Post by The Pilot on Nov 14, 2007 22:57:11 GMT -5
“HOUND!” Lauren shouted at the top of her lungs. Quite honestly, they needed to figure out a better way to meet up. This was ridiculous. “HOUND!” she called out at an impossibly louder volume than before. Seeing that her efforts yielded nothing, she decided to spare her throat the trouble and stop.
By then, she was almost to the far eastern end of the orchard, and probably to the edge of the property. Looking back, Lauren saw that the house was a good half mile away.
“Psst!” she heard, and jumped at the sound. “Hey!”
Off to her right and at the edge of the trees, some rocks broke out of the soil as the land sloped downward, creating a shallow gully. And in it knelt an Autobot.
Lauren stood at the edge and looked down at him before he rose up to his full height, putting him at eye level with Lauren. “You didn't hear me?” she said, voice hoarse from the shouting. “I've been looking for you since you ran off yesterday.”
“I did. Heard you all 8 times,” Hound said in a voice that sounded much like that of a male human's that was heavily messed with in an audio editing program. “I didn't want to come out in case that kid would see me, though. He seems to have an awfully inflated sense of self-importance?”
Lauren made to sit down on the rocks next to where Hound stood. “From the few days that I've known him, it does seem that way. Oh well... his dad's nice enough, and so are the rest of them,” she sighed. “And as for you, well-” she laughed here- “Maybe it was good that you didn't come out.”
“See?” he said and grinned in an odd, robotic way. “I'm right more often than people give me credit for. Oh, and Narthas wants me to tell you that they just left to investigate Lebennin.”
“Wait, what? How did you get in contact with Narthas?” she said, brows furrowed in confusion.
Hound laughed. “Radio, of course. We just have to be very careful when and how we use it, though, because Decepticons could be eavesdropping.”
The girl rubbed her chin and crossed her legs at the knee. “Good point.” She suddenly lit up with a thought, gesturing appropriately. “Wait, if you can send and receive radio signals, that means you have access to a whole spectrum of frequencies, right?” Hound nodded and cast her a curious look. “And the baddies must be communicating somehow, too, right? And there is only a limited amount of broadcast-able radio frequencies available because that's just how physics works, which means that you should be able to tap into Decepticon/Sith communications!”
Hound rested a metal, fully articulating hand on his hip and stroked his chin as though he had a metal, fully articulating beard. “Yes, I have tried here and there, but for some reason I haven't been able to pick up a single thing at all. Either they're using short-wave radio frequencies that are too weak to travel this far, or they've got some other advanced comm systems that we don't know anything about.”
“And that would be bad.”
“And it would be bad.”
“Unfortunately, that's probably the case, cause frankly, the entire situation is bad.”
“Well, I wouldn't put short waves past 'em,” said the Autobot, resting his hands on his waist and looking around. “and if there's one good thing that I can think of, it's that I got a chance to get off Cybertron. You've gotta admit, this planet's kind of pretty.”
Lauren paused for a moment before speaking. “Now, I don't understand that,” she said, and shifted her sitting position. “How is it that a robot like yourself, with absolutely no trace of any biological make-up whatsoever, can appreciate the beauty of the natural world just like any other carbon-based sentient organism?”
Hound looked her square in the eye. “Just in the same way that a 'carbon-based sentient organism' is able to appreciate the beauty of a mechanical or electronic thing.”
She nodded slowly. “Touche,” Lauren said, before bursting into laughter. “I've had an awful habit of naming my old computers, so I guess that only proves your point more.”
“Now that's just a little crazy,” he said, smiling. “Personal computers from your home world aren't even programed to have a personality!”
Lauren stuck her tongue out at him. “Yeah well, if I pretend that when I'm not around, my laptop transforms into a small, autonomous robotic organism, then that makes it all the easier, doesn't it.”
“Just when I think I understand you humans, you throw in a monkey wrench.” Hound threw his arms up in defeat.
The girl laughed. “Enough talk about being crazy for now, though. I came to let you know that I've got some errands to run in the city, and I'm going to be gone until the evening when I've got to take care of Elboron. You should stay here.”
