Tnippet Tuesday
Thank you for the tag, @hobbitwrangler! Have a sneak peak of an exchange between Isilmë and the Witch-king that I wrote last night in which she reveals her identity as Eärnur's betrothed and the Witch-king reacts Accordingly (this happens in a much later chapter but whatever)
She swallowed around a lump in her throat. “Well, there was one last betrothal arranged a year before the siege.” Although she expected it, his messenger was perfectly in place to check her king despite her castling, her pawns, and all her careful planning. It was over in a heartbeat. She clenched her hands in her skirts, stifling a frustrated scream that had been building in her chest since the game began. Victorious, the Witch-king leaned back in his chair and regarded her with amusement, his eyes glinting beneath the shadows of his hood. “Indeed? How tragic that thy city fell before thou and he could be wed, happily-ever-after.” “The prince will come for me,” Isilmë said. She hoped that she sounded more confident than she was and hated the way her words wobbled. The Witch-king was silent as if in sudden doubt or anger. When he did speak, her blood turned to ice at the rage in his voice. “The prince? Dost thou mean that thou were to wed Eärnur, son of Anárion?” “I am afraid so. Sorry to disappoint you. After all, princesses are such a basic choice of prisoner and always cause more trouble than they are worth. Her betrothed might come riding in at any minute on a white horse, his armour shining, to throw down the tower and slay the sorcerer holding her hostage. What a shame.” He thought for a moment, then hissed, deep and low and sinister. “The prince could not break the siege with the strength of his father’s armies nor the might of his sword-arm. How then dost thou expect thy beloved to breach the walls now when I have won the city and keep thee in my hand? I would break him.” “His heart is true and bold,” Isilmë replied. She lifted her chin. “No man in Gondor can equal his skill in combat, and I doubt that there is a warrior in the North, East, or South of Middle-earth who could best him in a duel.” "I can tell thee truly that he ran from me on the field of battle with his tail between his legs," the Witch-king said. He laughed in malicious amusement. "Thy prince is no braver than a cowardly dog! He is unworthy of his throne and undeserving of thy love. What hast thou to say to that?” “You are a liar." Isilmë remembered Silmahtar telling her about the last battle against Angmar and Eärnur’s confrontation with the Witch-king. She did not remember him mentioning the prince fleeing; only that his horse had been frightened and he could not control it as it carried him away from the field. Perhaps he had been mistaken or had embellished Eärnur's bravery to impress a foolish starry-eyed girl. However, she would not trust a word the enemy spoke since he sought only to tarnish Eärnur, and that enraged her beyond all fear. “The horse was to blame, not the prince! I am sure that Eärnur would have stood his ground and fought otherwise. It is truly a shame, for his triumph over you would have been glorious.” “He would have lost even if his horse had not thrown him,” he replied venomously, “for no mortal man may defeat me.”
No pressure tags: @yellow-faerie, @a-lonely-dunadan, @sweetearthandnorthernsky, and anyone else who'd like to have a go!
