Trying out a little Tolkien

Wow- first German post was crazy hard (not going to lie: loved it). But now is the time for some more English and I’m going to try something a little different. For those of you who know me, you know I either have a distinct long-winded tone or a very short and weirdly speculative reasoning behind what I wrote. But the other day I was reading Tolkien and it got me thinking… maybe I should try to write something like that. So here goes nothing!

Description: A servant boy is more than a servant boy- especially when an assassin in the castle is concerned

The men drank their tea like they liked their women, without sentiment or  restraint. Evan, the misspoken and quiet young serving man, watched closely, his eyes darting around their orbs. Every drop upon his masters robes needed to be cleaned. Or it would be the whip again. One of the men drinking tea noticed and cocked his eyebrow,

“What are you doing, boy?” Evan, ever the proud servant, stiffened and then bent into a low bow

“Nothing of consequence, m’lord”

The elder, a Lord Voy-cerose, sniffed ungainly before barking

“Then what are you doing here!” The boy looked up, wide-eyed, stuttering without really saying anything.

A serving maid from the next room saw the boys plight, and rushed over, knowing the Lord’s reputation and fearing its quick reproach.

“He was just coming with me, m’lord. Lots of work to be done in the kitchen, m’lord” curtseying twice, she held Evan’s arm in a vice grip and steered the pasty-faced boy away from what was sure to be his death, if not another whipping. Goodness knows the boy didn’t need another.

They walked towards the kitchen together, neither saying a word until he managed to utter a thank you. She smiled at him lightly before saying

“So far, so good. Don’t mess up again, Evan” the boy in question gave a shrug.

“I am trying” he whined, about to say more when suddenly a figure darted in front of them. A black figure, the man in question had a thin sword and a black swath covering his distinguishing features. Turning suddenly, he stared at the two servants, seemingly evaluating their usefulness, before running off towards the room where the Lords took their daily afternoon tea. Shocked into silence, both Evan and the serving girl stood stock-still before he burst into motion. Pushing the girl into the nearest room and firmly telling her to stay there, Evan, the poor servant boy, took out a thin sword from his clothing. Without warning, something shifted. The servant boy was no more, his tripping gait replaced with a strong and confident stride. His eyes, watering and trembling turned steely; and he rushed off to confront the assassin.

Bursting into the room at top speed, he stopped short of the man in black about to cut poor Lord Berntemont in half. Considering his options, Evan opted for a quick battle. Raising his weapon in a threatening gesture, he sprang forward and impaled the concealed man upon his blade. There was no whimper or moan, just the sound of a sword dropping to the ground. The lords all looked at Evan as though he were mad.

“But” Berntemont blustered, “You’re just a servant, nothing more”

“A poor excuse for one at that” Voy-cerose huffed, eyeing the sword in the boys hands with some concern, “and one that shouldn’t be holding a weapon like that”

He turned to face them, his face a study in contradictions. On one hand, the trembling and boyish visage they all knew so well was there in some fashion; but on the other, a strong and respected mask of a savior.

“Please feel free to contact Grand Arms-Master Lobner when you wish, m’lords. He will have the answers to your questions”

Without another word, he hefted the body of the assassin over his back and walked out of the room calmly, leaving three poor and confused lords behind.

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