He nodded. “Come meet me here when you come back,” said Hound. “Wanna make sure nothing happened to you on the way.”
“Deal.” She shot him a thumbs up. “If something happens, though I don't know why anything would, uhm, radio the others just to let them know what's going on, and come look for me. I'll give you permission to come out of hiding,” she grinned. “But only if I don't find you by sundown. Got it?”
“Affirmative.” He saluted her.
“Oh, and one more thing before I forget. Did Narthas, by any chance, leave with you directions so I know how to get to the Underground?”
“Ah! Yes he did. The elf said that this place was on the fifth level of the city, on the south-face. It... hugs up against the wall of the sixth level-”
“That is so vague it's not even funny. That city is like, a half mile in diameter.”
“Hey, did I say I was done?” Lauren rolled her eyes with a smile and let him continue. “He said that the building is marked by three Cyprus trees, a red door, and a banner with a symbol you will recognize as being completely displaced.”
She nodded, and hoped to the Valar that she could remember all of that. “What about the passwords?”
“He says they're relatively easy. Just names of people. Elendil, Anarion, Isildur, and Ostoher are all you need to know.”
“Oh, yeah that is easy. I know who the first three are already.”
“Good, good. Now get going or else you might not be back in time and I'll have to go look for you.”
“Fine, fine.”And with that, she climbed back over the rocks, to jog back to the house.
--
“Bergil!” she called out, though not as loud as she had done for her robotic companion, and it only took one shout to get his attention.
She heard him head down the stairs, and he appeared around the corner as she waited for him in the foyer. “Early riser?” he asked.
“Only today,” she replied. “Look, I must go back to the city today for errands. I should be back before sundown.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and ran his tongue over his teeth. “I suppose that might be alright,” he said with a sigh. “The Lord Faramir and Lady Eowyn will be departing for Osgiliath this afternoon, however. You'd best return as soon as you may, because of your duty to Elboron.”
“Yes, yes, I know. But these errands are well high in importance,” she snapped, then added: “For me.”
“Very well. I'll inform them both.”
“Thanks,” she said, and was headed for the door, but he grabbed her arm to stop her.
“Just one more thing,” he said, still holding onto her arm. She looked at him, and his brows were knitted in a display of suspicion. “There was a strange sound coming from your room last night. I walked past your door on my way to the washroom, and heard it. Would you care to tell me what it was?”
Dread fell through her, and her heartbeat hastened considerably. However, her terror must have been idiotically apparent, because his grip tightened.
“It sounded much like a waterfall, though quite some distance away, and mingled with a strange rhythm.”
So Bergil had heard her listening to her CD player late last night. She'd put it on at some ungodly hour to try and pass the time, and some time during that 78 minutes of music, Bergil had walked past her room to take a piss. And heard it. After a long silence, she decided to take the offensive route as playing defense could get her fucked over pretty quickly if she didn't play her cards right.
She shook his grip from her arm and shot him an offended look. “Do not blame me for your wild imagination, sir,” she spat. “I know you have not taken well to me, but your belligerence will earn you nothing but an enemy. And I have no qualms about playing such a role. Now if you excuse me, I have things I must tend to.”
With that, Lauren stepped out of the house and walked over to the stables before he had any chance to retort. Once there, and in the relative privacy of the building, she paused to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding, her breathing shallow, and her hands were shaking. He'd almost found her out.
It took a few minutes to compose herself, but she was soon saddling up her horse, who was eager to be free from the confines of her stall. Lauren was equally eager to be free from the confines of the house. And so in no time at all, she was heading down the hill towards the town of Emyn Arnen. However, instead of passing through it, she cut off the road and into the wilderness of Ithilien, still making her way northward. Open land passed beneath Miril's feet at an alarming rate, and in about an hour, they'd reached the outskirts of Minas Tirith's port district, Harlond. The river here was extremely wide, at least 200 feet across, and deep enough for ships of considerable size. It was there that she crossed the bridge and rode through the gate of the Rammas Echor.
