Duels in the Storm

"In short, you need to leave and move to a different location in one of the other fiefdoms", Imrahil said with as much compassion as he could muster. "There are plenty of opportunities for business in the Blackroot Vale, arrows are always in short supply there in the valley", he added with a tight smile and a nervous laugh.

Idro just shook his head in shame at his older brother's cowardliness. Malthil shook his head as if in a fog that started to blur with tears that he didn't realize were his own.

Dwafelt was steaming with rage as he struck: "My prince, how could you just make the choice to give up? We can't just close shop on the legacy of Malthil's father, the blacksmith of your father. Don't you care? Do you not see the lad's trembling?"

Imrahil was taken aback by Dwalfelt's fierce indignation as rain and thunder could be heard outside, masking the sound of something landing on the roof. Puffing up his pride he countered, "keep out of this dwarf, you are not the prince here and you are in my city. Show respect and realize that I do care". Turning to the young man, he said, "I will give you a letter of my recommendation with the royal seal of the prince of Dol-Amroth to give you a place in the fiefdom of your choosing."

Idro became distracted for a second as he had the nagging feeling they were being watched. But when he turned around to look out the side window, there was nothing to see except for the empty alley and the rain.

Dwafelt hammered back with a ferocity that stung like lightning and lit Idro's eyes with hope: "We are not going away. Bring your men, shrink back behind the Bank Guild, and act anxiously noble from your throne, but make no mistake that you are a coward and no better than if an umbrian raiding party assailed this city. Fight for your people, unless you are ashamed of the people that your father prized and prize the people your father was ashamed of." Dwafelt delivered the final blow as he pushed the notice from the Guild into the prince's hands.

Imrahil found himself disarmed with Dwafelt's stinging rebuke which held him at sword point.

"Good night to you both", Imrahil said without charm as he fled onto the street clutching the notice in his right fist.

Idro gave a nod of respect to Dwafelt as he followed his brother out the front door.

…

"Brother, please hear the dwarf's rebuke!" Idro shouted as the storm started to increase in ferocity as if doom was swiftly approaching.

Silence answered back as Imrahil stubbornly stormed up the streets that led to his trembling palace.

"How could you allow your father's legacy to ruin like this?", Idro pleaded.

Imrahil did a 180 and plunged his finger into Idro's chest,

"What do you know about legacy?" Imrahil's pain-stricken face snapped, "I am a pure-blood, not you. The burden of our father's legacy falls on me. You wouldn't understand the pressure brother."
Idro's eyes grew wide, before hardening, "I remember the days when the idea of pure blood was foreign and repulsive to you. Think how far you have fallen from the valor and courage pumping through your veins. I will not follow you any farther tonight, I'm not pure enough to keep you company", Idro stated as he started back down the hill - shedding an angry tear for his brother.

Imrahil watched his comrade storm back down the street until the rain blocked him from view.

What have I done? Imrahil thought before he slowly turned back to his struggle up the hill.

...

Saphira sat perched atop a roof as rain hit the wooden roofs around her like the beginning of an ancient melody, the kind that leaves you in awe and wonder.

Strange, Saphira thought as she leapt from the roof of the Sailing Smithery to an adjacent roof, trusting in the sound of the rain to drown her footsteps as she followed Imrahil and Idro. As the two men walked up the road, Saphira sifted the important information from the irrelevant in her mind. As she trailed behind on the rooftops, she could sense the sadness in one man's voice. Although it was hard to hear, even for an assassin, it was clear to her that the two were arguing about something.

The hardest part of this profession is waiting. I remember Dad taking me to hunt wild boar one time. The long hours of waiting drove me crazy, but he would tell me stories of his adventures at sea with his crew. Thankfully he left out the violent raiding parts of his tales.

Back then, he was just starting to invite me into his world allowing me to really know him. Hearing of the violence would have crushed my innocence and the fragile relationship I had with him back then. I wonder what he would think - BOOM, the thundercrack woke Saphira from her memory and brought her back to the task at hand.

Suddenly, the younger man stopped for a minute before turning around and walking in the opposite direction with his head down, shoulders slumped, and fists clenched. Her target looked shocked and a bit remorseful before continuing up the slope. Then all of a sudden, the man stopped and looked up with an ashen face toward the stormy sky. Saphirra could not be sure, but she thought the distraught man looked familiar even in the midst of the persistent rain. After a moment, the man continued on his march down the hill.

