“You try and take her, elf b*tch, I will hunt you down, and I swear to god, I’ll f**king KILL YOU!”
Well… he’d really let it get the better of him this time. Cursing himself, sighing and rubbing a tired palm down his face, pinching the tip of his nose briefly, he exhaled slowly, listening to the soothing rush of the falls beneath him as he perched on a rock above the river.
It had all started so well. He’d felt very much his old self again. Seeing Deorla in a dress and not her usual black attire like she was on the rob down dark alleys, he’d playfully bantered with her, exchanging verbal blows and laughing with one another, just like they used to do. She was his oldest friend in this world, despite everything they’d been through, and it had been a long time since either had relaxed and just enjoyed one another’s company.
Which, speaking of, the Company was high on their agenda today. They were due to host a market next week in Rivendell, selling their caravan wares. Deorla had assigned everyone roles to ensure the best possible outcome on the day, so they had all known what they were doing. Then she had overstepped the mark a little too much.
She had ordered him to join in training with the Sergeant. Ordered HIM! That had made his nerves stand on edge, but he had complied nonetheless. But for a moment, she had forgotten who he was and what he could do. For example, that bizarre instance when he’d had her hunted down, arrested, thrown in prison, put on trial, and then consequently arranged and executed a plan to free her before she was executed. Grinning a little to himself, on paper he was sure none of it made sense, but at the time it had been perfectly sensical, and though an unusual tide of events it had been necessary. But still, she shouldn’t be giving him orders.
So here he was, training with the Sergeant, to which he had ordered the Company present to spar. He’d never liked sparring; it brought out the insecurities inside of him, including that niggling doubt that he wasn’t worthy of being in the position he was, and indeed having a beating heart when he’d fought beside so many others that had found theirs stilled by steel, though undoubtedly they deserved for it to still be beating much more than he.
Not to mention he’d still not resolved that issue from prior battles; he’d get anxious, remember the blood that stained his body and face as he nearly bled to death in Rohan, and remember the fires he’d witnessed and the screams that went with them. The time he’d kicked the surrendering Dunlending into a burning homestead… and his heart would beat, and his blood would boil, and his breathing would accelerate, and he’d lose it.
To which he had. He’d nearly scissor kicked Daphnee back to the Second Age, and Amaken had given a great account of himself till they’d started slugging one another and the Sergeant barked for them to stop… to which Furley swung for the Sergeant, and was promptly put onto his a*se by the dwarf once more.
Embarrassed in front of the whole Company, he had ignored their jeers and jibes at him, and walked away. At least that was an improvement, for there was a time when he’d have carried on trying to kill the Sergeant or whoever stood in front of him. Just as he’d gathered his wits once more, he heard a familiar voice that made his blood boil freshly anew.
“What’s an ex-Bree Captain doing here”
“None of your concern, elf b*tch”.
It was Dorvarun, the damned elven “General” who had introduced him to Deorla, who was in her service. Consequently, Deorla had disgraced both of them and become a fugitive due to Dorvarun’s alleged command, and Furley had once told her that he’d kill her. He had meant it, too.
“Whatever” she said, with total mutual disdain. “I just need to find Deorla. Where is she?”
“Why would I tell that to you? You wanting her to murder for you again, b*tch?”
“Ah, I see some misunderstanding about prior events that have transpired. May we talk?”
Furley had agreed, and they’d both wandered to one side, though he kept a sword’s length away from her at all times.
“So, feel free to ask any questions, to clear it up, I’ll give you one chance only”.
Furley scoffed at that. “I don’t need to ask you any questions. You turned Deorla from a respectful citizen to a murdering, thieving outcast who has to exile herself. You disgraced her, and me. You mock me about losing my place in the Guard, but it was your doing. I lost my job, reputation, respect, my friends, my family and even my home after what you did”.
Showing no remorse whatsoever, she’d replied. “Don’t kings send out scouts to do their tasks?”
“I see no King here” he fired back. “Only someone who has abandoned her charge and manipulated Deorla to her own ends”.
“I grow tired of this. I’m going to find her, then her and I are leaving”.
As she’d tried to walk past, he’d stuck out a hand, which he never thought he’d ever have dared do. Barring her passage, she shot him a look of hate, and he returned it all too gladly.
“You threw her away, and abandoned her in the North. You disgraced her, and she deserves better than you” he growled. “She is going nowhere with you. She has a life with us, and a purpose in this Company”.
“Whatever. You can’t stop us leaving”
“I can, and I will”.
This time, she looked at him more seriously, hearing the weight of his words properly. Nevertheless, she brushed him aside, and walked off.
“You try and take her, elf b*tch, I will hunt you down, and I swear to god, I’ll f**king KILL YOU!” he shouted at her. Furious, he clenched his fists, and stormed away to find the others. Of all the times for that elf to surface, it had to be now. Gritting his teeth, he growled.
Just as Deorla and he had gotten this Company running again, the elf appeared to ruin him once more. Deorla was like losing his left hand; the one that was a capable fighter, and got tasks done no matter how difficult or dirty they required a person to get. Losing her would set this Company back several months, and what’s more, he’d once again lose his closest friend.
Listening to the water again, he breathed steadily. As if this caravan and putting all his funds and loans from rather dubious debtors into it wasn’t risky enough, here he was swearing war against a damned elven wanderer and warrior, and on top of that about to lose his second-in-command. Biting his lip, he sighed, smirking.
“At least that new hobbit was a good laugh, eh?” he chuckled to himself, wondering why on earth he still let his temper from years long past get the better of him.
