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Old 03-23-2004, 11:37 PM   #33
Imladris
Tears of the Phoenix
 
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Join Date: Jun 2003
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Tolkien

Things were not going well, to say the least. Aeron writhed under the stream of icy water that flowed over his head and slithered under his shirt in rivers. “Stop it,” he shrieked. He would have said more, but the chilled water gagged him. Coughing and spluttering, he felt himself heaved to his feet and thrown into a chair. “Villains!” he gasped, wiping his dripping hair from his eyes. “Fine! I tried to steal the hat!”

His breath heaving, and his clothes clinging to him like the feathers of a bedraggled bird, he glared at the three people who had foiled his catch and kept him prisoner. His heart chilled and his eyes darted to the door. If they found out the true reason about why I tried to steal that hat…

He glared at each one of them under his brows. The man Raefindan with the scarlet hair. A snicker escaped him as the thought of his sister flitted across his mind. But who was he? No race of Middle-earth that he had heard of had this colour hair. He felt a bright beam of inspiration: unless he had discovered a fabulous root and had somehow dyed it. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the thin man. It was would have been much better if he, instead of Ravion, had caught him. In Raefindan’s hands, he would have been like a slippery fish. He shrugged. Nothing for it now.

He stared at Mellonin with the air of an injured puppy. She, of all people, had been the one to drive him to his ruin. It was her foot that had kicked escape away from him, her hand that had guided the bucket. And what had he ever done to her? “Why ever did you do it, milady?” He asked.

“I thought you could do with a good bath,” she answered, her eyes twinkling.

Naturally.

Ravion: Aeron’s eyes nearly disappeared under his frown; all that remained was a malignant glint. The man was shrewd, keen to see the web of lies that Aeron had woven, and he had the weight of an blasted oxe fattened for slaughter. Aeron’s back still ached when the man had sat on him: sat on him . At the humiliating thought, he flushed crimson and slouched in his chair. What was it the brute had been saying to him before Raefindan had interrupted? You think I’ve never stolen anything before? Aeron’s head snapped back, and the frown faded. The man had stolen as well. But why was it alright for him to steal? Because he was a ranger? At the thought, the frown instantly settled again, while his lips curled into a smirk. So this is what this ranger was: a man who spoke high words disapproving of the thief, yet who participated in the deed himself. Aeron laughed. The man was nothing but rising bread dough.

“I suppose you wouldn’t care to divulge your real name to us?” Ravion said, his face full of boredom.

Aeron considered protesting the question, but then decided another bath wasn’t worth the trouble. “Aeron,” he replied.
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