Chapter 28      Plots

Aragorn did well at hiding his apprehension as he and Gimli crossed the courtyard and moved toward the Thieves Guild.  The building was the largest he had seen yet in the city.  Made of stone and rising at least four stories high, the structure supported several carved stone statues depicting various beasts that appeared as if they had crawled from some child’s nightmares.  The statues glowered down at all those daring to pass through the courtyard, their ugly and misshapen forms creating an air of foreboding that settled darkly around the large structure.  Two guards stood sentry before the massive doors leading into the building, their clothes colorful and rich in appearance, their faces completely void of any expression as they watched Gimli and Aragorn approach.

“They do not look as if they are eager to let us in,” Gimli whispered softly from beside Aragorn.  “What if they do not grant us entrance?”

“They will,” Aragorn murmured.

“And if they don’t?” Gimli insisted.

“Then we will find another way,” Aragorn answered softly, his voice filled with determination.

They were drawing within earshot of the two guards now, and Aragorn motioned Gimli to remain silent.  They had already agreed that he would do all the talking, and that Gimli’s main role was to offer support while simultaneously watching Aragorn’s back.  They both knew, however, that if a situation requiring battle did happen to arise, they were not likely to leave the building alive.  Still, they would not go down easily.

Aragorn and Gimli were still several paces away from the doors when one of the guards stepped forward and ordered them to halt.  They immediately complied, their hands held carefully away from their weapons in a sign they meant no threat.

“What is it you want?” the guard who had ordered their halt asked in a bored voice, his hand casually laying across the hilt of the sword belted about his waist.

“I seek an audience with your master,” Aragorn replied calmly, bowing his head slightly in a show of respect.  He had learned from one of the servants back at the Sleeping Dragon that all of the members of the Thieves Guild were extremely prideful, and that their master, Thorbis, was worse than all of his men combined.  He had also learned that Thorbis was an extremely suspicious man when it came to the other Guildmasters.  His position of strength within the city made him a target for the jealous ambition of those less fortunate than himself, and he constantly had to protect his guild—and himself—from the attacks of those seeking to rob him of his power.  Aragorn hoped to use this fact to his advantage.

The guard showed no response to Aragorn’s request.  Without taking his gaze from either of them, he made a small motion to the other guard, who promptly turned and entered the building.  Only a few minutes passed before he returned, this time with a tall, lavishly dressed man beside him.  The man strode down the steps and moved to stand before Aragorn and Gimli, a deep scowl on his face.

“Why do you wish to see Master Thorbis,” he demanded in a haughty voice, his gaze moving back and forth between Gimli and Aragorn.

“I have a message for him,” Aragorn answered simply.

“Give me this message and I will have it delivered to him,” the man demanded, holding out his hand.

Aragorn shook his head.  “I am afraid the message I bear is for the ears of your master alone,” he replied, trying to make his voice sound respectfully apologetic.

The man’s scowl grew even darker.  “Master Thorbis does not grant audience to every beggar that comes knocking at his door.  I will not have him disturbed.”

Aragorn nodded.  “I assure you, sir, that your Master will wish to see me.  My message is of the utmost importance.  I believe your Guildmaster’s life may be in terrible danger.”

The man didn’t even so much as twitch an eyebrow at this statement, though he did take a step closer to Aragorn in an obvious attempt to intimidate.  Aragorn met his stare without any hint of fear, and the richly dressed man was the first to look away.  “Who are you?” he demanded in an angry voice, his question directed more toward Aragorn’s chest than his face.

“I am Strider, a ranger from the North, and this is my companion, Master Gimli.

The man gave Aragorn a curt nod before turning back toward the doors.  “I will tell him you are here, yet I doubt he will agree to see you,” he announced as he disappeared back into the building.

Aragorn exchanged a glance with Gimli.  If Thorbis did refuse to meet with them, then Aragorn would have to find some way to force the Guildmaster to change his mind.  The hardest part would be finding a way that wouldn’t get both his and Gimli’s head lobbed off in the process.  Both of the guards had returned to their positions beside the doors, but their eyes remained fixed on Gimli and Aragorn with only the slightest hint of interest in their hard gazes.

