A Brawl at the Firkin (Gareth, Jay, Karl)
Dec. 15th, 2004 03:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
horseboykarlKarl: I've spent the last few days in an endless round of chores and repairs, trying to get my house back in order. I found a place where the fence was down, too, and had to fix that before I got Smokey Joe back.
The barn was clean finally, and fresh straw down, and the feed bins full. I wheeled the trailer out, attached it to the truck and then Ire and I went over to Viggo's stable for my horse. We spent some time getting reacquainted and then the three of us went for a trail ride.
It was dusk when we returned so I brushed down Smokey, fed him and then Ire and I went into the house for dinner. I was tired of my own company, so I took a shower and headed out on the bike for the bar where I had run into Dave. Maybe the cute bartender remembers me.
I didn't realize how late it was, the bar is nearly deserted. I take a stool and give that bartender, um, oh yeah, Gareth, a huge grin. He looks happy to see me, I guess he remembered.
Gareth: I almost glare when the door opens, has been a fuck of a night an' I've been waitin' for these last few punters to get out the door. Just as they look like they're makin' some headway this new fella walks in. But I stifle my glare when I see who it is. "Howya. Yeh're Dave's friend, ain't yeh? Karl, is it?" Yeh look a wee bit surprised I remember yeh, but sure, anybody can make Dave grin like tha's okay in my books. I give yeh a big smile as I reach for a pint glass. "Same again? 'twas the Founders' Redhead yeh was drinkin' the other night. Yeh seemed to like it alrigh' then, I recall." An' yeh seemed quite taken wi' the other Redhead as well, if I'm not mistaken. Yeh nod an' I draw yer pint, grinnin' at yeh across the bar as I ask, "So then yeh gettin' settled back in okay?"
Karl: You remember me and you remember my beer! A bartender beyond price!
But I grimace inwardly remembering what has happened since I saw you last when you ask if I'm getting settled in. Can't very well tell you that my body got taken over by some barbarian Viking-wannabe who then took it out to play, can I? Right.
So, "Yeah, glad to be back. House needed lots of work, been going all day. Beer hits the spot perfect!"
Gareth: The punters stand up to leave then ... droppin' a quite sizeable tip on the bar, fair play to 'em. I walk 'em to the door, wavin' a bit an' then lockin' it up tight behind 'em. "Doan worry, yeh can stay as long as yeh like. Just doan want nobody else wanderin' in this late. 'sides, now I can join yeh for a drink." I'm just about to pull out the Bush when I hear the four short raps on the kitchen door. "That'd be my boy. 'scuse me just a minute."
When I open the door, a blast a' cold night air rushes in. An' when I pull Jaybird to me, his skin feels so cool I just wanna lay against him. But all I can give 'im is one long lingerin' kiss before pullin' away. "We've got company, love." I give his shirtsleeve a wee tug as I start back up front, addin' "Man, it's hot in here. Leave the door open, why doan yeh, get some air goin'." Back up front I slide back behind the bar and pass by the Bush to reach for the Johnny Walker instead, pourin' two glasses an' pushin' one towards my boy. "Jay, this is Karl ... Karl, Jay."
Jay: As I run my hand across Gareth's neck, I'm surprised to feel just how hot and damp it is. Makes me more than a little hot myself to be able to smell his sweat as his tongue wraps around mine...mmmm, he's closed up shop already, no harm in distractin' him for a while...
Wait, what? Company? Dave stop by for a late drink or somethin'? He's the only other guy I know Gareth'd let in after hours, and I pout at bit as Gareth pulls away from me and asks me to keep the door open. Fuckin' A, he coulda told me that 'fore getting' me all riled up like that...
I take my stool at the bar 'fore lookin' at our guest, and there's somethin' bout this guy that makes me do a double-take. It's not just the fact that this fella is fuckin' hot, but there's somethin' more than a little familiar 'bout the shape of his nose, the sharpness of his eyes..."Jay, this is Karl ... Karl, Jay."
Karl...Karl...where have I seen you before...the picture in Dad's study of him, Paris, Miranda, and him on the Edoras set... Karl Urban! Holy shit!
I extend my hand to Karl, and give him a crooked grin, "Nice to finally meet you, man." Karl gives me an odd look, and as I pull out my pack of smokes I explain, "you know my Dad. Bernard Hill. You two were in those Rings movies together. The old man's told me a bit 'bout you. He'll be glad to know you're in town."
Karl: I watch the bartender cuddling with a another cute one and realize that he's taken. Ah, well, it was just an instinctive response to a good-lookin' guy anyways.
Then Gareth is introducing us and I'm shocked. I didn't know Bernard's son was all grown up! Brings home to me how long ago actually filming Rings was. Thought the boy was in New York anyways. I guess he grew up and came here. And grew up a fine looking kid at that. Uh, let's not go there, feels weird to be thinking that type of thing about the kid of one of my closest friends. (And where's he been hiding you?)
So I grin at you, friendly-like.
"Pleased to meet ya. I thought Bernard's boy was younger. I've been meaning to call your old man, but got sorta sidetracked. How's he doing?"
Gareth: Well fuck me! This is another of them fuckin' hobbity fellas. Shoulda fuckin' known, friend a' Dave's an' all. For fuck's sake, was everbody in this fuckin' country in that fuckin' movie? I steal a fag from Jaybird an' light it up as I listen to 'em talkin', wonderin' if he's gonna shift into one of 'em. Wonder who he was anyway. Damn, I really am gonna have to watch those someday, ain't I? When I got like a million hours to kill. Arrah, a million hours on the couch wi' my boy, could be worse ...
My thoughts are interrupted by the sound a' the back screen slammin'. Must be that goddamn cat from next door slippin in again. Last time she got in she made out wi' a whole fillet a' fish. I rest my smoke in the ashtray an' wink as Jaybird looks up a' me. "Right back." I push through the door cursin' tha' goddamn cat, I'm gonna toss her so far she won't ever think a' comin' ba --
This ain't no cat. Standin' in front a' me are a bunch a' dodgy lookin' fellas, lookin' like poncy Metallica heads all dressed in black, wi' their greasy long hair an' their tats all up their arms an' piercin's comin' outta every spare inch a' skin. They're just a bunch a' punkass kids, maybe a little younger'n me, look like scrawny little shites save for the determined look on their faces an' the weapons they're packin'. I glance over 'em quick, one, two, three, four, five five punkass kids, two with cricket bats an' another wi' a big length a' chain tha' he jostles in his hand menacingly. The one closest to me, the one wi' the bat in his hand, he lashes out an' smashes a tray a' pint glasses at the exact same moment that I call out. "Jaybird!" Not sure if he'll even hear me above the crash. But before the shards even hit the floor, my boy's there beside me.
Jay: "Dad's doin' fine," I grin at Karl as my boy disappears into the kitchen. Figure it best to let the old man tell him 'bout the hospital and Theoden and all that other shit if he wants, considerin' I don't even know if Karl is one of those shiftin' folks. 'sides, that's Dad's business now, not mine. "he's got this ranch-type house up on--"
"Jaybird!"
I'm off my stool and boltin' to the kitchen a split second 'fore I hear the ear-splittin' crash of breakin' glass. I've never heard Gareth sound like that, sharp and angry and --fuck-- just a little afraid, and I know somethin' fuckin' serious is goin' down as I barrel though the door...
