|
Sprinkler Systems
Uhaul move
Lawn care
Roses and trees
Ford Parts
Chrysler Parts
Lake Powell
New IPod Touch Apps
New IPhone Apps
IPhone Apps
IPad Information
IPad Apps
Android APPS
Android Games APPS
Android Systems
Android Tablets APPS and Beyond
Smartphone Apps
Smartphone Games Apps Repair and Tools
Tablet PC
Car Sharing Car Leasing
Tabler Pc
Fly Fishing
Toyota Cars
Vacation Rentals
Stock market
NYSE
SSE Stock
Freight & Shipping News
Gluten
Lactose
Gout
My Coupon Life
Campgrounds Check
Outdoor
Kitchen Design and Redoo
Bath Remodeling
Palm Springs
Las Vegas Vacation Tipps
Lake Powell Boating
Homes for lease
Electric and green Car Blog
Pearls and diamonds
Whatsapp and forget SMS Blog, What is Whatsapp App
Solar Panel Solar Energie Sun Power Blog
|
Fantasy » alt.fan.tolkien » Count of Monte Fato, chapitre 12, part 1; or the google deathmatch
| Count of Monte Fato, chapitre 12, part 1; or the google deathmatch [message #74581] |
Mi, 06 Juli 2005 07:07 |
|
Chapitre 12. Le steuard et le banquier.
The next day, around half past two in the afternoon, a hobbite of
seventy years who hoped to pass for fifty, dressed in an ornamental
waistcoat of an eel-like green and yellow, arrived outside the Count of
Monte Fato's residence at Champs-Valinor=E9es in a magnificent cal=E8che
drawn by two oliphants with crowns on their heads. He sent his valet
to inquire whether the Count was chez lui. While waiting, the hobbite
contemplated, with an attention so minutious as to be almost
impertinent, the exterior of the palace, the garden, and the livery,
marked with an enormous red Eye, of those servants that could be
perceived coming and going. He speculated that the spoons of such a
Durin-Khroizaz must be valuable indeed.
The valet returned shortly thereafter. "I handed my visiting card to
the concierge," he said, "only to be informed that the Count was not
visible, and that the concierge would give the message to the valet de
chambre, for the concierge durst not approach his Excellency when the
latter bore the Ring."
"Ah, then this monsieur is an /Ernil-i-Pharvenu/, who glories in the
title /Excellency/," said Sacqueville-Danglars. "N'importe; since he
has a credit with me, he will have to see me when he wants money,
whether he will or he nill." With that, he departed for the Chambre
des Moutants.
>From behind a jalousie, the unseen Count, veiled in shadow, studied the
baron with the aid of a lorgnette that suited his Lidless Eye
admirably, and with no less attention than Sacqueville-Danglars had
employed in examining the palace, garden, and liveries. "A witless
worm he has become," he remarked. "I have passed through fire and
death, only to bandy words with a vulgar capitalist." He then
summoned Gali and Roguccio.
"How is it," he said with a frown, "that the best oliphants in the
Shir=E9 are not in my stables?"
Gali writhed and grovelled on the floor; had he been able to speak, he
would have begged the Count "Don't hurt us! Don't let kind
master hurt us, Pr=E9cieux!"
"It is not your fault, Gali," said Monte Fato in Haradric, with an
unexpected gentleness in his voice and expression. "If you seem to
have erred, think that it was fated to be so, that my =E9clat might
triumph all the more." He then turned his baleful red Eye towards
his intendant.
"They were not for sale," said Roguccio. "There are some things one
can embezzle once only, he said. I did not rightly know what he
meant."
"There is nothing that cannot be bought with dominion over the mines of
Morie and three of the rings of the dwarves," said the Count with a
shrug. "See to it."
"Does monsieur le comte speak seriously?" asked Roguccio.
Monte Fato regarded the Balrogue in astonishment that the latter had
dared question him. "I have to pay a visit at five o'clock
tonight, and those oliphants shall be attached to my carriage."
"Permit me to remind your Excellency that it is now half past
four," ventured Roguccio.
"I know," said the Count. "But where there is a whip, there is
as an infallible consequence a will."
Fifteen minutes later, the moumaques were attached to the Count's
carriage, which departed forthwith in the direction of the mansion of
Sacqueville-Danglars.
