The Practise of Diffidence
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Category:
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
4,298
Reviews:
10
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Part Two
DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately, I do not own any of the characters from these stories and I probably never will, much to my dismay!
The Practise of Diffidence.
Part Two.
By, Demet
* * * * *
(some days later)
The soldiers of Gondor looked up from their posts at the outer walls of the White City of Gondor in surprise and bewilderment as a hooded rider approached the ominous gates at great speed. Though, it was not unusual for the city to receive lone riders into the city, for they did great trade with the many merchants who visited the famed land of Gondor, they had never beheld a rider to approach the city with such haste since the dark days of Sauron’s rise.
The rider and his horse must be of elvish breed, thought the Captain in charge, a stout and brave soldier by the name of Gormal. For the speed of the white stallion was unlike any other horse theng Cng Captain had ever seen.
Since it was well known that the elvish folk were great friends of their King and therefore close allies to Gondor, Gormal ordered the soldiers at the gate to open it quickly so they might greet their strange visitor. The soldiers complied quickly with all the might and efficiency that the forces of Gondor were famed for.
The hooded rider reigned his impressive mount in to a gentle trot as he entered the gates and immediately turned to Gormal, who was standing expectantly in front of him.
‘Take me to your King, Captain.’ he said in a clear ringing voice that could only truly belong to one of the fair folk. ‘I bear ill tidings from Ithilien.’
Gormal immediately scrambled on to his own mount to bear the elven Lord some assistance, for he had to be an elven Lord with such straight posture and poise and a voice that could rally troops to immediate attention.
Leading the messenger from Ithilien, he thought upon the message that the elf had relayed just moments ago. Bad tidings from Ithilien? He hoped that nothing was amiss with Faramir for the people of Gondor loved him dearly.
* * * * *
If Airanar had imagined he would be anywhere this day, the throne room of the King of Gondor was the last place that would have come to mind. The lengths he had gone to for his Prince’s well-being, Airanar thought fondly. He loved Legolas, son of Thranduil as if he was his own son as he had often looked after the young Prince when he had got himself into scraps as an elfling.
No, he set his chin determinedly, he would make sure that the Prince would be well again, for his own good and for the good of the elven populace of Ithilien.
* * * * *
Aragorn was in his chambers reclining in a chair, reading over a sheaf of papers concerning the many trading issues that were arising by the day in Gondor, a subject which fascinated him to no end. Just when the report had hit an unusually interesting point, he heard a knock at the door, rousing him from the stupor he had succumbed to.
It was fairly unusual for the king of Gondor to be interrupted while he was in the middle of perusing his Chief Advisor’s reports on the current state of affairs in Gondor. His guards knew that these issues were of the utmost importance to their King and thus tried their best to spare him interruption. Care of his people and awareness of their living conditions were Aragorn’s top priorities on becoming King and he was determined to see them improved.
Crossing the room with quick and firm strides, he opened the door. It was one of his guards who had been knocking so insistently.
Aragorn nodded impatiently, ‘Yes, what is it?’ Though he mightn’t like reading these reports, the sooner he got back to them the sooner he would finish them.
‘Sire, you have a messenger from Ithilien in thronerone Room. He awaits your counsel.’
Aragorn simply stared at the young guard in disbelief.
Surely, he had heard him wrong? A messenger from Ithilien? Mayhap, Legolas was not angry with him after all, he thought elatedly, his spirits rising. Why else would he send a messenger to Gondor but to make his peace with the King. Mayhap, he would have his old friend back with him in no time at all and they could forget that dreadful mistake they had made.
Yes, Aragorn thought decisively. Soon everything would be back to normal. He would not let his momentary madness with Legolas affect his marriage with Arwen. She deserved better than that….
They all did.
* * * * *
Legolas groaned as he turned over onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. He hated feeling like this, so sickly, so human… It was more than he could bear. His body and face were feverish from the frequent sicknesses he was experiencing while his hair was plastered and matted to his face because of the water the healer kept applying to his forehead to cool him down.
And unusually enough, it was only in the mornings that he experience such illness. Why, he could not fathom but he heard that human illnesses were not as such at all. But rather consistent and lasting for days if not weeks. Legolas shuddered at the thought.
He wished Airanar would hurry back soon so he could discover what was wrong with him and cure it. Because whatever it was, Legolas wasn’t sure that he could bear it for weeks to come.
He could hardly keep his morning meals down anymore and he could sense that the Elven people were becoming distressed at their Lord’s absence and were given to bouts of worrying and concern that Legolas thought were needless. He would be fine.
Airanar would make sure of it.
* * * * *
‘What do you mean, he has been sick?’ Aragorn voiced in disbelief, eying the Chief Healer of the houses of Ithilien, suspiciously.
‘He has been suffering from frequent aches my Lord and finds it hard to keep his meals down at times,’ Airanar replied anxiously. ’I was wondering if we could borrow one of the healers from your Healing Houses for we could use their expertise, we know of naught else we can do to ease his distress.’ Seeing the speculative look on Aragorn’s face he added,’ The Wood-Elves are a secular people my Lord, we know naught of human illnesses.’
Aragorn nodded in understanding. This was true, he conceded. The Elves of Imladris had been much more aware of how to treat the sicknesses of the race of men. And this was certainly the last piece of news
he had been expecting to hear from Ithilien. What had Legolas gotten himself in to now?
‘Very well,’ he conceded. ‘You have our aid Airanar. In fact, you have one better for I shall join you on your homeward journey to check up on Prince Legolas myself.’
So relieved was Airanar with the King’s concession that he completely forgot the last thing Legolas had requested of him when he had learned that the Healer was going to look for aid.
