Author's Note: Finally, the long-awaited chapter! Once again, so
dreadfully sorry for the delay, but real life is turning into a real be-
otch. But this chapter's kind of long, so I hope you enjoy. And as
always, I own nothing except for poorly constructed characters.
Chapter 24
The young guard was fast asleep in his chair, his quite audible snores testifying to this fact. Edrahil stood easily, his posture lax on the iron bars before him. He lazily flexed his wrists against the bars, feeling the grit and strength molded within them. Not hardly enough.
Edrahil took one last glance outside of the single window.
Everything was dark, quiet. It was the time of night when it was the most dark, equidistant from when the sun went down to when it would rise again. He had plenty of time.
Edrahil straightened and placed his palms easily against the bars that were right in front of him. Taking a short breath, Edrahil straightened his forearms and pushed.
The bars gave, not as easily as he thought, but they still gave.
Stepping forward, Edrahil braced himself and pushed again. The iron bars screeched in protest, but they still bent before him.
The sounds alerted the slumbering guard. But it was already too late, the last push had created enough room for Edrahil to slip between the iron rods.
He was across the room and at the guard's chair before the young man even had a chance to rise. The elf's hand closed around his throat. There was no time for a neat killing with a blade, he would have to do without.
Gripping tightly, Edrahil jerked the young man's neck simultaneously to the side and back. There was a definite snap, and then the man's body went limp. He had not even had a chance to put up a proper struggle. Edrahil looked down upon him with distaste. Men went down so easily; he had no idea why the elves would have ever thought them to be suitable partners in war in the first place.
Wasting no more thought on the murdered guard, Edrahil crossed the small room and slipped quietly out of the door. He stepped out into the cool darkness and glanced around, feeling the strength he composed. It had been some time since he had allowed himself to focus on his strength, he had been skulking and hiding his true self for far too long. But no more.
Edrahil walked away from the crude jail. His stride was even, his arms loose. He was confident in his mission. Whether he himself lived through the night mattered nothing to him. He had had it, it was all going to end one way or another.
Edrahil walked down the silent street, making his way to the nearest house. It was a servant's quarters, he knew it well, but that did not matter much to him. All he was interested in was how many lives he could take before being cut down himself.
The elf reached the small door and reached out to pull up the latch.
"Go no further!" a voice came from behind him.
Edrahil looked over his shoulder. A man stood behind him, one that looked familiar but not one he could place a name to.
Edrahil was slightly disgusted with himself for not sensing the man's presence earlier, but he let it slide. Likely he would not prove to be much of a distraction for long.
"And just what do you think I am going to do?" Edrahil asked softly.
The man advanced, his sword held out firmly in front of him. "Kill. The only thing you can do."
Suddenly Edrahil remembered why he looked so familiar. It was the father of the first murdered girl, the one that had been so eager to punish Legolas.
"Still sore about that then?" Edrahil finally turned to face the man fully. "It appeared to me that you were ready to place the blame on one who did not deserve it."
"A mistake that can still be righted," the man said.
Edrahil's eyes narrowed. He was already bored with this man. He had no intentions of sparring verbally with anybody tonight. He had his mission, and he was going to perform it to the best of his ability in the short time frame he was sure to have.
Without saying another word, Edrahil lunged forward and grabbed onto the blade of the man's sword. The father jerked back in reflexive surprise, but it was hardly fast enough. Edrahil already had a solid grip and with a small tug of his wrist the sword was wrenched free from its previous owner. Edrahil ignored the small sting of pain from the blade cutting into his palm and shifted so that he was then holding the hilt.
"Ready to reunite with your daughter?" Edrahil asked softly.
The man's eyes widened, and he looked like he wanted to run but dared not to. No matter.
Edrahil took a step forward and pulled his arm back so that he could thrust the blade into the man's soft belly.
"What are you doing?" The soft question came to Edrahil's ears.
Edrahil turned his head slightly, not needing to turn completely to confirm his suspicions.
Legolas stood quietly down the street, his piercing eyes taking in the scene calmly before him.
Edrahil smirked. "Come to watch again?"
Legolas took a step forward. He said nothing, but the expression on his face was mildly curious.
