TWO | POISON AND WINE
WHEN I WAKE AT last, my head is supported by silken pillows and my body is no longer aching. I sit up, my head spinning as if it has not needed to work for a while. I am in a silver bed, but the rest of the room is painted in soft blue, not at all cold. The room is decorated in silver ornaments and I don't hesitate to push a silver-woven bookmark up my sleeve. I could sell this for a lot of money somewhere.
My feet are unsteady, and it takes me a few moments to catch my balance. My stomach is aching, starving, but for once there is no ache in my throat, no constant reminder of my thirst.
I tip-toe toward the door gently, opening it as slowly and cautiously as I can, grabbing a candle-stick on the way. I don't know where I am, it is better to be prepared. The door creaks, and I freeze. Nobody comes to check, so I relax again.
The corridor is just as elaborate as the bedroom, if not more so. I am beginning to wonder if I was in the least ostentatious room of the house. It is designed to impress, each wall covered in ornaments and decorative jewels, so many that it even begins to look strange to me. I have never seen so much wealth in my life - I am tempted to try pocketing some of it, but I abstain. I have a feeling that the hosts might notice should I start pulling gems off their walls.
I check the first door, hoping for the exit, and instead I find the kitchen, full to the brim with fine produce and a plate of bread and cheese set on the table, freshly baked and smelling divine.
I should move on, I know. But I'm just so hungry that I can't resist darting across the kitchen to snatch the bread, before hurrying away. Hopefully nobody will notice that.
Tearing off a piece, I shove it into my mouth - it is delicious, the best bread I have ever tasted. I did not know that bread could even taste this good.
"It is polite," a cold voice says, and I freeze in horror, "to ask one's hosts before eating their food."
I turn, to see two men in blue staring at me. One is tall and slim, the other short and stout; one is glaring at me coldly, the other smiling warmly. I try to speak, but my mouth is full of bread and all I can manage is an incomprehensible grunt.
"Leave her alone," the shorter says, watching my struggle with great amusement. "She's clearly starving, the poor thing."
I swallow, feeling hostility towards these two strange men. I am not a poor thing. "Where have you taken me? What have you done to me?"
They exchange glances, looking baffled. The shorter gestures vaguely; I can't understand him. "What do you mean? We found you like this."
I wonder if I am dreaming, for it would make much more sense. Yes, that must be it, I am dreaming, imprisoned in my mind. Or perhaps I am dead, and that is why the bread tastes so good. Real bread does not taste like this at all. "Am I dead?"
The taller scoffs, nudging the shorter with his foot. Is he a god? Am I really dead? Is my mother here? "Brilliant," he sighs, stepping forward to grab a plate of his own, and beginning to fill his plate, "she's an idiot."
"Excuse me?"
"Why don't you sit down, dear?" The shorter gestures to the table, which is set with three chairs, and a lot more food. I salivate, my mouth watering at the sight. "We can eat while we talk."
I suddenly become even more conscious of the silver I have hidden in my sleeve. I ought to get out of here, who knows who they are. I'm still not sure that I'm alive. "No, thank you, I ought to be going now-"
"Sit." The taller commands, his voice leaving no room for argument as he glares at me.
I sit.
"I am Alatar," the shorter smiles, and I am taken aback by his eyes, which are a brilliant blue, almost glowing. They remind me of my own, a little. "This is Pallando." He gestures toward his friend.
I nod, shoving another piece of bread and cheese into my mouth so I don't have to continue the conversation. They are rather intimidating, with their strange eyes and unreasonably good food. They look human, barely, but I get the feeling that they are not. But they do not have pointed ears like and elf, and are far taller than a dwarf, so they must be men.
"What do they call you?" Alatar prompts, sitting down beside Pallando. Pallando is still eating, but Alatar has yet to even look at the food.
I swallow rather ungracefully, taking a reprieve from eating to answer him. My stomach hurts slightly now; I may have eatenbri a little too fast. "Tasha."
Pallando leans forward, glaring at me again. "What do they really call you?"
I get the feeling that they can see through any lies I might think of telling, so I suck it up and answer honestly, though I do not want to. "Raelyn." I look between the two, and I wonder if they have also lied to me. "Who are you really?"
Alatar chuckles, and the ice in the room seems to melt a little, as the two men share a secretive grin. "We're the two blue wizards, Alatar and Pallando. Two of the Five Istari. Embodiment's of the Maiar. We are the guardians of the world, the protectors of the light."