Oh fuck me.
Two bats, one chain, and two unknowns. Shit. They could be packin' anythin' from fists to mace to guns. And I left my jacket at home with the Raven 25. Cal in it. Fuck! And suddenly they're all lookin' at me with these really surprised looks on their ugly ass faces, and my heart goes cold as I realize they weren't expectin' Gareth to have company tonight. They were plannin' on bustin up the bar. Bustin' up my boy. And that thought sends such a cold thrill of rage through me I don't even think twice when I throw my head down and launch myself at the fucker in front of me with a yell before he has a chance to recover from his shock. My fist sinks into his gut so hard I can feel the wind leave his lungs in a hot, noisy rush, and as he's doubled over I follow up with a sharp uppercut to his jaw. He drops the bat as he goes down, and as I make a scan to check out the rest of the scene I see Karl come through the kitchen door, lookin' more than a little surprised at what he's walked into.
Karl: The bartender shrieks and Jay bolts for the back, fast as I've ever seen anyone move. Doesn't sound good, and I hesitate for a split second, but I may not know them, but they're friends of friends, so I'm right behind Jay.
I have just enough time to see that it's five on three, not bad odds, when Jay launches himself at one of 'em. What the fuck, don't know what I'm getting into here, but a fight never bothered me before and I'm not about to let it start.
I wade in on the other side of Gareth, fists flying. I land a few good ones before these assholes seem to realize I'm in it. One of 'em starts swinging a chain at me, shit. But it's a kitchen, got to be something. I grab a frying pan, fending the chain off, trying to get close enough to do some damage. Two on Gareth, let's play nice now, fuckers. I get one of them on a backswing with the pan and he reels but doesn't go down.
Pain blossoms along my side. Chain-guy connected while I was distracted. Now I'm pissed. Time to get nasty.
Gareth: Before I can even blink, we're in the midst of a brawl wi' these fuckers. The first crack a' yer man's bat connects wi' my arm as I block my head, sendin' a dull shudderin' ache up to my shoulder. But it's repaid in full wi' my fist righ' in his jaw, hard enough it shoulda sent 'im flyin' back aways ... but it doan. He's still righ' here, wi' some other fucker who's tossin' some really amateurish jabs. Still, wi' the both of 'em goin' at me it's none too pleasant.
This guy wi' the bat's the one botherin' me, gotta take 'em out. An' he's fightin' dirty, so wha' the hell. Out a' the corner a' my eye I see Karl wallop the one wi' a fryin' pan. While he's distracted, I plant a hard boot into the other one's shin. There, tha' sent him back just long enough for me to follow up wi' a hard punch to his face. He tries to swing at me again, but there ain't too much force in it. Good, he's gettin' worn down, now I can finish 'im off. Comin' up under the bat I land two, three, four good hard blows to his gut. He doan fight back, but he doan fall either. More punches, to his stomach, his face ... fuck me, this guy should be goin' down by now...
Just then I'm grabbed from behind, an arm snakin' 'round my throat an' pullin' me back. It's that other fuck. I wriggle my head free just enough that I can sink my teeth, hard enough to break skin, into the tattoo ... fuck me, into the brand on his arm. Wha' kinda fuckers are these anyway? Apparently they still do feel some pain tho, for he yelps and loosens his hold as I thrust my elbow hard into his belly. He drops me, but just as I'm turnin' to see how my boy's farin', my body's hammered wi' hard wood, so hard across my belly it knocks the wind outta me and I stagger back, righ' into the arms a' tha' branded one. Fuckin' great. He grabs my arms righ' as the other fucker comes at me again wi' the bat...
Jay: I turn just in time to see Gareth take a bat to the gut, and the surge of black fury coursin' through me is enough to numb me from the fear as I watch him fall right into another punk's grasp. The fucker I took down is startin' to find his feet again, but that don't matter now as I move faster than I ever have before 'cause nothin' matters now but gettin' between my boy and that bat that fuckin' bat swingin' down down at his head as I jump the last few feet and grab the asshole by his shirt, pushin' him away from Gareth.
But momentum keeps the bat swingin', and it connects with my shoulder with a sickenin' thud hard enough to drop me to my knees. Asshole takes advantage of it, and before I can move his knee nails me in the face, and hot pain explodes in my nose as it connects squarely. I can't help but double over for a moment, and it's just enough for guy to land another blow with the bat on my back. OK, this is fuckin' enough! From my position on the floor I see a large pipe loose under the sink, looks like cook was meanin' to do some repairs. With a rush of adrenaline born of pain I grab the pipe and swing hard, and am rewarded with a yell as the hard metal connects with yieldin' flesh. I look up and swing again, this time bringin' it across the fucker's knee, and it don't take his cry of pain for me to know I've broken his kneecap. I push my advantage, and as he goes down to join me on the floor, I whack him on the back of the head. He hits the ground, and I crack down one, two, three times before he stops movin', and I pick up the bat he's left. What the fuck? They drew pictures on their bats in marker? What kind of freaks are these?
But I don't have time to think about it as I see some fuck with chains comin' at Karl not five feet away, and I take a gamble as I lurch to my feet. "KARL!" I yell, and when he looks up I toss the bat handle-first to him, prayin' I don't hit him.
Karl: I turn the pan edge on and start swinging it. Works good as a defensive weapon, but I'm not getting any closer to taking the guy out with it. The chain is leaving dents in the pan, shit, this guy's not playing around! He's connected a few times and I felt something give in my side, but I ignore the pain, afraid of what happens otherwise. I'm flailing at him for all I'm worth, and finally get the chain to fly around the pan and get stuck. I pull the fucker forward intending to lay 'im out with my fist, but then I see his arm and it stops me cold.
I've seen that enough, Richard and his picky detail shit. Black speech, fucking Black speech tattoo. These assholes are some Middle Earth fanboys gone wrong then. But that makes no sense, why go for Gareth? He wasn't involved in the movies.
He's getting loose while I've been trying to figure it out.
Somebody yells my name and it's Jay, finally giving me a weapon I can use. He throws me a bat and I flash back to swordplay with crazy Viggo, who insisted on playing "catch the sword." I put my hand up and the bat thumps into it cleanly.
I swing the bat on the guy who I've still got trapped. It connects solidly with his head, makes an odd little sound and he drops. I kick him for good measure and then muscle memory kicks in and I've gone someplace else, hoping I don't hit friends instead of foe, but I'm out of control.
Gareth: The blow I was bracin' for doan come, Jaybird's there instead takin' the blow meant for me. I struggle wi' the fucker holdin' me, fucker yeh'll pay for not lettin' me get to my boy, but before I can break free Jaybird's taken the other one out. An' this fuck holdin' me ... with a solid jerk back my head connects wi' his nose an' I hear a crack, an' then a moan. He drops me an' staggers back, blood tricklin' through his fingers as he clutches his broken nose. "Skai," he mutters, as I go at him again. I've got his back up against the wall now, an' I'm just peltin' away at his stomach, until finally, he falls to his knees an' is still.
