Bloodlines
The Messy Rescue

"Winston Havlock at your service," said the more than slightly inebriated person before them, who then hiccupped and blinked his eyes a few times before settling them on Legolas' hair. "I say, is this what the young men are doing in London these days? I suppose styles have a way of coming back into fashion, eh?"

Legolas exchanged an amused look with Aragorn, then shook his head. "It may be as you say, good sir. It...keeps the sun off." His Ranger friend grinned at that. Cocking his head back a little, the Elf waited with a mild expression, though his heart raced with anticipation of reaching their destination. They were already long behind the priest's flight, and he knew not how one could chase an evil that moved with the very winds. Still, Jonathan had to have a reason for this delay.

Jonathan nodded good-naturedly. "Yes, yes. All the young men are doing it. Anyways, we were wondering if perhaps you would care to um...offer a little help. You see we have to get somewhere really fast and well, your flying prowess comes second to none, and-"

"Prowess indeed," Havlock laughed, taking a sip from a flask he had brought with him to the Fort where they were all present. "But I'm not in the habit of flying young men around without reason. Your friends aren't criminals, are they? Her Majesty's Royal Air Force can't be bothered with that sort of business."

Carnahan gave a laugh and shook his head. "Criminals? Heavens no. No, see my sister's gone and gotten herself kidnapped by um, let us say a rather unscrupulous sort, you know, dark and evil...criminal, in fact. But he's already got a head start on us."

"There is no one else that can help us," Aragorn added urgently, causing the drunk to look up at him in what appeared to be an attempt at a grave expression. Legolas wondered if his friend really knew that there was no one else, or if he were following Jonathan's lead and embellishing just a bit. It was yet to become apparent just how this strange man could, in fact, help.

Winston scratched at his head, jarring the hat upon his brow into an unsightly position. "A criminal, you say? I don't suppose there is a good chance I could die, is there?" The Elf tensed, feeling disappointment well up inside him. He could not allow that this innocent man be led by hidden truths. This Winston Havlock would have to be told of the very real risks involved.

To the surprise of Legolas, Jonathan offered up the truth without blunting it. "Oh, definitely," he answered, nodding vigorously. "More than half a chance. More than three quarters, if I understand this criminal right enough." This was taking truth perhaps a bit too far, the Elf thought privately, but couldn't fault Jonathan for telling it.

However, contrary to expectation, Havlock did not shrink away in anxiety. His expression became bright and very agreeable. "Well, why not then? Sounds like a prime opportunity and as a loyal servant of Her Majesty I can hardly refuse a fellow countryman. Come then." The Men of this time were getting stranger to the eyes of this Elf.

With a satisfied smile, Jonathan nodded towards where Havlock was walking (quite off balance, at that) and began to trail after him. Exchanging looks, both Legolas and Aragorn followed, and the Elf sighed softly. "What is it?" his friend asked him quietly.

Legolas looked up at Aragorn gravely. "The race of Men is an old race in these days. They are coming to know the sorrow of Elves I fear, the sorrow that comes from the ages of time. Elves know it in our days, for we live long enough to embrace it. Here it has been bred into their beings through centuries of toil, I think. I see something in their eyes that I understand, though I am not an old Elf by the reckoning of my people."

The Ranger nodded thoughtfully, gazing ahead as Jonathan disappeared behind a gate. "You may be right, but I see hope also. Let us pray it extends over us and over Evelyn."

"Indeed."

They entered into the gate that the other two had disappeared into. Here Legolas saw a great strange something he could not identify. It seemed as an automobile, made of metal and boasting of wheels, but had wings on either side of it. He looked into the face of Jonathan, wondering at the uncomfortable sort of smile he saw reflected back. "Right, well, there's room for Winston in the front sure enough and another seat there in the back," he said a little too cheerfully, running his hand through his hair.

