A glaring streak of lightning lit the sky over the city, accompanied by a deep grumbling roll of thunder that boomed and cracked before fading away; a cold steady rain pounded mercilessly on the city soaking everyone and everything. The streets were almost deserted: even the ever present homeless folks who usually gathered on the edges of the sidewalks were out of sight. Rivers of muddy water washed over the pavement as puddles collected around partially plugged sewers. No stars were visible in the inky sky; although none would've been visible even without the storm- the lights of the city outshone the stars on most days.
A lone car turned the corner, driving slowly through the rising water. The raindrops bounced harder off the black and white vehicle, making sharp pinging sounds and the red and blue flashing lights on top of the car could hardly be seen through the sheets of pouring rain. Inside the car, a man was squinting through the windshield, trying in vain to make sure that he drove on the correct side of the road as he eased forward. The heat was off to prevent the windows from fogging and the coffee in his cup was hours old and just as cold as the rain that inhibited his sight.
"God damn…" he muttered under his breath as he skidded through a particularly deep puddle, straining to see.
He picked up a little more speed. C'mon Damien, one more time around the block and you're free to go home…. He was coming off a particularly brutal double-shift. Two days earlier, his partner and several other officers had come down with the flu, leaving the station short staffed just in time for Anime Boston. The sudden influx of incoming traffic and questionable visitors had put a strain on all of the remaining healthy officers.
He turned another corner, trying to see the benches that he knew lined this street; they were popular with some of the homeless people for sleeping and whatnot even though sleeping on said benches was forbidden by the city and he had spent many nights rousing the benches' drowsy occupants. Of course, no one would be out on them in this weather anyways… Damien slammed on his brakes and finally took off his seatbelt, struggling to see through the never-ending torrents of water streaming over his windows.
Through the blur, he could see that someone or something was on the bench just outside his car! He stared for a moment, wondering why anyone would even want to sleep on the benches in this downpour. He didn't even want to leave the relative safety of his car, but he sighed in resignation and slowly opened his door.
The rain attacked him gleefully as soon as he emerged, tiny icy drops of moisture pervading his clothing. Within seconds he was utterly and completely drenched. Grumbling under his breath, he waded around the car and stepped into the puddle on the sidewalk, approaching the bench. Immediately his grumbling escalated.
"Damn cosplayers," he groused as he noticed the sleeper's strange garb and haircut.
The person on the bench was turned away from him. Long, blond, braided hair was stuck to some kind of cloak that the person wore…As Damien drew closer, he decided that despite the length of the hair, this was probably a man.
In any case, he reached out and shook the man's shoulder firmly. The man on the bench woke almost instantly and Damien stepped back as the man leaped to his feat.
"Alright mister, let's do this the nice way," he spoke loudly to be heard over the sharp pitter-patter of the rain, "We both know the laws, so you just be on your way and I'll be on mine, nice and easy."
"Nae! Estel?" the man's gaze whipped about wildly in worry.
"Easy there," Damien said, "I know your type and I don't care who you're cosplaying as. Now sir, I really would like to get home and I bet you would to so why don't you just move along now."
A small frown creased Damien's brow as he noticed the strange array of weaponry that the man was carrying. An authentic bow was slung across his back and Damien could see arrows peeping over his shoulder….Was that a knife?! Christ, these guys sure liked to dress up….
"im cuin, Legolas. Garo sidh."
Damien nearly leaped out of his skin as another man rose from behind the bench.
"Excuse me," Damien's voice was a bit louder and higher now, "I am a Boston police officer asking you to vacate the area. If you do not comply I will have to call for backup and remove you by force."
The two men looked at him blankly, clearly not understanding and he sighed in exasperation. They had spoken a different language….maybe Spanish?
"Hola," he began, "Me hablo español. Vosotros habláis español?"
There was no response and the men only looked more confused. Damien sighed again, running a hand through his wet hair and wondering why he was bothering. After all, in this rain, no one would notice these two men and like as not, they'd be gone by the time it let up. Still, he felt honor bound as a Boston police officer…. He almost yelped in surprise as another dark head popped up.
"En firen lammen common tongue," the newest addition piped up and Damien took another involuntary step back.
This one was much smaller than the other two, but he still unnerved the police officer. Where could they be coming from?! He strained his eyes, trying to see if there were any more figures lying about. The two men with the first one were also strangely armed and he eyed them with trepidation.
"Ai Pippin, your lingual skill is improving," the second man said, "But I think perhaps your talking should be kept to a minimum at the moment."
"Look, I don't know who you guys are but I think it's time for you to scram."
All of the courtesy and professionalism in Damien's voice was replaced with the cold, harsh sound of a slightly frightened police officer (who was really wishing that he had never stopped here and had gone right on home).
"What? What's going on?" as yet another head appeared, Damien beat a hasty retreat to his car.
These men…they were too strange. Even today, when most of the people in this district were dressed up as fictional characters, these guys were just too out-of-place. He couldn't quite figure out why he felt this way, but it was a gut feeling and if there was anything he had learned as a cop, it was to go with his gut. He slammed his car door shut and reached for the radio between the driver and passenger seats.
"This is Patroller 7 to HQ, repeat, Patroller 7 to HQ, I've got a growing group of suspicious characters, code green, about halfway down Parker Ave West, over."
"HQ here, are you sure Patroller 7?"
"Absolutely."
"Patroller 7 this is the boss and it's frigging pouring, as I'm sure you know. I'll send you two cars for backup, but this better not be another false alarm or there'll be trouble. You clear on that?"
"Clear as a bell, sir. Patroller 7, out."
Damien settled back in his seat to wait, running callused fingers over the ridged metal butt of the gun on his belt. He drew it onto his lap, watching the group outside his car. The original two men were talking, looking concerned and confused, but the third stranger was watching him intently, staring through the windows of the patrol car. Damien fingered the safety catch on his gun for a moment before clicking it off.
Kay…so this isn't my first fanfic, but it is my first story for LOTR. Before there are any comments: I know the Sindarin sucks. I am just barely beginning to learn the language so I will definitely be going back to edit what they say once I understand it better. If anyone can help me, that would also be great.
Translations and explanations:
Anime Boston is a manga convention where a lot of manga/anime readers/watchers and manga artists convene and spend a day buying, reading, and selling their merchandise. It is also common for people to come dressed as their favorite characters (aka cosplaying).
Damien's Spanish: Hello, I speak Spanish. Do you people speak Spanish?
Any and all reviews are welcome, although if you feel inclined to flame I simply request that you also leave a piece of constructive criticism (aka, I prefer not only to be told that my story sucks, but also to be told WHY it sucks).
pendragoness