TARGET PRACTICE
Afternoon of September 30, 3019
Frodo portrayed by Hobbitness
Elfhild and Elffled portrayed by Eowyn
Narrator and Angmar portrayed by Wraith
AN AFTERNOON IN MINAS MORGUL
Narrator: *In the early afternoon of September 30, Frodo's second
day at Minas Morgul, he had been taken back to his room by one
of the black-robed servants of the tower, and was later given
his midday meal.*
Narrator: *Now Frodo is all alone. All of his friends had been
taken away from him and he did not know the fate of any of them,
save Elfhild and Elffled, who are now "guests" of the
Morgul Lord.*
Narrator: *All alone, in isolation, but not totally alone - for
Frodo had long since learned that there were always the inevitable
guards waiting just outside the doors of his room.*
Narrator: *The afternoon hours pass slowly. There is a small barred
window in his room, from which he could view the surrounding land
by putting the stool by his bed under the window and climbing
up to the window.*
Narrator: *From the window, he could look down far into the courtyard
below. He noted that Khamul and Madurz had left, while Angmar
and the two Rohirrim girls were still down at the fountain.*
Frodo: *This room where he is confined seems a mixture of his
two phases of captivity. He is alone and imprisoned, only able
to look through the bars on the window...*
Frodo: *...yet the room is luxurious, like the false "honor"
of his time in Nurn*
Frodo: *He stands on tiptoe on the stool and grips the bars, staring
down at the girls with Angmar*
Frodo: *He is struck with a feeling of utter helplessness, which
sends him into a cycle of anger and despair*
Frodo: *What is happening to the other slaves? And will Elfhild
and Elffled ever regain their right minds? Will they ever see
what Angmar truly is?*
Frodo: *Thinking about Angmar makes his shoulder worse--it has
been bad since their arrival in Minas Morgul, but now Frodo gasps
in pain, then resolves to clear his mind of all vexing thoughts*
Narrator: *At the sight of Angmar gently cupping his leather-gloved
hand under Elfhild's chin as she looks up at him adoringly, Frodo
feels such disgust that he jumps off the stool, then sits back
on it, bending forward, leaning on his elbows with his chin in
his hands.*
Frodo: *He shakes with rage, closing his eyes tightly and trying
not to let himself be angry at the girls....they cannot help it,
he reminds himself...but he feels betrayed nonetheless*
Elfhild: *elfhild smiles softly at angmar, her blue eyes twinkling
in the light of the glowing city*
Angmar: Elfhild.... your eyes.... like blue asters in autumn....
Angmar: Your hair *his voice a soft hiss* is like the sun upon
a field of wheat ripening in the wind
Elfhild: *her eyelids flutter and she sighs softly*
Angmar: *he releases her face, steps away from her* Come now,
fair ones.... we go inside....
Angmar: Follow me *he says as he turns from them and motions with
his hand for them to follow*
Angmar: I have..... things.... to show you.... in the tower....
Elfhild: *the twin sisters follow angmar as he walks towards the
tower*
Angmar: *The doors of the tower open for them and they soon are
inside. The doors close behind them*
***
TARGET PRACTICE
By Wraith
The afternoon of September 30 passes slowly for Aldir, Ceolwulf
and Vardamir in the set of rooms that they have been forced to
share together.
"I can say this," Vardamir says as he lolls on one of
the beds in the room, "Judging by the softness of this matress,
it has been firmly stuffed by goosefeathers and is fit for a foreign
dignitary," and he chuckles.
"But isn't that what we are?" he laughs.
Aldir, who has been patiently pacing in the room silently for
hours, looks over to him and says, "Your humor, my friend,
is sorely inappropriate for this place!"
ardamir puts his arms behind his head and looks at the ceiling,
a grin of amusement appearing on his face. "If we must languish
in a den of vipers, we may as well do it with humor, for it is
better to die laughing than it is to die crying."
"Vardamir, your boundless wit and good cheer has ever been
an amazement to me, but now is not the time to display it!"
Aldir exclaims. "Yesterday, they took Lilandra from me, and
I have not seen her since! A cold hand of icy dread grips my heart
when I think what they might be doing to her."
"And Elfhild and Elffled... what of them?" asks Ceolwulf.
"I have not seen them since yesterday!"
"There is not one thing we can do about it, not yet, not
now anyway. We might as well be held in the underground vastness
of Angband in the Elder Days. There was no escape from there,
and there is no escape from here," Vardamir says. From the
bed, he looks towards them. "...Or did you propose doing
something about it, friends Aldir and Ceolwulf? The Valar will
punish them in their own time."
"And that time cannot come soon enough for me," exclaims
Ceolwulf as he suddenly takes his dagger that he had been balancing
in his hand and hurls it through a tapestry of the Great Eye,
centering perfectly in the iris.
From the bed comes a merry laugh as Vardamir sees the dagger hit
its target. He rolls over and out of the bed quickly. He walks
to the tapestry. "A perfect hit, my friend!" he says
as he takes the dagger from the wall, "and a noble sport
you have developed. Perhaps I will join you in it," he says
as he walks towards Ceolwulf.