Winston was looking over the device with the same thoughtfulness. "Ah. I have just the thing," he said, then scuttled off to a few boxes nearby. Legolas watched as he dragged all manner of things out of it, tossing them aside until at last he brought out a length of rope and held it up speculatively. Jonathan gave a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of his neck as Winston approached with it. "There's some goggles in one one of the boxes over there," the old man said, pointing over Jonathan's shoulder. "It'll be a rough ride, but we'll manage. Two of you will have to ride on the wings."

"Wings?" Aragorn repeated, glancing at the craft suspiciously. "What sort of vehicle is this? Are you telling me this will fly?"

Havlock, to his credit, did try to respond, but Jonathan cut him off abruptly. "No worries, chaps. It's totally safe. Let's get those goggles, shall we?" He jogged over to where Winston had pointed, rifling through and pulling out some rather odd looking helmets. Again Legolas shared a look with his friend, wondering just what was afoot. A helmet struck his chest and slid down to the sand, and the Elf sighed, picking it up. He frowned at its appearance, watching as one fell into Aragorn's hands. The Ranger pulled it over his head and Legolas grinned, seeing two blue eyes peer at him through two small windows. He pulled his own over his head and Aragorn looked him over critically.

"Well, which of you knows the best way to where we're going?" Havlock asked, still holding the ropes.

"I know the way," Aragorn replied, looking to Jonathan in question.

Their companion paled at the Ranger's claim, pacing a few steps. His expression looked sickened, but took on a resolved expression as he waved his hand. "Right, well, I suppose you would. I know the way, but not that well and you with your..." he waved his hand again, "your skills. All right. Let's get this thing done, shall we? I'll be all right."

Winston shrugged as if it were nothing and motioned Jonathan over to one of the wings. Legolas watched as his friend endured being tied down, the ill expression he wore slow to fade. Had Aragorn been correct? Would they take flight? It seemed unrealistic to believe any being that was neither bird, nor dragon had harnessed the winds for travel, but he did not put it past the Men of this age. When Winston straightened and pointed him towards the other wing, Legolas hesitated. "This is like an automobile?" he asked, eyebrow raised. Part of him hoped Aragorn had been wrong.

Havlock looked rather confused at that, then shrugged again. "Never heard it put quite like that before, but I guess you wouldn't be wrong in saying they're alike in some ways. Are you with us on our merry adventure, then?"

"Yes," Legolas replied, resigning himself to the unknown. "Of course. Aragorn, will you..." He left it hanging, hoping his friend would take the hint and watch that his bindings were secure for whatever strange ride these two were getting him into. He was reassured to see those blue eyes watching every knot and when it was done, he nodded softly. It was comforting...somewhat.

Winston stumbled a bit and motioned Aragorn onto the top of the great steel beast, where he seated himself inside it. The stout little man then laboriously pulled himself up and deposited himself in front of the Ranger. A moment later the vehicle came alive, vibrating beneath him with a strength that made Legolas clutch to the steel beneath his fingers. He shuddered to think that this thing was being driven by someone clouded by ale, and was tempted to tell them to stop, they would find another way. But he remembered Evelyn and felt ashamed of his own fear.

The craft began to move out of the open gate that it was facing towards. It chased the desert floor before them at a decent pace and Legolas felt reassured, casting the last of his nervousness aside.

And then they left the ground.

Nothing, not even a suspicion, could have prepared him for this, and all at once he understood why Jonathan had remained silent, why he had been pale and skittish. It was terrifying, and yet the higher they got the more Legolas found himself unable to tear his eyes off the landscape. His hair whipped around wildly and he was chilled by the rapid winds biting at his body, but there was also a great understanding dawning upon him. This was the way of an eagle. Precious few in his own time rode with the great birds, and all at once he both envied them and appreciated the gift they were given. This was amazing.

But the winds were rough and the flight not as free as that of a bird. Legolas held on to the wing beneath him, conscious that if this drunken man made a mistake it could end in their very deaths. Part of him wished to close his eyes and hide the danger from his vision, but the view captured him and held him in snare. He could only watch and trust that fate would see them through. The gift this risk awarded was a vast swiftness with which they stood a chance to catch up to the dread priest.

