Peredhil

"Yeah, the Cook was fat enough for two people!" The joke broke the unease, and they settled into a comfortable silence. Until a deep snarling voice interjected, "Two people! I get it!" Standing deeper in the cave was a three-meter humanoid covered in shaggy white hair, laughing merrily through fangs.

His lips were already chapped; he was trying to breathe only through his nose. But the cold made his eyes water and nose run, which made his snot freeze a bit on each breath. It had warmed enough to snow last week, but plunged deeply again that night. He had no hat or cap, and his long shaggy hair just wasn’t enough. The bag was heavy enough he had to hold it tightly. He switched hands frequently just to let blood flow back to the chilled fingers huddled in his gloves. He was, of course, the only one on the street. Even the pimps couldn’t convince the whores to come out. There weren’t any cars with tinted windows prowling tonight anyway. No hot eyes with warm air gushing through a half-open window; he wondered if the marks realized the flock of whores huddling close to talk and tease were just trying to warm themselves on the furiously working heater. Why he had held onto this job, he wasn’t certain any more. Family tradition meant little when he was the last. He used to think he made a difference, was appreciated, but the rising cost of insurance meant he was just breaking even lately. He shook his head heavily in disgust at the memory of the last woman who had sued him. She’d told the judge she liked him and he’d given good quality work – but she wanted the free money and that’s what insurance was for, right? Well, that was stupid. Her and the head shaking – now his earlobes were sticking through his hair and he needed to set the bag on one of these stoops, arrange his hair over his ears again, and with his luck, they’d probably break off in his hands, too frozen to bleed. He picked his bag back up with a sigh. What kind of an idiot still made house-calls to deliver a baby anyway?

Rooted in the earth's blood, Watered by the sky's dew, I stretch my arms in joy; Greet the dawning of the new.

Just finished "Shifted" by Caitlyn Mitchell http://www.amazon.com/Caitlyn-E.-Mitchell/e/B00J2I5PKG/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1 If, like me, you like well-developed characters that stay "true" to themselves in their actions, interactions, and growth, check this out. If, like me, you enjoy solid well-researched "world-building", check this out. Her grasp of the flora and fauna of 1860s England would've been fascinating enough to keep me reading, even if I hadn't liked the story. Amazing grasp of interesting detail, instead of detail just for the sake of padding words. If, like me, you enjoy intelligent use of Fae and magic, you definitely need to check this out. This is the story of the "Beauty and the Beast" the way it should've been done originally. But just because you know one of the inspirations, don't think you know it all...

Peredhil's eyes widened and he looked down at their clasped hand and paw. He'd completely forgotten. "Oh. Yes. that's right. Sons, I'll have this conversation with you. Later. You should put those cloaks away." Mynx managed to keep a straight face as she watched the flee. "May I show you around, or would you rather sit? I... um... I have something I should discuss with you." Mynx smiled weakly. "If this is about me getting you out of that place - well, causing enough trouble that we were able to get out together, I suppose - then there's nothing to discuss." She glanced around to make sure Elrohir wasn't within earshot. "The Pen Keep was a good place to be for a long time, and I know how much of that can be attributed to you. I'd have done what I could to help you for free." "Yes. Well, thank you. Actually, it is quite a different matter entirely, you have my gratitude, but I'll leave your deal to you and my son." He paused, and looked every where but Mynx. "I, yes. Indeed. As a matter of fact. You see. Nothing for it but to. Let me begin by apologizing." He glanced at Mynx, but saw only total bafflement. "Yes. You know we're sharing one life-force between us. We were both so wounded and stubborn, that we wouldn't let the other die. Thank you by the way. But, as an unexpected consequence, well. heh, this is actually quite funny in a way, you see. In the Elven way, I some what accidentally married you. But I have no expectations and I'll not pressure you!" He ran out of words and just looked at her hopefully.

It was a day for surprises, Elrohir mused. Dad finally let go of Mom. Dad ends up accidentally marrying his mercenary trying to unselfishly (not the surprise) save her life. Dad is able to Portal straight into the Vault without having to go on a multi-Planar scavenger hunt for all the Keys first. Which might be the worst. He was looking either to have more time to arrange a story with his brother, or, in the best of all worlds, die before having to explain. Elladan was slightly in shock. Dad CHEATED. He had a way into the Vault directly. Dad CHEATED?! When they'd set up the Vault they'd made certain there could be no direct route. He'd worked out the randomizing math for the Keys and been so pleased when he found it. CHEATED. Of course, he had an entire universal intelligence to help him, and he was Portal-savvy enough to have noticed that it had been the first step through, but still. CHEATED. Peredhil the Polite. He shook his head in disbelief. Of course, Dad would probably be cranky about the cloaks, but as long as he didn't kill them to make his point, the rest could be survived. CHEATED. Mynx had always tended to travel lightly, keeping enough to meet her needs and little more. However, confronted with the enormity of the Vault, she did grip Peredhil's hand more tightly. Near the door were large dumpsters containing coins of various precious metals and materials. Beyond that were crystal caverns of artifacts. It was the hoarder's dream of three bored Elves over ten thousand years. A dragon would probably orgasm just at the sight. "Elladan found this solitary moon orbiting around a rogue dwarf - it's currently between galaxies, which make the math tricky. He and Elrohir hollowed it and imported the atmosphere and the best of our collections and gave it to me as a present. If you see something you'd like, just ask. I need to discuss a small matter of ownership and manners with my sons..."

