"Clark, we're going to the hardware store. We'll be back in a half an
hour." Martha Kent yelled up the stairs.
"Okay. Bye!" replied Clark who was changing his clothes while trying the read through a book on foreign languages. As Clark flipped through the book, he could find no language that matched the one he was looking for. With a sigh he headed out to the barn to check on the woman he had taken.
Clark slowly unlocked the barn door and stepped inside. It was eerily quiet inside the barn until Clark gasped in surprise. She was gone and only the ropes were left. What happened next happened extremely fast.
"Utinu en lokirim!" The woman screamed as she leapt from the loft with a dagger in her hands. She simply bounced off Clark's back and the blade snapped right off the grip. She inhaled sharply and gazed at the grip in her hand, then at Clark. She saw he was not hurt and her eyes grew wide like saucers. The grip fell from her hand and she screamed. Quickly, Clark grabbed her by the wrists and covered her mouth.
"Ahem." said the stranger in the door frame. Clark looked up startled at the man in the doorway. The young man was about Clark's age, but already was starting to grow a beard. He stared at Clark with hazel eyes that were barely visible underneath long, messy black hair. "It is always your way to kidnap royalty?"
"Royalty?" Clark repeated in surprise while he looked the stranger over. "And how long have you been standing there? Hold still!" He struggled with the woman a bit and she managed to yell "Llie n'vanima ar' lle atara lanneina!" before he got her quiet again.
"Long enough, Clark. Long enough." The man gave a chuckle, "She does have a point there. Even if she is too brave for her own good." He strode towards Clark, his boots crunching the bites of hay scattered on the floor.
"You understood that? All of it? What did she say?" Clark asked anxiously.
"Yes, of course I did. She said that you're ugly and your mother dresses you funny. I must admit you are dressed strange. Flannel? So last year." He said treating Clark like a simpleton.
"Do I know you?" Clark said with a hint of irritability in his voice. "You know my name, but I can't seem to remember yours." Clark tightened his grip on the woman the closer he came.
"You don't, but she does." He tilted the woman's head up so she would look at him. "I haven't seen you in a long time." "Alakgristion." The woman breathed.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Pete pushed himself off the ground and looked around the cell. The walls were made out of stone and there was a wooden bench with a blanket folded up on the end. There was a hole dug into the corner of the cell, but nothing else. Quickly he went to the door and peered through the bars. The hallway lined with doors on both sides and at each end there was a guard.
"Is it dinner time already?" the guard greeted a woman holding a tray of food.
"Yes, it's potatoes and carrots tonight. Enjoy!" She said while handing him a plate with cooked carrots and potato salad. "May I have the key to prisoner number eight's cell, so I can give him his dinner?"
The guard gave the woman the key reluctantly. Pete looked down at his cell door, the number eight was etched plainly on it. He pressed himself against the wall as she turned the key in the lock.
"Okay. Bye!" replied Clark who was changing his clothes while trying the read through a book on foreign languages. As Clark flipped through the book, he could find no language that matched the one he was looking for. With a sigh he headed out to the barn to check on the woman he had taken.
Clark slowly unlocked the barn door and stepped inside. It was eerily quiet inside the barn until Clark gasped in surprise. She was gone and only the ropes were left. What happened next happened extremely fast.
"Utinu en lokirim!" The woman screamed as she leapt from the loft with a dagger in her hands. She simply bounced off Clark's back and the blade snapped right off the grip. She inhaled sharply and gazed at the grip in her hand, then at Clark. She saw he was not hurt and her eyes grew wide like saucers. The grip fell from her hand and she screamed. Quickly, Clark grabbed her by the wrists and covered her mouth.
"Ahem." said the stranger in the door frame. Clark looked up startled at the man in the doorway. The young man was about Clark's age, but already was starting to grow a beard. He stared at Clark with hazel eyes that were barely visible underneath long, messy black hair. "It is always your way to kidnap royalty?"
"Royalty?" Clark repeated in surprise while he looked the stranger over. "And how long have you been standing there? Hold still!" He struggled with the woman a bit and she managed to yell "Llie n'vanima ar' lle atara lanneina!" before he got her quiet again.
"Long enough, Clark. Long enough." The man gave a chuckle, "She does have a point there. Even if she is too brave for her own good." He strode towards Clark, his boots crunching the bites of hay scattered on the floor.
"You understood that? All of it? What did she say?" Clark asked anxiously.
"Yes, of course I did. She said that you're ugly and your mother dresses you funny. I must admit you are dressed strange. Flannel? So last year." He said treating Clark like a simpleton.
"Do I know you?" Clark said with a hint of irritability in his voice. "You know my name, but I can't seem to remember yours." Clark tightened his grip on the woman the closer he came.
"You don't, but she does." He tilted the woman's head up so she would look at him. "I haven't seen you in a long time." "Alakgristion." The woman breathed.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Pete pushed himself off the ground and looked around the cell. The walls were made out of stone and there was a wooden bench with a blanket folded up on the end. There was a hole dug into the corner of the cell, but nothing else. Quickly he went to the door and peered through the bars. The hallway lined with doors on both sides and at each end there was a guard.
"Is it dinner time already?" the guard greeted a woman holding a tray of food.
"Yes, it's potatoes and carrots tonight. Enjoy!" She said while handing him a plate with cooked carrots and potato salad. "May I have the key to prisoner number eight's cell, so I can give him his dinner?"
The guard gave the woman the key reluctantly. Pete looked down at his cell door, the number eight was etched plainly on it. He pressed himself against the wall as she turned the key in the lock.