User blog:TylwythTeg/Y Sedd Ddofn

Urien observed the approach of the pale, waif-like figure with silent contempt, as it hurried across the main square of the Deephold to the Great Hall, where Urien stood guard.

Initially, Urien had found this Elf's slavish devotion to the every whim of their leader risible. Later, he began to find it irritating; and now, as many times before, Urien found himself wondering why. As the figure drew near, Urien suddenly felt able to admit to himself that he found it... yes; a little threatening. The worthless cuckold was letting the whole sex down with his servility. It was bad form.

Urien snapped at him harshly.

"What is it now, Cynan."

Cynan did not meet his gaze. Urien was physically intimidating - his arms and shoulders were huge, almost vulgar; and he towered over most Elves, even the males - and especially Cynan. The two could not have been more different.

"I-I have brought what her Holiness requested."

"And what's that."

"Her Holiness instructed me to only deliver it to her personally."

Urien's lip curled cruelly.

"Don't play games with me, you snivelling cur. Nothing enters the Great Hall without my say-so; and the mistress trusts me with all her secrets. Which is more than can be said for the likes of you. If you want to complete your task, then you'll tell me-"

Urien broke off as a smooth, feminine voice echoed out to them from the hall behind him.

"Urien. It is alright. Send him in."

Cynan took this as his cue and scurried past Urien with his velvet-wrapped bundle. The big Elf glowered down at him, then turned back to his post with a sneer.

The Great Hall was not a vast building. Nothing much was, down here in the dark beneath the Underground Pass. The houses were beautiful, yes - they had mostly been hewn out of the stone in one piece with magic - but the space was very limited for the size of their growing community. The Great Hall was much taller and grander than most - the walls towered up on either side of Cynan into a great gothic vault high above - but it was no more than forty feet long.

The really impressive thing stood on a stepped dais at the far end of the hall: a tall throne, sung from dark crystal, threw a visceral, pulsating purple glow across the floor - for all the world like a living, beating heart. It was a very dark art to sing crystal in this way.

Y Sedd Ddofn - the Deep Seat. No wonder its occupant was held in such awe. Cynan could not understand how people like Urien could refrain from cowering before her. He prostrated himself at her feet, and held out his velvet bundle.

"The scrying-orb of the m-magician Mathonwy, your Holiness. As you commanded."

Marwnad observed the quivering wretch for a moment. It really was marvellous, the effect one could have on some people - with just the tiniest drop of effortless theatricality. And a little ruthless repression, of course.

After a few moments, she reached down and took the bag from Cynan. She allowed her sharp nails and cold fingers to brush his hand for the briefest of moments, smirking as he shivered.

"Thank you... Cynan."

She unwrapped the orb and held it up, inspecting it languidly; she allowed the bag to drop to the floor. Cynan gazed on.

After a moment, as though remembering him, she turned to him.

"You may go. Send in Urien on your way out."

By the time Urien entered, Marwnad had shifted her posture, and was sitting sideways on her dramatic seat - it still filled the back of the hall with its lurid light-show - with her back against one arm of the throne, her knees bent, and her feet against the other.

The orb was out of sight again. Urien glanced around for any sign of Cynan's mysterious bundle, and felt a twinge of annoyance when he could not see it. He suppressed it.

"You called."

He bowed. Just slightly.

"My lady."

Marwnad swung her feet around and onto the floor, so that she was only sitting on one side of the large throne.

"Urien... yes."

She patted the seat beside her.

"Come. Sit with me."

Urien did as he was bidden. Marwnad swung her legs back up onto his lap, as if in a habitual gesture. Urien caressed them as she spoke. Her tone was very different with him.

"Urien... I know I can count on you. As much for your wisdom as for your strength and skill. You know more of my secrets than anyone else alive. I hope I don't rely on you too much."

Urien took one of her cool, thin hands, and pressed his lips against it.

"Never... my lady."

She smiled at him. For a few brief moments her violet eyes seemed to kindle with genuine warmth. Then it was replaced with worry again. He could tell she was building up to something. He did not interrupt.

"Do you remember... Mathonwy."

"Of course. That great magician you brought here. He built all this for us, then disappeared; eventually we found his workshop, razed to the ground, and all his possessions destroyed or looted. We tracked down his murderess, to a valley near Eagle's Peak, stole back his scrying-orb, and torched the rest."

He shifted a little, to sit more upright, and lifted her chin to look into her eyes, his expression one of concern.

"Why do you still think of him? Do you miss him?"

Marwnad shook her head slowly.

"No... it is not that. He was undeniably attractive, but - we were never serious. No, there is something else that troubles me. His... obsession, with this... girl. Fynnien. Of the Meilyr."

Urien raised an eyebrow.

"That bleeding-heart hippie who killed him? He was in love with her?"

Marwnad shrugged.

"That is just it - I do not know. I wish I did. At first I thought he was only interested in her as a way of getting to... well, you know who. The Old Owl. But now, I cannot help but think... the way he went on about her... there was something strange about it. I think there is something else about this girl. I mean to find out what it is."

Urien looked thoughtful.

"Perhaps instead of vengefully burning down her house we should have laid a trap for her."

There was gentle reproach in his voice. They both knew Marwnad had been in charge of that operation.

"Perhaps... but at the time I had not even begun to think she might actually be important. I never did understand why Mathonwy was so obsessed with that Owl; I fail to see how it has anything to do with anything..."

She paused. She allowed one of her hands to drift casually down to one of his, still caressing her legs. She began to trace gentle patterns on the back of his hands with her long nails.

"... but I think you are right about the girl. I wish to find out why she is important."

Urien stopped stroking her, and took her roaming hand in one of his.

"What is this really about, Marwnad... You know more about her than you are telling me. Don't you."

She smiled at him mischievously. Now she admitted it, he could not help but smile back.

"All in good time, my handsome bodyguard. Now kiss me."

As they began to make love on the pulsating throne in the dark hall, she murmured to him between kisses:

"Oh - also. Please remind me. Cynan is beginning to annoy me. Let's sacrifice him tomorrow."