The elf slammed a single gold coin down on the bar of the Pony with a crack, causing patrons and tankards both to jump.
“Ale, my fat friend…keep it coming…and a round for anyone here who will raise their tankard to the glory of Dol Amroth, her blue pennants glowing bravely in the setting sun!” The crowd remained silent, some looking away awkwardly.
The armored elf looked around and snarled in disgust, running one gauntlet through her short, dark hair. “Will none of you sniveling flatlanders take a moment to salute your betters…those who mount the ramparts of your defense while you hide here and go about your business?”
More awkward silence, save for some angry muttering from the fringes of the crowd. The elf spat onto the scarred hardwood floor and drained her tankard in one go, then tossed the empty vessel to Barli. “Another then, for me alone…I have no desire to drink with cowards, at any rate.” She barked out the word “coward” and glared around her…no one met her gaze, save for one young woman near the fire. Her face was streaked in soot as was her hair, nearly as dark as the elf’s. As the warrior mentioned the city of Dol Amroth she began staring at her in concern, but now as their eyes met, her gaze dropped into the fire again.
The elf spat once more and slapped another gold Gondorian coin onto the bar. “Enough…this cow shed of a town sickens me more every time I am forced to wander here. A few tumbledown tinder shacks, filled with shopkeepers and vagrants putting on airs while they hide from the shadow like scared little girls.”
A local man close beside the elf put his hand angrily on her shoulder at her harsh words, hissing something low in her ear about “arrogant firstborn bitches” who should know "their place". The elf’s cold grey eyes met his, she smiled slowly and the room seemed to freeze. The woman at the fire felt a surge move through her and looked up to watch the confrontation, thinking for a moment that the strange elf was humming…then she realized that it was actually the greatsword across the woman’s back that was humming…or perhaps murmuring in a language she did not know….and did she hear it…or feel it?
The elf raised one eyebrow…her cold, amused gaze sliding from the man’s eyes to his hand on her shoulder as she smiled more widely, looking like death itself….the man swallowed hard, then slowly, cautiously he let his hand fall and stepped carefully backwards away from her. The room calmed and the woman by the fire felt the tone of the humming change...was it...disappointed?
The elf shrugged. “Well, this firstborn bitch is tired of you cringing mucksuckers. If any of you nauseating surrender-monkeys find enough nerve or enough erection to show me "my place", you'll be able to find me easy enough. I'll be the one shoving my boot down your throat." She looked up at Barli. "Hey tubby, take down a message and if I find out you lost it, I will come back here and see if your corpse will help flavor this dwarf piss you call ale. Give it to Xanderian, another Firstborn bitch…tell her that her sister is in town and I have something she needs to hear…tell her to look for me. She’ll find me.” She flipped the innkeeper another gold coin and with a last cheerful look at the patrons, moved for the door.
The woman by the fire gathered her courage and stepped between the elf and the exit. She cleared her throat, trying not to sound as nervous. “I’m…sorry….you…you seek Xan?”
The armored elf stopped and looked her up and down slowly with a gaze that made the woman blush under the soot. “You look like her sort…built like a lumpy boy. Well?”
The woman bit her lip, ignoring the comment and continuing. “You said you are her sister? You’re…Lif?”
Xandilif the Banshee smirked. “Ah…she does tend to babble on about me doesn’t she…poor little squirt. So you know where she is? I gotta parlay with her.”
The woman shook her head. “She is not in Bree. I don’t know where she has gone but she has promised us she will return soon. I…I am Fille.”
The elf nodded slowly…her gaze growing somewhat wary and unfriendly. “So you are the runaway daughter are you? Typical. Now what does your sire the bastard want you so badly for, you don’t look special to me.”
Fille swallowed hard. “You…you know…know my father?”
The elf shrugged again “Not to speak to, which is good cause I wouldn’t want to get that close to him. He is a proper bastard, a real rotter…and I don’t know what nettle you shoved up his backside but he has a lot of coin out there to see you get brought back to Dol Amroth, preferable in a hatbox. When I told Rian about that she raised quite the squeak…going on about HER Fille this, HER Fille that…you don’t look like you’d be worth the trouble to be honest. You got skills that ain’t apparent to the clothed eye, sweetmeat?”
The woman considered the elf’s words for a moment….then blushed crimson. “It isn’t like…we….I love her…I mean…she is my dearest…what? You think that we…I?”
