Of Roses and Thorns:
Chapter 5: Strangers in the dark
(Date: TA 4th July 3018 or in Shire Reckoning 1418)
(Locations: Minas Tirith)
It hit me.
A moment of single genius that spread towards me like one of the shooting stars in the dark and cold sky.
If you can't get past a problem; then escape it.
"Can't catch me Faramir!" she cried tauntingly as she dove left and right in order to escape her brother's bear like embrace. Such joy was plastered upon her face as she ran across the cobbled walkways of the market and up the stairs of the citadel. Her brother followed like a warg demented as he tried to catch this elegant prey. Higher and higher they climbed and dashed before reaching the emerald gardens of the citadel. "Come on slowpoke, you'll never catch me if your as slow as that!" she gloated as her brother drove her towards the forever dead tree of Gondor. The guards smiled as she passed between them and reminiscent of times old when the youthened adventure was all the danger that they could envision. Truelly it is the job of the old to wish for youth while the youthened wish for the old.
"Got you!" A deep-toned shout rang out as the giant figure of Boromir leapt out of the shadows of the tree and took hold of his sisters waist. He twirled around a few turns while Luthien giggled and wrestled with his grasp before putting her down and messing up her ebony locks so that she looked half-wild. "Luthien, have you been taunting your poor, defenceless brother all morning?" he asked with an attempted atmosphere of seriousness that was besieged with glee. Boromir wore his usual Gondorian Armor, proudly gleaming in the sunlight. He was most handsome, dashing to the point that many a lady had given him their favour in utter captivation. It was not to be however as he refused to show any such gentleness to them and stated many times that the only women in his life that could make him happy was his sister and the cooks with their many crude jokes while he ravenously devoured their works. He had a rugged kind of dashing, and an almost blunt manner to many things. No surprise was it that the ladies wept on his decision not to show any such affection to them.
"Yes Boromir, and all afternoon too!" She chatted in a childish gloat. Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she insolently looked at her shoes. This did not help her, due to the amount of dirt and mud that had gathered on them due to her rather active games. There was barely any of the original colour left. The hem of her skirt was frayed and dirtier while her long black hair wildly leapt from the strict styling that it was forced into. truly she was a wild thing, for instead of quietly embroidering in a corner with the rest of the demure women she chose to practice in the masculine arts of war and weaponry. This was not amiss from many topics of gossip in the court circles, but could not be helped due to her stubborn nature and the joy they received at her quaint humour similar to that of her elder brother. Of course there were the obvious threats of this lifestyle disappearing when she matured but for now they were content to let the subject slide in the wake of her youth.
"Good girl!" He laughed with a gait of merry humor as he seemingly ignored his brothers protects in delight at the game. "He could do with some exercise couldn't he princess?" he mocked playfully as Luthien giggled like a softened bell before hugging her brother time however, she grabbed his helmet off his head and ran towards marble staircase. Boromir gave chase but Luthien evaded him with simple ease, teasing him for his attempts to capture her. She cradled in one hand her brother's helmet while the other helped her lift her skirts for the run.
"Can't catch me!" She dashed inside the great hall, swerving past the stone doors as she taunted Boromir. The room was only populated by a few select servants scurrying in order to clean the white marble and air the intricate banners and tapestries along with polishing the statues of the kings of old. The empty seat of the kings lay in an almost ominous state, above the meager servants and proudly waiting for the future king to return. The black seat of the stewards lay at its feet like a hunting dog at its master's feet. It too was empty but had more wear in it then the throne of kings from all of the men sitting on it. Truelly it was less magnificent to look at then the white seat of kings but held a solemn air of dignity in its own right.
"Luthien, father told us that we're not allowed in here. Come along quickly before he comes back!" The cold voice of Faramir echoed in the hollow hall, and had an urgency to it. Of course, being younger than Boromir, Faramir was far less along in maturity but still held the handsome nature of his station. His eyes were kindly, wise and compassionate towards others. He was the scholar, the thinker and the diplomat in the family. The most wise yet the most nieve of them all, a curious combination.
"But I want to explore! Why can't I stay, it's not like I'm hurting anyone?" Luthien's childlike pleads fell on deaf ears as her brothers insisted in her removal. She began to skip back the doors and had almost reached them had it not have been for the sudden roar of her father that both surprised and frightened her into tripping over. Everyone knew the infamous rages of the steward and most were keen to stay out of his way. He stopped dead as he observed the little girl, his own daughter, in his hall before deflecting his rage onto her.
