Prep 28 Contest Round Background Story

Prep 28 - Plot CONTEST ROUND Plot Background Story ?
Write a story that sets up your plot. The Lord of the Rings story revolves around the One Ring, its significance, and how it's destroyed. But how did Frodo get the One Ring in the first place? We learn that in The Hobbit. You obviously can't write a full-scale novel in 15 minutes, but you could write the scene where Bilbo encounters Gollum and stumbles across the Ring. That would be a background story that sets up the plot in Lord of the Rings.
*Contest Round entries may be any rating. Submit your ITEM or ENTRY number by 1200 noon WDC time on Sunday to compete. WDC time is New York City time and can be found at the top of the IM Console. If you miss this deadline or choose not to compete, you must still log the assignment complete (without linking your work) for the grand prize, per the standard Prep guidelines.


When he was still a Prince and his Da and Mem were still alive, Jairan was a happy youngster. He had his run of the Palace, his pet, Veren, and all the sweets his Mem would allow him to eat. He was allowed to sit in all his Da's meetings to learn about State business and, after, talk about what he saw and learned. His Mem would take him for walks around the Capital to meet all the people so he would see and understand what the people wanted and, most importantly, needed. He loved those walks with her because, as she did, he felt he was doing something special for the people.
As time moved forward, as it always does, little Jairan grew. He soon began to lead the meetings while his Da sat in and listened. On his walks around the city, he would disguise himself to see better what the people needed and how the guards treated them. His popularity grew substantially. He was going to the different towns and villages to discuss the King's plans for unification.
On one such visit, he received a Wishgraph urging him home immediately. He made haste and arrived within the week. Once he came to the Palace, he immediately knew what had happened. Black curtains adorned all the windows and pictures. His Mem had passed, and his Da wouldn't leave her side.
The Clerics advised that there would need to be a burial soon; however, his Da wouldn't let anyone near his beloved. Jairan went to his room and saw all the windows were open, and several incense pots were around the room.
He went to stand by his Da. Memories began to overwhelm him as he placed his hand on his Da's shoulder. They stayed that way for a while before Jairan quietly said, "Da, it's time to let go. Mem wouldn't want you to fret so. She'd be worried about you." He waited for his Da to respond.
"Da?"
"Da?"

At that moment, Umor Ihilp Decory Oxyaug II fell over, dead.
The State Funeral for his Da was held four days later because the funeral for his Mem was two days before. His Mem's funeral was quiet as no one except close family attended. Jairan knew his Mem would have preferred this.
Two days later, Jairan was woken eight hours before the Service to prepare. He needed to be appropriately bathed, dressed, Blessed and then escorted to the tomb where the Service would be completed, and then he would be entombed for eternity. As soon as the tomb is closed, an escort of no fewer than fifty squads of Warriors will escort him back to the Palace for the coronation.
As he was yet to be betrothed, all eligible women of the realm were notified of this coronation and advised to be there. The hope was that King Jairan Umor Retep Oxyaug, III would be attracted to one of the approximately three million, seven hundred thousand, thirty-six eligible women. Of course, Trollfolk, Orgres, Merefolk, and Elves were included in that count.
As it turned out, King Jairan wasn't quite ready to settle down. He wanted to finish what his Da had started with the consolidation of all the peoples within the lands. It was an uphill battle; however, he had the best teacher.
Years went by. King Jairan succeeded in all the endeavors he undertook. He was, however, making his counselors nervous because he was not married and not an heir.
"I just haven't found anyone that has made me want to marry her, and I will not marry just to have an heir."
"Of course, we are not suggesting that, Your Lordship. We are only worried about your lineage." "Well, I'm glad you are so worried about my loins and not love." He said jokingly. The Chamberlain stammered several times before he realized the humor.
After a visit to the Badlands with a small regiment of soldiers, King Jairan stopped at one of the oases along the way to refresh the horses and cool off. While there, a caravan of travelers come through riding black and brown camels. As one of the camel riders leads its camel to drink, King Jairan states, "I have never seen a black camel before. Are they rare?"