"Guido, Nuncio! Push some tables together!" Peredhil beamed at the arrivals and absently putting a hand on Mynx's neck. He'd always had a bad habit of massaging whomever was in front of him, which had led to legal charges on a few worlds, but his fingers positively itched to feel her fur. With a few waves of his hands, suddenly the Cabaret was brightly lit, with small party lights lining the tables, windows, and doors. A mental nudge to the Kitchen and soon savory smells wafted in. The Jukebox began playing discordantly, and he hastily turned it off again. He'd given Wyvern a small fortune to buy and stock that, and it never had worked correctly. "Tanny, Degorram, It is so delightful to see you again. I hope you don't mind the modifications?" Mynx sighed. She knew without turning to look that he was looking and feeling genuinely concerned. Silly Elf.

Elrohir knelt by his father's side in concern. Elladan brandished his sword at Mynx, instead, and demanded, "What have you done to him!" Mynx rolled her eyes and snarled weakly. Propped on Elrohir's knee, Peredhil admonished 'Dan gently. "It's a temporary side-effect. We're currently sharing one life force; we were both wounded rather badly, and neither one of us was willing to let the other die. 'Ro, if you'd move my hand to her paw? Thank you. I currently have an abundance of Power, which is a very different matter. If no one minds, shall we continue this somewhere else?" Mynx rolled her eyes at Peredhil, but kept her thought to herself: "If no one minds - and he is actually taking a vote." The heat was starting to mount, the Volcano obviously straining NOT to erupt, and he was worried about interrupting a family moment. She carefully didn't think about the whole life-force issue. As soon has his hand touched her, he lithely rose and offered her a hand up. She politely bared her teeth in what could reasonably be called a smile, and accepted. Once he was certain she was steady, he raised his left hand and a blue star began to shine through it. Squinting against the light, she heard him delay again. "Elladan. Elrohir. Are those the LOTHLORIEN CLOAKS? I thought I'd made it quite clear how I felt about those." "DAD! VOLCANO!" "I CAN EXPLAIN!" She soooo wished she could see Pointy-Ears' expression right now... "You will." Funny, she'd never thought of Peredhil as menacing before. Not that he raised his voice. Actually, he dropped to a flat whisper. A hint of disappointment? She was still giggling at the thought of them being grounded at the age of Improbably Ancient when Peredhil spoke a firm WORD!

The twins drew a deep breath, then began together with a "WHAT?!" before devolving into a confused babble of questions. Peredhil used the time to catch his breath. In his arms, Mynx yawned, turned and snuggled into him, and began a slight buzz too light to be named a snore. Peredhil held up a finger and commanded silence. They trailed off with a muttered "what about Mom?" from 'Ro and a practical "does she know?" from 'Dan. "When I thought you dead and me dying, I came to peace with your mother, and myself. No, she doesn't know yet. Really, if she has some sort of ceremonies we're just mated I suppose. But, in the manner of our kind, we shared essences more deeply than I'd ever imagined, and I can only assume this feeling is being "in love". I'm not going to be rude; I'll try to woo her and hope she accepts the idea, however, as far as I'm concerned, I'm married to her. I hope she doesn't mind." Both sons hid their faces in their hands at that, an epic double-twin-double-hand facepalm. This entire world is about to slip. The entity said. A shame, but I have fed well. Of course, if any of you are burdened by memories I would be all too happy to assist. The twins spun to face the entity, swords drawn, but halted at a sharp word from Peredhil. "This is a friend of Mynx, I believe," he explained, then addressed the entity, "We're safe for a few more minutes. I asked the Volcano not to implode for a bit, and it agreed. Aren't you the quintessential incarnation of a concept, like Eternity, Death, or Coyote? Odd to find you here. May I help you find your way?" The Lady-Cat leads an interesting life. "Really! So you know her well. Wonderful, if you have a moment, I'd love to hear more about her past. I've developed a sudden fascination." I would be willing to spend your remaining 119 seconds here telling you part of what I know if you let me have your memories before you die? "No, we have a deal," Came a purred sleepy voice. Mynx yawned, blinked, and stiffened at the feel of a hand stroking her hair.

