Thank you to everyone who has Favorited, followed, and especially reviewed :) The next chapter might take a little bit longer cause I'll be out state for a week but rest assured I'll do my best to get the next chapter posted as soon as I can.
The night was one blanketed in heavy layers of gray-black clouds. The crescent moon's light could only peak out occasionally between the smothering presence of the obscuring wisps casting shifting silver light on the small human settlement. It was under the cover of this sky that two cloaked figures met underneath an ancient swaying oak.
"I told you it was a hare-brained idea in the first place Lastor." One hissed at his companion, larger and broader in stature.
"How's I ta know the huntin' party would run inta one of em elves while w're lookin for me 'stolen' pigs?" Lastor growled back sourly at the man by his side. "Plus, it don matter now anyways. You say the creature wan'sa trial by combat?" He gave a rough bark of laughter. 'It'll never win, broken arm en all." A shift of the smaller man's cloak revealed he was now glaring openly at Lastor.
"This has gotten out of hand." He seethed in a voice just barely above a whisper despite the fact that the two men were thoroughly alone except for the towering tree. "I promised I'd help you sell your pigs and write them off as stolen for compensation from the Capitol, but I never would have helped if I had known it would turn into this Mordor of a mess."
"It ain't outta hand. I beat em tomorrow, ya declare em guilty and he's locked away for the rest'ta his unnatural life." Lastor said simply not bothering to modulate his voice at all. A stray falling branch clobbered the side of the man's shoulder. He cursed violently staring at the ancient tree with contempt. "As soon as I deal with tha elf remind me to chop down this blasted tree!"
"You've never seen elves fight before have you?" Runen asked shifting his body to survey for possible eavesdroppers. "I was in Minas Tirith after the war Lastor, when the Fair folk still roamed the stone halls. I saw them spar with the soldiers and even hurt they are formidable." The farmer gave a snort of disbelief earning him another withering look. "One in particular, a dark haired elf clad in gray, he was covered in bandages and still managed to disarm three fine Gondorian men." Runen could tell he caught his accomplice's attention at that retelling.
"Ya say'in I'll lose?" He asked, accusation in his voice.
"I'm saying you are being far too careless!" The lawmen's voice was no longer lowered. If people find out what we've done I'll be ruined. With the ki…" He trailed off letting the syllables trail into the still air. Lastor raised an eyebrow at the silence.
"Don'tcha worry Runen. I've got wha'cha might call insurance. Know a lad down at the pharmacy who owes me a favor." The moon chose to shine his face down upon the two at that moment and Runen felt a shiver run down his spine at the grin that was plastered on Lastor's face. "Suffice to say, the elf won't be a problem anymore." With that declaration the farmer drew up his cloak and marched into the shadows of town. After a moment's hesitation Runen followed. The night was silent once more except for the moaning creak of the mighty oak as it bent its trunk in sorrow.
Word had somehow spread much further than Lastor would have liked of the duel to take place at high noon between the imprisoned elf and his accuser. He would have preferred it to be a quiet affair. A simple and swift resolution to his recent garnered troubles. The farmer looked uneasily at the sheriff whose brown eyes were surveying the gathered crowd with apparent disinterest but Lastor could see tension in the normally relaxed gaze. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second and he nodded at his accomplice, Runen held his eyes for a moment longer before moving onto the next person. The burly man fingered the short sword he brought with him cautiously. A delicate of poison, deadly if touched, coated the razor edges. A failsafe in case the match got out of hand.
Lastor had never been in many altercations in his life. When he did find himself needing to put someone in their place he had always relied on his superior size and strength from raising swine his whole life.
A murmur spread through the crowd. Those opposite the accuser automatically parted ways to allow the slim figure to walk forward. The elf, as tall and proud as the night he was found on the hill, gazed dispassionately at the gathered spectators letting the blue chips rest on the man directly across from him. It was incredible how much self assurance the elf could show when his left arm was braced by a makeshift sling and his forehead invisible under thick coils of linen.
Lastor stepped forward feigning confidence in his step to boost his rattled moral. He drew his sword from its place at his side holding it gingerly before him.
"Let us begin."
Runen watched, carefully maintaining his neutral composure but inside he was nearing panic. He kept trying to reassure himself that the arrival of the king and trial by combat had no bearing on his original plans. Lastor promised with audacity that he could beat the elf and Runen was counting on that promise with blind faith. The king couldn't, or wouldn't, interfere with a justly carried out verdict in his own kingdom. After all, it was his responsibility to be the epitome of law and order.
Yet, despite being sure in his knowledge the lawman could not suppress the unease that rose in his chest as the elf strode up, his bearing regal and smooth despite the sling supporting his left arm and various visible bandages on his arm and face. King Elessar had promised there was no trickery in the elf's demand. He would not flee or use 'black magic' to contrivance an escape. So far the King's word had proven true.
