Mhyradin's Miscreants (and other characters)

[Uinen.]

Galia didn't know why she'd returned. The bridge rose and called her friend, but she had little optimism for those who awaited within. Again she felt that deep feeling of emptyness as the high pillars of the king's hall echoed the murmering of the nobles within. She bowed before her king but in truth felt little of the obligation that this gesture might suggest. He spoke of the recent summit with guarded words and of his gratitude to Valadriel, the emissary from Lothlorien and Galia listened and nodded dutifully and wished she was elsewhere. Somehow this place was emptier even than she remembered it and she couldn't help but to glance around as two people from her past seemed to claw at her heart.

"Sylvian wine, in a tankard." The barmaid frowned questioningly at Galia as she made her order, she was lounging back on her seat, with her feet up on the table. "You have tankards, yes?"
"Erm, yes miss." The barmaid flustered and poured the wine and Galia tipped her generously, just to see the look on her face. She was a pretty little thing with long flowing locks and that eager naive expression that Galia realised that she must have had when she had done this very same job all those years ago. As the maid deftly wound her way through the dancers Galia looked for the eyes that followed her, there were many polite glances and one who tracked her every movement who had clearly drunk a little too much. Crumpled deep in her pack there was the dress that Galia wore when she used to dance here, it was like some lost piece in the game of her life. A game she played here, a game she once lost. And so she sat in her worn leathers, a challenge to all that turned a sneering glance her way, just as it had been, only she didn't care any more. And she still had no idea why she'd returned.

"Surprise!" Shouted a slightly drunk Galia as she slipped from the shadows. In unison the butler and the cellkeeper fell from their chairs upending their flagons into their faces. It was better than she could have hoped and she collapsed to the ground in a fit of giggles.
"Galia, as I live and breath it is good to see you!" The cellkeeper wiped his face and joined in with the joke but the butler haughtly sniffed and retreived his upended chair.
"Oh, will you ever forgive me?" Galia laughed as she waved a bottle under his nose. It was snatched away and uncorked and three bottles later they were talking like the old friends they were. This felt more like home. Down in the tunnels those who had lost the favour of their master did what they liked and had little use for the protocols that defined life above. Here a bottle or two would never be missed and a sweet oblivion awaited those who knew in their hearts that their time in the halls of their king had passed.

Galia sat bolt upright as the scream echoed through the passages, as she did so a bottle fell to the floor and shattered. She'd fallen asleep with her face on the table and she was alone, the others had gone to tend to their duties and left her. The scream continued, the sheer terror in that voice cut through her hangover like an ice shard. She knew the voice, and she knew the tortured mind from which it issued and she now knew why Thranduil's hall had seemed so empty, and most of all, in that moment, she knew why she had returned.

[Uinen.]

"I hear he's awake again." The cellkeeper muttered to himself as he made his rounds. He started as he noticed Galia a little way down the corridor with a look of fury in her eyes.
"It seems he is, yes. Where is he?" She demanded.
"He's, erm... This way." He lead them down a couple of passages and pointed to the cell from which the screaming issued. From this angle they briefly saw a hand, bloodied, claw at the ground before being withdrawn and the bars rattled noisyly. Slowly, as if afraid of what she might see, Galia apporached the cell, there was a series of thuds as the occupant threw himself at the walls and upset the meagre bench that was his only comfort. Though his voice was hoarse and on the brink of breaking the screaming continued.
"Bod, stop it!" Galia shouted, to no avail. His bright clothes were ragged and he was covered in grazes and bruises. His ginger hair was matted to his head in places and his eyes were wild with terror and saw nothing. Galia's heart melted upon seeing her old friend in such a state, but she knew what to do with her sadness now. In one swift movement she turned on his cellkeeper, pinning him to the wall with a dagger at his throat. "Let him out!"
"B... But Galia I..."
"Let him out! You know he'll be fine if you let him out."
He gulped painfully and took what was probably the biggest gamble of his life. This was not the Galia he knew, this Galia was stronger, a lot stronger and the remote sadness that she had so often been prey to had grown into an anger that was frightening to behold. Would it take his life though? "You... Know I... Can't."
For long moments they remained locked there with Galia's face barely an inch from his and her scorn bearing into him and the incessant cacophony from the cell beating upon their ragged patience. Eventually Galia withdrew but her accusing eyes never left his. "What did he do?"
The cellkeeper rubbed his neck and took a deep breath. "He stole some jewellery."
"What do you mean he stole some jewellery? How can Bod steal some jewellery? He doesn't steal things he just picks them up because they're pretty and then forgets to put them back. He doesn't understand that they belong to others. How can you do this to him!" Galia ranted.
"Its, er, only a month, and its the law and... It wasn't my decision." He squeaked in mitigation.
Galia grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and stood him before the cell. Bod was now sitting on the floor with his hand over his mouth beating his forehead against the cell wall. A stream of blood and saliva seeped from between his fingers. Instinctively he knew that if there was screaming outside then they would forget him for a while. "Is he going to last a month?" Galia asked. "He'll be dead in a week if this carries on won't he?"
"But I..." Stammered the cellkeeper.
"Won't he? Look at him. Look at him!"
"I can't make these decisions Galia, you know this."
"Very well. Let me in." He hesitated. "Let me in, you can do that can't you? Lock me in as well if you like, I don't care."
Bod winced as the door creaked open and curled up in a ball with his hands over his head. Galia approached softly but the screaming started again the moment she layed a hand on him, she grabbed him from behind as he tried to leap up and pulled him back to the floor and held on while he flayed around madly. She pulled his ear close to her mouth and repeated; "Its Galli, its Galli."
Neither of them looked up as the keys squeaked in the lock and they were left alone. Bod's struggling was subsiding now that the pain he'd anticipated hadn't arrived, slowly he took up Galia's chant. "Its Galli, it's Galli." He turned and looked at her, confused, as if returning from a far off place. "Did the Greyman send you?"
"Yes." Galia lied. "The Greyman sent me. Its all going to be alright now." As Bod relaxed she took the opportunity to check her belt pouch, the one that contained her lockpicks.