I turn back, outta the corner a' my eye Karl's goin' at another one like a madman, looks like he's doin' a fine job. Jaybird's ... fuck, he's bleedin' too, tho it ain't stoppin' him from pummellin' another a' these fellas. I start over towards 'em when a rack a' canned goods comes tumblin' down on top a' me head. "What the fuck?" Shite, it's the other one of 'em, goddamn it I'd lost track of 'em all, like fuckin' rats comin' outta the woodwork. This one's standin' there now, a nasty grin on his face. This was one a' the unarmed ones. Least he was unarmed. Now I see he's holdin' Cook's knife in his hand, one a' the big ones. I back away an' find that rollin' choppin' block thing behind me -- always hated that cart for bein' in my way, but now I'm ready to kiss it. I wheel it 'round me an' smash it into yer man's gut, right as he lashes out his knife. A flash a' sharp burnin' pain lances my righ' arm, but I shut it from my mind. Canna think of it now, now I'm just intent on crushin' him hard as I can into the wall. He crashes hard an' drops the knife; as it clatters harmlessly to the ground I hear his words. "Lul Gijak-Ishi!" I've heard those words before. But these guys ain't like tha' one, not nearly as tough. But it sure sounded like ...
Distracted for just a minute, I let him push the cart back enough to wiggle loose. I manage to kick the knife outta his reach before he can grab for it, far under the counter, and in anger he turns to me with another growl. Grabbin' me by the shirt, rippin' my Nico shirt yeh fuckin' bastard,, he pushes me back hard against the wall. He's so close I can smell the anger an' bile on his breath, see the tattoo of a black crown around his neck. He's so close I canna get leverage for a good blow. But I can reach his face. He's got this ring in his eyebrow, stupid fuck, an' before he knows wha's happenin' it's no longer in his eyebrow, it's in my hand, an' I let it drop to the floor as he backs away an' wails.
Jay: I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth, and am surprised to see just how much blood there is. My nose is throbbin' somethin' fierce and I know I should do somethin' to stop the bleedin' soon, but I don't have no time as I hear a crash from inside the bar itself. Fuck! One of them made it in!
I dart a look at Karl and Gareth, and it seems they have shit under control here, so I dart through the swingin' door in time to watch that first fuck I bowled over swipe his bat across the bottom row of bottles behind the bar. A malicious smile crawls across his face as the glass shatters and liquid splashes everywhere.
"Hey pussy-bitch!" I yell as I march towards him, fire leapin' in my eyes as I swing the pipe ominously, "ya wanna play, motherfucker?" I grab a half-empty glass pitcher from a table Gareth hadn't had a chance to bus yet, and with all my strength hurl it at the punk's head, ignorin' the lance of pain from where the other guy's bat connected. Punk sees it comin' a mile off, and just as I suspected, asshole swings at it with his bat. I close my eyes and duck my head as shards of glass go flyin' through the air, but it was enough to distract him so I can close the distance with him. He gains his bearin's enough to barely block the swing of my pipe with his bat, but it leaves him open to my fist that lands hard in his side. Fuckin' A, I must be getting' tired, 'cause that don't even faze him as he brings his bat around for another swing. Dude, I'm getting' sick of this shit! I'm close enough to grab his wrist with my free hand, and bang his arm against the bar, but scrawny though he is he's not one to give up his weapon easy, clutchin' it tight in his tatooed hand...dude, it looks like he's tattooed armor on his hand...looks like a gauntlet or somethin'....
That moment of wonderin' costs me, as his knee jerks up into my groin, dirty fucker, and blindin' pain blossoms so raw and full I almost vomit on my way down. It hurts so bad I don't even really feel it as I land on my side and shards of broken glass embed themselves in my arm, all I can do is try to breathe through the pain. And when I feel the first blow of the bat on my shoulder, all I can do is try to roll out of the way, feelin' more glass sink in, and pray to god this passes quick or I'm a fuckin' dead man.
Karl: I'm gettin' tired of these fuckers not staying down! God dammnit, why can't they give up? The bat is gettin' heavy, I need something else.
Hadn't noticed it, seems Gareth and I had worked our way together, and been fightin' back to back. These assholes don't seem too smart, don't figure out a way to divide and conquer. But, holy shit, they just keep on.
I hear Gareth's steady cursing under his breath and it dawns on both of us at the same time that we're missing a few playmates. And where the fuck is Jay?
Gareth lets out this moan and starts to move, but I grab him. "No, we gotta stay together. Something's weird."
Gareth: Oh, yer man's pissed about his eyebrow, but he ain't gone for another weapon, not yet. I glance around an' the only thin' at hand's the pastry counter, an' on it sits Cook's heavy rollin' pin. I grab it an' bash yer man good wi' it, wallopin' him in the side a' the face. Blood seeps out onto the wood, Cook'll fuckin' kill me for that, but it's enough to stun the bastard for a second. Long enough for me to bash 'im again, an' again, forcin' him backwards until he slips an' falls on the tins that he fuckin' pulled down. "Serves yeh fuckin' right." I kick 'im then, somethin' strangely satisfyin' 'bout the feel a' my boots connectin' repeatedly wi' his flesh, somethin' makin' the pain tricklin' down warm outta my arm feel not quite so bad as my boots hit first somethin' soft, then hard, then breakin' through to soft again...
I stop for a second to get my breath. Just long enough for me to first realise Jaybird ain't here, an' then to hear the smash a' bottles from the bar. "Wha' the fuck..." I start out there withou' thinkin', but Karl grabs me, tells me to stay wi' him. Man, yeh doan understand, tha's my boy out there, that's my bar, I gotta go. But he's right, somethin' is weird. These scrawny shites shoulda been long gone by now. We've taken out the three now, this one wi' the chain's a tough fucker, but if we get 'im out to the front it'll be the three of us against two. "C'mon then." Takin' the chance yer man wi' the chain'll follow, I yank my head at Karl. An' as we pass the mise I grab another a' Cook's knives. No time to fish the big butcher knife's out from under the counter, but Cook's six-inch chef's knife'll do me just fine. An' good man, he keeps 'em nice an' sharp, which I've never been as thankful for as I am when I round the corner an' see my boy there, crumbled behind my bar, surrounded by broken bottles, an' this fuck raisin' his bat to strike 'im again. I let out a bloodcurdlin' scream as I charge towards him, jammin' the knife hard as I can into his back, turnin' it a little just to feel the twinge a' pain in my own arm. He swings around towards me an' catches me wi' the bat, wouldna hurt too bad, him bein' off kilter an' all, 'cept it catches me right where I was slashed. Least I manage to hang on to the knife, slippin' it outta his back an' lookin' for another openin' to jam it in again. Just get him the fuck outta the way so I can check on my boy.
Jay: I manage to dodge the next two blows, but the third connects with my hip hard enough to make me hiss...which means I'm startin' to get myself back...startin' to feel the dozens of cuts across my arm...and I know I gotta stand up again, but this greaseball ain't gonna give me the chance as I try to reach up for the counter and he barely misses my finger with the tip of his bat. Motherfucker! I just need three seconds, three seconds to stand...
Gareth's scream cuts through me sharper than the knife he's holdin', and I almost lose my opportunity. I'm utterly frozen by the look of pure hate on his face as he stabs bat-boy in the back...and the fuck still don't go down. As he reels up to hit Gareth again, I take a deep breath, and plantin' my hands on floor I kick up as hard as I can, pushin' so hard it hurts to land again. But it works, as the punk staggers, droppin' the bat, and slams into the shelves behind the bar, slicin' his hands up as he tries to catch himself on the slippery, glass strewn ledge. I'm too beat up to move fast, but Gareth's on the punk, his boot connectin' with the asshole's face once, twice, three, four times, 'fore I manage to stagger over to them. Grabbin' the handle of a broken bottle of Jack off the floor, I plant my knee into the fuck's chest as I nab him by his long, tangled hair. I pull his head back, pressin' the broken glass against his throat hard enough to make the blood start wellin' through his weird neck tattoo, "You so much as breathe funny, motherfucker and I'll slice you open like the piece of shit you are you ugly sonofabitch!" I press in deeper for extra measure, grinnin' blackly as he squirms once, then stills as he realizes I mean fuckin' it.