"I knew it," the father whispered. "I knew you were involved in all of this somehow."
Legolas frowned at the words, but he still said nothing and only came forward some more.
"You see how they still poison your name? You will never be able to live in peace with their constant suspicion and contempt." Edrahil was speaking to Legolas but facing the father, the sword held easily between them. He swung it lazily back and forth, almost like a snake preparing to make the deadly strike.
"What are you planning?" Legolas whispered. He was almost at Edrahil's side now.
"Merely watch and learn," Edrahil replied.
"I knew," the man was still muttering to himself. "I knew you had to be involved."
Edrahil drew back. "Or perhaps you would like to do it?" He turned to look Legolas in the eye and offered the sword towards him.
Legolas looked down at the sword, then over at the father. The man's face was a mixture of fear and disgust. Legolas looked back at the sword.
But before he could take it Legolas dropped down to one knee and ducked to avoid a lightning quick blow to the head from the sword that had just been proffered to him.
"Did you really believe me to be that foolish?" Edrahil asked as he swung the sword up again to prepare for another swing. "The noble elfling would never harm an innocent, no matter how much they deserve it."
Legolas threw himself down to his stomach and then rolled to create enough room between him and Edrahil to regain his feet. As Legolas sprang up he reached behind and withdrew the knife he had hidden in the back of his belt. He had intended to not reveal it until he was close enough, but he figured now would be a good time as any since his cover was already blown.
He barely had time to parry the sword with his long knife before stumbling back to try and find better footing. He felt like he was on the defensive and stumbling, and that was a feeling he definitely did not like to have when in a fight.
"I do not know why you insist on protecting them," Edrahil grunted as he swung wildly again. "You just heard his accusations with your own ears."
Legolas ducked and continued to back up.
"He has done nothing to warrant death."
"Except trying to kill you, maybe?"
Legolas had to duck again. "Then the revenge would be mine to decide, not yours."
Edrahil finally paused in his continuing advancement. "Oh, you think it's just him then? You think I was seeking retribution for you?"
Legolas took one more step back and then pulled himself to his full height, solidifying his balance and vowing his stature would remain that way. "I know you hold no concern for me or anybody else."
"If you are smart enough you will learn not to either," Edrahil replied before rushing Legolas again.
Legolas spun to the side, feeling the earth beneath him as he moved. He would not be caught fighting for his footing again. Legolas made one swipe with his knife as Edrahil neared, but it was deftly met by the sword and then thrown off. Legolas kept his grip on the knife but had to recover quickly to avoid the follow-up blow from Edrahil.
The two elves fought in a similar manner for more than a few moments. Edrahil continued to be on the offensive while Legolas was forced to fight defensively. As they continued, it began to occur to him dimly that he might not be able to bring Edrahil down. He was much older after all and had had more experience as a warrior.
Finally, after defending a series of lightning-like blows, Legolas saw an opening and he took it. Edrahil had left his right side momentarily unprotected and Legolas darted forward with his knife held to the side. His intention was to wound, not kill.
But the opening that he was sure Edrahil would not be able to recover from suddenly closed and Legolas found himself swiping at open air and stumbling forward. Reality seemed to suspend for a second while Legolas fought once again to keep his footing. But it came crashing back down the next second when Legolas felt an intense blow to his left shoulder.
Legolas went down.
His palms hit the ground and he tried to keep himself up on one knee, his other leg already working to push him back up.
But another blow, this one to the back of the head, finally brought him all the way down.
Legolas rolled in pain onto his back, his eyes straining to focus so that he may try to avoid the blow that was sure to end his life.
Yet no such blow came.
Edrahil was no longer standing over him, but was already walking away, flipping the sword easily in his hand so that the hilt was no longer the end he was using. It was then that Legolas realized that Edrahil did not mean to kill him, at least not right now.
The older elf caught up easily to the mortal father that had been standing idly by, trapped in somewhat of a daze as he watched the fight taking place before him. It was a few moments before he even realized that Edrahil had left Legolas and was now coming towards him.
Edrahil moved too fast for the father to follow and was suddenly standing behind and to the side of him, his hair clutched in his hand and the long blade positioned over his throat.
