Fan Fiction ❯ The Climatic First Encounter ❯ The Crime Comes Out ( Chapter 2 )

The Crime Comes Out

 

Damn if the elf isn't flexible—Ramian finds himself staring. Lithe smooth body, slippery and glistening from the warm water, silky hair spilling across the lightly muscled back, the throaty purr…it makes Ramian want to pull the elf against him again, to feel the length of his prisoner's form trapped against his. It had been a while—years—since he had been this close to another man and he feels his body responding to both the nearness and the elf's offer. It's almost too good to pass up—the elf was willing, and who would care what he did with a wanted murderer—but after a few moments, old hurt resurfaces, memories that he's tried to bury. Damn the elf for trying to seduce him anyway. Ramian pushes the elf away, though not quite as hard as he wants to. “Knock it off. I ain't your master.”

 

Shade had been expecting as much but was innately pleased that it took so long to get his response.

 

“You could at least tell a fellow what he is being accused of?”

 

Standing up, the elf slips out of the wooden tub and reaches for a drying cloth while he waits for an answer. Perhaps he should make a run for it, he thinks to himself. But without his clothes, he wouldn't get very far. Better to bide his time and wait for the bounty hunter couldn't watch him all the time and the elf knew he was more patient and far smarter.

 

Ramian narrows his eyes as the elf slips out of the tub, debating whether to jump out after him or not. If the idiot bolted for the door and tried to make a run for it, Ramian would have no choice but to chase after, clothes or no, and he didn't particularly relish the thought of running after the elf naked through the city in the rain.

 

Levering himself out of the tub, Ramian walks over to his pack and pulls out a small bundle—a clean, dry set of clothing. Just a simple black cotton tunic and matching loose pants, but it would do. He tosses the tunic at the elf. “Put it on,” he says, grabbing a drying cloth and giving himself a cursory rubdown before stepping to the pants.

 

He looks sideways at the elf, not staring exactly, but not wanting to let him out of his sight, either. “Don't start with the `I'm innocent' crap, I hear it all the time. If you want to play dumb, that's your business. Just don't expect me to play along.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Shade slips the tunic over his head and decides not to press the issue. It was becoming obvious that this was no longer a game. Glancing down, the elf practically laughs at the fact that the hem of the bounty hunter's shirt hangs to his knees. Turning his back to the human, Shade attempts to ignore him till a hand reaches out and grabs him by the arm. As the elf is jerked around, cold metal encircles his wrists once more and he finds himself being hauled out of the bathing room. Shade could be docile if he wanted but right now was not one of those times. His enslaver reaches to throw open the door to their room and the elf takes that moment to stiffen up and protest. However his plan backfires for the bounty hunter just tightened his grip and the elf's smaller body slams into the doorjamb causing his head to crack sharply on the wooden trim. Instantly Shade crumples.

 

Expecting a trick, Ramian steps away as the lithe form crumples to the floor, wary of being tripped; but as the elf does nothing but lie there, Ramian slowly begins to frown and leans over to check him again. Unconscious. Wiry little thing. He shouldn't have shoved him so hard, but the elf had been asking for it.

 

Ramian leans down to pick the elf up, carrying him to the bed. A thin line of blood traces down the elf's forehead from where he'd hit the doorjam.

 

He'd never seen elves as fragile—not when they were beating up on him as a child, at least—but now, looking at the elf's delicate features and slender body, Ramian feels like if he isn't careful, he could snap the elf in two. Hesitating once, then twice, he finally reaches out to brush his fingers against the elf's jawline. His skin was soft, but softer underneath his jaw where no beard would ever grow. Following the contours of the elf's face, Ramian traces up to the elf's lips and he pauses, feeling the light flutter of breath against his fingertips.

 

Abruptly, he snatches his hand away as if the elf's skin had suddenly turned hot. It was no time to be messing around with his prisoner; he had to focus on getting back to Everwood and collecting his bounty. He'd be able to live for a few months on this score, maybe more if he was frugal, less if he bought the new knife he'd been wanting. Regardless, he had to get the elf back there first.

 

Leaving the elf on the bed a moment, he digs through his gear and takes out a small leather-wrapped package and unwraps it carefully. With a bit of alcohol dabbed on a clean cloth, he treats the elf's wound then applies a light herbal paste that smells fragrant and faintly medicinal. It would have to do. As he puts the kit away and sits back, he watches the elf for long moments. Elves didn't sleep, not like humans did, but if Ramian went to bed now he knew the elf would probably wake long before he did and would probably try to sneak away.

 

Retrieving the key to the manacles, Ramian undoes the cuff around the elf's right wrist then snaps it around his own, easing the elf under the covers and then climbing in after.

 

Ramian closes his eyes, but it's difficult to get comfortable with his right arm resting awkwardly across his body, trapped by the manacle cuff whose chain led to the cuff that encircled the elf's other wrist. Shifting, he tries to turn over, but it is still not comfortable. Ramian grumbles to himself, but finally just covers the elf's arm with his own and wraps his arm around the elf's waist, pulling the slender body against his bare chest. For a moment, it feels so good he instinctively nuzzles the back of the elf's neck but when he catches himself, he scowls and stops immediately.

