"Because," said Silverthorn, the leader of the elven band, "how can we get the ransom money if no one knows we are AFTER money? Or where to deliver it?"
The little elf swallowed. "But why me? No, I know. It is because I am small, and fast. Just... give me the ransom note!"
The bigger elf nodded. "Yes, correct on both accounts. Here." He handed the short elf a strip of paper. The little elf did a double take when he saw it.
"Isn't this a bit much to ask for?" he asked, wide eyed. Silverthorn just snorted.
"He's rich, and head of a major corporation. It can be payed." Silverthown grunted. The small elf shrugged.
"Whatever you say, boss. I'll be right back!"
"You had better make sure that the note is delivered to Skan's house. They are bound to check that. Preferably where we found him."
The little elf nodded, then waved a goodbye. Then, in a flash of white, he was gone.
"Why are we doing this?" asked Tad, annoyed. Deric sighed in exasperation for the third time.
"Look, Tad, people don't just kidnap for the fun of it! They had weapons, they could have killed him. Either they want to interrogate him for something, or they want a ransom. And there should be a ransom note!"
Tad growled, but nodded. He HATED elves!
"I'll check the downstairs hallway," said Deric. "Tad, take the living room."
Tad was about to argue back, on how he couldnt be ordered around, but Silvara put a restraining hand on his arm.
"Come one, Love!" she smiled. "Let's go."
Tad's anger died down instantly, and he followed Silvara into the living room. After a bit of searching-Tad was told that he probably wouldn't have to look to hard; they wouldn't hide it-he spun around when he heard Silvara scream his name.
In the middle of the room stood a small elf, who instantly went pale to the face. He dropped a piece of paper and bolted out a door, with Tad and Silvara hot on his heels. They didn't hear the 'delaying party' that was being held dowstairs as they chased the young elf.
Deric had been in this house often enough to know his way around. If not by heart, seeing as it was such a large house, he knew the basics. The downstairs had the bedrooms and guestrooms, and a few others.
And he was pretty sure the following scene was not a usual part of Skan's house.
In front of him, in the crowded hallway, stood a half dozen elven soldiers, each armed with swords in hand. Deric's left hand went up to feel the hilt of one of his swords above his soldier, ready to draw. "Who are you?"
The front elf laughed. "We are the party!"
Deric was confused as to what he meant, but did not have much chance to think about it. The elves leaped forward, all roaring and swinging swords.
But in the narrow hallway, there superior numbers proved only to get in their way. Deric unsheathed both the long, mithril swords from his back and waded into battle. He blocked two blows with his swords, then kicked out at on of his attackers. He took his advantage to spin around and plunge his sword in the other aggressors chest. Then he spun around and used his other sword to cleanly decapitate the head of the first.
Two more met him, and a third tried, as well. Deric rolled and brought his sword up, blocking a blow. Then his legs sweeped under one of the other elve's feet, and his sword surged through the stomach of another. Quickly he pulled his sword back out, and spun around, his sword slashing through the chest of a fourth, and then down to pierce the neck of the fallen elf.
The last elf had no one else to get in his way, but Deric's skill with the sword was much better. He parried a blow with one sword, then the other one made the killing blow to the final elf.
The elves dead, Deric curveyed his carnage a while, then cleaned off his sword with one of their shirts and ran upstairs to meet Silvara and Tad.
"Stop!" yelled Tad, chasing after the small elf. The little elven escapee turned his head to face Tad, but otherwise gave no indication of hearing him. Finally, Tad stopped to pull out his C-14 Rifle, aimed at the back of the fleeing elf, and fired. A loud CRACK of the rifle was heard, and in a splatter of blood, the elf fell.
Before Tad could fire again, or run up to the elf, it dissapeared in a flash of white light. Silvara stopped Tad from running towards him.
"No, Tad," she said, putting a restraining hand on his arm. Tad stopped. "I recognize a teleportation spell when I see one. Let's go see what he dropped."
Tad nodded slowly, and led the way back into the living room, where the two had first encountered the elf. Waiting for him was Deric, who was bending down on his knees and reading the parchment the other elf had dropped. Deric read it, his eyes quickly scanning over it. He looked up at Silvara and Tad when they walked in.
"Some elves have returned," said Deric. He told Tad and Silv of what had happened in his fight. Tad shook his head quietly, wishing he could have been part of the elven bloodshed. "And Tad, look at this. Skan HAS been kidnapped for money. By elves." Deric handed Tad the scroll. "I think you will know who."
Tad looked over the paper, barely reading the text. It was basically what Deric said, as much as he hated to admit the elf being right. His eyes widened in surprise and anger at the amazing coincidence when he reach the bottom.
"No..."
"What?" asked Silvara, hugging close Tad's arm. "Honey, what is wrong?"
Tad could not speak, he just stared at the symbol acting as a seal on the letter. A treant, a living tree, making it's way speedily through the forest.
Deric answered Silvara for him. "The Forest Runners are a group of Sylvan Elves. Sylvan elves live in the woods and are basically savages. Over 10 years ago, our friend Tad was kidnapped by these elves and held as a slave for a third of his life. This same tribe also attacked Skan's house and kidnapped Tad's brother. Not a very friendly tribe for Tad, I'll bet."
Tad growled, and ripped the paper into shreds. "One hundred million dollars..." snarled Tad. "Skan has no where near that amount of money. We are going to the Ringing Mountains, to take Skan back, and destroy the Forest Runners!!"
Deric yelled his agreement, and Silvara nodded. But no one knew of the tragedy that this choice would lead them to.
The small elf gasped on the floor of Silverthorn's tent. The elder elf turned around to face him, and gasped. The elf had hardly anything less of his upper torso, and his left arm and shoulder were missing. The elf should not even be alive.
"The brother..." the little elf panted. "Tadrith Erreden! Alive... and with company... Everyone... dead..."
The larger elf snarled. It took some very good fighters to kill five elite soldiers! It would take a very great force to stop this... no more Forest Runners could be spared. Five were already dead.
The little elf made a little gasping sound then shriveled up and died. Six dead, not five. And by Tadrith Erreden... where was that name from?
Like a lightnint bolt, it struck. The escape slave! Skandranon's brother!? Silverthorn had thought it a coincidence! This was going to be difficult.
Silverthorn motioned for his gaurds, who had been watching the conversation and death without moving. "Take him out. And get me Densetsu. Tell him that we need his help once again."
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