Several long minutes dragged by, and Aragorn was just beginning to despair of ever being granted entrance, when the lavishly dressed man reappeared at the doors.  “You have managed to attract my Master’s curiosity,” he announced piously.  “He is eager to learn what might bring two foreigners to his doorstep with a message for him.”

“Then he has agreed to see us?” Aragorn asked.

The man gave a curt nod.  “You will leave your weapons here,” he ordered, motioning to the two guards who immediately stepped toward Aragorn and Gimli with the obvious intent of relieving them of their weapons.  “The men will return them to you if you return.”

Aragorn did not miss the fact that the man had used the word if instead of when.  He slowly unbuckled Anduril from his side and handed it to one of the guards.  Gimli followed suit, if a bit more reluctantly.  Once their weapons had been handed over, the richly dressed man turned back to the doors, motioning Aragorn and Gimli to follow him inside.

The interior of the building turned out to be much more impressive than the exterior.  Wide hallways were richly adorned with thick, expensive rugs in a myriad of colors.  Exquisite vases etched with detailed designs stood on intricately carved stands in numerous places along the hall.  Bright tapestries hung from the walls with scenes ranging from a nude woman bathing under a waterfall to two men fighting on a dusty street.  The evidence of great wealth was displayed everywhere they looked.

They were led down several different hallways, then up a wide set of stairs and into yet another hallway that appeared even more richly adorned then those on the floor below.  The lavishly dressed man led them to a wide, iron bound door guarded on either side by two men.  He knocked on the door, waited for the call to enter, then ushered Gimli and Aragorn inside.

The room they entered was immense, with over a dozen bright lamps hanging from hooks on the walls.  Layer upon layer of thick, soft rugs woven in bright, colorful designs, muted their footsteps.   Heavy bronze statues of all sizes and shapes stood on small white pedestals against all four walls of the room.  In the center of the room stood a massive table decorated with even more of the bronze statures.  A large chair was positioned behind the table, and it was in this chair that Thorbis, Guildmaster of thieves, sat.  The man was about the same height and weight as Aragorn, with thinning black hair, a high sloping forehead, and a hawk like nose.  His full attention was currently fixed on a small statue he held in his right hand, and he didn’t even look up as they entered the room.

The richly dressed man hurried forward and bent to whisper in his Master’s ear.  Thorbis merely nodded to whatever the man was saying, and continued to study the statue in his hand.  He still had not looked at Gimli and Aragorn.

Aragorn suspected Thorbis was deliberately forcing them to wait in order to unnerve them.  He squared his feet, clasped his hands behind his back, then calmly waited for the Guildmaster to acknowledge his presence.  He was pleased to see Gimli doing the same, though the dwarf looked far from pleased.

Several long minutes passed before Thorbis at last carefully placed the statue on the table, then lifted his head to study his guests.  His face was the picture of boredom, though Aragorn did notice a small spark of interest light up his eyes as his gaze fell on Gimli.  Thorbis continued to study them silently for several moments, then he turned to the lavishly dressed man still standing at his side.

“Tell me, Harum,” he asked in a soft, silky voice, “Do these two look familiar to you?”

“Yes, Master,” Harum answered, “they were both at the games last night.”

Thorbis arched an eyebrow then turned back to studying Aragorn and Gimli, “Ah yes,” he finally murmured, a small smile twisting the corners of his lips.  “You took part in the pit fights last night.”  His gaze was fixed on Aragorn now.  “As I recall, you lost your particular fight.”

Aragorn did not react at all to the slight mocking he detected in Thorbis’ voice.  “Yes, my lord, I did,” he answered simply.  Thorbis was no lord, but Aragorn was not above stroking the man’s pride a bit in order to get what he wanted.  Thorbis’ grin grew wider, though Aragorn was unsure whether it was due to his answer to the man’s statement, or because he had called him a lord.

“Harum here has told me that you bear a message.  A ranger from the North, and a dwarf.  I must say I am intrigued.” 

“It is more a warning than a message,” Aragorn answered simply, his gaze pointedly fixed on Harum.

“You wish my aide to leave,” Thorbis observed.  “Yet how will I know that once I dismiss him you will not attack me?”

Aragorn shook his head.  “There is nothing we would gain from attacking you, sir.  Besides, both my companion and I are unarmed, and I suspect we would not get two steps in your direction before your guards would be upon us.”

