Disclaimer: The following characters which I have already used in previous
chapters without permission belong to Cassia and Sio: Celeboril, Taradin,
Garith, Ranien and Trelan.
Friendship is rare
Do you know what I'm saying to you?
Friendship is rare
Tenacious D
Aragorn let the tears run freely down his face as he held the lifeless body of his friend in his arms. He was gone. He was actually gone. Aragorn hadn't moved from the position he had been in when Legolas had taken his last breath. He couldn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it.
He was dead.
Aragorn woke with a start and grasped Legolas's wrist. Please, oh please. It was there, he could feel it, a pulse. It had only been a dream, Legolas was alive, he hadn't left him. None of it had been real.
Apart from the tears. They were real, running down the human's dirty, beaten face, falling on to the face of his friend, the friend that had saved him so many times and was now laying in his arms. Legolas had a pulse; it was very faint and irregular, but still there. He had to hope.
He was so caught up he didn't see the three men enter the room. Didn't feel the kicks and punches that two of the men rained on him. Didn't hear ther third man telling them to stop. Saying that beating the distraught ranger was not Dougil's orders, they were only to check to see if the elf lived.
Fidelio and Piscean were reluctant to stop and in the end Neonatal had to send them away to keep them from harming the unresponsive ranger anymore. Neonatal moved slowly over to the two prisoner's side, tying to see if the elf was dead. As he knelt down by the captives he found himself suddenly up against the wall, two firm hands grasped tightly around his throat, keeping him pinned against the stone.
"If you have come here to harm him again, you are very much mistaken. I won't let you touch him again. He is almost dead as it is; please won't you let him rest he does n-not have l-long left." Aragorn choked on his words.
Neonatal watched the rage that had been in the man's eyes turn to one of great sadness and grief. He could hear the pain in the human's voice, but not from the wounds. This pain came from having to watch a loved one die in front of your eyes.
Aragorn slowly released the hunter and returned back to Legolas's side checking to see if he had woken, this movement was very familiar now, he had done it so many times, each negative answer pulling him further and further towards the edge of the deep pit of despair he was balancing on.
Neonatal stared in silence. He had done this. He had reduced the high spirited man he had captured two weeks ago into this. Living in fear that his friend would die, pleading to his tormenters to leave them alone.
Whatever doubt's he had had about what he was planning to do next disappeared at once. With a soft smile playing across his lips he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package. Dropping next to the ranger once more he ripped it open and spilled the contents on to the floor.
He worked quickly, gathering the debris that littered the tiny cell. He piled it into a heap, and, taking out two pieces of flint, struck them together until the sparks set the wood alight, the bright flames casting shadows on the walls. He then pulled two more objects which consisted of a small pot and a flask of water.
He set the pot on top of the small fire once it was filled with water and then went to check that the door was shut. As Aragorn watched in amazement he crushed some of the herbs, blew on them, and sprinkled them into the merrily boiling water. Almost at once the carming scent of Athelas filled the room, easing Aragorn's troubled mind.
They could not tell if it was having any affect on Legolas but Aragorn prayed that it was. Taking a cloth Neonatal dipped it into the Athelas and gently began to clean Legolas's wounds again.
Aragorn couldn't speak. He didn't understand what was happening. Why was this man helping him? He opened his mouth, about to ask, when Neonatal shoved some more herbs into his hands, instructing him to make a salve to prevent any more infection from setting in.
Neonatal himself began to make up the only know remedy for the oil that had been used on the elf. It was lucky that Doulgil had told him. In fact, it was only him and Limidon that did know, besides Doulgil of course. The lotion soothed the irritated skin around the red marks and when rubbed in, fought against the burning chemicals in the oil and helped cool it down.
After Aragorn had spread his ointment over the prince's back, Neonatal laid his own balm on, before binding the burns up with fresh bandages, also from his coats pocket. When he had finished he stood up, and was about to leave when Aragorn stopped him.
"Why did you help? If your leader finds out he will kill you"
Neonatal stared at the man. He himself wasn't even sure why he had done it. Looking back at the ranger he replied,
"Because I do not want the death of an innocent elf hanging over my head. Because I do not want you have to go through the same heartache of losing a friend that I had to. I know how it feel's to lose some one very close. And so does Doulgil. Yet we all have different ways of reacting to it. He wants revenge, I only wish to prevent any one else from experiencing that loss."