Legolas struggled to sit up as he saw Edrahil's new intent.
"There is no need for this," Edrahil was saying. "You waste your efforts on them. They appreciate nothing except for their own lives. See how his eyes now plead for you to save him when before they burned with hatred for you? See how useless and paltry he is?"
Legolas brought himself up slowly to his feet, his eyes fixed on Edrahil and any sudden movements he might make.
"They have just as much right to live as we do," he whispered.
Edrahil snorted. "Hardly. Their talents are used in destroying the forests and all natural beauty that the Vala worked so hard to create."
"You cannot group all of man together," Legolas replied. "Just as they cannot group all of elfkind together."
"They cannot but they will," Edrahil answered simply.
"Just as you are doing," Legolas found his voice growing in volume. "You are creating the same mistakes you fault them for."
Legolas saw his words hit home. Edrahil's face lost its composure for just a second and his form wavered for just that second.
But that second was all Legolas was waiting for.
Twisting his arm, Legolas threw a handful of dirt that he had carried with him on the way up from the ground. It was hardly a deadly move, but it served it's purpose. Edrahil was caught off guard and he jerked his head to the side, his hold on the father loosening.
And while Edrahil recovered Legolas rushed the pair and closed the distance between them. He grabbed onto the man and still using his momentum jerked him away from Edrahil. Legolas and the man fell into a painful pile and Legolas rolled them quickly to the side. His instincts served him well as the sword came crashing down where they had landed right after they rolled out of the way. He had known Edrahil would be stunned, but that by no means meant he was out.
Legolas sprang to his feet, pulling the father up with him. "Go!" he shouted, pushing the man away as he simultaneously spun to meet Edrahil head on. He no longer had his knife with him, but he threw up his arm anyway in an attempt to block the sword's blade. The sword met his wrist- guards, and though they were made of thick leather, he still felt the blade bite into his flesh.
Legolas leapt backwards but refused to get out of the way of Edrahil and the mortal father.
Edrahil pressed forward, swinging with his blade as he did so, but his confusion grew as Legolas would dance to avoid the blow, but then not move to the side or get out of the way.
Edrahil drew himself back and then feinted to the right before going for the left. Whether it was due to the blow he had been dealt on the back of the head before or no, Legolas missed the feint and cried out as the metal created a nice rip in his side.
Legolas doubled over and staggered, but he still would not move to the side.
"Why are you doing this?" Edrahil whispered furiously as he brought his sword down again.
Legolas jerked to avoid it, but was not able to get entirely out of the way. The tip of the blade knicked his back and Legolas grit his teeth against the pain of the new wound.
"Because," Legolas answered through his teeth, "not all men are worthless."
"Name one," Edrahil retorted dispassionately as he momentarily withheld a blow.
"Aragorn," Legolas did not hesitate in his answer.
Edrahil smirked. "You mean the very one who had you imprisoned?"
Legolas was at a temporary loss of words.
Edrahil looked over Legolas' shoulder. "No matter, my quarry is not nearly so noble."
Legolas sneaked a quick glance over his shoulder. Against his command, the father was still standing relatively close, only about twenty feet or so down the street. Legolas swung his eyes back in time to see the muscles in Edrahil's arm uncoil as he prepared to throw the long blade at the man.
Legolas forgot his weariness and pain and summoned up every last ounce of strength he possessed. Legolas used it all in one last desperate rush at Edrahil. He connected with the older elf just as the blade was being let go. Throwing him off-balance, the sword was then too knocked askew and what was once a deadly projectile now fell harmlessly to one side.
Edrahil swore in a strange tongue and grabbed onto the neck of Legolas' tunic. He pulled him forward, off of his feet, and then smashed his fist into his face, knocking Legolas back down to the ground. He followed up the blow by kneeling on Legolas' chest and wrapping his hands around Legolas' neck.
"Why did you do that?" Edrahil insisted, his question more of a furious snarl than a coherent inquiry.
Legolas latched onto Edrahil's wrists and struggled to free his quickly closing airway. But the grip was like iron and no matter how hard Legolas pulled he could not get them to move an inch.
"Why would you do that?" Edrahil hissed again, his hands tightening.
