- -
Chapter Seven
- -
Colorblind
- -
My eyes are open, but they don't see
Sight has long been lost to me
New people, places, things to see
I can't see them, they can't see me
Darkness calls with a brand new day
My heart still weeps, so I'm fine that way
My eyes aren't shut- Why can't I see?
Sight has long been lost to me
- -
Dark, angry clouds rumbled threateningly up out of the east, bespeaking rain. The last tinge of stubborn gold faded from the skies, sucked over the hills to leave a bluish-grey dusk behind. Darkness fell like a curtain over the hills and valleys, cloaking the lands in a weird semi-darkness as the trees swayed and moaned in the violent wind.
A scraggly forest stretched over the hills, ambling and rolling until it began to thin out and then halt entirely, it's edges crowning the ridges that overlooked the town of Dunslow, a large farming town nestled in the hills between Rivendell and the Misty Mountains.
It was on one of these ridges that a lone figure stood, straight and tall, dark cloak and golden hair whipping about in the wind. Forest-green elvish clothes had been exchanged for dark-shaded garments of human make and style. The heavy, deep-brown cloak concealed the pair of twin elvish blades still strapped to his back, and the bow slung over his shoulder was shorter and heavier than the slender elvish one he usually bore. A pack was slung over the opposite shoulder and a long sword was at his side.
Although his raiment was human in style, and a strip of dark cloth wound across his forehead to tie in the back, covering the delicately pointed ears, Legolas' long blonde tresses and fair features distinguished him as an elf. But even these things were soon disguised as he pulled his hood over his head and low over his eyes, concealing the bright strands like water on flame.
Now his steel-blue eyes flashed hesitantly as he looked down upon the dwelling of men. He had left the forest of Mirkwood for the first time in years, and he did not much care for the realms of the mortal. Aside from that, Dunslow was notorious for it's animosity towards elves. He pushed these things aside now, however. He was here for one purpose and one purpose alone: To find the ranger, Arathorn son of Arador.
- -
Legolas was a matter of yards from the wall of the town when the storm struck, pouring down, unleashing all it's pent-up fury. And considering the weather, and the fact that it was almost dark anyway, the gate had been shut for the night when he reached it.
Cursing fluently in Dwarvish, he crept along the wall, looking for a place even slightly lower where it might be easier to climb over. Finding none, he returned to the gate. He stood for a moment, as if staring at it hard enough would cause it to swing open.
He shivered slightly as he squinted up at the angry black sky. Elves were not generally affected by cold and heat, but this was downright bone- chilling. On top of finding the ranger within the town, he might also find a warm corner of some inn to rest a while. His clothes were soaked, the thick mud sucked at his boots, and his hair was plastered to his face- all- in-all, a far from comfortable situation.
Taking a few light running steps forward, Legolas leapt up and grasped the top of the wood, swinging himself swiftly and silently over and landing lightly in a crouch in the shadows on the other side.
He remained there for a moment, still and poised as he peered into the darkness and listened intently. A flame flickered in the small low building built off the side of the gate and there were sounds of movement inside as the gatekeeper settled himself for the night.
Rising slowly to his feet, Legolas moved along close to the building before stepping into the street in the wake of a group of boisterous travelers. It was amazing the speed with which the streets had emptied in the face of the storm. Those few souls still upon them were headed to a home or pub to wait out the weather for the night.
Carts rumbled hurriedly past on the pavement, adding to the general noise as wind battered the wooden buildings, travelers shuffled through doorways and pushed past each other.
The wind sent trees swaying dangerously; loose gates and fences clanged, and a sign over a large inn swayed and creaked wildly. It was towards this that Legolas made his way. The board was shaped like an arrow and painted black, hanging above an open doorway. Men exit and entered the building at a good pace, and golden firelight flooded the smooth wet street, mingled with the odors of ale, food and smoke.
The elf paused just before the door, wondering once again what he was getting himself into. Here he was, at the end of his journey to Dunslow. But what now? Did he really expect to walk into the first inn he saw, pass himself off as a human and find the ranger? Could he really even expect help from the man? It took enough just to go through with asking the man for help, so what would happen if either he couldn't find him, or the human was just like every other man he had ever met? Rude, destructive, and haughty? Caring little for the interests of any but himself?
Legolas leaned against the rough wooden wall, tracing the uneven knots and grainy surface with long, slender fingers as he absently observed the constant flow of traffic from the doorway. He knew what he would eventually do in the long run, he just needed to think it over one more time. At least if there was any manner of fault in his reasoning he would find it now and beforehand where it did him no harm.
But what fault could be found in a plan only half-formed to begin with? the strange thought entered Legolas mind suddenly- so suddenly he stopped a moment to think on it.
[i]How long have you been seeing in black and white? How long have you been colorblind? Blind to everything left that's good in this world?[/i]
Legolas blinked. Wherever that thought had come from, it put things into perspective. There are good things, good people, left in this world. Your life is not all there is. It's barely one thread in Vaire's loom of time.
[i]But even the smallest thread can be the most important if it does not think of itself as important.[i]
Legolas' mouth actually fell open this time, and he spun around for the source of the voice. There was no-one.