I blink, confused. "Who?"
"Were you not listening?" Pallando demands, looking angry. "Have you never heard of us?" I shake my head, wondering if they will launch into an incredibly boring explanation that I will not listen to at all.
"We're wizards," Alatar cuts in, summarising briefly. "Why were you unconscious on the side of the road?"
"I was walking," I explain, as Pallando scoffs, rolling his eyes.
"We know that," he groans, continuing to glare. I wonder if that is a glare, or if his face is just permanently stuck in that position. I don't think it has changed at all since he first saw me. "Where were you walking to?"
I shrug. I don't know how to answer that, because I don't know where I was going. My village has never had a name, the nearest village has none either, and I don't even know which direction I was walking in. We were nameless, useless and none knew of us, so now that they are gone nobody will even care. We have been forgotten.
"Fine." He throws his hands in the air, glaring at his brother, who shrugs. "Where were you walking from?"
"My village." I tell him, knowing that I'm not being very helpful, but not particularly caring. I just want to get out of here.
"Does this village have a name?"
"No." I say, and now Alatar looks mildly amused as he watches me.
Pallando seems to give up, as he leans back in his chair and continues to shovel food into his mouth. I follow suit. Alatar decides to continue the questioning, this time from a different point of view. "Why were you leaving your village?"
"I didn't want to live there anymore," I tell him, and it is true. I do not want to live among the ashes and dead bodies and orcs. Is my mother dead? I feel a surge of guilt, as I remember everything that happened and I realise that I have become distracted by the food. What do I do now? Should I go back? I don't think that that would be a good idea, but part of me just needs to check.
"Liar." Pallando states calmly, still frowning. "You are a liar, and a thief." He holds his hand out, and I blush, before pulling the bookmark from my sleeve and handing it to him. I had forgotten about it; he must have seen the flash of silver when I raised my hand.
"You never said that I couldn't take it!" I protest weakly, as he glares at me even stronger than before, and I feel the urge to defend myself. It is not a very strong defence.
"Clearly, you never learnt basic etiquette," he says drily, shaking his head. "Why were you leaving?"
"There was an orc attack," I blurt out, as I realise that they will keep me here until they learn the truth, and they can see through all my lies. I will have to get better at lying, then. "The whole village was on fire, last I saw it."
"Well, I can see why you wouldn't want to live there any longer," Alatar laughs at his own joke, one which is not funny at all. Pallando agrees with me, as he turns his deadly glare onto Alatar, who promptly stops chuckling. "Where are you going next?"
I have no idea, as I stare at him dumbly for a moment. "I don't know." I look around at the argent walls, the aquamarine decor. "Where am I?"
"That's a very good question," Alatar leans forward, thoughtfully, watching me alertly, his sharp eyes wide. "Where do you want to be?"
Anywhere with some gold, I think, but I don't say so. They seem like the sort of morally upright people who would throw me in a prison for something like that. Though, they are very rich; nobody ever became wealthy by being a good person. "...I..don't know."
He smiles kindly, his eyes warm and comforting, and I suddenly feel guilty for lying. "You haven't been asked that question before, I presume?"
Pallando scoffs, shaking his head slightly. "She knows exactly where she wants to go," he says. "She just doesn't want to tell us because she's afraid we'll lock her away for it."
It's like he can read my mind - can he? He did say that he was a wizard. I gulp, my eyes flicking between the two as I wonder what they're going to do next. "Well-"
"It doesn't matter," Pallando sighs again, looking worn. I almost feel guilty, it's as if my arrival here as aged him by a hundred years. "I imagine that I'd prefer not to know."
Alatar seems to agree, though he still hasn't stopped smiling at me. It's a little unnerving, considering I have done nothing to warrant such kindness. "Yes, yes, I agree. You can go, I think. Just...whatever you plan to do, don't get caught."
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13 YEARS LATER
I HAD BEEN CAUGHT. In all honesty, to anyone who knew me, it can't have been that much of a surprise. I was not the most subtle thief, despite how hard I tried to be. Part of me was glad for that, for it felt as though there were some part of me that was still good, and not evil like the rest of me was. Not cursed, as I had always been.
But now, I was sitting in the dark, damp, and worryingly unhygienic dungeons of a small town on the Blue Mountains, sulking, and hating that tiny goodness in myself. Out of all the hundreds of dwarven settlements, which would likely have had much more pleasant dungeons, had I managed to find probably the only settlement of men? Just my luck.
