Stories of Arda Home Page
About Us News Resources Login Become a member Help Search
swiss replica watches replica watches uk Replica Rolex DateJust Watches

Elf Academy 3: The Enemy Within  by Fiondil

66: Valentine’s Day

Alex climbed the stairs, yawning. When he reached his bedroom, he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his jeans, throwing them onto the back of a chair before climbing into bed. He didn’t think he would actually sleep in spite of his yawning (he had never been one for taking naps) but being horizontal felt good and he let out a deep sigh of contentment as he lay there thinking over his session with Ron. That Elf was perceptive, almost too perceptive. Somehow he knew that Alex hadn’t told the whole story of what had gone down in Granada, what he had done. He had never told anyone, not even his superiors. If they guessed or learned the truth for themselves, he never knew and this late in the day he didn’t care. He was out of that life and he never wanted to go back.

He yawned again and readjusted his position slightly, feeling his eyelids grow heavy. In moments, and in spite of himself, he was fast asleep. And he began to dream….

****

It was a familiar dream, one he had had many times.

He was walking through the Riad, the courtyard of fountains in the Generalife gardens. Alex headed for a particular fountain and stood there waiting. He was unsure why. When he had gotten to Granada the night before he found a message waiting for him at the hotel where he was staying. It was from Junior. He had no idea how his friend and fellow agent had known where he was. The message had been very specific: Meet me at the Riad at four tomorrow. A map was included of the gardens and the specific fountain where he and Junior were to meet was marked. He memorized the map and then burnt both it and the message before leaving the hotel to find some dinner.

Now here it was almost four and he wished he knew how Junior had tracked him down. The last he’d heard, his friend had been stationed in Brussels. What the hell was he doing in Spain? Life in the Agency was very compartmentalized by necessity; everything was on a need-to-know basis. He only knew that Junior was in Brussels because they kept in contact with one another. Something important must be going down for Junior to break all protocol this way.

Then he felt it: the tingling in the back of his neck, what someone had called his Spidey-sense, alerting him to danger. It was then that he noticed the three men, strangers, who approached him from three different directions. They were Spanish in looks and he somehow knew without knowing how he knew that they had come for him, that Junior had sent them.

He turned so his back was to the fountain and waited. When the three men came within a few feet of him, they stopped and the one facing him spoke.

“So, the American spy come to admire our gardens,” he said with a sneer.

“Lo siento, señor, pero no hablo iñgles,” Alex said, evincing an innocent look.

“Don’t play games with me, boy,” the man retorted. “Now, come with us and I promise we won’t hurt you… much.” He leered at him.

“And if I refuse?” Alex asked. Where the hell was Junior? Who were these men and why did they want him? To go with them was out of the question. He knew that if he did he would not live to see the next dawn.

“I don’t think that is an option, kid,” the man said, almost kindly, and then he nodded and all three of them came at Alex at once.

He never knew how he managed to best all three of them. Somehow training took over and when it was done, one was floating in the fountain face down, the water stained red with blood, while the other two were lying unconscious at his feet. He gasped for breath, his whole body shaking with adrenaline and fear. He realized the man in the fountain was dead and that he’d killed him. The very thought sent him to nearby rosebushes where he threw up his lunch.

Afterwards he went to a different fountain to rinse his mouth out before returning to where the men were. He had little time. Someone was bound to come along and he could not be there when they did. He rifled through the pockets of the two men, looking for clues. In the pocket of one was a photo. He stared at it in disbelief. It was a photo of him and Junior. He recognized the location: Malta. He and Junior had taken a rare vacation there together when they were both between assignments at the same time. They had gotten some British tourist to take it for them. He had his own copy, so this could only have come from Junior.

Where was Junior? He shook his head and shoved the photo into the pocket of his jeans. He had found nothing else to tell him who these men were or why they had attacked him. He needed to leave now. Lingering was only going to bring him grief. But he hesitated, looking down at the two men who were still unconscious, then glancing at the one floating in the fountain.

And at that moment, Artemus Gordon Meriwether went over to the dark side as he calmly pulled one of the unconscious men up and pushed him head first into the fountain and held him there until he knew the man was dead, and then he did the same with the second, who was only just coming around. Once the man was dead he set off for the entrance, meaning to leave the gardens as quickly as he could. He had taken only a dozen steps when something made him look back.

