In which Steve gets an awesome line
Chapter 10 -Not Your Typical Midgardians-
Silence fell throughout the hollow for nearly three hours before, at last, the elf shifted from his position. Steve sat with his back to the inner trunk, flanked on either side by the herb filled tegu caps Steve collected from the trees around them. He'd left the hollow no less than six times in the night in his need to collect more fresh water. Tony never moved from his position at Clint's side. Tony had hyperventilated numerous times from feeding the smoke with the billows of his breath. They traded places more times than Steve could count, but it was a long, torturous night for all of them. After it all, Tony sat up in his suit, fast asleep.
As the elf began to move, Steve leaned forward and shouldered some of Clint's weight. Four hands eased the archer down until his head rested on the ball of yehlen moss the elf had instructed Steve to find. Haladarrel looked up at the soldier with an air of exhaustion.
"I believe he may live." He whispered to Steve.
His words were never certain, and they did not exude the positivity Steve needed. He wanted to know that Clint was alive. That there was nothing wrong, and Clint would recover from this like he recovered from everything that befell him in life.
The elf stood in the cramped space of the hollow and angled beside Steve to get to the door. Fresh air was a welcome respite from the long sleepless night. Steve helped him to his feet, but as he moved, the elf's legs began to collapse. His body pitched forward, and Steve barely reached him before the elf found himself sprawled flat. With Rogers beneath him, he limped toward the door. Steve reached out and pulled the hollow open, but at the elf's indication, he slowly dropped the outrider at the door frame.
"Midgardians are fragile." He whispered, not wishing to disturb the sleeping pair across from them. "I forget how fragile."
The soldier retrieved a tegu cap of water and returned with it. He held it out for the weak elf to take, yet it was obvious he hadn't even the strength for that. Steve held it to his lips and allowed him to drink. his voice was harsh and dry from his whispered songs.
"It is all that can be done. I confess I can do no more." He went on after sipping the fluid.
"I think you did enough." Steve told him.
"If only I had found you sooner. You made a fast distance on foot. With a man injured as he was, I still had the challenge of overtaking you. It was not until you stopped here in Faramir I had hope of catching up. If only it was sooner."
Steve set the tegu cap aside. "We weren't alone out here. We've been chased by every other thing that lives in this forest. You're the first one that's come along we didn't need to run from. He's doing better now, we owe that to you. I think it is safe to say you've earned my trust. I know Tony would agree."
The elf leaned against the arch of the oak door, casting an eye toward the sleeping Stark. "Tony?" he asked.
"I guess we really never did introduce ourselves." He held out a hand. "Captain Steve Rogers."
The elf looked at the offered hand for a moment, wondering what he was supposed to do with it. It must have been some Midgardian greeting he was unfamiliar with. "Haladarrel Bywater. I know little of the customs of Midgardians."
The hand retracted. "Forget it. The sleeping guy is Tony Stark. He has precious few friends in the world, and one of them is Clint. We didn't exactly leave Earth on the best of terms with each other. Tony blames himself for all this."
Haladarrel nodded. "So it was made known to me in your absence."
Before Steve spoke again, the slow hum of the waking forest was interrupted by the blast of a horn. Rogers leaned to his right to look outside. No doubt some animal or other was disgruntled out there, and wanted the whole of the world to know it. He considered sliding the door shut in case this one proved just as unfriendly as the others they had encountered.
"More Southlings, no doubt." Haladarrel whispered.
"That was a man?"
"Not a man, an Elvin clan of sorts. They have tracked you nearly as closely as myself. I left false trails in my wake, but they will be upon us if they ride to faralirs." Haladarrel moved to stand again, but Steve placed a hand on his shoulder and forced him back. He was very surprised with the force of the gentle shove. In a way, it was as if he pressed against a brick wall.
"They're riding giant cats with antlers if that's what you're asking. And they've had us pinned down since the minute we dropped out of the Bifrost. I need you to sit. You're the only one of us who knows what they're doing with Clint. If he takes a turn, I need you conscious. I'm going out to scan the area and cover some trails. When I come back, I'll bring in your weapons. Don't move." Steve commanded.
