Hello and thanks to LegolasLover2003, Artista321 and DaHybridQueen for the reviews. I love hearing from you and knowing you are still with me make me feel all warm and fluffy inside!
Thanks also to anyone else still here. It's much appreciated.
I have re written this chapter i don't know how many times to try to get it right. Flinn kept insisting he got his story out there no matter how hard I tried to get him to be quiet so I'm sorry if he seems to be going on a bit but I promise it wont be too much longer before all the pieces come together. (Unless anyone else decides they have something to say of course!)
Chapter 48
Awareness comes slowly once more as the young prince stares up at the ceiling overhead. He is alone and for this he is thankful as he tries to gather his thoughts into some sort of order. He knows he should not be here, yet somehow draws comfort from the fact that his friends have not deserted him even though he has tried so hard to push them away. A sigh escapes his lips and he eases himself into a sitting position. As much as he would love to remain in this peaceful moment he is aware that he must move, his life is no longer his own and no matter how much his friends and comrades may wish it, death will find them all if he remains here.
His gaze travels around the room finally alighting upon the heap of clothes resting on a chair beside the door. His bow and quiver lean in alert readiness against the same chair. Taking a deep breath he pushes himself to the edge of the bed until his feet find the floor and he rests for a moment, a little perturbed by the racing beat of his heart caused by such a minimal movement.
Steeling himself against the pain he rises to his feet and for a moment sways drunkenly before regaining his equilibrium. Moving slower than he would like, he places one foot carefully infront of the other to inch across the room towards his goal, never taking his eyes from the objects he coverts, almost as if willing them to move toward him and shorten the distance he must take.
By the time he reaches the chair his legs are trembling with effort and it is only his strength of will that is keeping him upright. He looks back towards the bed longingly. What bliss it would be to slip back under the covers and lay cocooned in its soft embrace, but this can not be and he tears his eyes away once more and brings his concentration to bear upon the challenging task of getting himself dressed.
.
Four faces stare in mounting horror at the man seated before them. Flinn has taken his instruction to start at the beginning to heart and has just finished recounting the tale of how he met Draeg in a city jail, after being caught, stealing a loaf of bread to fill the void that had been growing in his stomach for three days since his elder brother had been killed in a tavern brawl. The older man had taken him under his wing and once released he had gladly followed this new friend with silver tongued promises of wealth and power beyond his wildest imaginings.
He proves to be an adept pupil and soon Draeg has his light fingers picking up more than stale bread and scraps. He learns how to relieve the unwary of their purses and merchants of their goods from under their very noses without them even percieving his presence. Shadows and nooks become his friends as he learns to blend in, and wait, unmoving, becoming almost unnoticable, until his drunken target passes within a hairs breadth and his small club falls to render the victim insensible before being relieved of anything of worth.
Oh yes. He is a very good pupil indeed and soon his teacher decides he is ready to learn the biggest secret of all. The key to gaining everything he wishes. By this time he has the younger man in the palm of his hands, willing to comply with anything he may suggest even pledging his life to ensure his silence and eventually introduces him to the shadowy figure he will know only as Master.
Flinns eyes briefly close as he remembers his first visit into the dark fortress to meet the mysterious stranger. He can still feel the mixture of excitement and apprehension as Draeg led him through the entrance and along the twisting, oppressive corridors, lit only sporadically by torches that appeared almost to suck in the light rather than issuing it. A visible tremor passes through his body as he recounts the way Draeg presented him to the tall figure standing swathed in dark robes, almost as if he were a gift. The nape of his neck prickles as he remembers colourless, piercing eyes that shone from under the cowled hood. Feels them boring into him once more, baring him to the core. Rifling through his thoughts like a scholar meticulously studying an interesting manuscript, leaving no part of his mind untouched, then pulling out and dismissing him as a simple tract not worth the effort. And shame again floods his body as he discerns he will never be any more than a dirty vagabond, not worthy to walk upon the same ground as this Lord.
"This is all very interesting I'm sure, but what has this to do with Legolas?"
The Ravens impatient question brings Flinn back to the present and he blinks in confusion for a moment before he recalls where he is and with whom.
