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Old 05-19-2006, 12:49 PM   #18
the guy who be short
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Angawen sat penseively in her quarters. She still could not believe she had let such emotion overcome her. For years she had been mineral-like in her lack of emotion, her ability to keep her head in all situations. Just one international crossing and her ability to control herself seemed to have vanished.

It was the people in Mordor, that was the problem. She had not experienced such people before; quite rightly, for they were indeed abominations. Skittles... She forced herself not to linger on that woman. But even Lady Alli... yes, she admired Lady Alli. Here was a fierce woman of an iron will, much akin to herself. She could not help feel respect as well as the natural dislike that should arise from such an encounter. And yet, even in her, one found the mannerisms of Mordor seeping through. Tupsè, indeed. Tup-seh... She turned her mind from mispronunciation, for she knew what could happen if she indulged herself in faux-indignation.

One thing, in any case, was clear. Mordor was a place unlike any other, a place that had baited her when no land in Gondor could. But she had merely been caught off her guard. She knew now what she faced, and resolved to toughen her defence, to be always on guard, and to show no more anger, nor any hint of feeling whatsoever, in this land. She had not spent years becoming a woman of importance to become a lowly emotive creature upon stepping into Mordor.

****
A muffled "come in."

Angawen turned to her bodyguards. "You are to remain at this door. Nobody, Mordorian or Gondorian, is to enter this room until I come out." She did not bother waiting for a response, and opening the oak door, marched into Hyarmenwë's quarters.

He was sitting at his table, bare save a candle and a manuscript opened before him. He looked at her, and neither his mouth nor his eyes softened as he greeted her. "Hail, Lady Angawen of Gondor. A pleasant surprise to see you here."

"It is most pleasurable," she replied in Quenya, "to meet with you here, Lord Hyarmenwë. May I take a seat?" She indicated the only other chair in the room, hewn of rough wood, opposite his.

"Of course, Lady," he replied, still speaking in Westron. "May I inquire wherefore you use the High tongue? There is no need of such ceremony here."

Angawen seated herself opposite him and smiled to herself. To hear Hyarmenwë seem to belittle ceremony was worth at least fifty Skittles running amok. She continued in Quenya, "I feel the urge to speak with you, Lord. I have worries I feel only you may deal with," she noticed him sit up a little at this, though she knew he didn't trust a word of it, "and felt that it would be beneficial to make full use of our mutual knowledge of the High Tongue to minimise the thread of being overheard and understood by undesirable parties."

He succumbed and turned the conversation into a purely Quenyan phenomenon. "You have such little faith in the citizens of Mordor? We are under diplomatic protection and I'm sure you have two sturdy men guarding the door. What chance is there of being spied upon?"

"You have reason concerning my guards," she replied, "but I am not sure we are any longer protected by diplomatic immunity. I remind you that our mission had been - cancelled. In any case, these people are most unlike us, and I would not trust to their manners nor to their goodwill. Lady Alli is a cunning woman. I do not see her passing up a chance to listen in on all we say for her own motives."

Hyarmenwë nodded curtly. "That may be; but have we not found that these Mordorians speak Quenya as well as we?"

"No," she replied abruptly. "I do not believe all of them do. That Dwarf, he did not understand our words. Nor did the girl. The madwoman I can be no judge of."

He nodded once more. "Then it is fair that we should speak in Quenya. What counsel may I give?"

Angawen did not reply straight away. She gathered her thoughts before putting him the question "Why, Hyarmenwë, do you believe you were sent on this assignment?"

"I am a great statesman and most loyal to the Kingdom," he answered without a second thought.

"Yes. And I?"

"You have a cunning and cold mind. The mind of a ruthless man, not a soft woman."

She ignored the swipe. "And Bearugard and Malfoidacil?"

"I do not claim to understand the mind of our - Lord - Mardil."

"Hyarmenwë, I come to you because I know you can be trusted to hold yourself to the will of Gondor. I, too, hold myself accountable to Gondor, through the Lord Mardil. I know you, Lord, and you know me. But I do not know Malfoidacil, and I fear what will holds him to it."

"You worry about his loyalty? Mardil would not have selected Malfoidacil if he were not fully assured of his loyalty."

"And yet, do you not find it strange that all we three should be expulsed so rudely from a gathering of states, whereas he should be admitted to the council of Lady Alli?"

Hyarmenwë remained quiet.

"He knows Lady Alli. They are old friends from this land - this land whence he came. I shall be blunt, Hyarmenwë. I do not trust him."

Hyarmenwë replied slowly. "I cannot claim to share your distrust, Lady, for I have faith in Mardil. But I agree that he is something of an anomaly. I am not at ease around him."

"If you were to leave your life in his hands, would you trust him?"

"Nay, Lady, nor you," he replied with something of a smile on his old face. "But," he continued, "you have given me cause to think. Perhaps one can be loyal to Mardil and yet to Mordor at once. I have more confidence in Bearugard."

"And I less. Good blood does not a good statesman make. I think he is not yet mature enough for these negotiations."

"He has more years than you."

"He has all he wants, that much is true. He will not make Lady Alli agree to terms by demanding them bluntly of her. I do not see he understands the ways of negotiation. He is young, still, at heart. In that his father committed him an unkindness."

Again, her words were met with a silence from the Lord, who was staring intently but blankly at the manuscript in front of him. After thirty seconds, he looked up. "You come here to complain of our companions. Malfoidacil is, you say, a traitor - do not interrupt me," he said, for she had tried to object. "In so many words, this is what you said. And Bearugard is a fool. What then am I? A conservative imbecile, no doubt? What is your point?"

Angawen smiled at him entirely unconvincingly. "Lord, our thoughts have not always been at accord. You have not always approved of me, nor I of you. However, as ambassadors, we must push these insignificant personal details aside. I have utmost respect for your powers of speech, persuasion, and duty. Some of these qualities I find worryingly lacking in our comrades."

He waited for her to go on.

"Lord, we must not allow personal factors to come between us. I shall be blunt. I feel Malfoidacil and Bearugard are incompetent for this task. I see that you share my thoughts on Malfoidacil, at least, though you are unwilling to admit it. Therefore, I say to you, that we two should work as closely together as we may. We must not keep secrets nor even thoughts from one another. To succeed in this harsh land, we must work together, as if we were one. We must," she finished passionately, "work together for the good of Gondor!"

"If I understand you, you would have me share my thoughts with you - this is fair, for you are correct, it is necessary in these circumstances - and to cut off my thoughts from Malfoidacil and Bearugard. Lady, I too shall be blunt. I do not trust Malfoidacil, though my distrust does not come close to yours. However, I smell no ill-will in Bearugard. Therefore, I accept your proposition to forget our petty dislikes for a greater cause and to coalesce, on condition that Beaurgard be admitted to our party."

The conversation had not gone as Angawen had anticipated. But still - it was of little import if that immature child, as she thought him, should be admitted to the group, as long as he kept his mouth shut. The important thing was that this task required a degree of unity she had not hitherto anticipated, and that it was absolutely necessary to counter the threat of treachery in Malfoidacil.

"Lord, I accept."

Last edited by the guy who be short; 05-22-2006 at 10:52 AM.
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