While Ellonur somehow managed to sleep soundly, the noise of the bustling inn kept Meluion away. He stared up at the ceiling for far too long before he finally left the bed, dressed, and then locked the door behind him. A man passed him in the hallway and doubled back. “Excuse me, do you happen to be traveling by way of Rivendell?”
Meluion shook his head. “Only here for the night, I reckon, and going west after that.”
“Oh, my, there are a lot of you leaving. Safe journey to you!” offered the man before he continued down the hall, much too quickly for Meluion to explain west only meant as far as Falathlorn. He shrugged and made his way first to the pub, but it was far too crowded as the door, so he weaved back to the rounded door in the back and expertly ducked down to make his exit.
The sun was just setting as he emerged, and there were still a fair number of people near the stage. He recognized some of them and waved when he caught Cheyennelynne’s attention. She bowed to him gracefully as he approached. “Did you see the concert earlier?” asked Meluion, but before Cheyennelynne could answer, a warrior approached, a champion by the looks and gave a nod to both Meluion and Melloncolle as he joined Cheyennelynne and hailed his brother.
“I am organizing a party to travel to Helegrod. Might either of you gentlemen be interested in joining our cause?”
Meluion shook his head. “While I am a hunter of dark beasts, I doubt my quarry would be found there.”
Melloncolle shook his head. “I have just returned from Rohan, and must retire soon,” he explains. “Perhaps if you are still here come morning, I might join you.”
The champion nodded. “Good hunting to you,” he said to Meluion as he passed by. Once he was gone, Cheyennelynne nodded to Meluion. “Yes, I did see the concert. It was lovely. Ellonur put on a wonderful performance."
Meluion beamed. "He sure did! And it is good to see you, too, Melloncolle." He moved as a guard passed. "It is such a nice night, I thought I would take a walk."
“A walk?” questioned Melloncolle in a low voice as Meluion began to pass him. “I returned from Rohan to watch you go for a walk?”
Meluion paused, speaking equally softly. “The last time we had a concert, there was an incident. Nothing happened tonight.. yet. They may have been watching and waiting.” Meluion nodded to them both. "I hope you both have a pleasant evening."
As he walked away, he recalled that he had stowed his shield near the stage, should he have need of it during the concert. He circled around the fountain and gave a wave to a cousin or nephew who jumped up and waved (honestly, he had trouble telling hobbits apart at times). He looked back in the direction he was walking, and slowed down just before running right into a cloaked man on the side of the path. Meluion froze and took in his next breath sharply as the man, who still stood off to the side, pulled down his hood. “Oh…” The man looked Meluion over. “Hello.” He smirked, his southron accent thick. "I suppose you've been looking for me?"
Not far away, Melloncolle turned his head, and then moved around Cheyennelynne. “Stay behind me,” he hissed. Cheyennelynne nodded.
Meluion rested a hand on the hilt of his long knife. "Every single night. I suppose you knew that." He looked past Umayr to see Cheyennelynne, and gave a jerk of his head that she should go into the Pony, but she stayed frozen behind Melloncolle.
Umayr chuckled, "Of course. Let me introduce myself." He held out his hand for Meluion to take. "I am Umayr Haashim, the Butcher of Bree-town. And your reminder."
Before Meluion could react, a woman stepped in between them and gently laid a hand upon Umayr’s chest. “Perhaps you do not remember me, but I remember you. I believe that what we have to discuss with you is something you wish to hear. If the Pony is not to your liking, then chose the place yourself.” Nearby stood a shadowed figure, watching the scene play out.
Meluion drew his knife. "There is nothing to discuss; no words to be had."
Umayr glanced at the woman. "Very rude indeed, Indrala." He slapped her hand away from him. “You would do well to depart." He kept his other hand held out to Meluion. "Such poor manners."
From a distance, Aristar called out, “I think that everyone else always treats you with the respect you deserve.”
Meluion narrowed his eyes at Umayr, but does not return the gesture. Umayr smiles, "Much like your father. Though, I suspect you'll scream more." He pullled his hand back and dropped it to his waist. With his other hand balled into a fist, he attempted to plant a right hook on Meluion's cheek.
Melloncolle exhaled and said, “Stay behind me, Chey.. please!”