Peredhil tried to shake away the annoying voice, which thundered an incrementing count every few seconds into his headache. He focused into time to see the demon absorbed, and feel the utter relief the absence of its horror made in his emotions. He was weaker than he'd been in millennia, close to death, unable to pull power from the environment and quite unwilling to take any from the others present. His sons and bodyguards were either dead or their awareness had been stolen. He felt a slow swelling of anger that eased his awareness of his pain. In the clarity it brought, he became aware of the entity, who observed him quite curiously. He had a feeling it would have offered to share popcorn with the Tribunal if it had any, such was its amused fascination. It was splitting its attention between himself, and someone else. Lifting his head and rolling it to the side, he realized that he was floating unsupported in the air, and off to his left, also floating, was a very wounded Mynx from the Pen Keep! As soon as he became aware of her, her pain washed over his raw lacerated Senses, followed by a wave of determination from the tigress. Blinking slowly, he realized he was the focus of her intent and gaze. He managed a weak (ghastly to behold and so fragile) smile to reassure her. She didn't seem reassured. "I've been hired to rescue you, P'. Wait for a moment and I'll catch my breath." Her brave words were belied by the frothing blood at her side with each labored breath, and the steady patter of blood dripping from her coat. Another wave of pain assaulted him as she tried to shift her body, and he winced in sympathy as a few splinters of bone fell from her side. Shattered ribs, undoubtedly. She was going to kill herself trying to rescue him. That thought was... unacceptable. It would be rude to allow that. He had to help her. Even if it killed him. He was old, she had many years to live. Ruthlessly using those and other thoughts to spur himself, he managed to swing his feet to the side and slip off whatever force had held him. It was reassuringly solid to his desperately clutching hands as his weakened legs collapsed and he tried to slide TOO far. He wished that lunatic would count silently. With a grimace of determination, he pushed off and moved/fell toward where she floated. He managed to clutch her invisible platform without clutching her - he'd been very afraid he'd either pull (or push) her to the floor, or just put his hand through the enormous gash in her side. He kept his face impassive when he realized he could see part of her spine. How the jalapenos was she alive, better yet conscious?! She was more stubborn than... than... well, than him, to be honest. (Behind him, the entity leaned forward. If it had remembered to breathe, it would've held its breath in anticipation. This was fun! Obviously one would die, and its money was on the Lady-Cat. There was no way she'd let the Elf give his life to her - he was the contract. It wished the Tribunal was the type to bet, but the Tribunal could see into the futures, which meant it was absolutely boring in that respect.) He'd been a healer for much too long to have illusions. He could save her, but it would take all he had left. If he wasn't cut off from all power, this would be a mere inconvenience. How ironic it should be like this after all these years. Bracing himself on one hand, he put the other into her wound and Opened himself. He would have to hope that he had enough power left that the shock of matching her aura and life force wouldn't kill them both. If it didn't, he'd match and Resonate, then heal. He focused and flowed into her, and almost out her other side. There was no resistance, no disharmony. They were a perfect match at the deepest levels, an indicator not that they were identical, but that they matched, they resonated, as one harmonic. Gleefully, for his life would not be wasted, he poured himself into her. As she poured HERSELF into HIM. "Damnation woman, let me save you!" he thought at her furiously, unaware that with a slight change of gender, she was thinking the same thing. Fortunately, neither one was a mind-reader, and both were tenacious beyond all reason, and together they had almost enough for the Healing. Almost. He gently disengaged and started to let the blackness take him. SIX HUNDRED THREE. The Tribunal was gone, and with it it took all magical barriers and constraints. The Prison was broken. A number of things happened simultaneously. Elladan and Elrohir suddenly felt their life-bonds with Peredhil snap back into place - and began killing guards as they charged the Volcano. The Captor became aware of an unfettered Power where once it had a giant blind spot in its volcano, and lashed at it. And Peredhil's Threads came back. Just a few short of a million Threads, each to a power great or small, always held latent in the Un that separates universes and Planes, flared into life as the strike hit and parted around him, brushing Mynx. Mynx screamed. Peredhil screamed with her, still bonded deeply. Something had HURT HIS LOVE. Pulling Power with both hands, including a thread to this Volcano placed eons ago during his travels, he blew the Captor several Planes away. When his sons arrived, he was stroking Mynx's hair and ears tenderly, with a look of wonder on his face. "Hullo 'Dan, Hullo 'Ro. Forgive me for not standing, but my wife is recovering, and I want to be the first to tell her when she wakes." Their expressions were priceless, and he began to laugh helplessly.

