Legends of Belariath
UnderTow
The crimson tides washed over my face and my arm hung useless at my side. It had been a week since my escape and I had finally gotten out of the underdark with my life. These were trying times on the battered body and the tortured soul, the 7 sisters had introduced me to a style of sex and pain I had never thought could have been. One single night with the seven was like an eternity in hell, and 100 years of eternity is a long time. But why me? Why did they take such and interest in one such as myself? One look at my skin and the answer was clear as the tear of the innocent, I was of the rarest blood of all, and albino drow. The sister had a sick hatred for high elves, as most drow do, and since I resembled them I was the perfect target for their frustration and since I was infect of drow blood they could use my body for their foul delights as well. I paused and has almost blinded by the fabled rays of the sun which pounded on my skin and eyes as the first true daylight I had seen in over 150 years. It was not always like this, once the high elves had mistaken me for one of their own and even trained me in their military, I was taught how to fight and how to cast a very limited array of spells and I myself believed I was a high elf. My true mother was a drow matriarch and was given a week with me before I was to be killed for resembling too closely of our bastard surface cousins, she took this opportunity to pull from the underdark and at least see if I could survive on the surface than be murdered in my true home.
The high elves back quickly interested in my ability to follow orders and act as the perfect soldier, they had raised me from birth and even then I was obedient, it must have been in my blood since I was of course a drow male, born to serve and owned as a pathetic lap dog of the female my mother chose. My out standing capability with edged weapons was also noticed by one of the nobles of the high elven nations and he chose me to teach his daughter how to defend herself. It was then that I was introduced to my first love, well more of a crush, Nidawi. Her grace, her lithe form, and her seeming need to be near me at all hours of the day almost went unnoticed by me simply because I was not instructed to love but simply to teach. The saying 'when love is ignored is when it flourishes and eventually will overcome even the coldest barriers' was proven true. Nidawi had instructed me to meet her in one of the stable of her father and to tell no one of our secret meeting. I still remember that soft, loving, lingering kiss on my lips and the feeling of her silk gown as I slid my hands up and down her sides. To her I had never truly been a teacher but a passion, she had seen me grow in their midst and could tell I was different from the others in the fact that I kept to myself and never really joined in social occasions with most high elves revel in. That fateful night was the night that this young high elve proved that not all love must be hidden, not all women are beasts and not all men must serve. She was so nervous she shivered in the cold as he revealed her body to me, his beautiful pale thighs, her ample bosom, he beautiful little mound which to my suprise had been clean shaven and the gently curve of her rear was enough to make any man?s mouth water. As many know the act of sex can be an akward thing or can even become a very violent thing but not this night, this night everything was perfect as our passions meet in soft, gently love making.
Our meetings continued in secret for a year and every time things were just as magical and just as beautiful, as if every time we made love it was our first. one single week after our one year anniversary the local magistrate finally began to wonder about my past, wondering where I came from and as to why my hair was completely white, odd among a people whoms hair tends to be brown, black, or blonde. I was called to a meeting and was directed to inform the magistrate of my lineage. I think that was the last time I honestly felt fear and the words that came to my lips have rung out in my mind ever since that day, 'I know not', a record keeper traced the files of high elven lineage and found absolutely no records of my existence so I was banished from the kingdom upon suspicion I was a spy raised here only to feed information to someone later. I was torn from Nidawi without so much as a good bye and was turned to live in the woods, thus I celebrated my 50th birthday in the woods, alone. Luck is the bastard child of fate, and believe me, luck was on my side. One night I lay sleeping in my tent when I was discovered by a group of drow whom were inspecting the very same city I had been raised in and they stumbled upon my camp, weaponless and copperless they took me easily and pulled me down to the underdark where I was tortured for the very first time by my very own people. My resolved shocked many and sent waves through the underdark that reached some of the high council. On a hunch one of my mother?s hand maiden went to inspect what this high elf was all about and then is when she looked into my eyes and recognized the very same boy she had to hide from council and take to the surface. I was taken to yet another secret meeting, chained like a dog to the table for inspection and informed of my past, she explained everything to me and told me off that had happened to me when I was an infant. As strange as it sounds, even though I denied everything I knew she was right and eventually had to accept it all.
I was home, I was finally back to where I was born but at what cost? The hierarchy made a deal with me, they either finished the sacrifice for Lloth they had planned for me 50 years ago, or I tell them all I knew about the high elven town and I was free to live among them, I told them everything out of sheer hatred for the magistrate for tearing me away from what I believed was love. It seem to me that allot those old sayings are quite true, for example 'If I had known then, what I know now, everything would be different'. They had tricked me into a fate that one that was raised by high elve would never thought believable, they gave me to the 7 daughters of a drow matriarch whom was having difficulty keeping her daughters 'toys' alive. Once they found that the relic they were searching for was not in the town they left it be after only a minor raiding party had looted a large portion of their treasury, it turned out the boy they had banished on thoughts of spying had come to fruitation, but only by the foolish choice of a paranoid few. Hot coals, dislocation of limbs and fingers, hot scourges against my flesh, rock salt grinded into the head of my penis and rape that only a drow female can achieve were the torments I faced by choosing life over a quick death as sacrifice. Bit me once, shame on you. Bite me twice, shame on me. One lesson I've learned from all this is to never trust a drow again, no matter how simple the deal is they will find some way to change things on you. The second is never get too comfortable, because when you think everything is wonderful is when the flood of misery finds you and it finds EVERYONE. Battered, bleeding, broken... I had finally escaped my servitude and broke free to the surface world and just ahead of my I saw a single sign with an arrow pointing down the long and winding road. The sign simply said 'Belariath', I've never looked back