Curious, Legolas turned his head to see how Aragorn was faring and saw the Ranger's eyes alight, gazing upon the skies and sands in the same wonder. Jonathan, however, was not doing so well. The Elf could not see him, but he could hear the groans of illness and fear coming from the other side of the craft. He wondered if the Englishman had often allowed himself to be strapped to a wing for fast travel. Was this perhaps a usual method of reaching other places quickly? He could not imagine his father allowing himself to be strapped down and flown like this, nor Lord Elrond or any other Elven Lord, save perhaps the twins of Rivendell. They would enjoy this, Legolas knew without a doubt, with as reckless as they could be.

The moments passed as the winds, quick and untraceable. Before long he marveled as he could see the ruins of Hamunaptra in the distance. He recalled the night he and Aragorn had arrived at this strange place, looking down on it now. But it was different in the light, not as terrible or intimidating in appearance. Yet there was one more distinctive difference. A black dot marred the sandy view below. From their distance he doubted neither Winston, nor Jonathan or even Aragorn could see the figure waiting at Hamunaptra, but the keen vision of the Elves gave Legolas the knowledge of what was to come. A dark form held something in his arms, and the nearer they got, the more the Elf could see it. It was one of the guns he had been shown, long and black. He turned his head quickly and yelled, "There is someone waiting for us! They have a weapon!"

"A weapon, you say?" Winston repeated almost eagerly, making Legolas curl his fingers in tension along the metal beneath his hands. The older man laughed and swooped in for a closer look, cocking his head back to yell at Aragorn, "I say, d'you know how to use that mounted gatling gun back there?"

Legolas looked back and saw his friend already studying the device. The Ranger seemed to waver, but put his hands on the metal nonetheless, feeling along it. He had not fired one of these weapons in all their time here. As Aragorn turned the gun towards the sands a loud crack filled the air, and below Legolas saw a puff of smoke drift from the man on the sand. This was not the priest, but someone with a smaller frame, with a dark mustache and a red hat upon his head. The small figure took aim again, following the craft, waiting for an opportunity. "Aragorn, put your hand on the trigger and squeeze!" he called out.

"And for god sakes, watch your bloody aim!" Jonathan shouted in addition, sounding more than a trifle panicked.

The stranger missed his chance as Aragorn took aim and fired uncertainly, pelting the sand with bullets. They did not hit their target, but did send their foe back among the pillars to hide, shouting at them and waving his arms. Legolas groaned at his own helplessness. If only he could reach his bow! But it was strapped down to his back tightly. He would have privately enjoyed the challenge of firing from this strange vehicle, even as he lamented the barrier between they and Evelyn that this man was causing.

Another storm of bullets met the stones of Hamunaptra's pillars, but did not strike the dodging enemy, for he was as a mouse, swift of feet and skilled at hiding. Their foe peeked from around his chosen spot, aiming once more even as Aragorn mirrored his actions. There was a trade of fire that ended with their enemy jerking back into his hiding spot. "Hold on, laddies," Winston called cheerfully, wheeling their craft around for a better shot. "We'll take him out yet!"

The Ranger said nothing and Legolas shared the silence, hoping they indeed could 'take him out'. Aragorn kept his aim true with the movements of their craft, watching and waiting, and Legolas found his breath held as they circled around. He had lost sight of their foe, who was not in the same spot as he had been. Knitting his brow, the Elf darted his eyes over the site, searching for any hint of him. Footprints littered the sands, going off in all directions and leading him to no single trail.

It did not matter, however, for the man whipped around another pillar, catching sight of them to aim. Aragorn fired and so did their enemy, and Legolas watched as their foe fell back to the ground, vanquished. He turned to give his friend a thankful nod and saw a thing that dashed all fleeting thoughts of victory. Blood trickled down the face of their new, drunken companion from a wound in the middle of his forehead. Winston was indeed dead, just as he had hoped he would be. The craft was not being guided by any means, slowing and soaring forward endlessly. "Aragorn!" Legolas shouted, his eyes wide as he realized this could end very dangerously, if not with the end of their very lives.