This is my window, Saphira thought to herself as she turned his focus back to her target and dashing across the rooftops: closing the distance between her and the prince. Rushing past the prince from the rooftops she thought, All I need to do is make him furious enough to come after me but not too ashamed that he retreats to his palace. Saphira saw a perfect place to spring her trap: a dark, one-way alley that was overcrowded with shipping crates. As an added bonus she could lure him in far enough so that no one would ever hear his cries for help.

…

What have you done, Imrahil? Why would you call your own brother a half-blood? I'm better than this...I can make amends. Maybe even help the Sailing Smithery stay afloat… but what of the people's opinion of me once the bankers stir an uproar about my favoritism to a certain smithery over the other handful in Dol-Amroth? What would father do?

Suddenly a voice pierced his thoughts and his pride from an alley off the beaten path.

"Hey sluggard! I saw how you treated your friend a minute ago. Do you think he will ever forgive you? How could you live with yourself after showing your rotting character on full display?"

Imrahil was taken aback, but tried to get a handle on his wounded pride:

"Who are you? And what do you know about me and my friend?

But the voice in the alley wasn't backing down and the tempest roared with thunder:

"I am the voice of your people who are dying while you serve their murderers."

"Now you wait a minute, how dare you, I shield the people from tierney and those crooked bankers".

"Do you? How about the Sailing Smithery and your insistence that they close shop and move out of town when the boy's father crafted your own sword? You are a no-good greedy backstabber!"

Imrahil stood there, clenching his fists, feeling embarrassed and scared of the truth. Keep your head on Imrahil, don't stoop down to this beggar's level. Walk away. Walk away right now. But this person is not right...I am not serving the bankers….I am serving my father's reputation among the important people in his kingdom.

"You're father would roll over in his grave at the smell of you"

That's it. Without another word, Imrahil put the notice in his right pocket, unsheathed his sword, and marched into the alley with a glint in his eyes that would have turned a cosair's face pale.

The alley was cluttered with crates and trash, but the worst part of it was the smell of manure that permeated the very air of the place.

"Show yourself! You better hope you are ready to put up a fight when you face" - Smack! Imrahil face planted, but quickly rolled out of the way to avoid a finishing move by his attacker, but none came. When he got to his feet, he didn't see anyone there. He turned around quickly as he heard a splash coming from a puddle of water farther down the alley. He decided against his better judgment to stay the course. As he stealthily eased forward, he was startled when a foot swept his own foot out from underneath him in mid-stride. He face-planted again, but this time dangerously close to a pile of manure that made his nostrils scrunch up in disgust. He rose to his feet, warier this time, and peered into the dark for any sign of his accuser … and manure.

He took a deep breath and calmed himself, just like his father taught him and Idro years ago. I wish Idro was here, Imrahil thought. He heard his father's voice, When you are distracted with feelings in the midst of a battle, calm yourself with deep breathing and focus on your present attacker, letting go of all else. As he slowed his breathing, a muffled footstep caused him to cock his head to the right, but he dove toward the left as he heard the burst of air from a blowpipe. A moment later he heard the clang of a dart bounce off the stone wall of the alley.

Assassin! Imrahil realized in alarm. I have to try and make a run for it. He jumped up quickly and sidestepped another dart before darting away from the attacker. Above the alley, he could see the shape of the assassin keeping stride with him from the rooftops. All of a sudden the predator stopped - giving Imrahil hope of escape. But hope gave way to dread as a dagger flew by Imrahil's head and slashed a tight string of rope, causing a tower of 6 crates 10 yards from the alley's exit to fall in front of him, blocking his way of escape.

In desperation, he quickly scaled the barrier with his sword in hand but gave a shutter as he felt a dart pierce his side. Nauseous, he clumsily tried to make it to the top of the barrier. When he staggered to the top, he dropped his sword which fell with a CLANG on the other side of the barrier. Imrahil in turn, lost his grip and fell backward with a THUD onto the alley floor. As his field of vision grew blurry and began to shrink, he saw the hooded assassin confidently walk towards him. Right before he blacked out the hooded figure lifted up the hood to reveal a feminine face which bore eyes of sapphire that seemed to sparkle in the night.