A/N : *Waves flag* We aren't dead. Life has just kind of happened to us this summer. Very sorry about the lack of posting, but hopefully the fall will not be quite so crazy. Enjoy the chapter.
The Nightrunners
Off the Map
Soundtrack : "Real World" ( Matchbox 20 )
I wonder what it's like to be the rainmaker
I wonder what it's like to know that I make the rain
I'd store it in boxes with little yellow tags on everyone
And you can come see them when I'm...done, when I'm
Done
I wonder what it's like to be a super hero
I wonder where I'd go if I could fly around downtown
From some other planet, I get this funky high on yellow
Sun
Boy I bet my friends will all be...stunned, they're stunned
[chorus]
Straight up, what did you hope to learn about here
If I were someone else, would this all fall apart
Strange, where were you, when we started this gig,
I wish the real world, would just stop hassling me
I wonder what it's like to be the head honcho
I wonder what I'd do if they all did just what I said
I'd shout out an order, I think we're out of this man get
me some
Boy don't make me wanna change my...tone, my tone
[chorus]
Please don't change, please don't break
The only thing that seems to work at all is you
Please don't change, at all from me
To you, and you to me
[chorus]
//Frodo ran blindly through the forest, with no thought in his panicked mind but flight. He didn't know why he was running, only that his very life, no, his very *soul* required that he escape. The forest was dark, filled with unearthly silence. The only sounds in the nightmarish scene was his own tortured breathing, and the pounding of his feet over the rough terrain. Branches whipped at his face; clawed at his feet, but he hardly felt them. He had to run, before, before-
-a chilling scream shattered the night; seemed to tear through his very being. If possible, he ran even faster, fuelled by only his primal terror, the unbearable need to *get away*. He didn't risk a glance over his shoulder, knowing the horror heralded by the approaching hoof-beats. They pounded the earth just behind him, and he felt, clawing at the air about his head, the loathsome, oh-so-familiar touch.
'Give it up', a grating voice told him. 'Give us what we want'. The voices seemed to echo all around him, and he turned, slowing his head long sprint, knowing he was trapped. Slithering shadows surrounded him, all of them reaching clawed hands towards a tiny golden bauble he carried. He knew it was hopeless. Nonetheless, he reached towards his scabbard, pulling his blade defiantly...
...and stared at it, horror-struck. It wasn't the elegant elven sword he had carried throughout his quest, but a small knife, somehow familiar. It was the knife -he struggled to remember, surrounded by the darkness- it was the knife that he carried in his boot.
He looked around again, and the old nightmare suddenly took on a new turn.
The shadows melted and dissolved, and the forest warped into an unfamiliar lobby, so white that it was almost blinding. He spun wildly, trying to place his surroundings, and his stomach froze once more in horror. Eight women, led by a demon child in a red coat, advanced across the stone floor towards him. The leader, who he recognized as Trish, charged a spell, and he recognized with a jolt of horror the one that had almost killed him in New York. He reached for his knife, but it had somehow disappeared, and with the bizarre logic of dreams he knew he had to run again, that he couldn't let these demons reach him.
He turned and fled to the elevator, feeling the same mindless panic that always gripped him in his nightmares. He couldn't control his actions, it was if his body was refusing to obey what his mind told him.
He pounded on the call button, and the elevator doors seemed to open in slow motion. He moved to dive in, but a sudden arm across the door stopped him. A quick glance over his shoulder told him that he had run out of time.
But all at once, the Nazgul women faded to insignificance, if such a thing were possible. Felix's attention was rivetted to the man who had barred his entrance.
He was dressed normally, in a business suit and tie. But it wasn't his appearance that rooted Felix in place.
The man opened his eyes wide and hissed.//
************
"The nightmares have started again, haven't they?" Sam asked, as he and Felix walked across the well-kept promenade that led to the main entrance to White City Enterprises.
Felix glanced up, a look of panic fleeting across his face, though he covered it well. "What makes you say that?"