It felt good to be back in the city once again for some reason. It felt familiar, though Peter Jackson's vision did it absolutely no justice at all (not to mention he completely left out all and any areas surrounding the tower itself), and it felt right, even though she'd only spent two nights there.
The market square was particularly busy that morning. From the looks of it, she could safely assume that it was a farmer's market or swap meet of sorts, whatever the Middle-earth equivalent to that sort of thing was.
“Elendil, Anarion, Isildur, Ostoher...” she chanted quietly to herself as she dismounted her horse. “Elendil, Anarion, Isildur, Ostoher...”
The Golden Thread was open, and she really hoped her clothes were about done. She pushed open the door, the bell jingled, and she was welcomed back in by the same Ellárin as before. The woman sailed over to her. “Welcome back, friend,” was the happy greeting. “I am very proud to say that your riding garb was finished not an hour ago. That is, of course, if it meets your standatds.”
Lauren was guided to the back, where a stack of very neatly folded clothing sat on a table, alongside a few others. Pieces of paper with names written on them were pinned to the top of each stack. Ellárin took the top of Lauren's clothes and held it up to her for inspection. The girl nodded in approval before the next garment, and the process was repeated.
“Beautiful,” she mumbled. “This is perfect! Thank you.”
“If that is all, then you may take your leave if you wish.”
She thought for a moment. “Actually, there is one more thing I would have of you.”
“Oh?”
“On the yoke... I would ask that you embellish it with the symbol of a fountain.”
“A fountain, you say?” The woman looked at her, thinking. “Yes, it can be done.”
Lauren smiled. “Oh, good. What if I return in a few hours?”
“Oh, of course. That would be simple. Do you have an image you would like for me to copy?”
“I could draw it for you. Do you have parchment on hand?”
Ellárin nodded and scuttled over to the back room. She reappeared a moment later with a scrap of paper and a piece of charcoal. Lauren took the implements and began to draw an incredibly stylized fountain motif, like the one she always imagined adorning the host of the Fountain of Gondolin. In all honesty, she was doing it more for Narthas than herself.
“There.”
“Oh, of course. Simple. I shall have this sent to the tanner right away.”
“Thank you, Ellárin.” The two of them bowed to each other and Lauren was out the door again, this time to head up the tiers of the massive city, slowly, one at a time. Elendil, Anarion, Isildur... Ostoher...
She rode for a few minutes before reaching the first gate. She approached it carefully, though it didn't, upon a technical assessment, look intimidating at all. In fact, the gate itself was flung wide open. She didn't completely understand why the gates had passwords, and in fact it seemed a little elitist for one of the kings to have built such things. What if a commoner wished to speak with someone in the Citadel, but didn't know the passwords? Well, she didn't exactly know who knew them and who didn't, but it still seemed like a strange measure for... privacy? Hell, she didn't know.
“Good day, milady,” a guard who had been casually conversing with two others beside the gate looked up at her as she approached. “Do not ask me why such traditions born out of caution are still in place during these happy days, but I must inquire still: do you know the password?”
Lauren grew hot in the face, hoping she didn't look stupid. “Elendil, sir, king of old.”
He grinned warmly and nodded his head, gesturing for her to continue. “Now you may be on your way.”
She just smiled back and rode on through the stone archway. She repeated the process thrice more, and Narthas was right: it did take her about half an hour to get to the fifth level. It was here that she dismounted Miril. The streets were far emptier than they were down below. The tiers were narrower too, and the houses were larger. Storefronts were few and far between here, and she wondered how in the hell she was going to find this Underground cafe.
Before Lauren knew it, she was facing south. Squeezing into an alley between two houses, she peered over the wall and down onto the city below. The first tier was about 900 feet below (ninety stories), and even farther than that was Harlond and the River. She saw the rise of Emyn Arnen in the distance, a little bald zit among the green of Ithilien. She sighed and turned away from the view.
“C'mon,” she muttered to the horse. “We've got to find this place.”
