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Fool's Gold	By : Zarafla_Kirtan-Pherrin Category: zMisplaced Stories [ADMIN use only] > Road to El Dorado, The Views: 1493 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to The Road To El Dorado, nor do I profit from this. Enjoy this lovely fanfic! If not, crawl in a ditch for all I care! ;P

Chapter List
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-Fool's Gold
Paired Couple: MiguelXTulio/SLASH!/Lime
A/N: Miguel, Chel, Altivo, and Tulio do not belong to me, they belong to Dreamworks. So on and so forth...
Miguel walked over to a dense cover of leaves and foliage, taking the lead along the faint trail ahead. Tulio, Chel, and Altivo followed after him, albeit Tulio looking around the forest in distrust. Somehow, his best friend always got them in some kind of trouble by being too curious or too adventurous. Or being just too... Miguel!
As the blond brushed past some overhanging vines, he gave a startled cry. "TULIO-!"
The paranoid, raven haired Spaniard rushed over to his friend, wielding a long branch like a sword. He ran head-first through the tangle of plants, swinging madly. "Come on out, you malinchistas! I have a... uh... deadly weapon and am not afraid to use it!"
He swung at nothing but air as he looked upon a clearing. Rather annoyed, he narrowed his eyes over his shoulder at Miguel. The blond shrugged helplessly, a guilty grin on his face.
"I was going to tell you that I found the perfect spot to set up camp." He explained.
Tulio threw the stick down, making his way over to the stream that crossed the clearing. It was a picturesque little spot in the forest. The grass was soft, the small stream held some fresh-water fish, many kinds of fruits filled the branches of some of the trees, and sunlight filtered through the thin canopy. Altivo rushed in between Chel and Miguel, excited to drink some of the plentiful water.
"ALTIVO! STOP! W-WHOOOOAA!"
In the horse's maddening gallop, he managed to shove Tulio into the water with a loud splash. Miguel and Chel could do nothing but cringe. When Tulio resurfaced, they saw a fish wag its tail from his mouth. The native woman leaped over a boulder and helped him to his feet as he spat the fish out.
"Damn it, Altivo!" He yelled at the war horse, who was busy sating his thirst. He started wringing his clothes out from the water.
Miguel walked over towards the others, giving a gentle smile. "You okay?"
"Yea, I'm okay. I'm just wet."
"You could always take your clothes off and dry them over some branches." Chel suggested, pointing to the trees near the stream.
Tulio suddenly grinned, leering at her. "And what will I do without my clothes... go naked?"
She shrugged, purposefully misinterpreting his intention with an innocent smile. "Take a bath while your clothes dry. You haven't been smelling the best lately."
He frowned and lifted an arm to smell himself in disbelief as she walked over to the other side of the clearing, making sure to not have the best view of the stream.
"I could use a bath myself." Miguel stated, taking his red shirt off and tossing it to the ground.
Tulio shook his head, took off his clothes, and settled them on the branches like Chel suggested, not noticing that the blond man had sneaked a peek at him behind his back.
Later on, when Tulio and Miguel were bathed and clothed properly, the sun was well below the horizon as the moon rode into the sky. Miguel had gathered some branches before the light had faded and Tulio lit the fire that would sustain the four of them for the night with warmth.
Chel had caught the fish that cooked over the small fire after a disastrous result of both the men trying to catch the fish with their bare hands. She had simply taken the branch that Tulio had thrown to the ground earlier and plunged it straight into the stream, spearing the first fish, much to their surprise. From there, she had caught two more, laid the carcasses on a flat rock near the fire, and gutted and scaled them with a small, sharp stone.
As the meat cooked, Tulio laid back against a tree and looked up at the stars.
"Do you think we'll find Tollan?" Miguel asked out of nowhere.
"Of course we'll find it," Tulio said, "we found El Dorado, didn't we?"
"Well, yea..."
"It shouldn't be a problem then, should it?"
Miguel contemplated for a moment. "Hey," he turned to Chel, "Is there a possible way that you might know where Tollan is? I mean, you do live here..."