The elf laughed…but it was not a very nice sound. “Never mind, sweetmeat, do I care who my sister beds, you or the Rohan girl or the Noldor or that hobbit with the bar-rag? No, no I do not…I just hope you know what you are doing regarding my sister the moron. She is…she is not always the way she seems and I ain’t always here to look out for her tender little feelings. So you and this Rohan bitch she talked about are her cute widdle pussycats now, eh?”
The woman bit her lip hard, controlling her anger. “Forget about us…you said there was something you wanted to tell your sister?”
Xandilif nodded…and looking around led her up the stairs and into the back of the Pony, stopping near another hearth. “Yeah, but I don’t trust this place much…the rugs stink of Angmar puke. Listen sweetmeat. Tell the Monk, I found Cilyniton for her.”
Fille stared. “Cilyniton…Cily? You…is she alright…Xan has been so worried….”
The elf nodded, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Yeah…I got her stashed…she is ok…well…sort of. She ain't alone in there…she’s got something with her…something so fecking dark. Xan has to know…she’s got a thing with her, a knife-thing, something from ancient days, maybe from Morgoth’s horde itself…and it is eating away at her from the inside.”
“I don’t understand…” Fille was confused and scared enough already by this strange meeting but the champion’s tone was frightening her even more.
“You don’t need to understand sweetmeat…well…maybe you do. Look, this knife…it eats souls…shreds them like rotten grave shrouds. That means if it gets ahold of a firstborn…there is no boat to the west…we simply…end. It breaks your will and spirit, then then destroys your mind...throbbing pain, darkness and then nothing but blood. This thing is getting a hold on Cily…and I don’t know what it wants to do with her. Rian needs to know…she needs to watch herself. I know she don’t know it, but there are some very dark things that would really like to see my little sister out of the big picture, if you follow me. Plus...Cily knows Mans. She came through his hands once and he is looking for her. I can use her to get to Mans and settle this once and for fecking all. Tell her that. The Monk will understand. I got a hunch Mans' got a hand in this relic theft business she said your little club is running down as well. Kheledur is a direct line up to Forochel and the Angmarim.”
Fille just nodded…still stunned by the first concept…Something could kill Xanderian. Really kill her. That seemed to her impossible…and that Cily would wield it? The thought was too horrible for her to even consider. “Xan…Xan is in danger?”
The elf continued….looking at Fille closely. “Oh you heard that much, did ya sweetmeat? That ain’t the only danger she is under. You got no idea what she is doing, the price she is paying to be around you flatlanders. The last time she fell this hard, for that silly ginger prick, she went into the woods for a whole damn century after she had to put an arrow through his neck. Even I couldn’t find her for a while, it was that bad. I have no idea why she decided to put herself in this kind of trap again, but you and that Rohan bitch sure as hell better appreciate it, sweetmeat. I won’t even bother mentioning the Noldor princess, cause I know she won’t care…it ain’t in her kind's nature to give two craps for the like of Rian or me.”
Fille continued staring “Xan…is in danger from…from me.”
The elf looked at her…and for a moment, to Fille she looked exactly like Xanderian, her pale elven eyes seeming to fill with unshed tears. “What the hell did you think? It was all roses and sweetcakes for her? She loves you and this Rohan girl…and god help us the Noldor. She REALLY loves you. Love…love ain’t healthy for the likes of us, especially not for Rian. But now…now she is in too deep, and maybe all of you are. You have no idea the price she is paying, the risk she is taking with you. You just sure as heck better value it, because sooner or later, you are going to rip her to shreds. She knows that but she is too stupid to care anymore, she got too lonely out in the night…but I care. She is my baby sister and I hate watching what you and your kind are going to do to her, what you ARE doing to her…but she will do what she will do and I can't stop her. I doubt you can either, but there it is. “
Xandilif took Fille by the chin as the Gondorian began to weep, whispering. “Stop that. This is just a word to the wise, which you ain’t but try sweetmeat. Just remember that when you little kittens are cold and dead and done with her…I’ll be the one to convince her not to go off into the night again, I’ll be the one to scrape my sister up and try to rebuild her. Just remember that and have a little respect. Tell her about my morsel, I mean Cily, and the dark thing…and that I will be in touch.”
Fille closed her eyes, wanting to make that whispering voice go away, NEEDING it to go away…and when she opened them again the elf was gone.
Fillegedhiel sank down to her knees before the fire, sobbing…she had a lot of thinking to do.