Thorbis smirked.  “What you say is true,” he admitted arrogantly.  “Yet even if you should somehow manage to reach me, I am an excellent swordsman, and would cut you both to pieces.”

“I have no doubt that you would,” Aragorn answered with a bow, forcing a mixture of respect and fear into his voice.  Inwardly, however, he was scoffing at the arrogant man.  One look at the jeweled hilt of the sword around Thorbis’ waist revealed that the piece was meant for show, and not as a real weapon.  Aragorn doubted Thorbis even knew how to hold the blade properly.

Thorbis nodded, obviously believing Aragorn properly cowed.  He turned to his aide then and dismissed the man.  “Wait outside the door, and I shall call you if I have need,” he commanded.

Harum looked far from happy, but he obeyed his master without argument.  As soon as the doors had shut behind him, Thorbis turned his complete attention on Aragorn.  “Tell me of this warning you have for me, and be quick about it, for I have much to do,” he ordered, his voice practically dripping with disinterest.

Aragorn was not fooled.  He knew Thorbis was curious.  “I have come to warn you of a plot against your life,” he informed Thorbis gravely, hardly wincing at all at the blatant lie.  He was determined to save Legolas, and if that meant telling a thousand lies, then he would do just that.

Thorbis waved a jeweled hand in the air.  “When you become a man of my position, everyone plots against you,” he informed Aragorn with indifference.  “I have ceased to worry about it.  No one can break through my security.”

“Even if the man plotting against you were a fellow Guildmaster,” Aragorn asked simply.

A flicker of interest passed over Thorbis’ features, then just as quickly was gone.  “The other guilds are envious of my position,” he stated boldly, “They are constantly seeking to find a way to overthrow me.  Yet my guild is too powerful.  We will crush anyone who dares to attack us!”

Aragorn quickly nodded.  “I am sure your guild is more than strong enough to defend itself.  However, the man who plots against you does not intend to attack your guild, but instead, he will merely attack you.  He has already hired an assassin to complete this task,” he hurried on when Thorbis looked doubtful.  “A man by the name of Tervanis…”

Aragorn was cut short when Thorbis leapt from his chair.  “Did you say Tervanis?” he asked in a strained whisper.  “The name of the assassin hired to kill me is Tervanis?”

Aragorn nodded, startled by the man’s violent reaction.  From Delran’s description of the assassin, Aragorn had suspected Tervanis would be well known within the city.  What he had not expected was the raw fear he saw in Thorbis’ eyes.  It seemed that the mere name of the assassin, combined with the possibility he might be after him, terrified Thorbis.

“Tell me his name.” Thorbis demanded, his jaw clenched in fury, but the fear still more than evident in the slight quiver to his voice.

“I have told you,” Aragorn began, “His name is Tervanis…”

“No!” Thorbis hissed.  “I know the assassin.  Tell me the name of the man who plots against me.”

Aragorn shrugged.  “His name is Servius,” he answered simply.

Thorbis swore, picked up one of the bronze statues on his desk, and hurled the object violently against the wall.  “He would not dare!” he bellowed angrily.

The door to the room swung open, and Harum and the guards rushed in, swords drawn.  They had barely stepped into the room, however, when Thorbis turned on them and screamed, “Get out!  Now!”  The guards immediately turned and fled, but Harum hesitated. 

“Is all well, Master?” he asked.

Thorbis glowered at him, and seemed about to order the man out a second time.  Then he hesitated, his gaze turning to where Aragorn and Gimli stood, his eyes narrowing.  “Come here, Harum,” he ordered, never taking his gaze of Aragorn.

Harum hurried to his master’s side, casting Gimli and Aragorn a triumphant look.  Thorbis leaned down and began talking to his aide in a hushed whisper, his voice too low for Aragorn to make out what he was saying.  The discussion lasted for several minutes, and Thorbis did not appear to be at all pleased with the topic.  At last he dismissed Harum once more, then turned back to Aragorn and Gimli.

