Author's Note:
Thanks to the reviewers OlivierMira89, Silver Ink Pen, BrightPath2, EchoMeThis, Celsius Fate, Sky, Talking Teapot, LadyLindariel, Jesus' girl 4ever, WoodElfJedi, horseyyay, Raider-K, Certh, SmileyXs Ice-cream Sprinkles, Mirkwood Warrior, The Enchanted Stream for their reviews!
Special thanks to horseyyay for beta-ing this chapter.
Edit: There were some glitches in the chapter, with lines appearing where they shouldn't. So the chapter was taken down and reuploaded. I apologise for any inconvenience.
Chapter 6
"Sunsets in Coruscant are always the most beautiful I have ever witnessed," Glorfindel said.
Thranduil smiled and passed a word of agreement.
They sat casually facing each other on the steps of the Provisional Way, their outer robes draping the steps behind them. They sat a little to the right, not wanting to come in anyone's way. A long oval platter lay between them, containing a large loaf of bread and a bowl of steaming broth. The meat in the broth was unlike any Thranduil ever tasted, but when Glorfindel started to explain, Thranduil immediately interrupted and told him he'd rather not know. When Thranduil joined the Order, it opened a new gateway for him where he tasted exotic meats and plants. Some of them were good, some of them he preferred not to speak about, and as for the rest he never tasted them. Thranduil decided the fowls, and deer and pheasants from Mirkwood were the best of them all.
And so they shared the modest but deliciously nutritious meal between themselves. In the midst of the silence, they stole a glance every now and then at the setting sun. The sky turned crimson as if blood was set freely, and it turned the looming skyscrapers into dark, sinister bodies.
Thranduil passed another morsel of fresh bread and hot broth into his mouth before dusting his fingers on the empty platter. He wordlessly gestured at Glorfindel to finish the food and that he was done, in spite of Glorfindel's protests before leaning back until his lower back hit the upper step. He braced himself with his palms on the ground and drank in the breath taking sight of the colour changing sky. With the end of the morning shift, many labourers were returning home. The traffic swelled into a degree just lesser than pure chaos.
"Galadriel asked me to meet her for dinner tonight." Glorfindel said, interrupting his thoughts. Thranduil swallowed and glanced at him. The Vanya's golden head was stained fiery gold from the setting sun. His head was bowed, with only a few morsels of food left.
Thranduil looked at him in mild amusement. Glorfindel was disciplined in all walks of life. He never did things halfway. If he was schooled in the ways of wielding a blade and controlling the Force, he was fully capable of restraining himself on falling upon his food like a hungry wolf. Everything about Glorfindel was refined, cultured. Even his forbidden secret of marriage possessed an aristocratic taste, since he courted the she-Elf before wedding her. The secret still sat uncomfortably in a place deep within Thranduil's mind, even if it was something he was growing accustomed to. He didn't ask Glorfindel who she was. And the less people knew the better.
"Oh," Thranduil said, tearing his eyes away from Glorfindel and fixing them on the scenery laid out in front of him. He watched Jedi Knights hop out of a transporter. Judging from their tired faces and travel-stained robes, they no doubt returned from a long, tedious mission. They murmured a word of greeting, which Thranduil and Glorfindel returned. When they were safely out of earshot, Thranduil continued. "And what secrets do you intend to divulge in?"
Glorfindel looked up but didn't meet his eyes. Instead he stared unseeingly past Thranduil's shoulder. A shadow crossed his face.
"She'd know." Glorfindel murmured. "I know she would, from the first moment she looks at me. And it isn't something I'd hide."
Silence unfolded as Glorfindel wiped the bowl clean with a final piece of bread. Thranduil waited until Glorfindel was finished before speaking.
"You can leave the Order." Thranduil's voice was quiet, barely above a bare whisper. Glorfindel tensed, and his jaw clenched but Thranduil continued relentlessly. "You can surrender your title and live your life peacefully with your wife. You could have a family and none would trouble you. You have developed a name for yourself in our kind to be revered and trusted."
"Thranduil, it's not that simple-"
"It is. You accomplished great feats in your previous life-"
"Quiet," Glorfindel hissed and Thranduil closed his mouth immediately. He wasn't offended by his friend's curt order. The history of Arda system was largely unknown to the rest of the galaxy and the authorities in Arda liked keeping it that way. Some things in their history were... difficult to explain. Glorfindel was one such example.
