And Your Bird Can Sing
folder
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
2
Views:
868
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
2
Views:
868
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
The Sweetness of Death
Title: And Your Bird Can Sing 2/?
Rating: Nc-17
Author: Iamme
Beta: Belle
Desc: LOTR/Crow Wrongs are set right.
Warnings: Violence and death
Not mine. Belongs to Tolkien, J.Obarr, Dante and others noted with in. Thanks To Paul McCartney and John Lennon for the title. All remaining mistakes are my own.
Book Two: The Sweetness of Death
"In every civilization there is a moronic underworld which cannot be civilized. It can be taught to read and write, but not to think, and it lives upon the level of its emotions and prejudices."
William Allen White
Elladan sat deathly quiet as he waited for nightfall, a knife in his hand. He waited till he could search out the hunters who had now become the hunted. The knife bit into his flesh tasting only the first drops of blood that it would draw. The blades held a thirst for blood just as his soul thirst justice. The crow would guide him to his first act of cleansing. Bruno… He had pulled the trigger first, and thus his life would be the first sacrificed on the altar of revenge.
The crow sat watching him with his ageless gaze and Elladan smiled, knowing that this time vengeance would be sweet as the last fruit of summer.
“Time is short, Elf. Go seek your vengeance.”
Elladan’s manic laugh filled the room as he leaned in, looked directly into those dark orbs, and smirked at the bird. “Time is never short for the race of Elves. We have an abundance of time, pain, and grief. I only have a shortage of life.” With that, he stood and went to the bed, pushing it back and opening a well-concealed door beneath it. Inside laid two matching swords. He took his own and left the other. His blade would be the one with which he sought his vengeance, what would use to kill those who had done so much wrong that an eternity in “Hell” would never be enough. He slid the ancient sheath over his shoulder and walked out into the night.
They say that "guns don't kill people, people kill people." Well I think the gun helps. If you just stood there and yelled BANG, I don't think you'd kill too many people.
- Eddie Izzard, Dressed to Kill
Elladan sat on the hood of Bruno’s 69 Mustang waiting as the enforcer left the bar. The man’s trusty .44 Magnum could be seen clearly in his belt holster, the same weapon that had sent the bullets tearing through Elladan’s flesh, leaving him helpless, and destroying his life. This time would be different. No longer helpless, no longer the one caught off guard. He would make certain Bruno would find out how it felt to fall to a dearly beloved weapon. What it felt like to watch his lifeblood flow out before his eyes. Elladan looked at the two thugs walking next to the big man and smirked. No point in leaving these vermin alive since he was already here.
“Hey, Bruno! Who the fuck is that on your car?” the bigger of the two growled.
Bruno reached for his gun. “I don’t know, dawg, but we’re gonna find out.” The big man walked up to the car to glare at the figure on the hood. “Who the fuck are you? Get off my fucking car you freak!”
Elladan stood lazily, shaking his head. “Tsk, tsk. Do you have no respect for the dead, Bruno?”
Bruno looked at the figure before him. “The dead are dead. Why should I give a fuck about them?”
Elladan stepped out of the darkness into the pool of artificial light he had evaded till that moment. He unsheathed his sword and grinned evilly, the effect in combination with his make-up was an eerie and macabre picture. “Because death has a way of catching up with us.”
Bruno paled, but to give him credit, he didn’t run. One of the others with him tugged at the big man’s sleeve.
“What’s up with him?” came the rough voice.
“Unfinished business,” Bruno replied.
Elladan nodded. “Indeed, but I am here to remedy that.”
Bruno whipped out his gun, aiming at Elladan’s face. “No more talk. Go back to where you belong.”
In a blur of movement, Elladan struck, taking the hand and the gun. Bruno howled in pain and his compatriots turned tail, fleeing into the night.
“Such loyal friends you have, Bruno,” Elladan taunted the man. The thug had fallen to his knees, clasping his wounded arm to his chest. Blood poured over his chest, but the hatred in those eyes did not flicker.
“Yeah, well, such is life. Your loyalty didn’t do you no good, now did it? Finish it,” he growled.
Elladan shook his head. “Not yet. Not until you taste despair as you forced my brother and I to do. Not until you have a chance to taste the full appetizer of fear and pain that comes before the main course of death. ” He circled the man, keeping a wary eye on the hoodlum. “Where are the others, Bruno? Tell me, so that I may visit them and show them the error of their ways.”
“I ain’t tellin’ you nuthin’, bugger. Kill me if you want, but you ain’t learnin’ nothin from me,” Bruno spat out.
Elladan merely smiled and slashed at Bruno’s ankles, severing the Achilles’ tendons through the boots he remembered so well. Bruno’s screams rang out in the cold night as he writhed on the snow-covered walk. Elladan’s mind flashed back to those boots, metal grinding into his hand, fingers breaking.
