Wyze Lies
by Erestor
Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to The Lord of the Rings. This story was written for entertainment purposes only.
Thank you so much for reviewing!
Erestor.
As we had arranged, that evening Legolas and I met at a very quiet little café just inside the third wall of Minas Tirith. I arrived first, amazingly, plucking leaves from my hair and attempting to look like any other Elven tourist. This was difficult, because Gimli's attack had made me even more jumpy than usual, and I had to resist the urge to keep on spinning around to look for would-be assailants.
As I began to drink my second cup of tea, Legolas slunk into the room, wearing a clever disguise. He slumped into the chair across from me at the very moment I recognized him.
"Legolas!" I said.
"Not so loud," hissed Legolas.
"Sorry." I peered around furtively, but no one seemed to be looking at us.
Legolas ordered some tea and a pistachio muffin. We sat in silence for a tense ten or so minutes, me looking every which way and Legolas hunched over in his chair, until the food was brought to him. Then the prince of Eryn Lasgalen unfolded himself somewhat, and twitched his mouth at me. I think he was trying to smile. It was hard to tell for sure, however, because he had a large false mustache stuck on his face.
"Are you all right?" I asked him.
"I'm fine." Legolas sipped his tea, and grimaced. He peeled off the mustache. He placed the mustache genteelly under a napkin. He fished several hairs out of the teacup. He sipped his tea again. "I had some trouble with a few fans, but I managed to escape."
"The black eye becomes you," I told him.
"Did you know," asked Legolas reflectively, "that for many years, Aragorn and I traveled throughout Middle-earth?"
"Everyone knows that," I said.
"We had many adventures," continued Legolas. "I got hurt a lot. But did you know that I never ever got a black eye during that time?"
"Really?"
"Really." Legolas sighed into his teacup. "Now I never cease to resemble a raccoon."
"Legolas," I said, "I saw you talking to Glorfindel."
"We didn't quite talk to each other," said Legolas. "He spent his time purring demoralizing suggestions at me, and I spent my time attempting to rebuff him. He told me he plans to crush you forever."
"Oh," I said. I knew, of course, that Glorfindel wanted to crush me sooner or later, but it was rather discouraging to hear his intentions voiced so bluntly.
"But we won't let him destroy you," said Legolas, a determined glint in his eyes. "I need you to help me write the alien abduction book!"
I nodded.
"You do have friends in high places," said Legolas. "You are King Éomer's favorite author."
I nodded. Being King Éomer's favorite author had caused me some difficulties in the past, but it had its perqs. Éomer had kindly dedicated Rohan's first public library to me.
"And there's me," said Legolas modestly. "I'll help you."
"Thank you."
"Father will aid us, if we ever get into real trouble," said Legolas. He ate the last piece of his luridly green muffin.
"King Elessar is going to become one of the Wyze," I said. "He is far more powerful than Éomer, and the Wyze –forgive me for saying this– are much more powerful than you and your father."
Legolas shrugged. "We have resources," he said.
"It doesn't matter," I said. "I'm doomed. There's nothing you can do to save me. You should leave before you become even more involved."
"I am not leaving," said Legolas. "Things are just getting interesting. All you really need is another ally, Erestor. Just one more. Then perhaps we would be able to scare Glorfindel away."
"Who will help me?" I asked, nearly overcome with self-pity. Tea always makes me feel self-piteous.
"Someone who doesn't like the Wyze," said Legolas. "I have no idea why you are Éomer's favorite author, but Father and I support you because you are undermining the plots of the Wyze."
"Ah," I said, as a thought struck me.
What if Legolas had lied to me? What if there really were Balrogs? Legolas had told me there was no Balrog in Moria, but he might have said so only to encourage me to write a book denouncing the Wyze. Perhaps all this time Legolas had been sniggering up his sleeve at me, watching me take his false evidence and run with it.
If this were so, I was merely a pawn.
"Erestor?" Legolas's voice cut through my thoughts. "Erestor? You look sad. Don't be sad. I have a good idea."
I looked at him, wondering if I could trust him. I wanted to trust him, but I was afraid. Not so much afraid of him, but afraid that I had been wrong for such a long time.
"We'll ask Arwen to help us!" said Legolas brightly. "Everyone knows she hates the Wyze! We'll ask her to help us, and perhaps she will be able to dissuade Aragorn from becoming one of the them!"
"She's probably tried to dissuade him long before now," I said.
"Probably, but she might still help us in some way," said Legolas. "I'm sure she would be willing."
"How will we contact her?" I asked.
"We'll sneak into the palace," said Legolas. "I'll demand to talk to Aragorn, and you can sneak off and find Arwen while I'm distracting everyone."
I gave Legolas a very doubtful look. While I liked the Elf, I found his exuberance unnerving. He seemed to imagine that creeping through the royal palace without observation would be fun and easy. Perhaps it would be – for him. I, however, had the lesser part of 'little or no experience' when it came to unlawful entering.