Three Cyprus trees in a row, a red door... Lauren looked at each building she passed very carefully, and she was eternally grateful to the powers-that-be that her meandering didn't illicit much in the way of stares from the few passerby on the street. Some time went by, and the girl had assessed quite a few homes. Many of them had Cyprus trees in the gardens, towering over whatever wall or gate that enclosed the area, and a few of them had red doors. But so far she had seen no banner emblazoned with a recognizably displaced symbol. The painstaking search went on for another ten minutes or so before something caught her eye; it was a white standard hanging from a pole on a very unassuming structure. The building had no yard, and it was a single story tall. The door, set in a strange and slightly unwelcoming part of the facade on the side, was painted a dull red. The standard, however, caused small little tremors of excitement to shoot through her brain. The piece of fabric was a dirty white, and tapered at the very bottom. Right in the middle of this pale field, however, was the symbol of the Rebel Alliance.
The circular crest, simple as it was, spoke volumes to her. If this was secretly a fan base (no pun intended) then Fen did an incredible job at making it look nondescript. She stood there for a few minutes, thinking, when the door opened a crack before swinging wide open. Two young men stepped out, shutting the door quickly behind them. They stopped when they saw her. Lauren laughed.
“It's alright, I'm a fan too.”
A visible wave of relief poured over them. “Sorry,” apologized the older of the two. He must have been in his early twenties, and the other closer to her age. She could clearly see that they were both hardcore geeks in a previous life. The older one was tall and lanky, with pale skin and little chin to be had. “We just gotta be cautious, you know? We don't want DERIF on our backs. And we don't want DERIF to find out about this place either.”
She nodded in vigorous agreement. “Oh, yeah, of course. So hey, I've never been here before. Is there anything I need to know? What's the drill.” She decided to close the distance between them so that they didn't have to talk so conspicuously.
“Oh, cool. It's a really sick setup AF's got. But like, just go to the back, where Sarah is, and just say you're a fan, and she'll let you in. It's not that complicated.”
Lauren grinned. “Okay, sweet. I'm Lauren by the way, or Fealai.” She awkwardly put out her hand.
The older of the two shook it. “Brian, or Brandir,” he said.
The other one took her hand. “Travis, or Torin.”
“Well, nice meeting you. I've got to get going, though: errands to run after this. Maybe I'll see you around?”
“Haha, sure. Seeya later, Lauren!” With that, the two sauntered off down the street. Lauren then turned to the task at hand. She tied off Miril to a pole, walked over to the red door, opened it, and peered inside.
The interior of the building was dark. Not completely, as there was still some light sifting through the dirty windows, but it was darker than it was outside. The space was filled with unassuming crates and barrels stacked up. There was a table off in the corner, where a group of girls sat, chatting loudly. So THIS was where all the fans were. Lauren walked past them, weaving through the obstacle of crates and barrels until she came to a door on the far end of the large room. She opened it, finding herself in a considerably smaller space. There were a few more boxes piled in the corner, but other than that, it was nearly empty. On the floor there was a great rug, woven with images of valiant knights fighting men on horseback. She recognized the mounted warriors as Easterlings, and it occurred to her that it was illustrating a battle against the Wainriders.
“Hello?” Lauren snapped back into reality when a young woman sitting in a chair addressed her. There was a PSP in her hands.
“Oh, right, sorry. Can I go in?”
Sarah stood up. “Sure thing.” She walked over to the edge of the rug and lifted up a corner, revealing a trap door. She gave a mighty pull on the metal ring, and the thing creaked open. Lauren peered down into the blackness, not quite sure if she wanted to see the club so badly anymore. Sarah must have noticed her hesitation. “Look, there's light after the first door.”
Lauren swallowed her fear with a nod, and descended down the steep steps into the dark. As soon as she stood on the ground again, Sarah shut the trap door above her head, leaving her in complete darkness. Her eyes went wide as they strained to see something other than the dark, swirling colors that infiltrate your eyes when they're unable to catch any sign of light. She took a few uneasy steps forward, which caused her to collide with a solid surface. A door? She groped around for a handle. Upon finding a recessed handle on the far left side, she discovered that it was a sliding door. Lauren pushed it off to the right, and to her great relief, she was greeted by the steady glow of florescent lighting. Electricity!