The Ranger was already moving, gently pushing their fallen friend aside so he could examine the controls. Legolas could not see or advise, once again helplessly watching and praying his destiny had not brought him here to perish. Gripping something in the front, Aragorn moved his arms and their path altered, sending them swirling to the right. Yet there was a real fear on the Ranger's face, and Legolas knew what it was causing it. They could fly in circles for hours and still be bound to the air, for mastery over the steering did not come with mastery over all this machine's workings. "How do we land?" the Elf heard Aragorn yell above the wind.

"Well, I don't bloody know!" Jonathan nearly screeched, his panic escalating. "That's why I hired him to pilot the bloody plane in the first place! We're all going to join him in a moment!"

Legolas rubbed his forehead thoughtfully, trying to imagine a way out of this scenario, when he noticed the plane slowing of it's own volition. The nose dipped towards the sands and he took a sudden, quick breath. "I have a feeling this plane will land without our help!" he called, glancing up at his friend.

"Um, um...pull back!' Jonathan stammered, waving his hand as if it would force the knowledge to come to him. "The wheel, pull back on the wheel! It will bring the nose back up...I think!"

Aragorn took no time to ponder and hope, and obeyed. By the mercy of the Valar the nose of the craft straightened. "Perhaps we can save this situation. If we circle, perhaps we can land more gently!"

Legolas could not see how. The momentum of their descent alarmed him. However they hit the ground he did not think it would be gentle by any definition of the word. He held himself tense, waiting as the endless and yet all too rapid moments melted away. Aragorn guided the plane as best be could with his lack of knowledge, but it was a rocky ride downwards. They each waited for death to come on swift wings, but by some miracle the bottom wheels touched the sands straight. Legolas held his breath, closing his eyes as a splash of the gritty stuff showered over him, then reopened them in time to see one of the walls of Hamunaptra coming towards him. That sand was slowing them quickly, but not quickly enough. "Braces yourselves! I cannot free you in time!" Aragorn hissed and the Elf did just that, covering his head against the imminent impact.

The plane hit the wall a bit hard, but the loss of velocity had given much aid in keeping the impact from being too violent. It rocked backwards a few yards, rolling to a stop some few yards back from it. When he was sure everything was still, Legolas opened his eyes, surprised he could open them. His arm pained him and he looked up, seeing the metallic nose of the plane scrunched backwards with all sorts of dangerous new edges and points along the once smooth lines. One of these edges had sliced into his arm. Legolas groaned at the pain of that and the headache that was growing from all the impacts it had taken in the past day, but he was mindful of his friends. "Aragorn?" he called, darting his eyes around the scene. "Jonathan?"

"Here!" called the voice of the first, but from a very different place than the seat of the plane. Legolas glanced up and saw the Ranger stumbling through the sand, pulling his goggles off to let them fall to the ground. He ran his hands through his hair and shook his head, sending little grains all around him. "I jumped from it at the last, knowing if I did not it would throw me forward as a horse that stops quick. I do not think I would have been in very good shape should that have happened."

Legolas rolled his eyes and waved Aragorn off. "Check on Jonathan," he said, though he did not relish spending any more time tied down to this thing than he had to.

"I...I'm all right, chaps," their English friend responded as Aragorn closed in on him. He sounded very ill. Removing his sword from his side, Aragorn sliced him free and Jonathan scrambled to the sand where Legolas could see him. He looked up at the Elf with a pale face, giving a friendly little wave.

The Elf glared as Aragorn circled the plane to set him free. "I should kill you for all of this," he said testily, and his friend hesitated in cutting him down. Legolas sighed. "But I shall let someone less compassionate than I attend to that happy duty." His ties were cut and he pulled himself off the wing, making the Englishman scoot back quickly. He threw one last glare at him before drawing the severed edges of his sleeve open to peer at his wounded arm. The long cut stung and traveled deeper than a mere surface wound, but he would not allow it to get in the way of rescuing Evelyn. Checking his weapons, he looked his companions over and said, "We should go inside."