He was an Elf born, killed and reborn.
Then Glorfindel let out a steadying exhale and the tension in his body escaped. He relaxed.
"I can't." Glorfindel resumed. His tone was calm but slightly strained. "I don't wish to leave behind a good cause solely because I chose to wed someone rather than spending nights of debauchery."
Thranduil hid his smile at the disgust in Glorfindel's voice. For Elves, the thought of such liberties in intimacy was unfounded and looked down upon. And the Jedi weren't exactly... Sworn into celibacy. But Glorfindel wasn't done.
"Also, we are but the first from our system to join Jedi ranks. Some of us should be among the Instructors, so the younglings could see a familiar face." Glorfindel finished. He shifted until he sat like Thranduil, facing the sunset. Time was passing quickly, and hints of dark blue appeared in the horizon. "Who else would guide them if not for us?"
Thranduil only nodded without commitment. He couldn't help but agree though. Glorfindel was right. His sudden feeling of respect towards his friend was dashed when he added thoughtfully, "I might consider the thought of starting a family though."
Thranduil threw Glorfindel a sharp look. The Elf returned it with a mirthful one of his own but Thranduil tried hard to figure out whether he was joking but Glorfindel gave nothing away. At last, Thranduil growled at him deep from his throat.
"You'd strip your title with you antics and strip mine as well," Thranduil warned but Glorfindel fervently shook his head.
"I'd never endanger you with my decisions, my friend. You didn't ask me about her name."
"I don't want to know." Thranduil said flatly. His reaction was so immediate that Glorfindel laughed.
"But enough about me, tell me about yourself," Glorfindel remarked. "I am surprised you didn't know one of our own entered the ranks of the Jedi Shadow." He arched a single golden eyebrow.
"I don't exactly follow the gossip from the temple these days," Thranduil answered. Coruscant Prime, the large glowing white star that served as the sun for Coruscant, nearly disappeared below the horizon. He shifted a little to get comfortable.
"Humph, you never liked gossip, so I guess that's no surprise. She comes from Lórien, from what I recall. I caught her combating in one of the practice rooms long ago. I liked her."
Thranduil shot Glorfindel a disbelieving look and gave a laugh.
"Trust you to judge a person by their swordplay," Thranduil said, shaking his head. "Well, now that you mentioned it, tell me; how is she?"
"Her swordplay is exceptional, better than the standard. She is a bit stiff at the wrist but quickly adapts to her environment. And she leaves her lower left open from time to time. The Shadows chose well, but that shouldn't be a surprise. They always chose the most capable."
"And was she always blind?"
"No, I have seen her before; she wasn't blind then."
"Something must have happened that took her sight away."
"Perhaps, but I believe that it's of no major hindrance to her. Else the council would have her relieved of duty. And from what I have seen since she arrived here, I believe her blindness is nothing short of mild annoyance." Glorfindel said. But Thranduil couldn't help but disagree.
"A disability is always a disability, even if you manage to get around it," Thranduil objected. "She may have worked out a way to function without her sight, but there will be weaknesses that she cannot conquer." At that, understanding dawned Glorfindel's face. He raised both his brows, crease lines forming on his forehead.
"You don't think she is capable of handling missions." Glorfindel concluded. But Thranduil shook his head.
"I haven't seen her fight, and we haven't worked together in the past. It would be unfair of me to give such an opinion so quickly. She was working before with blindness anyway, so the council is confident she is fine. But what I mean is that there always come a time when the enemy exploits a weakness and I am not entirely sure if she can handle that." A fresh breeze blew in their faces, lifting strands of hair. Thranduil closed his eyes and savoured the peaceful moment.
"I understand what you mean. I too would have the same reservations. I guess this mission will give you a better insight." Glorfindel said. Thranduil smiled. This was why he enjoyed talking to Glorfindel. The Elf never minded Thranduil's opinions and criticism on various Jedi matters and was never afraid to agree or even disagree. At times, Glorfindel provided him with a mind-set Thranduil would have never found himself and at other times it was Thranduil who changed Glorfindel's opinion.
"I hope so."
"So I assume you don't have any other problems with your new partner in crime?" Glorfindel asked. He gathered the platter and bowl and set it aside so there was nothing between them. Some stray aerial animals flew over, pecking at the crumbs left on the platter.
