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Old 10-13-2003, 04:44 PM   #93
Imladris
Tears of the Phoenix
 
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Tolkien

Maethor

Maethor disappeared easily in the shadows and began to make his way to the eastern gate of Bree. “So much time wasted upon the reluctant hobbit,” he said, not bitterly. “Not that I can blame him in a small way,” he continued to muse as his eyes flicked to the faces in the meager crowd, seeking for Dulrain, “he was probably frightened like a rabbit encircled by wolves, except that‘s probably too strong of an analogy. Too bad he’s a thief and a scoundrel, and I really shouldn’t feel sorry for him. Stupid blighter, trying to keep the elf hidden.” Maethor took secret pride in the thought that if he were a scoundrel and up to no good, he would have the sense to turn Naiore over to the rangers who sought to bring her to justice -- he hoped. But one never knew the twisted mind of a ruffian.

Toby had mentioned Kaldir, and that rather surprised him, though Maethor knew it really shouldn’t, considering that the former ranger was now a bounty hunter. He wondered what Kaldir would do if he found the woman who had caused him so much pain: kill her outright, or bring her to justice?

A putrid smell made him realize that he had managed to bring himself where things were in disrepair and the buildings had a slightly disreputable air. The roofs sagged, the wood was rotten, the windows were smashed, and fragments of glass littered the streets. A dog whimpered and limped towards Maethor, his brown eyes filled with fear and endured pain. Crouching over the animal, Maethor stroked his bony head and saw that his fur was crawling with lice busily scurrying about their parasital business. Running his hand down the leg, where scars of former battles laid, Maethor saw that a piece of glass was imbedded in the paw; gently he pulled it out, crooning words, both in Elvish and in the Common Tongue, softly as he bound it with a strip torn from his black cloak. He rummaged in his pockets and regretfully saw that he had no meat to give the poor cur, who now fondled eagerly at his feet before darting off into the darkness of a nearby, dreary alley.

Guiltily, Maethor continued swiftly onwards, impatient and frustrated that he could not find Dulrain. It was as if he, too, had disappeared from the village. A cold shudder passed through him as a thought, dark with fear and horror, slipped unbidden to his mind: maybe he had found Naiore and she had slain him, just as she had done to so many others? Quickening his pace and sick at heart, Maethor continued to search, determined to find him, though his fearful imaginings played and toyed with him.
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Last edited by piosenniel; 03-12-2004 at 03:45 PM.
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