Cheyennelynne nodded, and took his hand and squeezed it. "I will."
Meluion dodged back, not the amateur fighter he was a year ago. "Missed me," he drawled, blade still drawn, but he does not make a move. “Not that I expect an answer, but before I do my best to make sure you never kill again, why did you? Why Lord Eledu? What is your purpose?”
Umayr laughed. "Why Eledu? Because I wanted someone who was weak. I got what I wanted." Umayr took a small step back and pulled several small throwing daggers from hidden sheathes beneath his armor.
Meluion licked his lips, focused more on Umayr's movements than his speech. "Why Rising Force? Why Children of Arda? Who do you work for?"
Umayr paused, "I suppose since this is the end I can reveal that much." He slipped the daggers between his fingers, and watched Meluion. "There is no relic that I seek. There is a man, capable of terrible things, a necromancer, lord of the dead. He will wrought ruin, it was my job to stop him. I was too late, he has gained a foothold that cannot be removed. You've all sealed your fate. I am a member of the secrect clan of assassins. The Serpents Kiss. I have failed my task and must recover some of my honor before my death.” Umayr finished with his daggers, and watched Meluion closely.
Caydan walked around the corner, paused, and raised an eyebrow. “What drama have I stumbled into?” He backed away and sat down nearby to watch.
Meluion listened intently to every word but kept his focus on Umayr's movements. He suddenly shouted out, "Chey, get down! Melloncolle! Aure Entulva!" to those behind Umayr. Melloncolle’s reaction was immediate as he launched a javelin in Umayr’s direction
Umayr glanced over to Aristar, and tensed. As the javelin flew at him, he rolled to the side of Meluion, and then he turned and threw daggers at the warden. Melloncolle had his shield up, and rushed forward at the assassin. Caydan leaped up from his seat and stepped further away.
As the confusion continued, Meluion ran to the concert field and retrieved his shield that had been left there earlier. He jumped up onto the benches, and sprinted across them to get back to the fight, where he leaped up onto the top rung of the fence. His voice rose up over the din. “Everyone, down! Now!" he barked at those still outdoors from the concert as he lifts his shield and covered himself with it. Umayr smiled, spun away from Melloncolle, and threw daggers at Meluion. Meluion crouched down, the shield deflecting the daggers.
Melloncolle rushed forward again, leading with his shield. He managed to get around Umayr and retrieved his javelin as Aristar nearby ducked down.
“How did you get behind me?” demanded Umayr as he sized up both brothers fighting him.
“Elvish magic,” answered Melloncolle.
“Oh, that’s fancy,” Umayr replied as he danced away from the shield. He lifted his last throwing dagger. “One more chance.” Nearby, Aristar watched, looking content to let Umayr succeed or fail on his own.
Meluion kept his shield up to use defensively. "I think, what you will find, is that we are not so... forgiving as father was." Closer to the inn, Cheyennelynne attempted to hide, yet still keep a watch on the battle.
Umayr laughed loudly and rolled forward, then turned and threw the last dagger at Aristar, who watched with disinterest as the dagger lodged square in his sternum. He sighed more out of annoyance than anything before he pulled the dagger out.
Meluion dropped his shield and took the crossbow from his back and aimed it at Umayr, but does not shoot yet. Meanwhile, Aristar pulled out a small vial of athelas essence and spread it into the gash in his armor.
Umayr took a breath and reached into his pouch. Soon he held smoke bombs in his left hand, and a dagger in his right. Wasting no further time, Meluion let an arrow go in the direction of Umayr's right hand, and then quickly loaded another arrow.
The arrow barely missed, and then Umayr smashed one of the bombs, and dropped to the ground. He rolled out of the smoke, and then threw another near Meluion.
Meluion lifted his arm and coughed, blinded momentarily but feeling someone moving nearby. He stumbled off the fence, crossbow hitting the ground as he doubled over to seek out clean air.
Finally gaining the upper hand, Umayr slipped behind Meluion. He yanked the elf up by the hair and placed a dagger at his throat. Another knife was drawn from his boot, the same he used to butcher Eledu, and the point was poked into Meluion’s lower back.
Melloncolle, now directly behind Umayr, swung his sword around to place the blade to Umayr's throat and flicked the blade, shaving off a few whiskers.
