The Fellowship of DaVinci and Alchemist.

The night was clear and was revealing itself in its full glory. Parisian nights always put up their best displays, showing off their wares to hundreds and thousands of hungry customers who gaze at the open splendors of the Champs Elysees or the Arc De Triomphe or pray at the Notre Dame or those who sit on the road side cafes at Rue de Rennes enjoying their croissants, blissfully unaware of the once embedded sniper bullet some distance to their right near the eternal flame. It was the same, that night too for nearly all the out-of-towners except one.

He was absolutely disinterested in the Crazy Horse or the Lido or beautiful Rue Du Faubourg Saint Honore or the Eiffel Tower’s sparkling reflection over the Seine. Only the thing in front of him held his attention. He was on his knees and praying in front of a huge inverted pyramid. One thing he knew for sure, no one was looking at him. He knew for certain everyone had closed their books and wondering “Well that was one pot-boiler”. Some were going over the controversial part once again and absorbing the legend, some were measuring their arm lengths and calculating whether that ratio was Phi or not, some were thinking “Man the movie sucked big time..sheesh what a rip-off”. Whatever it be the man knew he was alone.
He knew he had to act fast. The Louvre was an imposing structure all around him. There could be someone behind the curtains watching him. He had to take this chance though. He bent down more and knocked on the small pyramid jutting through the museum floor. An echo called back. So, he thought, there really is a hollow chamber beneath. It was very exciting. He again thought of the quirk of fate, because of which he finally was here. The universe really conspired for him to get him what he desired the most. He took out a staff and knocked on the glass. He waited, but nothing happened. The glass was as stubborn as the silica crystals in it. Then it hit him, the chamber was not going to open till he had said the words. Robert Langdon tried to remember the words. He spoke softly, “ Mellon....Felon....Cello....Alo.....Gelo” But the glass was unmoved. Then it hit him and he said slowly, “ Bellon” and the glass parted with a clean finish and revealed a circular staircase going down into the dungeon. The air from below smelled fresh, Langdon was surprised. It felt like someone had recently opened the chamber. But how could that be ? Did the late curator used to go in to dust the place ? He moved down slowly, testing each step, putting his weight gingerly and uncomfortably wondering for an answer. The air started getting a little heavy with lingering smell of Axe Voodoo. So it is some man who was here before him, the sharp and analytical brain of Langdon thought.
After going about 5 floors down, Langdon rounded a corner and saw a sight he could never forget for the rest of miserable next 130 pages he was going to survive. Strewn in front of him on the floors instead of the sarcophagus were fish bones which read out “ PRECIOUSSS IS LOST…*Gollum Gollum”

What in the freaking blistering barnacles thought Langdon. And as he was swearing he never saw the blow coming down from behind. As he fell down, he heard someone speak with a thick Scottish accent, " So this Langdonnaa, not much of a man is heaa ? Bloody Yankeeeaa" and then another voice, Langdon couldn't quite place it though it was faintly similar, he heard it say " You got you man Davy mayte, lets talk abt me ship now...savvy ? " and Langdon slipped into sweet unconsciousness.


To be continued……