Legolas felt himself begin to panic as his body fought for air. Deliriously, he found himself also wondering just why he did do it.
Chapter 24
The young guard was fast asleep in his chair, his quite audible snores testifying to this fact. Edrahil stood easily, his posture lax on the iron bars before him. He lazily flexed his wrists against the bars, feeling the grit and strength molded within them. Not hardly enough.
Edrahil took one last glance outside of the single window.
Everything was dark, quiet. It was the time of night when it was the most dark, equidistant from when the sun went down to when it would rise again. He had plenty of time.
Edrahil straightened and placed his palms easily against the bars that were right in front of him. Taking a short breath, Edrahil straightened his forearms and pushed.
The bars gave, not as easily as he thought, but they still gave.
Stepping forward, Edrahil braced himself and pushed again. The iron bars screeched in protest, but they still bent before him.
The sounds alerted the slumbering guard. But it was already too late, the last push had created enough room for Edrahil to slip between the iron rods.
He was across the room and at the guard's chair before the young man even had a chance to rise. The elf's hand closed around his throat. There was no time for a neat killing with a blade, he would have to do without.
Gripping tightly, Edrahil jerked the young man's neck simultaneously to the side and back. There was a definite snap, and then the man's body went limp. He had not even had a chance to put up a proper struggle. Edrahil looked down upon him with distaste. Men went down so easily; he had no idea why the elves would have ever thought them to be suitable partners in war in the first place.
Wasting no more thought on the murdered guard, Edrahil crossed the small room and slipped quietly out of the door. He stepped out into the cool darkness and glanced around, feeling the strength he composed. It had been some time since he had allowed himself to focus on his strength, he had been skulking and hiding his true self for far too long. But no more.
Edrahil walked away from the crude jail. His stride was even, his arms loose. He was confident in his mission. Whether he himself lived through the night mattered nothing to him. He had had it, it was all going to end one way or another.
Edrahil walked down the silent street, making his way to the nearest house. It was a servant's quarters, he knew it well, but that did not matter much to him. All he was interested in was how many lives he could take before being cut down himself.
The elf reached the small door and reached out to pull up the latch.
"Go no further!" a voice came from behind him.
Edrahil looked over his shoulder. A man stood behind him, one that looked familiar but not one he could place a name to.
Edrahil was slightly disgusted with himself for not sensing the man's presence earlier, but he let it slide. Likely he would not prove to be much of a distraction for long.
"And just what do you think I am going to do?" Edrahil asked softly.
The man advanced, his sword held out firmly in front of him. "Kill. The only thing you can do."
Suddenly Edrahil remembered why he looked so familiar. It was the father of the first murdered girl, the one that had been so eager to punish Legolas.
"Still sore about that then?" Edrahil finally turned to face the man fully. "It appeared to me that you were ready to place the blame on one who did not deserve it."
"A mistake that can still be righted," the man said.
Edrahil's eyes narrowed. He was already bored with this man. He had no intentions of sparring verbally with anybody tonight. He had his mission, and he was going to perform it to the best of his ability in the short time frame he was sure to have.
Without saying another word, Edrahil lunged forward and grabbed onto the blade of the man's sword. The father jerked back in reflexive surprise, but it was hardly fast enough. Edrahil already had a solid grip and with a small tug of his wrist the sword was wrenched free from its previous owner. Edrahil ignored the small sting of pain from the blade cutting into his palm and shifted so that he was then holding the hilt.
"Ready to reunite with your daughter?" Edrahil asked softly.
The man's eyes widened, and he looked like he wanted to run but dared not to. No matter.
Edrahil took a step forward and pulled his arm back so that he could thrust the blade into the man's soft belly.
"What are you doing?" The soft question came to Edrahil's ears.
Edrahil turned his head slightly, not needing to turn completely to confirm his suspicions.
Legolas stood quietly down the street, his piercing eyes taking in the scene calmly before him.
Edrahil smirked. "Come to watch again?"
Legolas took a step forward. He said nothing, but the expression on his face was mildly curious.
"I knew it," the father whispered. "I knew you were involved in all of this somehow."
Legolas frowned at the words, but he still said nothing and only came forward some more.
