Who: Turin and Beleg What: Beleg breaks the news he's moving away. Turin drags him out for drinks. One ruined bar later, Beleg misses his flight and the pair ends up in jail When: Sunday night? Where: A bar, then the clink
Knock a knock, knock knock!
Turin stood outside Beleg’s door, wearing jeans and a comfortable shirt. He also had on rugged shoes. He thought it was his turn to drag Beleg out into the wilderness for an afternoon.
Ahhh that might make for an interesting time given present circumstances. Beleg's door opened since he had no real concept of fully closing it or locking it, to reveal the elf placing some items into a bag. His bow and quiver were on his back, and he looked ready to depart! But to where? That was the question!
He tilted his head. “...Your packing. Planning a trip? That’s a fortuitous coincidence, I wanted to take you alone in the woods.”
That sounded wrong.
"Alas! While I assure you that seems like an enjoyable time, I regret that I can not," Beleg said, good naturedly not thinking that it might imply sexy times. Which we all know was so not intended. He smiled and shook his head. "I was going to send you a message on the network. I am going on a hunting trip, where I will be deep and away in the jungles, where there are no networks and no connections. And where I will endeavor not to let anything vicious eat my face off."
“Alone? Without me?” Turin furrowed his brow, feeling genuinely upset. Leave it to his life to throw him something bad to counter all the good in it. What was next, getting Yuri pregnant? Pregnancy led to death....
"I do not think you would want to travel into Papua New Guinea, since you are due to be wedded," Beleg replied, looking a little sheepish. "There are still areas left unexplored, and we have received the government's permission as long as I only kill in self-defense and do not harm any other protected creature. I think this is better though, my friend! For if we are to part ways, it should be face to face, to properly wish one another well."
“Not for many months,” Turin pointed out. That seemed pretty far and his shoulders fell a little bit. “I’m going to miss you. Would that you did not have to leave. Surely you can’t put it off longer? How will I let you know I need my best man?”
"I have ever wished well upon those who are wedded and I know she is the right person for you, Turin." Here, Beleg paused to smile kindly and reassuringly at his friend. "If I did not feel as though you will be well and that she will help guide you on your path from this point forward, then I would not be comfortable with a departure. I believe both things have come to pass, and I was never one for wedded bliss."
Beleg would forever swerve to avoid all signs of the dreaded balls-n-chains which led inevitably to nuptials or commitments. It didn't interest him as much as a hunt or tracking did, and his heart always longed for the dark woods and other wild places.
“I wanted you at my side. You’ve always been there...” He clapped his hand on Beleg’s shoulder, and squeezed. “Who will be my best man now?”
"You will find another. I feel it is time to let go of all old things," was Beleg's kindly offered advice, as one of his hands rested on Turin's shoulder. "Those dreams have no bearing on what will happen hereafter. I felt with mine, that we were going to part ways, for we disagreed. But let us not part ways now in disagreement! Know I will always love you as a brother, even as I am having my face eaten off by lions, tigers, and bears. Oh my."
“You’re my best friend.” Turin stared at him, eyes sad and soulful. “I’m sorry that I stabbed you. But I’ll stab you again if you get yourself hurt.”
Beleg was blissfully unaware that the dreams were going to head in that direction. If he left the area, there was a good chance that - maybe, possibly - he might not ever have that dream of dying at Turin's hands, which would break his Elven heart.
Even so, he too looked sad for a moment, but it was his innate optimism and hope for the best, that carried him forward through life, no matter how long that life was going to last.
"And you are mine. No other in the world will hold such a title, and we will each carry it, wherever we shall go. It is the knowing of that, which will see us both through dark times. I assure you! I have no want to injure myself more than I have in the past, and I bear no ill will against you, for stabbing at me. I would not, should you stab me a million and one times!"
Oh my.
“You bastard.” Turin punched him lightly in the shoulder, and laughed. “When do you leave? Do you have time for a drink? I want to give you a proper send off.” and maybe end up in the clink for drunken and disorderly conduct. He wanted to make sure that Beleg would remember him.
"I have but a few hours," Beleg said with a shrug and a sheepish grin. Ending up in jail was not going to happen, because Beleg might be a barrel of fun and adventure, but he had adventure awaiting him, and the call of the wild was strong enough to keep him out of trouble. Temporarily! When the plane landed and he was on his own, that would be another story, entirely. "It is a pity you can not join me! Maybe someday, you will be able to. We will meet somewhere in the middle of Africa, and dine on roasted gazelles."
Which were sure to draw in things with claws and teeth, but oh well? It's the thought that counts!
“A few hours is long enough. Are you sure gazelles taste good roasted. They look like they need a long long cooking time to make tender.” Turin attempted a joke.
"They're a little stringy," was Beleg's reply, in full seriousness. He even made a little pick-at-his-teeth motion with a pinkie finger, for emphasis. "Let us begone and have a farewell drink together, ere I depart!"
“Something tells me you’ll be able to drink me under the table,” Turin remarked.
