The Thorn Crown

Chapter I: Return

Darrion Freeman

Finally, the great tree of Godsgrace lied ahead, sundering the morning clouds. The sun crept through its luscious green leaves bathing Fingolfolin within its light. The tree curved down next to the keep with the same namesake, and the keep stretched down towards the teal topped high areas, the dirtied and animalistic common area and all the way down to the docks.

'Land Ho!' A sailor cried.

The Golden wind glided smoothly upon the turquoise foaming sea. Somehow. Even with the millions of pieces of gold worth of plundered loot held within its hull, it still stood strong. Rays of sunshine from the heavens beamed down and through to the ocean bed. Green seaweed graced the underside of the ship. The fish swam away from its glorious presence. Dirtied sails, bleached by the sun, hung from the mast, bellowing proudly through the sky. The battered and ruined wood, encasing The Golden Winds precious contents, had seen oh so much wear, from scratch marks to nearly whole chunks of the ship ruined. Yet she still stood strong. The ship docked.

A crowd of curious commoners stood around the ship awaiting in awe for its captain. A group of armoured men stepped onto The Golden Wind, men clad in shining gold plate and violet cloaks hung round their necks and upon their helms were laurel leafs circlets, brimming and teeming with life. They appeared to surround a woman in white robes, guarding her. Upon her head, was a wooden circlet with thorns encircling and spiralling around it. The woman wandered onto the ship, her robes flowing behind her, trailing like bright white snow alongside her slightly curled brown hair flowing through the morning sea breeze. Despite the abnormality of her parents' relationship, Queen Eleanor's' face seemed nice. Not too disfigured, unlike her sister, Martha, who definitely took the brunt of their parents' incestuous relationship.

'Greeting sailors. You must be tired from your great voyage across the world. Where is the Captain of your ship?'

A man in rugged, tattered leather with a dirtied young face walked down the steps from the wheel. His dark brown greased hair was long; so long, he had to tie it up. His brown eyes became the Queens intrigue, as were her turquoise eyes to his. Despite the dirt and grime, he was still quite handsome, catching many eyes of the women awaiting him; however, his eyes lied with the Queen.

'Here.' said Captain Darrion. He bowed his head.

'Hello Darrion' she said. 'I see your three years across the world have not been so kind.' She jested.

'You look taller princess.' He jested back.

'Queen now.' She remarked, smiling.

'Ah sorry... Your Majesty.'

The Queen regathered herself and spoke formally again to the rest of the sailors. 'You shall be rewarded for your plundering and your voyage across the world. You shall be taken by carriage to the keep. In which, you will find fresh food, drink, clothes and a nice warm bath.' She turned to Darrion specifically. 'When the clock strikes eight, I bid you to dine with me and the leaders of the Privy Council; I wish to hear of your travels.'

'Thank you Your Majesty' Darrion replied. 'Um, what do we do with our loot?

'Ah, well do you wish to split it with you and the rest of your men?'

'There's more than enough for nineteen of us. I would like to give three million gold's worth to the crown!' He bellowed proudly. Gasps and mutters came from the crowd of people and the crew.

'I thank you for your generous offer.' She paused. 'Wait how much did you steal?'

'Eight million gold worth in goods.' He said Smirking. The Queen's eyebrows raised. She clasped her hand to her cheek. The crew chattered amongst themselves and laughed.

'Well you certainly deserve it. I must thank you once again, for completing this mission, overdoing it even.' She said bowing her head. 'Please come this way.'

The Queensmen, made way for Darrion while other men helped the crew and their loot. Upon closer inspection, they had the great tree marked upon their plate and their silky violet cloaks wafted in the passing sea breeze. Their laurel leafs, mounted upon their helms had beautiful luscious leaves of the Godsgrace sprouting off them. As they made way for Darrion, in orderly fashion, they stamped their spears on the ground in unison. The path led to dark mahogany carts with fine expressive woodcarvings of the great tree of House Fingol's crest. The royal house of the Kings, and now Queens, of the west. Lacing the cart was freshly polished gold. Inside were smooth silk curtains and soft seats. However, under the carts frame, Darrion felt quite cramped. The cart moved along, beginning its journey to the great keep.

The slums of the poorest area passed by, in which ram shackled houses lined the streets. They were barely held together, without brick or even stone, with bare mud as their flooring. Darrion reminisced upon his childhood, familiarity of these streets struck him but his nostalgia did not bring him happiness. Houses of brick and stone became more and more populated and covered the largest portion of Fingolfolin. After that were the high areas of Lords and Ladies. Tall houses, built from a white material with magnificently aged copper roofing surrounded Darrion. The blue stood out and contrasted the rest of the districts. Especially from far away. Tonally it fit more with the nature that populated the nobles' district. Vines and flowers hung from the houses balconies stroking the tops of the carts. Finally, was the great keep of Godsgrace, which had the same namesake of the tree it lied next to, was also white with copper tops, and had the most life teeming from its windows.

Next to the keep and upon the great hill was the tree itself. Dark rich wood spiralled from its deeply sunken roots. Even though it had breathed a thousand springs and suffered a thousand winters, the tree still stood tall and its roots still dug deep. The tree grasped and reached for the heavens. Or rather, the heavens reached down upon them. To give to the puny mortals down below. Yes. God reached down his arm from the sky and graced this piece of land giving mere mortals an inkling of his high holiness. Breathing life upon the body of King George I. The First King.

At least that's what the priests say from their holy texts but the thought of this became more and more believable the closer Darrion got to the tree. Monks surrounded the tree, carrying totems, books and incense, with gold necklaces, bracelets, holy trinkets and elements of nature most of which hung all over their Leaf green robes. They sung the ballads of King George Fingol I. The man who lied beneath the very tree. The First King. The monks spiralled around the great tree in perfect synchronisation, every step every single movement, kept in time and in fashion. It was an eerie choir, dancing along the fresh rejuvenating and even enlightening aura, surrounding Godsgrace. Yes indeed, an eerie choir, of which beautiful voices sung of beautiful times.

The carts encircled the tree and stopped. Servants came rushing out and opened the doors. Darrion crawled out of his cart, clutching at his aching back. The queen had two of her Queensmen help her out, holding her hands as she strolled out towards Darrion.

Holding a longing gaze at the tree Darrion remarked 'It looks bigger than the last time I saw it.'

'Unlike me it hasn't grown captain.' she said stifling her smile. 'Not one bit.'

The Godsgrace dwarfed its onlookers, creating a looming shadow that passed over the ground. However, Darrion thought in his mind about the keep itself. It put into perspective how large the keep is as well. The damn thing is nearly as big as the tree itself. Of course, the hill definitely gives it some height but even still.. In all the seas of the realm, this indeed is still the best marvel Darrion witnessed. A living piece of history that has stood the test of time.

'Come Darrion, we need to get you bedded... And cleaned.' Queen Eleanor said with a smirk. Darrion hung his head down, smiling and headed after her.

They went around the stone that lined the tree's base. Ahead was the Grand entrance, taller than any man's reach. There were two large doors, made with giant slabs of wood with Gold and silver bolted onto them. Guards cried orders that came from atop the walls. The doors bellowed and rumbled as they opened and greeted their visitors that entered them.