"I have left you the rest of the liniment; replace the old lotion with it in 4 hours. I can not promise you that it will save your friend, but I will hope and pray."
This time he did depart, leaving an astonished ranger behind. He knew what would happen if Doulgil did find out, yet strangely, he didn't care. All he knew is that he couldn't have let the elf die, not with a free conscience. As he walked away from the dark dungeon, he couldn't help but smile as he thought of the deep friendship that had so obviously built between the tow races.
Taradin consulted his crudely drawn map again, sighing. He was positive now. His meeting with Eon had been perfectly normal, or at least it would have been if one of the mayor's servants hadn't come in, seen Taradin, and said,
"I see you have found the man that the dark strang..." Before he was cut off by the mayor furiously shaking his head. He wondered what the half finished sentence meant. He had tried to corner the servant later, but every time he spotted him, the servant would disappear.
Turing round to face Aneol, he said,
"The old watch tower should be just beyond the trees"
Aneol nodded in answer. After a moments pause he asked,
"How did you get Garith to stay behind?" It had obviously been a much asked question.
"Ah, yes" Taradin turned slightly pink. He had only got his son to stay behind by blackmailing him, and he was sure Aneol wouldn't approve. Oh well he thought I'll make it up to him when we get back.
In the end it had been decided that only Taradin and Aneol would go to visit the new arrival to the out skirts of Frisdan. They had left at dawn and were, finally, nearing the end of the journey.
Taradin stared up at the crumbling building. Motioning Aneol forward, they both climbed the moss covered steps and walked cautiously into the stone courtyard. There was only one wall that was still fully intact, and even that looked as though it would fall over any second. There was moss and lichen coating the paving stones and ivy clinging to all the walls and creeping across what little roof sheltered the nearest corner.
Weeds poked up between the cracks and seemed to climb their legs, wrapping their around their boots. The two companions struggled to move forward and eventually Taradin was forced to cut the weeds away from him if he was to get any where.
He debated whether to call out or not when he heard footsteps coming from a far corner. Behind a shelter of ivy there were more steps, this time leading down wards, and hurrying up them was a dark haired man. He was wearing a dark brown tunic and similar leggings. Slung around his shoulders was a heavy cloak.
As Doulgil reached the courtyard he stopped and lifted his eyes, staring hard at the two men that dared enter the watch tower. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He would find out what they wanted then send them off. He couldn't let the towns folk get any more suspicious than they all ready were or they would spoil his whole plan.
Steeling himself he took another deep breath.
"What, may I ask, brings two hunters like yourselves to this old watch tower. If you are looking for a place to spend the night, the town of Frisdan is but 7 miles to the east" he said softly in what would have been a friendly manner, was it not for the dangerous glint in his eyes.
"We have not come for accommodation. We have been sent by the mayor of Frisdan to enquire about your business in these parts as it appears that you have been hassling a number of people."
"That was not my intent at all. I was merely asking if any one had happened to witness the murder of my dear brother whose life was taken in that very town."
"I am very sorry to hear about your loss, but surely you just asking questions could not have created such a disturbance as it has done."
Doulgil resisted the urge to yell at them to leave and shove them down the steps himself. . It looked like these infuriating men weren't going to leave any time soon. He thought quickly before deciding to try and use his brother as an excuse.
"Look" he said, interrupting Taradin,
"Do you think you could come back tomorrow. My brother's death is still very fresh to me and you asking questions is not going to help much. But if you do come back later I may be able to handle it better."
Taradin eyed the man suspiciously for a moment before saying,
"Yes, of course. We will come back tomorrow around midday. Good night." Taking one last glance around they walked back out of the courtyard, planning to camp in the nearby woods so they wouldn't have to make the long trip back to the tower.
As they left, another man came up the stairs and stood next to Doulgil.
"So you are letting him go after all?" Limidon asked, confused.
"What?"
"Of course, you do not recognise him. The man with the green tunic was Taradin. Souldil's murderer."
Elrond stalked through the house, searching for either Glorfindel of Celeboril, he didn't care who. As he rounded a corner, he caught sight of a blonde haired elf disappearing quickly round the corner.
