Sarah There's a bit of what's going back home in Minas Tirith right at the end of this chapter. I made it especially for you.
Astalder27 Tsk. Tsk. You're wasting your breath. When did Leggy ever listen to anyone?
Theo darkstar You will get more and more and more of them after this!
RMC Was that a cliffhanger just now? Mmm, yeah, it was. Sorry. I'll post cliffies some more. Leggy's angst will be around chapter 15 and 16 and 17 and…Oops. I have to control myself here before I get carried away!
Leralonde Yep, I'm enjoying 'Crashed and Burned' very much. I hope the author updates quicker. (Yes, you're very subtle. LOL!) Oh, right! The nakey lakey chapter! Like I told the person before you, check out chapter 15, 16, 17 and…Aw, shucks! I do have to control myself!
Ceyxa How about both? He he he…
A NuEvil You got crosseyed watching the monitor? What about me? I got crosseyed thinking about the monitor!
Manwathiel I don't think throwing breads into the street is gonna work in distracting those Haradrim. I think Leggy should throw away some g-strings. Preferably, his g-strings. All the girls and ladies are gonna cause a riot! Some of the men, too, if I might add. Err…wait, what universe are we talking about here?
Abbicat16 Oh, wow, I can just imagine the outfits; white silk low hip hugging pants (My, I can't breath!) that flare out around the feet (I'm sweating here!), white silk sleeves held up by two golden bands (ahh!), assorted bracelets all the way up their arms (fans herself), one simple hoop earrings (drools), golden eyeshadow and black eyeliner (faints dead away….).
Saerwen Remember the Christmas song? Okay, sing with me. Let them flame, let them flame, let them flame. LOL! You want to read 'Triple Jeopardy'? I've tried e-mailing it to you just now but the whole thing came back to me, saying that it the attempt was not successful. Maybe I got the wrong e-mail add. Can you send something to my e-mail, so that I can reply it? Thanks. Yes, I do get the ideas for Chibi-legolas fics from real life. You see, I have three little nephews and a niece. If I got one more niece, I will have a complete set of Highly Mutant Power Rangers. Need I say more?
Rutu I don't understand sibling rivalry, either. Maybe because I'm the oldest child in my family and always look out for my younger siblings. They are annoying lot, trust me, but when we are together—even though they already have their own families—we just can't stop fooling around like when we were kids! It's great fun.
Delano Why, thank you. Honestly, I didn't handle the GAFF all that well the first time I read the thread. But then, when I started thinking rationally, it's not so bad. Hey, that's life. I can live with it.
Bessie1 Yay! You're back! I promised you, there will be more Legolas' story as the sheltered prince after this. I just wish I had more hands to type and another brain to work out the plots so that I can finish this story faster. Ha ha!
Last of the Narain Baby, Legolas looks good in anything. In fact, he looks smashing in nothing!
Kimi Raikkonen just won the Canadian GP last weekend! Is he going to win the US GP this weekend in Indianapolis? I certainly hope so! Oh, i'm going to watch Batman Begins tonight! Yayyy!
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Eldarion had not killed Baldy. But he really wished he had. The big, evil man deserved not just a long cut down his cheek. He should have had the pick axe rammed up his arse!
It all had begun not long after Baldy had punished Eldarion for stopping from whipping the slave woman. Eldarion was back to his station, chipping away at a marble slab, when Baldy had come from behind and whacked him on the head with the handle of his whip.
His temper already frayed around the edges, Eldarion had instantly responded to the deliberate provocation. Without thinking, Aragorn's son had swung up his axe, aiming for Baldy's throat. The much bigger man had laughingly jumped aside but, unluckily, miscalculated his steps. He had tripped on a loose rock and lost his balance. Eldarion had swung again, and this time Baldy had not been able to avoid being hit. The sharp edge of the pick axe had struck the guardsman square on his face with a sick thud.
The quarry had become a total bedlam afterwards, what with Baldy thrashing and screaming from the pain while the rest of the guardsmen rushed about to restrain the axe-wielding young slave. Eldarion fought like a man possessed, swinging his only weapon as if his life depended on it.
Strangely, though, the other slaves had not shown much reaction during the entire fiasco. Totally expressionless, they just stood where they were and stared with blank eyes as Eldarion unleashed his fury. They didn't even blink when the guardsmen swarmed the boy and repeatedly pummeled him to the ground. When it was all over, the slaves had turned their backs to the semi-conscious Eldarion and resumed their work, completely unperturbed.
