Quaraun looked at her. She was tall, taller than him, had blonde hair, blue eyes, and light freckles on her cheeks. Her lips were thin and full. She wore a loose, billowing white blouse, long blue skirt, black boots, and a black leather belt. She had the regal air of royalty about her. A queen or a princess, perhaps. She did not move like a commoner.

Quaraun recognized her as the woman whom had run ino him on the street. She was the same woman whom was being chased by the angry men whom had lost her so chased after Quaraun instead, causing him to end up in this very room.

The woman smiled awkwardly at Quaraun, than continued looking frantically around the room. She looked as lost as he felt. Quaraun was used to be lost though and this woman seemed to have never been lost before.

"Did you see them?" she asked Quaraun.

"See who?"

"The Goblins and their war hounds."

"No. I've seen no Goblins here. Nor any war hounds."

"They're coming you know."

"Are they?"

"They were about an hour behind me when I arrived this morning."

"Well, that was many hours ago. Perhaps they passed this village by?"

"I don't think so."

The woman sighed and dropped onto a chair near the fire.

"Perhaps," she said softly, and closed her eyes. Her head drooped forward and for just a moment Quaraun thought she might fall asleep, but then she sat back upright and opened her eyes.

"I must go now," she told Quaraun.

She started to rise, but Quaraun put a hand on her arm.

"Would you mind staying a little longer? At least until you're sure they are truly gone?"

He knew it wasn't much, but he could use company. Especially since he'd found himself in such dire circumstances lately, which was more dangerous than having someone who could actually help him find something. That would just have to do, even if she didn't believe it.

The woman looked at him. Her face lit up slightly with hope, but then she frowned in confusion.

"Do you need something?"

"No. I just... it's lonely. I get lonely. It's nice to have someone to talk to."

"Men usually want more than talking."

"No. I'm a eunuch, you do not have to worry of such things with me."

"A eunuch? I don't think I've ever met one before."

"Can I offer you food?" Quaraun asked, feeling guilty that he had not offered sooner, since the woman was clearly still hungry and tired.

"I don't eat anything except raw meat. Or vegetables, I suppose," the woman responded.

Quaraun nodded and began to search through one of the shelves. In the midst of doing so, he realized she hadn't moved from her seat.

"Oh... Whatever became of the men who were chasing you?"

"Don't know. Don't care. I've got to find the key."

"Key?"

"Yes."

"What key?"

"Shhhh. Let me listen," she hushed him, than placed her ear to the wall.

She paused when she saw the long corridor full of doors, and opened each door, looking into each one of them, and then hurriedly looked around again before leaving. Her blonde hair flew wildly around her shoulders.

Quaraun noted her clothes were torn and dirty, as were her boots and gloves. It appeared she had been running for a while, chased perhaps, and like himself, was looking for a place to hide to escape attackers. Quaraun watched her go.

Finally, she disappeared around the corner. Quaraun frowned. That was strange. Why had she fled? Who chased her? What did she see?

It was quiet now.

No sounds at all.

The still silence of the chilly night air filled the room. Quaraun closed his eyes and rested his head on the table. He fell asleep. For how long, he did not know.

Minutes? Hours?

He could not tell.

A sudden bang made Quaraun jump up wide awake.

“Who goes there?!” someone shouted.

Someone laughed.

Someone else spoke.

The words muffled. Quaraun could not make them out.

Quaraun stood up and grabbed his daggers.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway again. Coming closer. Closer. Quaraun held his breath, not daring to make any noise. Whoever it was, they were almost here and there was no place to go. No place to hide.

Another bang. This time, Quaraun jumped. He nervously clutched his daggers. Whoever it was, they were getting close.

“Who is there?” the voice repeated.

Quaraun remained still and silent.

A figure stood in the corridor. A man. Wearing a dark cape with a hood. He held a knife in one hand, blade outward, and a torch in the other. No, two men, both in dark hooded capes.

The first man gestured with one hand for Quaraun to follow him.

“Come here!” he yelled.

Quaraun hesitated for a moment.

“Oh, it’s you, Quaraun,” said the second man. “I thought it might be someone from town, or bandits from the woods. Can’t trust no one these days, you know? But I guess it’s just the three of us then.”

“Do I know you?” Quaraun asked.

“Me? Ha ha!” he laughed heartily. “I’m so stupid! You’re the Elf I was told about, right?”

“How should I know?”

“Well, I’ll tell you something, Elf. We’ve been following you since we left the village today, and we gonna catch your tail and drag you back to the village and lock you up good.”

“Wait, what?” Quaraun stood, feeling very confused.

