Arthur was pacing--back and forth, back and forth--in his penthouse apartment in upstate New York, occasionally pausing to glance out the wall of windows that enabled him to oversee the city's plethora of lights as he wrung his sweaty hands together to conceal their slight tremor. "That pesky bird should be back by now," he complained to an old, brown bloodhound, who was sprawled lazily on one of the many luxurious couches of the kingly suite. "I give him ONE job. Get me the journal--just ONE little journal--and be back by sundown," he stopped suddenly, wiped an untidy lock of blonde hair back from where it had fallen in front of his eyes, and proceeded to pace.
"Don't worry about it, sir," replied the bloodhound, "Nathan's probably just lost or something...he is a pretty stupid bird. I've told you that a million times."
"Gawaine, do not patronize me. Molly trusted this bird, and therefore--"
"Yeah, well Molly didn't exactly put her trust in the best people, did she?" interrupted Gawaine, "She trusted that scum bag husband of hers to protect her--what's his name...? Orion. And look where that got her."
Arthur's nerves were temporarily overrided by a wave of sorrow as he remembered her mysterious accident...And the way she had sounded on the phone merely hours before its occurance--voice shaky, whispering as if she feared being overheard... Molly had seemed to know that death was waiting on her doorstep preparing to greet her as she confided in Arthur, and gave him the task of keeping their daughter safe. And despite his pleadings for her to trust him, to tell him what was wrong--what was coming for her, she had only told him, "Everything you need to know is in my journal--EVERYTHING. It's of the utmost importance that you read it and use it to defeat," she had paused, and then continued in a practically inaudible whisper, "to defeat my enemies."
"But who are your enemies?" he had begged to know--only to hear with a sense of dreadful finality the crisp click proclaiming that Molly had hung up--on him... on life.
That had been three months ago, and although Arthur had tried his best to recover the journal, it had proved to be an arduous and seemingly impossible task.
He had no clue where the journal was. He couldn't search Molly's house, as he wished to, because of Orion and Ella. Ella was his daughter, true enough, but she didn't know that--she still believed Orion to be her true father. And although Arthur knew he had to tell her sometime, he had held back, not wanting to spoil her chance at a normal life. So, instead of confronting her directly and revealing all of his secrets and baggage, he had sent Nathan to keep watch outside her home and, if he ever spotted anything that might lead to the whereabouts of the enigmatic journal, he was to report straight back to Arthur.
This he had done two days ago--claiming that he had overseen Ella trying to muster up the courage to sneak into her home's long uninhabited attic, simultaneously clutching a blue and gold key which had been dangling around her neck since her mother's accident. Arthur knew that this was no coincidence. "There must be a connection," he had told Gawaine, "The journal MUST be in that attic, locked away somewhere that only THAT key can open."
And so he had instructed Nathan to do whatever it took to recover the journal, even if it meant exposing himself to Ella. He was to be back by sunset, today. And it was getting dark.
"What the devil could be holding him up?" demanded Arthur, talking to himself. "I swear, when that bird gets here I am going to--" but Arthur's angry promise was stopped dead by the sight of a small, flapping figure in the distance. Arthur hardly believed his eyes at first, but due to the city lights' background illumination, the silhouette of a crow was visible and approaching. "There he is!" exclaimed Arthur excitedly, relief starting to spill over the dam of worry that had been like a flood in his mind since the sun went down.
Rushing over to a glass door amongst the glass walls, Arthur eagerly swung it open and stepped aside, allowing Nathan to glide into the living room and land with a resounding thud on a nearby mahogany coffee table.
Arthur rushed over to the crow excitedly and snatched the journal up, hugging it to his chest--a gesture which emphasized the profundity of his relief.
"Well, seems like you actually did it Nathan..." said Gawaine, "I confess, I had my doubts."
The crow responded with a shrill caw! and retorted defensively, "I'm not as stupid as you make me out to be, Gawaine."