My eyes don't leave him, though more than anythin' I wanna look up to see if Gareth and Karl are OK, and to thank my boy for savin' my ass. But I can't give this jerk-off a chance to get away, not if we can't knock him out easy. 'sides, I ain't worth much no more, fucked up as I am, as the adrenaline slowly ebbs from my system. Been far too long since I've been in a fight this brutal for this long. I'm gettin' more than a little dizzy, which makes me take an odd sort of pleasure watchin' my blood slowly drip into the punk's battered face. I ask out loud to both Gareth and Karl, hopin' I don't sound as tired as I feel, "how many more we got left?"
Karl: I wipe sweat and hair outa my face, stings, I guess I'm hurt some. Didn't even know it. Shit! Gareth stabbed that motherfucker and he still wouldn't go down. Time to stop playing pussy. Jay's yelling about our numbers, I take stock. Chain-guy's still after me, Jay's got a broken bottle to one of them, and the other three didn't follow us out of the back. I grab a chair and start swinging, so pumped I don't even think about it. This one's got to go. He falls for the chain trap again, dumb fuck, catch his chains in the chair. Gareth sneaks up behind him and breaks a bottle over his head and while he's reeling from that, I dump a table over on him and jump on it for good measure.
I stand for a moment, catching my breath.
But then I watch as the table starts heaving, and then I hear sirens. Chain-guy jumps up and runs for the back, let him go. The cavalry's coming. I wipe the sweat, oh shit, and blood, too, I guess, off my face and get ready to talk to the plods.
Jay: "Stop your squirmin', pendejo," I hiss at the guy under me, and resist the temptation to look up when I hear a crash followed by Karl's triumphant grunt. Man's not bad in a fight, not bad at all. I can see now why they chose him to be Éomer...
A chillin' sound cuts through the fog of my thoughts, and I can't help but look up as I hear sirens approachin'. Shit! Instinctual panic seizes me, and I feel like a deer in the headlights as the sound gets louder. I gotta get outta here, can't let 'em find me in a brawl with the record I got...
That split second freeze is all the punk needs, and before I can stop him he knocks the bottle outta my hands and shoves me off him hard 'nough to send me sprawlin'. I manage to land without stabbin' myself more on the glass, and I'm too fuckin' exhausted to give more than a feeble grab as the asshole lurches for the back door.
Suddenly, Gareth's at my side, and I lock eyes with him as he helps me to my feet. "Gotta get back home..." I whisper as I lean against him, "don't let 'em know I was here." He nods, understandin' why I need to get outta here, and though I wanna grab him to me, make sure he's really OK, I've only got seconds to make my break, "be careful, my boy."
I pass by Karl as I make my exit, and I manage a crooked grin, "not bad at all, horseboy. Without you here...well fuck. Thanks, man. We owe you one." And with that I scram as fast as I can, tryin' not to limp on the leg that took the full bat shot.
Gareth: I see the look a' surprise from Karl as Jaybird leaves. Better explain it to 'em an' quick 'fore the gardai show. "Man, if yeh could, doan mention Jay bein' here. Nothin' bad, it's just ... complicated." I hope he trusts me, tho why he would, after meetin' me just once before, an' me gettin' him mixed up in this tonigh', I ain't got a clue. Still, "fuck, man, I'm sorry 'bout this, but am I ever fuckin' glad yeh were here. Dunno wha' woulda happened without yeh. An' nice move wi' that table." I grin at yeh as I turn to look at the overturned table, but my grin rapidly fades to see the damage done to my poor bar. Fuck, Chris is gonna kill me.
The cops come in then to take our statements, an' I ask one of 'em to give Chris a call. An' then I start spinnin' the tale a' how Karl an' I were sittin' alone, havin' a quiet drink, when the five of 'em show up. They look a bit suspicious about us doin' away wi' all five of 'em, but I explain that they weren't toughs, just scrawny kids lookin' to do some damage. No point in mentionin' tha' they spoke in the same language as tha' guy who's nearly killed me twice, an' then returned from the dead. Doan think that tidbit'll help 'em locate the suspects.
They're tryin' to convince me to go to the hospital when Chris shows up, a look a' despair on his face. I feel awful about the damage, kickin' myself for leavin' the door unlocked, an' I tell 'im that as I explain what happened. He just shakes his head, says tha's wha' insurance is for, and asks if I'm alrigh'. I tell 'em I am, tho when I wince as he touches my arm I can tell he doan believe me. An' when he holds up his hand smeared wi' blood an' gives me a questionin' glare, I lean in close. "Man, I gotta get home. Jay was here too, doan want the gardai to know but he's hurt an' I gotta see to 'em." He nods, good man, I know he'll keep our secret.
An it looks like they're just about done questionin' Karl too. Soon as I can I go over to 'im. "C'mere to me, we really should see to yer face, looks like yeh busted yer lip there." We go back to the kitchen sink an' I dig the first aid kit out from under the bar an' hand it to 'im. "Here yeh go, man. It doan look too bad atall. Shouldn't hurt yer actin' career atall."
Karl: Could be worse I guess. Has been worse before. I clean up most of the blood, enough so that I won't cause comment between here and home. Fuck, I'm tired, just want to hit the rack.
I crack a smile at Gareth, even thought it hurts like a son of bitch. "If it's ruined, I'm coming after you! Just invite me to the party when you get the place cleaned and buy me a few drinks, that'll square us."
I shudder at what could have happened to them if I hadn't wandered by when I did. I know Bernard well enough to know he'd never get over it, if something happened to his son. They're both so fucking young, but handle themselves like pros. I'm vaguely curious about the deal with Jay, but too bloody knackered to care overmuch.
I grit my teeth on the ride home, never noticed the bike being so rough. Gonna hurt in the morning.
An interesting turn of events. The fools thought it would be simple to destroy this alehouse, this meeting place for the forces of good in this city. Still they do not fathom the powers opposing Morgoth, their "God." This idea of Lord Morgoth as a "god" amuses me. Their puny minds cannot conceive of him as he really is. As if Morgoth could be constrained as a god. The gods have power only over what they create. Morgoth reached beyond that, for the powers untouchable, and for what the Valar viewed as jealousy and arrogance he was struck down. But they were the jealous ones, for they coveted his power and what they could not have they wanted to hold from him. And they were the arrogant ones, to think that he could be banished forever. For ever his strength grows and his followers -- even such as these thirteen fools -- they will grow in power until the day when his might will be restored. And then places like this alehouse will burn with his full fury.
I watch from the darkness as these five slip out, one by one, and make their way back to the others. Perhaps next time they will send their full number. They are but weak men, even under the protection of Lord Morgoth, but together they would be stronger. And strength is what we need in this war.