Baron Othon de Sacqueville-Danglars was counting spoons, according to
his habit, when the Count of Monte Fato was announced. The Count
entered the antechamber, a small salon that was meant to recall the
Mines of Morie, but completely lacked their peculiar rusticated charm;
there the Count casually inspected the copies of Stridier and
Fanboiello that had been passed off as originals, despite the absence
of the former's characteristic mushrooms or the latter's inimitable
flame. The baron nodded slightly, and gestured for the Count to sit.
The Count sat. Sacqueville-Danglars offered the Count a high-elvish
/sigarro yavanna/, and took one himself.
"Do I have the honour of addressing monsieur de Monte Fato?" asked
Sacqueville-Danglars.
"And I, monsieur le baron Sacqueville-Danglars, chevalier of the
Legion of the Golden Tobacco Jar, member of the Chamber of Moutants? =BB
"Excuse me for not giving you your title at once, monsieur," said
Sacqueville-Danglars, nervously clutching a pendant with a white gem
shaped like the Bank of Arnor. "We live under a popular government,
and I represent the interests of the People."
"So that, even while continuing the practice of calling yourself
baron, you have abandoned that of calling others count," replied
Monte Fato.
"Oh, I attribute no importance to that myself," said
Sacqueville-Danglars. "But you know, one absolutely cannot enter the
/Dragon jaune/ without a title, and the domestics ..."
"You have your servants call you god-king; the shirrifes,
monseigneur; the journalists, monsieur; and your constituents, citoyen.
These are nuances that befit a constitutional government ordered along
the model of a colony of cherrystone clams. I understand perfectly."
Seeing that he could not compete with Monte Fato on this terrain,
Sacqueville-Danglars sought to move the conversation to an area where
he felt more comfortable.
"Monsieur le comte," he said with a bow, "I have the honour of
receiving a letter from Bombadil and Forn, but I avow that I have not
wholly understood its meaning."
"How so?" said the Count. "Can you not read the fiery letters?
Are the Adunaic legal constructions unclear? Did the clerks of
Bombadil and Forn unduly mutate the phrase /beau Idealen/?"
"Non, monsieur ... Only this word /unlimited/ ..."
"Is it not good Parler commun?"
"Perfectly. But in matters of finance, the word is so vague, at
least for mortals."
"I see, then, that M. Sacqueville-Danglars only does business with
hobbites and lesser Men. He is wise; for mortals that attempt to
exceed their limits not infrequently drown, and get their island sunk
besides." The Count punctuated this remark by drawing on his cigar
and blowing a great ring of smoke with many smaller rings that followed
it, and which it devoured.
Sacqueville-Danglars ground his teeth, doubting whether he had read
rightly the purport of Monte Fato's gesture with the rings of smoke,
above all whether it signified that the Count's wealth was such that
he might try to buy him out. It was the second time that he had been
defeated by that man, and this time on a subject where he ought to have
triumphed and left his adversary in the dusts of Gorgorot, the least
fashionable of the shopping areas of Mordor in the elder days. The
Count, on the other hand, smiled with the best grace in the world, and
spoke with a na=EFvet=E9 that gave him several advantages.
"You see, monsieur," continued the Count, "I do not know exactly
how much money I will need."
The banker believed that victory was within his grasp. He blew a
flaccid and extremely inelegant smoke-ring, smiled like a troll
consuming a burrito, and said, "Oh, monsieur, fear not to desire, for
the maison Sacqueville-Danglars, limited though it be, disposes of the
largest resources this side of the Mountains of Cologne, should you
require a million floquerins."
"A million?" said the Count. "And what on earth would I do with
that? Bon =C9rou! If I wanted a million, I would not open a credit for
such a mis=E8re. I regularly annihilate a million floquerins a day in
order to save space." And Monte-Fato removed from a pendant a small
ring and put it on with a charming smile that made the baron's blood
run cold; he had the unnerving sense that a hostile will pinned him
under its deadly, gaze, naked and immovable.
"Surety you crave?" continued Monte Fato. "You seem to distrust
the house of Bombadil and Forn, or perhaps simply do not find their
music pleasing to your ears. Mon =C9rou! I foresaw the case, and
although entirely unversed in affairs, I've taken precautions. Voici
donc parallel letters of credit from Glamhothschild, Thorinowitz,
d'Alqualonde, and the balrogue of Morie. Regrettably, I left the
letter from Manvre at home; it needed cleaning from the effects of the
eagles."
