The Chambers of the King

[Envin]

Here upon the topmost level of the White City, in the same building as the Citadel, are the private quarters of Aragorn and his wife, the Lady Arwen. They are simple rooms and not overlarge, having only a large area for sitting and entertaining, a room for private dining, a spacious bedroom, an office, and a small balcony with a garden overlooking the City. But it was comfortable, and upon retiring here in the evenings, the King and Queen would find solace and repose. And when the matters of the world became to demanding, or when time seemed to speed by too swiftly, Aragorn and Arwen would rest and talk to each other of happy things and simple things, and enjoy each other's company.

If it is late in the eve or if night blankets Gondor, then the High King may be found here. But be advised: the guards do not permit they with only light matters to enter, and like as not Aragorn will be grumpy when roused early from his sleep.

[Alcorad]

And so it was that from Barad-dur departed Alcorad in his new found malice and hate for the Lord Elessar. Born upon a fell behemoth of ancient days, he immerged from the veil of darkness cast over Mordor into the night sky. For some hours the creature flew, over the crossroads of which were once under Sauron's use, past Osgiliath, and at length he came finally to the City of Minas Tirith, the crown of Men. Alcorad's kanines passed over his lips as it was habit for this killing would be far more than some random choosing of a peasant of Edoras. This killing was meant to do away with the King of Gondor and dispel the rumors of his might.

In the sleeping city of Minas Tirith, still their were the watchful eyes of archers atop the walls and guardians of the gate who stayed up in their watch ere unto the coming of the son, always watching for intruders who may come out of the mist that so often settled upon the Pelennor in the cool evenings. Alcorad's 'Fell Beast' turned its gaze downwards toward the guards and with a swift tug back, it ascended higher into the air, even above the mountian peak of Mount Mindolluin. Silently the creature passed above Minas Tirith's fair citadel and descended swiftly as if not but another shifting shadow cast in the gaze of fair White Trees of Minas Tirith.

Alcorad's flying steed made its landing upon the spire of the citadel and wrapped its long tail around the rising tower. To those who would have seen, the darkness of the beast itself would not have been apparent in the bitter watches of the night but it would have seemed that rather the citadel's spires had been cleaved away in some places and that by some magic it ramained standing.

Alcorad himself leapt from the back of his beast down upon the arched alcoves of the citadel's entrance with feline grace and agility. His cold crimson eyes peered through the tall arched windows into the hall, dimly lit by the moon. His dark form descended through one of the windows causing the light streaming onto the floor to falter for a moment and resume its previous positiona s Alcorad passed beneath the alcoves at either side of the throne hall, similar to those at the entrance of the citadel. In the corner of one there was an arched wooden doorway with a small brass knob. Alcorad turned the knob gently and passed into the corridor, the door swiftly shut behind him without so much as a whisper. Silently his form passed down the corridor, the weary guards that patrolled it oblivious to his presence. Within his cloak that billowed back slightly in his swift, silent stride, he seemed to be naught more than a billowing shadow. A manifestation of the shadows cast by the elegant tapestries and drapery the trademarked the luxurious corridor.

In time Alcorad came to two large doors crafted from the fine wood of the Mallorns of Lorien. Alcorad gritted his teeth as his gaunt hands touched the fine wooden knob and slowly pressed the door slightly ajar, only so that he could slip through the opening. With a gentle press the door closed once again gardering the citadel guard's attention but for a moment however it seemed naught more than a trick to their minds and the guards dismissed it.

Silently Alcorad's cold crimson gaze turned upon the two sleeping forms within their beds. Even in sleep Aragorn and Arwen appeared to have statuesque grace and beauty. Twas a shame that it would be tarnished. With an eery silence, Alcorad stepped forth, a slow but steady smile dawning his lips. Aragorn was helpless to his touch and only centimeters away. He would have his victory and end the life of the King. Now would be shown the true might of the Dark Lord as Aragorn died without so much as a whimper and naught but the slow, sad realization of what had transpired as his spirit passed into Alcorad's immeasurable, gluttonous bowels.