I turn to go, but turn back to watch another stumble through the shadows to his home. He is injured, the blood and fear and adrenaline enters my senses like a warm caress. I could so easily destroy him, weary and beaten as he is. But I do not. Morgoth has plans yet for this one.
The barn was clean finally, and fresh straw down, and the feed bins full. I wheeled the trailer out, attached it to the truck and then Ire and I went over to Viggo's stable for my horse. We spent some time getting reacquainted and then the three of us went for a trail ride.
It was dusk when we returned so I brushed down Smokey, fed him and then Ire and I went into the house for dinner. I was tired of my own company, so I took a shower and headed out on the bike for the bar where I had run into Dave. Maybe the cute bartender remembers me.
I didn't realize how late it was, the bar is nearly deserted. I take a stool and give that bartender, um, oh yeah, Gareth, a huge grin. He looks happy to see me, I guess he remembered.
Gareth: I almost glare when the door opens, has been a fuck of a night an' I've been waitin' for these last few punters to get out the door. Just as they look like they're makin' some headway this new fella walks in. But I stifle my glare when I see who it is. "Howya. Yeh're Dave's friend, ain't yeh? Karl, is it?" Yeh look a wee bit surprised I remember yeh, but sure, anybody can make Dave grin like tha's okay in my books. I give yeh a big smile as I reach for a pint glass. "Same again? 'twas the Founders' Redhead yeh was drinkin' the other night. Yeh seemed to like it alrigh' then, I recall." An' yeh seemed quite taken wi' the other Redhead as well, if I'm not mistaken. Yeh nod an' I draw yer pint, grinnin' at yeh across the bar as I ask, "So then yeh gettin' settled back in okay?"
Karl: You remember me and you remember my beer! A bartender beyond price!
But I grimace inwardly remembering what has happened since I saw you last when you ask if I'm getting settled in. Can't very well tell you that my body got taken over by some barbarian Viking-wannabe who then took it out to play, can I? Right.
So, "Yeah, glad to be back. House needed lots of work, been going all day. Beer hits the spot perfect!"
Gareth: The punters stand up to leave then ... droppin' a quite sizeable tip on the bar, fair play to 'em. I walk 'em to the door, wavin' a bit an' then lockin' it up tight behind 'em. "Doan worry, yeh can stay as long as yeh like. Just doan want nobody else wanderin' in this late. 'sides, now I can join yeh for a drink." I'm just about to pull out the Bush when I hear the four short raps on the kitchen door. "That'd be my boy. 'scuse me just a minute."
When I open the door, a blast a' cold night air rushes in. An' when I pull Jaybird to me, his skin feels so cool I just wanna lay against him. But all I can give 'im is one long lingerin' kiss before pullin' away. "We've got company, love." I give his shirtsleeve a wee tug as I start back up front, addin' "Man, it's hot in here. Leave the door open, why doan yeh, get some air goin'." Back up front I slide back behind the bar and pass by the Bush to reach for the Johnny Walker instead, pourin' two glasses an' pushin' one towards my boy. "Jay, this is Karl ... Karl, Jay."
Jay: As I run my hand across Gareth's neck, I'm surprised to feel just how hot and damp it is. Makes me more than a little hot myself to be able to smell his sweat as his tongue wraps around mine...mmmm, he's closed up shop already, no harm in distractin' him for a while...
Wait, what? Company? Dave stop by for a late drink or somethin'? He's the only other guy I know Gareth'd let in after hours, and I pout at bit as Gareth pulls away from me and asks me to keep the door open. Fuckin' A, he coulda told me that 'fore getting' me all riled up like that...
I take my stool at the bar 'fore lookin' at our guest, and there's somethin' bout this guy that makes me do a double-take. It's not just the fact that this fella is fuckin' hot, but there's somethin' more than a little familiar 'bout the shape of his nose, the sharpness of his eyes..."Jay, this is Karl ... Karl, Jay."
Karl...Karl...where have I seen you before...the picture in Dad's study of him, Paris, Miranda, and him on the Edoras set... Karl Urban! Holy shit!
I extend my hand to Karl, and give him a crooked grin, "Nice to finally meet you, man." Karl gives me an odd look, and as I pull out my pack of smokes I explain, "you know my Dad. Bernard Hill. You two were in those Rings movies together. The old man's told me a bit 'bout you. He'll be glad to know you're in town."
Karl: I watch the bartender cuddling with a another cute one and realize that he's taken. Ah, well, it was just an instinctive response to a good-lookin' guy anyways.
Then Gareth is introducing us and I'm shocked. I didn't know Bernard's son was all grown up! Brings home to me how long ago actually filming Rings was. Thought the boy was in New York anyways. I guess he grew up and came here. And grew up a fine looking kid at that. Uh, let's not go there, feels weird to be thinking that type of thing about the kid of one of my closest friends. (And where's he been hiding you?)
So I grin at you, friendly-like.
"Pleased to meet ya. I thought Bernard's boy was younger. I've been meaning to call your old man, but got sorta sidetracked. How's he doing?"
Gareth: Well fuck me! This is another of them fuckin' hobbity fellas. Shoulda fuckin' known, friend a' Dave's an' all. For fuck's sake, was everbody in this fuckin' country in that fuckin' movie? I steal a fag from Jaybird an' light it up as I listen to 'em talkin', wonderin' if he's gonna shift into one of 'em. Wonder who he was anyway. Damn, I really am gonna have to watch those someday, ain't I? When I got like a million hours to kill. Arrah, a million hours on the couch wi' my boy, could be worse ...
My thoughts are interrupted by the sound a' the back screen slammin'. Must be that goddamn cat from next door slippin in again. Last time she got in she made out wi' a whole fillet a' fish. I rest my smoke in the ashtray an' wink as Jaybird looks up a' me. "Right back." I push through the door cursin' tha' goddamn cat, I'm gonna toss her so far she won't ever think a' comin' ba --
This ain't no cat. Standin' in front a' me are a bunch a' dodgy lookin' fellas, lookin' like poncy Metallica heads all dressed in black, wi' their greasy long hair an' their tats all up their arms an' piercin's comin' outta every spare inch a' skin. They're just a bunch a' punkass kids, maybe a little younger'n me, look like scrawny little shites save for the determined look on their faces an' the weapons they're packin'. I glance over 'em quick, one, two, three, four, five five punkass kids, two with cricket bats an' another wi' a big length a' chain tha' he jostles in his hand menacingly. The one closest to me, the one wi' the bat in his hand, he lashes out an' smashes a tray a' pint glasses at the exact same moment that I call out. "Jaybird!" Not sure if he'll even hear me above the crash. But before the shards even hit the floor, my boy's there beside me.
Jay: "Dad's doin' fine," I grin at Karl as my boy disappears into the kitchen. Figure it best to let the old man tell him 'bout the hospital and Theoden and all that other shit if he wants, considerin' I don't even know if Karl is one of those shiftin' folks. 'sides, that's Dad's business now, not mine. "he's got this ranch-type house up on--"
"Jaybird!"
I'm off my stool and boltin' to the kitchen a split second 'fore I hear the ear-splittin' crash of breakin' glass. I've never heard Gareth sound like that, sharp and angry and --fuck-- just a little afraid, and I know somethin' fuckin' serious is goin' down as I barrel though the door...
Oh fuck me.