Growling, Elrond sped up, breaking into a fast run and astonishing a number of elves that he past, all them wondering what their lord was doing, racing around his home like a 100 year old elfling.
As Glorfindel rushed past the kitchen he skidded to a halt, sliding a few feet on the polished floors. He grabbed hold of the door frame as he flew past and dragged himself in, before darting over to Celeboril and pulling him through the side door, leading out into the courtyard.
"What are you doing" Celeboril asked, wondering what on middle earth the famous elf lord was up to now.
"Quick, Elrond has woken up and he just saw me."
Celeboril's already pale face turned almost white at this news. A sound behind caused them to turn round, take one glance at the murderous look on their lord's face, and clasp their hands together in a silent prayer.
Elrond stood in front of them, eyes narrowed and his mouth in one thin, straight line.
"Explain"
"Er...yes...you see..."
"Erm...well...you were just so tired so we uh..."
"Um...thought you could do with a rest..."
"So we..."
"DECICED TO DRUG ME!?!?!?" Elrond yelled.
"Well, well, well Lord Elrond. May I ask who drugged you and why you are currently shouting at you chief adviser and servant?
Elrond looked up to see an old man with a flowing grey beard, thick bushy eyebrows over hanging two twinkling blue eyes almost hidden under the wide brim of a pointy blue hat.
"M-Mithrandir" Elrond faltered.
"What are you doing here."
"It is nice to see you too old friend. And you haven't answered my question"
"Because...well...you see." Elrond trailed off unable to give him an answer.
With a sigh Gandalf decided he really didn't want to know and followed the now much more dignified lord into his home. He realised that he wasn't a bit surprised when Glorfindel and Celeboril disappeared as soon as the entered the house, and that Lord Elrond shot them a look that clearly said he would get them later. He could see where Elladan and Elrohir got it from.
"Two weeks you say?"
"Yes" Elrond paced back and forwards, hands clasped tightly behind his back.
"I know I should calm down but then I know them."
"I see" Gandalf looked out the window, a thoughtful look on his face.
"I suppose I should go and find out what there up to then"
"Excuse me?"
"Well you can't go, obviously, so that leaves me. I will go in the morning"
"But..."
Gandalf held up a weatherworn hand,
"Now don't argue. You have every right to be worried about them, considering their past adventures and need someone to check on them. Namely me. I will bring them all back to you in one piece."
As Elrond raised a disbelieving eyebrow he added quickly,
"Well, maybe with a few missing pieces. We'll see"
He bid Lord Elrond good night and left the study. There was no need for him to pack and he could leave at first light.
Taradin tapped Aneol again, growing impatient; he had never met a man who liked his sleep more than Aneol. Nothing short of a war could wake him when he was in one of his moods, which he seemed to be in right now. He had had very little sleep the night before and intended to make the most of the morning.
Taradin tried tapping him a bit harder. Aneol lay perfectly still and Taradin had just leaned over once more when a large hand short up and pushed him over, rolling him out of the tent flap.
As Taradin leaped up and dusted himself off he was sure he could hear his friend giggling.
That's it he thought, filling a pot with water from the nearby stream, he has asked for it
He moved back into the tent and decided he would give Aneol one last chance.
"Wake up; we have to leave now if we are to make it on time. This is your last warning...very well" He picked up the bucket, and with a grin, chucked the whole lot over his sleeping companions face.
"Bluhhhhhhhh" Aneol shot up, eyes wide, his golden brown tresses plastered to his head. He quickly took in the soaked bed clothes, the now empty bucket, and his disappearing friend. With a low growl he leapt up, wide awake, and grabbed his own water flask, prepared for revenge.
10 minutes later
Two thoroughly drenched humans wandered slowly into a deserted campsite, one holding a now empty waterskin flask, and the other a small pot. As they began packing up the camp it was obvious to see that they were both sulking.
As Aneol cleared up the remains of the last night fire, he picked up a small piece of the charred wood and threw it deftly at the turned back of his friend, before once more working innocently at the fire.
Taradin looked up in surprise as something hit him gently on the small of his back. He glanced up at the sky before his gaze rested on his friend. He scowled at the bent form and went to retrieve the stick, planning to throw it back when he caught sight of the sun and realised how late they were.