“Oh, not the beard," Umayr said as he looked back up at the elf behind him.
“Nasty things, beards,” replied Melloncolle.
"That helmet makes you look darling.” Umayr smiled, driving his right elbow into Melloncolle’s side. Melloncolle stepped back but chuckled as he heard Umayr’s bone crack on his shield instead. Meluion suddenly stopped coughing, having faked the reaction, and jerked his elbow back towards Umayr's gut.
Umayr stumbled back and coughed, the wind knocked out of him.
Melloncolle took up a defensive stance. “Why do these mortals not carry shields?”
Meluion spun around to retrieve his shield. "Perhaps I will study men as soon as I finish with Elves," he told his brother.
Umayr caught his breath and backed away from Meluion. "Certainly much better than I was lead to believe,” he remarks.
Meluion straightened up a little, but still kept his shield up. "Training helps. So does a taste for revenge, does it not, brother?" he called to Melloncolle.
Melloncolle nodded. “Indeed”
Umayr shook his head, "Play fair elf, fight me alone. I've little doubt that you'll lose."
“Fair is hardly how you play, Southron,” answered Melloncolle.
Umayr said, “Is that so? I think your father would agree I was fair.”
Meluion raised a brow. "Play fair? Play fair..." He chuckled. "Was it fair when Lady Lindethiel was attacked in an alleyway? Was it fair when two came here to kill one at a concert? Was it fair when you and your associate captured the magistrate on the road?" Melloncolle nodded his head in agreement with his brother.
Umayr replied, “Maybe not, but it was needed. They all had information that could've helped. Now it's too late.”
“My father is a kind, compassionate, forgiving fool that I love dearly,” countered Meluion. “There was no fight against him, fair or otherwise. He offered you information; you attacked him.”
Umayr answered, “Sadly that will not matter; your fate is sealed.”
“This is no fight but, his death sentence,” Melloncolle called out. “Let us stop debating with this creature and chum him up for the Hobbits to fish with.”
Meluion shakes his head. "If you really wanted to help, you would have sought the information without harming them. I do not believe your words. As for my fate, I know I died once, and I probably died twice. Unlike others you have faced, death and I are old friends, and not a friend I fear.”
“Good,” said Umayr, “Then you shall embrace death with a smile.”
Meluion smirked. “Already have. But you.. you should make acquaintance with death.” Meluion adjusted his grip on his knife. "I insist," he snarls.
Umayr laughed, holding his last smoke bomb in his hand, "I worship death." He threw it down, and then he rushed past Meluion towards the western gate.
Caydan, still standing near the inn, perked up a little but quickly returned his attention to his drink.
“Melloncolle! Horses!” barked out Meluion as he grabbed his shield. He sheathed his knife and grabbed his crossbow before he raced to catch up to Umayr.
Once outside of the city, Umayr threw another bomb at Meluion, and then dropped below the bridge. Meluion ran halfways over the bridge, heard a splash, and jumped off the bridge into the water below. After firing two arrows, Meluion realized he ran the risk of hitting innocent bystanders, and Umayr’s constant dodging in and out had already earned him several knicks and surface wounds along his arms.
Meluion cast the bow down into the water and pursued Umayr. Using his shoulder to lead with, Meluion ran full force into Umayr. The pair hit the water, each of them swiping with their knives at the other, until Meluion reached around and retrieved his shield. He began to use it as a battering ram, shoving it repeatedly into the assassin, and occasionally turning it to the side to jab the pointed end of the shield at him.
One such attack jabbed deep into Umayr’s thigh, and he stumbled back and out of the water, his left leg bleeding. Meluion flicked his tongue out at the corner of his mouth, tasting blood, just before he lifted his left leg to kick at Umayr’s stomach in an attempt to knock him back into the water. Umayr tucked back and rolled to the side, but used the water to slow himself after barely dodging the kick.
“Well done, brother,” commended Melloncolle as he and Cheyenne road as near as they dared. Melloncolle lifted Meluion’s double-edged axe, having brought it from the inn, and stood like a squire at the ready. Several others rushed from the gates of Bree to watch, including Caydan who sauntered up, his attention focused on the blood in the water.