She blacked out for just a moment. Which meant she watched helplessly through a haze of blood as things seemed to go into slow motion. From her new vantage near the floor, she couldn't see the toad over the machine, but she could see the metal automaton holding an ancient rune-encrusted stone axe, currently matted with her blood and fur, as it advanced slowly toward her. A crystal plate set into its "face" blinked in the same patterns as the machine was flashing. She tried to move, and bent around her side, coughing blood and feeling a "wheeze" against the arm pressing against her side. Sucking chest wound. She needed to move, to attack. The contract wasn't complete. Black dots danced a slow waltz around the center of her vision as she willed her paw to tighten on her sword. The automaton ignored the scream of metal behind it as the metal of the door showed hands pushing into it, like hands into water. When the door was ripped completely out of the frame, the flashing of lights in its face changed and it turned around to face the Cyclops. The short figure looked past it at Mynx as it caught the axe in its down-swing and held it motionless. "This pays for my release," he said, ripping the arm off. Unable to repress a bubble of humor at how ridiculous it was to bargain at the moment, she weakly flapped a paw to indicate her consent. Catching the other arm in a swing, it threw the automaton across the room into the main banks of the Machine, which began flashing wildly in yellow and red. With a small wave at Mynx and a wink? (With only one eye, could he wink?) He turned and strode toward the Prison's entrance, walking around the figure of the golden man, now reunited with his staff, striding toward the mayhem. The golden head with its three faces, one masked, the opposite partially masked, and one uncovered, floated inches above the torso. A great glowing blue gem was set into the metallic skin, lighting the room as he stood in the doorway. It raised the staff, and she gently floated off the floor and toward him. She could see the toad gripping its platform with all four tentacled legs as it was ripped free from the support structure to float toward him. Still dangling wires that pierced his shaven skull, Peredhil floated in the same direction. The entity, its back to the door, straightened and all its darkness streaked back to join it as it slid under Mynx's body and tried to hide. The released bodies of its victims lay unmoving on the floor, abandoned. Inexorably, the entity was pulled out next to Mynx, coiling into a clot of darkness that hurt the eye. Cousin? Let's not be hasty... The staff thumped onto the floor, and they all halted a few feet from the waiting figure. I have been pulled from my duties. I must render judgment before I return. Each face briefly rotated to the front, then the bare face spoke again. The Tribunal has judged. You were summoned. Cousin. You have kept faith. No justice is necessary. You are a mercenary. The accountability is to your contract holder. You will be untouched by the Tribunal. It is reckoned to the account that you freed us. You are a prisoner, as were we. Your threads are bound to the mercenary's. We will allow her to continue and what might be will be. You must waken to choose. The wires writhed out of Peredhil's skull, and fell with a tinkle to the floor. The collar flowed as if it were water, off his neck, across the room and into the staff. Peredhil's eyes began to flutter, and he resumed his quiet moans. You are an abomination, and your master has invested heavily in your creation. It is accountable for the inconvenience of our capture. We will remove you and the three Mind-Locked Planeswalkers entering the prison. We will remove the prison that it may not capture another, after a delay of 603 heartbeats, that choice may be made. We will then return to our duty. The toad turned into dark hues of light and flowed into the staff. From behind the Tribunal, three streaks of light circled it and were also absorbed. One.

A smash that foretold the crash of the ship's hull against the jagged rocks. The icy grey waters took Halfhand Harry and most of the S.S. Minnow's crew as well. There were seven survivors.

Chicken feathers make me down comforters to keep me warm, But I can't get down off an elephant. Duck feathers make me down comforters to keep me warmer, But I can't get no down off Chumbawamba . But I love to get down with you. New line: Cuddling a sleeping elf

In all the worlds, In all the galaxies, In all the universes, In all the Planes, I sought you. In all the worlds, In all the galaxies, In all the universes, In all the Planes, I found you. In all the worlds, In all the galaxies, In all the universes, In all the Planes, I chose you. Yes, you - Pikachu.

