The Chrisom Child: Continued

[Rowenna]

Morgan felt the tenseness in the air as he backed from the doorway, seemingly giving room for the elf to back away from the man and the child. Perhaps the human had made his err in the past, would again in the present and future, but for the time, he understood the gravity when a man threatened the life of a child. He backed, feet mashing against the mud on the outside... but he did not back out of fear or hesitation, retreat or surrender.

A man like Morgan did not stray even in times like these.

As long as the two, the elf and the murderer, stared face-to-face, Lockheed was sure the man would not hesitate to murder the child, and then the elf would not hesitate to murder the man. A universe of blood on their doorstep... but there was a third option, and it didn't come from attacking head on. It didn't come the same way Morgan had leapt out against the elf in an unjust fury, it didn't come from dueling in the rain.

It came from the back door.

Grohn had made a mistake when he left his back open against a port, and might've well learned fast enough as Morgan burst in again, wrapping his forearm around the murderer's neck from behind, swiping the knife away by the floorboards with his other arm.

"There--will--be--no--death--in--this--house!" Morgan bellowed as he kicked at Grohn's heel, forcing his back against the door. If he would run, then he would run. If he would fight, then they would fight. But if he could help if, if he had any say at all, there would be no blood in his father's house, and no stain on their door sill.

[gluey]

Grohn held the child tightly now against his chest. He now had his opening: to run. But on the other hand was a far more satisfying option...he could murder the elf, and maybe the other two men, if he could only set the child down.

His mind was at an impass. He could chicken out and wait for another chance, or he could take this one. Killing the elf would be simple. Grohn had a fairly nice aim, and generally was able to hit an opponent at just the right spot in their neck to cause them to fall. It would be easy for him; his knife was in reach, and with a single toss, the elf could die. The temptation was greater than many he'd faced in the past...but he knew he could not expose Grayson to that.

So, his decision was made. After but a few moments of standing in the doorway, he smirked at the others.

"Interested in a game of cat and mouse, elf?" he spat.

And that was when he realized the possibility of a second advantage. Earlier, he was attempting to get out the front door, and he didn't have the same advantage, but now that he was at the back door, that was all changed. The floor was wooden and dry. It would burn easily. And to his convenience, the fireplace was no more than five feet from him. He had just one shot at this...just to outreach his foot and kick the last of the embers to the wooden floor, to set it ablaze....

His luck proved to not fail him. The embers were just barely hot enough to light the floor. With a swift, professional swing of his foot, the house was soon to be burning to the ground. And the hopes were that the elf would go with the ashes, and become a part of the Earth.

"Try not to burn your tail, elf!"

Grohn laughed to himself as he ran away, and yet all the while, he was shielding the child. His feet sank into the mud but he ran with all speed he could. The storm was dying, and he was safe outside.

But even to Grohn, now, malevolence was not malevolence. Everything changed. He had something to take care of - something to look after. A calling, rather than just a waste of a life. What was more was that he had another duty to take care of. It didn't need to be taken care of immediately, but he wanted to do it more than anything else.

He wanted to destroy Rowen Blackhawk. He wanted to tear her apart, limb by limb.

[Rowenna]

Morgan stared, and his jaw hung loose, and his body quaked as his throat let carry some utterance that was not a word, phrase, or concise whatsoever. It was as clear as the thoughts in his head, which had thus far been reduced to putty, and he struggled to understand the act that had just transpired. He stood there... my father... his house... my father’s... fire!

He kicked as his boot seemed to catch and he coughed haggardly as his lungs seemed to fill with smoke, and he struggled amid the flames. He had to get out--no, he had to get his father out. He had to save this house. He had to ensure that nobody died in it, for he had already sworn that there would be no death here, no blood, no sizzling carcass under the high heat of fire. He grasped his father’s frail arm, and rammed forward, shoving out the elf, jolting himself and his father outside onto the cold mud and now-light rain and under the darkened sky. It was still rain, but this would not end the growing hearth behind him.

“What are you doing?!” Morgan grasped the elf’s clothing, yelling into his face. “You go--you go now and get that man, do you hear me, you stupid elf!”

Morgan shoved him back, and retreated to the flames, throwing mud onto fire, some attempt to quell the raging burn. His father, meanwhile, seemed to stay there, muttering soft things under his breath, surely some word to defend his air, for he had not known what that man was. Perhaps, then, a prayer to quell all chaos that day. Who knew... he whatever it was, he wasn’t saying it to anyone else.