Beleg smiled with such intensity, it might have been possible to see even his gleaming white molars. All of which - miraculously enough considering his million and one injuries and brushes with death - were intact.
"I will see to it you are placed into a cab and ushered home," he replied, giving Turin a confident thumbs up, "then make haste most verily to the airport! Well before your future wife has time to lodge a complaint."
Boys will be boys, even if one of the boys is an Elf.
Turin flashed him one of those rare grins. A genuine one, and the kind that he made when he felt the darkness receding. He’d never be a happy-go-lucky person, and he’d always feel unlucky...but he could be happy, if he let himself. “Let her lodge a complaint, we could use some discord in our lives.”
"Let that be the one and only discord you experience for the rest of your days," said Beleg, as though it was a blessing. "You have had too much strife, and now is the time when you should experience the good things that life has to offer, and worry not about the shadows. They are lesser concerns. Go forth, be light of heart! And let us drink because all this packing has made me thirsty and I require more beer than you can ever imagine."
“Life being too easy is always a bit of a concern,” Turin countered, but he was grinning. “Lets put an entire bar to shame.”
"Let us do so!" Beleg made no move to remove his bow or quiver, so it's going to look like he was a ren faire reject, yet again. Only he is so not. With a clap on the back that could have sent a full grown cow staggering, Beleg made his way to the door. "The barkeep shall rue the day we set foot in his establishment!"
Turin though that he might, too!
So did Beleg! And so, off they went to a bar, set on drinking their fill and celebrating.
Doom.
Thirty minutes later, Turin was seating himself at the bar and holding up two fingers to order two of the hardest drinks they had. He wanted Beleg’s last day to be a good last day.
Assuming either remembered it.
The unfortunate thing was that Beleg would vividly remember it, but Turin might have a few blank spots where his memories were concerned. Even so, he sat by his friends side, grinning like a total complete idiot.
"Mayhap you should order us doubles," so sayeth Beleg, wise Elf that he was. He is being so foresightful!
“Make that triples,” Turin decided. “triples for my friend here and doubles for me. I know you’ll outdrink me, but we’ll see if we can’t get you a little tipsy.”
Good luck with that!
"I think that is a most wise idea, my friend!" so sayeth more from Beleg, who gleefully doesn't know how wrong this night might turn out. "If there are quadruples, perhaps I should try that as well!"
Oh, Beleg.
The bartender stared at them, then started pouring drinks like it was their funeral. He shook his head, and slung the first two down the bar. Turin caught his and knocked it back, feeling immediately dizzy. “That is some strong, strong stuff.”
He turned on the stool to look around. “They have darts and other games.”
Beleg had caught his like a total boss, downed it like a pro, and then looked at the darts and pool tables. His eyes lit up, because he knew that he would be kicking ass and taking names, considering his Elvish metabolism.
"So they do! How about we have a friendly wager?"
“And what shall we wager, and what shall the contest be?” Turin brough his drink to his lips and regarded his friend with a friendly smile.
"Darts, so we might test our aim. Let us start with small increments of money," Beleg said after thinking it would be good, harmless fun, "and then I think we shall embark into the wonderful world of embarrassing stunts."
At least the Elf wouldn't be drunk when he boarded the plane!
Three hours later, there were darts all over the dartboard, the wall, and behind the bar. There were also nearly thirty arrows in various parts of the bar, including the big screen tv, and Turin was having a drunken standoff with a table leg and a particularly annoying biker.
Sirens approached.
At some point, Beleg had lost his pants. The sad thing about this entire situation was the fact he was entirely stone cold sober, except for some profoundly tingly fingers and a stupid smile that looked to be permanently smeared over the lower half of his face. The fingers were the direct cause of his bad aim. The smile? Maybe because he was debating joining a nudist colony. Whatever. He's an Elf. They're woodsy. He isn't wearing pants. No big.
The sirens? That was big.
Stupid smile still in place, Beleg's eyes grew round as saucers as he took stock of their surroundings. This was bad. Very bad. There was only a little time before his flight departed, which only complicated matters. He quickly made his way to Turin's side, placing what he hoped was a calming hand on his friend's shoulder, to get his attention.
"Turin, we must make haste lest we are thrown into a cell, and reminded that we should not drop the soap. Unless one is into that and then tis an acceptable endeavor.” There was an extremely brief pause before Beleg flatly stated, “I would like you to know, that I am not into that."
“I’m not drunk nough for that,” Turin slurred, leaning on Beleg and trying to make for the nearest exit, which seemed to be filled with at least a dozen cops. He blinked his eyes and there were only … four. “Maybe nosh thash way.”
“Maybe not.” Beleg blinked at the four cops, tried to ignore the fact that his bow and empty quiver were strapped to his back, and attempted to engage the police as politely as possible, "Sirs, methinks this is not what it looks like and I will pay for the damages. My friend and I had a wager regarding aim, and we were passing the bow to and fro. It started only as a celebration of my departure and his impending marriage. Perhaps I might write a check, offer to clean up, and we can be done with this business?"
