And the meandering begins... :p One day, I might just be able to sit down and write something where I don't feel the need to write reams and reams of character exposition!

Until that day, however... (grins sheepishly)

Chapter Two

Closing the heavy wooden door and locking it securely behind them, Caelan closed his eyes momentarily and ran a hand through his dark hair before spending a moment instructing Bear to watch the door as if his life depended on it and stalking away with Ellie and Bran in tow.

Glowering slightly that he had been the one picked to take the first watch with little else to do but sit by the door and stare at the opposite wall, the barbarian peered into the now darkened brig and watched briefly as their drow prisoner stooped down to pick up his weather-stained cloak from the floor and drape it once again about his obsidian shoulders before settling himself silently in the corner of his prison. Sighing and running a hand over his bald pate, Bear then hunkered down upon the floor, slung his greataxe over his knees, took the corner of his tunic in one hand and began to clean the bladed, intricately engraved head of his weapon in an attempt to stave off the inevitable boredom he knew he would be experiencing before long, given the current entertainment options.

It only took a short while for the Northman to grow tired of his polishing; for all his laggardly attitude towards his own personal hygiene, he kept his weapon scrupulously clean at all times, his personal philosophy being that whilst a dirty tunic had never killed anyone, a badly maintained weapon most certainly had. Propping his axe up almost lovingly before him against a thick baulk of timber that served as a main supporting strut for one of the schooner's masts, Bear glanced up at the barred door wearily, folded his arms over his chest, slouched down against the curved wall of the ship and yawned mightily, the ale he had consumed earlier on all of a sudden making him feel decidedly sleepy.

Hearing the distant cry of the men above board, the barbarian felt the ship lurch forwards suddenly; opening one eye, Bear shifted his weight slightly in an attempt to make himself slightly more comfortable and tried to force himself to stay awake as he wondered exactly what he was going to do with all the gold this job would bring him.

o0o

Testing one of the flimsy-looking rope hammocks that hung like huge webs from the ceiling of their sparse cabin, Ellie scrambled agilely up, quickly settling herself upon her side and forced herself to stifle a giggle as Bran managed to flip himself out of his own rope bed for a third time.

"For Mask's sake..." the wizard muttered under his breath, picking himself up from the floor yet again before trying to flatten out the hammock with one hand and steady himself against the ship's planked hull with another. "Exactly how's any bugger supposed to actually get into one of these, eh?"

"Quite easily, actually," Caelan sneered in response, as he settled himself easily within the hempen sanctuary of his own makeshift bed. "It really is just a case of mind over matter."

Muttering under his breath, Bran offered the assassin a poisonous look. "Easy fer you to say..."

Leaning over the edge of her hammock, all the while being careful not to tip herself out, Ellie grinned down at the half elf who had stationed himself beneath her. "Five gold says he ends up sleeping on the floor."

Smiling slyly back up at her, Caelan winked. "Okay... you're on."

Offering them both a withering look, the wizard stood up, planting both his hands upon his hips, the stance sharply reminding the rogue of an old Luskan fishwife.

"It's not funny!" the wizard whined petulantly. "These thing's are a bugger to get into!" He waggled one finger at Ellie. "You'll be sorry if I fall out and break me neck halfway through the night..."

Snorting, Caelan shook his head. "Please believe me when I say 'no we wouldn't', Bran." The assassin then sat up, his demeanour all of a sudden serious. "By Meren's estimation, this crossing should take about four days; after that, about two tendays give or take to make it to Westgate. In the meantime, we need to set up a rota – we can't leave our dear guest unwatched."

"So we have to watch him at all times?" Ellie asked. "Why? He's locked up pretty securely..."

"And what happens if someone wanders down there and sees him? You know the superstitions attached to anything dark elven – and sailors are more superstitious than most. He'd be over the side before you could say 'huge bounty on his head; want a share?'; a fate, I am afraid to say, that may very well apply to us as well, since we've brought him on board. Therefore, not only do we need to make sure he says in, but also that the crew stays out." Caelan gave both his companions a significant look. "This is a delicate operation worth a vast amount of money to us all. Usually, I don't deal in bounties... but this one I deemed worth it, and therefore I have no intention of messing it up. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

Sharing a small, quick glance, both Ellie and Bran simply nodded by way of reply.