[Lerris]

Fire.

Fire was not something that this elf was afraid of, because he had walked through his own flames and came out alive. But Lerris had no time to make his move, as he was shoved outside along with Morgan and his father. Lerris was about to scream out in anger, but was grabbed by the front of his shirt first. “What are you doing? You go, you go now and get that man, do you hear me, you stupid elf!”

Lerris would of punched him in the face had he not gotten off of him so quickly to try and put out the fire. Lerris pushed himself to his feet, not caring about the mud, not caring about the rain. His only thoughts, where on killing Grohn and getting his son back, it almost frightened him when he realized that he wasn’t sure which one was more important.

Mud covered the elf as he charged around the burning structure in the direction of which Grohn had taken off running. He shed off several blades that still hung from him, hoping that he could gain just a little more ground without them. Hoping over a fallen tree, he tossed the last blade to the ground and stopped, studying where Grohn’s footprints had turned in the mud.

North-East, he had made for the mountains in an attempt to lose him. The elf let out what can only be described as a snarl as he took off at a full sprint towards the mountains.

[Rowenna]

The fire only scarcely dimmed. Perhaps it was as consequence to the prevalent rain, perhaps it was because the young man kept on throwing mud onto the burning structure in hopes to kill the fire that had consumed his home. Perhaps it was because much of the wood had turned to carbon and had nothing left to burn. It scared Morgan, it really did. It made him frantic as he looked back to the elf who charged away in pursuit of the madman. Morgan’s muscles tensed with anger, at not just the man, but with everything that had gone that day. Everything. Perhaps it was because of his own stubborn nature, who knew, but he turned his back toward the home that stood under a slowly decaying fire and cried out as the rainfall struck against his face, heat coming along from his back.

“I’m not sorry, elf!” he yelled with all his might as the body of the running man was distorted by falling droplets of water.“Do you hear me--I’m not sorry!”

He breathed, and the fire behind him was almost gone. He didn’t want to turn around. He didn’t want to turn around and see the destruction behind him, if his father’s house was still standing, or reduced to an unlivable carbonized structure. He didn’t want to turn his back on the elf that trespassed on his land and almost had him dead.

I hope you get, him elf... come out okay.

[gluey]

"Stay your anger, Morgan," his father said from behind him. "I knew that he was lying to me. He claimed that his wife had died long before, but yet, he had an infant son. How could that be possible? I let him stay. I knew it was someone else's son. I knew as soon as I saw a second figure in our doorway that it was his son. The ears...the child was half-elf. And I let the man stay. I knew something like this would happen. It is my fault. But in the end, does a destroyed house matter?" The man's son did not turn around, but the father could sense his son becoming infuriated with him.

"No," the old man said with an easy tone, as if to calm Morgan. "What matters is a family who stays together, until the end."

He turned around. The house was mostly burned down. The roof had caved in, only one outer wall was standing, and a few walls inside stood also. No items had survived.

And so the old man stepped into his house. He'd grown up there as a child, and he'd resolved that he would die there. So it would be.

Then, as if to defy his son's statement from earlier, the old man fell to his knees. With his dying breath, he raised his voice to the loudest it had ever been and directed a cry to the heavens.

"Be...strong!"

His voice echoed through the woods for only moments after, and was heard no more. And with his final words, the old man collapsed and perished.

[gluey]

Grohn was aware of his footprints in the mud. He'd have to get out of it as soon as he could to try and lose the elf. The forest was ending, and he was nearing the mountains. Through the thinning woods, he could see the mountains in the distance, their peaks snow-capped, even through Spring. The clouds were breaking apart and the storm was finished. Dawn was nearing, so the sky through the clouds was dim but light, but the sun had not yet creeped over the horizon on his left.

He realized he'd been standing in the same place for too long. He had sunk to his ankles in mud, and he realized he'd need to move faster to outrun the elf. Fortunately, it looked like the forest was hit the hardest. Once he was out, the ground was much more solid. He'd still leave a trail...but it would be easier to run without slipping.

He held Grayson close, and he darted in the direction of the mountains. Soon after, the sun began to show it's crown over the edge of the landscape that he could see. The world was lit by it, and he instantly felt it's warmth. After the rain, it felt good. But he knew it would not be a warm day.

