Epilogue
Rathir leaned unsteadily against the bar in the tavern, swaying slightly with the sloshing of the ale in his mug. In his right hand he held a long white knife, the tip of which was firmly lodged into the wooden bar top. He twirled the knife around by the handle, admiring the intricate details etched onto the blade and into the handle.
Behind him his rowdy group of men raged on in their boisterous laughter and loud, crude harassment of the barmaids. Rathir ignored their childish behavior as best he could but the continuous knocking from the men that he received as they danced and stumbled about made that task extremely difficult.
With each subsequent bump Rathir would turn and give a hearty shove in return. Attempting to keep the slowly diminishing smile upon his face. He was not happy. He wasn’t angry either. It was just one of those nights where he did not want to be bothered. He just wanted to drink his ale and admire his knife.
Another collision and Rathir’s patience slipped another notch as the men began to sing some song regarding a rather, flirtatious maiden and her aptitude for lifting her skirts when she became overjoyed or excited. Rathir did enjoy a good laugh, song and beer with his men as much as they did but it just wasn’t that type of evening.
One more hefty shove came, this time throwing Rathir forward knocking into his ale and sending the mug flying. It came to a loud crash on the floor behind the bar and ale flowed freely about the shattered glass. The tavern went silent. That was it for Rathir, his patience was spent. He spun from the bar, a rather obscene expletive on the tip of his tongue. His offensive words were never to be heard as he turned to be greeted by the rather sharp end of a long sword.
“Remeber me?” Rathir searched the young man’s face for anything he could recognize. He did look rather familiar but Rathir couldn’t place from where. Next to the young man stood Leandir. Both men had identical expressions upon their dark faces and Rathir shied at the anger he saw there,
“Is this him?” Leandir asked but not to Rathir. He was speaking to the younger man even though his eyes never left Rathir.
Before the young man could answer, Thad came stumbling into the circle that had emptied around Rathir. “Hey!” His words slurred as he fell into Rathir. “That is the kid that we ran into on the road with the elf.”
“Quiet Thad!” Rathir cringed at the stupidity of his second as the young man with his sword still poised at his throat smiled broadly.
“I believe that answers your question Marshall. But if you need it to be a little more official. Yes, this is the man who lead the attack on Legolas and myself.” Out of the corner of his eye Rathir could see Thad sober up immediately and slowly step away from the three men. His foot was just barely out of the circle before the young man’s sword swung around and cut off his path. “And this is the man who helped him by doing his bidding.”
Leandir stepped slightly to his left and came face to face with Rathir. Rathir could feel his hot breath on his face and the dark fire in Leandir’s eyes as he glared. “Now this sounds much more believable than your story several weeks back.” He held Rathir’s gaze for a moment then stepped sideways again, clearing a way to the doorway. “Come on. Move.” Leandir gave a light shove to Rathir and urged him in the direction of the door.
Rathir reached back and grabbed his knife off of the counter and began to walk forward. Again he was greeted by the end of a long sword. “Hold. I believe that knife does not belong to you.” The young man held out his hand for Rathir to place the knife in. “I know someone who would very much like to have it returned.” Rathir spun the knife in his hand and handed the long, white blade to the man, handle first.
Rathir knew his time was coming to an end. He just didn’t think that this one and his elven friend would be the source of it. He had done everything right. When he had seen the elf shove this unconscious man down low he knew that the elf would not be able to miss the low hanging branch. Even he flinched at the impact of the elf’s head against the limb and as he approached the downed elf he believed him dead because not only had he hit his head on the branch but he had been met by a rather large rock upon impact with the ground. Blood had pooled around the elf’s head and Rathir had looked up to see the young man they had shot, slumped over the back of his horse, riding off randomly into the woods.
He had bent then and taken the elf’s knife and with a light tap of the arrow wedged into the elf’s back he rose and ordered his men to leave. If the elf weren’t dead already, he would soon succumb to his injuries and the young man had probably already proceeded him in this venture. Rathir obviously didn’t know what luck this pair had. That the Valar looked after this pair was undeniable and it raised Rathir’s ire as he was lead out into the street.
“Times up Rathir.” Leandir looked to the thief mockingly. “It has taken me years to get you into my jail and I think I shall keep you there for many to come. What do you have to say to that?”
What could he say to that? He knew he had been playing against fate and fate always, inevitably drew a good hand. He grunted to the Marshall then, nothing more could be said. He didn’t even fight the harsh grasp that came to his arm as he was lead to the town jail. The only thing he dreaded was the idea of Thad being his roommate for the next several years. That one could truly drive a man insane.
Estel shook Leandir’s hand firmly. “Thank you for your help Marshall. It is much appreciated. Not only by me but by the elves of Middle Earth.”
“It was the least I could do. Legolas did not deserve what he received and I only hope that he will forgive me for not acting on his behalf sooner.”
Estel had spoken with Legolas at length regarding Leandir and he knew that the elf held no ill will toward the Marshall. He had even lost his anger towards the men that he and Leandir had just delivered into the jail cell. “Legolas is quick to forgive and I do not believe that he ever held you responsible. He was just eager to forget Rathir and begin remembering his family.”
Leandir nodded in understanding before stepping out onto the porch of his office. “How is he doing?”
Estel pulled the long white knife from his belt and turned it over in his hand. The faint etching on the blade sparkled under the setting sun making the inscription easier to see and the beauty more evident. The weapon seemed to shine more in the hands of a friend and Estel could almost hear it calling to its owner.
“He is happy to be home and he thrives in the company of his family.” Leandir laughed lightly at the news and Estel joined in with a smile of his own. His heart swelled with the knowledge that what he spoke was true and he beamed at the knowledge that the pieces of the puzzle had all been found and that the scene was coming together. The Locke had been opened and Legolas would be fine.
“Where do you go now Estel?”
Estel looked to the distance, his gray eyes glowing with health. “I think I shall travel to Mirkwood. I understand that Legolas has a wonderful batch of tarts waiting for me.”
The End