NaBloPoMo: Day 11 (A Little Late)
Nov. 12th, 2011 12:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lady_branwynTitle: More Things in Heaven and Earth
Rating: G
Source: LOTR
Characters: OCs, canon characters
With apologies to Shakespeare and Tolkien.
************************************
One week before Mettarë, 3019
In the early morning hours, there was no place more desolate than the ramparts of Minas Tirith. The stones glittered with frost, and the moonlight only made the shadows look darker. Drawing his cloak closer, Eldahil joined the two sentries who were trying to warm their hands at a sputtering, cheerless fire.
“Not too much longer, Captain,” one of the soldiers said by way of greeting. “At the midnight hour, it appears on top of that parapet. Hooded and cloaked, it speaks not a word but walks with the jangle of harness, back and forth as if it can find no rest. They say that in the waning of the year, the unseen world is closer, and the recent dead return to finish duties left undone.”
“If that were so, my good Mardil, I fear that these ramparts would be overrun,” Eldahil said with a wry smile, for this had been a year of grievous slaughter. “Have others seen this sight besides you and Eradan?”
Mardil shook his head. “It first appeared two nights ago while we stood the midnight watch. We have spoken to none but you, sir. I would not believe my own eyes if Eradan had not seen it too.”
In his twenty years as an officer, Eldahil had heard some wild tales from his men, but these two were tough, old campaigners and about as fanciful as a pile of rocks. Though it seemed unlikely that a spirit walked the ramparts, they must have seen something or they would not have troubled their captain with this tale. Armed with his sword and a flask of good brandy, Eldahil had decided to join the midnight watch. As wind blew from the snowcapped heights above, he thought with longing of his featherbed and pillows while the sentries tried in vain to revive the sickly watch fire.
“Would you like some tea, sir?” Eradan held up a battered kettle then started as the city bell began to strike. The cold air rang with the slow, solemn tones for midnight. Stumbling to their feet, the three men turned and stared at the wall.
“Valar help us,” Eldahil whispered. Just as the sentries had described, a tall figure stood on the parapet, hood drawn over its face.
“Perhaps if you speak with it, Captain,” Mardil told him. To his credit, there was only the slightest quaver in his voice. “You are a scholar and learned in ancient lore.”
“What?” Eldahil asked, his surprise distracting him from utter terror. No one had ever accused him of being a learned man.
“It might listen to a scholar, sir, instead of common soldiers like us.”
“Ah, indeed,” Eldahil said with more confidence than he felt. He could not take his eyes from the creature striding along the parapet. There was something oddly familiar about its gait, though he could not say what. “Unquiet spirit,” he called loudly, “Cease thy—“ He stopped a moment to think. "Cease thy restless patrol of the ramparts. I charge thee speak and tell us what thou seekest.”
“Look, Captain! It has halted its march.”
Encouraged, Eldahil continued, “Pray tell what thou seekest that we may aid thee, unhappy ghost.” When there was no response, he added, “And if this is someone’s sorry notion of a jest, then know that you face the terrible wrath of Captain Eldahil for hauling my arse out in the cold when it is my well-earned turn to sleep.”
The figure squinted at him from under the hood. “Eldahil? Is that you?”
TBC....
Rating: G
Source: LOTR
Characters: OCs, canon characters
With apologies to Shakespeare and Tolkien.
************************************
One week before Mettarë, 3019
In the early morning hours, there was no place more desolate than the ramparts of Minas Tirith. The stones glittered with frost, and the moonlight only made the shadows look darker. Drawing his cloak closer, Eldahil joined the two sentries who were trying to warm their hands at a sputtering, cheerless fire.
“Not too much longer, Captain,” one of the soldiers said by way of greeting. “At the midnight hour, it appears on top of that parapet. Hooded and cloaked, it speaks not a word but walks with the jangle of harness, back and forth as if it can find no rest. They say that in the waning of the year, the unseen world is closer, and the recent dead return to finish duties left undone.”
“If that were so, my good Mardil, I fear that these ramparts would be overrun,” Eldahil said with a wry smile, for this had been a year of grievous slaughter. “Have others seen this sight besides you and Eradan?”
Mardil shook his head. “It first appeared two nights ago while we stood the midnight watch. We have spoken to none but you, sir. I would not believe my own eyes if Eradan had not seen it too.”
In his twenty years as an officer, Eldahil had heard some wild tales from his men, but these two were tough, old campaigners and about as fanciful as a pile of rocks. Though it seemed unlikely that a spirit walked the ramparts, they must have seen something or they would not have troubled their captain with this tale. Armed with his sword and a flask of good brandy, Eldahil had decided to join the midnight watch. As wind blew from the snowcapped heights above, he thought with longing of his featherbed and pillows while the sentries tried in vain to revive the sickly watch fire.
“Would you like some tea, sir?” Eradan held up a battered kettle then started as the city bell began to strike. The cold air rang with the slow, solemn tones for midnight. Stumbling to their feet, the three men turned and stared at the wall.
“Valar help us,” Eldahil whispered. Just as the sentries had described, a tall figure stood on the parapet, hood drawn over its face.
“Perhaps if you speak with it, Captain,” Mardil told him. To his credit, there was only the slightest quaver in his voice. “You are a scholar and learned in ancient lore.”
“What?” Eldahil asked, his surprise distracting him from utter terror. No one had ever accused him of being a learned man.
“It might listen to a scholar, sir, instead of common soldiers like us.”
“Ah, indeed,” Eldahil said with more confidence than he felt. He could not take his eyes from the creature striding along the parapet. There was something oddly familiar about its gait, though he could not say what. “Unquiet spirit,” he called loudly, “Cease thy—“ He stopped a moment to think. "Cease thy restless patrol of the ramparts. I charge thee speak and tell us what thou seekest.”
“Look, Captain! It has halted its march.”
Encouraged, Eldahil continued, “Pray tell what thou seekest that we may aid thee, unhappy ghost.” When there was no response, he added, “And if this is someone’s sorry notion of a jest, then know that you face the terrible wrath of Captain Eldahil for hauling my arse out in the cold when it is my well-earned turn to sleep.”
The figure squinted at him from under the hood. “Eldahil? Is that you?”
TBC....
