Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, I just play. I'll put 'em back nicely when I'm finished, promise!
Of Elves and Men - Prologue
Michael tossed and turned, struggling to get loose, but the nightmare held him firm in its grip. It was the old one, the one he'd had uncounted times before. The memories were so vivid – the cruel laughing eyes of his captors, the intense burning pain…No, his mind screamed at him, that was years ago! They are memories – nothing more!
His body thought otherwise, however, and started trembling as the door to the dark cell in his dream opened just as it had on that last fateful morning. He knew what was coming next – he had relived it so many times that he was familiar with the tiniest detail…It's just a dream! You don't have to go through this! Wake up!
Michael tried harder than ever to get away from the dark figure that always haunted his nightmare at about this point. You can get away! You can! It isn't real! You can leave this if you just try…As the figure came towards him, he gathered all his scattered wits and strength and wrenched his mind away from the darkness.
He woke with a start, and jerked half upright, covered with sweat and still shaking. Then he felt the unmistakeable prick of sharp steel at the base of his throat and froze. Michael forced his eyes to focus properly and found himself staring at a shiny sword blade that was hovering inches from his neck. He found himself marvelling at the craftsmanship of the thing, as it was as much a thing of beauty as the functional weapon he was sure it was. He forced himself back to the situation he found himself in. Plenty of time to admire it if I'm still around later… The man holding it was dark and tall. He had an almost inhuman beauty about him that did not detract from the way he carried himself – which was what Michael was more concerned about. He had the bearing of a trained warrior, and now that Michael had pulled himself together enough to notice, so did the half-dozen of his friends who were behind him – with drawn bows. They all had the same look to them, as if they might be siblings – for there were one or two women interspersed among the men.
It's not fair. Michael thought idly as he raised his hands to an unmistakable position of surrender. It's too much that one of them should be that good-looking, but all of them? They shouldn't be allowed …to… be… His train of thought was derailed as the one holding the sword turned to talk to his companions. No human he knew had ears like that, all pointed, and come to that, they were all dressed very strangely. Almost like something out of a tale… Oh dear…
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