#sil is vaguely a month or so after black book

[aurore-parle-de-ses-idees]

oc-tober 2021, day 5: throne with @oc-growth-and-development

i had too many ideas for this one so they got all smushed together into one lol

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In the City of the Moon half-retaken they walk with little fear. She knows these streets; it feels like merely decades that last she walked here. The bound-spirit watchers have been shattered and the doors to the old halls stand open for any who wish to enter.

The ancient throne room floor is stained dark and dull where once it had reflected pale lanterns in brilliant patterns, but the throne itself has been well-kept. She stands long before it, lost in thought.

“Sileär,” Omaruin calls. It sounds as if it comes from a great distance. She takes a deep breath. Not all the foulness has been cleansed from the city, and here it lingers thick at the back of her throat.

“I meant to see the Naldassar,” she says. “But perhaps another day. There is still much to be done here.” She turns her back on the throne that had once belonged to a friend.

---

In the City of the Kings rebuilt they walk with hard-earned joy. She smiles with fierce pride for what her friends have done, everything they have remade. The lake has retreated, the paving stones have been relaid, the gardens flower. You might hardly recognize it.

She knows that street, though, and the ward to which it leads, the tower above. Barad Tironn. The hall of the Annúminas-stone. That those last days with Laerdan are long past does not ease the tension at the back of her neck nor the memory of the heavy stone clutched tight to her chest. 

She slows, and does not answer the others’ questions. They would not understand it, though she would have their sympathy. Only Calenglad was there when she returned, running, and he too has been gone for many years now.

“Esterín, we will be late!” She shakes herself and hurries on, after her friends to present themselves in the brilliance of the restored throne room in Ost Elendil above the deep waters.

---

In the Golden Hall she stands a shift at guard. It is terribly boring, especially too far from the throne to overhear anything at all. You earned this, a voice irritatingly like her brother’s says. She did, but that hardly means she has to enjoy it. At least she will be spared Déorna’s not-quite-lecture on the whole sorry situation. Brigild’s will be harder to avoid, though. Maybe if she can find Burnoth and allow herself to get sidetracked helping him and his men for the evening…

“Isena, stand straight!” She almost fumbles her spear and pulls herself upright.

“I am!”

---

In Rushdurinul they have driven out the remnants of Mazog’s Pûlpum, but the scholars and stonecarvers are not left without guards. The ancient throne of Durin is still a sight, and steals his breath even after many trips along Zurr-thurkh to escort those who know better than he what all the adornments and runes mean.

Loose pebbles shiver against the ground over the low voices of the dwarves at the foot of the throne. The shadows stir, reaching from the heights of the cavern where torches alone will not reach and from behind great falls of stone. Are those… footsteps? Drums? He has never seen a troll big enough to make that sound.

“Glainyn, what is it?”

“I think we should leave.” Something crashes in the depths of the first delvings of Khazad-dûm and even Durin’s throne-room shudders. “Now! Run!”

#oc-tober #lotro #sil is vaguely a month or so after black book #est and isena are a few years into the fourth age #and glainyn is during the dwarf allegiance quests #having a great time with these this year :D #est verse stuff #my stories #est #sil & om #i&i #glainyn #hmm gotta separate those into individual character tags too #i'll get to that. someday #isena #silear seasheen #the dwarf politics brigade