Disclaimer: We do not own Lord of the Rings, or any of the characters, places, etc. that are part of it. We do, however, own Andre and Meric, whom we take full credit for.

Author's Note: Finally! The story I've wanted to write since I first started posting here! Reviews are lovely and criticisms are welcome!

Blood and Daggers

Chapter 1-Taking Risks

Meric paced along the dark alley street, every once in a while impatiently running a slim hand through his stark white hair. Pausing a few feet from the entrance to the alleyway that led onto the main street, Meric studied the few people that were up and about at this late hour. Cloaked travelers passed now and then, sometimes alone, and sometimes-in groups of twos or threes. Meric pulled his cowl over his head, completely obscuring his blindingly bright hair that made him an easy target for the assassins and cutthroats that dominated the streets during the night.

Eglatier, a city known mostly for its housing of the largest assassins guild in the south, was dangerous enough during the day. To bring attention to one's self during the night would almost definitely earn you a knife in the back. Meric had lived in Eglatier for nearly five years now, and, while he did hold a high rank in the assassin's guild, he had gained his position by never taking any chances.

Pulling his cloak tighter around him, Meric growled inwardly. He was late, as usual. No doubt he had gotten himself into trouble over something stupid. Grinding his teeth, he edged toward the main street, deep brown eyes scanning left and right anxiously. Presently, a broad-shouldered man came stomping down the street, muttering loud enough to wake the dead, or so Meric thought. The few people who passed the man by glanced at him curiously, then shrugged and went on their way. If someone wanted bring every pickpocket in the city down upon them, well that was their business. And in Eglatier, you were smart to mind your own, and leave others to their own fate.

Rolling his eyes at the man's antics, Meric quietly crept up behind him as he passed the alley's entrance. Sliding a thin, wicked-looking dagger from his belt, he moved, almost faster than the mortal eye could see, and brought the dagger up to his throat, stopping just short of exposed flesh. The man stopped suddenly; had he moved even an inch further, the dagger would have bit deeply into his throat, most likely killing him instantly.

Then man seemed quite unconcerned about his near death experience, however, and chuckled softly.

"Very well, Meric. Point taken. I'll be more quiet next time." He said, low enough so that only Meric could hear him. Meric smiled beneath his cowl, and quickly took the dagger from the man's throat, and sheathed it.

"I'm glad you catch on quickly; next time you won't find me holding a knife to your throat." He said, crossing his arms over his chest, as the man turned around grinning broadly. The two looked at each other for several moments before both moved forward and embraced, both grinning like fools.

"It's great to see you again, Andre." Meric said letting out the little warmth he harboured to greet his best friend, and long time companion.

"Well, elf, I have to admit, I missed you too." Andre beamed, flicking back Meric's cowl to reveal his pointed ears. Meric scowled and readjusted his hood. Being an elf in Eglatier was not a good thing at all. Andre just shook his head; his dark brown, almost-black hair becoming messier than it already was, if that was even possible. And hair colour wasn't the only thing that made the two unlikely friends.

Both were around the same height, Meric being short for an elf, and Andre being tall for a Man. Meric's eyes were deep brown, and serious, making him appear to always be deep in thought, while Andre had dark blue laughing eyes, that caused quite a few people to think he was mocking them, even on the rare occasion when he wasn't.

"So, I'll take the bait. Why are you so ... upset?" Meric asked pulling Andre into the alley where he had been in order to avoid anymore notice.

"No reason." Andre shrugged, brushing off the subject. "Just the usual. Guy didn't like how I was looking at him, made me mad, punched him in the nose, started a riot. Nothing new."

"Ah." The elf said, rolling his eyes. "And will this fight be the talk of the town like that one you started in Veduimir? Let me think. Ah yes, that fight caused a political uproar, and a rebellion that left the inhabitants with no food for the winter. Normally, the fact that a mere human pulled off such a feat would astound me, but I've found that nothing you do is surprising."

Andre burst out laughing. "What would you have me do? The man had insulted my mother!"

Raising his eyebrows, Meric frowned. "You call far too much attention to your self. Attention we do not need! Especially here."

"Alright, alright! Calm down, my friend. No more tavern brawls." Andre said, raising his hands up in defense, but still grinning. "So, do we have an assignment, or what?"

"At the moment? No." Meric said softly, then paused looking around to see if someone was listening, then leaned forward and lowered his voice. "You know that Dagnirion has the gift of foresight."

"A rumour only. There's no truth in it!" Andre protested. The possibility that the master of the assassin's guild could look into the future was frightening; many feared Dagnirion, and not just because he headed the guild.