"How dare you come in here!" he roared at her while tears began to form in Luthien's eyes. She scrambled to get away but fell on the marble floor and scrapped her knees. "Did I give you permission to come in here, no! Now get out! Get out!" he continuously screamed at her without a single shred of empathy for his own child.
"I'm sorry papa, I'm sorry!" she whimpered as her brothers grabbed her and tried to take out in order to defuse the situation. "I'm so sorry!" she repeated again in a shallow whisper as the doors shut off the view of her father.
Alas those days have gone for the evil from the east has destroyed all what I knew of my old, cheerful life. No more shall I nor my brothers play in our marble fortress or ride in the meadows of Pelenor. No more shall the laughter of children play in sweet harmony with peace. No more shall I be with my kin for I must leave them now in this endless night in order to escape a fate worse than death.
I was quiet.
Tower hall was silent like a crypt by the time I had sneaked my way towards it, with the only light being the faint aura of the moon above. All of the servants were most likely in bed now, with many deeply in a state of fatigue after the daily loads of work, leaving the throne room empty. The pressing stares of the marble fixtures pressed needles into my body and made me shiver in fear of them. Stone, yes, but kings no less. I tore my eyes off them in order to concentrate on the task at hand. In front of me was the dais where the empty throne lay decaying and alone. A white marble chair with no occupant to fill it, was all the throne was and yet I felt sorrow at the sight. When will the king return to us? When will we be saved? I asked silently to the statues in helplessly. Prehaps he will never return and prehaps my people will fall. Prehaps that is the final fate of Arda? To fall into decay and solitude till the vast armies of the east devours the remains of the once glorious lands till even the great city of Minas Tirith falls and the tower of my forefathers lies broken upon a territory of darkness. But I must remain focused for now.
Aside the great throne of Gondor, afoot the dais that displayed it, was my father's so-called 'Throne'. It had neither the power or the effect of the king's throne but at this moment it's the most important thing in the world. For it would grant me both freedom and joy while causing pain and regret in the process. What right did I have to disobey my father's demands? I am but a woman, and I have no right to speak of the question the highest of the land. But I must. I refuse to become the trinket of a man, forced to become bondslave to a man who would turn me into something I'm not. I am woman yes, but the blood of the house of the Hurin runs through my veins. The blood of Cirion, wise and strong. The blood of Vorondil, hunter and protector of all.
And most of all? The blood of the Numenoreans. I will never become a slave to those beneath me I swear by all that is right and pure to that. I am no toy for men and now I must prove it. I pulled the latch that triggered a shiver in the chair before it shuddered forward and gave way to a passageway, carved into the very stone of Minas Tirith itself. It built-in case the king were to be barricaded inside this hall, so to give them a way to escape the city with his life and now it would do the same for me.
Cobwebs covered the passage entrance while a ghostly chill escaped through the rush of cold air that blew past me in a bid for freedom, brushing the webs and making them twist and turn in awkward fashions. On the floor were decrepid slabs of cheap stones, quite unlike the quality marble that covered the floor of the hall. A descending stairway dug itself into the bedrock, that was sharp enough to mean death or severe injury if I were to step wrongly or too hastily. The scent of decay smothered me, an indicator of the amount of time this passage had remained in stasis.
I was about to enter the passage and gain the freedom I had hopped for when my keen ears picked up the sound of footsteps coming towards my location. I quietly swore, though genteelly so that my voice did not betray me, and replaced the latch that slowly covered the passageway before hiding behind one of the statues of the fallen kings. I had hoped to be quiet in my escape along with being quick about it before anybody could notice my absence. I had given orders to my servants that I had wanted some air and some time to comprehend my impending marriage, and so thought that if I were hasteful in my departure that it would not have been discovered long enough to allow me to get as far as possible away from Minas Tirith and her keen-eyed scouts.
Now it seems that I will be caught before that even happened, which would make my escape even more harder.
I crouched low and listened in on the commotion; hoping they would leave quickly and not notice my presence. There was two people in the room by then; a blundering fellow and a delicately stepping one who danced his way instead of dragging his paws on the marble floor. Who were these men and why do they choose to meet here now in the shadow of the moonlight? "Hathor, my friend, it is dangerous to be seen together. I hope you have a good excuse for us both to be risking our necks!" the voice was male, and I recognised it as being the voice of Adanion, was a master of trade in the lower districts, and had amassed a large fortune in supplying the city in an arrange of products from the realm. Why was it dangerous for them to meet?