He covered a very long distance when he stopped. He had reached the Old South Road just before the mountains. Grayson was against his stomach, but the child was wailing. Grohn realized then that he hadn't been fed in over a day.

Grohn reached in his pocket. He recalled what the man had said about Grayson being to young to eat anything. He tried to comfort Grayson as he brought out a small piece of bread. He didn't need any. He'd give it all to Grayson. He didn't know how to, though, since the infant couldn't chew....

He soon learned how he would feed Grayson. He saw a robin about twenty feet away from him. It was digging for worms. It then flew to a nearby tree and fed it's young. Grohn would have to resort to that - it was the only option.

He broke off an even smaller piece of bread. He put it in his mouth, chewed it up, and gave it to Grayson. The infant, though reluctant swallowed it. He didn't enjoy it, Grohn knew, but at least it was food. He did this with a few more pieces of bread and let the child swallow it down. "That'll have to do for now," Grohn said. Grayson knew what he meant, and fell asleep.

Grohn began to run again. He was tired, but he knew better than to worry about that. If you think about being tired, you'll be even more tired. Instead, he thought of Grayson, and fantasized about the life they could have together. He did not think about Rowen and what he wanted to do to her: he knew that he would only become upset in realization that she was the child's mother.

The ground was solid now since day had come. He had no view of the forest behind him, nor of Lerris approaching. He was now at the foot of the mountains. Their height seem to warn of something to come, but Grohn did not think of what it might be. He merely began to climb.

[Lerris]

It wasn’t quite as easy tracking Grohn through the mountains, as there were little footprints and no twigs to be broken by quick feet. The elf had to rely on what tracks he could find in the hard ground, and maybe just a little bit of luck.

Although with all these things working against him, with his feet screaming at him to stop running, he never even once obliged them. He pushed forward, thinking of nothing but Grohn’s blood on one hand, and his son in his other. He came to an abrupt halt at the foot of the mountains where the tracks stopped. He glanced all around, first thinking that Grohn would try and hide, when he noticed nothing he scratched at his beard.

Small rocks pelted his shoulder, and as he dusted them off he happened to glance up and see Grohn climbing, clinging the child to his chest. He didn’t even think about his aching feet, he didn’t even think about the thought of falling. He took a deep breath; he seemed to not do much thinking since all of this started. With a grunt he started up towards the man who had his child, he would toss him off this cliff before the day was at an end, and wither he went with him over the edge or not, seemed to no longer matter.

[gluey]

The slope of the mountain was steep...too steep to walk up, but just enough so that one could plaster their weight to the wall of the mountain and prevent from falling. The nooks and crannies that he used seemed to be there specifically for climbing. He wondered if in past years goblins or dwarves had climbed these very same walls to their caves up above.

He didn't think about the child, he didn't look down at the height he was at. He simply continued climbing.

The air was thinning with every time that he lifted himself higher on the mountain. He soon found a small ledge which he could lay on. He was having trouble climbing and holding the child at the same time. So he removed his cloak and made it into a harness for Grayson. He looked down and nearly slipped off the ledge, seeing how high he was. He could see everything from there, though...for miles. He even swore that to his right, he could see the ocean.

And without thinking about it, he looked down again. He saw the forest in the distance. He thought of the old man and his son, whether they'd made it out of the the fire safely.

He heard Grayson whimper and he instantly felt bad for all that he had done in his life - the murders, the thievery, the fire that he'd set mere hours ago. He'd killed his parents - now he realized why they'd had that look in their eyes that night...that look of, "How could you?" He'd forgotten about his sword, even...it hung at his side, even now, seeming ever faithful. It was stained with the blood of the many he'd murdered, even that night when he met Rowen....

He'd never felt any remorse for what he'd done. And now he did. He took the child out of the harness and rested him on his lap. That innocent little creature...just waking up, now, still hungry, Grohn was sure, but of which he could do almost nothing on this little ledge.

He looked down again and noticed something moving. He cursed to himself silently.

It was the elf.

His hands felt the ledge for any sizable stone. He found one and picked it up, then dropped it down at the elf. It missed. He kept looking for stones that were big enough to hurt him and he let them fall to the elf. He wasn't watching if they were hitting the elf, though, because when he went to look, he noticed something strange.

Grayson had picked up the tiniest stone, and he threw it down.

The infant turned to Grohn and giggled. Grohn, however, was not laughing. He looked into the baby's eyes and saw them blue: they were less pale than his own, but they reminded him of his eyes so much. And he saw his reflection in the infant's pupils.

