Although Rhys’ good-humoured remark was met with a quick nod of the head and a short reply, the smile remained on his face. He would not be bothered by the whims or quarrels of his companions as he’d never actually befriended any of them. Bonding made one dependant and vulnerable. By remaining an independent individual Rhys attempted to avoid the many clashes between the different groups which were forced to live together in the barracks. And there were enough causes to fight over. The Harads were often granted more privileges by the guards, those from Nurn were in the majority and therefore able to take the best sleeping spots or seize most of the food, people from Middle Earth were in the minority and used as the scapegoat by the other groups. It was hard in the least to live in such a diverse group, which was filled with so much tension and hatred, but with his persuasiveness, friendly smile and a bit of trading things where he could lay his hands on, Rhys was able to survive.

Analysing his day, Rhys concluded that it had been a relatively good one. Although the blisters on his feet hurt and his shoulders were stiff from all the work, he felt quite good and he looked forward to the cool shade of the barracks where he hopefully could work quietly on his escape plan. When suddenly a man clad in black grabbed his wrists Rhys’ heart made a leap and shock and confusion mastered him. He did not know the man nor the reason why he was denied of his well-deserved moment of peace and shade. The man growled a few words of explanation, which didn’t clarify much for Rhys, but he did not struggle as the man pushed him out of the line of slaves towards a beautiful woman. Although he knew that it usually an outrage to look a Lady in the eyes, Rhys couldn’t help but look at this woman. He had never seen such a beautiful creature in his life. Her blond hair shone in the last rays of sunlight, just like the glittering gems that held up her hair. Her skin was fair and pale, unlike that of the Nurnians, and her smile was like a breath of spring. She was clad in the finest silk, decorated with fine embroidery and a silver belt. When he realised that his staring might come across as insolent, he quickly aimed his gaze at her slippered feet. Her voice was soft and Rhys felt surprised by her use of words. Never had anyone here been so kind to tell him not to worry.
He had hardly any time to wonder who this woman was or her master, as he was rushed, with force, into the carriage. As the beautiful woman joined him, Rhys was suddenly overtaken by shame. Only now he realised that how dirty he was and how the chains around his wrists marked him as a ‘lesser’ man.

The carriage shook as it was driven through the sandy streets towards the heart of the city of Taurband. Rhys supressed a shiver; although it was a nice change not having to walk the dusty streets, he still felt uncomfortable. There had to be a good reason to bring someone like him to one of the better parts of the city and it unsettled Rhys. Was there something he had done? Something they had found out? What was going to happen to him? These questions all ran through his head as the carriage reduced speed and halted before halting before a large mansion. As Rhys heard the driver jump off the wagon, he again looked at the Lady.
“May I just say that you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” A grin flashed over his features which didn’t wash off when he was led towards the mansion. Yet when the large doors of the hall opened and loud and cunning voice drifted towards him, Rhys felt like his insides turned to ice; he was overwhelmed with nausea as he recognised the master of the house: Urúvion, one of the most fearsome and dangerous men of Nurn . Rhys knew the man and his reputation. His tanned complexion had paled and he glared at Morrigan with a sort of unbelief; how could that angel be a messenger of that devil?

He stood still in the middle of the hall, trying to gain control over his emotions; confusion, fear, anger and shame? In an attempt not to come across as either guilty or rebellious, Rhys just stared at the floor and wondered how he’d ever get into this mess and how on earth he could get out of it…

[To be added later: Beör! ]

_________________


O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.

Maethoriel's hair had been let loose -her features tended to be more distinctive with the tight, matted braid her locks were normally forced in and the long, mahogany locks tended to obscure the scars of her face when worn with a helm. She was taking no chances. The thick mane whipped about as she turned towards her wards, tangled in elf knots that made it look like she had been too long at see and for a short moment, with a black helm tucked securely under her arm and the grey steel of the armour gleaming in the light, a map clutched in her hand she rather resembled a heroine from a long ago story.

She sneered as she saw it in her mind's eye and clutched her head when the laughter hit her after she cursed the lord of the dead for playing such a nasty trick. I am no heroine, she griped loudly and she could imagine the shrug smirk given in response. Still muttering at the annoying Valar she stuffed the black iron helm on her head and stalked over to the group.

