Post by meaningofhaste on Aug 19, 2005 17:06:41 GMT
The king straightened his shoulders and gazed into Faramir's eyes. His expression was sorrowful and still bore traces of shock, but I found myself more impressed with him I than had been hitherto as he faced with quiet dignity the traitor whom he had believed to be a devoted friend and faithful servant.
"Before I pronounce my doom, Lord Faramir, I wish to know the reason for your betrayal and what you hoped to accomplish by your plot. For I never would have believed you would bring evil upon Gondor."
"I have never sought anything but the good of Gondor," the prince replied proudly, "for I have loved her beyond anything else--even above the Lady Eowyn of Rohan." The Pincess Korallein gave a stifled sob at these words, while the dwarf Gimli grunted in derison.
"I do not, however, love Your Majesty," continued the prince. "I grant your bravery, and if a mere fighting man were worthy of the throne, I would not have moved against you. But my observations have persuaded me that you are without wit, imagination or vision--an impressive figurehead and nothing more. And I feel no guilt at attempting to usurp you, for the right of the Stewards of Gondor to the throne is as legitimate as yours!"
Gimli and Prince Legolas exclaimed in indignation and anger at the claim, but the king gestured them to be silent.
"I hoped to bring about your death," the prince continued composedly. " The best outcome of my plans would have seen the Queen leaving you and Middle Earth in anger and chagrin, and you, in shame and despair, laying down your life in the best Numenorean tradition. With no heir remaining, I felt confident that in time I would become king in name as well as in fact. If you had not the will to die, at least your prestige would suffer, and my influence would increase. And there could always be other plans, other opportunities.
"Finally, I may as well admit that I enjoyed the sight of your majesty falling into my trap and squirming in anguish." The prince's tone was light and ironical, and the gaze that he cast around at us all was one of almost playful mockery.
"Of course," he continued, "there was no plan to alter the treaty, and the excellent Haradian ambassador would be very surprised to learn of his putative demands. Mr. Holmes, I should have found some excuse for preventing your employment, even if in doing so I aroused the suspicions of Gimli and Legolas. I had you followed of course, and when I learned of your visit to the Haradian embassy, I became decidely uneasy. Thanks to Legolas and Gimli, my attempt on your life failed.
"No," the prince continued with an ironical smile, " I did not entrust that task to a lackey. It was I whom Legolas saw, wearing one of my old ranger masks." He paused, and looked at the princess, still huddled on the floor. "I was afraid, Koral, that you did not destroy all my letters as I asked. Were you so much in love, or did you not quite trust me? Such a clever place to hide it, too; in a bureaucrat's pointless report that need never had been written and would certainly never have been read."
"Yes, I loved," answered the Princess, meeting the prince's eyes. "No, I did not trust, but I wanted to believe. I admit now what I would not allow myself to acknowledge before; that I was merely your tool. How ironic it is that only my victim truly felt any tenderness for me."
I could not but feel a pang of pity for the misguided creature, unloved and desperate, humiliated and hopeless.
The prince turned again to the king. "I believe that ties up all the loose ends in the best final chapter tradition. Now may I hear Your Majesty's doom?"
"The Eagles of the North shall bear you into exile, Lord Faramir, far beyond the possibility of your return. You who claim to love Gondor will never see it again, and your bones will rest far from its soil. Legolas, see to it. Gimli, take charge of the princess." And with sagging shoulders and a sad face the king turned away.
"Severe," remarked Prince Faramir. "I would not have thought your majesty had so much imagination. Set down among savages, or in a wilderness to starve or live like a beast? I would rather invite the good Gimli to hew my neck, and I am sure he would be happy to oblige me," the prince smiled. And indeed the dwarf's broad hands were twitching on the haft of his great axe as he glowered fiercely at the prince.
Suddenly Faramir's face changed, and it seemed as though a great hunger looked out of his eyes. "Always I have been second--second to the king, second in my father's estimation, second even in the affections of the woman I loved--and if I cannot have what I desire, at least I will end my life in my own way and by my own will!"
In a flash Faramir turned and strode to the balcony. For an instant I thought he meant to hurl himself over, but he paused at the balustrade and for a long moment stood gazing over the city. Then he turned again to face us, and I shrank from the terrible exultation of his eyes. "Farewell, little King! As died the heathen kings of old, so shall I!"