“My aide has confirmed your story,” he said darkly.  “He tells me that Tervanis has been seen in the presence of Servius several times within the last week.  No doubt they have been planning my execution for some time now.”  Thorbis turned his back on them and walked over to the wall, bending to retrieve the small statue.  “Only Servius would be fool enough to plot against me,” he hissed, turning the statue over and over in his hands in search of damage.  “I have always known him to be hungry for more power, yet I never thought he would become so daring.  I will make him regret his boldness.  No one plots against me, no one!”  He seemed to have forgotten that just moments before he had informed Aragorn he was aware that everyone was plotting against him.

Since Thorbis’ back was turned to him, Aragorn did not try to hide his smile.  Thorbis was in a rage, and Aragorn could not have been more pleased.  The Guildmaster had accepted his story as the truth, never once questioning how Aragorn, a foreigner, might have come by this information.  Thorbis’ wariness of the other Guildmasters had given Aragorn the advantage.  It had turned out to be almost absurdly easy convincing Thorbis that Servius wished to kill him.  It seemed that the name of the assassin had truly frightened and worried Thorbis, an added bonus which Aragorn had not been expecting.  Thorbis would likely be willing to do almost anything to ensure his safety against the assassin, and it was this fact that Aragorn hoped to use to his advantage.

Thorbis continued to rage on against Servius and his guild, and it seemed that he had completely forgotten the presence of Gimli and Aragorn.  Man and dwarf exchanged a glance, then Aragorn surreptitiously cleared his throat in an attempt to gain Thorbis’ attention.  When the Guildmaster showed no sign he had heard him, Aragorn cleared his throat a second time, this time louder.  Still Thorbis continued to ignore his two guests, completely caught up in his plans of revenge.  Aragorn was about to give it a third try, when Gimli decided it was time to take matters into his own hand.  His cleared throat sounded more like a bullhorn, and was strong enough to stir some of the tapestries on the wall.  Aragorn winced, but Gimli’s method turned out to be effective, for Thorbis ended his raging and turned to give the two companions his full attention.  

“Ah yes,” he muttered, “I suppose you two will be wishing a reward for bringing me this information.  Name the amount you require, and I will see that Harum gives it to you.”  He began to turn away from them once more.

“It is not money that we desire,” Aragorn said quickly, raising his hand to regain Thorbis’ attention.

Thorbis arched an eyebrow.  “You do not wish for money?” he asked, obviously startled by that possibility.  “Then what could you possibly want.  You cannot expect me to believe that you gave me this information with no hope of anything in return.”

“We do indeed wish for something in return,” Aragorn said softly, “Yet it is not your gold.  Instead, we wish for your assistance in a more personal matter.”

Thorbis looked intrigued.  He walked back to the table, set down the statue, then seated himself in the large chair facing Aragorn and Gimli.  “Continue,” he ordered simply.

Aragorn took a step forward.  “You and I share a common enemy, Guildmaster.  Servius seeks to kill you and steal your position of power, yet you are not the only one he has attacked.  He has stolen something of great importance from me, and I greatly desire to get it back.  I was hoping that perhaps we can ally ourselves together and work to right the wrongs done against us by this man.”

Thorbis clasped his hands together in front of his face and regarded Aragorn with a curious expression.  “What is it that Servius has stolen from you?” he finally asked.

Aragorn hesitated for only a moment before telling the Guildmaster.  He supposed that a little bit of truth would make his lies all the more believable.  “He has taken a companion of mine.  A very dear friend who I hope to rescue before it is too late.”

Thorbis nodded.  “And why was this friend taken from you?” he asked.

Aragorn knew Thorbis was fishing for more information before he decided whether or not to offer his aid.  Aragorn thought it was the first wise move Thorbis had made yet.  “He took my companion in order to get to me,” he answered simply.  “He seeks revenge for some misdeed against him.  I have no doubt he intends to kill my friend in order to punish me,” he hurried on, hoping Thorbis would not ask him what misdeed he was referring to.  Aragorn did not want to have to admit he did not know.

Thorbis looked at him for a very long time, his gaze calculating.  “So you wish me to aid in freeing your friend?” he asked quietly.

Aragorn nodded.  “I thought we could work together as we both have reason to see Servius’ downfall.  Gimli and I cannot free my friend on our own.  Servius has the inn we are staying at closely watched, and even should we manage to slip past the guards as we did in order to come here, we could not attack Servius guild.  He would kill Legolas before we could ever hope to reach him.”