He bundled the tent up quickly and called out to Aneol to hurry up as well. In the rush there fight was all but forgotten. In less than 2 minutes they were off, taking long strides and shifting their packs to more comfortable positions on their backs, moving swiftly to make up for lost time.
As the neared the watch tower for the second time, Taradin felt an undistinguishable feeling of dread fall over him. He turned to Aneol and could tell by the look on his face that he felt the same.
Giving his companion a wry grin Aneol turned his attention back to the gloomy building in front of him. As he did so he was sure he saw a dark shadow slipping back and the glint of sunlight catching on metal.
Shaking his head he decided he must be imagining it and ran to catch up with Taradin who hadn't waited for him. As he went forward, he saw Taradin suddenly stop and stiffen. Frowning, he sped up, and when he reached his friends side, he saw what had made Taradin freeze.
In a semi-cycle in front of the two friends were five men. Standing in the middle was Doulgil with a very smug, very pleased grin on his face. On either side were two men, each one with a crossbow trained on the two of them. They stood staring at each other for a few moments before Doulgil stepped forward.
"Well Taradin, I see we finally meet. You thought you could hide your identity from me yesterday, but luckily one of men recognised you."
"What?" Taradin asked, confused.
"And how do you know my name."
"You don't even remember do you" Doulgil snarled.
"You don't care and just think of him as another victim of your ruthless, heartless killings."
"What? I..." Taradin couldn't finish due to Doulgil slamming him against the wall.
"Don't you dare answer me back. You will soon regret the day you ever met me and my brother."
Letting go his hold around the Taradin's neck, Doulgil turned and stalked back to his men, motioning to two of them as he did.
"Bring him. Kill the other."
Aneol had barely resisted what the man had said before he heard the twanging of an arrow and the swoosh as it rushed through the air. He tried to jump to the side, but not before he felt the arrow head embed itself just below his left shoulder. He looked down in surprise, he was sure he would miss the arrow. In fact he knew he had. That when he remembered the second man.
Aneol tried to blink through the grey and yellow spots clouding his vision and could barely see Taradin being pulled away, his friend fighting to reach his side before he slumped over and hit the ground with a dull thud and everything went dark.
Friendship is rare
Do you know what I'm saying to you?
Friendship is rare
Tenacious D
Aragorn let the tears run freely down his face as he held the lifeless body of his friend in his arms. He was gone. He was actually gone. Aragorn hadn't moved from the position he had been in when Legolas had taken his last breath. He couldn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it.
He was dead.
Aragorn woke with a start and grasped Legolas's wrist. Please, oh please. It was there, he could feel it, a pulse. It had only been a dream, Legolas was alive, he hadn't left him. None of it had been real.
Apart from the tears. They were real, running down the human's dirty, beaten face, falling on to the face of his friend, the friend that had saved him so many times and was now laying in his arms. Legolas had a pulse; it was very faint and irregular, but still there. He had to hope.
He was so caught up he didn't see the three men enter the room. Didn't feel the kicks and punches that two of the men rained on him. Didn't hear ther third man telling them to stop. Saying that beating the distraught ranger was not Dougil's orders, they were only to check to see if the elf lived.
Fidelio and Piscean were reluctant to stop and in the end Neonatal had to send them away to keep them from harming the unresponsive ranger anymore. Neonatal moved slowly over to the two prisoner's side, tying to see if the elf was dead. As he knelt down by the captives he found himself suddenly up against the wall, two firm hands grasped tightly around his throat, keeping him pinned against the stone.
"If you have come here to harm him again, you are very much mistaken. I won't let you touch him again. He is almost dead as it is; please won't you let him rest he does n-not have l-long left." Aragorn choked on his words.
Neonatal watched the rage that had been in the man's eyes turn to one of great sadness and grief. He could hear the pain in the human's voice, but not from the wounds. This pain came from having to watch a loved one die in front of your eyes.
Aragorn slowly released the hunter and returned back to Legolas's side checking to see if he had woken, this movement was very familiar now, he had done it so many times, each negative answer pulling him further and further towards the edge of the deep pit of despair he was balancing on.
Neonatal stared in silence. He had done this. He had reduced the high spirited man he had captured two weeks ago into this. Living in fear that his friend would die, pleading to his tormenters to leave them alone.