Straightening and fingering the hilt of the sword at his side, he slipped into the inn without further contemplation. Perhaps living without living companionship for so many years was finally taking affect on his mind.
He willingly tuned his senses to block out the barrage of repulsive smells and odors that hit him full-force with every breath of musty, pungent air.
Inns were crowded in the best of times, but on this particular night, this one was fairly teeming with masses of people. Legolas didn't realize he was standing in the doorway until he was shoved aside and towards the bar as a burly man barged into the inn.
A glimpse of annoyance welled up in the elf's flashing eyes for a brief moment as he shot a disgusted glare towards the human, who did not see it. He turned his attention to the counter, where a bartender and his assistant were being bombarded with the calls and orders of the inn's occupants.
"Sir-" Legolas tried as the innkeeper swept past, his round face red and shiny from the exertion, but cheery nonetheless. The man continued on, the elf's voice having been drowned out in the noise.
"Pardon sir," He tried again, raising his voice a notch. When this still received no answer, he cleared his throat and tried again.
"Innkeeper!" He fairly shouted above the clamor. Ironically, no-one thought this odd and it garnered the correct response, for within moments the man had bustled up towards him.
"What might I do for you master?" The man chortled.
Legolas hesitated, before casually speaking. "Know you if any of the rangers rest here this night?"
The man did not seem to think the question odd, though Legolas had realized only after the fact that it must have been so.
"Why, I don't believe so my good sir, at least not at the moment, although I dare say they're here often enough." The man rubbed one gnarled hand over a stubbly chin as he assumed an air of thoughtfulness and leaned over the counter as if to share a confidential secret.
"I dare say," He repeated, "You stick around a bit and one of your friends may show up after all. Not many inns you folk see as this one, and one of the best it is! Don't think even you would keep out on a night like this."
The man's attention was momentarily distracted as another patron called out to him, and he straightened. "Your table in the corner's open I'll wager, and I'll see your ale's brought around shortly." He added before bustling away.
Legolas was caught off guard, to say the least. He had learned much valuable information in that one small conversation. This inn was frequented by the rangers. But the man thought he was one of them? He wasn't sure if that worked to his advantage, but something was telling him it did.
Table in the corner... Legolas' eyes turned to rove about the room, finally lighting on a small and unobtrusive empty wooden table tucked away into a corner near the hearth.
He stepped forward and around the counter, sidestepping several disoriented men headed for another beer, and towards the table.
- -
Vance watched with dark green eyes as the tall cloaked figure settled himself into the ranger's table in the corner. The figure moved with an easy grace and poise foreign even to the rangers.
He glanced across the table to Kyrik. The youth's brown eyes locked with his, and he saw mirrored in them the same questions. Vance pressed his lips into a grim line and shrugged ever so slightly. The lad chewed his lip and turned his eyes back to the lithe figure across the inn.
The youth was bright and serious, Vance thought as his gaze lingered on the young man's handsome, but rugged and worn features. He had been traveling with the hunters for three years now, and was an apt and quick learner. He had a future ahead of him.
His eyes roamed to the older man sitting next to the boy. Osman was also watching the cloaked figure intently, his eyes narrowed, but he did not turn to either of his companions for several moments.
When he did, his sea-grey eyes were intent and thoughtful.
Kyrik was the first to speak. "Osman, he wasn't a ranger." He said quietly.
"I know." Osman nodded.
Vance's brow furrowed in a puzzled frown as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table.
"He looks like them, he dresses like them, he talks like them-" He ticked these things off on his fingers, and then cast another glance in the elf's direction. "But there's something different about him..."
Vance trailed off, and Kyrik picked up. "But we've never seen him here before." The lad mused quietly without taking his eyes off the stranger.
Osman nodded affirmatively. "Aye, that's true." He spoke, and then turned to Vance. "I'd a thought he was Arathorn when first he came in- he's about his height, maybe a bit more, but too slight. He spoke to the bartender over there and I knew for sure."
"Hmm." Vance studied the stranger. "Did you hear what they said?"
He already knew what the answer would be even as he voiced the question. Nothing definite could be heard in the inn at all over the patron's calls for food and ale, the boisterous laughter and raucous conversation unless you were right next to the person.
Osman obviously knew this too, but he just shook his head.
"Is he a ranger then, do you think?" Kyrik questioned.
"I can't rightly say. Seems like it-" Osman replied. "But as you said Vance- there's something different there too."
- -
Legolas' sharp steel-blue eyes swept the inn, almost uncomfortably full of humans. The innkeeper doubtless knew what he was talking about when he had said there were no rangers presently in the inn, but he had to be sure for himself. Satisfied that the place held no more than the usual odd mixture of travelers, wayfarers and farmers, he settled in to relax and watch the door.
He leaned back into the wall and stretched his long legs out towards the fire, letting the warmth of the inn be a comfort rather than a repulsion, as was his first and automatic reaction. Being somewhere warm showed him just how cold he really was, and for several moments he contemplated fighting his way through the throbbing mass of humans to the counter again, perhaps to find something warm to order.
The thought became reality as he stood, deciding he might also be able to listen in a few conversations and learn something at the same time.