[Envin]

All was still within the Chambers of the King, deep within Minas Tirith, as the Lord of Demons crept silently up to the unsuspecting King and Queen. If Alcorad resembled a slithering snake swiftly preparing to strike, then a moment later Aragorn resembled an o'possum waking from feigned sleep. For though they had been widely spread about in tales and in bars, the senses of the warrior king had been sharpened and heightened through his years in the wild, the greatest traveler and hunstman of the age. He had thought that he heard the snick of the door, and opened one eye a slit. He was about to close it, when the faint, faint sound of the breeze in the main room halted for a moment, as though something had passed through it. Never one to rest upon his laurels, he wisely kept both eyes open, his head turned to one side.

Suddenly, and without warning, a hideously calm and pale face hovered over him, with long treacherous fangs that seemed to steam with hate. Unsure of who this intruder might be, but certain nonetheless that he was not there to ask for the time, on a chance he turned his head as though in sleep, his eyes closed, and the Elendilmir upon his brow glinted the light of the crescent moon right into Alcorad's eyes. The Stone was bound about and enchanted with spells to bring about the downfall of evil, and the uplifting of the Line of Isildur, and especially the fall of Sauron, with incantations against all foul Ainur woven into it, for it was made when the memory of Morgoth was still strong. The pristine light of the Gondorian moon reflected gleaming into the demon's eyes, and by happy chance he blinked, momentarily unnerved by the intent of the Stone.

In that miniscule second, Aragorn raised up his elbow with his full strength, and landed a hit clean on Alcorad's chin. Momentarily stunned, Alcorad saw white for an instant, and Aragorn kicked Arwen off the bed, dove into the corner, and came up with Anduril. The sheath sang off of the blade as the moonlight caught it, the light shattering the dark of the room as Aragorn edged his way in between Arwen and his unnamed foe, so that she was able to climb out the window onto the balcony, and drop lightly onto the eaves, and then leap into the water of the deep fountain below.

Then Aragorn leapt onto the bed and took the high ground, nearly dancing on his feet with his sword held in a high guard.

"Declare thyself, spawn of corruption, for the look of undeath hast thou upon thy foul face. What wouldst thou in this City? I have little time to waste upon thy babblings; I thirst for the feel of my blade upon thy bone - be swift!"

[Alcorad]

Alcorad felt his chin and smiled wide to reveal the sinister appearance of his almost kanine teeth. His crimson eyes rested with contempt upon the King of Gondor and focused on the Elendilmir and hissed in a vampiric fashion for he had at one time spent much time around the beasts and had picked up on their behavior. With a swift gesture he removed his own blade from its sheeth, the runes upon its edge vibrant with a malevolent light. "Greetings, King of Gondor. I commend you for your swift response to what could have been your fate but I should say that despite your skills and cunning you shall not see the coming of day. Prepare to feel the bite of my blade Aragorn and cherish the feeling of your blood streaming from thine neck for it shall be the last thing that you shall feel before you pass into nothingness."

As Alcorad's harsh words poisoned the air and his hunger peeked, pale whisps of an eery white mist emitted from his mouth, the lost souls that he had consumed over many years crying out in misery as the supposed light of the world made his stand. "They are calling upon you Aragorn of Gondor for they do not wish for you to fight back for that only leads to despair and the harsh realization that is true death. But by all means, flaunt your blae at me for that would please me above all else. I enjoy it when my victim's squirm."

The silk drapery fluttered in the breeze as the Lord of Mordor stepped slowly from the shadows about the doorway towards Aragorn himself, and in the light of the crescent moon his gaunt face was illuminated and his peircing eyes intensified. "Do not run, do not hide. There is nothing you can do, but never give up. I wouldn't want to have my appetite spoiled." Alcorad's laugh was low at first but soon filled the room, his harsh voice choking out all other sounds so that not even the wind could make itself known.