In an instant the prince's tall form was engulfed in a consuming white fire before which we all shrank back, covering our faces from its heat and glare. A high, thin cry pierced our ears and died away into silence. When I dared to look nothing remained but a few white ashes. A little breeze swept the balcony lifting the ashes and holding them in an instant's suspension before they dissolved and vanished into the air.
"Thus passes Faramir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien," whispered the king, and we stood in a slilence broken only by the low sobs of the princess Korallein.
********************************************
Evening found Holmes and me installed in Prince Legolas' suite in the citadel, for Faramir's rooms were sealed and silent. I was exclaiming at the Prince's perfidy and ingratitude, but Holmes shook his head. Lounging in his characteristic position of thought, fingers interlaced beneath his chin, he commented, "A most complex and interesting criminal, Watson. Lord Faramir spoke of two women in the case, but in actuality there were three. One wonders if the outcome would have been different if the Lady Eowyn had been less fickle. Very possibly a happily-married prince with one or two flourishing children would have been content to support and counsel the king instead of plotting to supplant him.
"For after all, Watson, these martial heroes, though there are honorable exceptions, do not often make the best leaders in civilian life. The American president U.S. Grant is a case in point."
"Yes, indeed, Holmes," I responded with a touch of asperity, "I do seem to recall that President Grant was plagued by ill-intentioned and faithless advisors!"
"A hit, a most palpable hit!" exlaimed Holmes, laughing, and we let the subject drop.
*******************
Three Ringare
It is now eight days since the spectacular departure of Prince Faramir. The city is abuzz with the news, and the King and his council have been busy dealing with the furore. Wisely, there has been no attempt at dissimulation, though the Princess' role in the affair has been discretely muted. Public reaction has ranged from disbelief to the after-the-fact-wisdom of those who "always knew he was a deep 'un."
The morning after Faramir's death Princess Korallein was found cold in her bed, an empty poison vial in one hand and the lock of red-gold hair in the other. Nothing in the Prince's behavior was more coldly cruel and cynical than his manipulation of this vulnerable creature's starved affections.
The return of Queen Arwen is expected at any moment, and her reaction to the news of the theft and recovery of the stone and its effect on the king and the fate of the Kingdom leaves us on tenterhooks. Holmes and I have not seen Elessar since the fateful day, but through Legolas Holmes and I have learned that he intends to confess all.
*******************
Four Ringare
After luncheon today Legolas came to our chambers, his usually blank and impassive features lit with excitement.
He urged us out of the room, scarcely giving me time to brush the ashes of the excellent pipe-weed with which Gimli had supplied Holmes and me from my waistcoat.
The elf prince escorted us to a small but beautiful garden, ornamented with tasteful statuary and a tiny fountain. "Your majesty," he murmured in tones of respect bordering on awe, "Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson," and silently withdrew.
As one we turned and beheld the most exquisite and majestic creature mortal mind could imagine. Byron's famous lines, "She walks in beauty like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies. . ." leaped irresistably to my mind as we beheld her brilliant eyes and raven tresses.
"Gentlemen," and her voice was like ethereal music, "Gondor, her King, and I owe you a great debt. How shall we reward you?" Her serene gaze enveloped us, and a gentle but confident smile touched her perfect lips.
I was speechless, and indeed fear that I goggled like a hooked fish, but Holmes's was equal to the occasion.
"Majesty," he replied with a deep reverence, "the greatest reward you could offer is the knowledge that all
is well with the Queen and King of Gondor."
Queen Arwen regarded us gravely for a moment, and then an irresistable sparkle of mischief lit her grave eyes, and her smile warmed. "Gentlemen, these words are for you alone and not to be repeated. . ." She paused and Holmes and I signified our wordless assent. Suddenly she laughed, an intoxicating ripple of merriment.
"The king has told me all--all--and I let him know how deeply hurt and angered I have been--just enough to make him feel punished and relieved--and then, then I. . . . forgave him!"
"You Majesty's wisdom equals your beauty," responded Holmes with another bow, which I imitated, still unable to speak.
