A/N: ok ok…please do NOT die from a heart attack. I have recently finished traveling and am settling down and have decided to continue with the story. You are all entitled to hate me for not posting for a year and a bit but hey…you can't kill me. AND you don't know where I live so u can't try.
Picking up the story again has been a bit hard. Sorry if I don't write the same as I used to but I'm trying to keep it consistent.
Yes, I admit… I am lazy. There I said it.
Disclaimer: don't own em…wish I did.
Chapter Thirteen
Serafina watched intently as the party of nine drifted slowly off to sleep. Her arm was almost numb – she had strapped it to her chest, trying desperately to limit the movement and the pain. There was nothing she could do about the infection; she didn't even have water to drink let alone basic healing provisions.
The thief had been following the party for the past two days – intent on stealing some of their supplies. She was not stupid; Serafina knew she could not survive on her own in the wild, however she also knew that she couldn't have these people discovering her presence…Boromir was with them. Serafina could not trust the protection of anyone when he was in the picture.
Once the hobbits were snoring peacefully, Serafina pondered the strange mix of company. It was an extremely curious combination of characters: four hobbits, Strider – or was it Aragorn, an Elf, a Dwarf, a Wizard and Boromir. She knew the hobbits all by name, was sufficiently acquainted with the ranger, had met the Wizard in passing and was far better acquainted with the son of the Seward of Gondor than she would prefer – which left the Dwarf and Elf to occupy the majority if her attention.
After two days following the party, the thief had already developed a liking of the dwarf; his temperament reminded her a lot of her own. However the elf brought on quite other feelings, although Serafina's dealings with his kind did make it difficult to view any elf in a rosy light. The pompous importance he carried with him was he walked did not escape her notice, nor her censure. No, Serafina did not like the elves – this one was no exception.
As she watched her mind wandered. She watched the Son of the Steward; his face oh-so-familiar even with twelve years past. Serafina had seen so many emotions on that man's face as a child. He had not changed one ounce, the thief wondered at how he could recognise her after such a long time, but then, he wasn't one to forget.
The steward's son sat, staring. He never moved, not an inch if he could help it, and he hardly spoke. Part of Boromir thought this girl worth nothing. To that part of him she deserved no thought, no time. However another side wanted to understand, how such a seemingly innocent child could commit such an act, and just sit there, somehow able to live with herself.
He watched her through the bars, watched her as she squirmed beneath his relentless gaze. Each day he tormented her this way. She was only a child yes, but that did not matter to him anymore.
The young girl in the cell felt his eyes on her. Occasionally she looked up to see if he was still watching, then quickly adverted her gaze. Serafina was upset. She was upset that she had failed Garth. He had raised her, shown her how to steal. Stealing was her life – it was all she knew, how she ate, how she survived.
Garth had asked her to do him a favour, he'd been very specific. He needed someone small, sneaky and fast, someone capable. Serafina had glowed with pride when he had picked her for the job.
The young girl didn't really have a problem with her task. Someone in the castle was going to give Garth a lot of money for what Serafina would do, and what was good for Garth was good for her.
It was a perfect plan as far as assassinations go. But not everything always falls as per planned. Garth and his noble contact had slaved over the ins and outs of the operation. Serafina would go unnoticed. She would do her job and get out before anyone knew what had happened. It was important that she was not caught or there was no money for Garth.
No one was counting on Boromir to come back from his visit to Rohan so early. His sudden arrival threw the palace into disarray, and Serafina, although the job had been done was caught.
At so young an age Serafina believed that was Garth said was lore. If Garth said the Advisor to the Steward had to die then he did. She did not fully understand life and death, or the consequences of playing with it. And those realisations would not come to her in the cell. Only after she was free would she understand what she did, for to understand is to have experienced.
She pulled her mind back to the present, she shrugged off the feelings of the past. She had a situation to deal with here, that situation was now long gone.
The thief did not need to wait much longer until all bar the watchman were asleep. Serafina knew she could have had no better luck than to have the dwarf as a watchman. Diligent as he may be at his duty she knew that the dwarves were not strong when it came to the abilities of the senses.
Serafina crept soundlessly towards the dim light of the coals. Precious leftovers remained from their supper. The niggle of curiosity still plagued her mind as to what these people where doing together, but that too was pushed aside as she concentrated on supplying herself with food and provisions for a few nights. Collecting everything was considerably more difficult than she was expecting with the use of only her left arm.
She was just making her way to Strider's pack to find some sort of dressing for her wound when a sliver of cool metal slid firmly into place around her neck from behind. The thief froze. She glanced at the sleeping forms in her view; Gandalf, Boromir and the hobbits. This left Gimli on duty. Either Strider or the Elf was behind her. Serafina swallowed, and prayed very, very quickly.