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Old 05-06-2006, 01:59 PM   #1
piosenniel
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Sting Abduction in Edoras RPG

Queen Lothiriel of Rohan strove to be a conscientious ruler. She had loved the wild, verdant beauty of her adopted homeland from the moment Eomer had first brought her here, so many years gone, and had worked hard to gain the respect of these people. They had once been rough and strange to her, but now they were dearer to her than the tall, proud, sea-bent warriors of her youth.

But family was family.

Lothiriel had been thrilled to see young Linduial had arrived. She remembered her cousin only vaguely, as a dark-eyed, serious child, and the poised slender young woman who had presented herself at Court had come as something of a shock. The girl's wit, beauty, and natural charm, however, had won over the older and more mature woman in an instant. Linduial had also brought enough letters, luxurious gifts, and cheerful gossip of half-forgotten names and places to make Lothiriel feel like a girl again herself, as her cousin filled her in on the mundane cycle of births, deaths, and 'who-married-whom's for an hour, closeted in her chambers.

"When did this arrive?" she snapped at the guard standing before her, crinkling the paper he'd given her in nervous fingers.

"Only a few minutes agone, Lady. A child brought it to the door guard, said a man had paid him to deliver it, for your eyes only."

"And was the child detained? Have we a description?"

The man held out his arms sheepishly. "No, he'd run off before anyone realized it was a serious matter."

"I see." Lothiriel glanced down again at the paper in her hand, impotent anger rising quickly in her breast. Linduial was intelligent, sure, but young and inexperienced, still adjusting to life here. And this anonymous man... Lothiriel growled in anger. Eomer had spent the last fifteen years rebuilding his country, painstakingly repairing the ravages of war and treason. A calmer part of the Queen hoped, for the sake of this unnamed offender, that he was not of the Rohirrim, for if he were, she and her husband would be responsible for his punishment.

But there were other failures to deal with first.

~<*>~

Lord Eodwine's Eorling Mead Hall was in chaos. Lothiriel found Eodwine in the front courtyard surrounded by people, all of whom were shouting and talking and milling about. There was a young man whose face was a study in guilt and dejection, another was limping badly, the Hall itself was in ruins. A pretty young woman hung on Eodwine's arm, but he seemed oblivious to her in the face of whatever challenge he faced now.

In the midst of this confusion, Lothiriel finally discovered an outlet for her restless anger. As she strode into the courtyard with her guards struggling to keep up, the company fell silent, surprised at her appearance, waiting expectantly for her to speak. She gratified their curiousity quickly, as she was in no mood to waste time on formalities.

"Lord Eodwine of the Mark," she said clearly, her voice chill. "Where is my cousin?"

Eodwine visibly started. Whatever he had expected to hear, it was not that. "My queen--" he hesitated, knowing that this was going to go badly. "--I do not know. She left for the Fair this morning, and was separated from her party. We were gathered here to go search for her. But how did you know?"

Lothiriel's temper flared. "Don't bother searching for her," she snapped thrusting the letter she held at the confused man. "You won't find her easily."

Eodwine took the paper and read it through quickly, then, with a pale glance at his queen, over again more slowly, before handing it to the young woman at his side, dropping her arm and standing alone, suddenly bone-tired. The woman glanced at her Lord, the queen, and briefly at the distraught young man near her, and as the silence continued expectantly, read the letter aloud with a nervous cough.

"Queen Lothiriel of Rohan,

"Your lovely cousin Lady Linduial of Dol Amroth has fallen expectantly into my care. The expense of her transportation and care are such that I shall require a thousand pounds of gold or I am afraid her safe return shall prove outside both my means and my interest. You shall have three weeks' time before I contact you again, and I will expect payment."

"It's not signed..." the young woman faltered lamely, eyes wide with worry.

"It didn't have to be," returned the Queen, opening her palm with a glimmer of gold to show the slim signet ring Linduial wore on all occasions. She closed her hand tightly around it once more, and returned her attention to Eodwine. "You are sworn to her protection, Eorl."

The man nodded in acknowledgement. "I am."

"One of my men shall be commanding a party to find and rescue her. I shall expect you to join them."

"I will."

"It will also fall to you to inform her father of what has happened. I would suggest you not to delay. My uncle can be a harsh man when his family is threatened."

