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Old 11-16-2006, 06:40 PM   #24
Estelo dagnir, Melo ring
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Join Date: Oct 2002
Posts: 3,121
Durelin is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.Durelin is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.
The woman, known to those who must know her as “Jord,” was walking in the small courtyard in which she knew the recent visitors to the King had been greeted only a few moments before. She had come down to observe the day’s happenings, and particularly to watch Uldor and his behavior. He had been working carefully on his father for years, and with her help, he now might as well be sitting in that throne...if it could be called that. Even she was perfectly willing to admit that these Men of the East were so far lower than the Elves that she nearly would have preferred the company of the latter. Nearly.

For most, a walk in the courtyard was a stroll, something leisurely and done out of please: but Jord paced restlessly, not paying attention to where she was going. She was not accustomed to paying such great heed to a body before, though she had now grown used to it enough that she often found the body moving without her remembering telling it to. It was unfortunate that the connection between it and her mind was so deeply welded by her master, and it was far too much of a bother trying to keep the skin from betraying her soul. If only it had not been so long since she had to wear a mask. The times had been so prosperous – she had grown too complacent.

Her mind wandered, so to speak, to inside the King’s hall. It was still a strange sensation, almost painful, like running into a wall or being tugged back suddenly by a chain. She was bound in a way she had not been in... Her mind had strayed a little too far into the recesses of her memory, and was pulled back with a snap. She shook with anger and anticipation as her self-awareness fell into place again in the drab reality around her.

Careful to keep her awareness, she let her thoughts creep towards what was going on in that hall, reserving herself simply to possibilities, worries, assumptions, predictions, checking her mind from trying to venture into the absolute: into that room, into the minds of those present.

Things were moving quickly now. The emissary from the Elves had arrived, sent by Caranthir himself, the Child who had determined he was in charge of this bunch of Men. Likely he thought himself a godsend, a light in the darkness for these people. And perhaps he was perfect in his understanding of one thing: that this land was certainly a dark one, these days. Morgoth had been wise to get his hands on Ulfang so quickly.

If the emissary were here, that meant things were already starting to fall in after it, and she had only to make sure that they fell in the right places. The Ulfings would have to go through all the motions of an alliance with the Elves, and things would have to remain as peaceful between them as possible. She was assured that the Ulfing people had no love for the Elves, and so it might be difficult to keep them silent for too long. But those Borrims were much more of a nuisance. Their descendants had not been tempted by Morgoth’s offer, so they were now far beyond his notice. She would have to notice them, though. Jord felt so insulted by this, but she knew she could not let them get in the way, though they would surely try.

But there was nothing that could not be taken care of, quickly and quietly. She needed only to continually insure that Uldor’s mind remained loyal to hers.

At the thought of the man, she smiled.

The body began to slow its pace, both in heart and step, as she settled her mind on her target. She was prepared in every way for this war, but had no need of steel. It would be a good, clean fight, and even in the end, her hands would be spotless.
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