"What?" he shakes his head and stares from one to the other of the twins unsure of which has spoken. "I'm gettin there," a frown of confusion creases his forehead. "You sed start at the beginnin' so I thought ..." his words trail off at the ferocity of the gaze Elrohir levels towards him.
"We do not need your pathetic life history, Adan." The younger twin almost snarls the words out and Flinn feels his stomach contents begin to rise. "Tell us about your plans for Legolas."
The man swallows and tastes bile as he stares into the merciless dark eyes levelled upon him and squirms like a worm on a hook, feeling almost as if he is back in his masters presence again. Yet although the eyes locked with his contain hatred and disgust they lack the cold, soulless horror contained within the others and for this he is thankful.
"Alright, alright," he whines out. "I thought it would 'elp yer, I thought as yer might know who 'e is so's yer would know why we dun wot we did." the words tumble over themselves in the frantic effort to leave his mouth as he tries desperately to hold back the fear building within.
"'Tis, fine Flinn." Estel shoots a warning glance at his brother then moves towards the man, speaking softly in an effort to calm the panic he sees rising in his eyes. "The more you can tell us, the more it will be of help in unravelling this mess."
The younger twin snorts with impatience and turns his head away, shaking it in disgust before looking back to his human brother.
"We have little time for meandering life histories Estel." The words sound sharper than he intends but worry makes him indifferent. "Our friend, your friend is lying in there," he flings out an arm, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the room to which the archer has been consigned, "battered and bruised, having just been brought back from the very door to Mandos Halls and I am expected to listen to this pathetic excuse of a man try to justify his part in it."
His usually melodic voice has gradually risen to a shout as emotions he has long fought to keep under control threaten to overwhelm his senses, releasing the dark Raven customarily reserved for their forays into battle.
"Legolas almost died Estel!" The words echo loudly around the room. An accusation as much as a statement. Freezing all movement within as well as that of the lone figure, standing unsteadily outside who has been drawn to sound like a moth to a flame, unwilling yet unable to pull away.
A loud sob rends the air and Elrohir suddenly collapses into his brothers waiting arms and it is as if a dam has burst within him at the realisation of the words he has just uttered. Tears stream down cheeks previously flushed with anger as the catharsis hits hard.
"It.. almost.. happened ..again 'Dan..." whispered words push past the sobs as his brother holds on tight to the shaking form in his arms. "I could... not...loose... him... too.."
"We didn't muindor." Elladan murmurs whilst gently stroking the head pressed to his chest. "He lives, he is strong, he will stay, he is still here."
The soothing words and actions have the desired effect and soon the trembling stills and his brother raises deep brown pools filled with love to his own. Words unspoken pass between the pair, telling of shared pain still raw after all these years, yet normally concealed deep within. A common wound re opened by recent actions that together they will seal once more then allow to sink back into the depths of their hearts, allowing their scarred fea to eventually heal.
After the storm of his fury, the sight of the Raven appearing so lost, vulnerable and young takes Flinn by surprise. Confusion runs through his mind as he wonders at the abrupt change in the elfs demeanor. Fury and hatred he understands but this. This outporing of emotion is alien to him. He suddenly feels as if he has lost something he never had, and inexplicably wishes this were not so. He stares at the two beings lost within their own communion and an instinctive urge to help, to alleviate their pain surges through his heart.
"'We was to take 'im to the master," his voice quavers with emotion. "'E wanted to make the elf 'is." Flinn continues quietly as the others listen with growing unease. " 'E said 'e wanted to see the elf kneel to 'im. " He takes a deep breath. "'E said 'e'd be useful, would make 'im do stuff, make 'im ..." His voice tails off and he slumps in the chair unable to continue.
"He said he would make me do what?"
All eyes in the room turn to the doorway and stare in disbelief as Legolas limps through it, his blue eyes filled with ice as he fixes his gaze upon the hapless human. The air temperature seems to drop as he curtly repeats the question.
"He said he would make me do what?"
Flinn slowly raises his head and forces himself to look at the prince. He gulps.
"Kill the King, " he whispers almost too quietly to be heard.