She closed the door behind her, and noticed that the walls were soft and textured. Sound baffles? Well, that would make sense, seeing as it WAS a club, therefore loud music on occasion was a must-have. She pushed aside the second door.
Quite frankly, Lauren nearly shit herself.
By then, she was almost to the far eastern end of the orchard, and probably to the edge of the property. Looking back, Lauren saw that the house was a good half mile away.
“Psst!” she heard, and jumped at the sound. “Hey!”
Off to her right and at the edge of the trees, some rocks broke out of the soil as the land sloped downward, creating a shallow gully. And in it knelt an Autobot.
Lauren stood at the edge and looked down at him before he rose up to his full height, putting him at eye level with Lauren. “You didn't hear me?” she said, voice hoarse from the shouting. “I've been looking for you since you ran off yesterday.”
“I did. Heard you all 8 times,” Hound said in a voice that sounded much like that of a male human's that was heavily messed with in an audio editing program. “I didn't want to come out in case that kid would see me, though. He seems to have an awfully inflated sense of self-importance?”
Lauren made to sit down on the rocks next to where Hound stood. “From the few days that I've known him, it does seem that way. Oh well... his dad's nice enough, and so are the rest of them,” she sighed. “And as for you, well-” she laughed here- “Maybe it was good that you didn't come out.”
“See?” he said and grinned in an odd, robotic way. “I'm right more often than people give me credit for. Oh, and Narthas wants me to tell you that they just left to investigate Lebennin.”
“Wait, what? How did you get in contact with Narthas?” she said, brows furrowed in confusion.
Hound laughed. “Radio, of course. We just have to be very careful when and how we use it, though, because Decepticons could be eavesdropping.”
The girl rubbed her chin and crossed her legs at the knee. “Good point.” She suddenly lit up with a thought, gesturing appropriately. “Wait, if you can send and receive radio signals, that means you have access to a whole spectrum of frequencies, right?” Hound nodded and cast her a curious look. “And the baddies must be communicating somehow, too, right? And there is only a limited amount of broadcast-able radio frequencies available because that's just how physics works, which means that you should be able to tap into Decepticon/Sith communications!”
Hound rested a metal, fully articulating hand on his hip and stroked his chin as though he had a metal, fully articulating beard. “Yes, I have tried here and there, but for some reason I haven't been able to pick up a single thing at all. Either they're using short-wave radio frequencies that are too weak to travel this far, or they've got some other advanced comm systems that we don't know anything about.”
“And that would be bad.”
“And it would be bad.”
“Unfortunately, that's probably the case, cause frankly, the entire situation is bad.”
“Well, I wouldn't put short waves past 'em,” said the Autobot, resting his hands on his waist and looking around. “and if there's one good thing that I can think of, it's that I got a chance to get off Cybertron. You've gotta admit, this planet's kind of pretty.”
Lauren paused for a moment before speaking. “Now, I don't understand that,” she said, and shifted her sitting position. “How is it that a robot like yourself, with absolutely no trace of any biological make-up whatsoever, can appreciate the beauty of the natural world just like any other carbon-based sentient organism?”
Hound looked her square in the eye. “Just in the same way that a 'carbon-based sentient organism' is able to appreciate the beauty of a mechanical or electronic thing.”
She nodded slowly. “Touche,” Lauren said, before bursting into laughter. “I've had an awful habit of naming my old computers, so I guess that only proves your point more.”
“Now that's just a little crazy,” he said, smiling. “Personal computers from your home world aren't even programed to have a personality!”
Lauren stuck her tongue out at him. “Yeah well, if I pretend that when I'm not around, my laptop transforms into a small, autonomous robotic organism, then that makes it all the easier, doesn't it.”
“Just when I think I understand you humans, you throw in a monkey wrench.” Hound threw his arms up in defeat.
The girl laughed. “Enough talk about being crazy for now, though. I came to let you know that I've got some errands to run in the city, and I'm going to be gone until the evening when I've got to take care of Elboron. You should stay here.”
He nodded. “Come meet me here when you come back,” said Hound. “Wanna make sure nothing happened to you on the way.”