Sam rolled his eyes at this forced casualty. "It might have been that for the short period of time you were asleep last night, you thrashed about muttering about Black Riders, rings, and for some reason, elevators. Then you woke up gasping, and you didn't sleep for the rest of the night. It wasn't exactly hard to figure out."
Felix looked uncomfortable. "I thought you were asleep."
"I would have thought that you knew me better then that by now."
"I know, you're right." The dark-haired ex-Ringbearer grinned hopefully. "But you came up with better things to do than sleep, anyway."
Sam wagged a finger threateningly. "No way, you're not changing the subject that easily. And you're not seducing me in broad daylight, in public."
"Am I so obvious?"
"No, but when you're trying to avoid a conversation you start to flirt. I think you run out of other ideas."
"Oh, wonderful," Felix said, looking none-too-thrilled with this theory.
"Besides, you've hardly said two words since we left the apartment, and you're staring off into the middle distance with this spaced-out expression on your face. That normally means you're thinking hard, and since you're not sharing, it must be the nightmares, based on last night."
Sam stopped, looking at him seriously. "So what's happened? These nightmares have been coming more and more often recently. What brought this one on? Was it the fight at the airport?"
Felix sighed, and glancing around, dropped his voice. "I don't know. It could have been. But the nightmares are different now."
"What do you mean?" Sam asked sharply.
"It's kind of blurry. I was running, just like always, but it wasn't in the forest, it was like a lobby. I didn't recognize it. And there was somebody there, somebody new. He spoke to me."
"What did he say?"
Felix hesitated, then dropped his gaze. "I don't remember."
For a brief moment, Sam looked disappointed. Then the expression was gone, and he replied briskly, "Okay, but let me know if you remember anything else." He gestured towards the main office building of White City Enterprise. "Let's check out the premises, shall we?"
The two young men entered through the revolving doors, and took in their surroundings. An ostentatious lobby, done in white stone...
Felix froze, his face a mask of horror. "Sam," he whispered, his voice strangled.
His friend's head whipped around at his tone. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"We have to get out of here."
"Why?" Sam whispered urgently, looking confused.
"Sam, this is the lobby from my dream."
************
"Felix, are you all right? Felix? Dammit, Frodo!"
Sam was looking with concern at his best friend. Felix was busy leaning over a stone railing, throwing up.
Sam glanced around cautiously. Felix had gotten what he judged to be a 'safe distance' away before being violently ill, but Sam was still worried. He brushed the hair back from his lover's face, and Felix raised his head, still looking faintly green. "Sorry," he said weakly. "I didn't mean to go to pieces like that-"
"Hey, it's okay," Sam replied, in a manner that he hoped was reassuring. "It must be tough finding out that your nightmares are based on real places."
"It's not just that," Felix whispered, leaning in to Sam's touch. "That place is dangerous. I could *feel* it, like a sixth sense or something."
"Your hobbit-like perseverance, maybe," Sam said wryly. "Seems everybody is following their instincts these days. I suppose it is dangerous, though, if you're dreaming about fighting the Nine there."
Felix turned away, and watched a metro train rumble somewhere below them. "There's more than that," he admitted. "Sam, it was *him*.
"Who?"
"Sam, I think someone in there *remembers*. I think they're waiting for us."
Sam was already reaching for his phone. "I'm calling Gabe. There's no way in *hell* we're going back in there without backup."
************
"What? Seriously? Okay, make sure you're clear, and then stay put. I'll be there as soon as I can."
Gabe cut the connection, and tucked the cell phone back into his coat. "Bad news, my friend," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "Our hobbits sound like they're in over their heads. Do you think you can manage by yourself for an hour?" His voice sounded hollow even to his own ears.
Legolas didn't reply. Then again, Gabe hadn't really expected an answer. His chest still rose and fell, his breathing somewhat more steady than it had been that morning. Gabe was still hesitant to leave him, but really, what choice did he have? Sam had sounded rattled on the phone, and the professor didn't want to think what could have done that to the normally unshakable hobbit.