This incandescent rage, I feel (Too large for words or worlds), Destroying galaxies would not release enough. The entire universe, I hurl (I stride the Planes like pavement), At the object of my wrath. Left the damnable Lego™, you did (This has happened far too much), Boobytrapping the path to the loo. New line: The way I feel

Chasing trouble - She let me catch her, She was wild - I could match her. Whirlwind time - We spun around there, Eternal now - We just didn't care. I was noon - She was the dawn, At sunset, She had up and gone. First line: "The smile is fake"

In Its massive throne room a BEING stirred. Something... wrong? Unusual? A stirring of forces outside the Pattern? Its attention began to focus for a moment... Then It forgot why. Still uneasy, It ran a rippling check on the Boundaries but they were unbroken, with no signs of tampering. One of the prisoners? Had It left a vulnerability? It had fed on deities' power, but been unable to take their abilities. It still was limited in Its defenses to what It could imagine an attacker could do. It doubled the strength and frequency of the patrols, and sent three of the Brain-Locked Planeswalkers into the Prison to inspect Its security. Having a blind spot in Its own fortress had made It uneasy from the start, but that had been necessary for the capture, and either Brain-Locking, or stripping and destroying of Its victims. If necessary, it would reabsorb the prison and trigger the Purge. It had had to start over collecting life three times already, but each time It had been more powerful for the destruction.

They crept forward across the broken terrain, moving slowly; motion attracts the eye. The aerial patrols were overhead when they stopped. Poor tactics on the enemy part - they were regular as clockwork. They both practiced sighting targets, one after another, working from the outside in. Hoods up, magical senses extended, they settled into a relaxed watchfulness for any indication of Mynx.

Elrohir spoke without looking as Elladan came into the Vault. "The Crone at the Hanging Tree said he's alive at the moment." He heard his twin stagger in his steps, but carefully didn't turn. "I've hired that mercenary Planeswalker, Mynx, from the Pen Keep, to try to sneak him out. We should be ready in case she gets him to where we can snag them." He held out a piece of cellophane tape with a few orange hairs sticking to it. Elladan accepted it and asked, "Price?" "a Great Favor, to be redeemed in the future. If I die, take it." "Yes." Elrohir continued defusing the Wards protecting his section. Elladan started on his. No further words were spoken. They stripped down and began outfitting themselves from the skin out, layers of magic alternating with technology. When both were done, they took turns jumping up and down, and using black electrical tape to silent any sounds. Elladan carefully field-stripped, cleaned, and oiled a bulky rifle with a long thick barrel. Reassembling it, he did a careful function check, then inserted an extremely heavy metal ball into the stock, and a power-pack into the butt. Finally, he cycled the power on, let it whine up to full, checked the charge meter, then powered it down. Removing the power-pack, he repeated the process with three others, rejecting one to replace it with a fourth. Elrohir had taken a heavily warded case, long and narrow, and opened it to reveal the pieces of a compound bow, made of some melding of heavily laminated thin pieces of nearly translucent horn interleaved with rune-inscribed mithral. The pulleys were also of the silvery metal, but the wires and string were heavy braided blond hair. Opening a secret compartment in the case's interior, he removed scarlett gauntlets, thin as rice paper, shaped from a finely scaled hide. An aura of actinic power played about the gauntlets once he pulled the second on, then absorbed into the hide. He inspected each piece of the bow, then assembled it carefully, slotting and locking each piece, then double-checking before moving to the next. He strung the wires, and used a small metal tool to tighten them to the presets marked on each wire with a Sharpie™. Finally, muscles straining, and lights playing around the gauntlets, he strung the bow. Placing it carefully into a wall-rack, he pulled out a jeweler's loupe to enhance his vision, and began inspecting arrows, rejecting arrow after arrow until he had a rack quiver of fifty. Both ate lembas thoughtfully, washing them down with high-electrolyte water, and used the loo for the last time. Finally, they went to a crystal cabinet, and took turns leaning to place an eye in front of a large ruby, while murmuring a quiet phrase into a pinhead microphone. With a hiss of escaping gasses, the cabinet cracked and they carefully opened it further. It wasn't large, just big enough to hold two rings, one with a large ruby, one with a large white diamond, a sheathed long sword, and a small folded pile of grayish fabric. Ceremonially, they each took a gray cloak, and garbed the other, Elladan first, then Elrohir. With the hoods down, the cloaks just brushed the stone floor, shimmering slightly and baffling the eye. They were careful not to touch the sword or the rings. Closing the cabinet, they reversed the opening process, and each took a turn shaking the lid, ensuring it was closed and locked. Elladan took his rail-gun, Elrohir his bow. The sons of Peredhil were ready to go to war. With three silent nods to coordinate, they both spoke a Word.