The two men he had murdered in cold blood were no longer there, only the one who had died by accident, cracking his head on the stone of the fountain when Alex had thrown him over his shoulder. Alex stared around in horror. He knew something was not right. This wasn’t how it had gone. He had left the gardens without ever looking back.

He started to turn away but in the corner of his eye motion attracted his attention. He watched in disbelief as the man floating in the fountain began to stand up. Water cascaded from him as he rose. Alex wanted to run, but he couldn’t. Something forced him to stay where he was. And then the man raised his head and Alex started screaming as he saw his own face, dead eyes staring back at him….

****

Glorfindel, Finrod and Valandur raced up the stairs, nearly colliding with Elrohir and Serindë at the second floor landing, the two having rushed from the sunroom.

“It’s Alex,” Glorfindel said unnecessarily as he ran up to the third floor and then threw open the door to Alex’s bedroom without bothering to knock while everyone else piled in behind him. Alex was sitting up in bed, his eyes closed, still screaming.

“Should we call Ron?” Elrohir asked.

“No. We’ll handle this,” Glorfindel said as he reached Alex and took the Mortal into his embrace, shaking him. “Alex! Alex! Wake up! It’s just a dream. Wake up!”

But Alex was too caught up in the nightmare to hear him. Finrod came onto the bed, straddling the Mortal and then calmly and methodically began slapping him as Glorfindel continued to hold him. He was slapping the Man a third time when Alex’s screams cut off and he was blinking open his eyes, gazing at them uncomprehendingly.

“Must’ve been some nightmare,” Glorfindel said in a light tone that did not match the concern in his eyes. “Will you tell us?”

Alex shook his head. “Nothing to tell,” he muttered, swallowing with a grimace at the rawness of his throat.

Elrohir had gone into the bathroom across the hall and came back bearing a glass of water, handing it to Alex, who accepted it gratefully. As he drank the water, he stared at Finrod who was still straddling him, his expression unreadable.

“Should I be worried for my virtue?” Alex said with a quirk of an eyebrow once he finished drinking.

Glorfindel chuckled. “Your virtue is safe with us.”

Finrod nodded and sidled off the bed. “What were you dreaming?” he asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Alex said evasively. He had not told Ron the truth; he wasn’t about to tell these guys.

“Remember what Amroth said about dreams?” Glorfindel said, giving the Mortal a frown.

“Yeah, sure, but I promise you this has nothing to do with what’s going on now. It’s… old baggage from before.”

“Do you want us to call Ron?” Finrod asked.

“Why? He probably just got home and put his feet up. I’d hate to have him come all the way back here. I’ll be seeing him on Friday anyway.” He glanced at the clock on the night table. “Damn, it hasn’t even been a whole half hour. I must’ve really zonked right out.”

“It happens,” Glorfindel said, giving the Mortal a searching look. Alex found he couldn’t quite meet the Elf’s eyes. “Well, we’ll leave you then. Dinner’s at seven as usual.”

Alex just nodded. “Thanks. I think I’ll grab a shower and then I need to look over my notes for my classes tomorrow.”

The Elves left, closing the door behind them. For a long moment, Alex just sat there staring at nothing in particular. Finally he drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, hiding his face. “God, I need help,” he whispered. He stayed as he was for several long minutes and then straightened, throwing back the bedcovers and climbing out, undressing completely and pulling a bathrobe around him before heading for the bathroom.

****

No one spoke of what had happened to him, either at the gym or later, for which Alex was grateful. Conversation at the dinner table in Edhellond centered on Glorfindel explaining the custom of St. Valentine’s Day, which was coming up, when one of the Valinórean Elves asked for an explanation for all the hearts and candy and ‘those naked winged babies’ that were evident in the stores now. The Elves were naturally bemused and amused by the explanation.

“A day devoted to lovers,” Lindorillë said, shaking her head. “How strange.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Daeron said. “A day where everyone tells the people they love that they do indeed love them is not a bad custom for anyone. People don’t say ‘I love you’ often enough.”

“And it’s not just a day devoted to lovers, or it’s not strictly devoted to them,” Elrohir said. “I’m sure Alex and Edward used to give out valentines to their classmates and teachers when they were kids.”

“Oh yeah, and then you counted to make sure you received an equal number of valentines from everyone else in the class,” Alex said with a laugh. Finlay smiled and raised his wine glass in salute before taking a sip and then leaning over to give Sakari a kiss on the cheek, whispering something that the Elves probably could hear, but politely pretended they could not.