Two bats, one chain, and two unknowns. Shit. They could be packin' anythin' from fists to mace to guns. And I left my jacket at home with the Raven 25. Cal in it. Fuck! And suddenly they're all lookin' at me with these really surprised looks on their ugly ass faces, and my heart goes cold as I realize they weren't expectin' Gareth to have company tonight. They were plannin' on bustin up the bar. Bustin' up my boy. And that thought sends such a cold thrill of rage through me I don't even think twice when I throw my head down and launch myself at the fucker in front of me with a yell before he has a chance to recover from his shock. My fist sinks into his gut so hard I can feel the wind leave his lungs in a hot, noisy rush, and as he's doubled over I follow up with a sharp uppercut to his jaw. He drops the bat as he goes down, and as I make a scan to check out the rest of the scene I see Karl come through the kitchen door, lookin' more than a little surprised at what he's walked into.
Karl: The bartender shrieks and Jay bolts for the back, fast as I've ever seen anyone move. Doesn't sound good, and I hesitate for a split second, but I may not know them, but they're friends of friends, so I'm right behind Jay.
I have just enough time to see that it's five on three, not bad odds, when Jay launches himself at one of 'em. What the fuck, don't know what I'm getting into here, but a fight never bothered me before and I'm not about to let it start.
I wade in on the other side of Gareth, fists flying. I land a few good ones before these assholes seem to realize I'm in it. One of 'em starts swinging a chain at me, shit. But it's a kitchen, got to be something. I grab a frying pan, fending the chain off, trying to get close enough to do some damage. Two on Gareth, let's play nice now, fuckers. I get one of them on a backswing with the pan and he reels but doesn't go down.
Pain blossoms along my side. Chain-guy connected while I was distracted. Now I'm pissed. Time to get nasty.
Gareth: Before I can even blink, we're in the midst of a brawl wi' these fuckers. The first crack a' yer man's bat connects wi' my arm as I block my head, sendin' a dull shudderin' ache up to my shoulder. But it's repaid in full wi' my fist righ' in his jaw, hard enough it shoulda sent 'im flyin' back aways ... but it doan. He's still righ' here, wi' some other fucker who's tossin' some really amateurish jabs. Still, wi' the both of 'em goin' at me it's none too pleasant.
This guy wi' the bat's the one botherin' me, gotta take 'em out. An' he's fightin' dirty, so wha' the hell. Out a' the corner a' my eye I see Karl wallop the one wi' a fryin' pan. While he's distracted, I plant a hard boot into the other one's shin. There, tha' sent him back just long enough for me to follow up wi' a hard punch to his face. He tries to swing at me again, but there ain't too much force in it. Good, he's gettin' worn down, now I can finish 'im off. Comin' up under the bat I land two, three, four good hard blows to his gut. He doan fight back, but he doan fall either. More punches, to his stomach, his face ... fuck me, this guy should be goin' down by now...
Just then I'm grabbed from behind, an arm snakin' 'round my throat an' pullin' me back. It's that other fuck. I wriggle my head free just enough that I can sink my teeth, hard enough to break skin, into the tattoo ... fuck me, into the brand on his arm. Wha' kinda fuckers are these anyway? Apparently they still do feel some pain tho, for he yelps and loosens his hold as I thrust my elbow hard into his belly. He drops me, but just as I'm turnin' to see how my boy's farin', my body's hammered wi' hard wood, so hard across my belly it knocks the wind outta me and I stagger back, righ' into the arms a' tha' branded one. Fuckin' great. He grabs my arms righ' as the other fucker comes at me again wi' the bat...
Jay: I turn just in time to see Gareth take a bat to the gut, and the surge of black fury coursin' through me is enough to numb me from the fear as I watch him fall right into another punk's grasp. The fucker I took down is startin' to find his feet again, but that don't matter now as I move faster than I ever have before 'cause nothin' matters now but gettin' between my boy and that bat that fuckin' bat swingin' down down at his head as I jump the last few feet and grab the asshole by his shirt, pushin' him away from Gareth.
But momentum keeps the bat swingin', and it connects with my shoulder with a sickenin' thud hard enough to drop me to my knees. Asshole takes advantage of it, and before I can move his knee nails me in the face, and hot pain explodes in my nose as it connects squarely. I can't help but double over for a moment, and it's just enough for guy to land another blow with the bat on my back. OK, this is fuckin' enough! From my position on the floor I see a large pipe loose under the sink, looks like cook was meanin' to do some repairs. With a rush of adrenaline born of pain I grab the pipe and swing hard, and am rewarded with a yell as the hard metal connects with yieldin' flesh. I look up and swing again, this time bringin' it across the fucker's knee, and it don't take his cry of pain for me to know I've broken his kneecap. I push my advantage, and as he goes down to join me on the floor, I whack him on the back of the head. He hits the ground, and I crack down one, two, three times before he stops movin', and I pick up the bat he's left. What the fuck? They drew pictures on their bats in marker? What kind of freaks are these?
But I don't have time to think about it as I see some fuck with chains comin' at Karl not five feet away, and I take a gamble as I lurch to my feet. "KARL!" I yell, and when he looks up I toss the bat handle-first to him, prayin' I don't hit him.
Karl: I turn the pan edge on and start swinging it. Works good as a defensive weapon, but I'm not getting any closer to taking the guy out with it. The chain is leaving dents in the pan, shit, this guy's not playing around! He's connected a few times and I felt something give in my side, but I ignore the pain, afraid of what happens otherwise. I'm flailing at him for all I'm worth, and finally get the chain to fly around the pan and get stuck. I pull the fucker forward intending to lay 'im out with my fist, but then I see his arm and it stops me cold.
I've seen that enough, Richard and his picky detail shit. Black speech, fucking Black speech tattoo. These assholes are some Middle Earth fanboys gone wrong then. But that makes no sense, why go for Gareth? He wasn't involved in the movies.
He's getting loose while I've been trying to figure it out.
Somebody yells my name and it's Jay, finally giving me a weapon I can use. He throws me a bat and I flash back to swordplay with crazy Viggo, who insisted on playing "catch the sword." I put my hand up and the bat thumps into it cleanly.
I swing the bat on the guy who I've still got trapped. It connects solidly with his head, makes an odd little sound and he drops. I kick him for good measure and then muscle memory kicks in and I've gone someplace else, hoping I don't hit friends instead of foe, but I'm out of control.
Gareth: The blow I was bracin' for doan come, Jaybird's there instead takin' the blow meant for me. I struggle wi' the fucker holdin' me, fucker yeh'll pay for not lettin' me get to my boy, but before I can break free Jaybird's taken the other one out. An' this fuck holdin' me ... with a solid jerk back my head connects wi' his nose an' I hear a crack, an' then a moan. He drops me an' staggers back, blood tricklin' through his fingers as he clutches his broken nose. "Skai," he mutters, as I go at him again. I've got his back up against the wall now, an' I'm just peltin' away at his stomach, until finally, he falls to his knees an' is still.