We agreed on what Legolas continually referred to as our 'plan of attack'. We decided to meet the next day. Legolas would be as ostentatious as possible. I would be as invisible as possible. Legolas would try to make contact with Aragorn, while I tried to find Queen Arwen.
"You realize," I said, "if King Elessar catches me alone with Arwen, he'll have a very good excuse for killing me and solving all the Wyze's problems. He could claim I was trying to assassinate her or something."
"Yes, there is that," said Legolas. "You had better try hard not to get caught, then."
Once I found Arwen, I would use my great persuasive abilities to get her to help me. I would briefly outline the plan I had in mind and ask for her cooperation. In the best case scenario, the Queen of Gondor would be overcome with goodwill and agree wholeheartedly to help me out. In a worse case scenario, Legolas would fail to distract Aragorn, and the King would rush in, see me pestering his wife, and promptly kill me.
"But you can't let the possibility of death and failure make you nervous," said Legolas.
"Thanks. In that case, I'll simply not think about death and failure," I said. "Though it's not like I ever get nervous anyway."
If I survived, I would possibly have an ally. With Arwen's assistance, Glorfindel might be defeated, or at least made slightly leery regarding his plans to totally crush me.
"I have one question, though," said Legolas. "Have you talked to Arwen before, while you were in Rivendell?"
I shook my head. "No. Why do you ask?"
The tips of Legolas's ears turned slightly pink, and he stared at his hands. "Well," he said, "do you think you can talk to her?"
I looked at him. "Yes. Why do you ask?"
"I haven't been able to help but notice," said Legolas carefully, "that men who try to talk to Arwen often end up babbling incoherently, or, worst of all, just staring."
"Oh," I said.
"The first time she walked through the city of Minas Tirith," said Legolas, "several people walked into large, immovable objects, likes walls and trees. Not just men. Women too. She's beautiful."
"I know that," I said. "I've seen her before."
"From a distance," said Legolas.
"Yes," I admitted reluctantly. Arwen hadn't come out in public often. She had always been a rather solitary Elf.
"Well," said Legolas, "I have faith in you. Just don't make a fool of yourself."
I sighed. Now I had to worry about death, failure, and humiliation.
I worried about death, failure, and humiliation all night, and all the next morning. I told myself worrying wouldn't help, but telling myself so didn't help either. My mind worried anyway. It wouldn't stop.
In an attempt to reassure myself, I found a photograph of Arwen. I propped it up on a table and looked at it. After a while, I practiced speaking to it. The picture of Arwen was not reassuring, and I was not reassured. Eventually I wrote out my speech on a piece of paper and tried to memorize it.
By morning, I was very tired and grumpy. I tore up the picture of Arwen and threw it away. I ate toast and thought gloomy, grumpy thoughts. If Glorfindel had shown up, I probably would have thrown something heavy at his head. I would have gladly shoved garlic in his mouth and a stake through his heart. I would have cheerfully boiled him in oil. I nearly wanted him to come to me so that I could do something violent to him.
He did not come, and the grumpy, vicious mood passed, and I was left feeling small and scared.
In the early afternoon, I donned my camouflage. I wore dark colors, and a black and red scarf, because the days were getting colder. I looked very ordinary, but then, it would have taken some time and trouble to make me look anything but ordinary.
I walked all the way to the palace. There were a lot of tourists about, and the Knights of Gondor were standing at their watches, looking bored. I sat on a bench and tried to read a book.
By the time Legolas's bright green sports car came swerving into view, my fingers were frozen and my heart was pounding. I watched, mesmerized, as Legolas sprang lightly out of his vehicle, and preened and posed in the courtyard. The tourists rushed at him, screaming. The guards, bored no longer, joined the frenzied mob.
I stumbled to my feet, abandoning the book on the bench, and began to sneak into the palace.
I walked briskly up the path to the palace doors, and walked through. No one stopped me. The guards were trying to obtain a piece of Legolas's shirt. I walked through a marbled hall. Having spied Legolas outside, the tourists in the hall were scrambling to get out of the door to run to him. At the end of the hall were several more halls. All were empty. Legolas was very distracting.
I wandered through the halls for some time, looking for more private quarters. When I found stairs, I climbed them. Eventually the floors become carpeted instead of tiled, and I knew I was closer to her majesty. I was also entering dangerous territory. If caught, I would be in serious trouble. There were more people around, people who had not heard that Legolas was approaching the building, so I was more likely to be caught.
This was the worst part. I started opening doors and peeking cautiously inside rooms. Then–
"Looking for someone?" asked a security guard, thumping his hand down heavily on my shoulder.
I froze. Then I turned around and said, "Yes."
"Really? Who?" asked the security guard, a cynical expression on his face.
"Just an old friend of mine from Rivendell," I said, drawing myself up to the height of his shoulder. I smiled brightly at him. "I believe she's expecting me."
"Who is this 'old friend' of yours?" asked the security guard.
