Author's note: I just realized no one really is gonna know what's going on. Basically, this is set before the Fellowship of the Ring, when Sauron isn't yet considered such a superpower. Think of him as recovering, but still recovered enough to pester the free folk. And heh, thanks, I.H.N, but I can't give up on this now. I like it too much. I'll try out a few more chapters, and then decide.
Even as her heart froze her body launched herself away from sight. She sidled up the rafters, only to pause, as the elf swung his head around, some twelve feet above the ground.
Bree received many, many visitors, mostly from those passing through. It was the one trace of civilization in the wilderness, and it was not unknown for even elves to pass through, on their way to Rivendell and back. Tera even, through word of mouth and hooded glimpses, knew this one by name.
Glorfindel.
He had come, dozens of years ago, with a group of elven rangers. One of them had received a wound from an orc blade, and Rivendell was too many miles away. The most accomplished healer in Bree had been ordered to save him. He'd failed.
Tera had been told that the elf had been buried here, and the rangers had ridden away- away from Rivendell. Presumably back to the orcs. They had probably not expected to come out alive, and had desired their comrade to have, at least, a proper burial.
They had survived, however, and every so often the troop of elves would come to pay their respects, and then disappear again.
Tera swore mentally, not even daring a whisper to give herself away. Who knew how well those ears could hear.
The elleth crouched down beside the body of the hobbit, and Tera could hear faintly what she assumed was a curse. The elf glanced up, scrutinizing the darkness, searching. His eyes, Tera realized with a shiver, were those of a eagle. Sharp, and ever moving, and very, very keen.
The best of elves, against the best of humans.
Damned, but she hated being the prey.
Not that, of course, she didn't know how.
Tera slowed her breathing, turning it into something less than audible. Ragged breaths would be heard, she knew, despite the onslaught of rain. Not for the first time, she gave silent thanks to the weather. She was of rain and darkness. He was of light. Over here, she was in her throne, her kingdom, her realm. And he was, hopefully, far, far out of his depth.
Well, she was right about the former, and maybe not so much about the latter, but even the elf could not match an assassin such as she, in her conditions, in her darkness.
Glorfindel glided to his feet, brow furrowed in a way that Tera was sure he'd never show in public- why, it even made him look less than perfect, and took one last, cursory glance before striding off into the downpour.
Tera closed her eyes in relief for a moment, before tucking her cloak safely under her arm and heading off. Too risky to stay here for very long; the elf would probably alert the Bree watchers of the dead hobbit. She leaped back into the night's sky, darkness veiling her already lithe figure.
Her home, first, to drop off the gemstones; she would risk no questions asked. It would only take a few moments. Once safely hidden, and freshly clothed, she would head out again.
A quick change into another set of black- indeed about the only color in her meager wardrobe, saw her heading out the window yet again, heading for the Prancing Pony.
It was warm there. A fire blazed merrily from inside the windows, and if the villagers were holed in until the rain had stopped, well, that made all the more reason for a drink or two.
Tera latched onto the rafters, then let herself drop softly to the ground. Rain immediately lapped at her calves, but she welcomed rather than ignored the intrusion. She slid through the open crack in the door and kept her hood securely over her head.
None acknowledged her arrival, for she faded immediately into the background, searching, searching. . . there.
Thaire sat, yes good, in a corner of the room, secreted from the light of the fire. She strode towards him, her gait an epitome of economy, swift and ground covering, and very, very silent. She was Tera, the hunter, the shadow queen. And today, she was the triumphant.
She offered Thaire a little, predatory not-quite-a-smile, nodding in a fashion just far enough to acknowledge, and just short of respect. Reaching into her pouch, she closed long fingers around the laboratory key, tossing it carelessly onto the table.
"He's dead."
Thaire gave a nod, risked a grin. A nimble hand slid across the table and claimed the key as his.
"So I see. And you did not hesitate to take as you wish."
His accent was clear, cultured. Very different from Tera's dark, husky, exotic 'cat-speech'.
"I'm a thief," she tilted her head and gave an almost challenging, definitely amused quirk of the lips.
"Of course, lady," he replied. He'd live with it. Her job was done, his opponent dead, and her skill proven, "Admirable elimination. You truly are skilled in your. . . line of work."
"I truly am skilled at killing people, you mean," and now the voice mixed with a husky, part laugh and part condescension. Oh, she knew it was only courtesy that led him to call her 'lady'. She knew what she was called: Lady Death, Shadow Dancer, and she knew very well that if she weren't there, those were the terms Thaire would have used. "It was a pleasure working for you. And now, my pay, if you please."
"Of course, of course." Thaire pushed the purse of gold across the table. "But before you go, there is another job for you."
Tera tensed instinctively.
Oh, don't say that. . .
A quick glance around confirmed her fear.
Shit, shit, shit, she cursed, muscles coiled and ready to leap. The hooded figures approached, seemingly casually but quickly all the same. She needn't look beneath the hood to know who they were.
It was brightly lit and warm, a far cry from her rain and darkness.
Damn.
"Lady, they don't want to take you prisoner. Listen to me, they're offering you a job. A high paying job. Believe me, they promised. . ." Thaire babbled hurried, unheard explanations in an attempt to keep Tera from running.
It didn't work.
Glorfindel, at least, saw the danger before the others, and abandoned all pretense to shoulder his way hurriedly to her.
Too late.
She sprung up from the table, grasping the rafters above before springing up further. Landing in a crouch on the dusty wood, she sprinted across amidst surprised shouts and pointed fingers. With any luck, the chaos would distract the elves for long enough for Tera to get to the door. . .
No such luck.
With a single word of command, three elleths sprang between her and the door. And they didn't even use the table to boost themselves up.
Damn it!
Tera glanced behind to see that she hadn't much time. Gritting her teeth, she launched herself higher to grip onto a higher rafter.
Please let this work, she prayed as her legs swung forwards in full force. . .
Right into the window.
Glass splintered, cracked, and broke, and Tera felt herself hurl through the window, desperately shielding her face from the shards of grass. She grabbed desperately for a handhold as she fell, finally finding purchase in a hole in the bar's perimeter wall.
Then she hoisted herself up, blood trickling from a dozen cuts and scratches, and sprinted out into the rain, and the darkness of her realm.
