Lord Of The Rings Fan Fiction ❯ Days of the King ❯ Augra ( Chapter 10 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Queen-of-Blades138 
Non Anime: Lord Of The Rings Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Mystery / Drama / Adventure | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 05.03.2008 | Updated On: 12.14.2008 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.3K | Visits: 201 | Status: Work In Progress
Non Anime: Lord Of The Rings Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Mystery / Drama / Adventure | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 05.03.2008 | Updated On: 12.14.2008 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.3K | Visits: 201 | Status: Work In Progress
A/N....Hey...Im back
sorry, I know this chapter is short(for me, at least)
Chapter 10 - Augra
Augra grumbled as she ascended the last of the many staircases between
her comfortable hovel on the first level of the tiered city of Gondor
(not very affectionately known as the lower city), and the highest
level of the palace.
But then Augra always grumbled. She had been a fixture in the city's
less reputable district for years. She usually attended to knife wounds,
severe drunkeness, the city's discreet but thriving prostitution trade
as well as the homelier application of the healers arts; childbirth, accidents,
and illness. She also did a brisk business of love potions, hair potions, potency
potions, fertility potions and potions that she named when a moneyed but
unperceptive customer presented themselves at her door.
Her prices were fair, and her services produced results. She was also
the best herb woman in the city, on any level, and if you wanted to know
about cures, salves, and poisons, she was your best choice. But what kept
Augra in the lower city was her oft and loudly proclaimed status as a
witch.
She had undeniable gifts; usually to see fragments and shadows of what had
been, flashes of what might yet be, and what was elsewhere. Sorcery she
could smell for about half a mile. Literally.
Augra was of middle age, and was of mixed heritage. What that mix was
was debatable. She was dark as mahogany with very thick, curly hair that had
once been a fetching auburn, but was now mostly iron grey. She had
tattoos on every square inch of her hands, arms, shoulders, back,
neck, throat, and other parts which were mercifully rarely, if ever,
seen. They were protective runes, because (according to her) magic was
zinging through the air constantly. One needed to have protection every
minute of every day.
She dressed in layers of tattered fabric, every color in the rainbow
in attendance. A great variety of talismans adorned her person.
A ram's horn, a lions' tooth, a bit of oliphaunt horn, skin from a
leviathan, rods, coins, and balls of various metals,small pouches of soil
from every part of the known world, and bits of bone from sources that
she would not name dangled, clanked and jingled about her person
incessantly so that when she moved she made her own discordant music.
The man she had known as Strider the Ranger had sought her services on
several occasions for himself and his men. She had been escorted, and
sometimes traveled for days to remote locations to minister to the Dunedain.
When Strider and the King turned out to be one and the same, as Augra
said, after a rude noise, "You must be joking." Not that he was not a
worthy man. But seldom does royalty have such care of other folk and never
mind getting their own hands dirty. She had sent him to pick wild herbs
and draw water for his men, never dreaming that she was giving orders to
Isildur's heir, the lost King of the White City.
He had not had need for her services since he came to rule the city, but
she received various gifts quite mysteriously over the years. Her bill at
the green grocer paid suddenly; coin appearing in a pouch by her door;
a fresh venison haunch; a surprise delivery of a new rocking chair;
pipe tobacco from the Shire, several bottles of very good vintage from the
royal wine cellars.
So when she had received the summons, she was surprised to find that it was
the Queen who needed her, not one of the Rangers.
The exhausted young man in armor who knocked on the royal chambers
announced her. She heard the door unlock and was let into the room by the
Lady Arwen herself. Augra was surprised to see that she had no attendant.
"My Lady", Augra said, with an unexpectedly well executed curtsey. "I
answer my Lord's summons".
Arwen was a bit distracted and stood just inside the door facing Augra.
"I am sorry to have put you through this trouble, but I am not in need of
your services, madam."
Augra surveyed the Queen critically. She wore a dressing gown of beautiful
dark green velvet which did not help the dark circles under her eyes and
sick room complexion, made more noticeable on her pale skin. Arwen had
a blue green embroidered shawl drawn tightly about her neck and throat and
held it around herself like armor with a clammy hand.
Augra felt...something. It was definitely the tingle of magic use, although
Elves were part magic, and they always distorted her senses a bit. But this
was something different, something...dark. It made one of her defensive runes
itch, but due to the rune's placement on her body, it would have been rude
to scratch it.
Augra smiled with what she hoped was her best healers smile; comforting
and knowledgeable. "I ask your majesty's permission to stay just a while.
After being summoned by the king, I am loathe to leave until we have at
least spoken a little. If you will permit me my Lady?" At this,
old Augra took Arwen's hand and led her to her chair in the sitting room.
She poured a glass of water from the table and after consulting her
many pouches, produced a tincture of an herb known for it's ability to
sooth and relax the nervous. She usually used it for untutored brides
(and occasionally bridegrooms) on their wedding night.
She showed the vial to the Queen ,"For nerves", she said, and put in three
drops. Arwen drank. Augra pulled up a stool to sit near the Queen as she
chafed the cold hand and subtly gauged her pulse. She started with the
standard healers questions to put her at her ease.
"Have you been sleeping well, my Lady?"
"How is your appetite?"
"Any bad dreams?"
As the herb took effect, she seemed to relax a little.
"I ask you as a subject and friend to our King, Madam Augra, a favor of
the highest importance. You must swear to secrecy on your life."
Augra's shrewd little eyes narrowed. "If he could not trust me, my Lady, I
would not be here."
Arwen sighed. "Yes. You are right."