Thorbis let out a small sigh, then sank back in his chair.  “I cannot attack Servius’ guild,” he announced bitterly, “At least, not until I have found some  way to prove that he plots against me.  If I were to attack him before then, the other guilds would think I was merely attempting to strengthen the power and influence of my own guild.  They would fear that I have become too powerful, and they would unite against me.”

“It seems Servius has placed you in a dangerous position,” Aragorn said softly.  “If you move against him, you are in danger of being overthrown by the other guilds, and yet if you wait, it will give time for his assassin to do his duty.  From what I have heard of this Tervanis, he does not strike me as a man who fails in his assigned tasks.”

Thorbis’ face darkened.  “Indeed you speak the truth,” he muttered angrily.

“All the more reason why we should join together,” Aragorn said firmly.  “The only way you will be free of the assassin’s threat is if Servius is destroyed.  Once he is dead, Tervanis will have no reason to come after you.”

Thorbis shook his head.  “I have already told you, I cannot attack Servius’ guild until I have proof of his plot against me to give to the other Guildmasters.”

Aragorn smiled.  “You cannot,” he said slowly, “But Gimli and I can.  We would need your men’s help in getting past the guards at the inn, and perhaps those stationed around the guild, yet none of them would have to set foot within the guild itself.  Gimli and I will go in alone, so no blame can be placed upon you when Servius is defeated.  If your men are careful, the other Guildmasters might never even know you were involved.”

Thorbis looked incredulous.  “You believe that you and the dwarf alone can defeat Servius.  He is likely to have many guards within his guild.”

Aragorn shrugged.  “Gimli and I are no strangers to battle,” he said firmly.  “We would defeat them.”

Thorbis continued to shake his head.  “And what if you should run into Tervanis?”

“We would deal with him as well,” Aragorn answered calmly, not even a hint of a boast in his voice.

Thorbis regarded Aragorn with narrowed eyes for several long seconds.  “And what should happen if you fail?” he asked slowly.

“Then you will have lost nothing,” Aragorn responded lightly.  “You will be no worse off than you are now.  Yet if we should succeed, then you will have gained everything.  The threat to your life would be gone, and since Servius’ land borders yours to the east, I am sure you will have no trouble gaining at least part of his guild-land as your own.”

Thorbis nodded slowly, his hands still clasped in front of his face.  Aragorn could tell the Guildmaster liked the idea, no matter how hard he tried to hide the fact.  Thorbis would be taking a minimum risk, with the chance of gaining maximum profit.  Aragorn was certain he would agree. 

Thorbis turned to regard Gimli.  “You have said nothing since entering,” he commented softly.  “What have you to say of all of this?”

Gimli shrugged, then stepped forward to stand beside Aragorn.  “My companion’s thoughts are my own,” he stated simply.  “He speaks for us both.”

Thorbis nodded, then suddenly broke out into a wide grin.  “I think I shall agree to this arrangement, though I do have some doubts as to your ability to defeat Servius’ guild all on your own.  Still, you both look like fit warriors, and perhaps you will surprise me.” 

“Then it is agreed,” Aragorn asked.

Thorbis cocked his head to one side, his smile growing even larger.  “I do believe you two have gotten the worst end of this deal, and yet it matters not.  It is agreed.  How soon do you wish to act?”

“Tonight,” Aragorn and Gimli said together.  “Before midnight,” Aragorn added with a glance down at the dwarf.

Thorbis shook his head, his smile still in place.  “Tonight it will be, then,” he agreed, “Though not before midnight.  I will not have time to assemble all my men and instruct them properly before then.  I think you should choose to strike closer to dawn.  It is then that our adversaries are more likely to be drowsy and drunk.  You will stand a better chance of success then.”

Aragorn was already shaking his head.  “It must be before midnight,” he insisted.

“That is not possible,” Thorbis replied simply.  “I will not rush my men.  They are more likely to make mistakes if they are not completely prepared, and any mistakes they make can prove deadly to me.”

Aragorn and Gimli exchanged looks, then Aragorn took another step closer to Thorbis.  “Then I am afraid I have another request I must make of you,” he announced quietly.  “I am sure you will have no qualms about granting my request as you have already said you believe Gimli and I have the worst end of this deal.”