Eldarion didn't know who he was angrier with; with the other slaves for not helping him, with Baldy for starting the entire thing, or with himself for losing control yet again.
Ignoring his ecstatic spectators, the young prince kept on walking. He then gave out a shot curse when his steps faltered, his strength alarmingly waning. After a league of jogging on his battered feet from the quarry into the city, with the mounted guardsmen yanking at his shackles the entire way, Eldarion was ready to collapse on to his face. His guards wouldn't let him, though.
Riding with a mad-struggling slave through the narrow and quickly congested streets could prove to be hazardous, so two of the guardsmen had quickly dismounted and firmly held the boy upright between them. Leaving their horses in their colleagues' care, they dragged their captive along as they pushed through the crowd, climbing up the path that led to Lord Movrak's keep.
Feeling dizzy and incredibly thirsty, Eldarion wearily looked up. Men and women alike were curiously staring and pointing at him. Laughter broke here and there as some of them enjoyed his plight. Through the din, he heard someone saying that he had killed a man, and that he would be executed for it. Someone else then said that they were going to cut off his hands so he wouldn't kill again.
Despite it all, Eldarion grinned weakly when hearing this. If he had no hands, he would be no use whatsoever to Movrak as a slave, for he could do no more work. He instantly sobered, though, when he realized that Movrak could still use him for one other purpose, something that was so dirty and twisted it was beyond his comprehension.
Seeing red all of a sudden, Eldarion struggled anew even when he realized that his effort was hopeless. Growling angrily, he jerked at the shackles, dragging his guards several steps backward. Jabbing and kicking at the men, the young prince fought valiantly for release.
Swearing hotly, the guardsmen swung their massive fists and started hitting back. Seconds later, Eldarion was knocked unconscious. The guardsmen slung the limp body over a colleague's mount and rushed onward for Movrak's keep, leaving the entire crowd cheering and jeering behind them, thoroughly entertained by the show.
Except for one.
No, Legolas didn't enjoy it at all. In fact, he was feeling sick to the pit of his stomach. His eyes burned bright with tears of rage, his fists clenched tight at his sides until his knuckles turned white. If he had brought along his bow and quiver, more than thirty Haradrim would be dead by now. But all he had was a dagger…and a sack of stupid blueberry muffins.
He looked down at the sack in disgust, feeling like throwing it away in his mounting anger. He had already lost his appetite. His gut felt hollow, but no longer from hunger. Silently, he collected his composure and tied the sack to his belt, hidden from view beneath his cloak
And then, keeping his head down, the graceful warrior-elf slipped through the throng of excited people. Like a shadow, he disappeared up the path in hot pursuit of Eldarion, completely unnoticed.
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When Eldarion came to, he found himself lying facedown in the middle of Movrak's marble-paved courtyard, surrounded by Movrak's guardsmen. He couldn't remember how he got there, but the numb pain all over his body told him that he had been an unwilling participant. He groggily raised his head when he heard steadily approaching footsteps coming from the main house.
Lord Movrak was walking leisurely down the steps, dressed in his robe and turban. The merchant wore a smug on his face as he quietly studied the boy lying sprawled at his feet.
"Aw, look at you now. All broken and battered," Movrak chided. "Had enough, my dear boy?"
"I'm not…your boy, you bastard." Eldarion bristled. His teeth gritting, he pushed onto his hands and knees, struggling to rise. Slowly, he managed to stand upright, swaying with fatigue on his bleeding feet as he glared daggers at Movrak.
The merchant just chuckled. "Still have your spirits, I see. Good, you might need them. You see, you nearly killed one of my men, and that will guarantee you a harsh punishment. How about if I put you under 'The Rock'? Would that teach you something? Would that make you submit to me?"
"I'm not afraid of you, you dirty swine!" Eldarion yelled, leaping forward to hit Movrak but was quickly yanked back by the guards. "Do whatever you want with me, but you won't last until the next full moon, I swear it! I'll kill you with my own bare hands!"
Movrak had retreated several paces, a bit shaken by the vehemence in the boy's voice. This was not what he wanted. He had expected the boy's total surrender and obedience after a week of hard labor, bruising his body and pride, not this kind of confounding defiant rage. The boy's reaction both confused and fascinated him. Surely, Movrak had never seen a slave so fearless and proud like this one.
