| Subject: Aftermath |
Author:
Namün (and Keth)
| [ Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted: 19:24:14 05/18/02 Sat
Dust and silence filled the air. Shock was written on every face. For several long seconds, nobody moved, nobody spoke.
Gradually, like the humming of bees, murmurs started up. They spread in number and volume, a gradually swelling crescendo, until the air reverberated with angry shouts.
Townsfolk began to swarm over the barriers, seeking vengeance for the money lost on wagers. Many warriors rose quickly and, drawing their swords, formed a protective ring around the King and Deollyn. Others stopped more commoners from entering the fray.
Trembling, Namün rose to her feet. In the packed stands, she had nowhere to go. Nowhere but down. Forcing her way forward she lifted her skirts and climbed over the sturdy guard rail that prevented Minas Tirith's rich and important from falling forward into the arena. A young warrior lowered his sword and caught her as she jumped, setting her gently down on the ground.
"Thank you." she told him distractedly, eyes already on where Aragorn stood motionless over the body of his foe.
Then she turned back, scanning the face of the man who had helped her. He looked familiar.
"Keth?" she asked.
He nodded. "It's been a long time, Namün."
"It has." she said guardedly. "I'm sorry, I can't talk now. I have to get to him."
Without bothering to explain she turned away, trying to force a path through the ever gathering crowds. Someone took her hand.
"Let me." Keth smiled at her, using the tip of his sword to part the mob. She followed him through, the gap closing up again behind her. Finally they reached the front, and a new obstacle. Madjael stood there, huge and impressive, an impenetrable barrier.
It was the first time she'd seen him since she’d left, and the circumstances could have been better. The hurt expression in his eyes when he looked at her showed all to plainly that he knew why she was there.
"Please Madjael," she whispered, "let me pass."
He stared at her for a long time, face hard as stone. The seconds ticked by, the sound of the mob grew distant.
Finally, reluctantly, he lowered his sword enough for her to get past. She gently touched his arm, conveying her thanks. It must have been hard for him to let her go, knowing she was on her way to another man.
Stepping into the circle was like stepping into a new world. On the outside, anger and chaos reigned. The inside was motionless; even the dust lay still now. Now that she was here, she wasn’t sure what to do. Every instinct wanted to go to Aragorn and hold him close to her, but she couldn’t. She was his mistress, not his wife. Unless he chose to recognise her publicly, she assumed he wanted to keep her a secret.
To mask her confusion, she went to Deollyn’s side and knelt. Feeling the side of his neck, she felt a pulse. It was just a flicker, but it was enough. He was still alive.
She looked up. "Aragorn!" she said urgently. He was staring straight ahead, unseeing and unreacting. Reaching over Deollyn, she tugged insistently at the base of his tunic.
"Aragorn!"
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
] |
|
Feedback: 