Eighteen years later
Mar 8, 2009 0:03:23 GMT -5
Post by Steerpike on Mar 8, 2009 0:03:23 GMT -5
At first, there had been dislike from the populace. It eventually turned to a guarded trust, and then finally to shrugs and lighthearted comments like "Even if he's a tyrant, he's a tyrant in our favor."
The poorest of the kingdom revered him, for they knew he had once been one of them.
The king of Lorien was occasionally mistaken for being an elf by visitors and diplomats from other kingdoms, if only because he had reigned for nearly twenty years and yet still looked quite young. Murdering your way to the throne at seventeen had its advantages.
At the moment, though, he was sitting casually behind a large desk, sideways in his chair, with his legs hooked over one of the armrests, and examining a long, polished black stick in his hands.
"And even after you continued searching for her," he said softly, almost boredly, "you still could not manage to turn up even a trace of where she might have gone?"
He glanced away from the stick and raised an eyebrow at a trembling male elf standing before the desk.
"Well?" said Steerpike.
The elf opened his mouth a few times, but managed to make nothing stronger than a small, cracked wail of a noise.
"Out with it, you miserable pusbag!" Steerpike snapped.
The elf shut his eyes and swallowed hard. Steerpike slowly began tugging on the end of the stick, revealing the long rapier concealed within.
"I believe I asked you a question," Steerpike said in a quiet voice as he came closer, tapping the rapier against one palm. "I would like to be answered..."
The elf opened his eyes long enough to see the king coming toward him with the rapier, tapping it against his palm, the royal shoulders rising in sick, gleeful anticipation.
"I didn't see her leave- no one heard anything-"
"No one?" Steerpike asked, tilting his head in mock sympathy. "My daughter must be some kind of enchantress, then, to vanish without her personal guardsman knowing!"
Cold steel pressed against the elf's throat.
"I think," said Steerpike, "that then perhaps you should vanish too."
There was a gasp that turned into a gag, and then a thump, and two more elves stepped forward to retrieve the body.
"Thank you, gentlemen," Steerpike said idly as he cleaned off his sword. The two other elves nodded quickly and carried Princess Eva's personal guard away.
"What a waste," sighed the King.
The poorest of the kingdom revered him, for they knew he had once been one of them.
The king of Lorien was occasionally mistaken for being an elf by visitors and diplomats from other kingdoms, if only because he had reigned for nearly twenty years and yet still looked quite young. Murdering your way to the throne at seventeen had its advantages.
At the moment, though, he was sitting casually behind a large desk, sideways in his chair, with his legs hooked over one of the armrests, and examining a long, polished black stick in his hands.
"And even after you continued searching for her," he said softly, almost boredly, "you still could not manage to turn up even a trace of where she might have gone?"
He glanced away from the stick and raised an eyebrow at a trembling male elf standing before the desk.
"Well?" said Steerpike.
The elf opened his mouth a few times, but managed to make nothing stronger than a small, cracked wail of a noise.
"Out with it, you miserable pusbag!" Steerpike snapped.
The elf shut his eyes and swallowed hard. Steerpike slowly began tugging on the end of the stick, revealing the long rapier concealed within.
"I believe I asked you a question," Steerpike said in a quiet voice as he came closer, tapping the rapier against one palm. "I would like to be answered..."
The elf opened his eyes long enough to see the king coming toward him with the rapier, tapping it against his palm, the royal shoulders rising in sick, gleeful anticipation.
"I didn't see her leave- no one heard anything-"
"No one?" Steerpike asked, tilting his head in mock sympathy. "My daughter must be some kind of enchantress, then, to vanish without her personal guardsman knowing!"
Cold steel pressed against the elf's throat.
"I think," said Steerpike, "that then perhaps you should vanish too."
There was a gasp that turned into a gag, and then a thump, and two more elves stepped forward to retrieve the body.
"Thank you, gentlemen," Steerpike said idly as he cleaned off his sword. The two other elves nodded quickly and carried Princess Eva's personal guard away.
"What a waste," sighed the King.