"Now, show me the mark."
§§§
Illeandir flinched and the edge of the knife nicked his throat, drawing a thin line of blood. His heart raced with sudden fear.
"What mark?" Illeandir managed to asked. The man grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled Illeandir's head back so far he could barely swallow or move.
"The Mark of the Betrayer."
"I do not know what you speak of." Illeandir forced out slowly. The pressure on his throat made speaking difficult. The man smiled cruelly.
"Then we'll just have to find it. Won't we, men?" he said. The men cheered. The man who held Illeandir flicked his hair away from his neck revealing the elf's pointed ears. "Well, well. What do we have here?" Though his voice held no hint that he was surprised his eyes did. "An elf. What a pleasant surprise." His men stopped cheering and muttered amongst themselves nervously. He tapped his dagger against Illeandir's ear thoughtfully. "What to do with you?" he mused. Illeandir tensed. What were they going to do?
"Why don't we start with you telling us why an elf would visit the White City."
Illeandir glared at him. "As I've told you before, I am visiting a friend." The man chuckled.
"And why would an elf be friends with a man?" the man asked. Suddenly there was shouting from the rear of the spearmen surrounding them. A small figure strode through them in a storm of anger. The soldiers parted before them and bowed low.
"Harding! Let the man go!"
"My lady!" Harding exclaimed dropping Illeandir who scrambled away gasping for air and rubbing his throat, his hand came away bloody. The woman, though much shorter than any of the men, claimed the attention of the entire courtyard as if she were ten feet tall and sported wings of fire. Her eyes were flames of blue fire matched by a simple blue and silver threaded dress. Curly dark blonde hair was held up with a band of white pearls and flowers, a silver circlet rested on her brow. Her lips formed a thin line of displeasure. She crossed her arms across her chest and waited, glaring at Harding.
"Explain yourself!" she demanded. Harding bowed low.
"Princess, you are most beautiful this..."
"Enough! Skip the pleasantries." she shouted. Harding blanched. He fumbled for his next words.
"He snuck in through gates without permission from the king! Only a spy would do that."
"Really?"
"Yes! I also have reason to suspect this elf is a spy for the enemy."
"Elf?" the princess looked at Illeandir in a new light. "Did you say he is an elf?" Excitement crept into her voice.
"Yes. I did. An elf and a spy so I took it upon myself to punish him."
"Fool! You blithering fool of a man! You had no authority to act as you did!" the princess shouted, very nearly backhanding Harding but at the last moment restrained herself. "You are dismissed from your duties."
"But my lady..."
"No! I will not hear it. You have proven yourself incapable and are therefore punishable."
"Only the king has permission to dismiss the guard." Harding countered.
"My father had given me permission to dismiss you on this occasion for both your insubordination and for sending word first to the council of an intruder. It states, by law, that all who enter Minas Tirith must be made known first to the king before allowed to go further. Your room is being emptied as I speak. Go collect your things and leave your badge with me."
On the verge of tears Harding ripped his badge from his uniform and placed it in the princesses open hand and stormed off. The princess turned to the men around her.
"You will know who your captain is by morning tomorrow. Back to your stations." Armor clanking, the men hurried to obey her order. The princess turned to Illeandir, the glare on her face did not soften. "You have committed a capital offense against the kingdom of Gondor, one that cannot be forgiven lightly." she said. Illeandir sighed and rose to his feet, towering above the princess. Her blue eyes widen and she took a step back.
"You looked much smaller on the ground." she said, awe slipped into her voice. Illeandir smiled uneasily.
"I did not know that Gondor had fallen on such hard times. Had I known your trouble I would have never come."
"Who are you?"
"I am who I am and no one else." Illeandir said. "I wish to see your father. He is an old friend of mine."
"My father has many old friends, but none appear as you do. What is your name." the princess asked.
"I am Illeandir Naharia Alfýkin. A name few know me by."
"It's you!" she gasped in surprise. "My father spoke often of you. He did not know if you were still alive."
Illeandir laughed. "It takes more than an attack to kill me." His mood darkened as he remembered that fateful day.
"I will escort you to my father personally." The princess lost all of her hardness and turned from a woman to a girl. She walked quickly to the gate leading into the first tier of the citadel. "My name is Nara by the way." she threw over her shoulder. Illeandir hastily grabbed his weapons and in a matter of seconds had hidden his knives, sheathed his sword, and slung his bow over his back and followed Nara through the first gate and into the city.
As she led him through the city she explained what everything was with great enthusiasm. The city had changed since Illeandir had last visited though in many ways it was still the same. People greeted Nara by name and she did likewise, often times inquiring of some detail of their lives that would be insignificant to another but held great importance in that person's life. Illeandir admired the trees and other growth that thrived amid the stone houses and paved roads. Many of the trees had grown to be thrice the size they were when Minas Tirith had been repaired by both the dwarves and elves and men that lived within its walls.
They arrived shortly at the sixth tier which housed the House of Healing and swiftly passed through onto the seventh tier and the hall of the king. Nara nodded to the guards that stood guard around the White Tree. They didn't move except to let their eyes follow the pair to the door leading into the Great Hall. Two more guards stood before the doors and, at a word from the princess, opened the massive doors.
Lining the walls to the throne were the statues of every Gondorian king. They stood regal and proud, staring across the marbled floor with cold, dead eyes. Illeander shivered and looked away from the long dead kings to the living king; Eldarion, son of Aragorn, King of Gondor.
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And Illeandir is now out of trouble. Or is he? Rest assured our elf will soon find himself over his head in trouble. Because why not?
What do you think of Nara? Did I come on to strong with her or was that okay? Here's her picture.
I'm trying to get as far as I can in this story before marching band starts which is in Thursday because after that starts I won't have a lot of time on my hands. And then school starts after that and I'll have even less time! Yay. Not.
As ever,
Illeandir Naharia Alfýkin