about to reply to him angrily, but I beat him to it. "Hide? Who said anything about hiding? Stewards do take care of the city, so isn't it about time they started taking their job seriously and doing real work?" I gestured to a mop with the joking attitude I had picked up from Mablung in hopes of relieving the tension.
Surprisingly it worked. Boromir just gaped at me in disbelief, and Siriandil was now amused at least. "So, your brother is training to become little more than... a glorified janitor?" I smiled and raised my eyebrows as if to say "Why not?", and he took on a superior attitude once more. "In the future, you may want to remember that it is easier to simply lie."
I stared at him hard. "I don't, but I'll remember that. At least," I clarified, "I'll remember that you said that; and since you're about to ask us to trust you enough to let you take care of the wizards without the assistance of mortals, I would advise you to reconsider." He wore a surprised expression, but one that was strangely pleased, so I ploughed ahead. "You revealed yourself to be a wizard when you released Boromir and me from the spell Dinanna put on us. That's how I knew you thought of us as inferior mortals."
Siriandil laughed. "I know I can not be read so easily as that. The blood of Westerneese must run true in you as it does in your father."
I shot a worried glance at Boromir, wondering how he would react to the reminder of Father's one displeasure in him- the fact that he did not seem to have inherited this trait. But rather than responding as I feared he would, he was glancing between the two of us with a confused expression. "What?" I asked him, but when I realized that it had come out as "Mani?", I recognized that Siriandil and I had lapsed into Elvish near the beginning of our conversation. This was also the preferred language of rangers, but Boromir had long since forgotten what little he knew of it.
"It appears we must speak in the Common Tongue," Siriandil said. Boromir was instantly relieved, but I was left disappointed. I missed speaking in the Fair Tongue whenever I came away from Ithilien to Minas Tirith.
"So, do you two have a plan for defeating the wizards?" Boromir inquired.
"Actually, I was just about to tell your brother that I can handle them myself."
Reacting irritably, I asked, "Lye n'astald e' dagor?" (Are we not valiant in battle?) I was, at least for now, reluctant to drop the language, as much because Boromir never actually heard me arguing with anyone higher in rank than me, and I did not want to give off the wrong impression.
"Amin sinta thalliolle. Tanya n'farnuva." (I know your strength. That will not suffice.)
"Makoi? Amin n'rangwa lle." (Why? I don't understand you.)
"Uuner uma; n'della no'ta." (No one does; don't worry about it.)
I set my jaw stubbornly. "Amin autien yassen lle." (I'm going with you.)
"Ta naa linnod: 'Uuma ma' ten' rashwe; ta tuluva a' lle'." (It is a saying: 'Don't look for trouble; it will come to you.)
"Amin uuma malia. Amin tulien." (I don't care. I'm coming.) At this point, I hoped I didn't sound like a spoiled child. Judging by his response, I guessed I did not.
He sighed. "Manka lle merna. Ta naa dethloalle." (If you wish. It is you choice.)
"Well?" Boromir demanded impatiently. "What was just decided?"
"We're helping him." I said.
"It's about time."
"And I have an idea," Siriandil put in.
"And that's also more like it. Now, we can start moving."