He waited for more-or-less of a path to clear through the swarming patrons and then stepped forward, threading through tables and people to the counter. A moment's observation showed an empty counter space and he headed for it. Leaning his elbows on the wood, he gratefully accepted the mug of warm sloshing liquid pushed his way.
Thirsty as he was, he could not help sniffing the amber liquid cautiously, before gingerly taking a sip. The liquid was beautifully warm, and curiously enough, not bad at all as far as flavor went. Nothing compared to the superb wines of the halls of Thranduil, but he wasn't going to complain.
- -
Kyrik stood and slipped out of his chair, stretching his arms and clapping a hand on Vance's shoulder. "I'm up for something warm-" He spoke. "Can I get you two anything?"
Osman only grunted, and Vance shook his head. He watched as Kyrik stepped up to the counter, and realized the stranger had also left his corner and had approached the bar. The innkeeper's assistant pushed a warm mug of mead into his hands, and Vance watched incredulously as the elf examined the drink before taking a testing sip.
What kind of ranger was this that acted as if this warm and inviting inn was an uncomfortable and unfamiliar place? He glanced across at Osman, and could only wonder of the same thoughts were spinning through his mind behind that intimidating mask.
They would just have to wait and see...
- -
Legolas moved slightly aside as another man approached the counter and loudly proclaimed his desired order to the bartender. Legolas vaguely wondered how the bartender handled everything.
The elf's eyes swept over the motley crowd, coming to rest on an obvious fight going on in the opposite corner from where he had been sitting. Both men sprang angrily to their feet. One Legolas recognized as the burly man who had pushed past him earlier.
Blows were dealt, drawing a fair amount attention from the room's other occupants, and then the burly man grabbed his smaller companion by the tunic and heaved him clear across the room.
Legolas sidestepped as the man crashed into the counter and then dropped unceremoniously to the floor where the elf had stood not moments before. He raised himself on his hands and knees, cursing loudly. Legolas hesitated, and then offered the man a hand up.
In an instant, the man had angrily hit the offer away and had a dagger in his hand, his rage turned to the person that happened to be in front of him. And that was Legolas.
Almost the entire inn had turned it's attention to the man and elf now, some of the more timid ones backed into their corners, fearfully eyeing the dagger in the man's hand, others rooting for one or the other as if the scene were a contest. Legolas took a step back, hands raised in a gesture of peace as the man heaved himself up and fixed blazing eyes on the elf.
"I wish you no harm-" Legolas tried, but got no further.
The man hissed and lunged, his blade meeting empty air as the elf moved aside, sending the human plunging to the floor yet again. He scrambled up and turned. Legolas once again let the man dive past him as he moved, almost casually out of his path, but the human had expected this and did not fall to the floor, but whirled and advanced again, trying to back the elf against the counter.
- -
Vance had shifted to directly across from Osman so they could speak easier, blocking both figure's view of the brawl taking place behind them. They were speaking intently when the hunter realized he no longer had the older mans attention. The bushy grey eyebrows were furrowed as he leaned to the side, trying to see past Vance.
Vance turned in his seat as well. It took about two seconds for the scene before his eyes to register, and then he sprang to his feet in alarm, his hand flying automatically to his sword hilt. Osman stood as well, but placed a restraining hand on the man's arm, with a look that clearly said "watch and wait". Even so, the man could see the concern in the hunters eyes as they looked on, watching silently as the elf defended himself easily from the men that were ganging up on him.
Vance watched in amazement as Legolas spun, struck, dove with an amazing catlike grace, speed, and agility, as more joined the brawl, most intent on the elf that had aroused the fight. He had no idea who the man was, or that he was in fact an elf, and so the skill and grace of the tall, cloaked figure surprised him.
Almost automatically he leaned towards Osman. "My money's on the ranger-" he muttered. Osman nodded.
The elf had not yet pulled out a weapon, still trying to appease the raging men attacking him, but he soon had no choice as several started to find swords and daggers to use in the fight. The burly man Legolas had recognized from earlier had now joined in the fight, seemingly forgetting all about who he had been fighting not moments before.
Legolas whipped his long white blades from their sheathes on his back, remaining with his back to the counter as he concentrated on blocking the blows only, not wanting to have the blood of these men on his hands, though he could easily have killed them at any given moment.
Strong arms locked around his neck from behind, cutting off his airway. He dropped his knives as he struggled to pry away at the death lock that was suffocating him. The grip did not loosen, and Legolas, thinking fast, kicked out viciously at the men in front of him, who, seeing their chance, were advancing on the now-unarmed elf. He then heaved forward, pulling his attacker off of the counter and flipping the man straight over his head and into the crowd.
Finding himself free for the moment, Legolas scooped up his fallen knives, gasping for breath, and dashed to the stairs leading to the rooms above, blocking and shoving as he fought his way to the first steps. He reached them and sprinted upwards, several enraged humans right on his heels.
He rounded a bend when he reached the top into a long hallway, running almost to the end before throwing himself into a door at random, wincing as his shoulder slammed into the wood. It shattered inwards, and he landed on his shoulder once more. He was up in an instant and he made for the window, throwing his hands over his head seconds before he crashed straight through the glass.