Jonathan and Aragorn both nodded their agreement and readied themselves for the battle before them. They followed the Elf towards the opening to the dark city and the three of them entered warily, listening with careful ears and watching with cautious eyes for any sign of the deadly priest. Or Evelyn. Legolas kept mindful of any sign of her passing, any scrap from torn clothing or footsteps in the dust, but there was nothing to betray where Imhotep had dragged her off to. Inside Hamunaptra the torches were burning in all directions. The Elf drew his bow and heard his friends draw their weapons as well, for what good they would do them.

"Do you recall the way through this maze of darkness?" Legolas asked his companions.

The Englishman snorted. "Hell if I know. The last time I was here I was pretty well trying to concentrate on getting out, not deeper inside.

Aragorn shook his head, likewise as lost. "'Twas dark when we came, and disorienting. I could not guess where the creature may have taken her."

"Then we must be cautious and silent." The Elf chose a path at random, pointing into a dim hallway. "It has an ill feel to it."

"This whole bloody place has an ill feel to it," Jonathan grumbled as they crept down the hall. He gasped softly and stopped short as a spider dropped from a web right in front of him. "That's always a good sign, isn't it?"

The Elf grunted and kept moving. "You should see the ones near my home."

Torches were few and far between down this path, giving them little light to travel by and they wended their way through the turns and twists. It was both a blessing and a curse. "I have a bad feeling about this," Jonathan murmured as they came to another intersection. Legolas stopped and Jonathan rammed into him, nearly causing him to topple over. Murmuring an apology, he pushed away and glanced over the Elf's shoulder, then stopped short as well. "And now I feel much worse." There was a large beetle on the ground, twitching and watching them speculatively. "Aragorn, old boy?"

"Yes?" the Ranger replied, uncertain at the tension in the air.

"Kill that thing. Now."

The sound of Aragorn's sword coming down upon the bug was unpleasant at best. Legolas turned his head to glance at their friend. "You do not like bugs?"

The Englishman shrugged thoughtfully. "Not ones that bring friends and mass over a man, eating him whole." He grinned at the Elf's expression. "I know. It just keeps getting a little bit more fun as each moment passes."

"Fun is not the word I would use to describe it," Legolas replied ironically. He was no stranger to the forces of darkness turning the innocence of nature against the forces of good.

Nodding his agreement, Jonathan motioned them onwards, saying, "Yes, well, if you would like to avoid meeting any more of those things, I suggest we get out of here before there's no other choice. Just do me a favor and don't ever say anything about how this situation could be worse."

Aragorn raised his eyebrow at him, stepping in beside him as they continued on. "Why is that?" he asked curiously.

"Because it almost always guarantees things will get worse." They came to an entry into a large room, shining much brighter than anywhere else they had been. They stopped at the top of a set of stairs leading down into a sea of gold. "Whereas the warning of such seems to have the opposite effect. Would you look at all that?"

They didn't get the chance to take it all in. Jonathan yowled and hurled himself away, and his two companions turned to see his attacker. It was dark, decaying, and hideous. Legolas notched an arrow to his bow, drew it back, and shot at the bandaged figure shuffling towards Aragorn. His arrow sliced into the hanging flesh, but had no other effect. "I think your logic is flawed," he commented, notching another arrow.

Jonathan held up his gun, but didn't look very hopeful. "Yes, well, I'll never make that mistake again."

The Ranger drew his sword and sliced at the creature before him, even as another came shifting out of the shadows, followed by another. "Do either of you have any ideas?" he asked, defending against one as another grabbed for his shirt and tried to jerk him back.

Legolas moved to sling his bow behind his back, but Jonathan stopped him. "Both of you follow me. I have an idea."

Dislclaimer: No infringement intended. Idn't that awesome?
Author: Ruse - angelruseATgmailDOTcom
Notes: Well, just thought I'd add a bit more, inspired by Marcher's sticking with her story. (Captain of His Soul, you can find her in my reviews if you want to read her Mummy stories). Enjoy!