Legends of Belariath
Arenyl
The pixie’s first memory was of waking.. Waking in flowers.. Surrounded by them, laying in them.. Gossamer wings fluttering through scented air, powder blue hair flying around her in a carefree manner.. Twirling, twirling.. Pirouetting.. Laughter filling the air as she was surrounded by others of her kind.. Others of winter color like herself.. Others of darker fiery colors of autumn.. Or the vibrant colors of summer.. But one and all, they laughed and danced to Gaea‘s Glory.. For what was a pixie’s place other than to worship the Mother of All and revel in the happiness she chose to gift to the world..
The ‘tribe’ she had lived within, a small gathering of Pixies.. Brought together by a mutual nature, forming a close knit group.. It was an Idealic life for the pixie.. And yet.. There was always something missing.. The pixie was different, plagued by strange feelings.. Rather calm compared to her fellow Children of Gaea, who were always running wild in the woods, playing tricks on those unlucky enough to wander by.. This calmness eventually drove the others away from her, alienating the small pixie..
It was not in her nature to fall into a depression over the loss of her ‘family’ for she still had the Mother she so Loved. Gaea watched over the little pixie, imbuing her with the optimistic outlook and mischievous air that seemed to surround all of her ’ixian children.. Although little Arenyl dealt with it in a different way, her enthusiasm of more of a quiet, calm nature.. Her optimism a solid foundation that kept her moving even when it seemed everything would fall apart..
The Pixie seemed more comfortable in the silence of the forest, filled with the noises of birds and animals rather than the cries of the towns.. And yet her journeys seemed to always lead her back to civilization.. The need to fit in.. although no matter where she went.. It would seem she was not wanted.. Humans found her too rash, to childish.. Other ‘ixies found her too serious.. Boring.. Only the elfin seemed to find the girl acceptable, accepting her for being one of Gaea’s children.. If not for who she was.. And it was that fact that would send the pixie walking yet again.. That need to be accepted.. To find a place where she would be valued..
One dewy night she would find her way to Nathalion.. For a while she would simply spend most of her time in the forest, slowly lured towards the town day by day until she began spending her time in the Inn.. The.. Variety.. Of people would put the pixie at ease.. Giving her hopes of finding a place to belong..
And then one odd night she met the man who would form the first, and most important, leg of her family.. Kalagoth.. The necromancer would draw the little pixie in.. his eternal calm, which would suddenly flare to violence.. Although not against the pixie.. Her punishments were always.. Calm.. Intense..
That first night he would enchant the pixie, a mixture of strawberries, magic, and the man’s amusement drawing the small girl to him.. She was taken in by his words.. Believing every teasing thing he said, her innocent nature making her gullible, susceptible to his strange ‘games’.. To this day the pixie still believes the man has stolen her soul.. And that no strawberry ever tastes as good as soul-stealing berries.
As the days went on the Pixie had several encounters with the man, some more disturbing than others, although every one seemed to be a test of her obedience, of her stamina, of her resilience.. Each test passed by the girl.. Until the final one.. The small girl violated by the necromancer, disguised as a full catman, given the choice of orgasm, and crushing the Necromancer.. Or holding it within and prolonging the torture indefinably.. The poor pixie was unable to hold back for long enough, her body betraying her.. Left laying in tears as the Necromancer changed back into his usual ebony skinned self and returned.. Some words of comfort given.. And then he was gone.. Leaving the small girl to moan her inadequacies, thinking she had failed him..
Within days the pixie had been.. Claimed.. By the Necromancer, moved into his home.. Gifted with his mark.. Even introduced to his Lady Mate and her Master. Her life was quickly brought to completion with the addition of the vixen to their household.. The two girls quickly became friends, the vixen keeping the pixie out of almost as much trouble as the small pixie got the vixen into..
The Pixie slowly earned her Lord’s esteem, being gifted with his mark upon the soft slope of her belly, first as a wizard mark, and then, later, as a tattoo.. Two mithril rings sliding through tender nipples set with sapphires.. The most precious gift of all.. Given from the pixie’s Lord.. Was Music.. Introduced by the Necromancer in gentle memory of his past, infused into the impressionable pixie who grew to love it.. To follow the path of the flute, rather than that of the thief..