Whatever doubt's he had had about what he was planning to do next disappeared at once. With a soft smile playing across his lips he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package. Dropping next to the ranger once more he ripped it open and spilled the contents on to the floor.
He worked quickly, gathering the debris that littered the tiny cell. He piled it into a heap, and, taking out two pieces of flint, struck them together until the sparks set the wood alight, the bright flames casting shadows on the walls. He then pulled two more objects which consisted of a small pot and a flask of water.
He set the pot on top of the small fire once it was filled with water and then went to check that the door was shut. As Aragorn watched in amazement he crushed some of the herbs, blew on them, and sprinkled them into the merrily boiling water. Almost at once the carming scent of Athelas filled the room, easing Aragorn's troubled mind.
They could not tell if it was having any affect on Legolas but Aragorn prayed that it was. Taking a cloth Neonatal dipped it into the Athelas and gently began to clean Legolas's wounds again.
Aragorn couldn't speak. He didn't understand what was happening. Why was this man helping him? He opened his mouth, about to ask, when Neonatal shoved some more herbs into his hands, instructing him to make a salve to prevent any more infection from setting in.
Neonatal himself began to make up the only know remedy for the oil that had been used on the elf. It was lucky that Doulgil had told him. In fact, it was only him and Limidon that did know, besides Doulgil of course. The lotion soothed the irritated skin around the red marks and when rubbed in, fought against the burning chemicals in the oil and helped cool it down.
After Aragorn had spread his ointment over the prince's back, Neonatal laid his own balm on, before binding the burns up with fresh bandages, also from his coats pocket. When he had finished he stood up, and was about to leave when Aragorn stopped him.
"Why did you help? If your leader finds out he will kill you"
Neonatal stared at the man. He himself wasn't even sure why he had done it. Looking back at the ranger he replied,
"Because I do not want the death of an innocent elf hanging over my head. Because I do not want you have to go through the same heartache of losing a friend that I had to. I know how it feel's to lose some one very close. And so does Doulgil. Yet we all have different ways of reacting to it. He wants revenge, I only wish to prevent any one else from experiencing that loss."
"I have left you the rest of the liniment; replace the old lotion with it in 4 hours. I can not promise you that it will save your friend, but I will hope and pray."
This time he did depart, leaving an astonished ranger behind. He knew what would happen if Doulgil did find out, yet strangely, he didn't care. All he knew is that he couldn't have let the elf die, not with a free conscience. As he walked away from the dark dungeon, he couldn't help but smile as he thought of the deep friendship that had so obviously built between the tow races.
Taradin consulted his crudely drawn map again, sighing. He was positive now. His meeting with Eon had been perfectly normal, or at least it would have been if one of the mayor's servants hadn't come in, seen Taradin, and said,
"I see you have found the man that the dark strang..." Before he was cut off by the mayor furiously shaking his head. He wondered what the half finished sentence meant. He had tried to corner the servant later, but every time he spotted him, the servant would disappear.
Turing round to face Aneol, he said,
"The old watch tower should be just beyond the trees"
Aneol nodded in answer. After a moments pause he asked,
"How did you get Garith to stay behind?" It had obviously been a much asked question.
"Ah, yes" Taradin turned slightly pink. He had only got his son to stay behind by blackmailing him, and he was sure Aneol wouldn't approve. Oh well he thought I'll make it up to him when we get back.
In the end it had been decided that only Taradin and Aneol would go to visit the new arrival to the out skirts of Frisdan. They had left at dawn and were, finally, nearing the end of the journey.
Taradin stared up at the crumbling building. Motioning Aneol forward, they both climbed the moss covered steps and walked cautiously into the stone courtyard. There was only one wall that was still fully intact, and even that looked as though it would fall over any second. There was moss and lichen coating the paving stones and ivy clinging to all the walls and creeping across what little roof sheltered the nearest corner.
Weeds poked up between the cracks and seemed to climb their legs, wrapping their around their boots. The two companions struggled to move forward and eventually Taradin was forced to cut the weeds away from him if he was to get any where.
