Ashes ⇝Legolas

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CHAPTER TWENTY
A BOOK OF OLD

There was yet one thing as clear as sun upon water's surface and it was the devastation that had wrapped the halls of Rohan in its coat, in close similarity to the perilous darkness arising.

Wealth and power royal house held, statutes of great kings, gold embraced in its columns and ground of pure stone seemed to all lessen when met with such happenings of darker magic and covered in its shadow grew weak, old, death knocking on the doorstep of once magnificent halls.

Nesryn had never seen such thriving kingdom fall to the very depth, the lowest any had fallen in despair and ruin taken by the fell deeds of manipulating magic. She did not remember the kingdom lay in such control of outer forces not even two hundred years in passing as the last time she had visited the kingdom, when Théoden was not even set to rule it.

Mentioning the king, overthrown, mind poisoned by the hold of Saruman whose soldiers have bravely situated near in protection and who yet spoke none, but listened to the poisoning words of his most loyal servant, a man who was yet so pale his very skin seemed to grow paper white and two eyes such menacingly blue he as if could freeze an enemy with their malice.

"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King." Gandalf announced to the silent hall, his voice breaking the long-lasting silence. The king, a truth to be told rather sorry sight, old, even too old for his years sat in full sickness and even if he had a certain control over the whole situation, he could not began to use it, for the hold of Saruman was yet too strong.

The servant by king's side, that black-haired and pale man whispered some more words to the king, something Nesryn did not even care to listen in no matter that her hearing was far better than in ordinary man.

At last the king weakly rose his head, a complete whiteness in the cavities where his eyes were supposed to stand. "Why should I welcome you...Gandalf Stormcrow." His voice was such a strained sound, weak beyond any measure and as slow as much as painful to listen to the cursed tone it held.

"A just question, my liege." The servant, Gríma as the guard outside had called him said, rising from his seat by the king and in sly, withering motions just like a snake strode toward the approaching five. "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear. Lathspell I name him. Ill news is an ill guest." The man leaned closer to Gandalf, his teeth an awful yellow and dirty as he spoke.

"Be silent! Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm!" Gandalf rose his voice at the man, following close after his staff at the sight of which Gríma stumbled steps backwards.

"His staff!" Gríma cried out. "I told you to take the Wizard's staff."

Only then as the man yelled out, did the approaching guards ready their attacks on seemingly harmless visitors, sooner then Nesryn had even managed to consider how the turn of the events had happened she was quickly approached by a guard whose heavy, iron attire clang due to the urgent movement with which he had approached her.

To say the woman was harmless without her weaponry would not be an understatement, for she hadn't fought fist fights in centuries, carrying only her daggers in protection that yet still offered more of it than the uncoordinated movement of her firmly planted feet and staggering as the guard was the first to launch an attack. Nesryn dodged rather ungracefully, tipped by a bit to right under the heavy blow she had almost received which repeated by the guard again sent her reeling to the hard ground.

And that was the moment she saw her advantage.

Kicking her legs up, the woman mustered as much strength as possible, seeing as the guard had aimlessly charged at her and once he was close enough, Nesryn kicked him further than she would ever expect— he even brought another guard down with him. Nesryn was, needless to say a bit shocked by just how much undiscovered strength she possessed, how unknown had it been to her for many ages of the world.