“I’m not one of your people, eh?”

“Uhm... no?”

“Just some poor unfortunate soul wandering around this hell hole. I have nothing in my pockets, so how am I going to pay for food and drink if I can’t find the money somewhere?”

“You don’t have a wallet?”

“Nope. Need money to survive now, don’t we?”

“You’re a bounty hunter?”

“That I would be.”

“You plan to turn me in for the reward money?”

“I do.”

“If money is all you need, I have gold I in my purse. I can give it to you now. You can pretend you never saw me and just let me pass.”

“Oh, no, I can’t do that. Wouldn’t be right.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Why not?”

“Well, you see, it’s like this. I’m the additional guard of the castle, see? Can’t let someone like you escape my first day on the job, now can I?”

“I suppose not.”

"Stop lollygagging and move."

With hesitation, Quaraun picked up his things, pocketed the book titled “The Dark Side of Camelot”, and followed the castle guard and his companion.

The two guards led Quaraun down the halls of the castle until they reached their destination, a hallway leading to a stone staircase, leading up a tall stone tower.

"There it is Rapunzel," the guard said pointing to the tower.

"Rapunzel?" Quaraun asked.

"You're hair."

"I understand the reference. I don't understand what it is I am looking at."

"Your tower. With only one door at the top of the stairs. A tower, taller than your hair. I don't doubt you can grow your hair long enough to climb down with it, but it'll take you a few decades. And by that time we will have found the princess without you getting in the way."

"You intend to lock me in a tower?"

"Oh yes. Fitting for one with hair like your's, yes?"

"I'm not sure if that was intended as a joke or an insult."

"I know."

The other guard chuckled and turned back to face the entrance to the tower. He gestured toward the entrance of the tower.

"Go inside then. Make yourself at home."

Quaraun looked between the two guards who had been escorting him. Then he started walking forward, feeling uneasy about entering a strange place with two strange men. One of them was obviously the king's advisor. That meant he could not trust either of these people.

So what made the situation even more uncomfortable was the fact that he didn’t have anywhere to go. No friends here in, nobody to speak with. Nobody to turn to for help.

He entered the tower and went straight into a narrow corridor. The walls were covered with old tapestries and paintings of various events throughout history. He wondered how anyone could find something so beautiful in such a bleak, empty place.

It must have been some sort of trick that allowed them to live like this when the rest of the world seemed to be starving or dying. It also explained why they would choose to work for this monster. If he had been forced to choose between working for the king and working for the man who was hunting him, the former sounded much better.

As they walked through a winding hallway, they came to an area that resembled a cross between a hospital and a dungeon.

It was lit with torches and hung with iron bars. There were cages filled with people screaming in pain, some injured as well. They passed a young boy sitting by himself against one wall.

"Ignore them," the guard said to Quaraun. "They're not there. You didn't see anything."

"I didn't?"

“No. And besides. I got a princess to find. Up to your tower like a good little fairy tale waif with cursed hair, now will you?”

“Princess?” Quaraun recalled the blond woman he had seen only moments ago. Was she the princess of whom these men spoke? Quaraun was more interested in finding his ghostly undead soulmate than helping these men find their princess, though it did occur to him, that helping them, could get him out of his current situation of being tossed in prison. "What sort of girl is she? Is she an actual princess?"

“Yep. She went and run off again."

“What sort of princess needs being guarded for, by men like you?”

“The kind that makes kings weep with jealousy, of course!”

"Ah! Of course. Now why didn't I think of that?"

The tall man, who was presumably the captain of this castle's guardsmen, leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially in Quaraun’s ear. “She’s a sorceress."

"Is she?"

"Um-hum."

"So... she's a sorceress?" Quaraun mulled this thought over in his mind. A sorceress would certainly explain several of the strange, unnatural happenings of this day.

"Aye."

"Aye?"

"Yep."

"No, you said, aye."

"Same differance."

"Are you Scottish?"

"Nope."

"Than why use a Scottish word?"

"Why you interrogating me over a silly word?"

"Words are not silly."

"Says who?"

"Says me. I say."

"And what right have you to say?"

"I'm a Di'Jinn. We use words, true meanings of words, to power our spells. Bad things happen when you use a word and use a modern slang meaning and not the word's original true meaning. Words are very important. Never say they aren't."

"I'm the guard here. You're the prisoner. Now shut your trap, before I shut it for you, ya hear?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"But you said this princess you are looking for is a sorceress, can you tell me more of that?"