"Other than the fact that I am dealing with a Shadow, no," Thranduil answered dryly. Glorfindel frowned.
"What an odd thing to say," Glorfindel said. "Care to elaborate?"
"The Shadows aren't known to be a stable branch of the Order. They walk a grey line, Glorfindel. How are we to know that they will not fall to the dark side?"
"You forget that the Shadows are kept under more strict rules by the council. And they have to be evaluated regularly." Glorfindel pointed out. "It's not easy to join their ranks. And it's not easy to remain in their ranks either."
"They kill their own, Glorfindel, if I remember my history correctly. They kill their own if they find their companions have gone rogue."
This time Glorfindel's frown deepened. He pursed his lips. The last light framed both of them in golden light before disappearing in a matter of seconds.
"But you speak of the old Order. Shadows belonging to that Order bordered on paranoia. They were the ones killing their kind if they suspected even a breath of the dark side."
Thranduil fell silent and blinked a few times. Lights flared up across the Provisional Way, bathing them in white light.
"How is it that you don't know those Shadows belonged to the old Order?" Glorfindel queried. "We learned this in our history lessons when we were Padawans."
"I used to sleep in those lessons," Thranduil admitted. While he was prepared for Glorfindel's amusement, his powerful guffaw threw Thranduil off guard. Glorfindel leaned forward, hands clasping his knees and shoulders shaking in mirth, and laughed freely.
"I never thought you were the kind to doze off in a lesson," Glorfindel said once his laughter subsided. "How did you manage to get away with it?"
Thranduil winced inwardly. While most of the Jedi who dedicated their lives to teaching were patient and orderly, others weren't so much. He knew some of the teachers took strict, though not cruel, measures to keep the students in line. But Thranduil was one of the fortunate ones.
"The teacher was an elderly Jedi, who never noticed his voice put his students to sleep."
Glorfindel chuckled.
"Most of the elders are like that. I hope we aren't, when we are old and frail." Glorfindel remarked. Thranduil snorted. He stretched his legs out straight in front of him and crossed them at the ankles. He leaned back and supported his weight on the palms of his hands that rested on a step above the one he was sitting on. He spread out his fingers, enjoying the cool smooth texture of stone beneath his hands.
"I think we will remain the same as ever, my friend," Thranduil assured him. The pair laughed. Elves never aged, but they did grow weary of the world. Those who felt it was time, decide to set sail to the Grey Havens. And they were never seen again.
"I should be going." Glorfindel announced. "I have a lecture to give… on history of Jedi, no less." From the way Glorfindel smiled at him, Thranduil knew that he would never forget Thranduil's mistake.
"I will wait here." Thranduil replied.
"For the mad, half-crazy, lightsaber-wielding Jedi Shadow?" Glorfindel asked. His wide grin was plastered across his face. Thranduil rolled his eyes at him.
"Go and teach your students. Make a difference."
"I always do," Glorfindel quipped.
He remained seated while Glorfindel rose and dusted his robes. The Elf cleared away the tray and bid him farewell before returning to the temple. Thranduil remained where he was, facing the view of countless dark skyscrapers lighting up with lights and nightlife. The traffic was lessened to a steady flow. He watched the scene set out before him, his mind blissfully blank. He sensed someone approach him, until that person stood a few steps behind him.
"The Rodian's name was Palao Reves," Celil said. Thranduil turned his head around. Celil's face was directed forward as she addressed him. She wore the robes of same design and colour as he saw her last. She probably kept many clothes tailored in the same way as he kept his own. "He was known to be a small time criminal, so for him to take on a large assignment as killing a Senator is different. He may have been forced into it. In any case, he had a comrade by the name of Brysin Hardoud. He is often found in the same club every night. If all goes to plan, we have much to do and little time for it." Celil said. Thranduil hoisted up to his feet, his outer robe rustling about him in the movement. Celil's head finally faced him when she heard the sound of him rising.
"Let's go, then."
While Thranduil had many names for the lower levels of Coruscant, it was famously known as 'CoruscantUnderworld'. The Underworld never saw the light of day since the day of its birth. It remained dark, lit only by flashing neon lights from signboards and scattered streetlights that miraculously worked. Most children died before reaching adulthood in the dangerous streets of the Underworld. Those that became adults turned into thugs, warlords, thieves, assassins and other forms of criminals.
