Untold by Rhymer

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Story Notes:

This was written for the "Lost and Found" November 2013 challenge, with the prompt being the emotion "embarrassment."

A jewel of great price had been stolen from the Citadel.

"It means war!" wailed Iorlas, an old man of Minas Tirith. "Who would dare steal from our King but a deadly enemy?" He was emptying his wardrobe, stuffing clothes into a pack. "Oh! What if it’s the Elf Stone itself? That’s the luck of the kingdom!"

"The King is the luck of the Kingdom," said his daughter. "I think… The stone and the crown and the sword… They are things of power, yes, but take them away, and he would still be…"

"We must flee!" Iorlas wailed.

"Ours," she said quietly.

Trumpets blared in the square. "More bad news!" Iorlas lamented. "I can’t bear it!"

His daughter opened the window, and leaned out to listen. "They’re saying… Oh! The King's returned from the wilds, and the jewel has been recovered. See?" She turned back with a smile. "You were panicking over nothing."

Iorlas cleared his throat. "Er… Well. I… always knew we’d be saved when the King returned. The jewel has been recovered, eh? I bet the King hunted the thief and slew him personally. There’s a great story of mighty deeds, here, you mark my words."


Arwen’s hands felt raw with wringing. "Oh, my lord! I hardly know how to confess. While you were away, I let somebody steal…"

"Peace, beloved." Aragorn drew a wrapped bundle from beneath his weather-worn clothes. "I told you I was taking it with me. You were embroidering at the time, but have you not told me many times that elf ladies are quite capable of doing two things at once?"

A slow blush spread across Arwen's cheeks.

Taking her in his arms, Aragorn kissed her. "Fear not, beloved. We will merely announce that it has been found. Nobody will ever know."

Chapter End Notes:

This was a real challenge! Not only am I rubbish at drabbles, being a wordy writer, I'm also someone who runs gibbering from the room whenever anyone on television does anything embarrassing, so for me, a drabble about embarrassment was about as challenging as it gets. My muse refused point blank to write an entirely serious story about embarrassment, and kept trying to produce irreverent silliness. ("Oops, silly me," said Sauron. "It was behind the couch all along.") I feel a little unhappy about how I've treated the characters, but it could have been far worse!

Iorlas is a minor character from my outsider viewpoint Thorongil story, "A Captain and a Cause," where he was last seen as an arrogant and rather objectionable teenager. I enjoyed seeing him here as a rather silly old man.

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