There are no laws over meeting the lord of trade; in fact it was generally more encouraged to see him in order to secure deals that would give them the best foods and wines against those close to them. Hathor, being a new arrival, would have a duty to go to him for supplies and so it was strange that it would be dangerous for him to see Adanion. What was going on? "The plan is in motion good sir, I oversaw it myself!" the monotoned voice of Hathor, my future intended, startled me. What plan did he have? It was dangerous apparently, but what's dangerous about Minas Tirith? Other than the threat of invasion, torture and death at the hands of the enemy, of course.
"And what about the girl?" the elder gentleman asked offhandedly in a bored tone. It took a few moments before I realised he was talking about me! What do I have to do with this top-secret plan? I haven't done anything bad at all this year, unless you count time I stole a sweetmeat from the kitchen. It wasn't like I was going to ask that dragon woman of a cook. Other then that, I've been a perfect daughter, well I suppose running away from a marriage proposal counts as a bad thing. I don't understand. "What about her?" Yes, what of me? This man was meant to be my husband, but he is definitely going to be left at the altar if he thinks that he'll have me. I am as wild as the wind, howling across the misty mountain range. He will never catch me, nor will anybody else for that matter, if they go away and let me be free from his vile clutches.
"She's his daughter is she not? Would you consider marrying his offspring?" What has father done now to Hathor to annoy him so badly and make anger towards him grow bold? I know that he is of unsound behavior on occasion and I am sure of his cruelty, but it's not like he's a bad steward nor leader. He has of course, lost my respect as a father but as a leader he is great. It just depends if his pride will overrule his logic at times. Maybe I am too cruel to him, after all his duty is to protect Gondor and by marrying me off, he will accomplish this. I am his daughter and I shouldn't be doing this. I should follow his orders as dutifully as a daughter should but I just ... can't.
"Of course not, for my hand is as free as my appetite! I'll just make her a slave in the pits somewhere or a maid for the boys. I know how they never get the touch of a woman, and I'd hate to be selfish. After all, she is but dirt is she not? Looking so haughty and prideful, as if she owns the entire world. Fed with a silver spoon while her people begged on the streets, what filth she is compared to us who slave away in hopes of earning a meager handful of stale crusts!" he cackled in a un-dignified manner, while I controlled my fearful shaking.
How dare he question my station and the rights I have due to it? I am not of that sort who kick beggar men in the streets when they try to ask for scraps for their families; I think it's honourable for them to do so. They forgo their dignity and pride in order to feed their families and are as selfless as any man or woman. I always pride myself on following my mother's example, may the Valor have peace on her eternal soul, to give charity and compassion to those unfortunate. I always give away pennies to those on the streets, I have often given away the scraps of food left over from great feasts held here and I've never spoken to them unkindly. Then there was that comment about having me as a slave or as a plaything for his male friends. How dare he impose on my honour like that! I would rather die then become a .. a whore! I had to force myself not to leap up from my hiding spot and kill them for such a remark.
"Then we shall celebrate my dear brother in arms, for with Glandur and Urúvion's help, we shall soon see the destruction of Gondor and the death of that fool Denethor!" Adanion cackled wickedly as I fought back a cry of fear. Father! He ... he wants to kill father! By the great spirits of the earth, he wishes to smite him. My eyes went white in terror, what can I do? What in the world can I do about this? Theres only one thing for it, I have to stay. I have no choice for if I do not then father is as good as dead. No one else knows of this betrayal and no one would believe me if I told them of it. The other two conspirators were high rising men in the area of providing weapons for the war effort; I knew them well. So, I suppose the only way to save my father is to kill these men. Sir Hathor, Glandur, Urúvion and Adanion. After that I will be hunted down and executed for murder, unless I have a safe place to retreat to when the deed is done. But where?
The footsteps of the men faded away, as I considered where this safe place would be. I stayed close to the shadows and made my way back to my rooms, out of the eye line of those who walked the halls at this late hour. The dwelling places of men are in the regions of Rohan, Bree, Dale and Dol Amroth. Rohan is weak and crumbling while Dol Amroth is constantly being attacked so they're neither reliable or safe places for me to go. Dale is a wild and rustic region and so I must go to Bree and hope that maybe I could find passage to the Mithlond or its surrounding ports. Then past there I have no idea where to go. Maybe I should explore a bit and create my own city or fade as the west falls to the east which I now think is even more likely. I need help though to get to Bree, a companion if you will, so my journey will be safe and uneventful.
I know how to kill the conspirators now, and I intend to use poison in order to achieve it. It would be risky to engage them head on and so this method would be more logical. I just need to have the help of a close friend in order to coordinate an event where all four men are in the same room. Who can I trust?