There. Totally civil and reasonable and polite. Go Beleg! Why don't more people listen to you?
One of the cops pointed a taser at Beleg. “Take the weapons off!”
Turin held up his hands. “Ish kay ossifer. He’s a licensed hunter!”
"I'm a licensed hunter," agreed Beleg, smiling like he really hoped he wasn't about to be tasered by a law enforcement officer. "I'm on a web series. Beleg Cuthalion: Big Bow Hunter! You can look it up on the internet. Tis like Crocodile Hunter, except that sometimes I hunt and eat the animals, and other times they try to eat me. I can provide my identification card if you'd like to see for yourself that I am indeed the person I claim to be."
“Weapons down!” The officer shouted again, taking a step forward and looking about as nervous as if he was facing a crocodile. “On the ground!”
Turin straightened. “I bow to no one!” He was promptly tasered.
"Uhh Turin, I do not think...." And Beleg wisely let Turin go so that he was not tasered along with his unfortunately drunk and too proud friend. With a sigh, he put the bow and quiver down and knelt down as indicated, though he looked a little resigned. At least he kept his state-issued bow hunting license on him at all times, but this wasn’t exactly the sort of situation that made bow hunting look good. At least it wasn’t concealed? Tee hee? "Please be gentle with my bow, for I need it for my hunting. That is all that I ask, good sirs."
Constructed of purely elvish materials, that bow could probably survive a nuclear apocalypse.
They were led out to a genuine paddy wagon, and Turin muttered something in a faux Irish accent which ended up with him getting tasered, bro. Again.
He slumped against Beleg and slurred. “They don’t like jooookes. Yuriko is going to divoooorce me....”
"They're police officers. They aren't an audience for your standup routine," was Beleg's response. "I liked the joke? And I do not think that Yuriko is going to divorce you? But I do wonder how I let you talk me into such things, for - alas - I will not make my flight to Papua New Guinea."
That’s a fact.
“You can catch another flight. We shouldn’t drop the soap.” Turin straightened, pushing sweat damp hair from his eyes. “I left the sword in the car. Thas. Probably good. It wants me to punch the cop who tasered me.” He snerked. “Okay. We need scape plan.”
"....what?" Beleg asked, looking positively flabbergasted that Turin would even suggest such a thing. "I do not think that is wise. We were at fault, for things did get out of hand. Not to mention, it might not be a good thing to listen to the sword...and they also have my bow."
He was almost entirely certain that if someone called the police to have them arrested for that sort of damage, that a later flight might be out of the question. Instead, he is sitting there in the honest-to-god paddywagon, staring at his BFF like there was dayglow kittens and rainbows spilling out of every hole in his face.
Turin poked a finger into Beleg’s chest. Then poked again. Then sighed and slumped back. “Shis why you shouldn’t gets attashed to people. We could flee into the wilderness like the good old days if I wash alones!”
"That is why I am not attached to anyone!" Beleg exclaimed, but pointed a finger back at Turin, minus the poking. "But I would that what applies to me does not apply to all, or to you! Otherwise...the wilderness would be nice, until things bloweth over...."
He quickly shook his head like that was not an option. He vowed not to let Turin sound so convincing with what was a profoundly bad plan.
"We should await what judgment the authorities see fit to give unto us," counselled Beleg, like that was the wisest course of action, and he hoped Turin would heed his advice.
When did that ever happen?!
Turin launched into a long, complicated plan involving Beleg’s hair, some lipstick he found under the seat and ‘catching them off guard.’. Fortunately for the both of them, Turin lost the lipstick when the paddy wagon hit a bump, and he was halfway through explaining plan B with the door opened.
"Oh, thank you," a profoundly grateful Beleg said to whoever it was that just opened the door and saved him from Plan B. He really hoped Plan C wasn't Leap out and pummel the policemen before they can react, headbutting them into submission, and stealing the paddywagon so they can dump it off at an undisclosed location later on, and go into hiding while wearing disguises. "We are ready for jail, now."
He turned his head oh so slowly and stared at Turin like he really hoped he wouldn't try anything that isn't good. Good, the opposite of bad. Bad is bad. Don't be bad. TYVM.
Turin sighed heavily, and let himself be led off. Plan C was clearly formulating in his head, but it would only work if they were placed in a cell with a midget, a circus clown, and three liters of motor oil. He grinned drunkenly to himself.
Ok, yes. That Plan C is sounding epic awesome. Please let there be those things in the holding cell? Even if Beleg stares at Turin like he's crazy pants, we all know that if Turin started to do something...Beleg would be right by his side.
Of course, Beleg looks like a humiliated elf right about then, as he is hauled away, and - if his ears were capable of doing so - they would be flopping down with shame and disappointment.
The door slid shut behind them, with a resounding clatter. Turin punched the bar, then shook his hand out and cursed vividly. There was no circus clown! Just the midget and something that wasn’t motor oil but smelled foul.