| Subject: Mistaken Identity |
Author:
Arwen
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Date Posted: 20:45:35 04/10/02 Wed
It was only as she made her way back home down the narrow side street that Arwen noticed a lack of people. For this, she was thankful, she wanted no-one to see her, what if they noticed her pregnancy? (This chance was small, but she felt very self-consious.) She knew she would stand out in a crowd, so panicking she did the only thing she could think of. Disguise. Checking again that there was nobody around she began cutting her dress. All underskirts off, and she slit the arms and the hem at odd angles. Not knowing how realistic it looked, she continued to cut sections from the dark blue cloth. From a dress worn by a Queen, it had become a peasants rag. She roughly tied a strip of material around her hair, which was most unflattering, she knew. Now the peasant woman made her way up the alley, to the main street.
This was where the people were gathered, lining the sides of the roads. A beefy woman carrying a small child stood beside her.
"Excuse me," Arwen asked, still sounding rather regal,"but what's happening?" The woman gave her a puzzled look, knowing the girl who had spoken did somehow not fit in.
"The King was shot with an arrow. Didn't you know? He came this way just a minute ago. Didn't look well an all."
That would mean Aragorn would be back at the palace by now, how long before they noticed her absence? She hurried along the main street to the palace gates, which was swarmed in people.
Arwen drew closer, and noticed the gates were bolted tight. A single guard stood stationed, not letting anyone pass through. She pushed through the crowds, and up to the man, other peoples dirt and grim rubbing onto her.
"Please," she whispered in his ear, "I've got to get inside. Don't you know who I am?" The guard looked, and saw a pushy peasant woman intent on probably empting the palace of its valuables, not the elegant Queen Arwen had prayed for.
"Sorry love. No one in, no one out. That's my orders." The man replied, having dealt with many more like her.
Arwen drew on her last option. Grabbing the knife with her left hand she forced it to his throat. Through gritted teeth she spoke.
"You let me in, or you won't get any more orders, understand?" She pushed a litle harder, making him squeak in fright. Suddenly, there was a new voice, and Arwen felt her right arm shoved halfway up her back.
"I don't think so, madam," Her captor said, "now, we'll have less of that. Don't struggle, you're outnumbered four to one. Come with me."
The guard lead Arwen a long walk down from the centre of the city. She kept her head hung, now not wanting to be recongnised by guards. When she did glance up, she noticed they where nearing the city walls.
"Why are we going here? Don't you know who I am?" Was her desperate plea. The guards had hear it all before I'm important you know, they'd squeal, I'm a relation of the King.
"We've coming here, because this is where the gates are. And yes, I know who you are, you're a trouble maker!" The guard answered from behind her. They stopped near the group of guards stationed at the gates. Pulling Arwen roughly round he spoke to them. "Keep this one outside the walls for a bit, untill the crowds die down, and longer." The last phrase had been said with a malicious glint in his eye, and purely done to scare his prisoner. A small door next to the gates creaked open. Her guard forced her forwards, through the hole. With a slam the door shut, causing her to fall- outside Minas Tirith.
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