He had to prevent Mynx from throwing her life away on a commission that couldn't be fulfilled. Regardless of the cost to himself. It's what Dad would've wanted. With a resolute look, he spoke a Word. ~~~~ Guido kept his mouth tightly shut as they strobed from world to world, universe to universe, Plane to Plane. They rarely paused longer than it took to kill anyone foolish enough to attack their sudden appearance. Elladan was colder than ice, completely focused on some elusive trace that only he could follow. Guido was just along for the ride, and a wild one it was. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. On and on until the adrenaline wore off, fatigue set in, and Guido fell asleep at Elladan's feet, baggage on the mission. Peredhil would want his Bodyguards safe before Elladan was free to avenge him. ~~~~ Elrohir walked warily through the swamp, passing from hummock to hummock. Behind him on a leash was a sullen pale-faced teenaged human, with badly dyed black and green hair, wet up to his waist, and a practiced bored look on his face. He wasn't too bored to ensure he stepped precisely where the Elf stepped. He'd been careless at first, and Elrohir had not been gentle removing the giant leeches. The ground sloped up and became an island. It was lumpy and uneven with tangled roots, and the footing very uncertain. In the center was the roots' source, an enormous oak. It was currently barren of leaves, but bore a strange twisted fruit - from every branch hung hangman's nooses of many sizes. Some were so weathered they were hanging by a thread, others were new. The lad spoke his first word, eyes brightening in interest. "Coool." ~~~~ WordWordWord. Guido woke suddenly to silence. They were in a huge heavily decorated chamber. The overwhelming first impression was of round shocked eyes. Slowly they resolved into golden-furred faces. Attached to furred lemur bodies. All surrounding Nuncio, who was sprawled on a couch being pampered. Combed, groomed, buffed, fed. Completely safe. "Hey! I recognize deese guys," Guido blurted, "Da Boss and us was here!" In hindsight, he blamed having just woken. His words broke the frozen tableau, and there was a melodious swell of voices welcoming them, suddenly cut off. "Youve. Been. Here. Safe. All. Along." Elladan spoke between gritted teeth, punctuating each word by blowing out window after window with magic. Suddenly the flames wreathing his hands extinguished and he stood tautly, fists clenched, face raised to the ceiling. The only sound was of Elladans grinding teeth and tendons popping with tension. He finally lowered his face, and everyone present found it necessary to look away. Speaking to the Giant Guinea Pigs, he uttered two words. "Stay." WORD. ~~~~ Out from the hollows at the root of the oak tree crawled an old woman as gnarled and twisted as the roots. She leaned heavily on a short trimmed branch. Bright blue eyes peered up through a fringe of dirty lank bone-white hair, gleaming in malice. "Greetings Elrohir Demonbane. I have long expected your twin, but this is a rare treat." A pale dry tongue traced the thin lips lasciviously as she looked at the boy. "You come prepared to bargain. Is he worthy of the Tree?" "He killed his father and mother. They were paying more attention to his autistic sister than himself, and he was bored." "Yes. Worthy indeed, if true. Not all bargain in faith." She turned to the boy and addressed him directly. "Did you kill your parents?" "They were lame. Always fussing over the dummy. Selfish bitch." He was obviously bored again, eyes empty once more. She turned back to Elrohir and nodded once. "The price is acceptable and non-refundable. Ask your Boon." She waved a hand dismissively at the boy and with a *pop* he was gone. A new noose appeared on the tree. Elrohir looked pale and ill, but his voice was steady as he spoke to the hag. "I need the loan of the Mournblade until I have avenged my father." Her maniacal cackle started a murder of crows from the surrounding trees of the swamp. "Denied! fool! Your father yet lives for now. Youll need another payment if you return." Still laughing, she crawled back into her hole, leaving Elrohir to stare at the new noose on the tree in horror. ~~~~ Peredhil determinedly rebuilt his barriers again. He had faced his inner demons and survived, but it had been expensive to his Self. He was able to view the memories of his failed relationship clearly, accept the failures that were hers, but recognize that he had not been alone in tragedy. He had been assigned by Gil-Galad to lead the group that had hunted down the last of the Balrogs of Morgoth. It was the guards whod failed his wife, not him. Hed done all he could to heal her, but shed rejected him and all his efforts to comfort her. Shed given him all the blame and hed taken it all. He was clear now, but weakened, and still captive. If he were to die now, his guilt was expunged. Whatever had taken him wanted his power. He had always been very careful to lay the threads in the Un between all realities, bound to existence only by his life. He would hold onto his life as long as he could resist, then end it voluntarily, denying the captor any victory. He had a feeling it wouldnt be long until he reached that limit.

Elrohir paced back and forth, eyes fixed on Mynx's fleeting figure. There were times that being an Elf from his cluster of Universes really was marvelous, and this was one of them. His Portal had opened even further from the Mountain, but it was only about eight leagues and he could still make her out, vaguely. Rather amazing how golden-orange with black stripes could blend so well with the blacks and reds of a volcano. He'd tried various messager spells, but none had worked. He'd summoned an imp, but it hadn't made it a third of the way before meeting death. What killed it wasn't certain, but it hadn't just been banished back to its dimension, but had been destroyed. Just as a star warped space and time around itself, the Mountain warped all forms of energy and power. Mynx disappeared from his view, whether into another shadow, into the mountain, or into death, he didn't know. And it was all for a fool's errand now. He'd never felt this helpless and responsible.