"Took you long enough," she snapped - there was more than annoyance in her now, there was visions and she did not need that sort of distraction. If she let herself get into a thrall it could put them back hours. "Take what is left of the armour and divide it amoungst yourselves. Be quick about it, there are still sentries about and set to return shortly," she ordered, her dark eyes barley visible in the helm with the unmanageable hair obscuring even the distinctive scar of her left eye.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Rhovanions were never wealthy. They were happy and that was all that really mattered. When they were free they had been the largest performing troupe around Rhun and had traveled about all of Middle Earth performing, dancing, singing, telling jokes. When the war began to start they did what any gypsy would...they ran. More specifically they ran home.

Unfortunately, home was on the way through some bad territory and they never made it past the black Numenoreans. The entirety of the troupe had been split up, sold, bartered and some had even been killed. Alastegiel, Revion and Rana had been the lucky ones. They were siblings and it was easily noted. They all had the same lithe physique, black hair and eyes with the dark coffee colored skin. They were also very talented in the arts, Rana could play any instrument given a few months time and play it better than most who tried for years. Alastegiel and Rana were gifted dancers and tumblers, when traveling Alas was also a well sought after courtesan who attended many a ball on the hand of noblemen.

It was their talent that had been their undoing and probably Alas' beauty as well, though that was normally hidden under a red mask made to resemble a bird's beak. They had been returning from a journey and had taken to dancing in a square when they had been set upon by Uruvion - a man who fancied himself a lord and coveted anything pretty or free. Not much for fighting - gypsies are sly as a rule, not brave - they gave up quickly and submitted quietly to the will of their master...for the most part.

Revion was a very good fool and often made sharp remarks, Alas would never play the proper doting courtesan and Rana would sometimes play a tad off key though...perhaps, only he noticed. They were asked to play and dance for the court on a daily basis and often witnessed strange things and all held a strong distaste for Morrigan who went about like a simpering dog all because she thought the man had "saved" her.

However, this was something new all together. Uruvion did not often send for slaves to attend on his court unless they were meant to be servers or entertainers, and he never sent for them directly from the barracks - he liked them to be clean and "presentable."

In the middle of the floor Alas and Revion danced merrily about, Alas' anklet jingled in time with the music and her lightweight, red skirts flared around her when she danced almost to the point of being obscene. Revion saw the door open and steered his sister off towards the source of the music, Rana sat on a pile of pillows, plucking lackadaisically at the harp in his hand before setting it aside completely. No doubt the master would not want his overblown speech to be upstaged.

"Look at her," Alas sneered watching Morrigan mount the stairs and curtsy like she was before a king and Revion rolled his eyes.

"Methinks you jealous of our lord's attention, sometimes..." Revion returned, behind the red and gold brockade of her bird mask Alas' eyes flashed dangerously. Revion smirked. "I see, better she than you then dear sister."

The woman shrugged and looked to Rana who sat cross legged and looked up at them like a child waiting for a story. He was the oldest by four years, Alas and Revion coming each two years after the birth of the other, and was by far the calmest and most reasonable. "Leave the girl's honor be," he returned quietly. "What news from the outside?" They often exchanged news when they had a chance, which was little enough.

Revion shrugged. "None at all. The war continues, the blue wizards remain dead and it looks like no one is set to right the wrongs occurring here until they themselves are confident in their seats...which could be never."

_________________
Heavens no. Hell Yeah.


Set 1: Nurr | Set 2: Me

[ Great post Mae, dear! Your three siblings absolutely awesome and I can't wait to get to know them! ]

Beör watched how Luthien with almost child-like enthusiasm followed Arawen through the many passages. Her happiness was almost tangible; her smile radiant and Beör remembered that she was only just girl. How much had she seen from the world outside the protected Minas Tirith? Where her high hopes just a result of her naivety? He didn't know.. Contrary to Luthien, Arawen showed almost none of her feelings. She led the way, hardly speaking a word, seemingly keeping as much emotional distance from Luthien and him as possible. Another passage and then another staircase of which he couldn’t see the landing. He descended the stairs, slowly, with Luthien on his side. She whispered words to him, trying to share her excitement, but Beör couldn’t speak. A lump in his throat prevented him to form any words but he didn’t know whether it was from exhaustion, Arawen’s unsettling presence or the fact that he could smell the scent of ash and dust, indicating that they were close to the scorched lands of Mordor. The staircase ended abruptly and suddenly they stood out in the open. The barren wasteland of Mordor lay before them, dark and dead, and to their left the large volcanic fiery mountain. A warm breeze caressed Beör’s face, warming his limbs. Although the air was hot and dusty, to the Ranger it appeared as fresh compared to the damp and musty air in the prison.
He just stood there, watching the lands and the clouded sky as if it was the most beautiful scene he’d ever beheld. Then his gaze slowly turned to Arawen, who carefully seemed to avoid his look, and for the first time he wondered what she felt. She had seemingly been able to go whenever she wanted. Why had she waited? Why had she lingered in Mordor for so long, when she was able to leave? Had she been plagued by her conscious? Did she still care about him?
He abruptly tore his gaze from the brunette and stared into the distance the outline of shadowy mountains could be seen. The old Arawen he once had known was dead. She had been dead for over ten years. The woman that was standing next to him was a stranger to him, and she, on her turn, didn’t seem to recognise him anymore…