No politician gave them the light of day, and those that did only entertained them to meet their own ends. It was a wonder the Underworld still thrived. It was surprisingly well maintained in spite of the fact there was graffiti scrawled across the walls and parasites corroding the granites. Thranduil had to admit one thing; he admired the inhabitants'resilience against all odds in a nightmarish place such as this.
Their place of interest was a large club situated in the middle of the street, lined with shops of weaponry and other clubs on either side and across the street. Getting there was a hassle, since both Thranduil and Celil didn't bother disguising themselves to blend with the crowd. Their Jedi robes made them as prominent as two burning beacons for all to see. Too often Thranduil was nudged with an occasional insult thrown his way. Celil didn't fare any better. But no one directly challenged them outright and they scurried away before Thranduil and Celil reacted. Coruscant was the turf for politicians on one hand and Jedi on the other. Challenging either meant a life in prison, and harming or killing eithermeant death.
It was no surprise that the inhabitants of the Underworld resented their presence among them and the small insults and light nudges continued until they finally entered the club.
The smell of sweat and cheap perfumes met him first as soon as he stepped inside, all dimmed by the overpowering smell of alcohol. Music blasted painfully in his ears. The club was dark until he only saw silhouettes of people, outlined by the flashing white-blue light. His eyes adjusted to the darkness in bare moments, and he looked about his surroundings. He found the tables full of people, with scattered customers of various species loitering at the bar that was centred in the middle. To the right, the dance floor was so full he only made out various arms and legs in a tightknit herd of dancers. The females were dressed in skimpy clothes and the males were either drowning their sorrows in cups, gambling or flirting.
He felt a lingering, feather-light touch on his arm,immediately knowing what the touch invited. In response, he pulled back his outer robe and rested his hand on his lightsaber. The hand pulled away from him as if he seeped poison from his skin and he turned around to see the feminine, chiselled face of an orange-skinned, black and blue eyed humanoid. She was dressed in a small white dress that left little to imagination, but her handsome face was pulled into an ugly snarl. A second glance confirmed what he saw; two rows of sharply pointed white teeth.
"Jedi scum," she hissed before passing by him, her shoulder bumping harshly against his chest. It didn't hurt. Thranduil moved out of the way with a short laugh. When he looked at Celil, he found her watching him with brows raised in query.
"Apparently I am too handsome for my own good." Thranduil explained in a flippant tone. He could have sworn he saw a ghost of a smile tugging Celil's lips before disappearing.
"I am sure you are sorely mistaken," she answered. She swept past him before he could answer.
"I like her," Thranduil murmured to himself, his voice too low for her to hear above the deafening music. For a moment, Thranduil's thought shot towards Mace, and he grinned. If only Celil were as outspoken as he was. Mace would have his hands full.
The bartender was a Twi'lek, who gave them his attention when he spotted their lightsabers. That's what he liked about Coruscant. Here, the appearance of a Jedi was usually more than enough to get the job done.
"We are looking for someone." Thranduil said. He had to speak loudly; the music boomed, forcing the drinks to quiver.
"Brysin Hardoud," Celil supplied. The humanoid waved a distracted hand towards a corner. Thranduil and Celil turned their heads in the indicated direction. A man sat alone, his seat against the wall, eyes shifting nervously around the club before resting on them.
"He's expecting us." Thranduil said. Celil nodded and didn't reply.
Brysin didn't bother to move from his position as they walked up to him. He peered at their faces before turning his attention to their lightsabers warily.
"Good evening," Thranduil spoke first. His voice was calm, soothing and pleasant. A little bit of Force seeped into his voice, lulling Brysin's alertness slightly. Celil looked his way sharply, but for what reason, Thranduil didn't know. It wasn't the time to ask. "I trust you are enjoying your drink."
Brysin's drink lay untouched and full to the brim within the reach of his hand.
The man was in his early thirties, with an intricate tattoo along the side of his face. His skin was tanned and taut over bulging muscles. His head and face was shaved, but his thick brows were jet black. There was a scar over his upper lip that pulled his mouth in a permanent snarl. Life in the Underworld was no doubt tough for him. For a moment, Thranduil pitied him; it wasn't his fault he was born in criminalised slums.
But what really drew Thranduil's attention was the fact that the man looked afraid. His dark brown eyes were nervous and his hands were clenched even as they rested over the surface. Thranduil would have thought he was spoiling for a fight if it weren't for the fact that he seemed to be on edge. It reminded him of a hunted prey, looking for its hunter.