"Good," the assassin continued in a satisfied tone of voice. "Bran; you will relieve Ragnar. I will then relieve you. After that, Ellie will relieve me, and after that we start again."

"Oh, me next? Why? I'm knackered!" Bran continued to complain, once again beginning to fight with his hammock. "I can't even get into this bastard bed... soon as I get comfortable, I'm going to have to get back up again!"

Settling back, Caelan folded his arms over his chest and closed his eyes with a decidedly smug smile. "Such is life, Bran... such is life."

o0o

It didn't take long for Ellie to drop off to sleep; whilst it hadn't been a particularly trying day, it had been a long one, and along with the gentle rocking of the ship as they made their way out of Suzail's natural harbour, she soon found herself being lulled into the welcoming arms of slumber.

Awakening to the sound of someone whispering at her from the darkness and the caress of roughened fingertips against her cheek, she awoke abruptly, for a split second experiencing that exquisite moment of disorientation as she tried to figure out exactly where she was and why she had been roused whilst she unconsciously reached for her ankle, where, as a gutter rat, she had always strapped a hidden knife. Shaking her head to chase away the last, heavy traces of slumber from her sleep-fogged mind, she finally focused upon the figure of Caelan, who was smiling at her almost gently as he allowed his fingers to trail along her cheekbones and down the curve of her neck.

"Wake up, lokte," the assassin murmured, brushing a wayward lock of amber hair from her face. "I am afraid it is time for your part of our vigil."

Smiling a little, Ellie hauled herself upright, untangled herself from the rough blanket that covered her and carefully lowered herself from her hammock.

"How's it been?" she asked, picking up the tunic she had discarded earlier when she had felt her eyelids grow heavy and pulled it over her head. muffling her voice briefly.

"Boring," Caelan snorted. He held out something rectangular. "You might want this."

Frowning slightly, the rogue reached out and took what he offered; realising it was a book, she read the faded, flaked gold lettering that adorned its cracked spine. "A History of Waterdeep." She wrinkled her nose. "I don't think so..."

"Believe me, it's better than sitting down there, staring at the wall."

"The drow not giving us much trouble?"

The assassin shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. "I wasn't really expecting him to, to be honest – not here. It might be a different case once we're in the wilderness-"

"The wilderness?" Ellie asked all of a sudden, looking concerned.

Grinning Caelan nodded. "We can't exactly take him along the main road, my dear. I fully expect we'll be travelling by roads seldom trodden."

Rolling her eyes, Ellie wrapped her arms around herself and let out a low groan, which in turn made the half elf chuckle.

"I know you don't like those roads very much, Ellie, but in this case, we have little choice." He offered her a rare, genuine smile. "We're going to make a lot of money out of this; once we're done, we'll probably have enough to be able to go away for a while. We could go to Amn, or maybe Calimshan." The assassin then raised a hand and caught her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "Find adventure of a different kind."

Smiling in what she hoped was a grateful way, the rogue tried to ignore the slight sinking feeling she felt deep within her stomach at his words and nodded. "Yes; that would be nice."

Caelan then leant in and kissed her lightly. "It would indeed." Pulling back, he glanced around at the sleeping forms of the wizard and the barbarian. "We'd have to dump those two, of course... but until then, let us keep our minds upon our current mission." Letting go of her chin, the assassin straightened up. "And with that in mind... Bear will relieve you in a few hour's time. If you have any problems, just holler. Do you have any questions?"

Shaking her head, Ellie indicated that she didn't and, after retrieving a book and a small box of charcoal from her own backpack, the rogue left the small cabin and wandered along the narrow gangway to the brig, trying not to think about what might come to pass once this particular job was over.

o0o

Standing in front of the pitted yet stout door to their makeshift dungeon, Ellie clutched her books to her chest and considered the small, barred window was was set high in its upper half with an even mixture of trepidation and interest.