The rider looks up and notices the camel rider is a woman. "The color of the camel is directly related to the color of the water it drinks, kind sir."
King Jairan looks startled at learning this as he has never heard this before. He was almost ready to ask a follow-up question when he saw a sparkle in her eyes.
"That is truly a fantastic piece of information. Thank you, malady. I see you were headed in the same direction we are. We would be honored if you would join us. If you would like, that is."
"How do I know you are not bandits trying to take our cargo and leave us stranded, or worse?"
"I give you my word as a gentleman, I mean you, or your caravan ill will."
"Am I to take your word for it? Let me see your hands. Both of them." The caravan leader intently looks at King Jairan's hands, turning them over front to back, then back to act."
"What's your name?"
"Jairan. What's yours?"
"I'll ask the questions right now. You have a sword fighter's hands, but you have never been in a fight because there aren't any nicks or scars, not even old ones. They are strong, so you do some work, but the nails are evenly cut and manicured. I would say you are a merchant. I am not sure being around you with your cargo and ours would be that safe."
"You are very clever and observant. I admire that. I want to assure you that I can protect you. How far and where are you going?"
"You certainly are persistent. Since you asked, we are going to Nilshire, the Capital."
"So are we. It is my pleasure to escort you."
"Just you? That doesn't give me much confidence."
"All right, fair enough. How many do I need for you to feel safe? Two? Five? Six?"
"There are thirty of us. Six of you will be nothing compared to us. We will be protecting you."
"I'm sorry, I am. I felt misunderstood. When I said Two, five, and six? I meant two hundred, five hundred, or six hundred. Right now, I only have two hundred of the Imperial Royal Guard."
"Two hundred? Here? Why? Wait - the Imperial Royal Guard? Aren't they the King's private guards? Does he know you have them here?"
"Yes, they are the Royal Guard. And I do know they are here. They followed me. They do that all the time."
"You're the King? You're King Jairan? The King Jairan?" She fell prostrate on the ground, eyes on the floor.
"Please get up. You never told me your name yet. What is your name?"
"Yes, my Lord. My name is Ralojor. I hope it suits you".
"Of course it does. It's a beautiful name."
Ralojor blushes, "Thank you, my lord."
"OK, that stops now. My name is Jairan. Not My Lord. Not King Jairan. Not Your Highness. For you, it's Jairan. OK?
With some hesitation, Ralojor smiled shyly and said, "Yes, My... Yes, Jairan."
Their wedding was two years later. They had a happy marriage. There were many happy years together without children. Neither one was in a hurry to have a child because their duties as Royalty kept them busy.
After ten years of marriage, Ralojor approached Jairan as he sat on his throne, rubbing his temples, after a hectic conversation with delegates from the dwarves and trolls regarding a border dispute. He sees her as she passes the guards.
Smiling with devotion, "Finally, I see a vision of calm and loveliness. How may I serve you, my Princess?"
Courtesying, "My Lord, you do me an injustice. I seek a private audience with the King, if I may?"
Without hesitation, "Everyone out. Hestice, postpone all further meetings for one candle mark. Make that two. Guards, anyone trying to enter is to be put into chains and held until I can see them next week."
When the doors were finally closed, Ralojor looked at her beloved with one raised eyebrow and said, "When you want privacy, you mean it."
"For you, anything is too little. Now, what is it we shall talk about?" Asked Jairan, sitting next to his wife on the bench next to the throne.
You once told me the greatest gift I could give you was a piece of myself, and I said the same. We are creating such a being. I am with child."
"Are you sure? That is wonderful! The gods have truly blessed you!"
"They have blessed us, Jairan. They smile at us and are pleased."
"This is cause for a celebration. I will have riders announce the news to every city, town, and village. An heir is to be born!"
"A Proclamation from the King and Queen! Announcing the birth of Virion Quinn Peterel Oxyaug, III, the next King of Whaiger. A celebration will be held in Nilshire, Sremore, Ninh Traduhrl, Klence, Sie Ubliu, and Titania's Academy of Magicks and Higher Academics. The Royal Family will sponsor all activities, food, drinks, and entertainment in honor of Prince Virion."