For a sickening moment he had the odd sensation of falling through space, but had the presence of mind to curl his head inwards moments before his body hit the wet stone of the street two stories down- hard. He landed on the side of his shoulder, not halting his forward momentum as he kept going and rolled smoothly to his feet.
He could hear astonished and outraged cries from the window above, and then the sounds of noisy pursuit pouring from the door of the inn. He kept running, a bit surprised at how quickly they were able to follow him.
He sped down a side street, skidding to a halt as he ran smack into a longing group of guards, clearly surprising them as much as they had surprised him.
He twisted away, taking the moment of surprise to leap up and catch hold of a protruding support beam high above his head. In instants, the mob behind him and the guards had met, only to find that their quarry had disappeared.
- -
Kyrik had dashed out of the inn as soon as the elf had disappeared up the stairs. The only ways out of the rooms above were the two large windows, and he had expected the stranger to try to use one. He was not prepared however, when the elf came crashing through the glass.
A brief glimpse of gold flashed as the figure rolled to his feet and sprinted into the darkness without breaking stride, but the boy dismissed it. At the moment, he was so amazed with what he had seen that he just wanted to find Osman and Vance.
He was deterred from going back into the inn, however, by the flood of people that poured from the doorway, now heedless of the rain and storm. He soon spotted them among the crowd and pulled them aside.
"Did you see that?" He asked Vance as he tugged him by the sleeve to the side.
"No, but we heard it." Osman's muttered voice answered for Vance.
"That was amazing!" Vance spewed. "I've never seen anyone fight like that."
For many minutes, the street was crowded with people, but this did not last long. Most of them seemed to suddenly realize it was still raining and storming and headed back for the inn, as did the mob of eager spectators that had followed the elf and his opponents.
Osman scoffed as the burly man and his compatriots appeared back at the inn, their faces as dark as the sky. They did not seem interested in going quietly back to their drinks however, and soon emerged a moment later with long, heavy swords at their sides.
Vance scowled as he watched the men disappear up a side street. He turned to look at Osman, who wore the same expression as Vance and Kyrik, who were both looking to him. His shoulder-length silver-grey hair stuck to his face in damp strands, accenting his dramatically sloping eyebrows, prominent chin, and weathered, wrinkled face.
They were the only people on the streets now, and he turned to them as Vance expectantly drew his sword. Kyrik eyed him questioningly, his hand on his own sword. The old hunter's face broke into a rare grin. He finally chuckled wryly, and drawing his own sword, waved the others after him.
Vance laughed and headed after Osman as they followed the men. He turned to Kyrik with gleaming eyes. "Just to keep things even!" He whispered, garnering a grin from the youth.
- -
Legolas knew he was being followed long before the men came into sight. The heavy breathing, noisy footsteps, and hushed whispers to each other to "keep quiet" helped the elf, even over the sound of the rain, distinguish the size and number of the trackers.
Three of them, good sized, but not impossibly so. It would be no difficult feat to take them, especially since the storm and rain would likely disorientate them.
Legolas ducked into a side street- not that it was any less deserted than the main street at that hour, but it was a bit lighter there. Even he had trouble seeing through the darkness in the rain.
Men! he thought. They disgusted him. He could not believe they were following him to kill him for no reason other than that he had been present during the fight, and seeking someone to blame, they had laid it upon the stranger.
Because one of them attacked me, now they want to kill me?
Anger kindled inside of him as he silently slipped his twin blades out and held them ready over his shoulders, pressing his body close up against the side of a building. He un-consciously shifted his grip on the smooth white handles as the stealthy brush of boots on the rain-slicked cobblestones came closer to him.
Now!- with deadly speed and lethal precision, Legolas spun away from the wall and around the edge of the building, his blades cutting the air in a deft arc as metal clashed against metal and then caught the unsuspecting man in the stomach.
The man stumbled forward with a gasp, his blade clattering to the pavement as he gripped his stomach. Within the space of a second, Legolas knew something was wrong. This was not one of the men that had been following him....
- -
There! A truly long chapter! As promised! 10 pages long, three new characters, the priceless tavern brawl, and a cliffie to boot! Is everybody happy now? Really? Can you please let me your thoughts know then? Don't worry, I am not Saruman trying to pry the deepest darkest secrets from the depths of your soul! I'm a 14 year old kid sitting on her laptop on a sagging couch in California staring glumly at the screen because no-one likes my story!!! WHAT IN MIDDLE-EARTH HAPPENED TO ALL THE REVIEWERS!!!?? Has the second rise of Sauron happened without me? Am I really that bad?
Yea, nay, have-no-say? The button at the bottom titled "SUBMIT REVIEW" actually comes in very handy when you get the urge to tell me you loved/hated my chapter!!!!
So unless you have absolutely no idea how to use your mouse, CLICK IT! Pretty please!? How's this- (friendly persuasion): Cupcakes to all reviewers!!!!