She had always been one for curiosity; no matter how many times she had found herself in trouble for indulging - whether it was the time she got her head stuck in a tree stump to the occasion when she accidentally turned herself green after stealing some pretty yet rather volatile alchemical components from the local apothecary - and so she was not surprised to find a part of her yearning to take a glimpse inside the dimly lit room and see exactly what the strange dark elf incarcerated inside was up to. Chewing on her bottom lip for a moment, she knew it was futile; the longer she sat there, no matter how hard she tried to entertain herself, her inquisitive side would keep nagging her until she at least took a peek and so, feeling for some bizarre reason a little apprehensive, she set her books upon the floor, tucked her hair behind her ears and, standing upon the tips of her toes, peered cautiously into the brig.

At first, she saw nothing; the light from the oil lamp swaying over head did not penetrate the shadows that collected within the small prison, and so she narrowed her eyes, squinting a little to see if she could discern anything at all. Finally, shapes began to coalesce from the gloom: the faint outline of a bucket; the dull, looping coil of a chain; the black upon black hint of what looked like a booted foot. Focusing upon this foot, she then carefully followed it upwards, trying to make out the silhouette of the dark elf, but it was, quite curiously, incredibly difficult, and the rogue found herself swallowing hard as she recalled the stories from her childhood that the drow could make themselves invisible at will, and in some cases, transform themselves into the very shadows they inhabited, causing her heart to flutter a little.

Suddenly, something shifted in the murk ahead, causing Ellie to take an involuntary step away from the door. Grinning to herself and shaking her head, she chastised herself for such a silly move; after all, exactly what was the drow going to do to her? He was hardly going to leap out of the shadows and begin torturing her for his own sadistic pleasure, regardless of what tales the old men who used to sit outside the taverns her mother used to work loved to spin for the assembled crowd of street urchins that would gather before them to listen in awe to their past adventures said. With this reasoning in mind, she stepped back to the door and peered once again into the room; this time, however, there was no mistaking where the dark elf sat, since he had unfurled himself from the corner where he had been residing and was now sat upon the thin bench directly opposite the door, regarding the barred portal with a detached sense of interest with one, glittering crimson eye.

Upon reflection later, what probably disturbed her the most wasn't the way the drow had managed to move from the corner to the bench with out once rattling his chains; there hadn't even been a hint of a soft chink of metal against metal in the scant few moments she had given him before glancing back into the room, lending weight to the rumour that the dark elves themselves were creatures solely comprised of shadow rather than flesh and blood, but rather the way he calmly watched her as she peered back into the room for a mere moment, deliberately catching her eye and holding it for a moment before she pulled back and settled herself, her heart all of a sudden quickening in her chest, upon the floor outside the door.

Usually, the loquacious rogue would have attempted to spark up a conversation out of sheer nerves – a habit that Caelan had tried to squash out of her over recent months, reminding her sternly that marks were marks, not people to sit and chat with – but there was something in that single red eye... not a malevolence, but more of a simple, almost amused curiosity that meant the nervous greeting she was about to afford him died upon her lips immediately.

Simply put, his attitude was not one of a man condemned to face the rather infamous and, indeed, rather terminal, brand of Dragon Coast justice in the near future.

Now sitting cross-legged upon the floor, Ellie opened the book Caelan had given her and ran her eye down the first page. Shaking her head in a bemused fashion, she flicked through more of the thin, neatly printed pages before setting the book down; even if she had been interested in the subject material, she couldn't read half the words – another thing that Caelan had tried to change about her, but had largely failed, mainly due to her own flitting attention span. At first, he had found her attempts to distract him from his teachings amusing – and largely gratifying – but after a while, he had grown weary of it all, not understanding that the rogue had little interest in the printed word, and it had ultimately ended up in their first proper argument, leaving Ellie with a black eye and Caelan with bruised knuckles and the book they had been reading together torn in two, its pages littering the floor like petals from a dying rose.

Pursing her lips in a bitter smile, Ellie mused that she probably should have realised that things weren't exactly perfect then... but at the time, she had been completely taken with the volatile half elf, and had forgiven him immediately. After all, it hadn't been the first time she had been left with a black eye by someone who purported to love her, and she had no doubt it would be the last.

Opening the second book, she flicked through a series of small, highly personal sketches before finding a clean page; opening the small box of charcoal sticks, she selected one that had been carved to a point and began to draw, taking solace in her own, considerable imagination. This was the only thing she wouldn't let Caelan touch - the one thing she kept from him - and therefore, over the last few weeks, it had become something of a haven for her; somewhere she could pour her heart out through the medium of charcoal and ink without having to say a word.

