"Fight or flight implies a permanent choice. But flight often just means putting off the fight to another day. Choose your battles wisely Alice." –Doctor Wilson Alice: Madness Returns
Musical Inspiration: Creeping in My Soul by Cryoshell, Why Don't You & I by Carlos Santana, and Just Breathe Anna Nalick
A/N: Sorry for the long update but I had other things to do. I'm having a portrait done of Desmond, and Sadaana based off this fic by a very talented artist Lelia of . Hopefully you'll be hearing from me again soon. –Rei
When-You're-Evil- Awkward yes, Panic? Maybe not so much.
Luna Tigra- Thank you, Desmond is such a sympathetic character and I wanted to show that in this fic.
Isis the Sphinx- I'm glad you like it. I had to do some research for this fic to see how Desmond's story would fit into the Tolkien world.
It was as if the whole of the Bree-lands tried to squeeze into the Prancing Pony. And Halbarad Sindar of the gray company was both baffled and pleased that he and his companions went mostly un-hindered by the usual wariness of the towns-people. "Welcome back Halbarad, I assume you and your company's wanderings were well." The captain of the Gray Company looked down to see one of the few Bree-landers that held no malcontent for the rangers of the north. Pervinca looked up at him with a wicked little smile, her hands folded neatly over the pleats of her pumpkin colored skirt.
The young hobbit was a wonderful informer of the goings on in Bree, and the fact that she had little qualms in doing so despite her fellow towns-folk, it was a distinct mark in her favor with himself and his men."It has Pervinca, and it is good to see you in high spirits. Though I must admit some trepidation at so many are here so early." And bless her heart; Pervinca didn't even blink at the subtle demand for answers. She just motioned for one of his men to pull out a chair for her so that she could sit next to him.
"There was a traveler in the night, a wealthy man from the wilds." Pervinca gave him a mock accusatory look, "do you know him?" Halbarad's stern features didn't relax in the slightest bit, even as he raised his hands in an equally mocking surrender to the golden headed female's facetious scowl. Hazadaeth, and Henry whom were the only others his company whom dined to come with him on this excursion, discreetly coughed. They were long used to their commander's strange interaction with the little folk especially this particular lass of the little folk.
"I know not even the name of this mysterious guest of yours. Perhaps that will jog my memory if ever I met the man?" Halbarad's voice was decidedly dry in his own brand of humor. He leaned back in his seat, one of the few left from where the rest of those dining in the inn crowded around a single table. And as he did so, it wasn't hard to see the slightly more thoroughly searching look Pervinca shot him. The ranger was only slightly annoyed his golden headed friend assumed that he somehow knew about whatever came from the wilds of the North. To be fair he spent years wandering the Northern downs.
"Desmond was the name he gave to the guard on duty at the gate." The ranger was distracted from commenting on the strange nature of the name when he watched someone he recognized walked into the inn. Halbarad's jaw dropped as Sadaana of all people made her way to the table where the subject of their conversation was being swarmed by the most eligible women in the village. Garbed in a gown of chocolate damask, the frigid lady easily achieved the majesty of a woman of noble birth, where the others were but insipid imitations grasping at straws.
"Pervinca, what have you done?" asked a very much dazed Henry, voicing the stunned question that was unable to take form on his captain's tongue. It was no secret that Sadaana was the subject of much incessant nit-picking by her friends to find a husband. Pervinca had even once attempted to turn Halbarad's eye on the mysterious Gondorian maid. That was not to say the gray eyed ranger wasn't amiable to the idea. Sadaana was sharp of wit, and comely lady despite the weathering of her skin through years of labor.
But Sadaana was uninterested in marriage. All attempts of initiating courtship were evaded with long conversations of her various adventures that led her to Bree, and tales of his many wanderings around the North. She had done much the same to all the rangers whom Ennaido and or Pervinca convinced to vie for Sadaana's hand. "What," the hobbit glared at them defensively, "you thought that she was going to wait for one of you to come to your senses?" Honestly Henry wondered when Sadaana would tire of Pervinca, and Ennaido's prodding.