Thorbis’ shrugged, the smile never leaving his face.  “The thought of Servius’ death has put me in a most pleasant mood.  Ask what it is you want, and if it is within my power I will grant it to you.”

Aragorn nodded.  “The reason Gimli and I wish to attack before midnight is because Servius intends to kill Legolas at that time.  If we cannot act before then, then our friend will surely be dead.  There is only one thing that will buy us some more time.”

“And what is this thing?” Thorbis asked pleasantly.

“Your medallion,” Aragorn answered simply.  “Servius desires your medallion, and I am certain I can use it to persuade him to allow Legolas to live.”  Aragorn did not admit that Servius had in fact sent both he and Gimli after the medallion lest Thorbis come to suspect that everything Aragorn had said was nothing but a ruse.  “I am sure you know of the piece I speak.  It is crescent shaped, with many jewels inlaid around its arc.”

Thorbis was no longer smiling.  He straightened up in his chair, all pretenses at pleasantness completely gone.  “You want my medallion?” he demanded in a hard voice.

Aragorn merely nodded.  “Without the medallion, Legolas will surely be killed, and then Gimli and I will have no reason to attack Servius’ guild.  Do you understand?”

Thorbis shook his head, then leapt to his feet.  “The medallion is precious to me,” he grated out, “It was the first piece I ever stole as a young thief, and it has brought me great luck over all these years!  I will not part with it!”
Aragorn sighed.  “I understand your reluctance,” he said quietly, “Yet what if I were to assure you that the medallion would be returned to you just as soon as Servius is defeated?”

Thorbis shook his head. “There is no assurance that Servius will be defeated,” he argued.

“He will be,” Aragorn said firmly, his gaze locked with Thorbis’. 

Thorbis slowly sat back down in his chair.  “I will not give you the medallion,” he stated resolutely. 

Aragorn clenched his jaw in frustration.  Things had been going so well up until the point.  He had to find a way to convince Thorbis to part with the medallion. 

“It seems our agreement has been for naught,” Aragorn said slowly.  “I apologize for wasting you time, and I wish you luck in your dealings with the assassin.”

Aragorn turned as if to leave, but Thorbis called out to him.  “If I were to give you the medallion, I would need something of equal value in return.  Something I might keep to ensure the return of the medallion.”

Aragorn turned to face Thorbis, then shrugged helplessly.  “I am afraid I have nothing of value to give you.”

Thorbis shook his head.  “Ahh, but you do.” he said slyly, a slight gleam in his eyes.  “In exchange for the medallion, I would have your word that should you fail to return it to me, you will give your own life in exchange.”

Aragorn raised an eyebrow.  “My life?” he asked softly.

Thorbis nodded gleefully.  “I will give you the medallion, but first you must swear that should it not be returned to me, you will serve me for a period of three years.  Only once you have given me your oath will I give you the medallion.  And should you think to break your pledge and flee from me, I will send my men to hunt you down and kill you.  Will you give me your promise?”

Aragorn felt a horrid sinking feeling within his stomach.  He knew it would be so easy to give his pledge and then take the medallion, and yet something held him back.  Should the medallion be lost, he knew he would be honor bound to hold up to his end of the bargain.  He was more than willing to take such a risk if it meant saving Legolas, yet at the same time he knew he had not the right to make such a promise.  He was King of Gondor, and his life belonged to his people.  In truth, he had already betrayed them by coming after Legolas in the first place, yet his heart had allowed him no other course.  Still, how far could he go?

A part of Aragorn screamed at him to give the oath.  After all, surely the medallion would be recovered and his promise would come to mean nothing.  Yet what if the medallion was not recovered?  He would then be forced to keep his word, and by so doing, he would be abandoning his people.

Aragorn felt as if he were being ripped apart inside.   His life was balanced on a precarious scale.  On one side was Legolas, his dearest friend whom he loved as a brother, and on the other side, his people, whom he had sworn himself to.  Whatever choice he made, he would be betraying one of them.  The friend inside him refused to even consider betraying Legolas, while the King within him knew there was no other choice. 

“He can’t.”