At first, she began to sketch out a seascape; thunderous clouds scudding above a wave-tossed boat, the foaming sea crashing all around it whilst lightning lanced down from the heavens, but the rogue soon found her attention sliding to the prisoner she was guarding once again, and soon found herself sketching out a single eye surrounded by pitch blackness and wondering once more exactly what it was he had done to warrant such treatment.

Murder, perhaps? It had to be really. Or maybe theft... some Lords valued possessions above life, after all – something she knew only too well, considering her own reasons for being in Cormyr rather than still living along the Sword Coast – and if he had stolen something of value that the Lord didn't want seized by the Purples, then it would explain the secrecy. Rape? Unlikely – although it was generally frowned upon to force yourself upon someone else, it was hardly treated as a hangable offence. Unless it had been a relative of the Lord in question, of course... a daughter, perhaps? A sister? Glancing back up at the door, Ellie set her charcoal down for a moment and cupped her chin in one soot-stained hand, leaving a black smear along the underside of her jaw.

Murder... theft... rape... what else? Political reasons?

At this thought, the rogue's stomach sank. If the tales were to be believed, the drow were as ruthless and sadistic in their politics as they were in everything else; the last thing she wanted – and, indeed, needed – was to get involved in something that led to political intrigue of any kind. Politics invariably led to authority figures, and they in turn inevitably led to the upholders of the law... and they were people Ellie had never particularly seen eye to eye with, and tended to do her best to avoid at any given time.

Okay – if not for political reasons...why else would someone pay for a bounty – and a handsome bounty at that – for a one eyed drow male?

And what was he doing so far away from home to be wanted by anyone in this way in the first place?

Frowning slightly, the rogue looked along the corridor for a second before glancing back up at the door, trying to squash down the urge to stand up, peer through the bars once again and ask this very question to its dark inhabitant. Shaking her head, she picked up her stick of charcoal once again, turned to a fresh page and began sketching once more, this time a detailed picture of a single flower, deliberately making herself concentrate upon something intricate to divert her mind from pondering the dark elf.

The activity diverted her attention for a good while until she realised one thing: all the petals she had lovingly rendered were a rich, deep black.

o0o

Feeling a rough nudge upon one shoulder, Ellie awoke with a jump and a slightly unladylike snort and blinked rapidly as she tried to focus upon the hulking figure hunkered down in front of her.

"Come on, lass... wake up an' be grateful it's me and not yer man comin' to wake ye," murmured a rough, deep voice.

Yawning mightily, the rogue stretched briefly and shifted her weight to try to relieve the numbness that had crept its way insidiously into her buttocks and lower back; feeling her extremities suddenly pop and fizz painfully as they fired back into life, she winced and hissed under her breath, cursing herself for falling asleep in such an uncomfortable position; although Ellie was rather good at entertaining herself in any given instance, even she had found her eyelids finally drooping after what seemed like an age of sitting outside the featureless oaken door to the point where she hadn't even realised she had fallen asleep.

Glancing guiltily up at the Bear, she struggled to her feet.

"Is everything all right?"

Bear shrugged his massive shoulders. "Yeah – any reason why it shouldn't be?"

Shaking her head to chase away the last, pink fuzziness of sleep from her mind, Ellie looked a little sheepish. "I was supposed to be on guard..."

The barbarian grinned. "Yeah... me too. Hard not to fall asleep down 'ere, though. Nowt to do. You should have 'eard the ear bending Caelan gave Bran – 'ee came down 'ere to find that damn fool wizard snorin' 'is 'ead off!"

The rogue grinned back. "Thank Mask for small mercies, aye?"

"Aye..."

Bear peered momentarily into the brig. "'Ee all right?"

Ellie shrugged. "I've not heard a peep out of him, to be honest," she answered quietly. "It's a bit creepy, actually... you look in, and all he does is watch you."

Ragnar's eyebrows rose a little. "'Ee watches you?" the barbarian's eyebrows then settled into a frown. "'Ee just faced the wall when I was lookin' in... no matter. We'll be shot of 'im soon enough." He looked back to Ellie. "Y'wanna go get yersel' sommat to eat? Mornin' now... I've 'ad sommat, and I know Caelan an' Bran were 'eadin' up on deck." The barbarian grinned evilly. "Since the wind picked up, Bran's been sick as a dog..."