- -
Thanks so much to Fiery Flames of Sapphire, Knux the Gaurdian, (a.k.a. Veaneaquende), forever-mortal, and farflung for reviewing! Because you were the only ones to review this chap, you all get special, chocolate cupcakes! Yay! lol
Chapter Seven
- -
Colorblind
- -
My eyes are open, but they don't see
Sight has long been lost to me
New people, places, things to see
I can't see them, they can't see me
Darkness calls with a brand new day
My heart still weeps, so I'm fine that way
My eyes aren't shut- Why can't I see?
Sight has long been lost to me
- -
Dark, angry clouds rumbled threateningly up out of the east, bespeaking rain. The last tinge of stubborn gold faded from the skies, sucked over the hills to leave a bluish-grey dusk behind. Darkness fell like a curtain over the hills and valleys, cloaking the lands in a weird semi-darkness as the trees swayed and moaned in the violent wind.
A scraggly forest stretched over the hills, ambling and rolling until it began to thin out and then halt entirely, it's edges crowning the ridges that overlooked the town of Dunslow, a large farming town nestled in the hills between Rivendell and the Misty Mountains.
It was on one of these ridges that a lone figure stood, straight and tall, dark cloak and golden hair whipping about in the wind. Forest-green elvish clothes had been exchanged for dark-shaded garments of human make and style. The heavy, deep-brown cloak concealed the pair of twin elvish blades still strapped to his back, and the bow slung over his shoulder was shorter and heavier than the slender elvish one he usually bore. A pack was slung over the opposite shoulder and a long sword was at his side.
Although his raiment was human in style, and a strip of dark cloth wound across his forehead to tie in the back, covering the delicately pointed ears, Legolas' long blonde tresses and fair features distinguished him as an elf. But even these things were soon disguised as he pulled his hood over his head and low over his eyes, concealing the bright strands like water on flame.
Now his steel-blue eyes flashed hesitantly as he looked down upon the dwelling of men. He had left the forest of Mirkwood for the first time in years, and he did not much care for the realms of the mortal. Aside from that, Dunslow was notorious for it's animosity towards elves. He pushed these things aside now, however. He was here for one purpose and one purpose alone: To find the ranger, Arathorn son of Arador.
- -
Legolas was a matter of yards from the wall of the town when the storm struck, pouring down, unleashing all it's pent-up fury. And considering the weather, and the fact that it was almost dark anyway, the gate had been shut for the night when he reached it.
Cursing fluently in Dwarvish, he crept along the wall, looking for a place even slightly lower where it might be easier to climb over. Finding none, he returned to the gate. He stood for a moment, as if staring at it hard enough would cause it to swing open.
He shivered slightly as he squinted up at the angry black sky. Elves were not generally affected by cold and heat, but this was downright bone- chilling. On top of finding the ranger within the town, he might also find a warm corner of some inn to rest a while. His clothes were soaked, the thick mud sucked at his boots, and his hair was plastered to his face- all- in-all, a far from comfortable situation.
Taking a few light running steps forward, Legolas leapt up and grasped the top of the wood, swinging himself swiftly and silently over and landing lightly in a crouch in the shadows on the other side.
He remained there for a moment, still and poised as he peered into the darkness and listened intently. A flame flickered in the small low building built off the side of the gate and there were sounds of movement inside as the gatekeeper settled himself for the night.
Rising slowly to his feet, Legolas moved along close to the building before stepping into the street in the wake of a group of boisterous travelers. It was amazing the speed with which the streets had emptied in the face of the storm. Those few souls still upon them were headed to a home or pub to wait out the weather for the night.
Carts rumbled hurriedly past on the pavement, adding to the general noise as wind battered the wooden buildings, travelers shuffled through doorways and pushed past each other.
The wind sent trees swaying dangerously; loose gates and fences clanged, and a sign over a large inn swayed and creaked wildly. It was towards this that Legolas made his way. The board was shaped like an arrow and painted black, hanging above an open doorway. Men exit and entered the building at a good pace, and golden firelight flooded the smooth wet street, mingled with the odors of ale, food and smoke.
The elf paused just before the door, wondering once again what he was getting himself into. Here he was, at the end of his journey to Dunslow. But what now? Did he really expect to walk into the first inn he saw, pass himself off as a human and find the ranger? Could he really even expect help from the man? It took enough just to go through with asking the man for help, so what would happen if either he couldn't find him, or the human was just like every other man he had ever met? Rude, destructive, and haughty? Caring little for the interests of any but himself?
Legolas leaned against the rough wooden wall, tracing the uneven knots and grainy surface with long, slender fingers as he absently observed the constant flow of traffic from the doorway. He knew what he would eventually do in the long run, he just needed to think it over one more time. At least if there was any manner of fault in his reasoning he would find it now and beforehand where it did him no harm.
But what fault could be found in a plan only half-formed to begin with? the strange thought entered Legolas mind suddenly- so suddenly he stopped a moment to think on it.
[i]How long have you been seeing in black and white? How long have you been colorblind? Blind to everything left that's good in this world?[/i]
Legolas blinked. Wherever that thought had come from, it put things into perspective. There are good things, good people, left in this world. Your life is not all there is. It's barely one thread in Vaire's loom of time.
[i]But even the smallest thread can be the most important if it does not think of itself as important.[i]
Legolas' mouth actually fell open this time, and he spun around for the source of the voice. There was no-one.
