[Orofaniel]

“My lady,” the messenger began. “I’m afraid to tell you that her Majesty the Queen has passed away.”

Evrathol spotted that Arlomë was near falling to the floor again. He supported her in the back, trying to keep her body up straight. “What is this?” she said out loud, breathing heavily. “What you tell me can’t honestly be true!” she then continued. Evrathol tried to calm her down, but to no use.

“I’m afraid it is, my lady,” the messenger said gravely. It seemed that he also was greatly affected by this evening’s terrible events. “How?” Evrathol then let out. “Yes, what happened?” Arlomë then said. Evrathol saw that his mother was now shedding tears over the deceased Queen. “There is no good way of telling this; but she has been murdered,” the messenger explained.

This was the last drop. Arlomë did not know how to reply to these news. “Her Majesty’s funeral will be tomorrow, and pardon me if this seems heartless, I mean with your husband and all- but the King wants you to help him and the others prepare for the Queen’s funeral tomorrow,” the messenger said. Arlomë nodded. “But,” Evrathol started; he did not finished as he was interrupted by the messenger.

“Come, I’ll take you to the Palace. We must hurry!” The messenger then said, now allowing another word from either of them.

“Hold on a moment, will you,” Evrathol then said after a moment. “Mother, take your coat and follow me,” Evratho said, walking further down the hallway. “But, sir!” the messenger cried. Evrathol ignored him. “We will be at the Palace in fifteen minutes time,” Evrathol said to the messenger letting the door close behind him.

“Son, what is this? What are you doing? We must go immediately. It is our duty,” Arlomë said, holding her son back. It was typical of his mother; putting others in front of herself. “It is,” Evrathol said. “But first, let me tell you about the night’s most peculiar events.”

“Imagine, the Emissary here to night. In our gardens. We have talked about his odd appearances and most suspicious actions, have we not? You said it yourself earlier; something is not right. There is something most mischievous going on in Pashtia. He left rather hurriedly, did he not? He said he had a meeting with the King,” Evrathol explained. Arlomë followed his ever word closely, and nodded; “Yes, son, but I’m not quite following….”

“Don’t you feel it’s rather suspicious that the Emissary pays you, or us, a visit today? And when he first visits us, it’s because of plants and their characteristics…He then leaves without saying properly goodbye and then the next thing we know our most beloved Queen is dead…” Evrathol said. His voice was filled with suspicious and it seemed stern. “And, if that wasn’t enough…Her Majesty was murdered.”

Arlomë let out a short shriek. Her eyes filled with tears again. She was now aware of Evrathol’s suspicion, and for now it seemed as if everything had fallen to place in the pattern Evrathol had brought to her notice. It couldn’t possibly be, could it?

“We must warn the King!”