lady_branwyn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lady_branwyn) wrote2011-11-13 09:31 pm
lady_branwyn) wrote2011-11-13 09:31 pm
NaBloPoMo: Day 13
Title: More Things in Heaven and Earth
Source: LOTR
Rating: G
Characters: OCs, Boromir, Faramir
Warnings: None
A/N: This section and the next really should have been done as a prologue. Apologies--I will soon get us back to the ghostly visitor.
*************************
The narrow stairway was cleverly hidden by outcroppings of rock. It twisted and turned up the mountainside, steadily rising until the Citadel was far below. The small party climbed the endless steps, their cloaks and hair streaming in the wind. When Faramir was certain he could go no farther, the stairway suddenly ended. A great iron-bound door was set in the rockface.
Master Lindir carefully knotted a rope around Boromir’s waist. “More than one worker has met his death in the cistern,” the master stonemason told them as he worked.
“Are the corpses still in there?” Boromir asked with a look of mingled horror and disgust.
“Stand still, young lord,” the stonemason replied as he tried to knot the ropes. “No, they must drain the cistern until the corpse is recovered. A mighty task, so I ask you all to take care. The water is low during this time of the year, but never forget to look for signs of rain before entering the tunnels. After a storm, the rising waters are deadly.”
While the stonemason fastened a rope around his waist, Faramir scowled at the empty, blue sky, searching for rain clouds. Far below, a mosaic of brown fields and green pastures shimmered in the heat. How strange to look down on the roof of the White Tower, how strange to see the City streets laid out like a map.
When the rest of the party had been fitted out with ropes, the stonemason unlocked the great door. “The Steward and Lord Hurin also have keys,” he told them. “Though the door is more to keep out bats than any intruders. We just came up the only path.”
Master Lindir led the way, followed in single file by the Steward’s sons and their two guards. An apprentice came last. Each member of the party carried a lantern and a coil of rope. Generations of workers had worn the tunnel floor smooth, and the vaulted ceiling rose high above their heads. The damp air, heavy with a mineral tang, grew steadily cooler as they walked.
The stonemason brought the party to a halt when they reached a flight of stone steps. “Young lords,” he told Faramir and Boromir, “The Steward sent you here to learn of your City’s defenses. For countries may vaunt their armies and wealth, but the true strength of this City lies in the heart of the mountain.” Then he led them up the steps and raised his lantern overhead.
The lantern light sparkled like a fountain in the sun, reflecting from the water to the ceiling far above. Faint blue echoes glimmered in the distant reaches of the cavern, across the vast depths of the lake.
Source: LOTR
Rating: G
Characters: OCs, Boromir, Faramir
Warnings: None
A/N: This section and the next really should have been done as a prologue. Apologies--I will soon get us back to the ghostly visitor.
*************************
The narrow stairway was cleverly hidden by outcroppings of rock. It twisted and turned up the mountainside, steadily rising until the Citadel was far below. The small party climbed the endless steps, their cloaks and hair streaming in the wind. When Faramir was certain he could go no farther, the stairway suddenly ended. A great iron-bound door was set in the rockface.
Master Lindir carefully knotted a rope around Boromir’s waist. “More than one worker has met his death in the cistern,” the master stonemason told them as he worked.
“Are the corpses still in there?” Boromir asked with a look of mingled horror and disgust.
“Stand still, young lord,” the stonemason replied as he tried to knot the ropes. “No, they must drain the cistern until the corpse is recovered. A mighty task, so I ask you all to take care. The water is low during this time of the year, but never forget to look for signs of rain before entering the tunnels. After a storm, the rising waters are deadly.”
While the stonemason fastened a rope around his waist, Faramir scowled at the empty, blue sky, searching for rain clouds. Far below, a mosaic of brown fields and green pastures shimmered in the heat. How strange to look down on the roof of the White Tower, how strange to see the City streets laid out like a map.
When the rest of the party had been fitted out with ropes, the stonemason unlocked the great door. “The Steward and Lord Hurin also have keys,” he told them. “Though the door is more to keep out bats than any intruders. We just came up the only path.”
Master Lindir led the way, followed in single file by the Steward’s sons and their two guards. An apprentice came last. Each member of the party carried a lantern and a coil of rope. Generations of workers had worn the tunnel floor smooth, and the vaulted ceiling rose high above their heads. The damp air, heavy with a mineral tang, grew steadily cooler as they walked.
The stonemason brought the party to a halt when they reached a flight of stone steps. “Young lords,” he told Faramir and Boromir, “The Steward sent you here to learn of your City’s defenses. For countries may vaunt their armies and wealth, but the true strength of this City lies in the heart of the mountain.” Then he led them up the steps and raised his lantern overhead.
The lantern light sparkled like a fountain in the sun, reflecting from the water to the ceiling far above. Faint blue echoes glimmered in the distant reaches of the cavern, across the vast depths of the lake.