Brysin shifted in his seat, and Thranduil noted the blaster in its holder, buckled to his belt.
"I don't want any trouble, Jedi," the man rumbled. Brysinspoke in a gravelly tone, with the slur of someone born in the streets.
"We don't want to, either," Thranduil returned. The Force still seeped into his voice like water-drops from a sieve, but he lessened it considerably. Celil was still as tense as a coiledwire beside him. She seemed to inch away from him. "You were friends with a Rodian by the name of Palao Reves. He died in a suicide bombing which was meant to kill Senator Galadriel with her escort."
"I know nothing of this." Brysin said, though his voice wavered. His complexion grew pale. Brysin was terrified. But of what? It was obvious he wasn't afraid of them. He was afraid of something else, and whatever it was, it prevented Brysin from telling them the information they needed.
"Ah, but you do," Thranduil replied. Guilt welled up within him. Ethically, it was not the Jedi way to use mind-bending skills without reason during a questioning. He removed the trace of the Force from his voice. "You know what I speak of. In fact, I am sure you even know who his employer was. We'd pay you handsomely for any information you have."
Brysin's jawline worked as if he swallowed few times. Then he reached the glass in sharp, jerky movements and took a large gulp from it. He stared unseeingly ahead. His hand tensed around his glass and he threw the glass at them.
Celil swung back easily, the glass missing her by several inches. Some of the drink splashed over the edge of hersleeve. Thranduil reached for his lightsaber partially but hesitated, not wanting to start a fight in a crowded club. Brysin stood up quickly, throwing the table at the two Jedi. Itlanded on the ground with a loud crash, and its middle decoration sailed and shattered on the floor. The commotion was loud enough to break through the throes of the music and the customers nearest to them retreated from them with a loud gasp. Brysin fled before either of them could react.
"We can catch him outside!" Celil told him.
Thranduil sprang into action, shrugging off his outer robe. It fell in his wake, already forgotten by its owner.
Freed from the confinement of that robe, he chased the man out of the bar. He was dimly aware of Celil close behind him. The lack of music following him was a blessing to his ears. He lost sight of the man as soon as he entered the street and briefly skidded to a halt and scanned the crowds. Where was he?
He caught a fleeing figure between the crowds, and for a moment it paused and looked back. It was Brysin. Their eyes met before the man bolted again.
"There!" Thranduil pointed at Brysin before suddenly feeling foolish at the gesture. But Celil nodded.
"I will follow him from above," Celil said. She ran to the opposite building, grabbed the ascending pipe and shimmied up to the top. Thranduil watched her fleetingly before turning around and giving a chase.
"Out of the way," Thranduil barked at any pedestrians who gaped at him as he shouldered his way through the throngs of people. He pushed back a togruta male from his path, his eyes trained on Brysin.
Thranduil followed Brysin to the end of the street where the crowd had reasonably thinned down. Brysin skidded to a halt at the fence, before taking a few steps back and taking a leap off the fence, landing on a carrier. Thranduil pushed forward and with one hand on the top rod of the fence, swung over and landed on a transporter. Brysin's carrier was travelling faster than his own. He needed to change vehicles.
The multi-layered traffic was an intricate map of moving routes. Thranduil's mind sketched out a rough route to Brysinby judging the speeds and probable destinations of each member of the traffic.
Once he had decided on his course the Force flowed through his body, licking down his spine and gathering into his legs. He tensed and sprang into the air, the Force propelling him forward. He reached the distant carrier without a problem, landing lightly on his feet. He straightened and whirled around, his green robes flapping about him. His eyes searched the traffic carefully, until he spotted a blue-robed figure some levels of bustling traffic below him. Celil nimbly leapt from one hovering vehicle to another without losing her balance. For a split second, Thranduil stared at her agility before focusing his attention on his mark.
A speeder overtook the vessel Thranduil was riding on, and with the Force building in his legs he took a long leap, landing right behind the driver. The speeder was built in the shape of an arrowhead, the surface smooth and shining. And the driver wasn't pleased about acquiring a passenger.
The tinted glass separating Thranduil from the driver didn't allow him to see precisely who his new escort was but from the shaking fist Thranduil guessed he wasn't happy to see a Jedi holding on to his precious vehicle. And when the vehicle swerved to the side, Thranduil was very sure he wasn't happy.