‘Whatever you do, don’t let Aragorn come to Ithilien.’
The Practise of Diffidence.
Part Two.
By, Demet
* * * * *
(some days later)
The soldiers of Gondor looked up from their posts at the outer walls of the White City of Gondor in surprise and bewilderment as a hooded rider approached the ominous gates at great speed. Though, it was not unusual for the city to receive lone riders into the city, for they did great trade with the many merchants who visited the famed land of Gondor, they had never beheld a rider to approach the city with such haste since the dark days of Sauron’s rise.
The rider and his horse must be of elvish breed, thought the Captain in charge, a stout and brave soldier by the name of Gormal. For the speed of the white stallion was unlike any other horse theng Cng Captain had ever seen.
Since it was well known that the elvish folk were great friends of their King and therefore close allies to Gondor, Gormal ordered the soldiers at the gate to open it quickly so they might greet their strange visitor. The soldiers complied quickly with all the might and efficiency that the forces of Gondor were famed for.
The hooded rider reigned his impressive mount in to a gentle trot as he entered the gates and immediately turned to Gormal, who was standing expectantly in front of him.
‘Take me to your King, Captain.’ he said in a clear ringing voice that could only truly belong to one of the fair folk. ‘I bear ill tidings from Ithilien.’
Gormal immediately scrambled on to his own mount to bear the elven Lord some assistance, for he had to be an elven Lord with such straight posture and poise and a voice that could rally troops to immediate attention.
Leading the messenger from Ithilien, he thought upon the message that the elf had relayed just moments ago. Bad tidings from Ithilien? He hoped that nothing was amiss with Faramir for the people of Gondor loved him dearly.
* * * * *
If Airanar had imagined he would be anywhere this day, the throne room of the King of Gondor was the last place that would have come to mind. The lengths he had gone to for his Prince’s well-being, Airanar thought fondly. He loved Legolas, son of Thranduil as if he was his own son as he had often looked after the young Prince when he had got himself into scraps as an elfling.
No, he set his chin determinedly, he would make sure that the Prince would be well again, for his own good and for the good of the elven populace of Ithilien.
* * * * *
Aragorn was in his chambers reclining in a chair, reading over a sheaf of papers concerning the many trading issues that were arising by the day in Gondor, a subject which fascinated him to no end. Just when the report had hit an unusually interesting point, he heard a knock at the door, rousing him from the stupor he had succumbed to.
It was fairly unusual for the king of Gondor to be interrupted while he was in the middle of perusing his Chief Advisor’s reports on the current state of affairs in Gondor. His guards knew that these issues were of the utmost importance to their King and thus tried their best to spare him interruption. Care of his people and awareness of their living conditions were Aragorn’s top priorities on becoming King and he was determined to see them improved.
Crossing the room with quick and firm strides, he opened the door. It was one of his guards who had been knocking so insistently.
Aragorn nodded impatiently, ‘Yes, what is it?’ Though he mightn’t like reading these reports, the sooner he got back to them the sooner he would finish them.
‘Sire, you have a messenger from Ithilien in thronerone Room. He awaits your counsel.’
Aragorn simply stared at the young guard in disbelief.
Surely, he had heard him wrong? A messenger from Ithilien? Mayhap, Legolas was not angry with him after all, he thought elatedly, his spirits rising. Why else would he send a messenger to Gondor but to make his peace with the King. Mayhap, he would have his old friend back with him in no time at all and they could forget that dreadful mistake they had made.
Yes, Aragorn thought decisively. Soon everything would be back to normal. He would not let his momentary madness with Legolas affect his marriage with Arwen. She deserved better than that….
They all did.
* * * * *
Legolas groaned as he turned over onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. He hated feeling like this, so sickly, so human… It was more than he could bear. His body and face were feverish from the frequent sicknesses he was experiencing while his hair was plastered and matted to his face because of the water the healer kept applying to his forehead to cool him down.
And unusually enough, it was only in the mornings that he experience such illness. Why, he could not fathom but he heard that human illnesses were not as such at all. But rather consistent and lasting for days if not weeks. Legolas shuddered at the thought.
He wished Airanar would hurry back soon so he could discover what was wrong with him and cure it. Because whatever it was, Legolas wasn’t sure that he could bear it for weeks to come.
He could hardly keep his morning meals down anymore and he could sense that the Elven people were becoming distressed at their Lord’s absence and were given to bouts of worrying and concern that Legolas thought were needless. He would be fine.
Airanar would make sure of it.
* * * * *
‘What do you mean, he has been sick?’ Aragorn voiced in disbelief, eying the Chief Healer of the houses of Ithilien, suspiciously.
‘He has been suffering from frequent aches my Lord and finds it hard to keep his meals down at times,’ Airanar replied anxiously. ’I was wondering if we could borrow one of the healers from your Healing Houses for we could use their expertise, we know of naught else we can do to ease his distress.’ Seeing the speculative look on Aragorn’s face he added,’ The Wood-Elves are a secular people my Lord, we know naught of human illnesses.’
Aragorn nodded in understanding. This was true, he conceded. The Elves of Imladris had been much more aware of how to treat the sicknesses of the race of men. And this was certainly the last piece of news
he had been expecting to hear from Ithilien. What had Legolas gotten himself in to now?
‘Very well,’ he conceded. ‘You have our aid Airanar. In fact, you have one better for I shall join you on your homeward journey to check up on Prince Legolas myself.’
So relieved was Airanar with the King’s concession that he completely forgot the last thing Legolas had requested of him when he had learned that the Healer was going to look for aid.
‘Whatever you do, don’t let Aragorn come to Ithilien.’
* * * * *
TBC….