That gave Movrak all the more reason to conquer him. As a successful tradesman, he had always loved challenges. He liked to fight over obstacles to gain complete power and upper hand. His wealth and big influence could even buy him the city governor's authority. No one dared say no to him. No one was willing to give him dispute.
Except for this boy, this tall handsome youth that proved to be his biggest challenge so far. Unused to defeat, Movrak would make sure the boy bow to him. He was just a kid after all, easy to bend, easy to mold. Still, Movrak might need to change his tactics with this particular slave. It was easier to catch more bees with honey, they said. And that was what he would do. Offer the boy some 'sweets'.
Composing himself, Movrak smiled kindly. "You haven't been inside my beautiful grand house, have you? Would you like a tour?"
Eldarion was quite taken aback by the sudden turn of events. Warily, he gave the merchant a narrow gaze filled with venom. "I don't want a bloody tour! Your house can go to ruin for all I care!"
Already expecting such respond, Movrak's smile only grew wider. He signaled a couple of the guardsmen. "Bring him inside."
A big part of Eldarion wanted to resist, but he was too exhausted to offer much fight. So, he let them drag him up the short flight of stairs and into the big house. The moment he was out of the sun, the young prince emitted a huge sigh of relief. The afternoon heat had been close to baking him just now. He didn't know how long he could have lasted out there. Movrak smiled at his reaction, and Eldarion almost smiled back, so dazed he was.
"While you decide whether you really want to kill me or not, let me show you my favorite part of this house," the man said as he led the way from the foyer and through a long hallway. He glanced briefly over his shoulder, chuckling. "You are going to love it too, I'm sure."
Eldarion didn't reply to that. He kept his face blank as he followed the merchant at a much slower pace, his two guards flanking him. As Movrak proudly showed him the interior of the house, the young prince tried to act indifferent. He didn't want to be impressed by the grandeur of Movrak's palace, but he couldn't help but feel some admiration for its unique architecture.
Oh, Eldarion didn't care much about the pretty chandeliers hanging over their heads, or the heavy colorful drapes over the big windows, or the gilded sconces and big paintings lining the wall, or even the interesting looking statues and busts that graced every corner of the place. He had seen better adornments in his own home at Minas Tirith. Still, the structural design of the building truly caught his interest. He stared, awestruck, at the high ceiling above him. He was now standing right under the biggest dome of the keep, and was mystified to find no rafters whatsoever supporting the massive structure.
How can a vast hollow space bear the weight of something so huge?
Seeing the fascinated look on the boy's face, Movrak laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Awesome, isn't it?"
Eldarion stiffened and jerked away his shoulder. "No, it's awful."
Though insulted, Movrak tried not to show his growing irritation. "Never mind, then. There are several other things you need to see that I'm sure will astound you."
"What are you doing, old man?" Eldarion harshly asked. "Why are you showing me all these things? If you are doing this just to impress me, then it's pointless. Never have I seen anything so dull and dreary in my entire life."
One of the guards raised his arm to slap Eldarion for his insolence, but Movrak stopped him.
"No, it's all right," the merchant said, his smile a bit tight. "The boy may speak his mind. He might find all these not to his satisfaction, but there is one place that I'm sure will steal his breath away. Come, follow me."
He led the way again, this time heading down a narrow corridor at the end of the main hallway. They came to a door and Movrak quickly unlocked it. Behind it was another corridor, darkened and stuffy, like a tunnel. The air felt slightly oppressive. Before they move on, each guard took a lit torch from the wall behind them. Lifting the torches high to light the way, they reclaimed the slave's arms and pulled him along, deeper into the darkness.
Eldarion started to grow extremely uneasy. Where are they taking me?
He truly wanted some explanation, but was unwilling to give Movrak the satisfaction to know that he was nervous. So he kept walking in silence, pushing one foot after the other. They were descending a rounded staircase when they came to an abrupt stop right in front of another closed door.
After he opened the door, Movrak ordered one of the guards to light the torches inside. As the room brightened, Eldarion was pushed into the room. He went into a complete stand still at what he saw.
Gold.
Lots and lots of gold. In the chests, on the floor, against the wall. There were gold coins, golden chalices, golden figurines, golden mailshirts, golden armors, golden blades…Everything was in gold.