“Most couples will go out to dinner, somewhere romantic, where the lights are low and the music soft,” Barahir said, giving them a somewhat suggestive smile. “The man will buy long-stemmed roses, red roses, and maybe some chocolate for the woman.”

“And you have to wonder about that,” Alex said with a grin.

“What do you mean?” Eirien asked.

“Oh, just that chocolate is so fattening. The guy buys the girl a big box of chocolates and it’s like, eat up dear and get real fat and then I’ll dump you for someone slimmer.”

“Good lord! That’s a real cynical view,” Daeron exclaimed, actually looking shocked. Some of the other Elves looked equally nonplused. Finlay frowned and softly translated for Sakari, who gave a disdainful sniff and said something in her own language that none of them understood, but they recognized the tone as one of scorn. Several of the Elves attempted (and failed) to hide their smiles.

Alex shrugged, apparently unaffected. “Yeah, well, you have to wonder. Me, I’d just stick with the roses and forget the chocolates.”

“I’m sure all your lovers appreciated your thoughtfulness,” Glorfindel said blandly as he took a sip of his wine.

Alex actually blushed and busied himself with his plate, so he missed the knowing looks that passed between Glorfindel and Finrod. After that, the conversation drifted to other topics of interest, much to Alex’s relief, and the rest of the evening passed quietly.

****

The week passed without incident, which worried many people. There had been no sign of Farrell and all the Elves who’d been sent out to track him returned without any success, much to their annoyance.

“Either I’ve lost my touch or this Farrell is very, very good,” Haldir groused at one point to Glorfindel and Finrod when he reported to them.

“I think he is getting help,” Finrod said.

“Help from whom, though?” Glorfindel countered, but Finrod could only shrug, not having an answer.

So life continued. The Elves still met regularly with Vorondur, Max and Sunny for their anger management classes and several of them admitted that being able to voice their sense of frustration and confusion in a ‘safe’ environment was helping them to cope. A number of them took the initiative to offer classes to the people of Wiseman to teach them a variety of skills, from weapons-making to weaving, on a one-to-one or small group basis. At first, few people signed up and the Elves wondered what they would do if no one showed for their classes, but after the first week, others, having heard about the classes from their friends, also signed up and soon there were several classes being held, much to the Elves’ relief.

Since many of the skills being taught were considered ‘medieval’ by modern standards, this happily segued into those working to form an SCA group in Wiseman. Posters had gone up around the town, courtesy of Jud and others, and on the following Saturday, about ten people showed up evincing interest.

“That’s a good start,” Glorfindel told Jud when the young Man complained that he’d hoped for more. “Rome wasn’t built in a day, you know that. Those ten people know others who might be interested. We’re not going to get the entire town to join the SCA, that’s impractical, but between the classes being offered and all, we have a good base from which to work.”

So, when Amroth checked in later on the Saturday, Glorfindel could tell him the good news. “There is definite interest in having a branch of the SCA in Wiseman. They’re going to meet next week and see about coming up with a name for themselves. When do you think Gareth can come up?”

“We talked it over and decided that he would return with us when it’s safe to do so,” Amroth replied.

“Good enough. Farrell’s still hiding somewhere and we’ve found no trace. I’d like to think he’s just given up and left, but that’s a lovely fantasy on my part.”

“He’ll make a move, though. He’s bound to,” Amroth pointed out.

“I know. I just hope innocents don’t get hurt when he does.”

Alex had the same worry, though he kept it to himself. He continued teaching his classes and dutifully reported to Vorondur on Friday.

“Glorfindel told me you’d had a nightmare,” Vorondur said at the beginning of the session.

“And he had no right to go running to you,” Alex returned hotly.

“Would you have told me about it?”

Alex just shrugged, not willing to admit that he’d had no intention of ever mentioning the nightmare. For a long moment, Vorondur just looked at him and what he was thinking was anyone’s guess. Alex tried not to fidget. After an interminable few minutes, Vorondur shifted his gaze to the pad on his lap and wrote something on it. “So tell me what you decided.”

Alex took a long breath and let it out slowly. “I still think what’s happened to me is a curse. I don’t think I’ll ever look upon it as a blessing, but I need to control it or minimize it or something. I can’t go on like this, Ron. I’m a danger to myself and others.”