"Gentlemen," continued the queen, 'the king and I wish to give you a tangible award." Turing to a small table at her side she picked up a shining locket set with brilliants
and presented it to Holmes. "Open it," she commanded, and Holmes did so, revealing miniatures of the King and Queen. "These images are visible to you and Dr. Watson only," she smiled. Holmes accepted the magical trinket with a deep obeisance, and placed it reverently inside his waistcoat.
Turning to me, the queen produced a crystal vial containing a ruby liquid. "This essence, Dr. Watson, is not a cure for any disease, but rather will give strength and courage to your patients so that your own efforts may be more effective. You need only follow the attached directions."
I managed to stammer of few words of thanks, and accepted the vial. (In passing, I may state that the essence has been of inestimable value to me in my practice, and is the foundation of the high and underserved reputation I have gained in medical circles. I have given samples to emminent chemists, but all their efforts have failed to identify the vital ingredient or to replicate the potion).
With a smile and slight inclination of her head, the queen indicated that our interview was over. Legolas reappeared and escorted us back to our quarters where we were joined by Gimli.
I could not resist exclaiming, once we were all seated and supplied with suitable restoratives, at how his majesty could even have noticed the unhappy Korallein, much less paid her any attentions with such a glorious lady as the Queen as his consort.
"I hope I do not offend, gentlemen," began Holmes sententiously, glancing at Legolas and Gimli, " if I say that the king is modest by nature and inclined to feel unworthy of his great fortune. Prince Faramir explained the Queen's sacrifices in marrying him, and I venture on the opinion that he felt oppressed by gratitude and overawed by her splendid character. With these feelings, it is not surprising that a less awe-inspiring lady offered reassurance."
"True, Mr. Holmes," responded the elf prince, "but unnecessarily so, for Queen Arwen has no regrets." "Aye," growled the dwarf, "Elessar has no need to doubt himself, though sometimes I have felt that he is not quite the same man since he went over that cliff."
I was about to query this remarkable statement, when Legolas interrupted to say that his experiments with the seeing stone had progressed to the point that in another 24 hours he believed he could transport us back to Baker Street.
The news immediately put all other considerations from my mind, for I had been privately much exercised as to how Holmes and I were to return to our own age, if indeed a return was even possible.
****************
Five Ringare
The four of us are gathered in Legolas' study, Gimli in a position of observation, and the prince, Holmes and I (once more clad in our own familiar garments) before the hearth. "Picture in your minds," the prince commanded, "some feature of your sitting room. Keep it firmly fixed and let nothing distract you." Holmes and I exchanged glances. "The portrait of our own queen?" I ventured. "Agreed!" responded Holmes, and we turned to Legolas.
"Good luck, laddies," growled Gimli from his corner. I called to my mental eye the portrait of our gracious sovereign that hung above the Baker Street mantel, picturing her homely but benevolent features.
Legolas placed the glowing stone on his entended palm, and once again Holmes and I placed our hands over it. The elf laid his hand over ours, and instantly we were hurtling through the fire-slashed, suffocating dark.
At last I felt firm ground under my feet, but to my astonishment and dismay, we were not in the comfortable warmth of our Baker Street sitting room, but instead standing in a cold rain. Then came Holmes' reassuring voice, "It appears we have gone a little astray, Watson, for we are on the steps of the Albert Memorial."
Indeed, the great Gothic edifice loomed above us in the semidarkness. Prince Legolas was staring upward at it, an expression of disbelief on his handsome features.
"What is it, Mr. Holmes?" he gasped.
"The Albert Memorial, your highness," replied Holmes, "erected by our own gracious Queen Victoria to the memory of her late husband, Albert the Prince Consort. Apparently a trace of Albert pervades even portraits of her majesty; hence our having overshot Baker Street."
The elf wrenched his gaze from the group of figures depicting Commerce. "Did she hate him so much, then?" he marveled.
"There is every reason to believe, Prince Legolas, that the monument was meant as a sincere tribute," replied Holmes gravely. "May the Valar preserve me!" ejeculated the prince, and with a farewell glance at Holmes and me, and a final disbelieving stare at Commerce, he raised the seeing stone and vanished.
"The memorial obviously does not agree with the elvish aesthetic," remarked Holmes. "I sincerely hope the Prince does not find himself returning to Gondor by way of the New York Stock Exchange."