Well, not everything. There were a lot of other riches as well. Diamonds and pearls glittered in their cases. Expensive oliphaunt tusks lay in a heap in one corner while a mountain of fine pelts lay in the other. Rare paintings and tapestries graced the walls, as exquisite looking artifacts stood proud on their pedestals.
Eldarion's head was reeling. He had never seen such amount of wealth in one single place. He didn't even know it was possible.
Why is Movrak showing this to me? What is he trying to prove? By the Valar. What does he really want from me?
"Wait us outside," the merchant curtly ordered his guardsmen, his eyes never leaving Eldarion. The two men bowed slightly and retreated through the doorway. When they were finally alone, Movrak slowly walked around, surrounded by his wealth and treasure.
"This is all mine," he proudly said, "Every shilling, every piece of jewel, every speck of gold dust. All mine."
"You brought me here so that you can gloat?" Eldarion snapped. "If that is so, you are just making me sick!"
His eyes a bit wild, the young prince looked around and saw the long blades hanging from their pegs on the wall. He made a move to grab one of them.
Movrak was faster. He yanked out the nearest sword and placed himself between Eldarion and the lovely weapons. "Tsk. Tsk. Silly boy. You really want to kill me, do you? Come now. Let's be reasonable. I may be a merchant but I'm no fool at swordplay. You are a mere slave, and still too young at that. If I want to, I can kill you as easy as I bought you."
"So you wish!" Eldarion ground his teeth, his temper boiling over as he cursed the shackles on his wrists and feet that hampered his movements.
Chuckling, Movrak gripped the boy by the arm and pulled him away from the weapons towards the far end of the room where several gold-plated caskets rested on a dais. Eldarion's steps faltered when he realized what they were. Totally bewildered, he stared in disbelief at the sarcophaguses.
"Those…those are…err…" he stuttered, pointing at them with shaking finger.
Movrak laughed, absolutely delighted. "Yes, they are. Those are what remain of my ancestors."
"You keep them in here?" Eldarion took a step backward, scandalous. "Among your treasure?"
"Of course. They are quite valuable themselves. Don't you know how much a hundred-year-old body worth these days? Priceless!"
Horrified, Eldarion gaped at the man in front of him. "You have a sick mind, Movrak."
"And why did you say so?"
"Have you no respect for the dead? They need to be placed in a tomb, not in your treasure vault!"
Movrak grinned. "Actually, my dear boy, this is a tomb. I had improvised, you see. The space down here is vast, so why should I let it go to waste? Better use it this way, sharing my riches with my dead ancestors. It's quite overwhelming, don't you agree? "
Eldarion staggered backwards, thoroughly revolted. "You're sick, Movrak. You're really, really sick."
The merchant just threw back his head and laughed out loud at the boy's reaction. Still laughing, the man stood next to the largest sarcophagus and started to push the lid.
"What the heck are you doing?" Eldarion grew panic.
"I want to show you something. Help me here, will you?"
"No, I won't!" the boy refused. "Do your dirty work yourself...!"
"Push the lid or I will put you under 'The Rock' like you deserve!" the man suddenly shouted, his face livid with anger. "I'm your master, now do what I told you to do!"
Eldarion glared back in defiance. Then, with muscles twitching in his jaw from his resentment, he leaned down and began pushing. The heavy piece of stone slab moved on his second try, emitting such a high grating sound that rattled his teeth. He stepped back without looking inside, his face pale with dread.
"Come, take a look, boy."
Reluctantly, Eldarion moved forward again to peek inside the sarcophagus. There lay the remains of a body, just like he had expected. He saw the sunken face, the empty eye sockets, the grinning teeth, the blackened flesh, the hole where a nose was supposed to be, the…
The young prince quickly pulled back and turned away, unable to watch anymore. "Who…who is that?"
"My great-great-great-grandsire. An exceptional warrior in his own time."
Taking a deep breath, Eldarion tried to pull himself together. "Why are you showing his body to me?"
"Oh, he is not what I really wanted to show you, but this. Look."
With a slight grimace, Movrak bent over to reach inside the sarcophagus. He took something from between the corpse's folded hands and showed it to Eldarion. "Do you know what this is?'
Eldarion stared, transfixed. "It's a crown."
It was indeed a crown, made of finest silver and shaped into a smooth fillet that could fit the head of a male adult. The design was intricate, created by the very best of silversmiths. But what caught Eldarion's most interest was the symbol stamped on its front.