Sadaana shot an encouraging yet sympathetic smile at the one whom she was saving from the clutches of eager socialites. The poor man obviously had no societal mores from which he could draw, and was clearly stuck just trying to not drown in the maneuverings that would sat him at the mercy of his interrogators. Desmond responded with a gratefully inquisitive grin, confused but glad for whatever help he could get. Sadaana turned her attention to the worst of his antagonizes, "Good morn Bonny, I trust you and your friends have been keeping Mr. Butterbur's new guest much entertained?"
Sadaana was glorified with the momentary indignant sputtering of her nastiest tormentor since coming to Bree. Bonny Lamedon was born and raised in the village Bree proper. But her father, Nick was a trader whom married above his station to a lady of central Gondor for which her daughter derived her last name. Bonny never let anyone forget it either. "If you knew how to entertain a man, low-born perhaps they would keep you as a pet for more than one night." The woman's underlings tittered woodenly unusually cooperative now that a lower class woman seemingly encroached upon what they perceived as their territory.
Forcibly relaxing the set in her shoulders Sadaana smiled tightly. "And you of course are an authority of such things. I suppose your poor father cannot buy your way into the patronage of even an ignominious lord?" Bonny's face turned a sickening puce in her rage. Her perfectly manicured nails curled like talons, nearly ripping in chiffon overlay of her cerise pink gown. Her pretty sun-kissed features contorted in a valiant effort to retain the illusion of high born civility.
Desmond was hardly fooled. It didn't take eagle-vision to spot a sow when he saw one. Honestly the assassin thought of leaving the two hell-cats to go at it. As much as many people who ever met the former runaway questioned his intelligence, Desmond wasn't stupid. The former bartender knew that any interference on his part wouldn't be appreciated by either offended party. Ghostly impressions of stinging slaps, and indignant screams flashed behind the dark haired man's eye balls, was confirmation enough of that very fact.
Ezio may have been a smooth operator in his day, but Altair most certainly hadn't been. The assassin forcibly shoved the unwanted recollections away. The brainless twits seemed to close in on wavy haired lady, who had dared to help him. 'They were pretenders,' the Ezio in his head whispered, 'women without an ounce of grace of their own, let alone the training of a true courtier.' The part of him that was born and bred for violence recognized that none of the flowery upstarts could hold a candle to the true regal beauty. Honestly Desmond felt the undeniable urge to leave. This standoff was the perfect opportunity anyone with more than two brain cells would take.
Gazing upon the quietly fierce woman at his side, Desmond still couldn't find in himself to leave. "Miss I didn't catch your name." the dark man's strangely accented voice halted the hostility of the ladies seated with him flat. And for a moment the assassin feared that he screwed up somehow. "Please excuse, if I offended you somehow. I have spoken little in many years." Once again Desmond graced his companions with his slightly stumbling Soval Pharë (common speech); bumbling through the relatively new grammar that Vesta had taught him.
"Not at all my lord," Bonny butted in trying to intercede in any conversation her target could draw the low class bastard into. The merchant's daughter glared balefully at said bastard. "Where is it that you come from again?" Because as far as the golden eyed woman was concerned there was no way that someone with such a strange cadence could come from anywhere she had ever been. Bonny found herself instinctually drawn to fairness of the stranger's skin, which spoke of a Northerner's heritage. She was equally as captivated by his dark eyes which were just as savage as any Dunlending. Bonny liked the idea of taming such a wild thing to her pleasure.
Both Desmond and Sadaana chose to ignore her. "My name is Sadaana, my lord." She finally responded with a quirk of her lips. The gray eyed lady was just as enamored with the seemingly shy male within their midst, though her feelings were more of the protective variety. Curbing the scowl she wanted to send Bonny's way, Sadaana concentrated on trying to ease the tension stiffening the already unnatural set in the man's shoulders. Spreading her palms flat upon the table top to show him she honestly meant no harm, slowly as to not startle the skittish colt of a wealthy traveler.