Eodwine nodded again, and Lothiriel reached out in sudden kindness, gripping his arm firmly as she spoke quietly, for his ears only. "I supported you before my Lord, Eodwine of the Mark, and I do not regret my decision. I hope you do not come to hate me for it. I still see in you what I saw before. Don't be discouraged!"

She straightened and cast a look over the disorganized rubble that had once been the famed White Horse Inn. Where the hearth had been, a new one was rising, and despite her fear for Linduial she smiled to see it. "Your hall shall be great when you have built it, Eodwine," she said. "And your house also.

"My commander shall speak to you of your plans." At a gesture, the leader of her guard stood forth, and she gave him quick instructions to take only volunteers from the eored guarding Meduseld before gathering the remainder of her guard around her and returning to her home.

~<*>~

Linduial awoke to darkness and a feeling of claustrophobia. Her head hurt, but when she tried to lift her hand to rub at the pain, she realized with a sense of panic that she was bound hand and foot. Grunting and straining, she managed to roll onto her back, grateful that her hands seemed to be bound in front of her. She tried to lift her arms in an attempt to sit up, only to realize that the ceiling of her prison seemed to be only a few inches above her. Suddenly a violent jounce sent her body slamming hard against both the ceiling and floor of the tiny cubbyhole she occupied, and through a sudden wave of pain in her already aching head, she realized she must be in a wagon. A false bottom? she wondered.

Another, rougher bounce cracked her head against the ceiling and the world closed into nothing once again.

~<*>~

When she awoke the second time, again to darkness and a rough ride. Lin's emotions quickly ran the gamut from panic to terror to hot fury. She growled deep in her throat and cast around with her feet, searching for the side wall of the wagon. When she found it, she pounded hard on it, twisting her body for the best angle, glad she'd chosen to wear hard-soled boots to the fair. When the kicking got no response, she quickly lost the remaining shreds of her temper. She screamed and shouted, chanting filthy curses in time with her kicking, wracking her brains for the worst imprecations she'd ever managed to overhear her brothers use, uttering them with a perverse sense of rightness.

She was growing hoarse when she was finally awarded by a cessation of the constant noise of the wheels. She refused to fall silent, however, and shouted the words to a particularly snotty children's rhyme in a mocking singsong, all the while listening carefully to the muffled voices outside her prison. There was a curse and a loud thump, and then a sound of footsteps on the wood above her. A click, and bright sunlight filled her prison, leaving her blinking and squinting as rough hands hauled her out of the wagon, bumping her roughly against the wagon walls.

Blinded and bound, a furious Lin refused to be made helpless. She screamed and yelled and struggled, beating her captor with her bound fists and feet. Nothing seemed to do any good. Finally, with hot tears burning her eyes, she repeated a few of the epithets she'd heard her brothers use and bit firmly down on a hand held too close.

He shouted in protest. "Why, you little--" he threw her roughly on the ground and kicked her solidly in the side. Lin moaned in pain, trying to catch her breath and roll away at the same time, waiting in terror for another kick to come.

"Stop!" The message was more welcome than the voice. Lin looked up to see the man she'd approached at the Fair, who'd called all these men to capture her, looking down dispassionately at her heaving, huddled form from the back of a chestnut horse. Her attacker lowered his foot and backed off as his master dismounted from his horse and approached the scared and wary girl.

"Watch out, Lord," he said, taking the reins of the horse. "The little witch bites." He threw Lin a hate-filled glance, which she tried stubbornly to return through a haze of pain, her body throbbing with her heartbeat like one unending bruise.

"That's no reason to damage the goods," the leader chided absently, focused on Lin. He reached out suddenly and sliced through the ropes binding her legs. Lin was operating on her last few shreds of anger, but she reacted immediately, kicking out for his head. It didn't even faze him: he caught her handily and scooped her up gently, placing her on his horse and using what remained of the rope that had bound her legs to lash her hands firmly to the pommel. Lin did not resist, exhaustion and pain finally setting in. Her kidnapper swung up behind her, her slight, slumped frame no great burden to the horse. He leaned down to speak in her ear.

"A brave stand you've made, little lass, making all that noise. A shepherd boy or two might even have heard you. But I would suggest you not try anything further. You're on my lands now, and you won't have a chance of escape."

Lin heard the ring of truth in his mocking voice. "What do you want of me?" she asked dully, exhaustion allowing fear and despair to take an unholy hold on her tired mind.


-- JennyHallu
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