"Not foresight like that of the elves, or wizards. I do know that he's dabbled in some of the Dark Arts, and scrying into the future isn't as difficult as its made out to be." Meric said, quietly. "Anyway, it appears that he foresaw that we would be of some use to him in the near future. He did not say who we were to take out, but I suspect he knows."

"The two of us? Together?" Andre asked, suspiciously. "Something doesn't ring true here."

"Would you like to disobey a direct order from Dagnirion? Or need I remind you of what happened to Mundo?"

Andre blanched as he recalled what Dagnirion had done to the Mundo, a man who had refused an assignment once. Unfortunately, both Meric and Andre had both been present for his ... execution.

"I wasn't thinking about refusing. I have a bad feeling about this." Andre muttered, nervously glancing around into the deep shadows.

"So do I." Meric said, absentmindedly, and then focused back on Andre. "But we haven't a choice. All I was told is that we would be needed for an assignment, and to stay in the city until we are summoned."

Andre sighed. "Alright. Let's just hope we get those summons soon. I want to get out of this city."

Meric grinned wryly. "Why? You didn't kill that man in the tavern back there?"

"Actually, I was worried about the man's wife. Apparently she doesn't take kindly to her husband getting beaten." He pause, and looked thoughtful. "Or perhaps it was the wife I punched? The two looked so much alike I couldn't tell them apart!"

Chuckling softly, the two headed out down the street, slipping into shadows, and becoming one with the night.

---

"So this town, Eglatier, houses an assassin's guild?" Aragorn asked, Faramir in disbelief. Faramir looked up, having been fully focused in his work, when Aragorn had come barging in, asking him about something that just about everyone in Minas Tirith knew. Faramir sighed. Yes, Aragorn was his king, and he liked the man very much, but his naivety to the complex political struggles that most of the peasants understood was completely aggravating.

"What was that?" he asked as Aragorn strode forward, slamming a map of the lower regions of Ithilien on top of a still-drying piece of parchment. Well, there goes that document. He thought sarcastically. Nothing important. Just the costs of the renovations for the east section of the city.

"One of my advisors has just informed me that a large assassin's guild is located in this town. Why was I not informed of this immediately?" he demanded. Faramir sighed.

"My lord," he said patiently, as if explaining something to a child. "We are well aware of this guild; it's been around for nearly as long as Minas Tirith!"

"Then why hasn't this problem been solved long ago?" Aragorn asked, heatedly. "Or is keeping a killer home around some insane Gondorian tradition?"

"Please, Aragorn, let me explain." Faramir continued. "This guild has been headed by long line of powerful lords. And still is. To attack this town, or something of the sort, would cause a political upheaval, and maybe even a rebellion. Dagnirion is well liked by most of the nobles, and he has friends in high places. No, you most likely wouldn't lose such a battle, but is that what you want so soon after Sauron's reign? And even if that wasn't so, you'd lose a lot of support of the people."

"But we can't just let them run loose!" Aragorn protested. "There must be something we can do!"

"Nothing that wouldn't cause massive blood shed and/or rebellion. Believe me when I say that attacking Eglatier is pointless." Faramir said, calmly, turning back to his paperwork. Aragorn had indeed ruined his document, and now he would have to start it all over again.

Aragorn fumed, attempting to think up a solution, but he knew that his Steward was right. There really was nothing he could do. He grinned suddenly as inspiration struck him.

"Legolas is to be arriving any day now, correct." Aragorn asked Faramir.

"You know that more than I do, my lord." Faramir replied. "Why?"

"What if Legolas and I visited Eglatier and tried to find a way to stop it. Maybe there's a weakness on the inside we could tweak or something." He said, beginning to pace as ideas bubbled up. Faramir spun around and stared at him in disbelief.

"Are you completely mad?" he said, his voice nearly rising to a shout. "Not only would the two of you be found out, but killed as well. King of Gondor or no."

"Legolas and I have done this sort of thing before. I do not want this guild around so long as I am king." Aragorn protested, unconcerned. Faramir threw up his hands in defeat. Aragorn hadn't even been in Gondor for a year, and already Faramir knew that when he adopted his I'm-not-listening- to-a-word-you-say tone that he was completely unmovable. Like a stupid boulder, Faramir thought wryly. Or a donkey.

Grinning, and apparently pleased at getting his way, Aragorn strode out of the room leaving Faramir behind.

"The council will never allow it!" He called out to Aragorn's retreating figure. Aragorn turned grinning mischievously at the Steward.

"Not if they don't know about it!" He called back, his smile broadening. "Good day, Faramir." He then continued down the hall, humming a tune as he disappeared around a corner. Faramir sank back into his chair, fully annoyed.

"Why me?" he wondered aloud. "What did I do to deserve such treatment?"

---

Yay! First chapter finished! The second chapter should be up by tomorrow, but if it's not, sorry! Read and Review, please!