Still her overture seemed to merely cause more discomfort, "please, I am no lord. Call me Desmond." The assassin grimaced; baring his well cared for teeth in a brief show of distaste. It was a breadth of a glimpse but it was all that was needed for those seated with him to note the perfection of his dental hygiene. This was no common man. His teeth were white as freshly fallen snow. If anything, Bonny's gaze became more ravenous. There was no doubt in her mind this man could be no less than royalty of some kind. Only the noblest of lines would ever have enough money for herbal mixes expensive enough to produce such results.
Before the sycophant could insinuate herself between the dark haired pair, another of Bonny's flunky's spoke up. "You have a beautiful smile sir Desmond." Giggled one of the blonde's more brainless associates, Puhuur was the fourth daughter of the mariner Isen. He was captain of one of the larger vessels Bonny's father commissioned to trade with the few villages along the Brandywine. Yet not for the first time Bonny wondered why her father saw fit to force the hapless fool into her circle of associates. Surely Isen's cooperation wasn't that essential to him?
Partly bemused and equally disturbed, Desmond again desperately looked to Sadaana for a solution. The gray eyed lady was too busy staring incredulously at Puhuur to notice. The assassin's wild gaze swung back toward the hopeful sun kissed features of the giggling gaggle of air-headed elite. And he wondered, what could've he possibly done, did he somehow murder Gandhi in a previous life? Did he butt fuck mother Teresa in front of a congregation comprised of the entire holy Roman Catholic Church, what could constitute this fifth level of hell Desmond found himself in?
"I imagine you haven't had time to see the rest of Bree yet Sir Desmond?" the young lady sitting beside Puhuur asked shyly. Desmond shook his head, all too aware that his brain to mouth filter wasn't working correctly. At the gesture the girl moved in closer, the raspberry color of her velvet gown sickening bright against the clashing mint green of Puhuur's paisley gown. "Then perhaps a tour is in order?" Before Desmond could even get a word in edgewise there were calls of affirmation all around. Even his savior turned traitor moved to pull him to his feet. Sadaana leaned close, "come, we can lose them at the jewelers. Such frivolous things will distract them well enough to slip away." Unable to refute her logic, Desmond allowed himself to be pulled along.
Henry followed Pervinca out of the inn, determined to keep a close eye on the mysterious man that the hobbit was intent on seeing court her friend. Halbarad didn't stop him, curious and wary himself. Sadaana was a woman without any male kin to speak for her, as far as he knew. And once more she was a friend to himself, and a number of his subordinates. The idea of the dark haired woman coming to harm was repugnant to the ranger. So he would watch, wait, and hope that Sadaana finally found some happiness. And be there if and or when things went to pieces.
Pervinca grinned madly as she and her silent shadow followed the veritable rainbow down the main street. She couldn't see who was leading the marry band of brainless fools, but the hobbit was more focused on the two people practically trailing behind the mass of pubescent hormones through the morning crowd. To the honey haired hobbit, Sadaana and Desmond were the epitome of a lord and lady straight out of the courts of Pelargir. Decked out in appropriately somber ware, the couple managed to fend off "the vultures" with almost supernatural precision.
"Pervinca, what were you thinking?" Henry hissed from his place just steps behind the honey haired hobbit. The young ranger didn't even bother trying to blend in as he kept one eye on the hobbit trying to be stealthy, and the other on the group that they were following. Every eye on the street was glued upon the group steadily making its way passed the many shops along the main street. "You don't even know the man whose favor, you are pushing Sadaana to pursue, let alone if he truly worth her affections."
Brown orbs narrowed yet didn't stray. "What business is it of yours?" Not even waiting for him to respond, the diminutive female began to hurry her steps while muttering insults about the males in general under her breathe. Nevertheless the ranger heard every word and turned the full force of his glare onto the little interloper. And silently Henry wondered when had the most clever of the little folk in Bree had become so obtuse. Sadaana's love life may not be any of his business, but it wasn't any of hers either.
Sadaana placed herself firmly on the foreigner's arm, and cattily conversed with the stragglers of their group. Desmond smiled politely and spoke little, but when tensions mounted high, the mysterious traveler would almost effortlessly intercede. An erroneous smile and quiet question seemed to the trick every time, though some persisted even then. Those who carried on were once again subjected to Sadaana, who added just a hint more acid to the already cutting bit of her tongue. The assassin was even more grateful that as of yet, none of the ladies were able to withstand the sickly sweet poisonous words of his savior yet.