Holmes laid his hand on my shoulder in an uncharcteristically intimate gesture. "Let us see if we can find a hansom that will take us back to Baker Street," he proposed, and together we set out through the icy drizzle.
"Before I pronounce my doom, Lord Faramir, I wish to know the reason for your betrayal and what you hoped to accomplish by your plot. For I never would have believed you would bring evil upon Gondor."
"I have never sought anything but the good of Gondor," the prince replied proudly, "for I have loved her beyond anything else--even above the Lady Eowyn of Rohan." The Pincess Korallein gave a stifled sob at these words, while the dwarf Gimli grunted in derison.
"I do not, however, love Your Majesty," continued the prince. "I grant your bravery, and if a mere fighting man were worthy of the throne, I would not have moved against you. But my observations have persuaded me that you are without wit, imagination or vision--an impressive figurehead and nothing more. And I feel no guilt at attempting to usurp you, for the right of the Stewards of Gondor to the throne is as legitimate as yours!"
Gimli and Prince Legolas exclaimed in indignation and anger at the claim, but the king gestured them to be silent.
"I hoped to bring about your death," the prince continued composedly. " The best outcome of my plans would have seen the Queen leaving you and Middle Earth in anger and chagrin, and you, in shame and despair, laying down your life in the best Numenorean tradition. With no heir remaining, I felt confident that in time I would become king in name as well as in fact. If you had not the will to die, at least your prestige would suffer, and my influence would increase. And there could always be other plans, other opportunities.
"Finally, I may as well admit that I enjoyed the sight of your majesty falling into my trap and squirming in anguish." The prince's tone was light and ironical, and the gaze that he cast around at us all was one of almost playful mockery.
"Of course," he continued, "there was no plan to alter the treaty, and the excellent Haradian ambassador would be very surprised to learn of his putative demands. Mr. Holmes, I should have found some excuse for preventing your employment, even if in doing so I aroused the suspicions of Gimli and Legolas. I had you followed of course, and when I learned of your visit to the Haradian embassy, I became decidely uneasy. Thanks to Legolas and Gimli, my attempt on your life failed.
"No," the prince continued with an ironical smile, " I did not entrust that task to a lackey. It was I whom Legolas saw, wearing one of my old ranger masks." He paused, and looked at the princess, still huddled on the floor. "I was afraid, Koral, that you did not destroy all my letters as I asked. Were you so much in love, or did you not quite trust me? Such a clever place to hide it, too; in a bureaucrat's pointless report that need never had been written and would certainly never have been read."
"Yes, I loved," answered the Princess, meeting the prince's eyes. "No, I did not trust, but I wanted to believe. I admit now what I would not allow myself to acknowledge before; that I was merely your tool. How ironic it is that only my victim truly felt any tenderness for me."
I could not but feel a pang of pity for the misguided creature, unloved and desperate, humiliated and hopeless.
The prince turned again to the king. "I believe that ties up all the loose ends in the best final chapter tradition. Now may I hear Your Majesty's doom?"
"The Eagles of the North shall bear you into exile, Lord Faramir, far beyond the possibility of your return. You who claim to love Gondor will never see it again, and your bones will rest far from its soil. Legolas, see to it. Gimli, take charge of the princess." And with sagging shoulders and a sad face the king turned away.
"Severe," remarked Prince Faramir. "I would not have thought your majesty had so much imagination. Set down among savages, or in a wilderness to starve or live like a beast? I would rather invite the good Gimli to hew my neck, and I am sure he would be happy to oblige me," the prince smiled. And indeed the dwarf's broad hands were twitching on the haft of his great axe as he glowered fiercely at the prince.
Suddenly Faramir's face changed, and it seemed as though a great hunger looked out of his eyes. "Always I have been second--second to the king, second in my father's estimation, second even in the affections of the woman I loved--and if I cannot have what I desire, at least I will end my life in my own way and by my own will!"
In a flash Faramir turned and strode to the balcony. For an instant I thought he meant to hurl himself over, but he paused at the balustrade and for a long moment stood gazing over the city. Then he turned again to face us, and I shrank from the terrible exultation of his eyes. "Farewell, little King! As died the heathen kings of old, so shall I!"