The Prince grew up in a loving and nurturing family. While his Da immersed himself in the political aspects of running the land, his Mem doted on Virion. She spent her days teaching him everything she knew of her heritage: survival in the vengeful desert, the secret languages of her people, horseback riding, daggers, and rudimentary healing.
The time spent with Virion meant Ralojor was not doting over Jairan. Instead of fondly remembering his mother's time with him, the King grew envious of his son.
At eleven, Jairan sent the Prince to the harshest military academy he knew, the Dwarven Ninh Traduhrl Academy. He advised their leaders that he expected no different treatment for his son than others. In fact, "I expect him to be pushed harder because of the mantel he will assume one day. He must be ready for anything. Understood what I am saying?"
They understood and took it to heart.
One hundred fifty participants started training. The first two years were muscle building: running, lifting, carrying, and pushing. Every day, all day. Little sleep, just enough food not to die, and water.
The next five years were in hand-to-hand combat, fighting with all weapons and healing magicks (this would be vital for later).
The next ten years were the most demanding because not only did they work on sword mastery and archery, but they used the actual weapons and no armor. In the final three years, they fought in the gladiator pits against criminals, traitors, beasts, and anyone wanting to make a name for themselves.
Ten fighters walked out of the arena that final day. Their leader was Virion.
After fifteen years away from his parents, Virion was excited to see them again. He had not seen nor heard anything from them, and the dwarves did not share any news about the royal family when asked. As he was about to enter the private chambers, he was stopped by the King's Private Secretary, Letred. "Prince Virion, you have arrived. It is so excellent to see you again. Much has happened since you left, as you are aware."
"No, I am not aware. No one had contacted me since I began training fifteen years ago. What has happened? Are Mother and Father all right?"
"No communication? I send you detailed updates every week. I thought it strange that you never replied. We should go to my office to talk. There is much you should know about. After you."
"When you left, the Queen retreated. She stopped attending social events, and the Queen stopped; her Magestsy withdrew. She just wasn't herself."
"Where is my Mother? I want to go see her immediately."
"I am sorry, your Highness. Her Majesty passed away eight years ago. I thought certainly His Highness would have contacted you."
"He didn't. Where can I find my Father? I need to speak with him."
"He is in his quarters. I need to advise you that he has not been himself. He has.. ."
"'Has' What? What has he done? Speak!"
"It is best you see for yourself."
******************************************
"Father, I need to speak with you."

He was seeing his Father clearly for the first time in fifteen years. He was lying on his bed, scantly clothed, not shaven for many days, with bleary eyes and dried vomit on his chin, chest, and sheets. His once muscular body is now gone: obese, flaccid, and grotesque. Laying next to him were two unconscious doxies, uncovered.
"Father! Father! Wake up, you sot!" Picking up a pillow, throwing it at his Da, and hitting his head."
"Wha? Who's there? Who's there? Who are you? I'm the King. Get out! Lettered! Lettered! Get in here, now!"
"Letred won't be coming in, Father."
Stunned, his Father attempted to sit up several times before he managed it. Virion quickly looked away as none of the bed's occupants wore clothing. "For the goddesses' sake, get rid of the doxies and put some clothes on." Virion leaves the room, slamming the door.
After the two guests leave and the King gets dressed, Virion re-enters and sits opposite his Father.
"Why? Why didn't you tell me about Mother's passing? Why? Didn't you think I had a right to know?"
"Who are you? Virion? Is that you? What are you doing here? I thought I sent you away."
"You did. You sent me away because you became jealous of Mother's affection for me. You became jealous of your son."
"You stole her from me. She loved me first. She loved me most, and you took that away from me. You stole her away. You deserved to be sent away to die. Why didn't you die there? I hate you. I hate you. I wish with my whole heart you were dead!" Sobbed the King uncontrollably.
Virion was stunned. He had never seen so much hateful, raw emotion before. He backed away from the bed to the door and felt for the door latch. Before his Da could say anything else, he left. He was vowing never to return.