Post by Envin on Jul 9, 2005 10:46:23 GMT
The High King Aragorn came to these great library-halls often of an evening, there with his trusty pipe to study the ways of Gondor and of her ancient Kings. But this evening, it was for a much more sombre purpose which he came. Carrying a candle aloft, he found eventually the annal for which he searched: a lengthy recount of the War or Wrath.
The memory of the King had been teased by what he had lately heard, and thinking that he had seen or heard the name before he came to this dark place in the late evening ere he sojourned to bed. Turning the pages after he lit his pipe, he came soon enough to his goal. There was the name, but the annal was old and decrepit, and bloodstained in places, and all that he might read was goeth about near the ground to outstrip the wind, should the breeze walk in fours, and also a bite both stout and piercing awaits they who approach.
Aragorn slammed the book shut. He had seen enough to satisfy him, and he knew now that his heart had not gone astray, and that his plans would soon become ripe. All that was needed was patience, and long years in the wild had taught him just that.
He took his candle and left.
The memory of the King had been teased by what he had lately heard, and thinking that he had seen or heard the name before he came to this dark place in the late evening ere he sojourned to bed. Turning the pages after he lit his pipe, he came soon enough to his goal. There was the name, but the annal was old and decrepit, and bloodstained in places, and all that he might read was goeth about near the ground to outstrip the wind, should the breeze walk in fours, and also a bite both stout and piercing awaits they who approach.
Aragorn slammed the book shut. He had seen enough to satisfy him, and he knew now that his heart had not gone astray, and that his plans would soon become ripe. All that was needed was patience, and long years in the wild had taught him just that.
He took his candle and left.