In an instant the prince's tall form was engulfed in a consuming white fire before which we all shrank back, covering our faces from its heat and glare. A high, thin cry pierced our ears and died away into silence. When I dared to look nothing remained but a few white ashes. A little breeze swept the balcony lifting the ashes and holding them in an instant's suspension before they dissolved and vanished into the air.
"Thus passes Faramir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien," whispered the king, and we stood in a slilence broken only by the low sobs of the princess Korallein.
********************************************
Evening found Holmes and me installed in Prince Legolas' suite in the citadel, for Faramir's rooms were sealed and silent. I was exclaiming at the Prince's perfidy and ingratitude, but Holmes shook his head. Lounging in his characteristic position of thought, fingers interlaced beneath his chin, he commented, "A most complex and interesting criminal, Watson. Lord Faramir spoke of two women in the case, but in actuality there were three. One wonders if the outcome would have been different if the Lady Eowyn had been less fickle. Very possibly a happily-married prince with one or two flourishing children would have been content to support and counsel the king instead of plotting to supplant him.
"For after all, Watson, these martial heroes, though there are honorable exceptions, do not often make the best leaders in civilian life. The American president U.S. Grant is a case in point."
"Yes, indeed, Holmes," I responded with a touch of asperity, "I do seem to recall that President Grant was plagued by ill-intentioned and faithless advisors!"
"A hit, a most palpable hit!" exlaimed Holmes, laughing, and we let the subject drop.
*******************
Three Ringare
It is now eight days since the spectacular departure of Prince Faramir. The city is abuzz with the news, and the King and his council have been busy dealing with the furore. Wisely, there has been no attempt at dissimulation, though the Princess' role in the affair has been discretely muted. Public reaction has ranged from disbelief to the after-the-fact-wisdom of those who "always knew he was a deep 'un."
The morning after Faramir's death Princess Korallein was found cold in her bed, an empty poison vial in one hand and the lock of red-gold hair in the other. Nothing in the Prince's behavior was more coldly cruel and cynical than his manipulation of this vulnerable creature's starved affections.
The return of Queen Arwen is expected at any moment, and her reaction to the news of the theft and recovery of the stone and its effect on the king and the fate of the Kingdom leaves us on tenterhooks. Holmes and I have not seen Elessar since the fateful day, but through Legolas Holmes and I have learned that he intends to confess all.
*******************
Four Ringare
After luncheon today Legolas came to our chambers, his usually blank and impassive features lit with excitement.
He urged us out of the room, scarcely giving me time to brush the ashes of the excellent pipe-weed with which Gimli had supplied Holmes and me from my waistcoat.
The elf prince escorted us to a small but beautiful garden, ornamented with tasteful statuary and a tiny fountain. "Your majesty," he murmured in tones of respect bordering on awe, "Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson," and silently withdrew.
As one we turned and beheld the most exquisite and majestic creature mortal mind could imagine. Byron's famous lines, "She walks in beauty like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies. . ." leaped irresistably to my mind as we beheld her brilliant eyes and raven tresses.
"Gentlemen," and her voice was like ethereal music, "Gondor, her King, and I owe you a great debt. How shall we reward you?" Her serene gaze enveloped us, and a gentle but confident smile touched her perfect lips.
I was speechless, and indeed fear that I goggled like a hooked fish, but Holmes's was equal to the occasion.
"Majesty," he replied with a deep reverence, "the greatest reward you could offer is the knowledge that all
is well with the Queen and King of Gondor."
Queen Arwen regarded us gravely for a moment, and then an irresistable sparkle of mischief lit her grave eyes, and her smile warmed. "Gentlemen, these words are for you alone and not to be repeated. . ." She paused and Holmes and I signified our wordless assent. Suddenly she laughed, an intoxicating ripple of merriment.
"The king has told me all--all--and I let him know how deeply hurt and angered I have been--just enough to make him feel punished and relieved--and then, then I. . . . forgave him!"
"You Majesty's wisdom equals your beauty," responded Holmes with another bow, which I imitated, still unable to speak.
"Gentlemen," continued the queen, 'the king and I wish to give you a tangible award." Turing to a small table at her side she picked up a shining locket set with brilliants
and presented it to Holmes. "Open it," she commanded, and Holmes did so, revealing miniatures of the King and Queen. "These images are visible to you and Dr. Watson only," she smiled. Holmes accepted the magical trinket with a deep obeisance, and placed it reverently inside his waistcoat.