"You know," the taller guard added, his tone now hushed again. "If you wanted me to tell you the story of how her parents died, fighting dragons and she was whisked away by Griffons, I would sit my ass right down in that chair over dair and do so, eh?"

"But it wouldn't be what actually happened to her would it?" Quaraun understood the man was being sarcastic.

"No. It would not."

"Than why would you tell me it?"

"What part of I am the guard here. You are the prisoner. Now shut your trap, before I shut it for you, do you not understand?"

"I got the impression if you was going to hit me you would have just done it outright and not told me beforehand, so I'm thinking you don't want to hit me at all, in which case I am lead to believe that it is perfectly safe for me to continue talking to you."

"Arrogant one, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"You admit it?"

"I know what I am, no reason to hide it. Just accept my flaws and continue on with life. That's all any of us can do. Besides, I prefer to be honest in all things. Less things to try to remember, if you always just speak the truth about everything, yes? Tell me, this sorceress, is she dangerous?"

"The Daughter of Vengeance she is."

"The Daughter of Vengeance? I believe I've heard that before."

"Yeah, that's her name. And she hates me for no reason at all."

"Does she now?"

"Don't even get me started on what she gone done dids to the other guys in town."

"Other guys? What other guys? There is no one in town, except a crew of bandits, which I think she killed. The rest of the village is deserted."

"Aye. That do be me point."

"Now, come on, will you? Be a good evil sorcerer and come along nicely."

"I'm not an evil sorcerer."

"You're Quaraun the Insane, aren't you?"

"Yes. But I'm not evil."

"Yeah, yeah, we heard it before. The super villain is always the hero in his own story. Come on. We got a nice prison cell for you. Then I can get back to catching the princess. We don’t want her getting caught by the enemy now, do we?”

“Who is the enemy?”

"Don't you know?"

"Know what?"

"Have you been living under a rock?"

"Apparently. Tell me what it is I don't know."

"About her?"

"Who?"

"Didn't you read the letter I wrote to Lady Janna?"

"Who?"

"Lady Janna."

"I haven't the foggiest idea what you are talking about."

"The letter, Elf. Where is it?"

"What letter?"

"Hah! I knew it!"

"Knew what?" Quaraun felt very confused. Though the guard looked like a Human, he was talking like a Faerie, and Quaraun was having trouble following the fast pace Faerie-style logic of not saying everything and changing topics very quickly. BoomFuzzy had always done that, BoomFuzzy being a Faerie, and so Quaraun had often been left clueless to half the things BoomFuzzy talked about.

"It's from the book," the guard continued.

"What book?" Quaraun asked, as he followed the guard up the tall spiralling stairs, leading into a very tall stone tower. While the second guard walked silently behind, jabbing his finger into Quaraun's back every time Quaraun stopped walking. "Will you stop that!" Quaraun yelled as he spun around and slapped the guard behind him. "That hurts! I'm not trying to escape, now poking me!"

"Now, now, Njord!" the leading guard called down, "Stop poking his ladyship."

"I'm not a ladyship!" Quaraun snarled.

Quaraun was in fact a female JellyFish type Thullid, living as a male Elf, so he was using male pronouns, though he was biologically a she and not a he. With this in mind, Quaraun took great offence to being called by any female pronouns, ladyship included.

The guard had continued up the stairs, but seeing how Quaraun had stopped walking, he turned around and made his way back down to where Quaraun stop. By the time he made his way back to Quaraun, Quaraun was now yelling at Njord, threatening to kick him down the stairs.

"My what a bitchy prisoner we have."

"HE STEPPED ON MY HAIR!"

"Uhm... ya hair be as long as de t'ree of us combined if we stood on each ot'er's heads."

"That doesn't give him an excuse to step on my hair."

"Ya do'na take to being a prisoner very well, do you?"

"He's stepping on my hair!" Quaraun screamed frantically.

"Ah. Yes. I do forgets about ya hair." The guard stared down at the stone steps, where Quaraun massive mess of twelve foot long glossy, slippery, silvery white hair, trailed down the stairs behind him, and the second guard, Njord, was standing on the tresses. "Njord, his ladyship has requested you stop stepping on hims hair."

"We should just cut it off," Njord said.

"NO!" screamed Quaraun as he pulled his hair closer to him, winding it up on his arm like a rope. "You'll kill me if you cut it! I'll bleed to death!"

"Hair doesn't bleed," Njord laughed.

"Mine does!" Quaraun shrieked hysterically. "I would bleed to death if you cut it."

"Hair doesn't bleed. . ."

"Mine does," Quaraun repeated again, fear filling his voice now.

"That's not possible."