 

Still, something about a warm clean body in his arms tugs gently at his consciousness, lulling him to sleep.

 

The night passed uneventfully, the elf didn't stir once during the night. After regaining consciousness and finding himself wrapped in the bounty hunter's arms, Shade really didn't know what to do. He didn't require sleep like the human did so the thief took advantage and used the time to carefully observe the other man. The red haired human was covered in scars yet appeared to be barely twenty summers old. It wasn't difficult for Shade to figure out why he had been so easily overpowered. The bounty hunter's arms were twice as thick as his own and the human had nearly ten inches on him in height. Sighing softly, the elf eventually closes his eyes and feigns sleep.

 

Morning comes soon enough and Shade feels himself being hauled out of bed. Glancing to his captor, the elf sees the bounty hunter's hard eyes and facial expression and decides not to put up a fight. Once they were on the road, then it would be a different story.

 

Ramian hauls the elf out of the inn, glaring up at the sky, which was the color of dulled steel, threatening rain again. He'd had just about enough of the foul weather, and that, combined with the elf's sullen presence, was enough to put him in a bad mood. As he marches the elf down to the stables, passers-by take one look at the manacles around the elf's wrists and look away quickly. Most folk down by the docks knew better than to interfere with a bounty hunter, which was just the way Ramian liked it. All he needed to do now was to get the elf back to Everwood to claim his reward. It would be about a week's journey, he figured, but the amount that was offered to bring the elf back alive would make it worth it.

 

It had better, at least.

 

He buys an extra horse to transport the elf—easier to keep track of him that way— and picks up a few supplies at one of the dingy little stores at the edge of the dockside district. It would be cheaper here than anywhere else in the city, and the quality was just about as good. Oiled cloaks hang on a rack toward the front of the store, and after a moment, Ramian picks one up and adds it to his pile.

 

He pays gold for his purchases, but as he counts the remaining few coins in his pouch, Ramian sees that he's going to have to live off the land for most of the journey. No sleeping in roadside inns and eating in taverns, not for two at least. And given the elf's delicate constitution, Ramian doesn't want to risk not feeding him and having him collapse again or something. It wasn't going to be a problem to hunt for their meals, but it would just be another thing that would slow them down and make the journey longer. He scowls.

 

As he shoves the oiled cloak into the elf's hands, the elf smirks at him, eyes glinting like he knows something Ramian doesn't. It makes Ramian want to shove the elf up against the wall, though he's almost not sure what he'd do immediately after that. It was best just not to think about it and keep focused on the journey ahead. He leads both horses forward and pushes the elf ahead of him as they head down the street to the city gate.

 

Somewhat to his surprise, there's a large crowd of wagons, horses, and even a few people on foot just outside the gate. A caravan, maybe fifty some odd people strong; it looked like they were just getting ready to leave. Ramian pauses, considering. It would be slower than going alone but there was safety in numbers. The bandits had been getting bolder as of late—Ramian had even tangled with a few during his hunt for the elf.

 

“We're going to Everwood,” a voice says nearby. Ramian turns to see an old man, bent but still wiry, sitting astride a mule. The old man nods sagely, gaze traveling to the bow Ramian kept strapped to his back. “That's a fine looking bow you have there, son. We wouldn't mind an extra hand or two along with us, particularly if you know how to use that thing.”

 

“I know how to use it,” Ramian mutters, gaze traveling over the crowd of travelers again. Going with them would probably add a good three to four days onto the journey, but it would also mean that he wouldn't have to worry about bandits. Or hunting for food, if he managed to wrangle meals in exchange for watching the caravan at night. Merchants were often looking for guards, and while it wasn't exciting work, it was steady. After a moment, he nods. “All right. We'll travel with your caravan, old man.” He turns to gesture at the elf. “But you should know, the elf here is—”

 

Gone.

 

Ramian stares blankly at the spot the elf occupied only a few moments before. He'd only taken his eyes off of him for a second—

 

Cursing under his breath, Ramian shoves the horses' leads into the old man's hand. “Hold on a minute, would you?” He lets his hand drop to the knife at his hip then moves forward, scanning the area around the gate for any sign of the fleeing elf. Had he slipped back into the city? Or ducked into one of the wagons to hide? He shoves past a few merchants as he searches, but the titter of female laughter draws his attention for a second and he glances around to see the elf in the company of two of the young women traveling with the caravan. The women giggle and blush, apparently at something the elf was whispering to them. In spite of the fact the elf made no move to hide the manacles around his wrist, he seemed to have them enthralled.

 

Feeling even more pissed off than he would have if the elf had disappeared all together, Ramian stalks up to the elf and grabs him roughly by the shoulder. The young women gasp and step back, turning pale as Ramian scowls ferociously at them. “Don't get too close. Your boyfriend here's a murderer,” he snarls, but realizes too late as a collective gasp echoes around the caravan that he gave his warning too loudly and now the entire caravan is staring between him and the elf.