“Deal.” She shot him a thumbs up. “If something happens, though I don't know why anything would, uhm, radio the others just to let them know what's going on, and come look for me. I'll give you permission to come out of hiding,” she grinned. “But only if I don't find you by sundown. Got it?”
“Affirmative.” He saluted her.
“Oh, and one more thing before I forget. Did Narthas, by any chance, leave with you directions so I know how to get to the Underground?”
“Ah! Yes he did. The elf said that this place was on the fifth level of the city, on the south-face. It... hugs up against the wall of the sixth level-”
“That is so vague it's not even funny. That city is like, a half mile in diameter.”
“Hey, did I say I was done?” Lauren rolled her eyes with a smile and let him continue. “He said that the building is marked by three Cyprus trees, a red door, and a banner with a symbol you will recognize as being completely displaced.”
She nodded, and hoped to the Valar that she could remember all of that. “What about the passwords?”
“He says they're relatively easy. Just names of people. Elendil, Anarion, Isildur, and Ostoher are all you need to know.”
“Oh, yeah that is easy. I know who the first three are already.”
“Good, good. Now get going or else you might not be back in time and I'll have to go look for you.”
“Fine, fine.”And with that, she climbed back over the rocks, to jog back to the house.
--
“Bergil!” she called out, though not as loud as she had done for her robotic companion, and it only took one shout to get his attention.
She heard him head down the stairs, and he appeared around the corner as she waited for him in the foyer. “Early riser?” he asked.
“Only today,” she replied. “Look, I must go back to the city today for errands. I should be back before sundown.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and ran his tongue over his teeth. “I suppose that might be alright,” he said with a sigh. “The Lord Faramir and Lady Eowyn will be departing for Osgiliath this afternoon, however. You'd best return as soon as you may, because of your duty to Elboron.”
“Yes, yes, I know. But these errands are well high in importance,” she snapped, then added: “For me.”
“Very well. I'll inform them both.”
“Thanks,” she said, and was headed for the door, but he grabbed her arm to stop her.
“Just one more thing,” he said, still holding onto her arm. She looked at him, and his brows were knitted in a display of suspicion. “There was a strange sound coming from your room last night. I walked past your door on my way to the washroom, and heard it. Would you care to tell me what it was?”
Dread fell through her, and her heartbeat hastened considerably. However, her terror must have been idiotically apparent, because his grip tightened.
“It sounded much like a waterfall, though quite some distance away, and mingled with a strange rhythm.”
So Bergil had heard her listening to her CD player late last night. She'd put it on at some ungodly hour to try and pass the time, and some time during that 78 minutes of music, Bergil had walked past her room to take a piss. And heard it. After a long silence, she decided to take the offensive route as playing defense could get her fucked over pretty quickly if she didn't play her cards right.
She shook his grip from her arm and shot him an offended look. “Do not blame me for your wild imagination, sir,” she spat. “I know you have not taken well to me, but your belligerence will earn you nothing but an enemy. And I have no qualms about playing such a role. Now if you excuse me, I have things I must tend to.”
With that, Lauren stepped out of the house and walked over to the stables before he had any chance to retort. Once there, and in the relative privacy of the building, she paused to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding, her breathing shallow, and her hands were shaking. He'd almost found her out.
It took a few minutes to compose herself, but she was soon saddling up her horse, who was eager to be free from the confines of her stall. Lauren was equally eager to be free from the confines of the house. And so in no time at all, she was heading down the hill towards the town of Emyn Arnen. However, instead of passing through it, she cut off the road and into the wilderness of Ithilien, still making her way northward. Open land passed beneath Miril's feet at an alarming rate, and in about an hour, they'd reached the outskirts of Minas Tirith's port district, Harlond. The river here was extremely wide, at least 200 feet across, and deep enough for ships of considerable size. It was there that she crossed the bridge and rode through the gate of the Rammas Echor.
It felt good to be back in the city once again for some reason. It felt familiar, though Peter Jackson's vision did it absolutely no justice at all (not to mention he completely left out all and any areas surrounding the tower itself), and it felt right, even though she'd only spent two nights there.