Straightening and fingering the hilt of the sword at his side, he slipped into the inn without further contemplation. Perhaps living without living companionship for so many years was finally taking affect on his mind.
He willingly tuned his senses to block out the barrage of repulsive smells and odors that hit him full-force with every breath of musty, pungent air.
Inns were crowded in the best of times, but on this particular night, this one was fairly teeming with masses of people. Legolas didn't realize he was standing in the doorway until he was shoved aside and towards the bar as a burly man barged into the inn.
A glimpse of annoyance welled up in the elf's flashing eyes for a brief moment as he shot a disgusted glare towards the human, who did not see it. He turned his attention to the counter, where a bartender and his assistant were being bombarded with the calls and orders of the inn's occupants.
"Sir-" Legolas tried as the innkeeper swept past, his round face red and shiny from the exertion, but cheery nonetheless. The man continued on, the elf's voice having been drowned out in the noise.
"Pardon sir," He tried again, raising his voice a notch. When this still received no answer, he cleared his throat and tried again.
"Innkeeper!" He fairly shouted above the clamor. Ironically, no-one thought this odd and it garnered the correct response, for within moments the man had bustled up towards him.
"What might I do for you master?" The man chortled.
Legolas hesitated, before casually speaking. "Know you if any of the rangers rest here this night?"
The man did not seem to think the question odd, though Legolas had realized only after the fact that it must have been so.
"Why, I don't believe so my good sir, at least not at the moment, although I dare say they're here often enough." The man rubbed one gnarled hand over a stubbly chin as he assumed an air of thoughtfulness and leaned over the counter as if to share a confidential secret.
"I dare say," He repeated, "You stick around a bit and one of your friends may show up after all. Not many inns you folk see as this one, and one of the best it is! Don't think even you would keep out on a night like this."
The man's attention was momentarily distracted as another patron called out to him, and he straightened. "Your table in the corner's open I'll wager, and I'll see your ale's brought around shortly." He added before bustling away.
Legolas was caught off guard, to say the least. He had learned much valuable information in that one small conversation. This inn was frequented by the rangers. But the man thought he was one of them? He wasn't sure if that worked to his advantage, but something was telling him it did.
Table in the corner... Legolas' eyes turned to rove about the room, finally lighting on a small and unobtrusive empty wooden table tucked away into a corner near the hearth.
He stepped forward and around the counter, sidestepping several disoriented men headed for another beer, and towards the table.
- -
Vance watched with dark green eyes as the tall cloaked figure settled himself into the ranger's table in the corner. The figure moved with an easy grace and poise foreign even to the rangers.
He glanced across the table to Kyrik. The youth's brown eyes locked with his, and he saw mirrored in them the same questions. Vance pressed his lips into a grim line and shrugged ever so slightly. The lad chewed his lip and turned his eyes back to the lithe figure across the inn.
The youth was bright and serious, Vance thought as his gaze lingered on the young man's handsome, but rugged and worn features. He had been traveling with the hunters for three years now, and was an apt and quick learner. He had a future ahead of him.
His eyes roamed to the older man sitting next to the boy. Osman was also watching the cloaked figure intently, his eyes narrowed, but he did not turn to either of his companions for several moments.
When he did, his sea-grey eyes were intent and thoughtful.
Kyrik was the first to speak. "Osman, he wasn't a ranger." He said quietly.
"I know." Osman nodded.
Vance's brow furrowed in a puzzled frown as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table.
"He looks like them, he dresses like them, he talks like them-" He ticked these things off on his fingers, and then cast another glance in the elf's direction. "But there's something different about him..."
Vance trailed off, and Kyrik picked up. "But we've never seen him here before." The lad mused quietly without taking his eyes off the stranger.
Osman nodded affirmatively. "Aye, that's true." He spoke, and then turned to Vance. "I'd a thought he was Arathorn when first he came in- he's about his height, maybe a bit more, but too slight. He spoke to the bartender over there and I knew for sure."
"Hmm." Vance studied the stranger. "Did you hear what they said?"
He already knew what the answer would be even as he voiced the question. Nothing definite could be heard in the inn at all over the patron's calls for food and ale, the boisterous laughter and raucous conversation unless you were right next to the person.
Osman obviously knew this too, but he just shook his head.
"Is he a ranger then, do you think?" Kyrik questioned.
"I can't rightly say. Seems like it-" Osman replied. "But as you said Vance- there's something different there too."
- -
Legolas' sharp steel-blue eyes swept the inn, almost uncomfortably full of humans. The innkeeper doubtless knew what he was talking about when he had said there were no rangers presently in the inn, but he had to be sure for himself. Satisfied that the place held no more than the usual odd mixture of travelers, wayfarers and farmers, he settled in to relax and watch the door.
He leaned back into the wall and stretched his long legs out towards the fire, letting the warmth of the inn be a comfort rather than a repulsion, as was his first and automatic reaction. Being somewhere warm showed him just how cold he really was, and for several moments he contemplated fighting his way through the throbbing mass of humans to the counter again, perhaps to find something warm to order.
The thought became reality as he stood, deciding he might also be able to listen in a few conversations and learn something at the same time.
