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Old 06-25-2003, 04:24 PM   #9
piosenniel
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The door to his study was slightly ajar. 'Strange,' he thought, his brow furrowing. 'I'm certain that I closed it as I always do.' Gaeradan drew nearer and leaned in close to the opening, his senses alert for any sounds within. It was quiet, not even the sound of a breeze through the small leaded window rustling over the papers on his desk. Ominously quiet. A palpable silence that made the hairs at the back of his neck stand up.

‘What is wrong with me today?’ he murmured to himself, his hand sliding to the knife at his belt. He had been uneasy all day, a feeling of being watched prickling at the edges of his mind.

Gaeradan nudged open the door with his foot. The light from the window fell in a bright bar across the room, puddling on the braided rug in front of the room’s small fireplace. Dust motes danced in the light, stirred up by the passage of the door as it arced open. He stepped in and looked carefully about, his eyes sweeping the room for anything out of order. He found nothing amiss.

He let out the breath he’d been holding with a relieved sigh. ‘Spooked my self,’ he said aloud, shrugging his shoulders as if to twitch off the feelings that had chilled him just moments before. Assured, he unlocked the drawer in the desk and removed a sheaf of papers bound with a blue cord and bearing the seal of the King. Directives to his captains concerning the next phase of his campaign.

Gaeradan closed the window above his desk and turned to leave the room. His eyes caught a movement near the door as a plump black cat jumped from the floor to the straight-backed chair that served as a catchall for his cloak and what ever other oddment he found in his hands as he entered his study. The cat's green-gold eyes regarded him coolly as he looked toward it.

Without thinking he strode to the door, and picked up the cat to set it outside as he left. Indignant, or perhaps simply ill tempered, the cat protested the eviction. Wriggling in the confines of Gaeradan’s free arm, she hissed and squirmed, scratching his hand until he dropped her in disgust.

Sucking at the bloody scratches, he cursed silently at her dark retreating form. ‘Berúthiel!’ he hissed, hurrying down the long hallway to the conference room.

Behind the large potted palm in the hallway, in the shadows it made against the stonework wall, another pair of green-gold eyes stared out, noting with interest where he was bound.
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Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.
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