“How about now? Do you want me end your torment? Or shall I continue to cut you apart till you have nothing left to slice off?” Memories of Elrohir’s suffering washed over him just as his own a moment ago but, these were more painful. Memories of how Bruno had tortured his brother. “After all, that would be fitting for what you have done.”
He knelt beside the groaning man, hauling him up by one hand until the other’s fetid breath puffed on his face. “Where are they?”
Shock had begun to set in and the man shook nearly uncontrollably. “Dunno,” he managed through chattering teeth. “Hawthorn hired us just for that job. He finds unique beings and sells them to the government for research.”
Disgusted, Elladan released the man. “Where are the other two?” he asked, the tip of his sword tracing a line down Bruno’s neck, just above the collar.
“Jack’s Place, That is where Rigsby hangs out!” came the frantic reply. “I changed my mind. Don’t kill me,” he begged.
Elladan felt himself grow cold. “Why should I listen to your pleas when you refused to listen ours?”
He watched as Bruno’s eyes flickered to the severed hand and the gun still clutched in its fingers. “I would not try that, if I were you.”
But Bruno had gone beyond any reason. Desperate, his good hand reached out and grabbed the weapon, discharging it into Elladan’s chest. The returned Elf’s body jerked as the bullet passed through his dead flesh. He looked down as the hole closed.
“Ouch, that almost hurt. Now, it is time for you to die.” he said in an emotionless voice. Bruno’s eyes dilated and he tried to squirm away, still pointing the gun.
“Die, damn you!” he shouted, and began firing until only the click of the hammer sounded.
Elladan shook his head. “You cannot kill those already dead, Bruno. Death has come to claim his price for the evil you have poured out upon others. It is time to pay for your sins. You who has killed many innocents, destroyed many lives. Can you even count how many?” Elladan asked.
Bruno just shook his head in disbelief as Elladan continued “I shall take your head as I have taken the heads of those vile creatures from my past. Human you may be, but I could swear you descended from an Orc.” With that, he raised his sword and sliced through Bruno’s neck.
The head rolled away, against the car’s tire, as Bruno’s body slumped onto the pavement. Elladan picked up the grisly trophy, staring into the dead eyes.
Elladan looked down at the dead man as sirens wailed in the night. “To what base uses we may return, Horatio! So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.” He then stuck the head on the spike of a nearby metal fence “One down, and two to go,” he murmured and walked off into the night. Jack’s place would be his next stop.
I'm over it
You see I'm falling in a vast abyss
Clouded by memories of the past
At last I see
I hear it fading I can't speak it
Or else you will dig my grave
You fear them finding
Always whining
Take my hand
Now be alive
“Forsaken” David Draiman
Rating: Nc-17
Author: Iamme
Beta: Belle
Desc: LOTR/Crow Wrongs are set right.
Warnings: Violence and death
Not mine. Belongs to Tolkien, J.Obarr, Dante and others noted with in. Thanks To Paul McCartney and John Lennon for the title. All remaining mistakes are my own.
Book Two: The Sweetness of Death
"In every civilization there is a moronic underworld which cannot be civilized. It can be taught to read and write, but not to think, and it lives upon the level of its emotions and prejudices."
William Allen White
Elladan sat deathly quiet as he waited for nightfall, a knife in his hand. He waited till he could search out the hunters who had now become the hunted. The knife bit into his flesh tasting only the first drops of blood that it would draw. The blades held a thirst for blood just as his soul thirst justice. The crow would guide him to his first act of cleansing. Bruno… He had pulled the trigger first, and thus his life would be the first sacrificed on the altar of revenge.
The crow sat watching him with his ageless gaze and Elladan smiled, knowing that this time vengeance would be sweet as the last fruit of summer.
“Time is short, Elf. Go seek your vengeance.”
Elladan’s manic laugh filled the room as he leaned in, looked directly into those dark orbs, and smirked at the bird. “Time is never short for the race of Elves. We have an abundance of time, pain, and grief. I only have a shortage of life.” With that, he stood and went to the bed, pushing it back and opening a well-concealed door beneath it. Inside laid two matching swords. He took his own and left the other. His blade would be the one with which he sought his vengeance, what would use to kill those who had done so much wrong that an eternity in “Hell” would never be enough. He slid the ancient sheath over his shoulder and walked out into the night.
They say that "guns don't kill people, people kill people." Well I think the gun helps. If you just stood there and yelled BANG, I don't think you'd kill too many people.
- Eddie Izzard, Dressed to Kill
Elladan sat on the hood of Bruno’s 69 Mustang waiting as the enforcer left the bar. The man’s trusty .44 Magnum could be seen clearly in his belt holster, the same weapon that had sent the bullets tearing through Elladan’s flesh, leaving him helpless, and destroying his life. This time would be different. No longer helpless, no longer the one caught off guard. He would make certain Bruno would find out how it felt to fall to a dearly beloved weapon. What it felt like to watch his lifeblood flow out before his eyes. Elladan looked at the two thugs walking next to the big man and smirked. No point in leaving these vermin alive since he was already here.