With the last order leaving the impression of a warning rather than a request, Steve left through the door and shut it behind himself. Haladarrel had to admit that he underestimated these Midgardians. He had no doubt in his mind the man could go out and track well enough to lay some false trails, and, at that, take care of himself should he run into a scout or two. So in the solace that followed his exit, Haladarrel cast his eyes about the tiny hovel.
The iron suited man, Stark, remained upright and deep in his sleep without any sign of rising. Clint, Haladarrel had difficulty referring to his charge by such common terms, was at ease. He breathed steadily on his own now without inspiration from another. His body was healing, slowly, but effectively. Despite the horn blows of the coming line of assassins, they were in relatively fair shape. Haladarrel must decide how he could take the three men out of Woodrenkell and back toward Lakeheed or Earthenden. Heading to the coast and hiring a ship in Outer Glencove seemed most appropriate. That still meant there were near twenty leagues of thick forest between them and that coast. It was not a prospect he liked.
Haladarrel yawned, allowing his head to rest against the frame at his back. He was so very tired, from the great journey he left behind and the one still lying before him. He decided it was best to take the captain's advice and rest while the opportunity presented itself.
:(:):(:):
Most of the day had already sunk away when Haladarrel's eyes opened again. The soldier was lying across from him along the curved wall, with a pile of yehlen moss cushioned beneath him. Stark had changed shape again, the metal suit sat beside him like a life form of its own, while the man once hidden within sat unmoved from his friend's side. The poultice was new.
"He seems better." Stark said when he noticed the elf's eyes upon him.
"I felt the fever fall away from him in the night." Haladarrel replied.
"I don't know what you said to him." The man went on. He had a way of seeming to speak to himself despite holding a conversation with another. "I didn't understand any of the words, but they helped. That shouldn't have worked. It doesn't make any sense."
Haladarrel leaned forward, rubbing a hand across his face. He explained, "They are old verses. King Rinon mentioned the Brother of Asgard was familiar with some Elvish."
"He's been here and Asgard more than the rest of us, save Thor." Tony said.
"Perhaps he knew enough to follow my words without me being too forceful over him. I'm an Outer Glencove elf. We have a close relationship to the water and wind. When I command something to breathe, it has no choice. It must do it." Haladarrel said.
"Is that why Rinon sent you?"
"One of the reasons, yes."
A distant sound interrupted them, sending both men's eyes toward the wood door as Haladarrel's pointed ears pricked forward. The blare was a deep bellow at first, and then it rose into a sharp high thrill that lasted nearly a full minute. It ended slowly as the sharp note lowered more and more until they heard it no more.
"In the last three hours it's gotten louder and closer." Tony said to him. "They're as relentless as athlete's foot, and twice as annoying."
Haladarrel continued to stare toward the doorway for a few moments longer. Once sure no one was coming through after them, he crawled to Clint's side to check over the unconscious patient.
"That is the Kyalya horn of the hunter Ge'elaphi. And if he is in these woods, it can only spell trouble. "
"Will he find us here?"
"Undoubtedly. Faramir is well known in the Elven Clans, even in the Wild South where Ge'elaphi hails. He will know a Midgardian has taken refuge here in the past. And once they find this oak, they will raid it. We must move."
"Can we even move Clint in this condition?"
"That is what I am about to ascertain." Haladarrel indicated the sleeping Steve. "You best wake your friend. That horn was closer than I like. If the Southlings are indeed running with faralirs as he claimed, then we do not have much time to get out before they catch our scent."
"I can tell you first hand they are." Tony replied. He shifted from his cramped position, and worked his way over to Steve.
Haladarrel turned the archer's face toward his and slowly looked him over. He was no healer, though he knew enough of the arts to at least make him eligible for the quest of finding the Midgardians. The man was still pale. While the elaren cure could work miracles on extracting the venom from his body, it could do little to replace the blood that had been lost. He would be weak for some time until his body had a chance to recover itself. Beneath his poultice, the rotting flesh was slowly being stripped away from him. The man could do with a good visit to an Asgardian healing chamber, but given the rise in tensions, that option was mostly lost to them. As Haladarrel peeled the tacky mixture out of his wound, the archer grimaced. Clint's eyes opened when Haladarrel packed a fresh paste of herbs in.