[Envin]

With a flick of his wrist Aragorn slipped his knife from its sheath, pricked a light flesh wound in his neck, and returned the blade to its home. He dabbed his finger on the blood and tapped his tongue. "I have tasted mine own blood upon many a day, filth, but thou shalt not taste it upon this." Then he licked his arm, the sweat of sleep upon it, and spat the befouled blood from his mouth, mixed with the essence of humanity, into Alcorad's face. "Ah, but they inside of thy body and I are different. For when it came to a contest between thou and they, thou proved the stronger. Not so today. Come to me if thou wish to leave here with thy pride nearly intanct. I promise to only damage it a little"

[Alcorad]

Alcorad smirked, swiping the saliva from his face and flinging it onto the marble tile with a swift jerk of his hand. "Such petty gestures of insecurity, Aragorn. Your childish antics shall not save you e'en now for doom has knocked upon thine door and you have answered. Prepare to feel a fate more terribel than the cold confines of the void, Aragorn, for I am not a kind man nor am I just. I deal punishment to those I see fit and you have been deemed worthy of my steel. En garde, Aragorn." Alcorad smiled sharply, moving his blade about in a graceful movement and bringing about a cloak of shadows into the fair chambers of Gondor's Citadel. From the balcony could be seen the faint shimmer of light as Mount Doom spat forth mighty tongues of fire within the dark barrier cast around Mordor.

Alcorad's eyes were rested firmly upon Aragorn's, the cold crimson clashing with the green as gazes of sheer intensity were exchanged. A malevolent glare came into focus upon the Mordorian Lord's features and with the faint distortion of light and shadow, his blade found its mark upon Aragorn's thigh, searing into the flesh but only so deep as to draw blood. "My payment to your previous mockery of an assult." He smiled in contempt and spun about back on his heel, his eyes never breaking their tense focus for a moment. The twain had begun their clash of light and darkness. The Dark Lord and the Hope of Middle Earth were trapped in intense combat.

[Envin]

Aragorn was born of hardy stock, the proud and upright child of Silmarien that did not blench before the downturned face of darkness before the Black Gate, and neither now did he cast aside his eyes from the reckless hate before him. E'en through the clasp of shadow which Alcorad cast about the room, the pale moonlight glinted into Anduril's long blade, and as a storm were become the Chambers of the King, as a thundercloud upon a mountain appears to be pierced with lightning. For here now Alcorad struck, and there Aragorn parried with swift, glad strokes, and again even as quickly did Aragorn whirl his blade at his foe. And when Alcorad's blade sank into the soft flesh of Aragorn's leg - dastardly stroke to take advantage, striking where the King's sleeping-mail lay not - naught escaped his lips but an exhale of breath. Alcorad smiled, thinking his prey weakened for the kill, but Aragorn balanced upon his stabbed leg, and with the other foot pushed the hilt of the sword from his body. Then he feinted a great swing at Alcorad's knees, as though to take an eye for an eye, but at the last moment swung about, and brought the pommel of Anduril straight into Alcorad's face, cleanly into his left great canine that dripped with the honey of blood. The tooth cracked and Alcorad reeled, shocked. Aragorn leapt back and assumed his high guard again.

"As I said, thou shalt be eating no blood of mine this night. At least not with that tooth." He grinned.

[Alcorad]

Alcorad felt the moonlight stream in through the darkness and a glint entered his eye as in the distance, far away in Mordor, the Oldoliri shined. Its menacing light peirced rock and fume, into the very Citadel of Guard. Alcorad's blood soaked his face and a smile of mirth was upon him as he felt the warm liquid slowly fall down his face. A single ray of light moved upon him, a dark aura about it that gathered its power from the moon itself. While it was only the Crescent Moon, it was enough to bring his vile canines back into the play of things.

The ligh of Mount Doom filtered through the veil that stared so angrily upon Minas Tirith, and the blood bubbled and fell back into his throat, an insidious gurgling immerging from the deeps of his throat. He was smiling and slowly a tooth began to form once more, its white head poking just out of the flesh for a moment and then pushing through with such force that the vile blood of The Lord of Defile splattered into Aragorn's cool green eyes.

"Such impudence." Alcorad said, slowly turning his head back towards Aragorn and allowing a black tongue to slip over his lips and clean the blood from his face. "I shall be eating your blood with whichever tooth I wish." He smirked and held his blade aloft, his gaze penetrating Aragorn, searching for some weakness in the huntsman's stance. Aragorn was indeed a man worthy of Alcorad's steel in hand to hand combat for as many had said, Aragorn was 'The Hope of Middle Earth' one blessed so by the Valar that they would dare turn the tides of battle if it could be so and need be. All save one.