He knew he had to keep moving. He would not let the child begin it's life the same way he had.

So he began climbing again.

[Lerris]

Lerris didn’t notice the rocks tumbling from overhead, he didn’t notice the height at which he was climbing. He never noticed the cuts on his hands from the sharp rock, the only thing the elf had his mind on was revenge.

Grohn was to die, there no longer was a question, it was as simple as when and how. As for the when, Lerris chose the now, and he wanted Grohn’s blood on his hands. The human kept climbing, and Lerris followed as fast as he could bring himself to.

He found himself on an short ridge, where he could place both feet and watch Grohn continue up the mountain. They would reach the top, and that is where Lerris would make his move. Let the fool make his way all the way up the mountain and tire himself out, Lerris would climb slow and with purpose.

Because at the top there was nowhere to run, because at the top Lerris would finally see this to the end. He placed one hand on the wall, and continued up slowly, keeping his breath and watching. There was a way to kill him, this man was not invincible, he is just a common killer. But not today, today, Lerris intended to be the killer, and for him to be the killed.

[gluey]

Grohn was moving as fast as he could, though his pace was dwindling due to the increasing steepness of the mountain. The child lay uncomfortably in the harness fashioned from Grohn's cloak. The infant whimpered softly as Grohn climbed and climbed, doing what he could to escape the elf.

He came up suddenly on a cave dug into the mountainside, perhaps tunnels used by the goblins or dwarves who used to live in this mountain. Holding the child in the harness with one hand, and groping the walls with his free hand to find his way, he stumbled several times, but the child was secure in the harness, so the darkness didn't matter.

After groping through the darkness for a short while, there was light at the end of the cave. He followed it, no longer stumbling, and finally reached the end of the path. He found himself standing on a fairly large plateau carved into the mountain. Remains of buildings were all around, the bases of them barely in tact. Grohn drifted to the edge of the plateau, now holding the child in the harness with both arms. He glanced over the edge, and saw a drop sure to kill any. The cliff dropped several hundred feet, to a rocky, painful, sure-fire death. Even from this height, he could see the sharpness of the rocks below.

"Grohn."

Grohn nearly lost his balance. Had the elf caught up with him already?

After regaining his stance firmly, he drew his sword as swiftly as possible, and wheeled around, ready to do battle with the elf.

But Lerris was not to be found.

Grohn glanced around, and then shouted, "You can come out of hiding, elf. Come out or I'll throw the child over the edge!" The bluff may not have worked before but he figured he should try it to coax the elf out.

However, no one stepped into the light.

"Come out, I won't bite! No guarantees on the part of my sword, though...."

"You won't be needing that," came the same voice as before, from his right. Grohn turned, and then saw that which caused him to fall flat on his back.

His father.

And beside him, his mother. And behind her, the dwarves he killed back in Erebor. Next to them was every single face of those he had mercilessly murdered the night he met Rowen. And then every other person he had ever led to their end began to appear all around him as he climbed to his feet slowly. The man who'd helped him escape from the brig on the boat where he met Rowen the second time. Lycan Fletcher, who helped him find Rowen. The old man from the house in the woods. A couple of Gondorian soldiers. Two peasants of Rohan. Dwarves. Men of the Long Lake. Thorngam, the man from whom he'd stolen his ring. And the child he'd killed afterwards. All around him. There seemed to be innumerable faces, all standing on that plateau.

"No...." he whispered.

"Son," his father began.

"No. NO!" he exclaimed. "It's not possible! It's not possible!"

"Why did you do it, son? What gave you the right?" his father asked.

"You're not real! None of you are real!" Grohn screamed.

"What gave you the right?" his father exclaimed in reply. Then the dwarves of Erebor joined.

"What gave you the right? Our son, Theredor...is alone now."

"What gave you the right to take our lives?" asked the old man from the woods.

"Why did you kill me?" asked the child he'd killed.

"I didn't! I didn't do it!" Grohn shrieked, falling to his knees.

Then they hushed. And his mother quietly whispered, "My child...why would you do this to so many people?"

"Because they crossed me!" Grohn screamed. "It's their faults! They shouldn't have been where I was! It's their faults! Not mine!"

"YOU DIDN'T HAVE THE RIGHT!" screamed his father. All the others joined in with him at shouting at Grohn.