_________________


O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.

(Just a small bump)

_________________
Heavens no. Hell Yeah.


Set 1: Nurr | Set 2: Me

_________________


~~Siggy by Lembas~~

As no attention was paid to him, Rhys curiously raised his head and gazed at his surroundings. The hall was large and surprisingly cool. The large space was crowded with all sort of folk who had the task to entertain their Lord. Whether it were musicians, dancers, jesters or just simple slaves that served food or wine, they all had to answer to the whims of a man, who forced them to serve him as if he was the king. The whole scene disgusted Rhys and only seemed to intensify his hatred for this man, of whom he had heard so many brutal stories. Some could just have been rumours, but there were many in the barracks who’d witnessed the ruthlessness and cruelty of Urúvion.

Rhys caught the glance of one of the gypsies, who had retreated in a corner, but didn’t avert his gaze. Somehow he couldn’t conceal his envy as he looked at them, whispering and confiding in each other. They seemed like a close group; kinsmen or family perhaps; able to trust and depend on one another.
He suddenly became aware that more people were staring at him, talking about him, but he hardly cared where they were talking about or what they thought of him. In this life in Nurn, there was no place for self-consciousness or shame. It was a life of humility and with no dignity, something his free will and sense of pride and independence had long rebelled against.

When Rhys turned his gaze towards the lavishly decorated dais, anger welled up inside him, spreading through his veins slowly like a toxic.There, on a pile of soft cushions, she lay, embraced by Urúvion, who looked at her with a mix of adoration and greed. Again, Rhys couldn’t help but notice how her hair shone in the sharp daylight, how bright her eyes were, how Urúvion was playing with her hand.. it was sickening and somehow it fuelled his furiousness. What was this woman anyway? His slave? His courtesan? His mistress?

Worriedly, Rhys tried to analysed his own feelings. He was not sure why this woman affected him so much. In the past he’d been a man without enemies; a loyal friend, looking out for those he cared about. Never holding a grudge for long, he was known for his amiability and jokes but also his quick temper. That was, however, in another life; his life in Minas Tirith. Among the other slaves in Taurband he was known as a loner, just like all the others only out for personal gain. And although he now had a more realistic outlook on life, he tried hard not to let this ruin his mood or personality. His ruined life would never ruin his day. Still, this blonde seemed to have somehow cast a spell on him, that made him want to strangle and love her at the same time.

Urúvion’s loud words, obviously now directed at him, interrupted his train of thoughts. His sneering remarks, that were meant to provoke him, echoed in Rhys’ ears. Yet he was determined not to say anything, as he didn’t want to give Urúvion the pleasure of knowing what for impact his words had on him. Rhys tried to concentrate on the white, plastered wall opposite of him and to take no notice of what was said to him. Only when Urúvion mentioned the word `crime’ Rhys abruptly looked up; panic seemed to gripe him once again like a fist. What crimes was he speaking of? He had not done anything.. yet. Was it some sort of trap set out to get rid of him? Whatever it was, it meant trouble; big trouble.

Rhys trembled as he took a deep breath, before carefully weighing his words. “Does it matter what I’ve to say? Would my confession make any difference? You’ve already condemned anyway.” He directed his gaze to Morrigan, who had less than an hour ago told him not to worry; that all would be fine and he remembered how he earlier had perceived her as innocent and he was still not able to believe that she, one of his people, could be capable of such skilled deceit. “My words are of no value, nor is my life,” Rhys continued. He now looked Urúvion straight in the eyes. “So, I have nothing to say to you..”
He realised what the man was doing. He was playing with him, like a hungry wolf that was toying with his prey before devouring it. But Rhys would not play along, he would not be compliant. Whether it was only to swipe that self-satisfied grin of Urúvion face or because of that flimsy bit of pride he got left, he would not be humiliated..