"I hate this place," I tell my companion in the cell. He doesn't answer - I think he might be dead. He hasn't moved since I was first thrown in here three hours ago. Either dead or a heavy sleeper. "If I die in this awful dungeon, I'll climb out of the Halls of Mandos* myself to haunt this damned place." It doesn't sound like a particularly strong threat, I'll admit, so I glare at the slumped body at the other side of my cell as if it has personally wronged me. "How'd you get in here?" I ask it. It doesn't reply.
I pick up a small stone from the ground where I am sitting - at least, I think it is a stone - and throw it at the wall experimentally. It hits the wall, but sticks there, stuck to the stone by some unknown substance.
I remind myself not to touch the walls.
"I got betrayed," I say glumly to the body, who has not reacted even after I threw a stone toward it's head. I think I have really lost my mind now, for I am now narrating my monologue to a dead body. If this is what three hours of captivity does to me, what will happen if I don't get bailed out and have to spend my life in here? Problem is, I don't think I have anybody who cares enough to help me. "Don't ever do favours for people, uh - I think you need a name -" I say absently. " - no, first I should check if you're alive - " I push myself onto my knees and begin to crawl toward the body, careful not to touch what seems to be bones scattered across the floor of this dungeon. I am definitely going to die in here.
"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," a calm voice warns from the shadows as I twist around, my fingers finding a stray bone to brandish it in front of me like a sword. "Even from here, I can smell the stench of that thing."
"Who are you?" I demand, holding the bone up in the direction of the voice. I am trapped in here, if I should get attacked, and the guards are far down the other side of the hall, drunk. They don't care about the people in here, and if I die they might even celebrate having less work.
"I am Gandalf," Gandalf says, as he steps into the dim light that is managing to creep in from the windows at the other side of the hall. He seems ancient, and grey, but carries himself as if he is the most powerful person in the room, despite the fact that he looks like he could snap in half if I so much as startled him. "I just paid your bail."
I frown, wondering if I have ever met him. I don't think that I have, which is more concerning. "Why would you do that?"
"I have a job for you," he says, and I shake my head instantly. He continues as if he didn't see me. "You are a thief, are you not?"
"I don't work for people," I tell him, and it's true - I don't. The one time I decided to try it, and I ended up here, stuck in a cell with no money. "I won't work for you."
He chuckles slightly, and for a moment he reminds me of Alatar, a man I met thirteen years ago. He too held himself with a strange confidence like Gandalf, but he was not dressed like a beggar, as Gandalf is. "You won't be working for me, but for my -"
"Employer?" I guess, wondering how wealthy his employer could be, with Gandalf still dressed like that. Then I feel a little guilty. I am being unreasonably judgmental.
"No!" He coughs vehemently, and I am almost amused at the disgust he seems to hold at such a notion. "No, I am a wizard. I cannot be employed."
Though that explains why he reminds me of Alatar, he just doesn't seem like a very wizard-like person. His clothes are tattered and filthy, he is hunched over slightly and he seems unable to walk without his walking stick. "You don't dress like a wizard."
He does not answer to that, ignoring me. "I have an...acquaintance, and he wishes to hire a thief to steal for him."
"Thank you for paying my bail," I tell him, a little more politely now. If he is a wizard, then I do not want to offend him, and be turned into a frog. "But I will not work for you. I am not a thief for hire."
"No," he says quietly, sighing heavily as if I have greatly disappointed him. "You are just a petty thief." He looks back for a moment, meeting my eyes. "My acquaintance is a king. Very wealthy."
"I am not falling for that." I tell him, dropping the bone and stepping out of the cell once he has unlocked it, as the door swings open - freedom, at last. "I am not so gullible."
"Of course not." He nods politely, turning away to walk towards the door. He moves very gracefully, and I begin to wonder if the frail old man disguise is just that - a disguise.
"Gandalf," I say, and he turns to look back at me, a hint of a smile tugging on his lips as he nods. "So, how much would this king be willing to pay?"
*The Halls of Mandos - a place where men and elves would wait to be judged by Mandos after death
a/n : second chapter ! from here, it goes into auj, but i do like this chapter very much ! raelyn's relationship with gandalf is one of my favourite things and i hope y'all like it. anyway, thank you for reading.
lyra