[Uinen.]

In that time Thranduil was ever watchful of his borders and he took long counsels with wanderers within his realm. For though a dark presence had been driven from Dol Guldar he mistrusted the years that had passed since and the ease with which this was done. So when rumour reached the king's halls that a lone orc had passed one of the wards of his realm and was yet drawing nigh he bid his rangers stop the creature. But as it was alone he gave no order that it be slain for it seemed to pose no threat, but that it knew such things as no orc should ever know of the ways to his woodland realm. The King had been asked to be watchful for such a thing and to stay his hand.

Now the folk of the Greenwood would not suffer a filthy creature to be brought into the presence of their king and so it was washed and stripped of much of its tattered raiment. And so it was revealed that the orcish bearing of this creature was caused by deep wounds in his legs and he ever stooped and grovelled to his captors as if expecting some cruel blow. And although some inner compass had lead him back to his kin he knew them not for what they were.
He told Thraduil that he was Bod and it seemed to all that looked on that this was no name, but more likely some insult that he had learned to endure. And Bod made offerings to his king of such flowers and herbs that had brought him solace upon his way. He was yet quick of hand and folks marvelled that these things appeared as if from no-where. So Thraduil bid him take his gifts for they had shown that Bod was of good heart and meant no harm to his realm. One white rose he kept for it was fresh and offered in all faith and Thranduil entrusted Bod to his healers and asked that when this rose withered Bod should be returned to his hall that he may consider his place within his realm.

Bod rejoiced to watch the dancing in the festhalls and longed to join them but his healers forbid it. And so he laughed and joked and learned to love wine and the woodland folk loved him for he was quick to laugh and had many ways to make their woes seem as nothing. And they made for him a bright suit of reds and yellows and he laughed with joy upon receiving it and changed before them, giving no thought to his nakedness. And he sat with the musicians and seemed to know all that they sung in his heart, but as his voice was raised with theirs he wept for he knew not from whence the words came.

When Bod returned to the hall of his king, Thranduil gave back the withered rose to him and thanked him for the joy it had brought him in life. He bid him bury it in the forest that it may again serve it in death and that with it the hurt and tortured Bod may be layed to rest and find his rebirth among his people. Then Thranduil saw what role Bod had found for himself, bedecked as he was in his gay raiment and that in his health he could now jump and tumble and dance to the joy of all. But when Bod went to bury the rose he found he could not, for he saw in the hole a dark pit into which it broke his heart to put anything of beauty and so it is with him still.

All was well for the king's jester for many years and he grew and flourished among his kin but there came a day when he was accused of theft. In truth Bod had intended to return the necklace he had taken and to him this was little more than one of his jokes. Though crafty and quick of wit his memory had never fully returned and he was wont to forget should he be distracted. Such a moment was his downfall and once the accusation was proved Thranduil had no choice but to imprison him for his crime, for such was the law of the Greenwood. The sentence was light but many knew the effect it would have on Bod, for imprisonment held untold horrors for him.