Meluion was distracted momentarily by Melloncolle, and turned back to have wet sand thrown into his face. He blinked and growled as Umayr elbowed him into the bridge. Meluion turned so that his shoulder hit the stone instead of his head, and then he retrieved his shield. This time, he fought without a knife, landing punches and kicks, his shield still used both offensively and defensively. Umayr, on the other hand, flung knives or would manage to sneak around and slash or stab a blade as close as he dared to get.
Once Meluion realized there was a rhythm to Umayr’s dodges and charges, he waited, and at the opportune moment, dropped the shield and grabbed hold of Umayr’s left wrist. Meluion curled the fingers of his other hand but kept his palm flat. He drew back his arm, and then shot it forward again, bringing it directly into Umayr’s left forearm. Meluion smiled to himself as he heard the crack of bone.
Umayr stumbled back again, his left arm useless, and his left leg bleeding more. Meluion wasted no time, and charged forward to head-butt Umayr down, not noticing the knife in Umayr’s right hand. While Umayr fell back, Meluion put a knee up to try to knock the wind out of Umayr. The assassin drove the dagger expertly between the stitching of the leather chest guard the elf wore.
“Brother, put a bolt from your bow through his neck and another through his eye to ensure the crafty devil is dead!” shouted Melloncolle as he stood with those watching. “The coup de grace as his people would call it!” Aristar strolled down to the edge of the water, watching the duel.
Meluion drew breath in sharply as the dagger stabbed him. He stepped back to get a solid stance before he pulled the dagger out with one stroke. He looked down at Umayr and almost laughed, then lifted the blade and ran his tongue through his own blood before he tossed the dagger into the water. "Maybe you should stay down,” he advised. He lifted an arm and gave a nod to Melloncolle, who tossed the axe down to his brother. Meluion caught it and stood over Umayr, awaiting a reply.
Umayr looked up at the elf. "Okay, then. That was a little disturbing." He pushed up with his one good arm, and he looked at the elf. "One last go, eh?"
Meluion tests the balance of the axe. “I would suggest best two out of three, but I win either way..”
Umayr chuckled at Meluion. “Yes, you win, and that was the point of this.” Umayr unsheathed his sword as he watched the elf. "I have something to tell you.”
Caydan, standing on the shore, frowned and rolled his eyes.
Meluion swung his axe around once over his head before the took up a battle stance with it. "Then speak."
Umayr shook his head and eyed up Aristar before he looked back at Meluion. "Come closer, this is for your ears only." Aristar waded across the river, drawing his sword and dagger in case.
Meluion shook his head once. "Come closer, so you can stab me in the gut? Or perhaps tear my face off and eat my eyeballs? No, I am not an idiot."
Melloncolle dismounted, and walked around to block Aristar. “Can we help you, Man?”
Umayr laughed and tossed his blade into the sand and he stepped closer to Meluion. He raised his hands in the air. "Believe me." Meluion kept the axe between them but let Umayr approach.
Aristar looked at Melloncolle and said, “I wish to have a better view of this momentous occasion.”
“Fair enough,” Melloncolle repied, though he kept his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Umayr placed his hand on Meluion's shoulder, and leaned towards his ear. Umayr took a few breaths, flecks of blood splattering on Meluion's neck and hair. "This is not the end." Umayr he takes a shuddering breath, and continues to whisper for several minutes to Meluion. The elf, hands gripped on the axe, listens but shows no emotion to the words being said. Finally, as he pulled away, Umayr said, “I was only the beginning, they remain." As he stepped back, he picked up his sword and saluted Meluion. "Coup De Grace."
After listening, Meluion replied back, "You brought this upon yourself." He swung the axe around. "I just want you to know that once I get done with you, I am going to let him-" he paused and pointed the axe to his brother, "-do what he wants. I want you to think about that in your final moments. What could we possibly decide to do with your corpse.” Nearby, Melloncolle drew the fileting knife from the folds of his hauberk.
Meluion swung the axe around the other way, relearning its weight. "Perhaps... exactly what you did to our father. Perhaps we will chop you into bits and use you as fishing bait. Maybe string you up like a scarecrow with a pole up your arse. I suppose... you will never know..."
Melloncolle added, “Not where he's going.”
Umayr smiled. "After death I am free. The Friend of the Nine remain, they have infiltrated your ranks, and gained your trust. My mission is done." He raised his sword and looked at Melloncolle as he smiled. "A fitting revenge."