Alcorad turned about, jabbing forth into the Ranger's defensive stance and feeling his blade brought back to him in swift recoil but with the speed of and reflexes of a strong predator on the hunt, he turned about on his heel and delivered a horzontal cut down along Aragorn's arm, the thrill of the hunt alive in his eyes. He did not wish to kill this one yet, not while he was enjoying himself so much. This one was much more of a challenge than vagabond hermits and lowly serfs. And although Alcorad had killed many mercenaries and mages in his time, draining their souls for a higher power, this one brought his blade about like one posessed. As much as he hated to admit it, it was true, and only a blind man would say different.

[Envin]

Aragorn smiled out of the corner of his mouth, and inclined his head toward Alcorad. And he cleaned the blood from his face with a grin, wiping the filth upon his breeches. With naught but a simple glance about the room, he saw the darkness deepening through the open window, and with a smug smile he saw the delight the demon took in the dark about them. With a swift movement, he bent over and wrenched the light sheet from his bed, and with three quick flicks of his wrist, he used the sheet as a whip and tripped up the latches to the three windows which faced westward. The light of fair and silver Ilion spilt into the room, as from down on high good Mindolluin cast his gaze upon the battle and lent the King his aid with the light of the Moon. Aragorn looked Alcorad clean in the eye and brandished bright Anduril in the light of the moon, the whiteness and purity of the Scion of Telperion banishing the redness of Orodruin and the black of Alcorad's spirit from the room.

The demon snarled, and lunged for Aragorn, but filled with righteousness the good man did not waver, but staunchly gave as good as Alcorad, meeting the evil blade with his own Dwarven steel, and casting the strike of Alcorad aside. And glancing at the demon's feet he foresaw his spin, and with the grace and the agility of a cat, when the sword met his left arm, with speed unmatched he placed his weight upon the flat of the passing blade, and flipped over it as it passed beneath him. He landed sure and clean upon his feet and brought Anduril down from on high as though to cleave Alcorad, but stopped short and leapt back, darting in and angling the sword at the face of his foe, and then as swiftly leaping back again, remaining upon his guard.

[Alcorad]

"Lord Aragorn, the Moon is one of my most deadly weapons for it is that which I use in most of my sorceries." he smirked holding his blade up to the light, the incriptions upon it dancing and shifting, the sinister light cast in reflection upon good Anduril. Alcorad's blade was surely a match for the bright sword of Aragorn for it was forged of the darkness and not some mere iron or steel. His blade was a sinister entity in itself as such was Sauron's ring, however the sword was not something to corrupt or dominate with power but merely to cause pain and suffering to those who it opposed and cloud their mind with darkness and doubt. It was strange to Alcorad that Aragorn stood so steadfast in the presence of he and his sword.

Alcorad lifted his sword up into the air, the Moon becoming a dark tint as the evil that dwelled within Minas Tirith directed its malice upon Ilion and defiled her purity. Clouds settled in around the moon, the gaze of the fair thing darkened with sadness as it looked with sorrowful eyes upon the sinister creature that was preying upon the King of Gondor. If Aragorn fell there would be no hope. "Surrender yourself, Aragorn, and I shall deliver death quickly or if you want to continue this game of cat and mouse then do so. I am quite enjoying myself because the stakes are far higher for you than for me. You have locked yourself in your tomb."

[Envin]

Aragorn’s teeth grimly set into a straight row as Alcorad attempted to thieve the righteousness of fair Ilion, and with determination and nerves of utmost steel he turned about, and closed all four windows, so that all the light in the room was the beams of red and white light through the cracks in the shutters, and the gleam of Alcorad’s eyes. “Thou thoughtless fool, dost thou not know that my light hast shone even in the darkest of shadows? And that this blade has been tainted by the will of Sauron, whom thou knew, I daresay? Does that name pain thee? Didst thou not care for the true Lord of Mordor? Here is his essence – a part of him, captured in this blade that befouled him, and was befouled by him? I fear thee not, for I have cast my eyes up into the dark, and it holds to terror for me. I shall bring to thee the coming of the dawn!”



