LBD #2: Rodents of Unusual Size
 by Livia

 [From behind them, suddenly, closer than they imagined, they
could hear the roar of Humperdinck: "Stop them! Cut them off!" They
were, admittedly, startled, but there was no reason for worry: they
were on the fastest horses in the kingdom, and the lead was already
theirs.

However, this was before Inigo's wound reopened; and Westley relapsed
again; and Fezzik took the wrong turn; and Buttercup's horse threw a
shoe. And the night behind them was filled with the crescendoing
sound of pursuit. . . .]

 "Go on without me!" Inigo slipped off his horse, clutching
his belly with his left hand. Blood slipped through his fingers with
every strained breath, pattering audibly on the leaves underfoot. His
instincts screamed suddenly and he looked up to see a familiar
silhouette moving out of the trees, just ahead. Carefully, it
extended one arm, raising a short, wicked crossbow and aiming for
Buttercup and Westley.

 Pain was Inigo's world as he plunged the blade of his sword
into the ground, the reached down and scooped up a handful of dirt-
clods and dry leaves. He sent them flying towards the grey-clad
assassin, spun to Buttercup's side and used the last of his brute
strength to help her clamber onto Westley's horse. She struggled to
steady his limp form, her face luminous with terror. "But what about--
"

 "Go now!" Inigo shouted, and slapped the white horse's rump,
sending it disappearing into the night, followed by his own horse and
Buttercup's limping steed. He circled slowly after them, standing
between the assassin and his newly found friends.

 The two men looked at each other across the clearing-- the
grey figure clad in fine, soft fabrics, and the black-clad, gore-
stained swordsman, eyeing each other with wary professional respect.

 "You look like death, Montoya. How long has it been since we
crossed swords?"

 "Budapest? Madrid?" Images were flashing behind his drowsy,
lowering eyelids. Was this what it meant to have one's life flashing
before one's eyes? Budapest and Madrid seemed like shadow-plays, very
far away, but bright before him like a pageant unfurled a memory of
the very first time he'd seen the slender, green-eyed man, strolling
along a white stone bridge in Venice-- the memory interlaid with
other memories, more familiar knowledge of this man with the body of
a swordsman and the face of a pagan god in a mosaic repainted to play
a saint's role, with only something of the eyes hinting at the
wilding secrets beneath the pretty face, the sound of water in the
canals lapping gently outside, throwing dancing reflected sunlight
onto the ceiling over the bed...

 The assassin nodded slightly. "I saw you in Venice three
years ago, but you didn't see me."

 Inigo nodded, steadying himself by clutching the hilt of his
sword. He didn't know if he had the strength to stand without it; he
didn't even know if he had the strength to pull it from the earth
once more. "If you want them, Krycek," he said softly, "you must kill
me first."

 "You'd really--" The other man's eyes widened slightly. "I
see. So you've finally killed Count Rugen."

 Inigo smiled, already nostalgic. "It was glorious, if you
like that sort of-- Ah." He barked a laugh. "You knew it was Count
Rugen who killed my father all along, didn't you?" The horses' hooves
in the distance were drumming louder, and now he could hear the
Prince's shouts as he led the chase, closer and closer. "I should
have known. Who do you work for now?"

 Krycek moved closer, crossbow still clutched in his good
right hand, the other sleeve pinned up with a metal clasp. He studied
Inigo's wound with cool green eyes. "At the moment? Certain interests
based in Guilder," he finally answered. "I'm to kill the Princess,
now that she's Humperdinck's wife."

 "There's been no wedding," Inigo lied. "The Princess flees
with her lover. Please, for the sake of what we once were to each
other, for a dying man's last request-- kill Humperdinck instead."

 "Give me a good reason." Krycek stowed his crossbow at his
belt, and lifted his grey-gloved hand to Inigo's cheek, examining the
fresh cut.

 "I can pay," Inigo said, allowing the touch, allowing the
pain to husk in his voice; Alex had always liked that. "I am the
Dread Pirate Roberts-- well, not exactly, but let me explain--"

 One eyebrow rose. "I'm familiar with that old shell game."

 "It's what you always wanted, isn't it?" Inigo challenged,
and Krycek pulled his hand away. "To be a free agent, and no man's
hireling? Only kill the Prince, and the name, the ship, the treasure
is all yours." He took a breath. "I swear it, Alex, on my father's
grave."

 Alex considered, then turned his head and whistled for his
horse. The night grew darker, slowly blotting out the stars, and the
last thing Inigo remembered was the roar and rush of what sounded
like the ocean, beginning to ring in his ears, drowning out
everything else... They must have almost, almost made it to the
harbor, he thought bitterly. Father, I have avenged you. I am
content. He slipped away from everything.

 When Inigo woke up, everything was dark. He was flat on his
back in a wooden bunk.

 He could still hear the ocean.

[end]

The book is "The Princess Bride" by William Goldman (the classic tale
of true love and high adventure. :) ) The movie of the same title is
a slumber party classic.