He waited for more-or-less of a path to clear through the swarming patrons and then stepped forward, threading through tables and people to the counter. A moment's observation showed an empty counter space and he headed for it. Leaning his elbows on the wood, he gratefully accepted the mug of warm sloshing liquid pushed his way.
Thirsty as he was, he could not help sniffing the amber liquid cautiously, before gingerly taking a sip. The liquid was beautifully warm, and curiously enough, not bad at all as far as flavor went. Nothing compared to the superb wines of the halls of Thranduil, but he wasn't going to complain.
- -
Kyrik stood and slipped out of his chair, stretching his arms and clapping a hand on Vance's shoulder. "I'm up for something warm-" He spoke. "Can I get you two anything?"
Osman only grunted, and Vance shook his head. He watched as Kyrik stepped up to the counter, and realized the stranger had also left his corner and had approached the bar. The innkeeper's assistant pushed a warm mug of mead into his hands, and Vance watched incredulously as the elf examined the drink before taking a testing sip.
What kind of ranger was this that acted as if this warm and inviting inn was an uncomfortable and unfamiliar place? He glanced across at Osman, and could only wonder of the same thoughts were spinning through his mind behind that intimidating mask.
They would just have to wait and see...
- -
Legolas moved slightly aside as another man approached the counter and loudly proclaimed his desired order to the bartender. Legolas vaguely wondered how the bartender handled everything.
The elf's eyes swept over the motley crowd, coming to rest on an obvious fight going on in the opposite corner from where he had been sitting. Both men sprang angrily to their feet. One Legolas recognized as the burly man who had pushed past him earlier.
Blows were dealt, drawing a fair amount attention from the room's other occupants, and then the burly man grabbed his smaller companion by the tunic and heaved him clear across the room.
Legolas sidestepped as the man crashed into the counter and then dropped unceremoniously to the floor where the elf had stood not moments before. He raised himself on his hands and knees, cursing loudly. Legolas hesitated, and then offered the man a hand up.
In an instant, the man had angrily hit the offer away and had a dagger in his hand, his rage turned to the person that happened to be in front of him. And that was Legolas.
Almost the entire inn had turned it's attention to the man and elf now, some of the more timid ones backed into their corners, fearfully eyeing the dagger in the man's hand, others rooting for one or the other as if the scene were a contest. Legolas took a step back, hands raised in a gesture of peace as the man heaved himself up and fixed blazing eyes on the elf.
"I wish you no harm-" Legolas tried, but got no further.
The man hissed and lunged, his blade meeting empty air as the elf moved aside, sending the human plunging to the floor yet again. He scrambled up and turned. Legolas once again let the man dive past him as he moved, almost casually out of his path, but the human had expected this and did not fall to the floor, but whirled and advanced again, trying to back the elf against the counter.
- -
Vance had shifted to directly across from Osman so they could speak easier, blocking both figure's view of the brawl taking place behind them. They were speaking intently when the hunter realized he no longer had the older mans attention. The bushy grey eyebrows were furrowed as he leaned to the side, trying to see past Vance.
Vance turned in his seat as well. It took about two seconds for the scene before his eyes to register, and then he sprang to his feet in alarm, his hand flying automatically to his sword hilt. Osman stood as well, but placed a restraining hand on the man's arm, with a look that clearly said "watch and wait". Even so, the man could see the concern in the hunters eyes as they looked on, watching silently as the elf defended himself easily from the men that were ganging up on him.
Vance watched in amazement as Legolas spun, struck, dove with an amazing catlike grace, speed, and agility, as more joined the brawl, most intent on the elf that had aroused the fight. He had no idea who the man was, or that he was in fact an elf, and so the skill and grace of the tall, cloaked figure surprised him.
Almost automatically he leaned towards Osman. "My money's on the ranger-" he muttered. Osman nodded.
The elf had not yet pulled out a weapon, still trying to appease the raging men attacking him, but he soon had no choice as several started to find swords and daggers to use in the fight. The burly man Legolas had recognized from earlier had now joined in the fight, seemingly forgetting all about who he had been fighting not moments before.
Legolas whipped his long white blades from their sheathes on his back, remaining with his back to the counter as he concentrated on blocking the blows only, not wanting to have the blood of these men on his hands, though he could easily have killed them at any given moment.
Strong arms locked around his neck from behind, cutting off his airway. He dropped his knives as he struggled to pry away at the death lock that was suffocating him. The grip did not loosen, and Legolas, thinking fast, kicked out viciously at the men in front of him, who, seeing their chance, were advancing on the now-unarmed elf. He then heaved forward, pulling his attacker off of the counter and flipping the man straight over his head and into the crowd.
Finding himself free for the moment, Legolas scooped up his fallen knives, gasping for breath, and dashed to the stairs leading to the rooms above, blocking and shoving as he fought his way to the first steps. He reached them and sprinted upwards, several enraged humans right on his heels.
He rounded a bend when he reached the top into a long hallway, running almost to the end before throwing himself into a door at random, wincing as his shoulder slammed into the wood. It shattered inwards, and he landed on his shoulder once more. He was up in an instant and he made for the window, throwing his hands over his head seconds before he crashed straight through the glass.