-------------------------


Beör did not know how long he stood there, gazing at his surroundings, drinking in every little detail, from the sharp edges of the rocks to the golden glow of the lava that erupted from the Mountain of Fire. Although the landscape was anything but pretty or welcoming he somehow couldn’t stop looking, he couldn’t get enough of the warm wind on his face or the smell of the scorched earth. It was so different from anything he had known for those past years. Only then the Ranger realised that he had warm hands for the first time in fourteen years.

He tore his eyes from the horizon as Arawen offered him a chain mail shirt and he only looked at it with disgust without touching it. “I’m not going to wear that,” he said sarcastically. “If I’ll have to walk about 100 miles with that on, we will never make it..” He looked up at Arawen, his gaze determined. He meant it. The armour was way too heavy and it would not only slow them down on their journey, but also minimize their agility and swiftness in combat. As he now looked at the large plateau of Gorgoroth he once more realised that the hardest part of the journey was only to begin. There was hardly any food or water to be found in these dead lands and there was no shelter to hide from their enemies. If they wanted to succeed in escaping they had to be quiet and swift. But could he be swift? Uncertainty weighed heavily on his shoulder as he more and more started to believe that he was the weakest link in their escape plan. Alive, yet starved and exhausted, his condition was not good in the least. Would the long journey through the barren wasteland of Mordor take too much toll of him?

Suddenly he realised that Arawen was still standing next to him but as he caught her gaze, he found that he could not look at her. His hatred and incomprehension had not subsided, but there was also something different, a sort of raw pain; a pain of loss; the pain of that what had been broken and lost so many years ago. Not willing to feel that pain now once again, Beör turned away, looking for Luthien. The girl was standing on the edge of the cliff, looking quite forlorn. The chain mail shirt, which she was wearing, did not suit her tiny, fragile figure. Yet there was no trace of worry or helplessness to be found on her face. For a moment Beör just stood next to her, following her gaze.
“An inviting view, don’t you think?” His lips curled up and a genuine smile appeared on his pale face. It made him look younger; a complete different person. He looked at her and realised how he owed this all to her. If it wasn’t for her, he would never have escaped. “Luthien..” His voice cracked. He wanted to say so much, but was not able to form the words. He needed to express his gratitude, his guilt, his fondness for her, but he just couldn’t. “I’m sorry..” he finally said quietly. “I’m sorry for-“
But he couldn’t finish his sentence. A loud, deadly shriek echoed through the sky. A piercing shriek that was a foreboder of terror and fear. Beör was chilled to the bone; terrified as the Nazgul came into sight. He couldn’t think or move. He stood petrified on the edge of the cliff, while his mind was overwhelmed by darkness. All had been for nothing. Their plan had failed.. How had they ever thought to succeed..? To resist?.

Beör was only vaguely aware that he was dragged into the shadows of the cave and thrown to the ground. Automatically, out of self-preservation, he curled up like a ball, covering his ears with his arms. He was seized by fear and expected that the coming of the Nazgul could only results in death..
But when the sound of high-pitched screams seemed to diminish and his fear subsided, it dawned to Beör that Nazgul were gone, whether or not they had been noticed, they were left alone for now. Slowly the Ranger rose to his feet, only to hear the agonized cries of Arawen. She lay in Luthien’s arms, hardly able to hold in the cries of pain, that was inflicted on her by an invisible force.

Help her! Luthien cried, panic seemed to overwhelm her now Arawen had lost consciousness. One of you, help her.

But Beör did not move. An amazing, satisfied feeling overwhelmed him. Why would he help her? Had Arawen once in her life tried to help him? The fact that she would only suffer a fraction of what he had suffered, feel the pain that he had felt, was so immensely satisfying that for a few moments Beör only stood there. But when he looked at Luthien’s desperate face and remembered that the Nazgul might just have discovered their hiding place, he shrugged off those thoughts, feeling sick of himself, and fell on his knees next to Arawen’s limp body.

“Balck magic..” he mumbled to Luthien. “The Mouth might be onto us.. We need to go- now!”
Putting her arm around his shoulder, Beör rose to his feet, lifting Arawen’s body as well. For the first time he turned to Maethoriel and spoke: “Is the pass the only way? Can you lead the way?”