Guido sat at the barred window and buffed his claws. Again. It wasn't that he had been treated badly. For a race of xenophobes. They'd tried to kill him when he'd first come to rest, but he'd originally thought it was because he'd crashed through several buildings first. He'd never tease da Boss about activating the Travel Amulets again. The charge had lasted long enough that their weapons had deflected much the same as the walls. By the time it faded, they'd given up and transported him into this cell. And that's the last he'd seen of anyone since. Once a day, food of various types was pushed through a low wide slot at the bottom of the door, and a spigot released water into a bucket. He'd eaten what he could, pushed back the rest. The other bucket's use was obvious, and he dumped that out the window. He was BORED. Someone should have found him by now. ... Well, THAT was interesting. The odd onion and turnip-shaped buildings that filled his view were bulging. Aaand he was blind. That was one bright light. A second later, the wave of sound, force, vibrations, all of the above, hit and shook the building like a lion shaking a mouse. Bouncing around inside his well-constructed cell, he had only one thought. Please let me bored again. ... By the time he recovered his hearing, he could hear screams of war and terror, and the sounds of destruction - the sounds of explosions, shrapnel, the roar of flames, gunfire. Steadily getting closer. He began to have an intuition, and hoped he was very wrong. Minutes later, blinking black and purple dots out of his watering vision, he managed to look out the window. A brightly glowing figure was moving steadily to the building which held him. Levin bolts lashed out with extreme focused precision, each one causing maximum death and destruction. He had to give it to the little radish-people, they weren't cowards. They were doing everything they could to stop it, but couldn't even slow it. Shaking his head in pity for the race, he adjusted his suit and fedora, buffed his shoes, and settled to wait. It wouldn't be long now. When the building around his cell ceased to exist, he was ready, and flexing his knees, was able to cushion the impact as he landed. His greeting died with a silent gulp, and he threw his gaze down and to the side, frozen except for the pellets filling his trousers. He felt no shame, only terror. Elladan had come for him. Or death. He wasn't certain and wasn't sure Elladan knew. The eyes were flat, opaque, and darker than his hair. there was no color in his flesh, and the bones of his face stood out starkly. He'd never seen or felt such a total lack of feeling in the Elf. They both stood without moving, then Elladan turned without a word, cast two more bolts of power scything across the gamely gathering troops, then clenched both fists over his head and swung them down and together, shouting a WORD!

Elrohir stiffened in his seat. He was in one of their favorite restaurants, on one of their favorite worlds, in one of their favorite Planes. One reason was that its boundaries were more porous than the Pen's, so it took little for ideas to cross Planes and universes, and travel was correspondingly easy. It was a very posh restaurant, and they were part-owners, and had been for a few hundred years. The diners were very upper-crust and old-school, they raised social manners to an art-form, able to pretend that a rice-paper screen was a sound-proof impenetrable wall. However, throwing a screaming fit of anguish and rage would push even their boundaries. He quietly summoned a server over, and waited as she flowed over, such rapid tiny steps that it was hard to believe that under the heavy silks she didn't have wheels. Bowing deeply, he indicated his most abject regrets that he had been summoned away, and presented his compliments to the chef. Unfortunately, so pressing was his emergency, he could not present his respect to the current owners, and hoped that they would accept a small token of his esteem instead. He dug into an inner pocket, blindly pulled out a handful of jewelry, and handed them to her cupped hands. Her almond eyes went widely round, and she almost forgot to bow. Catching herself, she bent double, touching her forehead to the ground, and backed out without standing, as if he were an Emperor from centuries ago. Lithely standing, his thoughts whirled... And caught. Dad was dead, and Mynx was going to rescue him. He had to stop her from throwing her life away. Word.