Sacqueville-Danglars was conquered; he opened, trembling, the letters
that the Count handed him, and verified their signatures with a
minutiosity that had been offensive, were not his terror evident.
"Speak, monsieur le comte," he gasped. "I am at your command."
"With the permission of monsieur le baron, we will call that
settled," smiled the Count. "Now that we understand each other and
you have no more distrust, let us fix a sum for the first year: six
million, for example, and all profits from operations of your company
east of the Mountains of Cologne will be mine for ever, solely."
"So be it!" said Sacqueville-Danglars, suffocated. "Do you want
gold, bank notes, or silver?"
"Half in golden rings, half in barrow-blades, s'il vous pla=EEt."
The Count rose.
"I must confess one thing, monsieur le comte," said the baron.
"I believed myself to have an exact knowledge of all the finest
fortunes of Terre-moyenne, and yet yours, which seems considerable, was
entirely unknown to me. Is it recent?"
"Non, monsieur," replied Monte Fato. "On the contrary, it is one
of the most ancient. It was a family treasure that it was forbidden to
touch, until, after a defeat and a respite, the treasure arose again;
the time fixed by the ringlord has only recently revolved. Your
ignorance is therefore only natural, and, moreover, you will know it
better in time. But that can wait; as Gandault observed, those who
have prepared a soir=E9e prefer to keep their secret." The Count
accompanied the last words with one of those pale smiles that had
caused so much fear in Arafrantz d'Imrahil.
"Later I will request that you do me the honour of seeing my spoons,
all ancient, for I do not like the moderns, and all elvish, for I do
not appreciate les artistes hobbitains," said Sacqueville-Danglars.
"You are right, monsieur. For the moderns generally have a great
defect, that of not having had time to become ancient; and the hobbites
a worse defect still - that of not being elves."
The baron nodded sagely. "But all that will wait for another time.
For now I will content myself, with your permission, to present you to
my wife, the Baroness Sacqueville-Danglars. Excuse my eagerness,
monsieur le comte; but a client like you is almost part of the
family."
Monte Fato bowed in recognition of the honour that Sacqueville-Danglars
extended to him; and the baron rang a bell. A lackey appeared.
"Is Mme Lob=E9lie de Sacqueville-Danglars at home?"
"Yes, monsieur le god-king," replied the lackey.
"And who is with madame? M de Brie?" asked Sacqueville-Danglars
with a bonhomie that amused the Count, who was already informed of the
transparent secrets of the baron's domestic life, which was not
invisible at all, but horribly and uniquely visible, even had not the
Count possessed the Eye.
|
|
|
| Re: Count of Monte Fato, chapitre 12, part 1; or the google deathmatch [message #76491 ] |
Fr, 08 Juli 2005 06:01 |
|
Incredible! I love what you've been doing here.
vandevere
|
|
|
| Re: Count of Monte Fato, chapitre 12, part 1; or the google deathmatch [message #82710 ] |
Sa, 16 Juli 2005 03:38 |
|
ven.dvere [at] gmail.com wrote:
> Incredible! I love what you've been doing here.
>
Personally, I think it's EVIL.
|
|
|
| Re: Count of Monte Fato, chapitre 12, part 1; or the google deathmatch [message #82722 ] |
Sa, 16 Juli 2005 18:22 |
|
On 15 Jul 2005 18:38:52 -0700, in alt.fan.tolkien "Pseudonymus
al-Faqha'ter III" <pseudonimofaqhater [at] yahoo.com.br> wrote:
>
>
>ven.dvere [at] gmail.com wrote:
>> Incredible! I love what you've been doing here.
>>
>
>Personally, I think it's EVIL.
Spoken like a True Troll.
the softrat
"Honi soit qui mal y pense."
mailto:softrat [at] pobox.com
--
You will find adventure or Moo will find you!
This has been a Tamfiiris Experience.
|
|
|
Gehe zu:
aktuelle Zeit: Sa Mai 26 12:53:26 CEST 2012
Insgesamt benötigte Zeit, um die Seite zu erzeugen: 0,04610 Sekunden |