The market square was particularly busy that morning. From the looks of it, she could safely assume that it was a farmer's market or swap meet of sorts, whatever the Middle-earth equivalent to that sort of thing was.
“Elendil, Anarion, Isildur, Ostoher...” she chanted quietly to herself as she dismounted her horse. “Elendil, Anarion, Isildur, Ostoher...”
The Golden Thread was open, and she really hoped her clothes were about done. She pushed open the door, the bell jingled, and she was welcomed back in by the same Ellárin as before. The woman sailed over to her. “Welcome back, friend,” was the happy greeting. “I am very proud to say that your riding garb was finished not an hour ago. That is, of course, if it meets your standatds.”
Lauren was guided to the back, where a stack of very neatly folded clothing sat on a table, alongside a few others. Pieces of paper with names written on them were pinned to the top of each stack. Ellárin took the top of Lauren's clothes and held it up to her for inspection. The girl nodded in approval before the next garment, and the process was repeated.
“Beautiful,” she mumbled. “This is perfect! Thank you.”
“If that is all, then you may take your leave if you wish.”
She thought for a moment. “Actually, there is one more thing I would have of you.”
“Oh?”
“On the yoke... I would ask that you embellish it with the symbol of a fountain.”
“A fountain, you say?” The woman looked at her, thinking. “Yes, it can be done.”
Lauren smiled. “Oh, good. What if I return in a few hours?”
“Oh, of course. That would be simple. Do you have an image you would like for me to copy?”
“I could draw it for you. Do you have parchment on hand?”
Ellárin nodded and scuttled over to the back room. She reappeared a moment later with a scrap of paper and a piece of charcoal. Lauren took the implements and began to draw an incredibly stylized fountain motif, like the one she always imagined adorning the host of the Fountain of Gondolin. In all honesty, she was doing it more for Narthas than herself.
“There.”
“Oh, of course. Simple. I shall have this sent to the tanner right away.”
“Thank you, Ellárin.” The two of them bowed to each other and Lauren was out the door again, this time to head up the tiers of the massive city, slowly, one at a time. Elendil, Anarion, Isildur... Ostoher...
She rode for a few minutes before reaching the first gate. She approached it carefully, though it didn't, upon a technical assessment, look intimidating at all. In fact, the gate itself was flung wide open. She didn't completely understand why the gates had passwords, and in fact it seemed a little elitist for one of the kings to have built such things. What if a commoner wished to speak with someone in the Citadel, but didn't know the passwords? Well, she didn't exactly know who knew them and who didn't, but it still seemed like a strange measure for... privacy? Hell, she didn't know.
“Good day, milady,” a guard who had been casually conversing with two others beside the gate looked up at her as she approached. “Do not ask me why such traditions born out of caution are still in place during these happy days, but I must inquire still: do you know the password?”
Lauren grew hot in the face, hoping she didn't look stupid. “Elendil, sir, king of old.”
He grinned warmly and nodded his head, gesturing for her to continue. “Now you may be on your way.”
She just smiled back and rode on through the stone archway. She repeated the process thrice more, and Narthas was right: it did take her about half an hour to get to the fifth level. It was here that she dismounted Miril. The streets were far emptier than they were down below. The tiers were narrower too, and the houses were larger. Storefronts were few and far between here, and she wondered how in the hell she was going to find this Underground cafe.
Before Lauren knew it, she was facing south. Squeezing into an alley between two houses, she peered over the wall and down onto the city below. The first tier was about 900 feet below (ninety stories), and even farther than that was Harlond and the River. She saw the rise of Emyn Arnen in the distance, a little bald zit among the green of Ithilien. She sighed and turned away from the view.
“C'mon,” she muttered to the horse. “We've got to find this place.”