"You see how they still poison your name? You will never be able to live in peace with their constant suspicion and contempt." Edrahil was speaking to Legolas but facing the father, the sword held easily between them. He swung it lazily back and forth, almost like a snake preparing to make the deadly strike.
"What are you planning?" Legolas whispered. He was almost at Edrahil's side now.
"Merely watch and learn," Edrahil replied.
"I knew," the man was still muttering to himself. "I knew you had to be involved."
Edrahil drew back. "Or perhaps you would like to do it?" He turned to look Legolas in the eye and offered the sword towards him.
Legolas looked down at the sword, then over at the father. The man's face was a mixture of fear and disgust. Legolas looked back at the sword.
But before he could take it Legolas dropped down to one knee and ducked to avoid a lightning quick blow to the head from the sword that had just been proffered to him.
"Did you really believe me to be that foolish?" Edrahil asked as he swung the sword up again to prepare for another swing. "The noble elfling would never harm an innocent, no matter how much they deserve it."
Legolas threw himself down to his stomach and then rolled to create enough room between him and Edrahil to regain his feet. As Legolas sprang up he reached behind and withdrew the knife he had hidden in the back of his belt. He had intended to not reveal it until he was close enough, but he figured now would be a good time as any since his cover was already blown.
He barely had time to parry the sword with his long knife before stumbling back to try and find better footing. He felt like he was on the defensive and stumbling, and that was a feeling he definitely did not like to have when in a fight.
"I do not know why you insist on protecting them," Edrahil grunted as he swung wildly again. "You just heard his accusations with your own ears."
Legolas ducked and continued to back up.
"He has done nothing to warrant death."
"Except trying to kill you, maybe?"
Legolas had to duck again. "Then the revenge would be mine to decide, not yours."
Edrahil finally paused in his continuing advancement. "Oh, you think it's just him then? You think I was seeking retribution for you?"
Legolas took one more step back and then pulled himself to his full height, solidifying his balance and vowing his stature would remain that way. "I know you hold no concern for me or anybody else."
"If you are smart enough you will learn not to either," Edrahil replied before rushing Legolas again.
Legolas spun to the side, feeling the earth beneath him as he moved. He would not be caught fighting for his footing again. Legolas made one swipe with his knife as Edrahil neared, but it was deftly met by the sword and then thrown off. Legolas kept his grip on the knife but had to recover quickly to avoid the follow-up blow from Edrahil.
The two elves fought in a similar manner for more than a few moments. Edrahil continued to be on the offensive while Legolas was forced to fight defensively. As they continued, it began to occur to him dimly that he might not be able to bring Edrahil down. He was much older after all and had had more experience as a warrior.
Finally, after defending a series of lightning-like blows, Legolas saw an opening and he took it. Edrahil had left his right side momentarily unprotected and Legolas darted forward with his knife held to the side. His intention was to wound, not kill.
But the opening that he was sure Edrahil would not be able to recover from suddenly closed and Legolas found himself swiping at open air and stumbling forward. Reality seemed to suspend for a second while Legolas fought once again to keep his footing. But it came crashing back down the next second when Legolas felt an intense blow to his left shoulder.
Legolas went down.
His palms hit the ground and he tried to keep himself up on one knee, his other leg already working to push him back up.
But another blow, this one to the back of the head, finally brought him all the way down.
Legolas rolled in pain onto his back, his eyes straining to focus so that he may try to avoid the blow that was sure to end his life.
Yet no such blow came.
Edrahil was no longer standing over him, but was already walking away, flipping the sword easily in his hand so that the hilt was no longer the end he was using. It was then that Legolas realized that Edrahil did not mean to kill him, at least not right now.
The older elf caught up easily to the mortal father that had been standing idly by, trapped in somewhat of a daze as he watched the fight taking place before him. It was a few moments before he even realized that Edrahil had left Legolas and was now coming towards him.
Edrahil moved too fast for the father to follow and was suddenly standing behind and to the side of him, his hair clutched in his hand and the long blade positioned over his throat.
Legolas struggled to sit up as he saw Edrahil's new intent.