"Arwen," I said, "though, of course, nowadays she's known as the Queen of Gondor." I raised my eyebrows and smirked at him, imitating a look I had seen often on Glorfindel's face. It was a look that said, "I am popular" and "What are you going to do about it?".
The security guard gaped at me. I was not surprised. After all, I was only a small, uninteresting Elf in raggedy clothing, and I was sneaking through the royal palace and saying the queen of Gondor expected me. But I was saying it with complete assurance, not a hint of doubt on my face. Very confusing.
"You're from Rivendell, you say?" asked the security guard.
"Yes," I said.
"I'll take you to her majesty," said the guard. "If she knows you, she'll say so. You must understand, I have to be careful who I let wander through this place. Can't have just anyone showing up."
"Of course not," I said. "I understand completely." I was perfectly calm, but only for two reasons. Firstly, I had despaired utterly of speaking to Arwen. Secondly, I was pretending I was Glorfindel, and Glorfindel never shows utter despair. Not that he's ever despaired anyway. But if he did, he wouldn't show it.
The guard had let go of my shoulder, but now he took my arm and escorted me firmly down the lushly carpeted hall. I maintained my dignity by acting like Glorfindel, and therefore was confident and relaxed and nonchalant, as though this sort of thing happened to me all the time. Even when I was dragged before King Elessar and handed over to the Wyze, I would maintain my dignity. After all, variations on this sort of thing did happen to me all the time. I had faced death at the hands of the Wyze so often the experience was beginning to lack interest.
The security guard came to a door, and greeted the guards who stood outside it.
"Who's this?" asked one of the guards.
"He says he's her majesty's friend," said my captor, giving me a little shake. I remained serene.
The guards laughed.
I was trying to decide whether Glorfindel, when mocked by mortal guards, would give them one of his most lethal glares, or whether he would smirk knowingly at them. I didn't know which would be more scary: the glare or the smirk. I thought both would probably seem pretty pathetic if I tried to copy them.
The security guard knocked on the door. "Your majesty," he said humbly, "there's an Elf here to see you. Says he's a friend of yours from Rivendell and you're expecting him."
I closed my eyes, waiting to hear her majesty deny this, but Arwen said, "Show him in. The door isn't locked."
The security guard opened the door and bowed himself through it, dragging me after him.
Arwen, half-rising from her chair, said, "Erestor!", and then sank back, adding in a languid voice, "Yes, I was expecting this Elf. Please put him down."
The guard released my arm with a pained expression. I would have smirked, Glorfindel-like, at him, but I was much too startled to do anything refined.
"You may go," said Arwen, waving her hand at the guard, and he stumbled away, bobbing up and down like a rubber duck in a bathtub.
I made the mistake of looking at her.
She was beautiful. She sat at a desk, and had evidently been typing something on a sleek, modern computer. Her hair was pulled back and arranged in braids, jewels sparkled on her forehead, and she had something clutched in her hand. Her lips curved into a smile, and my brain turned mushy and tried to run out my ears.
"Erestor," she said, "I was expecting you, though, I admit, not quite so soon."
I remembered I should breathe, and promptly did so.
"Please sit down," she said. "You must have come for some reason."
I remembered what Legolas had said about 'just staring' and winced mentally. The problem was that I wanted desperately to stare, to drink in every detail of her perfect face and body, so that for the rest of eternity, when she was not before my eyes, I would remember those details.
I sat down, still staring.
Arwen smiled again. "Perhaps this will help," she said, and she opened her hand. I saw she had been holding a pair of glasses, which she proceeded to put on. "My vision," she said apologetically. "Nowadays it's been getting worse and worse. I don't want people to know I wear glasses..."
I shook my head. "I won't tell anyone," I said, and congratulated myself for putting four words together in a coherent sentence in her presence.
She looked as beautiful with glasses as she had looked without them. The dark rims brought out the darkness in her eyes. Somehow, though, with the glasses, she seemed more accessible. They did help.
"Erestor," she said, "I have heard so much about you."
I gaped at her, and then remembered that I was infamous, and probably most people had heard of me. I was more surprised she had recognized me simply by the sight of me.
"I have read both your books," continued the queen.
"Oh," I said. This, I told myself, was what I had wanted, but I was embarrassed just to think of her reading them. She had probably decided I was a total nutcase.
"What can I do for you?" asked Arwen, leaning forward and looking at me expectantly.
I swallowed, remembered the speech I had memorized, and proceeded to recite it to her. By the time I was finished, I wanted to go away and quietly die somewhere. Death and failure would not be as bad as this, I thought. If she wants to help me after this, I don't know if I'll trust her judgement at all.
Arwen sat back in her chair. "Interesting," she said. "I like your plan. Very tricky. I'm sure it would cause Glorfindel some trouble."
I nodded gratefully.
Arwen took off her pair of glasses and nibbled on one of its legs. She sighed, and said, "Before we get too intimate, I suppose I should tell you..."
"Tell me what?" I asked hesitantly.
"That I'm one of the Wyze," Arwen said, and smiled.
TBC...