For a sickening moment he had the odd sensation of falling through space, but had the presence of mind to curl his head inwards moments before his body hit the wet stone of the street two stories down- hard. He landed on the side of his shoulder, not halting his forward momentum as he kept going and rolled smoothly to his feet.
He could hear astonished and outraged cries from the window above, and then the sounds of noisy pursuit pouring from the door of the inn. He kept running, a bit surprised at how quickly they were able to follow him.
He sped down a side street, skidding to a halt as he ran smack into a longing group of guards, clearly surprising them as much as they had surprised him.
He twisted away, taking the moment of surprise to leap up and catch hold of a protruding support beam high above his head. In instants, the mob behind him and the guards had met, only to find that their quarry had disappeared.
- -
Kyrik had dashed out of the inn as soon as the elf had disappeared up the stairs. The only ways out of the rooms above were the two large windows, and he had expected the stranger to try to use one. He was not prepared however, when the elf came crashing through the glass.
A brief glimpse of gold flashed as the figure rolled to his feet and sprinted into the darkness without breaking stride, but the boy dismissed it. At the moment, he was so amazed with what he had seen that he just wanted to find Osman and Vance.
He was deterred from going back into the inn, however, by the flood of people that poured from the doorway, now heedless of the rain and storm. He soon spotted them among the crowd and pulled them aside.
"Did you see that?" He asked Vance as he tugged him by the sleeve to the side.
"No, but we heard it." Osman's muttered voice answered for Vance.
"That was amazing!" Vance spewed. "I've never seen anyone fight like that."
For many minutes, the street was crowded with people, but this did not last long. Most of them seemed to suddenly realize it was still raining and storming and headed back for the inn, as did the mob of eager spectators that had followed the elf and his opponents.
Osman scoffed as the burly man and his compatriots appeared back at the inn, their faces as dark as the sky. They did not seem interested in going quietly back to their drinks however, and soon emerged a moment later with long, heavy swords at their sides.
Vance scowled as he watched the men disappear up a side street. He turned to look at Osman, who wore the same expression as Vance and Kyrik, who were both looking to him. His shoulder-length silver-grey hair stuck to his face in damp strands, accenting his dramatically sloping eyebrows, prominent chin, and weathered, wrinkled face.
They were the only people on the streets now, and he turned to them as Vance expectantly drew his sword. Kyrik eyed him questioningly, his hand on his own sword. The old hunter's face broke into a rare grin. He finally chuckled wryly, and drawing his own sword, waved the others after him.
Vance laughed and headed after Osman as they followed the men. He turned to Kyrik with gleaming eyes. "Just to keep things even!" He whispered, garnering a grin from the youth.
- -
Legolas knew he was being followed long before the men came into sight. The heavy breathing, noisy footsteps, and hushed whispers to each other to "keep quiet" helped the elf, even over the sound of the rain, distinguish the size and number of the trackers.
Three of them, good sized, but not impossibly so. It would be no difficult feat to take them, especially since the storm and rain would likely disorientate them.
Legolas ducked into a side street- not that it was any less deserted than the main street at that hour, but it was a bit lighter there. Even he had trouble seeing through the darkness in the rain.
Men! he thought. They disgusted him. He could not believe they were following him to kill him for no reason other than that he had been present during the fight, and seeking someone to blame, they had laid it upon the stranger.
Because one of them attacked me, now they want to kill me?
Anger kindled inside of him as he silently slipped his twin blades out and held them ready over his shoulders, pressing his body close up against the side of a building. He un-consciously shifted his grip on the smooth white handles as the stealthy brush of boots on the rain-slicked cobblestones came closer to him.
Now!- with deadly speed and lethal precision, Legolas spun away from the wall and around the edge of the building, his blades cutting the air in a deft arc as metal clashed against metal and then caught the unsuspecting man in the stomach.
The man stumbled forward with a gasp, his blade clattering to the pavement as he gripped his stomach. Within the space of a second, Legolas knew something was wrong. This was not one of the men that had been following him....
- -
There! A truly long chapter! As promised! 10 pages long, three new characters, the priceless tavern brawl, and a cliffie to boot! Is everybody happy now? Really? Can you please let me your thoughts know then? Don't worry, I am not Saruman trying to pry the deepest darkest secrets from the depths of your soul! I'm a 14 year old kid sitting on her laptop on a sagging couch in California staring glumly at the screen because no-one likes my story!!! WHAT IN MIDDLE-EARTH HAPPENED TO ALL THE REVIEWERS!!!?? Has the second rise of Sauron happened without me? Am I really that bad?
Yea, nay, have-no-say? The button at the bottom titled "SUBMIT REVIEW" actually comes in very handy when you get the urge to tell me you loved/hated my chapter!!!!
So unless you have absolutely no idea how to use your mouse, CLICK IT! Pretty please!? How's this- (friendly persuasion): Cupcakes to all reviewers!!!!
- -
Thanks so much to Fiery Flames of Sapphire, Knux the Gaurdian, (a.k.a. Veaneaquende), forever-mortal, and farflung for reviewing! Because you were the only ones to review this chap, you all get special, chocolate cupcakes! Yay! lol