It felt like it took forever to get to the jewelers, so when the hanging sign came in sight a heart stopping smile stole across Desmond's face. It was instantly wiped off by the unanimous sighs of the young ladies surrounding him. Determinedly the assassin tried to shake off the call to his libido which seemed to have recovered from its 3 million year dirt nap. None of these women, and he used that term very loosely, should appeal to him; not one of them could've been more than sixteen. 'Nothing is true, everything is permitted.' Desmond couldn't prevent the flinch from rattling his less than sturdy frame.
He felt Sadaana grip his arm worriedly, and he cast a strained smile her way. Disentangling his arm from hers, the only surviving American moved toward the shop. "I must thank you all for your kindness. Please come, that I might buy a gift in my appreciation." Immediately the girls faces lit up, and even the normally clever Bonny was reduced to smiling stupidly up at him. All of them moved to follow, but quiet words Desmond mouthed her way stilled Sadaana's steps. The assassin had a plan of his own.
Pervinca watched in confused panic as the man she was banking on finally capturing her friend's heart seeming abandoned her to attend the group of floozies not even a quarter of the woman that her friend was. Henry was mature for his young age but he couldn't resist, "I told you so." He gloated quietly crossing his arms over his chest. Vindicated the ranger momentarily forgot his own concern for Sadaana to rub Pervinca's nosiness in her face.
Gripping the folds of her skirts, the Bree native turned around to stick her glare at her partner in crime. "If I were but a few inches taller," Pervinca's tone was threatening despite her stature. The hobbit definitely wasn't afraid of anyone or anything, least of all one of Halbarad's rangers. But Henry was far from intimidated, the dour set in his lips curled upward in smug superiority. Pervinca was in the bad habit of getting an idea in her head and not listening to anyone else if someone contradicted her. Ennaido was much the same, only Henry didn't dare test her temper. There was something to be said about the woman's tendency toward through kitchen utensils.
Caught in his own recollections of being on the receiving end of Ennaido's temper, the stocky ranger nearly missed his much shorter acquaintance running over to join her seemingly abandoned friend. Momentarily stunned by Pervinca's stupidity, Henry was tempted to just go back to the Prancing Pony to report what he'd seen to his captain. Halbarad was a friend of Sadaana's as well, and though nowhere was nosey as the seamstress's other friends, the ranger still worried.
"What is he doing?" Sadaana all but jumped out of her skin as a voice just behind her scared her out of her anxious laced inquisitive thoughts. Turning around fast of enough to cause the train of her skirt to fan out, the ebony haired beauty gasped for breath before staring down at her smallest friend. Pervinca was glaring up at her as if somehow Desmond's sudden decision to buy the vultures trinkets was her fault. Stiffening the dark haired woman was unable to regain her regal bearings in the face both the Bree native's voiced, and un-voiced demands.
"Pervinca what in the name of Ainur do you think you're doing here?" Sadaana questioned, stunned by the fact that the hobbit had essentially spied on her. Something ugly twisted in the former Gondorian lady's gut. She had run away from her home to get away from this sort of thing. And yet here Pervinca stood, as one of Sadaana's only friends, doing the same mean-spirited shallow things that Sadaana had hoped she would never have to deal with again.
The seamstress desperately clung to her composure, caught between crying tears of frustration, screaming at her friend, or packing up her meager belongings and disappearing from Bree forever. 'Quick tempers makes for quick mistakes, and slow regrets.' She reminded herself. Shaking the haze as best she could, Sadaana struggled to speak without the deceptive call of fury clouding her words. This was her friend, and Sadaana didn't want to lose before the woman could say anything, Pervinca plowed forward without a thought in her head to stop herself. "Sadaana where is that sack of orc dung, I'll kill em' going off with those brainless trollops. I'll-
"You'll what?" Desmond glared menacingly over Sadaana's shoulder at the little troll who had insulted him. His left hand flexed with a practiced flick, causing the handle of his stiletto to drop closer to his palm. Because, although his eyes were on the little golden haired menace, his other senses were trained on the decidedly more threatening darkly garbed male she brought as back up. Desmond knew of only one way someone could move with the sort of awareness this man did. "You know these jokers Sadaana?"