I turn back, outta the corner a' my eye Karl's goin' at another one like a madman, looks like he's doin' a fine job. Jaybird's ... fuck, he's bleedin' too, tho it ain't stoppin' him from pummellin' another a' these fellas. I start over towards 'em when a rack a' canned goods comes tumblin' down on top a' me head. "What the fuck?" Shite, it's the other one of 'em, goddamn it I'd lost track of 'em all, like fuckin' rats comin' outta the woodwork. This one's standin' there now, a nasty grin on his face. This was one a' the unarmed ones. Least he was unarmed. Now I see he's holdin' Cook's knife in his hand, one a' the big ones. I back away an' find that rollin' choppin' block thing behind me -- always hated that cart for bein' in my way, but now I'm ready to kiss it. I wheel it 'round me an' smash it into yer man's gut, right as he lashes out his knife. A flash a' sharp burnin' pain lances my righ' arm, but I shut it from my mind. Canna think of it now, now I'm just intent on crushin' him hard as I can into the wall. He crashes hard an' drops the knife; as it clatters harmlessly to the ground I hear his words. "Lul Gijak-Ishi!" I've heard those words before. But these guys ain't like tha' one, not nearly as tough. But it sure sounded like ...
Distracted for just a minute, I let him push the cart back enough to wiggle loose. I manage to kick the knife outta his reach before he can grab for it, far under the counter, and in anger he turns to me with another growl. Grabbin' me by the shirt, rippin' my Nico shirt yeh fuckin' bastard,, he pushes me back hard against the wall. He's so close I can smell the anger an' bile on his breath, see the tattoo of a black crown around his neck. He's so close I canna get leverage for a good blow. But I can reach his face. He's got this ring in his eyebrow, stupid fuck, an' before he knows wha's happenin' it's no longer in his eyebrow, it's in my hand, an' I let it drop to the floor as he backs away an' wails.
Jay: I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth, and am surprised to see just how much blood there is. My nose is throbbin' somethin' fierce and I know I should do somethin' to stop the bleedin' soon, but I don't have no time as I hear a crash from inside the bar itself. Fuck! One of them made it in!
I dart a look at Karl and Gareth, and it seems they have shit under control here, so I dart through the swingin' door in time to watch that first fuck I bowled over swipe his bat across the bottom row of bottles behind the bar. A malicious smile crawls across his face as the glass shatters and liquid splashes everywhere.
"Hey pussy-bitch!" I yell as I march towards him, fire leapin' in my eyes as I swing the pipe ominously, "ya wanna play, motherfucker?" I grab a half-empty glass pitcher from a table Gareth hadn't had a chance to bus yet, and with all my strength hurl it at the punk's head, ignorin' the lance of pain from where the other guy's bat connected. Punk sees it comin' a mile off, and just as I suspected, asshole swings at it with his bat. I close my eyes and duck my head as shards of glass go flyin' through the air, but it was enough to distract him so I can close the distance with him. He gains his bearin's enough to barely block the swing of my pipe with his bat, but it leaves him open to my fist that lands hard in his side. Fuckin' A, I must be getting' tired, 'cause that don't even faze him as he brings his bat around for another swing. Dude, I'm getting' sick of this shit! I'm close enough to grab his wrist with my free hand, and bang his arm against the bar, but scrawny though he is he's not one to give up his weapon easy, clutchin' it tight in his tatooed hand...dude, it looks like he's tattooed armor on his hand...looks like a gauntlet or somethin'....
That moment of wonderin' costs me, as his knee jerks up into my groin, dirty fucker, and blindin' pain blossoms so raw and full I almost vomit on my way down. It hurts so bad I don't even really feel it as I land on my side and shards of broken glass embed themselves in my arm, all I can do is try to breathe through the pain. And when I feel the first blow of the bat on my shoulder, all I can do is try to roll out of the way, feelin' more glass sink in, and pray to god this passes quick or I'm a fuckin' dead man.
Karl: I'm gettin' tired of these fuckers not staying down! God dammnit, why can't they give up? The bat is gettin' heavy, I need something else.
Hadn't noticed it, seems Gareth and I had worked our way together, and been fightin' back to back. These assholes don't seem too smart, don't figure out a way to divide and conquer. But, holy shit, they just keep on.
I hear Gareth's steady cursing under his breath and it dawns on both of us at the same time that we're missing a few playmates. And where the fuck is Jay?
Gareth lets out this moan and starts to move, but I grab him. "No, we gotta stay together. Something's weird."
Gareth: Oh, yer man's pissed about his eyebrow, but he ain't gone for another weapon, not yet. I glance around an' the only thin' at hand's the pastry counter, an' on it sits Cook's heavy rollin' pin. I grab it an' bash yer man good wi' it, wallopin' him in the side a' the face. Blood seeps out onto the wood, Cook'll fuckin' kill me for that, but it's enough to stun the bastard for a second. Long enough for me to bash 'im again, an' again, forcin' him backwards until he slips an' falls on the tins that he fuckin' pulled down. "Serves yeh fuckin' right." I kick 'im then, somethin' strangely satisfyin' 'bout the feel a' my boots connectin' repeatedly wi' his flesh, somethin' makin' the pain tricklin' down warm outta my arm feel not quite so bad as my boots hit first somethin' soft, then hard, then breakin' through to soft again...
I stop for a second to get my breath. Just long enough for me to first realise Jaybird ain't here, an' then to hear the smash a' bottles from the bar. "Wha' the fuck..." I start out there withou' thinkin', but Karl grabs me, tells me to stay wi' him. Man, yeh doan understand, tha's my boy out there, that's my bar, I gotta go. But he's right, somethin' is weird. These scrawny shites shoulda been long gone by now. We've taken out the three now, this one wi' the chain's a tough fucker, but if we get 'im out to the front it'll be the three of us against two. "C'mon then." Takin' the chance yer man wi' the chain'll follow, I yank my head at Karl. An' as we pass the mise I grab another a' Cook's knives. No time to fish the big butcher knife's out from under the counter, but Cook's six-inch chef's knife'll do me just fine. An' good man, he keeps 'em nice an' sharp, which I've never been as thankful for as I am when I round the corner an' see my boy there, crumbled behind my bar, surrounded by broken bottles, an' this fuck raisin' his bat to strike 'im again. I let out a bloodcurdlin' scream as I charge towards him, jammin' the knife hard as I can into his back, turnin' it a little just to feel the twinge a' pain in my own arm. He swings around towards me an' catches me wi' the bat, wouldna hurt too bad, him bein' off kilter an' all, 'cept it catches me right where I was slashed. Least I manage to hang on to the knife, slippin' it outta his back an' lookin' for another openin' to jam it in again. Just get him the fuck outta the way so I can check on my boy.
Jay: I manage to dodge the next two blows, but the third connects with my hip hard enough to make me hiss...which means I'm startin' to get myself back...startin' to feel the dozens of cuts across my arm...and I know I gotta stand up again, but this greaseball ain't gonna give me the chance as I try to reach up for the counter and he barely misses my finger with the tip of his bat. Motherfucker! I just need three seconds, three seconds to stand...
Gareth's scream cuts through me sharper than the knife he's holdin', and I almost lose my opportunity. I'm utterly frozen by the look of pure hate on his face as he stabs bat-boy in the back...and the fuck still don't go down. As he reels up to hit Gareth again, I take a deep breath, and plantin' my hands on floor I kick up as hard as I can, pushin' so hard it hurts to land again. But it works, as the punk staggers, droppin' the bat, and slams into the shelves behind the bar, slicin' his hands up as he tries to catch himself on the slippery, glass strewn ledge. I'm too beat up to move fast, but Gareth's on the punk, his boot connectin' with the asshole's face once, twice, three, four times, 'fore I manage to stagger over to them. Grabbin' the handle of a broken bottle of Jack off the floor, I plant my knee into the fuck's chest as I nab him by his long, tangled hair. I pull his head back, pressin' the broken glass against his throat hard enough to make the blood start wellin' through his weird neck tattoo, "You so much as breathe funny, motherfucker and I'll slice you open like the piece of shit you are you ugly sonofabitch!" I press in deeper for extra measure, grinnin' blackly as he squirms once, then stills as he realizes I mean fuckin' it.