Chel shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. Chief Tannabok never let anyone outside of the city unless they were a hunter. I don't think I've ever heard of this city before." She flipped the fish steaks on the rock that sat within the fire.
"I see..." The blond said in disappointment.
"Why are you so worried about not finding this place anyway, amigo?" Tulio asked, being the optimistic one for once. "El Dorado was considered a myth, and yet we found it! Tollan will be the exact same scenario."
"I do hope so."
The raven haired Spaniard clapped a hand on his best friend's shoulder in comfort. Miguel looked at him with smiling green eyes, his heart pounding a fierce rhythm.
A rough hand jerked Miguel out of bed that night, a crude spear pointing at his face.
"Wha-"
He was shoved upright and pushed against a tree and had his hands bound behind his back before he had fully opened his eyes.
Miguel could hear the startled cries of Chel and Tulio being treated much in the same manner. Their captors shouted in a foreign tongue, sounding harsh and menacing to his ears. The ten figures that had ambushed them while they had been sleeping looked like some of the citizens from El Dorado.
However, the blond Spaniard knew that that was unlikely.
Although these warriors had the same brown chestnut skin and black hair, they looked wild and unkept. Their hair hung in long, lank ropes and their eyes held a desperate, almost crazed light. Their clothing was torn animal skin loincloths that reeked of dried mud, sweat, and blood while bone necklaces-with slivers of decaying meat still clinging onto them-graced their shoulders. Each man carried sharp spears or wooden staves, all weapons facing the trio.
Miguel turned his focus to Altivo, hoping that the war horse would at least kick a couple of the natives to the ground and save them.
No such luck. Altivo laid on his side, his legs and muzzle firmly bound by thick ropes. Perhaps the horse was the warriors' main priority to tie up when they had stumbled upon the group. Altivo would have whinnied in alarm, causing the friends to wake up.
"What the Hell are you-" began Tulio, just before one of the natives shoved a rope in his mouth. "-foing? Weh fifn'f fo anyfing!"
"Chel! Can you talk to them? Convince them to let us go!" Miguel cried to her desperately, just before another warrior had stuffed rope into his mouth as well.
She looked as if she were about to say something, but was cut short by her own gag.
It looked as if things couldn't be any more bleak.
They were all led to the middle of a ramshackle village after a long, ten mile trek through the jungle. Tulio looked as if he were going to pass out from the intense heat and non-stop voyage. But a wooden stave poked him in the ribs to prevent the raven-haired Spaniard from dropping to the ground.
He growled half-heartedly through the bitter-tasting fibers of the rope.
Miguel shook from exhaustion, warm sweat pooling down his back. It was a slight reprieve, but without wind to cool it, the sweat did little to his body temperature. He had been sure that he was going to die a mile back from heat-stroke.
Chel didn't look any better. The woman was also gasping for air from the intense heat, despite being born on this land and being used to this climate.
Their journey had been a pressed march that left the companions sore, short of breath, and dehydrated. Now, it looked like they were being lead to their impending death.
The small village consisted of huts made of sun-dried, thick mud and woven tree branches. Skulls of small animals and what appeared to be humans hung like beads on ropes from six-foot stakes that pierced the ground at random intervals among the village. A giant circle of stones and burned wood in the middle of the huts marked it as the communal fire, measuring in at five feet in diameter. No fire graced the blackened branches in the fire pit.
A gentle light permeated the foliage overhead, signaling the early morning hours.
Behind the three captives, five of the warriors had Altivo hanging from a huge and heavy wooden beam like a fresh kill ready to be cooked over a fire. Miguel hoped that that wasn't their intention.
One of the warriors that had kept a trained spear on Chel broke off from the group and ran to the nearest hut, pushing aside the animal skin that covered the entrance. Not one of these haggard natives had spoken to their captives or each other throughout the entire ordeal of bringing them here to this desolate village. But now, they muttered amongst each other in a foreign tongue that none of the captives could understand. It was raspy and guttural, making the hairs on the back of Tulio's and Miguel's necks stand on end.
Although Tulio would never admit it.
A/N: YAY for a long chapter! WOO! What will the friends find next? Only the next chapter will tell...
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Fool's Gold