View Single Post
Old 02-04-2004, 01:17 PM   #94
Child of the 7th Age
Spirit of the Lonely Star
 
Child of the 7th Age's Avatar
 
Join Date: Mar 2002
Posts: 5,135
Child of the 7th Age is a guest of Tom Bombadil.
Sting

Ráma

By the time Ráma made her way through the streets of Umbar and reached the outskirts of the palace, the stars in the night sky were beginning to fade. Already, the servants in the better houses were up and about their business: lighting fires in kitchen grates, preparing and baking the flat bread that formed the staple of the southern diet, and starting their rounds of cleaning and scrubbing, chores that had to be endlessly repeated in a city surrounded by piles of sand. Slaves toting mops and scrub brushes were lined up at the public well just outside the palace, filling pails with water and wearily toting them back inside. A hoard of servants crowded into the public square, not only those of Falasmir's household but others from nearby villas situated in the wealthy sections of the city.

In the grey shadows of early dawn, Ráma had little difficulty blending in with the others. Several of the waiting servants pushed wheelbarrows or tugged at carts and wagons that looked similar to the one Ráma had brought. A guard stood nearby to make sure the slaves did not escape, but he was absorbed in memories of his carousing from the night before and paid little attention to the movement of the servants as long as they stayed within the square.

After filling her waterpail and heaving it onto the wagon, Ráma resumed her place in line and trudged back with the others. The slaves entered the building through a broad gate, walking down a shallow incline that led to the lowest floor of the compound. Here there were no beautiful halls or stunning works of art. The tunnels were black and gloomy. All about her Ráma could see rats, cockroaches, and other vermin apparently attracted by the food that was stored in the closets and larders off the main corridor. It was only a large contingent of cats that kept things minimally under control. These lithe and fierce beasts freely roamed the lower halls within the palace as well as many other wealthy establishments. Adept and devoted hunters, they were not only tolerated but encouraged to do their job.

Intrigued by the sight of so many feral cats, Ráma halted to watch a regal tabby pounce delicately upon a fat mouse and toy with it for a moment before cheerfully devouring the remains. The girl was rewarded with a sharp curse and the flick of a whip about her knees as the guard on duty reminded her to get back to work. Ráma looked away and responded with a muttered curse under her breath, then continued searching for the stairwell that would lead to the main floor of the building. Once she found it, she hurried up to the second floor, continuing through the gilded hallways towards the wing where Thorn had told her that high-ranking visitors were normally housed. She had no trouble finding the right room. There was a circle of soldiers stationed at the door ostensibly for the protection of their guests. Ráma wiped the budding smirk off her face and approached the sentry in charge, gesturing towards her pail and wagon.

The Man dismissed Ráma with a scornful glance, seeing only a young male slave who had come to do routine chores. Taking a key from a metal ring that hung suspended about his waist, he hastily unlocked the door to let her in, preparing to close it again and secure the lock. Before he'd finished, he barked out an order, "Pound on the door when you're ready to leave." Ráma nodded in agreement and noted that it could be some time till all her work was finished, since these Men of Gondor were such pigs. Then she slipped inside.

The girl was relieved to see that she had come to the right room. She recognized a few articles of clothing haphazardly tossed over the back of a chair that Mithadan had worn the night before. The inner door to the sleeping quarters was still shut tight. Apparently, the Men had not yet awoken.

Ráma had intended to arouse them the minute she came into the room. But, first, she took a quick look around. Over on the side directly under the window sat an open travel satchel with a stack of official-looking documents poking out the top. She hesitated, then walked forward and grasped the edge of one of the papers with her fingers, slowly easing it up. She bent down to get a closer look. After all, she was risking her life for these Men whom she didn't even know and, more importantly, the lives of her family and friends.

Like many traditional maenwaith , Ráma was inherently cautious and hesitent to trust her fate to strangers. She pulled out several sheaves of vellum and began scanning the pages hoping to gather more information about who these men really were. From across the room, she heard the slightest noise as the knob of the inner chamber slowly turned. Almost instantaneously, the door inched open and a half-crouching figure slipped through the crack into the room, a Man whom she had never met before. Their eyes momentarily locked as Ráma uncurled her clenched fingers and the papers floated harmlessly to the floor.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 7:34 PM February 04, 2004: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]
__________________
Multitasking women are never too busy to vote.
Child of the 7th Age is offline