My eyes don't leave him, though more than anythin' I wanna look up to see if Gareth and Karl are OK, and to thank my boy for savin' my ass. But I can't give this jerk-off a chance to get away, not if we can't knock him out easy. 'sides, I ain't worth much no more, fucked up as I am, as the adrenaline slowly ebbs from my system. Been far too long since I've been in a fight this brutal for this long. I'm gettin' more than a little dizzy, which makes me take an odd sort of pleasure watchin' my blood slowly drip into the punk's battered face. I ask out loud to both Gareth and Karl, hopin' I don't sound as tired as I feel, "how many more we got left?"
Karl: I wipe sweat and hair outa my face, stings, I guess I'm hurt some. Didn't even know it. Shit! Gareth stabbed that motherfucker and he still wouldn't go down. Time to stop playing pussy. Jay's yelling about our numbers, I take stock. Chain-guy's still after me, Jay's got a broken bottle to one of them, and the other three didn't follow us out of the back. I grab a chair and start swinging, so pumped I don't even think about it. This one's got to go. He falls for the chain trap again, dumb fuck, catch his chains in the chair. Gareth sneaks up behind him and breaks a bottle over his head and while he's reeling from that, I dump a table over on him and jump on it for good measure.
I stand for a moment, catching my breath.
But then I watch as the table starts heaving, and then I hear sirens. Chain-guy jumps up and runs for the back, let him go. The cavalry's coming. I wipe the sweat, oh shit, and blood, too, I guess, off my face and get ready to talk to the plods.
Jay: "Stop your squirmin', pendejo," I hiss at the guy under me, and resist the temptation to look up when I hear a crash followed by Karl's triumphant grunt. Man's not bad in a fight, not bad at all. I can see now why they chose him to be Éomer...
A chillin' sound cuts through the fog of my thoughts, and I can't help but look up as I hear sirens approachin'. Shit! Instinctual panic seizes me, and I feel like a deer in the headlights as the sound gets louder. I gotta get outta here, can't let 'em find me in a brawl with the record I got...
That split second freeze is all the punk needs, and before I can stop him he knocks the bottle outta my hands and shoves me off him hard 'nough to send me sprawlin'. I manage to land without stabbin' myself more on the glass, and I'm too fuckin' exhausted to give more than a feeble grab as the asshole lurches for the back door.
Suddenly, Gareth's at my side, and I lock eyes with him as he helps me to my feet. "Gotta get back home..." I whisper as I lean against him, "don't let 'em know I was here." He nods, understandin' why I need to get outta here, and though I wanna grab him to me, make sure he's really OK, I've only got seconds to make my break, "be careful, my boy."
I pass by Karl as I make my exit, and I manage a crooked grin, "not bad at all, horseboy. Without you here...well fuck. Thanks, man. We owe you one." And with that I scram as fast as I can, tryin' not to limp on the leg that took the full bat shot.
Gareth: I see the look a' surprise from Karl as Jaybird leaves. Better explain it to 'em an' quick 'fore the gardai show. "Man, if yeh could, doan mention Jay bein' here. Nothin' bad, it's just ... complicated." I hope he trusts me, tho why he would, after meetin' me just once before, an' me gettin' him mixed up in this tonigh', I ain't got a clue. Still, "fuck, man, I'm sorry 'bout this, but am I ever fuckin' glad yeh were here. Dunno wha' woulda happened without yeh. An' nice move wi' that table." I grin at yeh as I turn to look at the overturned table, but my grin rapidly fades to see the damage done to my poor bar. Fuck, Chris is gonna kill me.
The cops come in then to take our statements, an' I ask one of 'em to give Chris a call. An' then I start spinnin' the tale a' how Karl an' I were sittin' alone, havin' a quiet drink, when the five of 'em show up. They look a bit suspicious about us doin' away wi' all five of 'em, but I explain that they weren't toughs, just scrawny kids lookin' to do some damage. No point in mentionin' tha' they spoke in the same language as tha' guy who's nearly killed me twice, an' then returned from the dead. Doan think that tidbit'll help 'em locate the suspects.
They're tryin' to convince me to go to the hospital when Chris shows up, a look a' despair on his face. I feel awful about the damage, kickin' myself for leavin' the door unlocked, an' I tell 'im that as I explain what happened. He just shakes his head, says tha's wha' insurance is for, and asks if I'm alrigh'. I tell 'em I am, tho when I wince as he touches my arm I can tell he doan believe me. An' when he holds up his hand smeared wi' blood an' gives me a questionin' glare, I lean in close. "Man, I gotta get home. Jay was here too, doan want the gardai to know but he's hurt an' I gotta see to 'em." He nods, good man, I know he'll keep our secret.
An it looks like they're just about done questionin' Karl too. Soon as I can I go over to 'im. "C'mere to me, we really should see to yer face, looks like yeh busted yer lip there." We go back to the kitchen sink an' I dig the first aid kit out from under the bar an' hand it to 'im. "Here yeh go, man. It doan look too bad atall. Shouldn't hurt yer actin' career atall."
Karl: Could be worse I guess. Has been worse before. I clean up most of the blood, enough so that I won't cause comment between here and home. Fuck, I'm tired, just want to hit the rack.
I crack a smile at Gareth, even thought it hurts like a son of bitch. "If it's ruined, I'm coming after you! Just invite me to the party when you get the place cleaned and buy me a few drinks, that'll square us."
I shudder at what could have happened to them if I hadn't wandered by when I did. I know Bernard well enough to know he'd never get over it, if something happened to his son. They're both so fucking young, but handle themselves like pros. I'm vaguely curious about the deal with Jay, but too bloody knackered to care overmuch.
I grit my teeth on the ride home, never noticed the bike being so rough. Gonna hurt in the morning.
An interesting turn of events. The fools thought it would be simple to destroy this alehouse, this meeting place for the forces of good in this city. Still they do not fathom the powers opposing Morgoth, their "God." This idea of Lord Morgoth as a "god" amuses me. Their puny minds cannot conceive of him as he really is. As if Morgoth could be constrained as a god. The gods have power only over what they create. Morgoth reached beyond that, for the powers untouchable, and for what the Valar viewed as jealousy and arrogance he was struck down. But they were the jealous ones, for they coveted his power and what they could not have they wanted to hold from him. And they were the arrogant ones, to think that he could be banished forever. For ever his strength grows and his followers -- even such as these thirteen fools -- they will grow in power until the day when his might will be restored. And then places like this alehouse will burn with his full fury.
I watch from the darkness as these five slip out, one by one, and make their way back to the others. Perhaps next time they will send their full number. They are but weak men, even under the protection of Lord Morgoth, but together they would be stronger. And strength is what we need in this war.
I turn to go, but turn back to watch another stumble through the shadows to his home. He is injured, the blood and fear and adrenaline enters my senses like a warm caress. I could so easily destroy him, weary and beaten as he is. But I do not. Morgoth has plans yet for this one.