Aragorn was startled by the gruff voice beside him.  He glanced down to find Gimli looking up at him, a strange expression on his rough features.

“He is unwilling to risk his life in order to save his friend?” Thorbis asked.

“He can’t,” Gimli merely repeated, his gaze firmly fixed on Aragorn.

“Gimli…”  Aragorn began, but the dwarf cut him off.

“I understand.  You need not explain it to me.”  The dwarf’s voice, instead of being filled with anger, was instead filled with sympathy and understanding.  “You cannot do it,” he continued, “But that does not mean that I cannot.”

Aragorn’s eyes widened, but before he could say anything, Gimli turned to face Thorbis.  “You have my promise that should we fail to return your medallion, I will serve as your slave for not three years, but five.  You shall not be getting a better offer, and so I suggest you take it!”

Thorbis considered the dwarf’s proposal for only a moment before quickly agreeing.  “Done!” he stated.  “You will keep your promise to me, or you will die.”

Gimli nodded gravely.  “A dwarf always keeps his word,” he said stiffly.

Aragorn stared at Gimli, unsure whether to feel relief or worry.  Gimli merely smiled back grimly as Thorbis opened a hidden drawer beneath the table and withdrew a cloth-covered bundle.

“The medallion,” he said simply, offering the bundle to Aragorn.

Aragorn merely stared at the cloth covered offering, then turned to look at Gimli.  The dwarf gave a brief nod, then stepped forward and took the proffered gift from Thorbis.

“Now,” Thorbis said cheerfully, “Let us discuss the rest of our plans for this night.”

*****

The sun was setting low on the horizon when Gimli and Aragorn finally left the Thieves Guild.  As they crossed the courtyard, the cloth covered medallion clutched close to Gimli’s chest, neither of them knew they were being watched.

Tervanis sat on an overturned barrel near the mouth of an alleyway, his narrowed gaze following the steps of the two companions.  He was sharpening his knife, the low hum of the steel sliding across the whetting stone the only sound in the dank alley.  He had been sitting here waiting for some time now, ever since he had followed the man and dwarf from the Sleeping Dragon to the doorstep of the Thieves Guild.  They had dispatched the three fools following them with practiced ease, yet they had never suspected a fourth set of eyes watched their every move. 

“It seems the elf’s faith in you has not proven false,” Tervanis murmured softly as he watched Aragorn swing the belt containing his sword around his waist.  The king secured the thick strip of leather with a quick grace that spoke of a man well accustomed to the feel and fit of his weapon.  “You made a daring move today.  I am sure Servius would be most displeased should he learn of this.”

Tervanis let out a small laugh as the two disappeared down one of the streets branching off from the courtyard.  He made no move to follow them, for he had already learned what he needed.  He had no idea what had happened inside the Thieves Guild, yet he was almost certain that the man and dwarf had somehow managed to acquire the assistance of Thorbis the black.  Tervanis dearly would have liked to know how they had accomplished that feat, yet he knew it truly did not matter.  The only thing that mattered was that King Elessar was no longer playing the game by Servius’ rules.  This fact absolutely delighted Tervanis.

Tervanis re-sheathed his knife, then rose and began heading back to Servius’ guild.  He had no intention of telling the Guildmaster what he had seen today.  Let Servius find out on his own just how much he had miscalculated his opponents.  Tervanis felt no loyalty to the man.  In truth, he despised Servius with a passion bordering on hatred.  The Guildmaster was nothing but a pathetic weakling.  If it weren’t for the elf, Tervanis would have ended his business with Servius long ago.

Tervanis smiled slightly as his thoughts turned to Legolas.  Fate had brought them together.  The elf was perfect: beautiful, strong, graceful, his very being one of light and nobility.  He was a perfect warrior, invincible and immortal, and Tervanis could not help but feel as if he had been waiting his entire life for Legolas.  He was a man who thrived off of challenges, and the elf would be his ultimate challenge.  He could not even look at Legolas without feeling a deep possessiveness.  The elf was his to conquer, and Tervanis looked forward to the chance with every particle of his being.

He hurried his steps, anxious suddenly to return to the guild.  King Elessar would make his move soon, and Tervanis was determined to be ready when he did.  One way or another, Legolas would be his.

TBC