He lost his balance when the speeder tilted, barely holding on. He looked for Brysin and muttered a curse. The man was getting away, but he saw Celil close behind. Thranduil spotted a line of billboards hovering below him. He waited for a moment until he reached one before letting go.
The Force was like a guide. It angled his body just right, whispered in his ear to trust its path. Thranduil allowed his body follow the trajectory until he landed lightly and painlessly on a billboard, held in the air with antigravity mechanisms. Thranduil ran across the metallic rod over the billboard easily before jumping and landing on a building. He crossed the roof until he reached a pipeline joining the building with the next one. Brysin's flighter whizzed past him. Thankfully Celil was gaining on him.
The pipeline was actually a ventilation shaft connecting the two buildings together. Thranduil glanced up and down it, before placing one careful foot on it. The pipeline seemed sturdy, and the wind wasn't strong. The sweat on his face began to cool in the breeze. The sound of vehicles whizzing past him roared in his ears and he saw how far he could fall if he slipped. Inhaling, Thranduil hardened his heart and took another step.
It grew easier each step and soon Thranduil scaled the pipeline in a near-sprint. He landed on the other building with an inward sigh of relief and ran to the other end, hoppingdown to the platform directly below him. He looked around and found he was in a docking area for civilian vehicles. Thranduil chose the closest one and swung himself in. Hemanaged to quickly to bypass security on the vehicle and thecontrols flared to life, lights blinking in the dark landing dock. Soon he was in the air and he joined the traffic, searching the intricate layers of vehicles flying one over the other for his companion. Thranduil admitted to himself he was driving rashly when he narrowly missed crashing his transport into another twice. He soon found Celil leaping from one vehicle to another in the traffic. He swooped down and angled his transport with hers.
"Jump in!" Thranduil shouted at Celil. The Shadow obeyed without a question. She smoothly leapt into the air and sat down beside him. Her fingers quickly roamed over the front deck, the seats, and her door and finally rested on his arm. She pulled away and gave him an accusatory glare.
"Where did you get this?"
"It doesn't matter!"
"The Jedi Council doesn't approve of us using civilian-marked vehicles!"
"I said it doesn't matter!"
"To you, maybe!"
Thranduil shot her a distracted look before training all his attention at the fleeing criminal. Apparently, panic at his maniacal driving loosened her tongue. Thranduil stared straight ahead and saw the criminal turn around at the waist, the blaster in his head.
"Incoming!" Thranduil warned.
Celil stood up at a blinding speed and pulled out her lightsaber, and deflected the incoming bullets. Brysin aimed for Thranduil and shot another round.
Instinct seized him in a chokehold. He swerved the transport to the side, Thranduil's body slamming against his door. Celilcrashed against his free side then sailed right past him… out of the vehicle. Thranduil's chest constricted. He straightened his transporter and looked down. Celil's body bumped against a speeder before falling on a flat, spherical platform several feet before him.
Then his transporter gave a rough jolt, throwing him against the dashboard. He pulled back with the support of his handand cursed as he surveyed the dashboard which beeped in warning. The controls were lost to him. Apparently the criminal had managed to shoot and ruin the engine of his vehicle. And it was failing him fast.
The transport lurched to the side, gaining speed. Thranduil gritted his teeth and channelled the Force through his right hand and directed it at the criminal. The Force burst forth like a powerful gust of wind, throwing Brysin off his speeder. Thranduil bent his legs at the knees and tensed lightly before leaping in the air.
Brysin landed on a sloping platform covering a building. Thranduil streamlined his body, letting the air carry him to the fallen outlaw. The vehicle he had used exploded behind him. Thranduil kept his eyes on the ground that rapidly rose up to greet him. In the last few seconds, he flipped backward so that he landed feet first.
Thranduil knew it would hurt before he even hit the ground.
Sharp pain lanced through his legs. Even the Force had its limits in cushioning the fall. Thranduil lost his balance and tipped forward with a grunt. He instinctively rolled along the sloping surface before stopping the roll by placing his palms on the cold metallic slope. He came up on his hands and knees and with gritted teeth he pulled himself to an upright position. He looked about, until his gaze finally rested on Brysin.
The man was cornered by Thranduil in front and a sheer drop behind. Behind Brysin, Thranduil could see power generators several feet long that fed the entire planet with power. The generators cast the entire area in bright orange-gold light. There was no escape from here, since no vehicle flew so low to the power lines. Brysin had nowhere to go. And he was well aware of that.