[ I also want to share a brilliant piece of music with you. It's from the soundtrack of LOST and I really enjoyed listening to this, while writing for SN. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1xTtDxzcr-E ]

_________________


O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.

_________________


~~Siggy by Lembas~~

Rhys remained silent when he had spoken. It felt as if he was standing in a courtroom, in front of a jury, awaiting to be sentenced. With Urúvion and his enchanting confidante as judges and the rest of the court as jury. He shivered slightly as he faced this crowd all alone and realised that there was no one on his side. In the past. Rhys often had felt alone and detached from the world, but now in that moment as the tensed silence stretched on, he felt lonelier than he had ever felt. He was on his own and it depended only on his own courage and strength if he would survive.

Urúvion's cruel smile and venomous words made his blood run cold and turn his insides to ice. The man had obviously noted that Rhys was not going to play by his rules and therefore he ended the game; he would end his life. Panic almost mastered the young man when Urúvion gestured the clerk and was about to seal his fate. Wild thoughts ran through his head. This could not be happening.. This could not be the end. He was way too young to die. He was innocent.. Many had he seen die, but that would not happen to him...

Almost as if bored by this duty, which interrupted his daily merriment, Urúvion signed the parchment that condemned him for crimes he had never committed. Rhys stared at him as he beckoned the clerk for the seal, watched everything happen almost in slow-motion. His legs were trembling and his knees suddenly could not bear the weight of his body any longer. The sound of the iron chains clattering on the marble floor,as Rhys fell on his knees, was almost deafening in the silence. His heart was pounding so hard that it was painful. Never had Rhys been so aware of his own heartbeat, of the steady beat of his life, as he was then in those seconds that seemed to pass so slowly. In that moment he felt panic gripping him by the throat, almost making it impossible to breathe, he noted how fear clouded his mind. It felt like he had somehow ended up in a nightmare; a nightmare in which his worst fear would come true..

But then Morrigan’s voice sounded clearly through the mist of frightening thoughts. She lay on her knees at Uruvion’s feet and pleaded –for his life. Only then Rhys looked up at the dais again, yet he did not allow himself to hope. He silently wondered why the girl would do anything like that for him. Had she not brought him here? Lured him into a feeling of false safety? Yet, she looked perfectly terrified as she spoke out against her protector. As he heard Urúvion's kind reassurances to the girl of her not having to see him die, Rhys tried to ignore the nauseating feeling in his stomach. He sat on his knees, almost motionless, and listened how his fate was discussed. The fact that his life meant little or that his death was of no consequence to any of them was not lost on him. He did not matter; his life was meaningless. He was just one of many who had been exploited and was now easily discarded. Deep inside Rhys knew that he didn’t believe that. But at that moment, with his self-respect scattered to pieces, it was easy to believe.

With a jerk Rhys raised his head as he heard Morrigan’s final plea. She begged Urúvion to spare him for her, because of her love for him. Tears streamed down her pretty face, like it was her life that was about to end. Rhys held his breath, hoping and praying that Urúvion would yield, that he would change his mind, that the love of Morrigan did mean something to him. He repeated it over and over again, like a mantra, until Urúvion spoke again. His malicious smile and smooth voice did not bode well. Being more quick-witted than Morrigan, Rhys immediately derived Urúvion’s cruel plan. Almost without thinking he jumped to his feet, took a few steps forward, before exclaiming with a hoarse voice: “No!”.
The two guards, clad in black, who until then had only been guarding him, now sprang forward, grabbed him by the arms and yanked him to the ground. Breathing heavily Rhys tried to block out everything that happened around him and to restrain his anger. He could live, as long as he was to serve in Urúvion’s court as Morrigan’s property, forced to play Urúvion’s game by his rules, as long as he was humiliated day after day. Had he only moments ago feared for his life and had his only hope been to live, he now dreaded the opportunity of life that had been given to him. When working in the fields his life had at least been anonymous and just bearable. Rhys could not take even more humiliation or more obedience and he started to wonder whether the price of life had not become too high…

_________________


O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.