"There is no need for this," Edrahil was saying. "You waste your efforts on them. They appreciate nothing except for their own lives. See how his eyes now plead for you to save him when before they burned with hatred for you? See how useless and paltry he is?"
Legolas brought himself up slowly to his feet, his eyes fixed on Edrahil and any sudden movements he might make.
"They have just as much right to live as we do," he whispered.
Edrahil snorted. "Hardly. Their talents are used in destroying the forests and all natural beauty that the Vala worked so hard to create."
"You cannot group all of man together," Legolas replied. "Just as they cannot group all of elfkind together."
"They cannot but they will," Edrahil answered simply.
"Just as you are doing," Legolas found his voice growing in volume. "You are creating the same mistakes you fault them for."
Legolas saw his words hit home. Edrahil's face lost its composure for just a second and his form wavered for just that second.
But that second was all Legolas was waiting for.
Twisting his arm, Legolas threw a handful of dirt that he had carried with him on the way up from the ground. It was hardly a deadly move, but it served it's purpose. Edrahil was caught off guard and he jerked his head to the side, his hold on the father loosening.
And while Edrahil recovered Legolas rushed the pair and closed the distance between them. He grabbed onto the man and still using his momentum jerked him away from Edrahil. Legolas and the man fell into a painful pile and Legolas rolled them quickly to the side. His instincts served him well as the sword came crashing down where they had landed right after they rolled out of the way. He had known Edrahil would be stunned, but that by no means meant he was out.
Legolas sprang to his feet, pulling the father up with him. "Go!" he shouted, pushing the man away as he simultaneously spun to meet Edrahil head on. He no longer had his knife with him, but he threw up his arm anyway in an attempt to block the sword's blade. The sword met his wrist- guards, and though they were made of thick leather, he still felt the blade bite into his flesh.
Legolas leapt backwards but refused to get out of the way of Edrahil and the mortal father.
Edrahil pressed forward, swinging with his blade as he did so, but his confusion grew as Legolas would dance to avoid the blow, but then not move to the side or get out of the way.
Edrahil drew himself back and then feinted to the right before going for the left. Whether it was due to the blow he had been dealt on the back of the head before or no, Legolas missed the feint and cried out as the metal created a nice rip in his side.
Legolas doubled over and staggered, but he still would not move to the side.
"Why are you doing this?" Edrahil whispered furiously as he brought his sword down again.
Legolas jerked to avoid it, but was not able to get entirely out of the way. The tip of the blade knicked his back and Legolas grit his teeth against the pain of the new wound.
"Because," Legolas answered through his teeth, "not all men are worthless."
"Name one," Edrahil retorted dispassionately as he momentarily withheld a blow.
"Aragorn," Legolas did not hesitate in his answer.
Edrahil smirked. "You mean the very one who had you imprisoned?"
Legolas was at a temporary loss of words.
Edrahil looked over Legolas' shoulder. "No matter, my quarry is not nearly so noble."
Legolas sneaked a quick glance over his shoulder. Against his command, the father was still standing relatively close, only about twenty feet or so down the street. Legolas swung his eyes back in time to see the muscles in Edrahil's arm uncoil as he prepared to throw the long blade at the man.
Legolas forgot his weariness and pain and summoned up every last ounce of strength he possessed. Legolas used it all in one last desperate rush at Edrahil. He connected with the older elf just as the blade was being let go. Throwing him off-balance, the sword was then too knocked askew and what was once a deadly projectile now fell harmlessly to one side.
Edrahil swore in a strange tongue and grabbed onto the neck of Legolas' tunic. He pulled him forward, off of his feet, and then smashed his fist into his face, knocking Legolas back down to the ground. He followed up the blow by kneeling on Legolas' chest and wrapping his hands around Legolas' neck.
"Why did you do that?" Edrahil insisted, his question more of a furious snarl than a coherent inquiry.
Legolas latched onto Edrahil's wrists and struggled to free his quickly closing airway. But the grip was like iron and no matter how hard Legolas pulled he could not get them to move an inch.
"Why would you do that?" Edrahil hissed again, his hands tightening.
Legolas felt himself begin to panic as his body fought for air. Deliriously, he found himself also wondering just why he did do it.