And he hurled himself at Alcorad, the steel of Anduril singing in the shadow, and the demon, snarling, was hard pressed to hold his guard before the onslaught of the King. Aragorn swung, he thrust and lunged at Alcorad’s heart, he cut at his face, and brought the bright essence of purity that was his sword down from on high to rend asunder the head of his foe. But just as his victory seemed assured, and Anduril flew downward to cleave Alcorad in twain, the demon threw forward his foot, and tripped up the High King. Aragorn reeled backward onto the bed. Anduril flew clanging from his hand, and his head hit the wall. Momentarily stunned, his neck lay completely open as his eyes shook and he attempted to regain himself.

[Alcorad]

Alcoard slowly approached and silence took control of the room. Naught but the ominous clicking of the heel of his boots against the hard stone floor of the citadel sounded in the room and in a low sinister laugh Alcorad spoke approaching Aragorn with a newfound lust for his blood shining in the shadows of his eyes. "Lord Aragorn you are once again mistaken. Sauron was not the shadow, nay! That fool was naught but a candle in the wind compared to the true darkness. But I must say this much, you are quite astute. To gather that I am the Lord of Mordor by simply doing battle with the sinister force of my blade. It would be a shame to end the life of the only one who really ever stood a chance but then again I never was one for playing games. It seems as though our little bout has come to an end Lord Aragorn. I assure you that you blade and your legacy shall not be forgotten when your head is placed upon my mantle with dear Anduril at its side. Yes I shall keep those as momentos in Barad-dur and always the people of Middle Earth shall quake when they come upon my gates in their final realization of the danger that I have wrought and as they do the head of their King shall be speared upon the staves of the Morannon and pale Anduril shall be rendered to mere shards dangling from my waste. Farewell, Lord Aragorn. Your name shall trouble me no longer."

With a malevolent smile, Alcorad brought his blade on high and prepared to bring it down upon Aragorn's skull and slice into the inward workings of his mind, allowing him to live for just a moment before the shadow consumed him and he could not bear to lose anymore blood. Arwen screamed as the blade descended, her face frozen with terror. She was paralyzed in fear, helpless to the events taking place before her. The daughter of Elrond Half-Elven would die next.

[Envin]

OK, like we talked about, something fantastic to end it. I'm going to assume you're standing on the bed since that's where I fell. I think you've posted that Alcorad can't really be hurt, so...

Time froze, and for a minute passed eternally slowly.

Aragorn's amazingly keen ears heard the swift whine of a blade descending through the air. He smelled the lust upon Alcorad's breath and tasted the shadow of his glance. And in the very nick of time his mind paid heed to his ears and roused him, but his sword was out of reach. Only bitter seconds had he before his life was taken like the flame of a candle, but he clenched his teeth, and lifting up both his feet he caught Alcorad's groin between his legs, and as the demon's weight was already shifting to strike he was off balance - the force of Aragorn's kick catapulted him forward and off the ground, and straight for the windows behind the bed.

Still the seconds ticked by.

Alcorad met the shutters and destroyed the simple wood, and with an interminable, sparkling shattering of glass he broke the windows, and still his mind spun with the surprise of Aragorn's strike. And he hung in the air for what seemed to be forever, but then as he began to fall he gasped.

For even as Aragorn lifted high the lower half of his body he kept himself lifting, and flipping from a prone position he landed upon his feet, spun about, catching his sword as he went, and leapt from the window even as Alcorad began to fall. Aragorn propelled himself down by kicking off the windowsill, and with his blade outsretched and everlasting death in his eyes and his face, he flew straight for Alcorad.

Was that a flicker of fear that flashed fast across the demon's face? Perhaps, but it was swiftly gone. But it was deserved, for now speeding toward him Aragorn comes, time dripping past, and now everything crashed full tilt again, the moments passing as they had never done, for with a rending crunch and a sickening sound, Anduril pierced at terrible speed clean through Alcorad's forehead, and ran him through even up to the hilts of the sword. A sharp intake of breath came from the demon's mouth, and as they slammed to the the ground, Aragorn withdrew his blade seconds before they hit the pavement, and managed to position himself atop Alcorad. The collision was sharp and sudden, and Aragorn bounced a few feet away, and cautiously raised his sword into a stance of defense again.