Groaning, Ellie rubbed a hand over her face. "No... what is it with him? Stick him on a cart for more than half an hour and he's sick. I hope he's going to sleep away from us if he's going to spend his time heaving..."

"Heh, y'think Caelan'd let 'im in to where 'ee's sleepin' if 'ee's pukin' everywhere?" Bear grinned again. "Don't y'fret, lass." With that, the barbarian waved her away. "Off y'go, know. Go get yerself yer fill. It ain't much, but it's better than nowt."

Frowning up at the door, the rogue paused before leaving. "What about him? Should I fetch something for him?"

Laughing, Bear shook his head. "Swift, lass, yer too soft. 'Ee's a bloody prisoner - not a guest, me girl; Caelan'll sort out sommat for him given time. Right now, y'worry 'bout yerself, okay?" He then gave her an affectionate smile, which Ellie returned.

"Well... okay. If things get boring, I might be back later. See you."

"See y'in a bit, lass."

With that, the rogue gathered her books up, turned upon one heel and left.

o0o

After picking her way carefully back up the narrow stairs they had descended the night before, Ellie made her way to the more habitable parts of the schooner and found her other two comrades tucking into a frugal breakfast. Sitting herself opposite them, she helped herself to some flat bread, dried meat and an apple; after glancing around herself to make sure no one noticed her, she then filched an extra one and secreted it carefully up one sleeve as Caelan stood up and prepared to leave the table with a hunk of bread in one hand and a small pitcher of watered down beer in another.

Nodding graciously at his two companions, the half elf then left and made his way back down to their cabin – and ultimately, the brig – all the while whistling a bright tune under his breath.

Making his way carefully down the stairs, Caelan nodded briefly towards Bear, who was playing a round of Solitaire with a pack of dog-eared cards; nodding back, the barbarian said nothing as the assassin produced a pitted iron key from the inside pocket of the tunic he was was wearing and unlocked the door before entering the noisome depths of the makeshift prison. Taking a moment to allow his vision to adjust to the murk, he then closed the door behind him and turned back to regard the drow who was now sitting on the bench opposite, staring balefully at him.

In all honesty Caelan didn't care much what crimes the drow had committed; he had been told many conflicting things about the dark elf, but when it came down to it, he was nothing more to him than a sack of gold and jewels. That, however, didn't stop a cruel smile from curving his lips as he stepped forwards, the bread and beer in his hands.

"Good morning, sunshine," the assassin said quietly, his welcoming words diametrically opposing his sinister tone. "I hope you had a good night..."

Continuing to stare at him, the drow said nothing.

"So, we're keeping up the silent routine. are we?" Caelan continued to smile.

Again, the drow said nothing, just yawned a little pointedly and looked away.

Narrowing his eyes at this deliberate show of insolence, the assassin had to fight to keep his smile in place.

"I wouldn't be so dismissive of someone who has brought you breakfast..."

Still looking away, the dark elf leant back and hooked his manacled hands behind his head and once again remained silent.

Now feeling his temper rise, Caelan held out the jug of beer and tipped it slightly, letting its contents slowly trickle onto the floor.

"Oops..." he murmured, before allowing the bread to tumble from his hand and land in the soggy mess of beer and soiled straw. "Butter fingers..."

Sparing him nothing more than a bored glance, the drow sighed wearily.

Feeling something hot suddenly flare up within him at the lack of a reaction, the assassin strode furiously over to the the dark elf, raised a clenched fist and backhanded the other male heavily across the face, the single ring the half elf wore catching the prisoner upon one dark cheek, drawing blood.

Still the drow said nothing, his only concession toward this largely unprovoked attack being to unclench his own fists and glare menacingly back at Caelan as the half elf rubbed the back of his hand, nursing his now bruised finger where his ring was located.

Straightening himself up, the assassin stepped back, sneering at the prisoner. When it came down to it, he was not worth the time and effort; with this thought in mind, Caelan turned upon one heel and strode away, taking great care to rather pointedly grind the hunk of bread he had brought down to the drow under one boot heel as he left.

Watching him leave, the drow simply drew his legs up underneath himself and closed his eyes once again.