Three Cyprus trees in a row, a red door... Lauren looked at each building she passed very carefully, and she was eternally grateful to the powers-that-be that her meandering didn't illicit much in the way of stares from the few passerby on the street. Some time went by, and the girl had assessed quite a few homes. Many of them had Cyprus trees in the gardens, towering over whatever wall or gate that enclosed the area, and a few of them had red doors. But so far she had seen no banner emblazoned with a recognizably displaced symbol. The painstaking search went on for another ten minutes or so before something caught her eye; it was a white standard hanging from a pole on a very unassuming structure. The building had no yard, and it was a single story tall. The door, set in a strange and slightly unwelcoming part of the facade on the side, was painted a dull red. The standard, however, caused small little tremors of excitement to shoot through her brain. The piece of fabric was a dirty white, and tapered at the very bottom. Right in the middle of this pale field, however, was the symbol of the Rebel Alliance.
The circular crest, simple as it was, spoke volumes to her. If this was secretly a fan base (no pun intended) then Fen did an incredible job at making it look nondescript. She stood there for a few minutes, thinking, when the door opened a crack before swinging wide open. Two young men stepped out, shutting the door quickly behind them. They stopped when they saw her. Lauren laughed.
“It's alright, I'm a fan too.”
A visible wave of relief poured over them. “Sorry,” apologized the older of the two. He must have been in his early twenties, and the other closer to her age. She could clearly see that they were both hardcore geeks in a previous life. The older one was tall and lanky, with pale skin and little chin to be had. “We just gotta be cautious, you know? We don't want DERIF on our backs. And we don't want DERIF to find out about this place either.”
She nodded in vigorous agreement. “Oh, yeah, of course. So hey, I've never been here before. Is there anything I need to know? What's the drill.” She decided to close the distance between them so that they didn't have to talk so conspicuously.
“Oh, cool. It's a really sick setup AF's got. But like, just go to the back, where Sarah is, and just say you're a fan, and she'll let you in. It's not that complicated.”
Lauren grinned. “Okay, sweet. I'm Lauren by the way, or Fealai.” She awkwardly put out her hand.
The older of the two shook it. “Brian, or Brandir,” he said.
The other one took her hand. “Travis, or Torin.”
“Well, nice meeting you. I've got to get going, though: errands to run after this. Maybe I'll see you around?”
“Haha, sure. Seeya later, Lauren!” With that, the two sauntered off down the street. Lauren then turned to the task at hand. She tied off Miril to a pole, walked over to the red door, opened it, and peered inside.
The interior of the building was dark. Not completely, as there was still some light sifting through the dirty windows, but it was darker than it was outside. The space was filled with unassuming crates and barrels stacked up. There was a table off in the corner, where a group of girls sat, chatting loudly. So THIS was where all the fans were. Lauren walked past them, weaving through the obstacle of crates and barrels until she came to a door on the far end of the large room. She opened it, finding herself in a considerably smaller space. There were a few more boxes piled in the corner, but other than that, it was nearly empty. On the floor there was a great rug, woven with images of valiant knights fighting men on horseback. She recognized the mounted warriors as Easterlings, and it occurred to her that it was illustrating a battle against the Wainriders.
“Hello?” Lauren snapped back into reality when a young woman sitting in a chair addressed her. There was a PSP in her hands.
“Oh, right, sorry. Can I go in?”
Sarah stood up. “Sure thing.” She walked over to the edge of the rug and lifted up a corner, revealing a trap door. She gave a mighty pull on the metal ring, and the thing creaked open. Lauren peered down into the blackness, not quite sure if she wanted to see the club so badly anymore. Sarah must have noticed her hesitation. “Look, there's light after the first door.”
Lauren swallowed her fear with a nod, and descended down the steep steps into the dark. As soon as she stood on the ground again, Sarah shut the trap door above her head, leaving her in complete darkness. Her eyes went wide as they strained to see something other than the dark, swirling colors that infiltrate your eyes when they're unable to catch any sign of light. She took a few uneasy steps forward, which caused her to collide with a solid surface. A door? She groped around for a handle. Upon finding a recessed handle on the far left side, she discovered that it was a sliding door. Lauren pushed it off to the right, and to her great relief, she was greeted by the steady glow of florescent lighting. Electricity!
She closed the door behind her, and noticed that the walls were soft and textured. Sound baffles? Well, that would make sense, seeing as it WAS a club, therefore loud music on occasion was a must-have. She pushed aside the second door.
Quite frankly, Lauren nearly shit herself.