[Uinen.]

Galia levered the top off the barrel and cast aside the rag that she'd tucked in to mark it from the rest. Bod's grubby face beamed up at her. It seemed strange that you could confine him in a barrel and have little problem in convincing him that it was just a fun game but if you put him in a cell then he would lose his senses with fear. She reached a hand to him and pulled. As he tried to stand his cramped legs buckled and the barrel, badly seated in the shallows of the river, toppled. They both went down with an almighty splash and found themselvs sitting waist deep in the water. Bod looked sheepishly at Galia, afraid that her temper might get the better of her. Galia looked at her bedraggled friend with his sorry expression and smiled. The smile broadened and she started to chuckle. Laughing, she moved her arm in a broad sweep and soaked Bod. Frantically he splashed back, laughing himself. So they cavorted there, splashing and laughing like two children until they both collapsed, weary but contented, on the bank.

"I love you Galli." Said Bod.
"I know." Said Galia and reflected on all the times she had hoped that such a simple phrase could mean as much, or as little as it did then. Coming as it did from her old friend, free of caviat, desire or Complication. The wagging tongues of the court had been a complication. The fact that Galia was not of noble birth, doubly so. For so long that little phrase had been little more than a trap for her, a false hope as arrangements were made for him to marry another. She sighed as she remembered. Always she hoped that they would never bond for she knew that once that happened all was lost, for in that bonding all would be revealed to his new love and there was no going back. When it eventually happened it only underlined for Galia how empty his claims of love had been. Bod would sometimes tell someone he loved them just to see them smile, or maybe to make them embarrassed so he could joke with them, but mostly he told people he loved them because he did. Galia leaned over and kissed his forehead. "I love you too, but we have to go."

"Where are we going?" The deep gloom of Mirkwood was behind them now and fresh skies revealed the Misty Mountains in all their glory. They had bathed naked and heedless in the ford of Carrock. For Galia the washing was an attempt to remove the guilt at having freed her friend in spite of the wish of her king. The open sky seemed to liberate her from the cloying closeness of the trees and the sad desperate memories that her return home had brought out. For Bod it was just fun, and somewhat overdue and as they stood ready for the next leg of their journey Galia chuckled and poked Bod in the ribs.
"We chance the dangers of the Greenwood and travel for weeks and only now it occurs to you to ask where we're going?"
"Well..." Bod seemed uncertain. "Its so big here and blue and white and..." He pondered for a moment. "And we've really gone somewhere now haven't we?"
Galia smiled. "That we have my friend. But we have much further to go. First Imladris, for a rest, and then on to Mithlond where I want you to meet a friend of mine. Unien lives in a tall tower, you'll love it.
"Is it higher than the white things?" Bod pointed upwards.
"The clouds? yes, some of them."
"And why are we going?"
"Because its the farthest place from the Greenwood I could think of where we'd be welcomed." Galia was aware that as a list of reasons this was rather short. She also had in her mind that Unien might be able to help Bod and maybe make some sense of the things he'd rambled on about a thousand times to her, things from his past, disjointed things, things that made him cry.

"Bod doesn't know this song." Galia clamped her hand over Bod's mouth just as he took a deep breath to sing along. The folk of Imladris were in full song as the pair walked the path down into the valley. Galia whispered in Bod's ear.
"If we go down then you'll want to sing and dance won't you?" Bod nodded. "And you'll want to wear your bright tunic and laugh and make others laugh as well?" Bod nodded and Galia sighed. "We can't, its too risky." She released her hand.
"But Bod wants to sing and dance and Bod doesn't see why not?" He looked at Galia imploringly.
"Because Elrond knows Thanduil and word may have come from the Greenwood."
Bod looked at her blankly. "Can Bod sing with the folks from the Greenwood as well?"
"We stay one night and we approach no nearer than this and no wine." Galia's heart dropped at the thought of no wine, it was one of the things she was looking forward to the most. Only now was it beginning to dawn on her how much trouble they were both in. She longed to speak to Alasse, but she had already decided that Bod had to be in Elostirion before she did anything else and didn't want her wise old friend talking her out of anything or berating her for not thinking things through.
Bod sulked all night. Luckily he was fairly quiet about it.

[DM_Kev]

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