"Take it, the next throw is yours, my friend," says
Ceolwulf.
Outside their suite, the guards overhear their talking and soon
the door is unlocked and opened. "What do you think you are
doing, mate?" a long-armed Morgul orc challenges.
"Putting my blade to a good use."
"Well, we will see about that," says another guard as
he charges into the room. "Give me that dagger mate, don't
make it 'ard on yourself."
"No, mate, come and get it," Ceolwulf says as he goes
into a crouching position, the dagger held in his right hand.
"Don't do something stupid mate, we might 'ave to 'urt you,
if you do, and we don't want to do that to the great Shakh's slave
man."
The guard rushes at Ceolwulf, but the nimble Vardamir moves too
quickly and grabs the orc by the neck from behind, while Aldir
lunges for the other guard. "Elp! 'Elp!" the orcs cry
and more guards pour into the room.
"Slap 'em in irons, my lads!" the orc gurgles as Vardamir
increases the pressure on his neck, then kicks him in the back
of the knees, dropping him to the floor.
The room is soon a mass of milling, fighting orcs and men, but
no matter how valiantly they struggle, Ceolwulf, Aldir and Vardamir
are soon pinned to the floor by the sheer weight of their mass.
As they are dragged to their feet, the three struggle, hitting
and kicking at the guards. The one who was throttled by Vardamir
shouts, "E almost killed me, lads! Did you get the straw'ead's
knife? 'E's a wicked one, ain't 'e?"
"Aye, that 'e is, Pizdur, that 'e is," says another
orc. "But 'e won't be so wicked once we put 'im in the lockup.
'E'll find the cool chill of it will take a lot from 'is 'ot'eadedness!"
The three men are quickly dragged to one of the deepest dungeons
of Minas Morgul and their arms and legs thrust into chains attached
to the wall.
"Mates," Vardamir says, mimicking the orcs, "I'm
gettin' so I like the 'ospitality of these folk. They surely do
make a grand reception, don't they?" he says as he begins
to sing a merry Elvish tune.
"Vardamir," Aldir says and shakes his head, "Why
do you have to be so impossibly happy all the time? I think truly
that you are mad."
"A little madness sometimes helps in the worst of situations,"
replies Vardamir.
Ceolwulf, one of his eyes beginning to swell, says, "It's
certain that a dagger won't."
A few hours pass and the three men become chilled to the bone
at the dank cold that penetrates the cell. "A truly fair
place to spend a hot summer afternoon," Vardamir says through
chattering teeth. "Just the thing to take away the steaming
heat."
The cell door creaks open slowly as though moaning in surprise
at being opened.
"Mates, I 'ave good news for you," says the Pizdur,
who is flanked by two other orcs.
"Wot, mate?" asks Vardamir in a mocking voice. "You
think we're gettin' too 'ot in 'ere?"
"That was not nice, laddy," says the orc, showing his
fangs, some broken and others decaying. "If you weren't with
'im that's so 'igh up, I would break your bloody little neck with
me own 'ands." The orc goes on. "I 'ave a proposal for
you, and this comes from right on 'Igh 'Imself, the 'Ighest you
can get 'ere. The Morgul Lord 'imself."
"By what do we owe this 'igh 'onor," mimics Vardamir.
One of the orcs beside the Pizdur growls. "Shut your lip,
mate, if you don't want it to be removed real quick."
"'Ush now," the Pizdur retorts. "'Is time will
come. It's waitin' for 'im down some lonely valley. 'E'll get
'is, and that's a fact!
"If you three swear upon your 'onor that you will not disturb
the peace, nor profain anymore tapestries and such or do anything
else equally foolish, the Morgul Lord 'Imself says 'E will show
you mercy and let you return to your rooms. Wot say you, mates?"
the orc says, his upper lip curling back in derision. "Swear
now, all three of you, in 'is turn, startin' with the strawhead,
and goin' to you, Elfwight, and then you, the tall dark haired
one."
"All 'ail 'Is everlastin' mercy," Vardamir mocks the
orc, who becomes angry and shakes his fist at Vardamir. The orc
steps towards him, fangs bared, his hand drawn back.
"Vardamir! For once be quiet if you can be!" Aldir says.
"Shall we accept this 'generous offer' my two friends?"
"Yes," says Ceolwulf slowly with resignation. "There
is nothing else we can do."
"Wot mates? There certainly is. We can stay here and pass
the rest of the afternoon with these bright lads," Vardamir
says and grins wickedly.
"I so pledge what you have asked," says Ceolwulf to
the orc.
"Then I suppose I must do so too," says Vardamir.
"Aye, and I also pledge," says Aldir.
They are soon unchained, escorted under heavily armed guard back
to their room, then released and once again locked inside their
chamber.
"Ceolwulf," says Vardamir as he goes to the table in
the room, uncorks a bottle of wine and fills three goblets for
them, "Whether the Black Captain honors his promise of mercy
or not, there is one thing I can say about him: he provides his
'guests' with excellent wine!"