Coloring with further irritated mortification Sadaana didn't dare turn around, as she glared both at Pervinca and Henry. "Unfortunately yes, Pervinca I expected something this obtuse of a scheme, but Henry you too?" Henry at least had the decency to look contrite while Pervinca stubbornly glared at her friend. The seamstress wanted to sigh. She knew all too well this side of her friend's character, and knew that her own compliance only added to the problem. This had to end, and it had to end now if Sadaana wanted to retain what was left of her dignity.
Deliberately turning to face the foreigner, Sadaana clasped her palms together. "I apologize, for my associates' behavior," the gray eyed lady ignored the indignant sputtering of her hobbit friend, and the sudden decrying answer from the young ranger. "They had it their heads for a while now that I needed to find myself a husband." Pausing Sadaana took in Desmond's reaction as emotions seemingly flashed across his face too fast to follow. "And I fear that I allowed them to push me into being no better than those," again she had to pause trying to curb the ugly words that wanted to emerge, "women who were quite shameful."
Desmond didn't know what to think. Silently the assassin observed the three people now staring at him. He understood, really he did, this wasn't his world, and even the smallest of social interaction were different. It didn't dampen the urge to jump up and down screaming while tearing his hair out in pure frustration any. And worst of all Desmond could feel the onset of a major headache coming, courtesy of the peanut gallery conducting a running commentary in the back of his mind. Straining the muscles in his face to produce a smile, the dark haired man strove to sink into denial. "I'll tell you what, finish showing me around and I'll forgive them." He grin became sincere at the relieved sigh that issued from the seamstress.
Sadaana was surprised at how well this little improv tour of Bree proper was going. Once they had given "the vultures" the slip, and left her nosey friends gaping in incredulity Desmond became a most engaging, and dare she think it 'charming' companion. The man's satiric nature shown through his often times stilted speech. With every dry observation Desmond made, either by what Sadaana informed him on, or whatever he figured out for himself, the many layers of the wild man were revealed to her. Desmond was humble, so unlike her brother whose ego could fill up the first three levels of Minis Tirith.
He didn't spare any thought to her femininity when he spoke, didn't treat her as if she were a brainless twit only meant to pop out the next generation. And Sadaana respected Desmond all the more for it. Yet at the same time he didn't sacrifice the gentlemanly air about him, as Desmond led her around the village on his arm, courteously accepting the few greetings that were thrown his way. And wistfully Sadaana couldn't help but to wonder where this man was when she came of age in the white halls of her former home.
Once they returned to the Prancing Pony Desmond thanked Sadaana for her pseudo rescue and tour of Bree before entering his temporary lodgings, and closing the door behind him. Immediately the assassin began to peel away clothing from his whip-cord frame. It had been a long day. And with his lumpy bed in sight, it was all Desmond could do to collapse with a silent prayer that he wouldn't dream tonight. "You are attracted to that female." Desmond groaned, "what do you want now?" the assassin asked while resisting the urge to glare down at the piece of jewelry around his neck.
"She would make a suitable maternal parental unit for the six." Desmond froze, once again unable to believe what he was hearing. The sheer stupidity boggled the assassin's mind. "Dude, I've just met the lady and you're already talk'n bout me handing her, the keys to the castle, and having her play mommy?" The assassin's stomach flip-flopped, because despite himself Desmond managed to conjure up a fantasy of life with Sadaana as his woman raising the six.
It wasn't a stretch to picture the prim and proper woman braiding each of the children' hair, and instructing them in manners Desmond wouldn't think to teach them. He could just as easily imagine himself spending his nights with her in bed exploring each other under the fluorescent glow of the Abies's lights. Sadaana was a beautiful, smart, and not to mention fierce woman. 'What more can a young, virile man ask for?' Desmond's thoughts whispered. Blood began to pool southward, as his thoughts turned carnal. And with a frustrated groan, the assassin got up, padding over to the bowl of water on the dresser. "I hate you all, so fucking very much."