He debated whether to call out or not when he heard footsteps coming from a far corner. Behind a shelter of ivy there were more steps, this time leading down wards, and hurrying up them was a dark haired man. He was wearing a dark brown tunic and similar leggings. Slung around his shoulders was a heavy cloak.
As Doulgil reached the courtyard he stopped and lifted his eyes, staring hard at the two men that dared enter the watch tower. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He would find out what they wanted then send them off. He couldn't let the towns folk get any more suspicious than they all ready were or they would spoil his whole plan.
Steeling himself he took another deep breath.
"What, may I ask, brings two hunters like yourselves to this old watch tower. If you are looking for a place to spend the night, the town of Frisdan is but 7 miles to the east" he said softly in what would have been a friendly manner, was it not for the dangerous glint in his eyes.
"We have not come for accommodation. We have been sent by the mayor of Frisdan to enquire about your business in these parts as it appears that you have been hassling a number of people."
"That was not my intent at all. I was merely asking if any one had happened to witness the murder of my dear brother whose life was taken in that very town."
"I am very sorry to hear about your loss, but surely you just asking questions could not have created such a disturbance as it has done."
Doulgil resisted the urge to yell at them to leave and shove them down the steps himself. . It looked like these infuriating men weren't going to leave any time soon. He thought quickly before deciding to try and use his brother as an excuse.
"Look" he said, interrupting Taradin,
"Do you think you could come back tomorrow. My brother's death is still very fresh to me and you asking questions is not going to help much. But if you do come back later I may be able to handle it better."
Taradin eyed the man suspiciously for a moment before saying,
"Yes, of course. We will come back tomorrow around midday. Good night." Taking one last glance around they walked back out of the courtyard, planning to camp in the nearby woods so they wouldn't have to make the long trip back to the tower.
As they left, another man came up the stairs and stood next to Doulgil.
"So you are letting him go after all?" Limidon asked, confused.
"What?"
"Of course, you do not recognise him. The man with the green tunic was Taradin. Souldil's murderer."
Elrond stalked through the house, searching for either Glorfindel of Celeboril, he didn't care who. As he rounded a corner, he caught sight of a blonde haired elf disappearing quickly round the corner.
Growling, Elrond sped up, breaking into a fast run and astonishing a number of elves that he past, all them wondering what their lord was doing, racing around his home like a 100 year old elfling.
As Glorfindel rushed past the kitchen he skidded to a halt, sliding a few feet on the polished floors. He grabbed hold of the door frame as he flew past and dragged himself in, before darting over to Celeboril and pulling him through the side door, leading out into the courtyard.
"What are you doing" Celeboril asked, wondering what on middle earth the famous elf lord was up to now.
"Quick, Elrond has woken up and he just saw me."
Celeboril's already pale face turned almost white at this news. A sound behind caused them to turn round, take one glance at the murderous look on their lord's face, and clasp their hands together in a silent prayer.
Elrond stood in front of them, eyes narrowed and his mouth in one thin, straight line.
"Explain"
"Er...yes...you see..."
"Erm...well...you were just so tired so we uh..."
"Um...thought you could do with a rest..."
"So we..."
"DECICED TO DRUG ME!?!?!?" Elrond yelled.
"Well, well, well Lord Elrond. May I ask who drugged you and why you are currently shouting at you chief adviser and servant?
Elrond looked up to see an old man with a flowing grey beard, thick bushy eyebrows over hanging two twinkling blue eyes almost hidden under the wide brim of a pointy blue hat.
"M-Mithrandir" Elrond faltered.
"What are you doing here."
"It is nice to see you too old friend. And you haven't answered my question"
"Because...well...you see." Elrond trailed off unable to give him an answer.
With a sigh Gandalf decided he really didn't want to know and followed the now much more dignified lord into his home. He realised that he wasn't a bit surprised when Glorfindel and Celeboril disappeared as soon as the entered the house, and that Lord Elrond shot them a look that clearly said he would get them later. He could see where Elladan and Elrohir got it from.
"Two weeks you say?"
"Yes" Elrond paced back and forwards, hands clasped tightly behind his back.
"I know I should calm down but then I know them."
"I see" Gandalf looked out the window, a thoughtful look on his face.
"I suppose I should go and find out what there up to then"
"Excuse me?"
"Well you can't go, obviously, so that leaves me. I will go in the morning"
"But..."