Turning to me, the queen produced a crystal vial containing a ruby liquid. "This essence, Dr. Watson, is not a cure for any disease, but rather will give strength and courage to your patients so that your own efforts may be more effective. You need only follow the attached directions."
I managed to stammer of few words of thanks, and accepted the vial. (In passing, I may state that the essence has been of inestimable value to me in my practice, and is the foundation of the high and underserved reputation I have gained in medical circles. I have given samples to emminent chemists, but all their efforts have failed to identify the vital ingredient or to replicate the potion).
With a smile and slight inclination of her head, the queen indicated that our interview was over. Legolas reappeared and escorted us back to our quarters where we were joined by Gimli.
I could not resist exclaiming, once we were all seated and supplied with suitable restoratives, at how his majesty could even have noticed the unhappy Korallein, much less paid her any attentions with such a glorious lady as the Queen as his consort.
"I hope I do not offend, gentlemen," began Holmes sententiously, glancing at Legolas and Gimli, " if I say that the king is modest by nature and inclined to feel unworthy of his great fortune. Prince Faramir explained the Queen's sacrifices in marrying him, and I venture on the opinion that he felt oppressed by gratitude and overawed by her splendid character. With these feelings, it is not surprising that a less awe-inspiring lady offered reassurance."
"True, Mr. Holmes," responded the elf prince, "but unnecessarily so, for Queen Arwen has no regrets." "Aye," growled the dwarf, "Elessar has no need to doubt himself, though sometimes I have felt that he is not quite the same man since he went over that cliff."
I was about to query this remarkable statement, when Legolas interrupted to say that his experiments with the seeing stone had progressed to the point that in another 24 hours he believed he could transport us back to Baker Street.
The news immediately put all other considerations from my mind, for I had been privately much exercised as to how Holmes and I were to return to our own age, if indeed a return was even possible.
****************
Five Ringare
The four of us are gathered in Legolas' study, Gimli in a position of observation, and the prince, Holmes and I (once more clad in our own familiar garments) before the hearth. "Picture in your minds," the prince commanded, "some feature of your sitting room. Keep it firmly fixed and let nothing distract you." Holmes and I exchanged glances. "The portrait of our own queen?" I ventured. "Agreed!" responded Holmes, and we turned to Legolas.
"Good luck, laddies," growled Gimli from his corner. I called to my mental eye the portrait of our gracious sovereign that hung above the Baker Street mantel, picturing her homely but benevolent features.
Legolas placed the glowing stone on his entended palm, and once again Holmes and I placed our hands over it. The elf laid his hand over ours, and instantly we were hurtling through the fire-slashed, suffocating dark.
At last I felt firm ground under my feet, but to my astonishment and dismay, we were not in the comfortable warmth of our Baker Street sitting room, but instead standing in a cold rain. Then came Holmes' reassuring voice, "It appears we have gone a little astray, Watson, for we are on the steps of the Albert Memorial."
Indeed, the great Gothic edifice loomed above us in the semidarkness. Prince Legolas was staring upward at it, an expression of disbelief on his handsome features.
"What is it, Mr. Holmes?" he gasped.
"The Albert Memorial, your highness," replied Holmes, "erected by our own gracious Queen Victoria to the memory of her late husband, Albert the Prince Consort. Apparently a trace of Albert pervades even portraits of her majesty; hence our having overshot Baker Street."
The elf wrenched his gaze from the group of figures depicting Commerce. "Did she hate him so much, then?" he marveled.
"There is every reason to believe, Prince Legolas, that the monument was meant as a sincere tribute," replied Holmes gravely. "May the Valar preserve me!" ejeculated the prince, and with a farewell glance at Holmes and me, and a final disbelieving stare at Commerce, he raised the seeing stone and vanished.
"The memorial obviously does not agree with the elvish aesthetic," remarked Holmes. "I sincerely hope the Prince does not find himself returning to Gondor by way of the New York Stock Exchange."
Holmes laid his hand on my shoulder in an uncharcteristically intimate gesture. "Let us see if we can find a hansom that will take us back to Baker Street," he proposed, and together we set out through the icy drizzle.
Takes after his father, that lad ;D.
Cracking read tho.