“Hey, Bruno! Who the fuck is that on your car?” the bigger of the two growled.
Bruno reached for his gun. “I don’t know, dawg, but we’re gonna find out.” The big man walked up to the car to glare at the figure on the hood. “Who the fuck are you? Get off my fucking car you freak!”
Elladan stood lazily, shaking his head. “Tsk, tsk. Do you have no respect for the dead, Bruno?”
Bruno looked at the figure before him. “The dead are dead. Why should I give a fuck about them?”
Elladan stepped out of the darkness into the pool of artificial light he had evaded till that moment. He unsheathed his sword and grinned evilly, the effect in combination with his make-up was an eerie and macabre picture. “Because death has a way of catching up with us.”
Bruno paled, but to give him credit, he didn’t run. One of the others with him tugged at the big man’s sleeve.
“What’s up with him?” came the rough voice.
“Unfinished business,” Bruno replied.
Elladan nodded. “Indeed, but I am here to remedy that.”
Bruno whipped out his gun, aiming at Elladan’s face. “No more talk. Go back to where you belong.”
In a blur of movement, Elladan struck, taking the hand and the gun. Bruno howled in pain and his compatriots turned tail, fleeing into the night.
“Such loyal friends you have, Bruno,” Elladan taunted the man. The thug had fallen to his knees, clasping his wounded arm to his chest. Blood poured over his chest, but the hatred in those eyes did not flicker.
“Yeah, well, such is life. Your loyalty didn’t do you no good, now did it? Finish it,” he growled.
Elladan shook his head. “Not yet. Not until you taste despair as you forced my brother and I to do. Not until you have a chance to taste the full appetizer of fear and pain that comes before the main course of death. ” He circled the man, keeping a wary eye on the hoodlum. “Where are the others, Bruno? Tell me, so that I may visit them and show them the error of their ways.”
“I ain’t tellin’ you nuthin’, bugger. Kill me if you want, but you ain’t learnin’ nothin from me,” Bruno spat out.
Elladan merely smiled and slashed at Bruno’s ankles, severing the Achilles’ tendons through the boots he remembered so well. Bruno’s screams rang out in the cold night as he writhed on the snow-covered walk. Elladan’s mind flashed back to those boots, metal grinding into his hand, fingers breaking.
“How about now? Do you want me end your torment? Or shall I continue to cut you apart till you have nothing left to slice off?” Memories of Elrohir’s suffering washed over him just as his own a moment ago but, these were more painful. Memories of how Bruno had tortured his brother. “After all, that would be fitting for what you have done.”
He knelt beside the groaning man, hauling him up by one hand until the other’s fetid breath puffed on his face. “Where are they?”
Shock had begun to set in and the man shook nearly uncontrollably. “Dunno,” he managed through chattering teeth. “Hawthorn hired us just for that job. He finds unique beings and sells them to the government for research.”
Disgusted, Elladan released the man. “Where are the other two?” he asked, the tip of his sword tracing a line down Bruno’s neck, just above the collar.
“Jack’s Place, That is where Rigsby hangs out!” came the frantic reply. “I changed my mind. Don’t kill me,” he begged.
Elladan felt himself grow cold. “Why should I listen to your pleas when you refused to listen ours?”
He watched as Bruno’s eyes flickered to the severed hand and the gun still clutched in its fingers. “I would not try that, if I were you.”
But Bruno had gone beyond any reason. Desperate, his good hand reached out and grabbed the weapon, discharging it into Elladan’s chest. The returned Elf’s body jerked as the bullet passed through his dead flesh. He looked down as the hole closed.
“Ouch, that almost hurt. Now, it is time for you to die.” he said in an emotionless voice. Bruno’s eyes dilated and he tried to squirm away, still pointing the gun.
“Die, damn you!” he shouted, and began firing until only the click of the hammer sounded.
Elladan shook his head. “You cannot kill those already dead, Bruno. Death has come to claim his price for the evil you have poured out upon others. It is time to pay for your sins. You who has killed many innocents, destroyed many lives. Can you even count how many?” Elladan asked.
Bruno just shook his head in disbelief as Elladan continued “I shall take your head as I have taken the heads of those vile creatures from my past. Human you may be, but I could swear you descended from an Orc.” With that, he raised his sword and sliced through Bruno’s neck.
The head rolled away, against the car’s tire, as Bruno’s body slumped onto the pavement. Elladan picked up the grisly trophy, staring into the dead eyes.
Elladan looked down at the dead man as sirens wailed in the night. “To what base uses we may return, Horatio! So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.” He then stuck the head on the spike of a nearby metal fence “One down, and two to go,” he murmured and walked off into the night. Jack’s place would be his next stop.
I'm over it
You see I'm falling in a vast abyss
Clouded by memories of the past
At last I see
I hear it fading I can't speak it
Or else you will dig my grave
You fear them finding
Always whining
Take my hand
Now be alive
“Forsaken” David Draiman