Dances With The Daffodils

I'm woken by a strange noise — a rustling. 

At first, I think it's part of a dream so I groan and turn over. Then my eyes open and I stare into the dark. It's impossible to tell where the sounds are coming from, but going by the state of this hotel, it could be dangerous.

I slide my hand out from the covers and reach for my phone, but all I find is the cool wood of the bedside table. Maybe it's in my bag, but I'm pretty sure I know where I left it. That's when I pinpoint the source of the sound--the end of my bed. 

Someone's going through my stuff!

I bolt up and call out into the dark, 'Hey!'

The noise stops. I'm guessing the thief is frozen with fear but when I don't make a move, there's a rustle of clothing and bare feet pad away, slapping hard against the wood floor. I can't let him escape. I need those bags. They have everything: Skofnung, my phone, my clothes, and, stupidly, the details for the memorial — everything but the boots. The two scraps of leather still sit on the bedside table, hidden in plain sight.

I swing my feet out and stretch them on. Whoever he is, he won't get far. 

I take off after the thief, catapulting through the dark and crashing headfirst through the open door. Falling into the hall, I make out his figure at the end of the corridor.

'Stop!' I yell, but he takes no notice and dodges around the corner.

I continue racing after him, not caring about the noise. The more people who know about this, the better. Besides, from the looks of the thief, he's not going to be winning any races. His figure is middle-aged with a solid pot-belly and wispy hair. If I can't catch someone like that, well, that's just embarrassing.

Eventually I reach the door to the lobby, but it's locked. I pause. He must have a key. I growl in frustration and back up. If he's got a car, there'll be no way to keep up — even with the boots. 

I run towards the door, ramming into it with my shoulder. Pain rattles through my left side, but it's nothing compared to what I felt after the avalanche. I hit against it, again, again, again, and, finally, on the fifth strike, the door bursts open. I stumble through, only to stop short when I see what's inside.

He's been waiting for me. Him and the massive guy from the front desk. 

My thief may be middle-aged and potbellied, but that man could turn me to dust between his fingertips. The worst part of all this, however, is the fact he now holds Skofnung in his hands. The bandage, the one that protects its hilt from the sun, is still firmly in place.

The older one grins. He must be the ring-leader, I decide as stands behind the front desk which has the content of my bags spilt upon it.

'Most people don't wake up,' he says, brushing down his unkempt suit.

They both turn to watch me and I know I've been duped. The hotel is some sort of front, stealing from the poor bastards unlucky enough to need to stay here.

'Now,' he continues, still sifting through my clothes. 'I wonder how much that sword of yours will fetch on the street.' He places his arms on the desk and I note something on his fingers--a thick, gold ring. 'Wherever did you get it from?'

'It was a gift,' I say through gritted teeth.

'Hmm.' He scoffs and holds up my clothes, peering at them through the dim light. 'Tell you what, kid, I'll give you a choice. If you'd be so kind as to potter off back to bed, we'll make sure nothing untoward happens to you in the night. But, of course, if you don't, I'd love to see what Sean here can do with that sword.'