The armoury -- The Quest Continues...

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Subject: The armoury

Author:
Vomyr

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Date Posted: 18:58:02 09/10/02 Tue

Vomyr let out a minute gasp as he surveyed the armouries.

They were immaculate.

"Vomyr, what is going on?" the king asked in confusion.
"I...I don't know," he had to answer. He hadn't been able to get within ten meters of the armouries earlier due to the immence heat but there had quite clearly been an extreamly hot and rampageous fire burning quite happily in Gondor's weapon store, the swords themselves melting into shining rivers that ran, criss crossing over the marble floor, the wooden shafts of a multitude of arrows crumbling to ash. Yet as he gazed around the room it was hard to believe there had ever been a fire at all.

"I can't pretend to understand what's happened here," Elessar declared quietly, "but I'm glad the armouries are alright. We would've had a hard time facing Sauron weaponless." He turned and paced from the room. The elf looked suspciously at Vomyr before following his friend.

You're surprised.
"You!" he hissed, conscious the girl hadn't left yet. "You did this." It wasn't a question.
Half of it. As always the voice carried with it a sense of sly amusement. Guess which part.
"I don't need to guess," he snapped loudly before reconsidering and adding more quietly. "Who foiled you this time?"
So bitter Vomyr the watcher remarked. But you guessed wrong. No, the fire wasn't my work. I thought it slightly unfair to pit Elessar against the Dark Lord completely unarmed.
"You expect me to believe that?"
Perhaps you're right. No paticularly credible I admit. I shall keep my real reasons to myself though.
Do whatever you like. Why don't you just stay away from me? Vomyr thought back furiously, finally abandoning speech. It's not like I even help you anymore.
You could though. I'm keeping you in reserve.
Forget it.

Then as quickly as it had come the unwelcome presence in his mind was gone. Vomyr shuddered involentarily, each confrontation, however indirect, seemed to take something from him. The sense of helplessness always threatening to overpower him.

Maybe this time I've won, he thought hopefully. Don't count on it the more sensible part of his brain commented.

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