_________________


~~Siggy by Lembas~~

(Things Maethoriel does not like: Interference)

Maethoriel did not take kindly to being pushed behind a rock. She fairly stepped out the moment the other three coward. Her dark eyes glared at the sky, blaming the flying annoyances hovering about for this indignity. The Nazgul were terrifying for those who had a safe sense of wanting to live, Maethoriel had little enough of that left. Those beings are the ones that catapulted her into darkness, only to have herself shoved back to the living by an annoyed huff. She snorted and brushed herself off, like the dirt settled on her clothing made her permanently grimy, weather stained clothing more acceptable.

The landscape around her had suddenly become bereft of beings. Which was good for them. The Nazgul had that benefit to them, when they arrived, everything scattered if they were not forced to obey one of their commands. Her lips twisted under the metal of her helm into something resembling a grin. A cry came from behind her and at first she expected to see the youngest child laying on the ground flat, faint from her first encounter with the black riders. What she found was not too surprising, but even more annoying. Luckily, the Mouth was an idiot and had not checked his cells. He knew her own power and probably counted on this annoyance to slow her, and provide him with some entertainment.

Her anger boiled as Beor lifted Arawen and Luthien whimpered about like a kicked puppy. "Of course I know the way. You think I would help you escape without a proper route mapped, child?" She asked derisively. Children could be so ridiculous sometimes. Her annoyance peaked as the woman croaked out something about being left and the smaller one begged assistance.

"Silence!" She snapped, stalking over to the group. "Bloody...I will show him why I wear this damned cloak...." she muttered. The woman pulled at the gauntlets and placed a bare hand on Arawen's forehead. She could feel the darkness swirling through her body, constricting and burning. "Oh look at this," she murmured appreciatively. The Mouth did know torture, but there was hardly time for admiration, as much as she thought the girl could take a bit of kicking. Her own magic, which had been itching through her body, threatening to take hold rushed out filled the girl. It was not a kind cleansing, it was force and steel and flame, but after it was over there was not a speck of the black in her. Maethoriel stepped back before she overstepped her boundaries and burned the girl from the inside out.

With that done she let her mind stretch and find the Mouth. Grinning she spun a bit of black magic left from him and quite literally forced it down his throat. You are keeping me from a job, she snarled mentally, you can play with your dogs on your own time, but right now I am using it for hunting and I will not tolerate your interference. I sincerely doubt our Master would much appreciate your disruption of this very important search. She finished, drawing back and looking at the tired girl once more.

"You and I can take turns carrying her. Leaving her would be dangerous. She is too well known in these parts. You leave her and the entire plot will be found out." She looked at Luthien and finished pulling on her gauntlets, which she had collected from the ground and settled them on her shoulders, her eyes locking with the girl's, looking through her for a moment. "She is fine, child. Just tired. Let her rest and keep silent. Understand? You there," she rounded on Beor, her tone clipped - infinitely annoyed at her reinstatement as a leader, "tell me when you tire. Do not fall."

(I'll get the gypsies soon)

_________________
Heavens no. Hell Yeah.


Set 1: Nurr | Set 2: Me

[ Maeth = just brilliance

I'll try to get a post up soon ]

_________________


O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.

As Rhys was led to an adjoining room of the great hall, he hardly struggled. He couldn’t grasp what just had happened. He could barely wrap his head around the idea that that afternoon his life had been relatively carefree. The days were exhaustive and hard, filled with disgrace and humiliation, but the thought that he could escape this life, within months or weeks perhaps, had given him with strength and consolation. Now, only a few hours later, he had experienced despair and fear after being sentenced to death, only to be spared at the one condition that he would suffer, as long as he was humiliated..

The hallway was dark and relatively cool. How he would love to just sit there and be left alone; to have only a few moments of peace. When the door was shut behind him, he at last looked at Morrigan, his sunburnt face drawn with anger.

I know what you must think of me. If it is any comfort to you, you are not alone. I cannot stand myself either.

“You dare to assume to know what I think.. and what I feel?” Rhys voice trembled and he took a few steps so that he was standing closely to Morrigan. Misery was written all over her pretty face, but even her beauty did not lessen his anger. He wanted to hurt her, so that she would know how it felt to be hurt. But as soon as Rhys realised that, he immediately took a few steps back and turned his back on her, shocked by the intensity of his own emotions.

“How can you live with yourself? Is life just a game to you? Or have you gone blind to everything that surrounds you?”
For a moment Rhys remained silent, as he tried to calm himself. The only sound in the hallway was the clanking of his chains on the floor and Rhys’ heavy breathing.