“I agree,” Vorondur said. “So, why don’t we get started?”

“How?”

“It’s always a good idea to start at the beginning,” Vorondur said with a smile. “So let’s start with Beren….”

****

The following Tuesday was Valentine’s Day. Alex had thought to buy Felicity a card to express his feelings of gratitude for their friendship. He wondered if this time next year, that friendship might blossom into something more, something deeper. He had never really had a ‘girlfriend’, not in the usual sense of the word. His liaisons with women had by necessity been brief and usually work-related. He’d had no time for real relationships, but now…

Thus, on Tuesday morning, as he made his way to the college, a Valentine was tucked in his messenger bag along with his books and notes. He unlocked the door to the office and turned on the lights and immediately noticed that Felicity’s coat was not hanging up on the coat tree as it should have been. His first thought was that perhaps she was ill, yet she had seemed perfectly fine when he had seen her on Friday. He’d not had an opportunity to speak with her over the weekend, so perhaps she contracted a bad cold or something. The flu was still going around even this late in the season.

Making his way to his desk, he spied an envelope propped up against his computer screen. It looked like a card and he smiled as he imagined Felicity leaving it for him to find. Dropping his bag on his chair, he slit open the envelope and pulled out the card, smiling at the schmaltzy picture of hearts and flowers and cherubs. His smile fled when he opened the card to read the sentiment. It took him three tries for his brain to register what was written there. When it finally clicked, he dropped the card and raced out of the office and down the hall to the dean’s office where the department secretary was.

“Barbara,” he called as he came inside, “family emergency. Cancel my classes for the day, will you? Thanks.”

“Mr. Grant! What—?”

But Alex was already racing back out the door. “Sorry. No time to chat,” he called out and then muttered darkly to himself, “Places to go, people to kill.” He stopped at his office long enough to close and lock the door before he sprinted away, leaving his bag behind. If all went well, he would retrieve it later; if not, it wouldn’t matter. Two minutes later he was driving away.

****

Ed Finlay watched Meriwether, as he insisted on thinking of him — who the hell was Alex Grant, anyway? — enter Rosamond Hall, his jeep parked where he could see the other man come and go. He adjusted the volume of the CD player, drumming his fingers to Duran Duran’s Ordinary World. Call him old-fashioned, but he preferred songs with actual messages and this one spoke to him, considering that his world was anything but ordinary. He started singing along.

“…and I won’t cry for yesterday, there’s an ordinary world somehow I have to find, and as I try to make my way to the ordinary world, I will learn to survive…”

He glanced at his watch. He had two more hours before he would be relieved. He’d been recruited by the Elves — sheesh! Elves, no less! — to keep an eye on Meriwether when Valandur was unable to accompany Alex to the college that morning because Daeron needed him for something and Finlay was more than willing to obliged. He’d missed the Game stuck in that frozen hell plotting fun ways to kill Meriwether if he ever managed to escape. All that had changed when he fell in love with Sakari. He smiled at nothing in particular as he thought about his wife of not even two months. They should’ve gone on a honeymoon. Florida, maybe. Yeah. He should’ve taken her to Disney World. She would’ve loved that. Well, maybe some—

“Hello!” Finlay muttered as he spied Alex flying out the door and running pell-mell to his car. “Where are you going in such a rush?” His first instinct was to follow the former agent, but something told him he might learn more if he went to Meriwether’s office. He knew where it was. Besides, he’d had the foresight to plant a tracer on Meriwether’s car, courtesy of the Elves who apparently were tight with local law enforcement. Meriwether wasn’t going anywhere without Finlay knowing about it. He waited long enough to be sure that the other agent was gone before he climbed out of the jeep and sauntered into the building, making his way to Meriwether’s office.

Locked, of course. Well, he’d never met a lock that could defeat him and this one was easy-peasy in comparison to some. He pulled out his wallet and chose a credit card, slipping it into the crack, surreptitiously looking about to make sure no one was watching, but everyone was in class and the hall was blessedly empty. There was a slight click and he was in. Closing the door behind him, he turned on a light and went to what he had to assume was Meriwether’s desk because he saw the messenger bag sitting on the chair in front of it. There was no sign of that Felicity chick and he thought that was odd, but then he spied the card lying on the floor and bent to pick it up.

A valentine. How cute.

“Damn!” Finlay pulled out his phone and speed-dialed a number.