He headed for the door, but couldn't resist one final glance at the injured elf.
************
"Don't you think we should wait for Gabe?"
"Sam, I'm telling you, it's just nerves. I'm fine now, really. I can do this."
Felix's look was stubborn. Sam recognized that look all too well. He was currently headed towards the entrance of White City Enterprises, Sam almost running to keep up.
"This is a really bad idea," Sam warned, and Felix spared him another glance as he pushed his way through the revolving doors once more.
"You don't have to come, you know." Felix's voice was softer.
A snort was his only reply.
The two made their way over to a bank of elevators, and if Felix felt any residual fear from his nightmare, he relentlessly quashed it. Pushing the call button, he ignored his pounding heart.
It never pays to ignore a sixth sense, especially when you're a reincarnated ringbearer.
The doors slid open, and Felix exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. A man stepped out, and smiled at them both. "Welcome to White City Enterprises, Mr. Baker, Mr. Gardener. We've been expecting you."
In their overwhelming surprise, a slight hint of recognition went unnoticed in both hobbits.
************
Back in le Quartier Notre-Dame, Bloc 709, three individuals were breaking into a nice apartment.
"The door is warded, a couple of powerful spells. Some real locks, too."
"Hmm, they're evidently very protective of something."
One of the burglars rolled his eyes. "They must protect their precious prince," he replied dryly.
The third member of the group pushed his way to the front. "Let me at the wards," he said brusquely. Placing both hands on the door, he muttered a few syllables under his breath, and the spells flared briefly before dying.
He stepped away from the door, waving one of the others forward. "Go, work your magic on the locks."
"Who needs magic?" came the reply, as the other unrolled a case of lockpicks.
Several minutes later, the door swung open, admitting the three thieves.
In the bedroom, an elven prince lay unconscious and helpless.
************
"We've been hoping you would come," the man said. "I'm Garrett, personal assistant to Darryl Stuart."
Felix and Sam both gave him blank looks. "He's the CEO of White City Enterprises," the newly-identified Garrett explained.
"Um...okay." Sam shot Felix a look, one which asked the burning question: 'what the hell is going on?'
They stood in uneasy silence, watching the numbers slowly rise. //We must be near the surface by now.// Felix thought.
Eventually Garrett felt moved to speak, explaining, "We've heard that Mr. Gordon has returned to Paris, and we are pleased to welcome any associates of his."
"Mr. Gordon?" Felix mouthed behind the assistant's back. "Adam? How do they know he's here?"
Sam shrugged helplessly.
At that moment, the elevator doors opened, and any further chance to question Garrett was lost. "Right this way."
************
The three men opened the bedroom door, revealing the unconscious elf.
"Get him out of here, now," one ordered.
************
Sam didn't quite know what to expect of the CEO of one of the world's most powerful companies, but Darryl Stuart certainly wasn't it. He and Felix were ushered into the well-appointed office, where they saw the man for the first time.
He wasn't particularly large, sat behind a formidable desk covered with computer consoles and printouts. His severely-cut suit was negated by the friendly grin he wore.
"Well, well, well. Felix Baker, Sam Gardener." He rose, offering them his hand. "I'm very pleased to meet you at last. Sit down, won't you?"
Slightly wary, they accepted the chairs.
"Can I offer you boys a drink? Lake Merlot?"
The two exchanged glances, remembering what had happened the *last* time somebody had offered them Lake Merlot. "No, thank you. And I don't mean to be rude or anything," Felix said, "But how do you know who we are?"
Darryl laughed. "After that incident in the JFK airport, how could I not? You boys know how to take care of yourselves, I'll give you that."
Sam narrowed his eyes slightly. "We had some help."
Darryl acknowledged this point with a wave of his hand. "Of course, of course. Heard that elf of yours took quite a beating."