“You cannot do this. You just cannot just snatch someone from his life and decide over his life as if it means nothing.. I had a life. I was doing fine before you came along.. I had.. things..-” Words failed him as he tried to explain that whatever life he lived, was his own. He still tried to pretend that he could still make decisions of his own. That items, however small and insignificant like candle stumps or small pots, were his own possessions. But now that life had been stolen – again.

“But I tell you now,” he said with a sort of forced calmness in his voice. “I will never serve you. I swear that I will do everything in my power to thwart you. You will regret this day..”

For a moment he looked up at Morrigan again, wondering whether she would tolerate such behaviour, but then again Rhys felt like he didn’t care. He didn’t care about what she thought or felt. The moment in the carriage when he had told her that she was beautiful seemed ages ago. But he hardly cared about her beauty now. Slowly he sank onto the ground, leaning against the cool, white plastered walls . He closed his eyes, feeling tired like he hadn’t felt in a long time. Flexible as he was, he had already come to terms with his fate. But still, his mind was resolutely set: he would never bend to the will of Urúvion or his accomplice.


[Beör's post will be added later.. I figured that that plotline is a bit slower anyway.]

_________________


O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.

_________________


~~Siggy by Lembas~~

[ Wow! That was really unexpected Goldy! I'm wondering how this all will turn out! ]

The fact that Morrigan did not speak a word was remarkable, but Rhys did not pay any attention to it. Grateful for every moment of prolonged silence, he kept his eyes closed and felt how his limbs finally relaxed. He heard how the girl took a few paces towards him and tripped. He quickly opened his eyes and looked at her, not laughing or gloating, his face just emotionless. He noticed her tears, her trembling body, the pain on her face and he was puzzled as to why she was so very much upset. Had his anger affected her that much? Did she actually care?

He watched her, silently, as she sat on her knees, close to him. Tears shimmered on her face and she averted her look, trying to regain her composure. Rhys suddenly wondered how everything came to be as it was now. Once their lives might not have been so different. Once they had lived free lives, somewhere in the West. They could have been acquainted or neighbours, but now they were strangers from different worlds, perhaps even enemies.

Morrigan got on her feet again and suddenly started talking. And as she spoke, Rhys felt something that he had not felt before. He felt pity, pity for the girl,who seemed to have been robbed from all she had: her strength; her courage; her free will. The only thing she had left was fear; fear for everyone and everything; fear for her life.
Rhys looked up at her again, the look on his face had softened this time. “If you don’t want me here, then let me leave,” he said, with a pleading tone in his voice. “Tell him you don’t want me around, that you want me to leave..”

Even now Rhys’ anger had subsided, it seemed that Morrigan couldn’t stop crying. She sobbed uncontrollably, trembled and then collapsed on the floor. Morrigan’s body suddenly started to spasm and her eyes rolled in their sockets, she was obviously unable to control her body. Rhys jumped to his feet, shocked by the fit Morrigan was having. He had never seen anything like this in his life before. He did not know what to do and could only watc as her limbs convulsed uncontrollably but no sound came from her mouth. Rhys didn’t answer steward nor did he listen to his panicking words. For a moment he just stood there, watching that horrifying scene and in that moment he was certain that such an attack could only lead to one thing: death.

The steward had ran to the great hall, but Rhys had hardly noticed the man come or go. He fell on his knees next to Morrigan and placed his arm under his head so that she would not hit her head on the tiled floor, with his other arm he tried to keep her body from convulsing, but his chained wrists didn't allow him to get a good grip. Gently he stroked her golden hair, but the convulsions did not diminish. Enemy or no enemy, it didn not matter now. All that Rhys now saw was a woman of his kin, who was in pain and perhaps even dying and he could not stand by and let that happen.


[I'm sorry for this horrible post.. but I'm really tired and couldn't come up with something better..]

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O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.

[Hey! I just wanted to say that I haven't forgotten about my Beör post, but I was wondering whether I should post it now.. or just wait a bit, so that we can easily pick up that storyline once Mae has her life back..

How are you doing Mae? ]

_________________


O children, lift up your voice, lift up your voice,
Children, rejoice, rejoice..



It doesn't matter you don't believe in God, He believes in you.

(Alive! It's magic. Y'all can continue, I don't really have much to say for Nurn because my gypsies are not near them at all. So I'll pull them in when I think they'll fit)

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Heavens no. Hell Yeah.


Set 1: Nurr | Set 2: Me