The pitiful man covered his ears. The screams were overwhelming....

And finally, from his eyes, the paleness washed away. The tears came free-flowing down his cheeks now. They splashed down upon Grayson. Grohn couldn't take anymore of this.

Fortunately, a voice came from his left now, and pulled him from his hallucinations.

Unfortunately, it was the elf.

[Lerris]

One bruised and bloodied hand pulled the elf into a small cave that was set into the mountain side, he had caught his hand in one of the cracks below and had to force it out. There was no pain, just numbness. He shouted, nothing intelligible, just shouted. Lerris wasn’t sure what he was shouting at.

But it felt good, and right, so he did. Nothing answered him back, just the howl of the wind. He dusted himself, and looked up towards the summit. Had that bastard kept climbing? Was he still on his way to the top? Or would he take an easier route, through the mountain-side?

Suddenly, from the darkness of the tunnel Lerris heard a shriek, he could not understand the words but he knew they were from Grohn. He wasted no time and pressed forward, following the shouting until it became clear.

“It's their faults! Not mine!" Cried the pitiful killer who sat on his knees. He had his ears covered, and although Lerris could of taken him by surprise, he spoke. He wanted this man to face him, to watch as Lerris took his life.

He would strangle him if he had to…

“After all that has happened…still you live. You have taken my newborn son, and you will not harm him. Not ever again, because this time I assure you, I will not throw you from a boat and think I will never see you again.” The elf readied himself for a fight he knew was about to begin.

“Stand to your feet killer, so we may end this….so I may end you.”

[gluey]

"Stand to your feet, killer..."

Grohn put his hand to the cold stone of the mountainside and attempted to push himself up. Perhaps it was because he didn't want to stand, or perhaps because his hallucinations had taken all of his strength, but Grohn could not stand. He tried again, and fell to his face.

"Please..." Grohn sobbed, now crawling to the heel of the elf. "Please...don't kill me...I know that I deserve death more than any other in this world, just please...I never meant to hurt anyone."

Is that true? he wondered silently. Had he really changed?

Grohn gazed up into the elf's eyes, and begged further.

"Please...forgive me for all I have done...I cannot hurt you...not now...I am broken...I am nothing...do you understand? I am broken...I am nothing, I am worthless...I am broken!" he cried into the night, as he cried ever harder. "Broken...." he whispered, clutching to the elf's leg.

The killer was at the feet and mercy of the elf. If the elf chose to fight, Grohn would have to fight.

Grohn somehow had an inkling that suspicion the elf would not let him walk.

[Lerris]

The elf looked back up, his eyes again filled with malice, his heart again filled with hate. “Even death is too good for you murderer, I want you to suffer for what you have done.” With that the elf thingyed his leg back and kicked the man in the jaw with the heel of his boot.

Grohn fell backwards, and Lerris finally saw something that stopped him in his tracks. His son sat inside a small harness, tied to the killer. He had not killed his son, this insane man had stolen him from his crib, his brother, his mother…

Lerris ran to take his son from the harness, Grohn still reeling from the kick to his jaw. Lerris took his son, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, the elf smiled in true happiness. He hugged his son tight, so overjoyed that all of his fears had not come true.

The elf turned from the killer, and smiled down upon his son. “Grayson…” The elf whispered as he kissed his son atop the head. It all seemed right again, as if the elf forgot about the killer, and found his mind only focused on his son.

[gluey]

As the elf rejoiced to have his son back, Grohn had fallen to the ground, sobbing. The elf hardly took notice, though, and as Grohn did so, a million thoughts rushed through his head.

He wanted to strike the elf, to kill him now, and take Grayson and raise him as his own son. But he couldn't. He couldn't defeat those demons in his head. His father stood beside him now; he could feel it.

But his father couldn't stand beside his wretched body, his father was dead. He killed him. He killed before and he could do it again. It didn't matter to him anymore. He stood up, and looked his father straight in the eye. The hallucination vanished instantaneously, and Grohn felt freed. He drew his dagger, and began towards the elf.

He raised his arm, aiming right for the neck. But when he was just inches away, something prevented him from striking. But he couldn't stop his momentum now; he had been running toward the elf. So what had been planned as a murderous attack, turned into a full body tackle.

Lerris was caught off-balance, and he fell down, Grohn on top of him. Together they rolled up to the edge, and somehow Grohn managed to let go, just before the elf slowly went over the edge.