Peredhil could no longer dance and sing in the Paths. The constant exhausting sensory attacks alternating with timeless periods of sensory deprivation were beginning to take their toll. A new element had been added, empathetic attacks, subtle and insidious. The first had nearly tricked him into depression - an all too familiar Path. There was a magical brute force behind the delicate touches, causing a resonance within even when the emotions were denied. Memories stirred and came back to life as the emotions were re-experienced as freshly as the day they'd first happened. Fortunately, the Jailor lacked a certain imagination - everything was negative. But it was exhausting and his resources, cut off as he was, were finite. Worse, there was a certain combination to which he was largely defenseless. It would be immediately costly, but might buy him more time and life if he survived. He needed to deal with the memories of Celebrian, his lost wife. Building his external barriers up as best he could, he mentally faced the Opening to the Paths again, and once more entered. This time he turned away from the Ways of Solace and Peace, and took a dark bitter twisting Path into memory Hell. Time to deal with his guilt, his failure, the rage that he'd been unable to even express - Elladan and Elrohir had hunted the Orcs of the Misty Mountains for decades after their mother had gone West, but the burdens of leadership and duty had denied him such a selfish outlet. As he followed the burning memories, he embraced and opened himself to the rage, the pain, the loss, and ever moved forward. In a way, he hoped that he was weak enough to finally die before coming to the end. His most painful failure. He, the Healer with the Ring of Waters and Healing, greater and more subtle of skill than even a true King of Numenor, (for what were they but descendants of his brother?) had failed to heal the mind and body of she whom he had loved the most. Even the Valar in the West had been unable to heal her scars. But he - she was his wife, he should have been able to understand, to mend, in ways that true immortals could not. Either way, he was committed now. As he forced his way further, all his resources became stretched to their maximum, and some fragile threads began to snap. Planes away from their father and each other, Elladan and Elrohir each reacted in their own manner when the Life-Bond to their Dad snapped. Unknowing, Mynx continued to pick her way warily toward the Mountain.

Peredhil finally opened his eyes, blinked a few times, focused on the goblet in front of him and finally, took a cautious sip. With Guido bartending, he was always wary of practical jokes. As he relaxed in his chair, Nuncio finally relaxed from his guard stance, and pulled up a chair as well. Behind the bar, Guido replaced the sawed-off shotgun with special ammunition back into a bracket. Ever since the Kidnapping, they'd been extra careful. Being mostly non-magical bodyguards in magical environments, they were constantly aware of their limitations and striving to find ways to overcome them. "I think the Pen Keep will live, if barely. I may need you two to start being actively creative in some way." As Guido visibly brightened, whiskers quivering, he continued, "OTHER than practical jokes." He mercilessly ignored the big sad-eyes Guido gave him, having had quite enough experience with the ROUS in the past. "There are others already here. Without their help I don't think we'd have made it. As it was, it was very close. Some things may be irrevocably lost in the Banquet Hall." He paused to brood for a moment, and Nuncio nodded understanding. The Banquet Hall had been Peredhil's special favorite. Rousing himself, Peredhil took another sip. "I hate to be Rude, but I will send out a Call, in hopes that the Poets who made the works will be willing to appear long enough to restore them. Hmmm." He pulled a slim electronic device from his jacket pocket and made a notation. "I'll need to ensure that they have the permissions they need to fix their works. I had to freeze everything in order to preserve what was left." "On the bright side, my wife is here somewhere." All three grinned with delight. As long as they'd known their Boss, he'd been melancholy, carrying the pain of his lost wife as if it had been yesterday. They weren't certain just what had happened when he'd been kidnapped and held prisoner, but he'd finally released the memory of his first wife, and found his next was his rescuer. They would've loved Mynx just for her effect on the Boss, but once they'd gotten past the fact that she was a tigress and they were Rodents, abet of Unusual Size, they'd found her to be a very complex and delightful company. Nuncio, typically the quiet and most reserved, had been melted when she'd managed to turn a practical joke around on Guido that had left him dripping wet and covered with multi-colored feathers. He treasured that memory, and hoped it never faded; he'd been the butt of so many jokes. Guido loved someone else with a playful sense of humor as low and broad as his own. His jokes were never mean in spirit, and never meant to be harmful, and Mynx had helped him put one over on the Boss, AND helped him clean up the mess under the Boss's stern gaze and impatiently tapping foot. She had looked so innocent he'd never suspected his wife for an instant, and when she'd admitted gleefully and dissolved into giggles at his surprise, she'd gained a worshipful follower in Guido. Elrohir had warmed to her instantly, but then, he'd truly met her first. He didn't talk about that much, but he'd treated her with a wary respect ever since she'd rescued Peredhil when no one else could. She'd requisitioned him on a few of her wanderings since, and he'd gone without protest. Peredhil would've given her anything in all the Planes, but she maintained herself and still took the occasional mercenary contract. Even Elladan had accepted her, and she seemed to be completely comfortable with him. He'd avoided her, in the period after the rescue, until she'd cornered him in wherever that random hostel had been, where they'd fled After. No one, even Peredhil, knew the content of the intense low conversation, other than it involved someone by the name of Skielah, someone Mynx had once known, but they'd found a common understanding and mutual respect that spoke well for their future. Elladan still was frequently away, but was beginning to spend more time with the rest of the family. "Grab a drink and come sit with us while you may. Others are on their way here." He spoke to Guido, but his eyes kept straying to the door, looking for his wife.