Hidden in the Rubble [Book One]

Chapter 4: A Change in Plans

Chapter 4

--------------------------------

A Change in Plans

The wind roared in Lettvind's pointed ears, something that he couldn't say he was very fond of. Ever since the queen decided to drop them off on the frozen realm of giants, everything has been a life-or-death situation. Blizzards were constantly threatening to wipe him off the face of the realm, and the mountain lions weren't especially as friendly as he hoped. The only heat available was his heavy elven armor, which teemed with sweat. With every step he took through the snow, a heavy inhale followed. Being a Dark Elf in the heart of Jotunheim was something almost no elf ever accomplished, but it did have its prices.

Although he dreaded the frigid terrain, he was not in favor of returning to his lonely forest bunker. When he was little, he was once told that adventure was out there. However, they never said wether that adventure would be enjoyable. Either way, he was still forced to set fire to the Jotunheim castle.

Lettvind had been sent with 2 other Svartalfar, all of which, including him, attempted to burn down the castle of ice. He wasn't very fond of the other elves, considering that they never really communicated with him directly. They were stationed somewhere up in the trees, watching as their comrade struggled to climb up the snowy hill.

They're probably just sitting up there and laughing at me, he noticed angrily. Lettvind was thought of as an outcast, sent away for nothing. Finally, he reached the burning wall of the castle and shoved his long, tooth-like dagger through one of the ice blocks. He twisted it deep into the block, creating a gaping hole. releasing the dagger from its frozen brick, he implanted a familiar bomb inside the indent. Pressing a button on the bomb, he ran as the weapon began to electronically tick repeatedly.

3, 2, 1...

The bomb blasted a hole into the inside corridors, revealing the flaming boules of the castle. He rushed back to the hole and leaped through it. The remaining guards slashed their swords at him and nearly sliced his limbs off. One by one, he cut them down with his two daggers. The other elves rushed in, careless of the progress that he made. At first, they slipped around the frozen floor, struggling to keep their balance. "Do you not know what ice skating is, lads?" Lettvind teased. They gave him a look that meant "shut up or I'll kill you" and skated down the hallway.

He followed as required and tightened his grip on the daggers. His mask threatened to fall off, so he quickly locked it back into place on his black headwear. Locating and killing the king and queen of Jotunheim must have been a job for assassins, which was probably why he found it unusually impossible. The trio of Dark Elves occasionally scattered as columns fell. Soon enough, Lettvind and the rest noticed that they would have to find another way out due to the rubble left behind by each collapsing ceiling, stalagmite, arch, or pillar. If he escaped this mission alive, he would be considered a true hero. Since Lettvind didn't have a title yet, it would be an honor to receive the name "Lettvind Kingslayer". Life had been rough, and with starvation always creeping around every corner, he needed the honor. He did not care if the two others took some credit. Dear Gods, this heat is making it seem hot even when I'm inside the core of a castle made of ice! he thought.

"I'll check the rooms on the bottom while he takes the stables. Lettvind, you must check upstairs, where the bedrooms are. Kill all who stand in your way," one elf instructed. Lettvind nodded in approval as the two Svartalfar sprinted away. Checking the bedrooms upstairs would be a risky job, assuming thats where most of the people were. It was especially risky since the stairs were already giving out in the scorching heat. He dashed up the burning stairs, some steps collapsing under his weight. From there on, there was no turning back. As he skated down the dark hallway, his leather boots snagged on a few pieces of splintered ice. He tripped on the previously-smooth ground, and slid about a foot, then blood oozed from his left arm. He lifted himself back up, examining his exposed and torn skin. He growled as the flames stretched for him, engulfing the walls around him in an array of orange and red. He slipped around the upstairs corridors, bashing each thin, ice door with the tip of his long daggers. No survivors, he noticed.

As blood seeped from his arm, he came across a small entrance to another hallway. The raging fire within made it feel like his pearl-colored mask was about to melt off onto his grey flesh. He unlatched his mask and wiped the sweat off his forehead and slowly clicked his mask into place again. Although he wasn't in favor of risking his life to check the few rooms that lay beyond the entrance, he had to go on. He charged through the inferno, the heated tongues licking at his wound. Again, he slipped onto his back, moaning in pain. He struggled to get up, and the fact that his arm was injured did not help. The ceiling crashed down behind him. He had a feeling that the mission was doomed to fail anyways. He trudged down the hallway, realizing that there was no use in searching the rooms.

As the crackling of the fire grew louder in his ears, he noticed a slight noise coming from the dead end of the hallway; choking.

Then, he knew he had a chance at accomplishing something. He hurried over to the noise, faltering with each step. Then, the body was visible, but only a bit because the smoke was growing thick. It was an unconscious female Jotun who just happened to have the most beautiful horns ever. Although, he was not one to judge the shape of her horns; he thought as a Dark Elf, not a native Jotun, therefor he had no clue if her horns would be considered as 'beautiful' as he thought they were.

He inched closer and closer until he could see the features on her face, the color of her hair, and the clothes that she adorned. She wore a burnt white gown, and her hair was messy and dyed a light, light purple. He knelt down by her and softly brushed the ash off her face. Her skin... It was just as the rumors had spoked of. There was indeed a violet Jotun.

Although, there were probably many violet Jotun, he guessed. Just as the skin of elves was sometimes a deep grey. She was extraordinary. Her face was skinny and made with perfection. Something was stuck in her throat, causing her to choke uncontrollably. "Oh dear, what happened to you?" Lettvind whispered in her ear, knowing that she was unconscious.

Then, he noticed that her leg was caught under a fallen pillar. He pushed the pillar aside, releasing her delicate leg. Then, with hesitation, he lifted the Giant up, exposing lots of her skin under the tears that her gown had gone through. He now had to find a way out of the castle and save the girl. He glanced at a nearby door, and chucked his blade through the flames and shattered the door of ice. The ice shards flew across the floor, which would probably injure the next person to step within the glass-covered area.

It was a storage room; nothing but a few barrels, a broken bed, tons of crates, and about 4 bronze vases. Other than that, it was just an empty room. The ceiling crashes from behind them, causing three more pillars to block the way out. Then, a crack, and another and another. The entire hallway wall collapsed and left them trapped in the storage room. He ran for the window, cradling her in his arms.

The building erupted in flames as Lettvind nestled her deep into his arms and jumped out the window. He thudded to the ground, the unconscious Frost Giant landing softly on top of him.

* * *