|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
SilenceHe was helpless, and more then frustrated because of it. They had taken Estel from his side, and bound him here against the cold stone. The the crushing weight of the walls pressed in on him, the stone never ceasing to remind him of how much earth there was between him and the open skies above. The darkness of the cell was absolute, and the silence twofold of that. Somewhere, somewhere they had taken Estel, no doubt with ill intent in order to gain the information he himself would not give. It had been easier before, when they had each others' shoulders to lean on, something to focus their attention on other then the promise of impending pain; but now, it was nearly more then he could bear. This feeling of hopelessness, of needing to do something, yet unable to, it was a foreign emotion to him. Only now, was he fully beginning to understand the depth of it. Somewhere out there, Estel was suffering, and he could do nothing, not even whisper words of comfort to ease the pain.
Water's CorruptionExtracts from Erestor's journal upon the most recent-and distressing- events.
These past few weeks have truly begun to take their toll on everyone here. There was once a time when would mention the good news first, but I no longer know what to consider good news anymore. The search parties found the orcs' lair, nestled deep in the misty mountains between here and Lorien, and the Lady Celebrían whom we had not heard from for altogether too long. That joy lasted all of a few short seconds as we realized the extent of her treatment at their hands. For six days now, Elrond has barely left her chamber, leaving only to request more supplies, and finally for sleep and nourishment with my utmost insistence.
As a healer, he's done all he can, and it's not enough. Though not one myself, it is more than evident in his listless tone, the dull look in his eyes on the rare times he does make eye contact with anyone. As a husband, he refuses to admit it. He would not leave her
All the FasterENTRANCE TO THE PRANCING PONY
ARAGORN limps in, strongly favoring his right leg.
A fair evening to you, Barliman. Is Mithra- ah, Gandalf in yet tonight?
He's comin' in again? Seems he was just in the other week! Strange fellow he is.. gone for months at a time, only to show up twice in the same week. But no, he isn't here. Are you expectin' him?
(grimaces- whether in pain or the thought- it is not
Of sorts. In the meantime, is there a table open?
Aye, there is. You Rangers' corner is open, as usual. Anythin' I can get you?
A pint of your best brew would be warmly welcomed.
ARAGORN exchanges a few coins for the mug before slowly making his way to the darkened corner, which is slightly behind the crackling hearth.
ARAGORN eases himself into the hard wooden chair with a sigh of relief and hiss of pain as he stretches out his leg. A red stained bandage is just visible around his lower leg.
ARAGORN is about to examine it
Sara'ore - part 1His was a face not easily forgotten, features carved as if from stone. The high forehead and narrow eyebrows gave way to the severe nose which in turn led to the grim mouth that never seemed to smile. He strode through the courtyard, a package clasped in one boney hand, the other deep in a pocket, twisting a small glass bottle between two fingers. With his stern visage asked in the deep shadow of his hood, the cloaked figure traveled the well worn path into the hard of the compact city. The wind gusted through the silent streets, tossing the red-hued dust into the air as it blew around the corners of the empty buildings and fanned out his stiff cloak. He did not stop, but drew a thin veil across the lower half of his face, further obscuring his stern features as he turned a corner, nearly at his destination. He raised a thinly gloved hand and knocked twice as the coming storm rumbled in the distance.
The door silently slid open a crack, revealing only a sl
Nole i AtaroNólë i Ataro
EMPTY, DRIZZLING WOOD
A hooded figure enters the sheltered clearing, ARAGORN leans against a wide tree, a hood cover his face.
The world has been turned upside
down, I barely recognize anything
for what it was before. Our history
has changed so much. How can
anything be returned to what it
It cannot, Strider, you of all
should know that.
Then what are we to do? The wilds
do not accept us, those of our own
race do not,
and even Imladris is no longer mine
to call home.
The OLDER RANGER turns, and leaves.
(derisively, over his shoulder)
That, Strider, is the question we
all seek. There is nothing that we
can do. All you can do is continue
on with life as best you're able.
Grow up, and see the world for what
ARAGORN watches him leave, smoldering.
(under his breath)
Grow up. Is that all that you say?
What do you know of growing up?
ScriptFrenzy Bios: LisseleAlthough in her late forties, Lissele, the all around serving maid, had not lost the fiery temper that she was known for. Although dressed in the traditionally formal solid black dress and white frilled apron and cap, Lissele has no difficulties in assuring the others of her seniority over them. Although she may disagree with Aturas' orders at time, she knows enough to know when to back down.
With great dedication, she has worked herself up to this postion, and now has near complete run of the mansion- answering only to the Master of the house, Arturas, and his son Medhol.
ScriptFrenzy Bios: ButlerThe loyalty of friends, the promise of danger, he knew these things all to well. On the other side, he also knew the phenomena called survivor's guilt at an intimately personal level. That had been the main reason for his change of career- from the agent to the butler. There were, of course, other factors as well. The lack of a working voice, for one thing, and the various other impediments to his health would have severely restricted his uses, and it was far too early to settle for a desk job.
Even if he had been able to speak, Butler suspected that he would not, for a simple reason. There was a certain advantage to being able to take others by surprise, a talent he had learned in his early days as an agent. Butler silently laughed at himself. So much had changed since then, and life was certainly far better the way it was now. The simple role as a servant-and bodyguard-at times suited him just fine; and, if he could get by with scaring a few people, all the better.
Keep in Touch!
Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More