The symbol was in the shape of a white tree.
The Gondorim's White Tree.
Eldarion didn't know how long he stood that way, gaping stupidly at the circlet in Movrak's hands. "Where…did you get that?"
The elder man chuckled and he playfully placed the circlet atop his own head. "Did you know how Isildur die?"
"Isildur? The…man who d…destroyed Sauron that…that very first time?" Eldarion was stammering in his growing excitement. "They said he…he was killed by his own guards, fighting over The Ring."
"That could be true. It all happened hundreds of years ago, and I have heard hundreds of stories about the manner of his death." Movrak shrugged indifferently. "But do you know what happened to the crown he wore the day he died?"
Eldarion was completely numb from shock.
"You are wearing it now," he softly said, his head shaking in disbelief. "H…how did you come by it?"
Smiling proudly, Movrak took off the circlet and placed it back inside the coffin. He pushed the lid close before he explained, "It's a family heirloom. Somehow, it fell under the possession of my great-great-great-grandsire. Oh, you know how it was those days, always filled with lies and deceit, betrayals and murders. No one can prove that a Haradrim had killed Isildur but…a Haradrim now has his crown."
"But why show it to me?" Eldarion's anxiety grew, afraid that Movrak had discovered his true identity.
"Because I want you to know all the great things that I can give you, everything that you wish for; fine clothes, comfortable bed, tasty food, jewels, everything…if only you would submit to me."
Movrak stepped closer until his face was just inches away from Eldarion's. His gaze sharpened, pleased with what he saw. He noticed how smooth the young skin was under the dirt and blood, how striking the blue-gray eyes were in its furious glare, and how lovely the shape of the lips was. Whoever this boy's parents were, they must be a very beautiful couple.
Eldarion stood unflinching as he suffered the man's scrutiny. "What do you want of me?"
Movrak smiled. He lifted his hand and cupped the boy's cheek. "Be my willing consort."
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The man stood alone at the parapet, facing south, staring fixedly at the distance. Not long after, his wife joined him, looking as serene and lovely as ever. They held hands without speaking or looking at each other, immersed in their own thoughts but aware of the other's presence.
The late zephyr was blowing through their hair and tugging at their clothes. A flock of gulls flew overhead, heading towards the sea. The sun was making its descent in the west, giving way to the moon and the stars. The citadel sentry was changing shift. It was to be a start of another night, and tomorrow would be another new day.
"Two weeks," Aragorn suddenly spoke, "Two weeks now that our son has been gone."
Arwen clutched her husband's hand tighter. "They will find him. They will bring him back."
He nodded. "Yes, they will. But the question is 'when'? I can't wait any longer."
"Have patience, my love. All will be well, you'll see."
Smiling, he turned to face her and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "How are our guests doing?"
She laughed. "Chomping at the bit!"
"They are still mad, aren't they?" Aragorn grinned as he recalled the reactions he had received earlier in the day when he told them about Legolas and Keldarion.
"They vow to put their feeble-minded—their words, not mine—husbands in manacles when those two brothers return home." Arwen was still giggling. "Lord Thranduil simply wants to ram some cow brains down their ears!"
"Kel and Legolas should have brought a company of escort with them," Aragorn stated, laughing out loud. "That would not have made their family so angry."
"Oh, I have something else to tell you," Arwen said, smiling mischievously. "Kylea just arrived."
Aragorn was so shock that he choked on his own laughter. Coughing and wheezing and thumping at his chest, he stared at her in bewilderment. "Kylea what!"
"Gallard's wife has just arrived with her troop from Tasqamaran," she explained, "She is looking for her husband."
He blinked. "But Gallard is not here."
"That's what I told her. After she found out that Gallard could not possibly have been in Ithilien while Legolas is away to find our son, she decided to wait here until he returns."
"But how would Legolas know where Gallard is?" Aragorn was highly puzzled. "The two haven't seen each other for months!"
Arwen gave him a droll look. "You're sure about that?"
He slowly grinned. "Right. Knowing those two, anything is possible. Somehow, Gallard might have found Legolas and Kel somewhere, and they are sitting together, having tea, right as we speak!"
Sighing, he wrapped his arm around her slim shoulders, pulled her closer, and walked away from the parapet. "Come on. Let's go smooth our guests' ruffled feathers."
TBC…