As if suddenly making a decision, she stood up abruptly, and dropped shawl
and robe.
Unable to contain it, Augra gave a sharp intake of breath. She had seen
this type of bruising before.
The Queen had been savagely raped.
"I want you to examine me. If you can tell, I need to know if I will ever
bear a child".
sorry, I know this chapter is short(for me, at least)
Chapter 10 - Augra
Augra grumbled as she ascended the last of the many staircases between
her comfortable hovel on the first level of the tiered city of Gondor
(not very affectionately known as the lower city), and the highest
level of the palace.
But then Augra always grumbled. She had been a fixture in the city's
less reputable district for years. She usually attended to knife wounds,
severe drunkeness, the city's discreet but thriving prostitution trade
as well as the homelier application of the healers arts; childbirth, accidents,
and illness. She also did a brisk business of love potions, hair potions, potency
potions, fertility potions and potions that she named when a moneyed but
unperceptive customer presented themselves at her door.
Her prices were fair, and her services produced results. She was also
the best herb woman in the city, on any level, and if you wanted to know
about cures, salves, and poisons, she was your best choice. But what kept
Augra in the lower city was her oft and loudly proclaimed status as a
witch.
She had undeniable gifts; usually to see fragments and shadows of what had
been, flashes of what might yet be, and what was elsewhere. Sorcery she
could smell for about half a mile. Literally.
Augra was of middle age, and was of mixed heritage. What that mix was
was debatable. She was dark as mahogany with very thick, curly hair that had
once been a fetching auburn, but was now mostly iron grey. She had
tattoos on every square inch of her hands, arms, shoulders, back,
neck, throat, and other parts which were mercifully rarely, if ever,
seen. They were protective runes, because (according to her) magic was
zinging through the air constantly. One needed to have protection every
minute of every day.
She dressed in layers of tattered fabric, every color in the rainbow
in attendance. A great variety of talismans adorned her person.
A ram's horn, a lions' tooth, a bit of oliphaunt horn, skin from a
leviathan, rods, coins, and balls of various metals,small pouches of soil
from every part of the known world, and bits of bone from sources that
she would not name dangled, clanked and jingled about her person
incessantly so that when she moved she made her own discordant music.
The man she had known as Strider the Ranger had sought her services on
several occasions for himself and his men. She had been escorted, and
sometimes traveled for days to remote locations to minister to the Dunedain.
When Strider and the King turned out to be one and the same, as Augra
said, after a rude noise, "You must be joking." Not that he was not a
worthy man. But seldom does royalty have such care of other folk and never
mind getting their own hands dirty. She had sent him to pick wild herbs
and draw water for his men, never dreaming that she was giving orders to
Isildur's heir, the lost King of the White City.
He had not had need for her services since he came to rule the city, but
she received various gifts quite mysteriously over the years. Her bill at
the green grocer paid suddenly; coin appearing in a pouch by her door;
a fresh venison haunch; a surprise delivery of a new rocking chair;
pipe tobacco from the Shire, several bottles of very good vintage from the
royal wine cellars.
So when she had received the summons, she was surprised to find that it was
the Queen who needed her, not one of the Rangers.
The exhausted young man in armor who knocked on the royal chambers
announced her. She heard the door unlock and was let into the room by the
Lady Arwen herself. Augra was surprised to see that she had no attendant.
"My Lady", Augra said, with an unexpectedly well executed curtsey. "I
answer my Lord's summons".
Arwen was a bit distracted and stood just inside the door facing Augra.
"I am sorry to have put you through this trouble, but I am not in need of
your services, madam."
Augra surveyed the Queen critically. She wore a dressing gown of beautiful
dark green velvet which did not help the dark circles under her eyes and
sick room complexion, made more noticeable on her pale skin. Arwen had
a blue green embroidered shawl drawn tightly about her neck and throat and
held it around herself like armor with a clammy hand.
Augra felt...something. It was definitely the tingle of magic use, although
Elves were part magic, and they always distorted her senses a bit. But this
was something different, something...dark. It made one of her defensive runes
itch, but due to the rune's placement on her body, it would have been rude
to scratch it.
Augra smiled with what she hoped was her best healers smile; comforting
and knowledgeable. "I ask your majesty's permission to stay just a while.
After being summoned by the king, I am loathe to leave until we have at
least spoken a little. If you will permit me my Lady?" At this,
old Augra took Arwen's hand and led her to her chair in the sitting room.
She poured a glass of water from the table and after consulting her
many pouches, produced a tincture of an herb known for it's ability to
sooth and relax the nervous. She usually used it for untutored brides
(and occasionally bridegrooms) on their wedding night.
She showed the vial to the Queen ,"For nerves", she said, and put in three
drops. Arwen drank. Augra pulled up a stool to sit near the Queen as she
chafed the cold hand and subtly gauged her pulse. She started with the
standard healers questions to put her at her ease.
"Have you been sleeping well, my Lady?"
"How is your appetite?"
"Any bad dreams?"
As the herb took effect, she seemed to relax a little.
"I ask you as a subject and friend to our King, Madam Augra, a favor of
the highest importance. You must swear to secrecy on your life."
Augra's shrewd little eyes narrowed. "If he could not trust me, my Lady, I
would not be here."
Arwen sighed. "Yes. You are right."
As if suddenly making a decision, she stood up abruptly, and dropped shawl
and robe.
Unable to contain it, Augra gave a sharp intake of breath. She had seen
this type of bruising before.
The Queen had been savagely raped.
"I want you to examine me. If you can tell, I need to know if I will ever
bear a child".