"Ow." He whispered through blood tinged lips.
"Goheno nin." Haladarrel told him. "Le suilon. I am Haladarrel Bywater, a king's outrider of Outer Glencove."
"Pedin edhellen." I speak Elvish. Clint replied. "I only speak some . . .edhellen, though."
"The common tongue is just as well." Haladarrel said.
Tony returned after shaking Steve to his senses. It figured the minute he moved away that Clint woke up. In a way, he wanted to grab the archer's hand. But that would have been strange between them, and most likely alarm the archer more than put him at ease.
"Hi, you big idiot. What? Did Hell decide to throw you back?" Tony asked, hiding the internal joy at seeing his friend more or less back in the land of the living.
"All dogs go . . . to heaven, Tony. My arm?" His eyes slid closed again.
"No one took it. I promised that, didn't I? I always keep my word."
"No you . . . don't."
"Well, this time I did. You're going to be ok."
Clint grimaced at Haladarrel's inspection of his exit wound.
Haladarrel said, "I am keeping this tended. It is troublesome, I fear. I am sorry it cannot be easier for you."
"Not dead's a bonus." Clint pointed out optimistically.
Hearing him attempt a joke nearly brought a grin to Tony's face. "You're going to have some good stories out of this little venture."
"Not working on a . . . biogr- you know."
"Maybe you should. Dark Days of the Poor and Archer."
As Steve was fixing his shirt, Tony assisted in supporting Clint's arm while Haladarrel finished his inspection of the archer's back. Another blast of Ge'elaphi's horn blew. It was still distant, but any trained ear could tell it was getting closer. The three stopped to listen to its haunting crescendo.
"That's a kyalya horn." Clint whispered, claiming their attention. "What do they hunt?"
"You, apparently. Don't you remember?" Tony said grimly. Over his shoulder, he addressed Steve. "We've got to move."
Steve nodded and began to gather their few belongings.
"We are fortunate. I did not meet them along the journey to Woodrenkell. We have the benefit of their not knowing I am here to lead you out." Haladarrel placed the leftover healing herbs back into the tegu cap, and washed his hands in the remaining water.
"Outer Glencove?" Clint asked. His mind wasn't clear, that much was painfully obvious to his friends.
"Yes, Outer Glencove. I am an outrider."
"We need to make it to the coast." Clint said, attempting to get up. Haladarrel held a hand against him to keep him down.
"We shall. The royals are in Earthenden. We must take a ship from the coast and meet there. It is imperative to get you out of Alfheimr. Despite the illustrious fame you surely entertain, it has come to my attention that the sole reason to have you here is to see to your death. It is something I would prefer to avoid."
"Where's Tasha?" Clint asked.
Tony spoke softly. "She's back home. She's fine. We'll go see her and everyone when this is all over. How's that sound? We'll slip a cell phone into Thor's pocket again and watch him freak out."
Clint nodded his head only slightly, but his strength began to fail. Before long, he slipped back into unconsciousness again. Haladarrel let him go. It was better to let him have his rest. They still had a long journey ahead of them.
"We can form a skid to take him in. There lie twenty leagues between the coast and Faramir. It will be a difficult run."
"I'll carry him." Steve said, placing the star shield on his back.
"It will be an arduous expedition." Haladarrel replied skeptically.
To dispel his concerns, Steve leaned down and effortlessly lifted Clint into his arms. The archer never awakened and, in fact, seemed contented in the position he'd slowly grown accustomed to.
Haladarrel's eyebrows came together in a peak. "Midgardians are a truly advanced race. Nothing like the weakness I have been instructed of."
"We're not your typical Midgardians. We're the Avengers." Steve told him.
Some may have noticed the name "Faramir" it is intentional. more explanations to come. then of course there is this:
Next time: Searching for a Hobbit Hole
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