Within Dreams [A Legolas love story]

Mind Games

I still felt like throwing up, and the horrible twisted feeling in my gut was certainly not helped by this mind manipulation.

He moved towards me once more; I reached to my belt and felt the sunstone that was hidden there. I could do it now, I could reach for it and smite him with the sword of light.

But something held me back. Other Remnants would inherit his dark power, they would grow to be even more terrible. In any order, all must die, and as they do, each one will be stronger than any before him. So spoke Lórien.

There had to be a way to draw them out, from their dark and secret places...

Ah, I had more than one weapon on me.

Falcon coming ever closer, I took the chance to consider my options.

The dagger given to me by Legolas was still in my boot; I would be able to reach it less obviously than Almiraë. If he was injured enough that he called for his men, I would have a better chance
at taking more out at once.

I let him approach me, his chest heaving and eyes wild, like a feral animal.

I reached up and seemed to pull him closer; really what I was doing is feeling for his rib cage. Naturally, he didn't protest.

Right as it seemed he would overtake me, I made a decision.

In one swift motion, I drew the dagger from my boot and thrust it through his back. It cleanly slid between his second and third rib, puncturing the lung beneath.

My heart raced uncomfortably at the gruesome contact.

He didn't notice until he started choking on the blood that filled his left lung. He may not feel pain and he may be immortal, but he still had blood.

Before he could react, I withdrew my dagger and pieced him again, this time in the front, as he recoiled.

"What?" he muttered. "How did you get this past security?"

I was going to ask who made him a TSA agent but stopped as he tried to speak and nothing but blood came out.

Perhaps the wound had already sealed, as it did when I had accidentally shot him so many weeks earlier, but the blood was still there, blackened and clotting. While he wiped the foul, viscous liquid from his mouth, I wiped the blade of the dagger on my tunic, though I grimaced at the action.

"Guards!" he shouted, still able to walk regardless. Two men walked in to the room, evidently stationed outside previously, and stood at attention.

"Search her," he spat, literally spitting. A clot of black blood hit the stone floor and I gagged, very near  to expelling the (admittedly few) contents of my stomach.

They didn't seem to be men like Falcon, carrying a fracture of darkness in them, though I hadn't a way to tell. I just guessed--there was only one way to find out.

Horrified with myself and the bloodshed to come, I steeled myself for whatever came and clenched my fist around the leather-wrapped hilt of the dagger.

Knife and dagger throwing was my best skill.

As they both approached, I reached for Almiraë, and drew.

Both guards seemed ready to tackle me to the floor, but with a flick of my wrist, I launched first one dagger and then the other towards them. The first hit its target, the blade embedded up to the hilt in the guard's neck.