“DelaFiore.”

“This is Finlay. I’m in Meriwether’s office. I’m holding a Valentine card with the following message: If you want to see your girlfriend alive, come to Winterdark Tarn. Come alone. Be there by noon or she dies. It’s not signed, but I’m sure we all know who sent this.”

“Where’s Alex?”

“Flew out of here like a bat out of hell. Don’t worry. I put that tracer you lent me on his car. I can follow him.”

“Do that, but Edward, take care. Winterdark Tarn holds more danger than you can imagine, and I don’t necessarily mean Farrell.”

“Whatever. So where exactly is this place?”

“Go north on the James Dalton Highway. You’ll see a sign for the Mt. Horace Resort. Turn there. There’s a funicular that’ll take you up to the trails behind the resort. You’ll see the signs for the tarn. Wait for us. Do not, I repeat, do not take the trail alone.”

“Yeah, well, kiss Sakari for me,” Finlay said as he shoved the card into a coat pocket, turned off the lights and left, making sure the door was locked.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Edward,” Glorfindel commanded. “We’ll be on our way as well.” The call ended and Finlay made his way back to his jeep, turning the CD back on and selecting Ordinary World again. As the song started Finlay snorted to himself. “Yeah, ordinary world, right. Is there any such thing?” He shook his head and put the jeep in gear, turning on the GPS that would track Meriwether’s car for him.

****

Glorfindel speed-dialed Finrod’s number even as he was racing through Edhellond shouting instructions to whoever was there. “Gather all and any weapons. Darren, go out to the woods and corral them in. We’ll gather in the conference room. Barry, go warm up my van. We’ll just take the one vehicle and—hello, Finrod! Farrell’s kidnapped Felicity Cohen and taken her to Winterdark Tarn. He left Alex a message and Alex is heading that way now. Finlay’s following. I’m gathering up the troops. I’ll swing around and pick you up at the Safeway in fifteen minutes. Call Ron for me. Tell him if he wants in, to be with you when I pick you up because I ain’t stopping for nobody, and tell him winter camouflage. He’ll know what that means.”

Not giving Finrod a chance to respond, he shut down his phone and made his way to the conference room where people were gathering, all of them shouting and demanding answers. As soon as Glorfindel stepped inside, all noise ceased. “We’re going to Winterdark Tarn,” he said quietly. “I want anyone who is going in winter camouflage. Bows and arrows only. Leave the long knives behind. We’re taking my van. You have five minutes. Go.”

“We can’t all fit in your van, though,” Daeron said.

“We’ll take one other car, but no more,” Glorfindel acquiesced. “That means fourteen people, including me, Finrod and Vorondur. Decide who’s going but make it quick.”

With that he left the room, heading for his own bedroom where he changed his clothes and grabbed his own bow and a quiver of arrows. Downstairs he found several people milling about armed with bows. They were all dressed as he was in shades of white, black and gray. Glorfindel nodded approvingly. “Let’s go,” he said, stopping just long enough to give Helyanwë a brief kiss before heading out.

“The Valar be with you,” she said and others echoed her sentiment as they saw the rescuers on their way.

With Glorfindel came the Twins, Aldarion, Mithlas, Haldir and the two Legolases, while Thandir, Edrahil and Beleg piled into Barahir’s car with Barahir driving. Glorfindel wanted to break all speed limits but forced himself to drive sensibly. He was pulling into the Safeway parking lot and saw Finrod standing there. Another car came in and they saw Ercassë driving. She pulled over and Vorondur got out, dressed primarily in white. He was weaponless. He waved at his wife who waved back before following Finrod into the van with Finrod taking the front passenger seat. Ercassë drove away, now heading toward Edhellond.

“According to the message Farrell left for Alex, he has until noon to get to the tarn or Felicity Cohen dies,” Glorfindel said by way of greeting even as he was pulling back out of the lot and heading for the highway that would lead to the Mt. Horace Holiday Resort.

“It is nearly ten,” Finrod said, glancing at the clock on the dashboard. “Will we make it?”

“The Valar only know,” Glorfindel muttered. “And Winterdark Tarn. How did Farrell know?”

To that no one had an answer and they settled into silence as Glorfindel made his way north. Somewhere up ahead were two Men whose destinies were about to collide and Eru only knew who would be left standing in the end.





<< Back

Next >>

Leave Review
Home     Search     Chapter List