Two heads shot up suddenly. "Elf?" Felix asked, trying to hide his surprise and failing.
"What? Oh yes, I know all about Middle Earth, the Elves, and Hobbits."
Both hobbits managed to get their expressions under control. "Pardon me?" Sam asked.
Darryl smiled disarmingly. "You don't have to pretend around me, boys. I know that there are elves about, who have been in contact with you."
Neither Felix or Sam had any reply to this, so Darryl continued: "I know you're friends of Adam, and I don't want to see you getting mixed up in any kind of unpleasantness."
"Unpleasantness?"
Darryl nodded, his expression suddenly serious. "Those elves are bad news. Trust me, I've dealt with Goldenwood for years. If they've been in contact with you, they want something."
"Really?"
"Yes. Smug, manipulative bastards, every last one of them. They live forever, and they think it makes them better than us puny mortals." He shook his head. "Take my advice. Stay away from them. They're only interested in themselves."
"We'll keep it in mind," Felix said nonchalantly.
"Good for you. I know you're smart, boys. Any friend of Adam's would have to be. Sharp boy, that one. I suppose he told you about me?"
Neither hobbit knew how much they should give away. "He's mentioned you, yes," Sam said.
"Mentioned me? Well, how's that for family loyalty? I practically brought the boy up, after his parents died and all. And now I catch word that he's here in Paris, right under my nose, and he doesn't bother to show his face?" His voice was sharp; suddenly as if realizing this, he seemed to make a conscious effort to relax. "But I understand, of course. It's been ten years, after all, and maybe he just hasn't had time to drop in."
"Yes, you know Adam, always working." Felix sent a desperate glance at his companion, and Sam rose to the challenge.
"Oh yes, barely sleep, just works. In fact, this is only a flying trip, you know. Business. What can you do? In fact, I don't know if he'll be able to get away for even a second."
"Well, I can understand that. Just let Adam know that I'm asking after him, alright? And are you sure I can't interest you in some Lake Merlot? It's quite rare now. This is a 2032 vintage, almost impossible to find. I recently...acquired a bottle from a contact in New York."
Felix heard Sam draw in a sharp breath. He glanced to his companion, the swiftly concealed expression confirming his fears.
//That bottle was open when we came in. Twenty thirty-two Lake Merlot, probably only one bottle in New York. And it had to have come from Legolas's apartment. Jesus Christ, we're travelling off the map now, and there are dragons here.//
"Thank you, anyway," he said, praying their shock had passed unnoticed. "But we've got to get back to the others. We've been gone quite some time and they'll be sure to worry."
Felix wasn't sure if the veiled warning had registered on Darryl, but the CEO was fortunately not preventing their departure. "Certainly," he replied. "Tell Adam to come see me some time, will you?"
"No problem," Sam assured him, eager to escape.
"And remember what I told you about those elvish bastards, hmm?"
Felix shivered involuntarily. He'd heard Gabe use those same words to describe Legolas, but something in Darryl's inflection seemed...wrong. There was a coldness in those words, hidden beneath layers of affability. Suddenly, Felix couldn't wait to get out of this office.
Without further farewell, the two hobbits headed for the door in the outer office.
*************
Felix and Sam couldn't get out of the building fast enough, emerging back out into the underground pavillion with obvious relief. "Okay, did that guy seriously creep you out?" Sam asked.
Felix shivered. "Yes, he did. How did he find all that stuff out about us?"
"I don't know. We should-"
A hand landed heavily on Sam's shoulder, spinning him around. He saw Felix go for his knife before relaxing: "Gabe."
His face was a mask of controlled fury. "What were you thinking, going in without backup?"
Felix held up both hands. "It's okay. I don't think White City means any harm, at least not at the moment. Come on, let's get back the apartment. We'll fill you in on the way."
************
In his inner office, Darryl turned to Garrett, who had hovered in the corner throughout the entire exchange. "Follow those two. Find their apartment. But don't kill them. Yet."
He never lost the affable smile.