Gandalf held up a weatherworn hand,
"Now don't argue. You have every right to be worried about them, considering their past adventures and need someone to check on them. Namely me. I will bring them all back to you in one piece."
As Elrond raised a disbelieving eyebrow he added quickly,
"Well, maybe with a few missing pieces. We'll see"
He bid Lord Elrond good night and left the study. There was no need for him to pack and he could leave at first light.
Taradin tapped Aneol again, growing impatient; he had never met a man who liked his sleep more than Aneol. Nothing short of a war could wake him when he was in one of his moods, which he seemed to be in right now. He had had very little sleep the night before and intended to make the most of the morning.
Taradin tried tapping him a bit harder. Aneol lay perfectly still and Taradin had just leaned over once more when a large hand short up and pushed him over, rolling him out of the tent flap.
As Taradin leaped up and dusted himself off he was sure he could hear his friend giggling.
That's it he thought, filling a pot with water from the nearby stream, he has asked for it
He moved back into the tent and decided he would give Aneol one last chance.
"Wake up; we have to leave now if we are to make it on time. This is your last warning...very well" He picked up the bucket, and with a grin, chucked the whole lot over his sleeping companions face.
"Bluhhhhhhhh" Aneol shot up, eyes wide, his golden brown tresses plastered to his head. He quickly took in the soaked bed clothes, the now empty bucket, and his disappearing friend. With a low growl he leapt up, wide awake, and grabbed his own water flask, prepared for revenge.
10 minutes later
Two thoroughly drenched humans wandered slowly into a deserted campsite, one holding a now empty waterskin flask, and the other a small pot. As they began packing up the camp it was obvious to see that they were both sulking.
As Aneol cleared up the remains of the last night fire, he picked up a small piece of the charred wood and threw it deftly at the turned back of his friend, before once more working innocently at the fire.
Taradin looked up in surprise as something hit him gently on the small of his back. He glanced up at the sky before his gaze rested on his friend. He scowled at the bent form and went to retrieve the stick, planning to throw it back when he caught sight of the sun and realised how late they were.
He bundled the tent up quickly and called out to Aneol to hurry up as well. In the rush there fight was all but forgotten. In less than 2 minutes they were off, taking long strides and shifting their packs to more comfortable positions on their backs, moving swiftly to make up for lost time.
As the neared the watch tower for the second time, Taradin felt an undistinguishable feeling of dread fall over him. He turned to Aneol and could tell by the look on his face that he felt the same.
Giving his companion a wry grin Aneol turned his attention back to the gloomy building in front of him. As he did so he was sure he saw a dark shadow slipping back and the glint of sunlight catching on metal.
Shaking his head he decided he must be imagining it and ran to catch up with Taradin who hadn't waited for him. As he went forward, he saw Taradin suddenly stop and stiffen. Frowning, he sped up, and when he reached his friends side, he saw what had made Taradin freeze.
In a semi-cycle in front of the two friends were five men. Standing in the middle was Doulgil with a very smug, very pleased grin on his face. On either side were two men, each one with a crossbow trained on the two of them. They stood staring at each other for a few moments before Doulgil stepped forward.
"Well Taradin, I see we finally meet. You thought you could hide your identity from me yesterday, but luckily one of men recognised you."
"What?" Taradin asked, confused.
"And how do you know my name."
"You don't even remember do you" Doulgil snarled.
"You don't care and just think of him as another victim of your ruthless, heartless killings."
"What? I..." Taradin couldn't finish due to Doulgil slamming him against the wall.
"Don't you dare answer me back. You will soon regret the day you ever met me and my brother."
Letting go his hold around the Taradin's neck, Doulgil turned and stalked back to his men, motioning to two of them as he did.
"Bring him. Kill the other."
Aneol had barely resisted what the man had said before he heard the twanging of an arrow and the swoosh as it rushed through the air. He tried to jump to the side, but not before he felt the arrow head embed itself just below his left shoulder. He looked down in surprise, he was sure he would miss the arrow. In fact he knew he had. That when he remembered the second man.
Aneol tried to blink through the grey and yellow spots clouding his vision and could barely see Taradin being pulled away, his friend fighting to reach his side before he slumped over and hit the ground with a dull thud and everything went dark.