He peered at Alcorad? Surely he was not dead...

[Alcorad]

(lol i didnt want this to happen in the first battle but its fine... i guess it doesnt really matter anyway. lmao. good post.)

As Aragorn peered down panting wildly upon Alcorad's frame, the sky began to light with fire. An eery pale light emitted from the Dark Lord's mouth and intertwined around his body as a violet beem of fell magicks peirced the dense clouds of Mordor towards the White City itself. Alcorad's eyes were white and pale, the cold crimson having passed from his cold face upon the hard impact on the sixth level of Minas Tirith. A dazzling aray of Alcorad's sorceries were revealed in an instant as the dark forces of the world pulled the demon to his feet. Blood poured from the cut deep within his head and caked around his eyes and his mouth. He seemed to be in a daze but as it would seem that the Lord of Evil was finished a smile of amusement curled upon his lips allowing the blood to seep into his mouth and stain his pale white canines. "Well done, Aragorn Elessar. I must say that your senses overcame even fear but I am afraid that the game is over." The eery violet shade crawled up from Alcorad's feet and spiraled up his body around his neck and into the gash that reeched deem into the inner workings of his skull. The bone was pushing together and from within, Alcorad's throbbing cranium shook as the pressure of the dark magic took him, seeling the cut with a burst of light and darkness melded together in a symphony of light and darkness.

As Aragorn stepped back in astonishment Alcorad grinned and his gaunt head jerked foward and clutched the lord's neck tightly. The blade of defile was brought up to his throat and pressed slightly upon his skin. The lord took up pale Anduril and brought it about to slice into Alcorad's stomach but Alcorad was cautious now, unwilling to be caught by surprise unwillingly and with a swift move of his arm, the sinister blade was brought away from Aragorn's neck. Alcorad delt a swift strike with the hilt of the blade to Aragorn's hand and caused his grip to weaken as the fingers were pressed hard into each other. The Valar looked from fair Taniquetil in woe and Arien hastened her assent from the seas and slowly but surely the first light of day peeked over the fair mountains and shined upon Minas Tirith. Alcorad scowled and relinquished his grip, looking upon the sun in hatred of the valar. "You shall live another day, Lord Aragorn but we shall meet again and battle in the deeps of the world where no light may deliver you. You are keen of mind and truly worthy to lead your pathetic peoples even still I shall have my revenge."

Alcorad's Fell Beast dove down from the citadel, gliding above the fifth level of Minas Tirith. In a show of wild acrobatics, Alcorad lept from his position onto the roofs of the city and dove down into the shadows cast by the tall buildings and onto the back of his beast below. The creature screeched as light of the sun shone into its eyes and Alcorad slowly turned back towards Aragorn, his eyes having returned back to their original hue. With one nod in assurance of his return, he spurred his beast onward racing the light of the rising sun back within the veils of Mordor.

[Envin]

Aragorn sank to his knees once Alcorad was out of sight, his breathing coming in slow gasps, for e'en though tales were spun of his greatness from one corner of Middle-earth to the other, he was after all only a man, and never had he felt it more than now. The cuts and the gashes of the fight smarted heavily, and drops of blood twinkled onto the pavement. Wearily he willed himself to rise, and glancing at Anduril he saw that not a trace of blood, black or red, lay upon the blade. And the sword was hot. He shook his head.

Such reckless hate! Such reckless, rash initiative to conclude one's own business, giving little thought to the coming of the day. Yet still, in the hands of such as this, Mordor was perhaps a threat greater than she had ever been, and the watch upon the east must needs be redoubled. That demon had not departed willingly, and Aragorn knew that all that stood betwixt he and another bout with the shadow was time. He spat.

He sighed and walked slowly back through the street to this chambers, his greatsword slung across his shoulders, and collapsed upon the bed.