"Of course not, but that doesn't mean you aren't a little--" began the hound before Arthur interrupted:
"Stop arguing you two," he ordered, and then, "Nathan, tell me how your trip went."
The bird gave one last look at Gawaine before turning to Arthur and saying, "Well, sir, it was smooth sailin' most of the way...The girl was waiting outside the attic door when I arrived at the house--must 'a been tryin' to work up some courage or something--and then luckily, one of the attic windows was open so I snuck in to wait for her--but of course I tried to shut the window as much as I could so she wouldn't be suspicious. It was really nasty, sir, cobwebs all in my wings and beak...Anyway I watched as she came in and started taking the sheets off of all the old things in there, and then she got to this mirror...and she was looking into it all sad for a minute, and then she got this look on her face like she had just seen a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, and she rushed over to a chest with a lock that matched her key..."
"So I was right," said Arthur proudly, "the key WASN'T a coincidence...Go on."
"So, she opened the chest, took out the journal--admired its shiny suns and moons and stuff, and then I guess I scared her, 'cause I sorta knocked over this punch bowl...and it shattered on the ground pretty loudly..."
Gawaine barked quietly, trying to conceal the short burst of laughter that had escaped his lips. Nathan gave him another look, then proceeded:
"She was holding the journal, so I started to fly towards her to grab it, then thought better of it...but by then she was really freaked out by me--guess she thought I was going for her face and not the journal--and she started to run back to the door but she tripped on something and the thing flew right out of her hand. So I seized the opportunity to grab it--swooped down fast as lightning, I did--and then I went and landed over by the semi-opened window. Then your daughter through a big metal candle holder at me! Can you imagine?"
Gawaine let out another barkish laugh.
"Well you can't say she's not passionate," admired Arthur.
"Yeah, right..." commented Nathan with a tone of offense, then muttered under his breath, "Who cares if the bird gets beheaded by a flying candle holder, right? So long as Arthur's daughter threw it because she was so passionate."
"What was that?" asked Arthur.
"Nothing," replied Nathan quickly, "Anyway, the thing missed me--luckily--and broke a nice, Nathan sized hole in the window, so I just took off out of it, and I've been flying here pretty much ever since..."
"Why did it take you so long to return?" asked Gawaine skeptically.
"What do you mean 'pretty much'?" inquired Arthur.
Nathan shuffled his feet and hung his head as he confessed, "I got a little bit lost on the way back."
"Ha! I knew it!" exclaimed the hound, "What did I tell you sir?"
"It wasn't my fault!" Nathan squawked defensively, "It was nearly sunset when I left with the journal, and my night vision is not what it used to be. So...I stopped to ask someone for directions..."
"You WHAT?" demanded Arthur.
"And what did this person think of you? A talking crow," said Gawaine.
Nathan looked at the hound in disbelief, "You don't really think I'd ask a HUMAN do you? I'm not crazy! No, I asked a fellow bird."
"And was this bird helpful?" asked Arthur.
"Well, he would have been--" began Nathan.
"But the boy never answered him back," said Gawaine gruffly at Arthur's other side.
"Well, yeah," admitted Nathan sheepishly, "Not all birds can talk, you know."
"Lucky for us," commented Gawaine to Arthur, who had started walking over to stand by the wall of windows, journal clutched to his side.
The journal was the only thing he saw, in that moment--the only thing with an ounce of significance. The journal--which he had so desperately sought out--was finally in his grasp. Now all he had to do was read it and come up with a plan to defeat his unknown enemies. With a sigh, he turned back to Gawaine and Nathan, pulling himself out of his introverted state and said, "Come on boys, time to get this ball rolling..."
Unaware that the ball had begun rolling when his daughter had entered the attic and altered the course of their lives forever.
Inspirational Quote of the Day:
"'But the boy never answered him back,' said Gawaine gruffly at Arthur's other side," ~ The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley
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