lady_branwyn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lady_branwyn) wrote2011-11-15 10:40 pm
lady_branwyn) wrote2011-11-15 10:40 pm
NaBloPoMo: Day 15
Title: More Things in Heaven and Earth
Source: LOTR
Rating: G
Characters: OCs, Boromir, Faramir
Warnings: None
A/N: This section and the previous one really should have been done as a prologue. Apologies--I will soon get us back to the ghostly visitor.
“Ooh,” Faramir whispered loudly then heard his own voice call back at him from several directions.
“Hallo! Hallo!” Boromir shouted. The words bounced from wall to wall in a cascade of echoes.
When the noise had at last died down, the stonemason said, “There are two silent captains who ride with the Enemy’s armies. Their names are Thirst and Pestilence, and as surely as any battering ram, these captains can breach the strongest walls. Without this great store of water, our City could not long withstand a siege.”
“What if it dries up after a drought?” Boromir asked.
“That will never happen, young lord. ‘Tis far more likely that the King will come again. This cistern is fed by underground springs.”
Faramir knelt at the edge and peered into the water. “Are there any fish down there?”
Master Lindir nodded. “I have seen only a few. They are strange, pale creatures without any eyes.”
Now they uncoiled the ropes, and Master Lindir fastened the party together, with the Steward’s sons in the middle of the line. Faramir thought they looked like a team of horses. Still trying to imagine the strange, sightless fish, he followed one of the guards along the narrow ledge that skirted the water. As they walked, they heard a dull roaring that grew steadily louder and louder. Ahead, the cavern wall was set with three great gates. As they drew nearer, Faramir saw that one of the gates was raised so that water rushed under it and vanished down a dark tunnel.
“That tunnel fills every fountain and bath in the City,” the stonemason told them. “Any surfeit of water is carried away and dumped outside the walls.”
“Why is there more than one gate?” Boromir asked.
“If the level rises too quickly, we open the other floodgates to release more water.”
The narrow path widened into a broad platform that was littered with piles of stone and wood and refuse from repairs. The party halted, and Master Lindir unfastened them from one another, warning them sternly to stay away from the water’s edge. To emphasize his point, he threw an apple in the lake. It bobbed for a moment near the open gate and then, with a horrible suddenness, was gone.
The nearest gate towered over them, as high as a city wall. They climbed a winding stair so they could see the great pulleys and counterweights that moved it up and down. The two brothers quickly grasped how the mechanism worked, for it was very like in design to the Citadel portcullis.
“Each gate weighs many tons,” the stonemason said, “But such was the marvelous craft of Numenor that it takes only two Men to raise them. Our skill is sadly fallen since those ancient days.”
Before starting the journey back to the Citadel, they sat on the broad platform and ate cold meat pies and apples. After they had finished eating, the brothers wandered around, poking at the heaps of broken tools and rock fragments. Hundreds of workers over hundreds of years had chiseled their names and the year into the cavern wall. Picking up a stone, Boromir scratched Boromir son of Denethor was here 2993.
Faramir leaned down to search for a jagged writing stone so he could add his name to the wall. But among the fragments of masonry, a perfectly round shape caught his eye. “Look!” he shouted as he held up a blackened coin.
Master Lindir hurried over to see his find. “You have unearthed ancient treasure. It would not be the first time that has happened in this cavern. Here, let me clean off the tarnish.” He rubbed the coin with the hem of his tunic then squinted at it by lantern light. “Yes, this is very old. A silver penny from the years of the Great Plague.” He handed the coin back to Faramir.
The silver had been stamped with a little crown surrounded by seven stars. Faramir turned it over to look at the other side. Tarondor—Lord of Gondor—1680 was inscribed in tiny letters. This penny had lain hidden for thirteen hundred years, only to be found by him. He hurried to show his brother, and they both set to work searching for more coins. They found a few nails but nothing else.
When Boromir and Faramir returned to the Citadel, their lord father questioned them at length about the cistern. He seemed pleased with their report on this part of the City’s defenses, though he had never heard of the blind fishes and could not say how it was that they found their food when they had no eyes. He studied the silver penny with great interest.
“You found this near the cistern?” he asked Faramir. “The reign of King Tarondor--that was an evil time. A plague from the east emptied the streets of Osgiliath, and untold thousands died. Yet still our people endured,” he said with the rare flicker of a smile. When he went to hand the penny back, Faramir shook his head. “I want you to have it, Father.”