The man's determined look turned into one of pure terror.
"No," he shouted. The wind blew harshly around them, given the steep height they were at. It stole the man's voice away; Thranduil barely heard him.
"I only wish to talk." Thranduil said calmly. His voice carried in the wind, his hair and robes whipping about his form. The orange light cast his face in a sharp relief, warming his skin. He took steady, definite steps forward. The man retreated, coming dangerously close to the sheer drop behind him.
"No! Stay back! Please! I didn't-"
Brysin jerked backward, eyes widening in surprise. Thranduil frowned. His eyes fell down at Brysin's shirt, which rapidly stained red. His eyes widened, realising it was blood. The man's eyes rolled upward and he pitched back. He fell on the ground with a loud thud, rolled down the slope and off the ledge in a matter of seconds.
Thranduil pulled free his lightsaber and switched it on. He whirled around sharply at the new threat.
He blessed his Elven eyesight for what he saw. A shadowy figure was perched at the top of a nearby building. The figure was fully armoured and bore a sniper rifle in its hands. The assassin was short and stout, but Thranduil couldn't see his face because of his helmet.
Thranduil kept his lightsaber raised to deflect any shots directed his way, but the assassin remained crouched. Then it tilted its head in a predator-like fashion and Thranduil was sure it was assessing him. Then it leapt into the air and flew away with the help of its jet pack. Thranduil closed his lightsaber and hooked it back on its belt. He didn't bother to give chase; there was no way he'd catch up.
He heard someone land lightly beside him on their feet and he instinctively knew it was Celil without needing to turn.
"We lost him." Thranduil said. His voice sounded much steadier than he felt, with the adrenaline still pumping in his blood. He inwardly cursed. Celil came to stand beside his shoulder and he turned and looked down upon her. Her eyes were fixed forward on nothing in particular but she addressed him.
"It doesn't matter," Celil answered. Her voice was more winded than his own, and her chest rose and fell heavily, probably because she took the longer, harder route than the one he took.
He looked down and gauged the distance. The broken mangled body was caught on a ledge, but the distance was high enough to grant the criminal instant death. Thranduil bent slightly at the knees, the Force powering his legs before he took the leap. When he leapt, Celil followed him. Both of them landed cleanly on the ledge, right beside the body. Thranduil knelt and turned the body straight. Brysin's arms and legs flopped wildly. His mouth was wide open and his brown eyes stared listlessly into his own. Thranduil tore his eyes away from his face and searched for his wounds. There were several, and Thranduil counted five, all of them embedded in his chest. He dipped his finger into one of them and probed until he felt something hard against the pad of his finger. He shifted around until he managed to hook it free. He raised it high and inspected it. It was built like a bullet, one end pointed and the other flat. The metal was cold, smooth and hard under his fingertips. He found no other details in the dim light; he decided to inspect it further in the temple.
He turned his attention to Celil. The Shadow's hair was dishevelled, a few dark strands escaping her bun. There was a red scrape along her left temple.
He grasped Celil's chin lightly and tilted his head to inspect the injury. It was superficial; merely a graze that spilled no blood. He released her and when he looked into her eyes, he was momentarily drawn in by them. They were pure white. The outlines of where the pupils and irises should be were so faded that he had to look hard to find them. And yet she moved with such flexibility and speed in the chase that the blindness didn't seem to disable her.
How did she do it?
"We should go." Celil said. Her voice was surprisingly gentle when she turned her attention to the corpse. "We should hand the body over to the police."
The police would do nothing, except maybe look for a family or a loved one. If there was no one, as in most cases there weren't, the body was cremated and disposed of… just like that wthout any ceremony. Thranduil pursed his lips and said nothing. Celil didn't seem to notice his long silence and she continued.
"It's a pity we couldn't learn anything from him."
A sudden idea flared in Thranduil's mind and he shook his head.
"No, I think we learned plenty." He pocketed the bullet in a pouch hanging from his belt. He needed to return to the temple as quickly as possible to study it. "Let's go, so that we can return the temple as soon as possible. We have much to discuss."
Author's Note:
Sorry for the lateness of this chapter, I kept forgetting and so Thursdays came and went. :)
Replies to anon:
Sky: Thank you!
Talking Teapot: Thanks! I am glad you enjoyed it!