The two opponent's stood to face each other. One's posture tense the other relaxed but attentive. Lastor spared on last glace at Runen before drawing his short sword and straightening his stance. The crowd moved back a few paced to create a nearly perfect circle closed by the modest podium from where Runen would oversee the match.
"Let us begin." The man growled at his infuriatingly lax opponent. The elf tilted his head and to everyone's confusion turned to face Runen ignoring his accuser altogether.
"I believe it is the right of those accused, who choose a trial by combat, to also be allowed to elect a champion for their representation." He spoke, silky voice carrying over the still clearing. Runen stared at the creature uncomprehendingly for a moment before recovering swiftly.
"While that is within your rights I do not believe there is any present who would be willing to represent your kind." The man was proud that his voice resounded with authority and with just enough spite at the end of his sentence to make the elf's request seem like an asinine comment. To his vexation the elf's only response was to give a small smile.
"I'm afraid I must disagree my good lawman, for I have already found a capable and willing candidate who wishes to prove my innocence today." Runen blinked.
"Really?" He asked, injecting as much cynicism into that one word as he could muster.
"Yes." The being replied turning back to the crowd as a hooded figure slid forward maneuvering easily through the throng of gatherers. The elf turned and rested a hand on the man's shoulder whispering something undetectable. The man gave a nod, patting the elf's shoulder in reassurance.
As the figure moved to take the place the elf had been standing just seconds before he flourished his cloak to reveal an elegant long-sword by his side. A stone dropped into Runen's stomach as his palms began to perspire profusely. This wasn't possible. Why would anyone… no it couldn't be. He tried to convince himself even as a weathered hand reached up. The fabric fell away to show a handsome face with eyes as grey as the clouded sky.
"I shall represent the accused, Legolas, in this duel to clear his good name." Announced the clear, stately voice of their King.
Cries of disbelief and recognition rippled through the townsfolk. Many fingers were pointed, confused whispers exchanged, and children raised above their parent's heads to catch a glimpse of their monarch. Lastor stared ahead in complete and utter astonishment. He tore his eyes away from the Gondorian King and fixed an outraged look on Runen. His accomplice has said nothing of this!
The dismayed look on the man's face however showed Lastor that he had been just as blindsided by the recent development as the farmer was. It was unthinkable.
It was not unheard of for people to die in a trial by combat. After all the confrontation did not end until one party yielded, and there were criminals who'd rather face the icy grips of death than justice.
Lastor could not even begin to imagine why the king would be present in such as remote town in his kingdom. More importantly, he could not fathom why the man would risk his life for something that wasn't even human. It didn't make sense. None of this made sense.
"Why'd ya risk yer life for a worthless one, yer Majesty?" He asked as the King drew his famous Flame of the West and began a steady circle around his adversary.
"Because he is my friend." Was the simple reply.
"It's no one's friend. No one can claim'a goblin like im a friend. They don disserve our trust, yer being tricked." He snarled back forgetting to watch his tone in his anger and fear.
"That is where you are wrong." Without warning the man struck. Lastor barely had time to bring up his own weapon in defense. The king was strong and by no means small but Lastor had always been an unusually large human, even when he was a child. He managed to clumsily deflect the overhead blow and scramble to the side as a follow-up strike nearly sliced his left forearm.
The cacophony of clanging metal filled the air. The summer heat beating down only exacerbated the tension in the town. The man could feel warm trickles of liquid sliding down his face and back as the warmth, fear, and physical exertion stressed his body. The world tunneled away until all that Lastor could see were the two gleaming streams of steel splitting the vibrating air.
An irrational frenzy took Lastor. He tried to go on the offensive. If he could just tire the king, perhaps unnerve the man by showing he was serious about the match the man would realize what a futile effort it was and abandon the match. His strokes were crude but forceful. Elessar's own blocks were measured and skillful, using no more than the necessary energy to deflect the manic blows. A thrust from the king forced the larger man to take a couple hasty steps back driving him to the edge of their duel circle.
His senses sharpened from threat, Lastor could feel the breath of the crowd and the acrid scent of sweat and dust. The greys and browns of his neighbors' clothes blended into a hazy background but a vibrant splash of green against the monotony of muted colors caught his attention. The elf stood, right arm cradling his injured lightly, eyes riveted on the king approaching his position with his sword held lightly at his side.
With a bellow of rage Lastor threw himself, not at Elessar, but at the sources of his woes. The elf began all this and Lastor would finish it.
The stark blue eyes turned to him too late. The poisoned blade was already descending down upon the golden crested head.