Years later, after his father’s death, Faramir would find the silver penny tucked away in the Steward’s writing desk.
Source: LOTR
Rating: G
Characters: OCs, Boromir, Faramir
Warnings: None
A/N: This section and the previous one really should have been done as a prologue. Apologies--I will soon get us back to the ghostly visitor.
“Ooh,” Faramir whispered loudly then heard his own voice call back at him from several directions.
“Hallo! Hallo!” Boromir shouted. The words bounced from wall to wall in a cascade of echoes.
When the noise had at last died down, the stonemason said, “There are two silent captains who ride with the Enemy’s armies. Their names are Thirst and Pestilence, and as surely as any battering ram, these captains can breach the strongest walls. Without this great store of water, our City could not long withstand a siege.”
“What if it dries up after a drought?” Boromir asked.
“That will never happen, young lord. ‘Tis far more likely that the King will come again. This cistern is fed by underground springs.”
Faramir knelt at the edge and peered into the water. “Are there any fish down there?”
Master Lindir nodded. “I have seen only a few. They are strange, pale creatures without any eyes.”
Now they uncoiled the ropes, and Master Lindir fastened the party together, with the Steward’s sons in the middle of the line. Faramir thought they looked like a team of horses. Still trying to imagine the strange, sightless fish, he followed one of the guards along the narrow ledge that skirted the water. As they walked, they heard a dull roaring that grew steadily louder and louder. Ahead, the cavern wall was set with three great gates. As they drew nearer, Faramir saw that one of the gates was raised so that water rushed under it and vanished down a dark tunnel.
“That tunnel fills every fountain and bath in the City,” the stonemason told them. “Any surfeit of water is carried away and dumped outside the walls.”
“Why is there more than one gate?” Boromir asked.
“If the level rises too quickly, we open the other floodgates to release more water.”
The narrow path widened into a broad platform that was littered with piles of stone and wood and refuse from repairs. The party halted, and Master Lindir unfastened them from one another, warning them sternly to stay away from the water’s edge. To emphasize his point, he threw an apple in the lake. It bobbed for a moment near the open gate and then, with a horrible suddenness, was gone.
The nearest gate towered over them, as high as a city wall. They climbed a winding stair so they could see the great pulleys and counterweights that moved it up and down. The two brothers quickly grasped how the mechanism worked, for it was very like in design to the Citadel portcullis.
“Each gate weighs many tons,” the stonemason said, “But such was the marvelous craft of Numenor that it takes only two Men to raise them. Our skill is sadly fallen since those ancient days.”
Before starting the journey back to the Citadel, they sat on the broad platform and ate cold meat pies and apples. After they had finished eating, the brothers wandered around, poking at the heaps of broken tools and rock fragments. Hundreds of workers over hundreds of years had chiseled their names and the year into the cavern wall. Picking up a stone, Boromir scratched Boromir son of Denethor was here 2993.
Faramir leaned down to search for a jagged writing stone so he could add his name to the wall. But among the fragments of masonry, a perfectly round shape caught his eye. “Look!” he shouted as he held up a blackened coin.
Master Lindir hurried over to see his find. “You have unearthed ancient treasure. It would not be the first time that has happened in this cavern. Here, let me clean off the tarnish.” He rubbed the coin with the hem of his tunic then squinted at it by lantern light. “Yes, this is very old. A silver penny from the years of the Great Plague.” He handed the coin back to Faramir.
The silver had been stamped with a little crown surrounded by seven stars. Faramir turned it over to look at the other side. Tarondor—Lord of Gondor—1680 was inscribed in tiny letters. This penny had lain hidden for thirteen hundred years, only to be found by him. He hurried to show his brother, and they both set to work searching for more coins. They found a few nails but nothing else.
When Boromir and Faramir returned to the Citadel, their lord father questioned them at length about the cistern. He seemed pleased with their report on this part of the City’s defenses, though he had never heard of the blind fishes and could not say how it was that they found their food when they had no eyes. He studied the silver penny with great interest.
“You found this near the cistern?” he asked Faramir. “The reign of King Tarondor--that was an evil time. A plague from the east emptied the streets of Osgiliath, and untold thousands died. Yet still our people endured,” he said with the rare flicker of a smile. When he went to hand the penny back, Faramir shook his head. “I want you to have it, Father.”
Years later, after his father’s death, Faramir would find the silver penny tucked away in the Steward’s writing desk.