Caydan narrowed his eyes.
Around the stream, others in the town of Bree were turning the area into a carnival atmosphere, complete with dancing and Ladhrillion putting on a fire-breathing performance.
Umayr stood up, sword raised with his good arm. “Remember, you will be no better than I.”
Melloncolle answered first with, “We will always be better than you, for you are a murderer and have earned a murderer's fate.”
Meluion wiped his hand across the gash on his cheek, the blood smearing. "Actually, you will be better off dead, and I will be better off without you. I.. think I am better than you, on so very many levels,” he said as he lifted the axe.
Umayr shrugged. "Either way, I await death. Take your revenge, but heed my warnings." He lunged forward.
The duel began again, each of them giving their all. Metal rang out as the blades clashed, and while Meluion stood his ground and blocked Umayr’s advances, Umayr dodged in and out with the last of his energy. Meluion raised his axe as Umayr charged one final time, and broke the blade of the sword before it could plunge into him. With Umayr now close, Meluion pulled a knife from his vest and jabbed it into Umayr’s chest, then yanked it up with great force before he pulled it back out. Umayr fell down onto his knees, weaponless, knives and sword too far for him to retrieve.
Melloncolle looked down from where he stood on shore. “I think perhaps we should feed his corpse to these bristlehides.” Umayr took slow controlled breaths, blood flowing from a large open wound across his chest. “Yes,” continues Melloncolle, “let the boars eat him and shit out his remains all over Breeland. Fine graves for an assassin.” Aristar clasped his hands behind his back as he watched the scene, and nearby, Caydan sighed.
Meluion got a good grip on the axe as he loomed over Umayr. "I am Bainith Eleduion, and you are nothing!" he sneered as he swung the axe around, the edge aimed for Umayr's neck.
Umayr tilted his head, a smile on his lips. "Before you, I am nothing," he said, his voice carrying clearly across the water to those listening.
Meluion followed through, and then kicked the body into the water. A moment later, he set down the axe and fished the head out before it could float downstream.
A moment later, Melloncolle joined his brother. “I think we'll just collect a pound of flesh for father and leave the corpse for what friends he may have,” he said as Umayr’s blow flowed out from his still twitchihng body, coloring the stream red. Aristar turned and headed over the bridge back to Bree, one last glance spared for Umayr's corpse.
Meluion dropped the head into a sack and tied it shut, his own wounds causing him to stumble and lean against the briddge. "The body is yours, brother. This I take to show the Magistrate and as proof of Umayr's death." Caydan looked at the corpse, then headed back to town.
Melloncolle added, “I will take a bit of his hide to make Father some boots or a sword sheath.” He stooped down to slice off a generous portion of the assassin’s hide. “He died well. I think the fish can have him rather than the boars.” Cheyennelynne looked once more at the body, then turned away. Once finished, Melloncolle saluted Umayr as the body floated away down the stream.
Meluion walked back into Bree, the axe a crutch as he limped in through the gate. Some applaud him while others smile or simply move out of his way. He looked down the road. The distance to the inn seemed much too far now, and so he walked to the nearest open door and went inside.
The bright lights of the town vault greeted him as he entered. Tad Gardener addressed him without looking up. “Yes, can I help you?''
“I think I need a healer,” answered Meluion as he dripped blood onto the counter.
Maud Foxglove leaned back to look at the elf that entered. “Tad, see if that dwarf who was just in here stowing potions is still out front,” she directed as she came around the counter and settled Meluion onto a bench. She looked at the sack he dropped onto the floor. “Would you like me to keep that here for you?” Meluion shook his head, but handed her the blood-stained axe just before he passed out.
He awoke hours later at the barracks to the sound of the Magistrate, Mayor, and the Appledoor sisters deep in discussion about the events of the evening. Meluion checked immediately for the pack, and found it resting on the floor next to the bed, head inside, staring up at him when he opened the bag. He tied it shut again and leaned back in bed, where he waited until the healer stopped to check on him so that he could request someone aid him with writing a letter. His wounds, in time, would heal, both physical and psychological. Just as Umayr was free, so was he.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Co-written as RP with everyone who appears in it. The death of Umayr.
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