Legends of Belariath
Dalahlaleeah
From The Depths of Nightmares - Chapter 2
Grey skies muted sunlight so that the shafts that filtered through the window panes did little more than make a body ache for summer and bright sun. Snow fell, thick and heavy, to blanket the world in white silence. Beautiful imagery for the eyes to behold but bitterly cold to set foot out in. The late winter storm had come out of nowhere just as things had shown some promise of warming up. Just as she had been trying to plan out the gardens that would need to be laid out and planted. Sea water blue eyes shifted, watched as a thick branch laden with snow and ice snapped, dumping it‘s burden to the ground in a waterfall of white to almost bury one lone squirrel searching for food. She was tired. It didn’t need to be said out loud though, one only needed to look to see the purplish bruises under up slanted almond eyes that told of the weight of exhaustion. The bloodshot whites of her eyes from too many hours awake. And if those were not enough, the listless nature of the bard. One who had always seemed to have stores of energy to cavort and play upon her instruments. No, those were gone now and she found it tiring just to sit and watch it snow. Sounds of the puppies wrestling on the rug behind her caught her attention and had her head turning from the window, softly pointed chin in the cup of her hand supporting the weight of her head swiveling till sight of the three was caught. Dancing light of the flames from the large hearth made the grey and white of their fur shine, cast shadows across the floor that shifted and mimicked the playful romping of the puppies. At least they were more entertaining than snow falling, but she found no desire to join them on the floor, to play with them the way she had when she had first brought them home. Slow, steady breaths were drawn in, heavy lids beginning that quest to close. Warmth from the hearth and the heavy woolen blankets over her legs conspired against her, brought that need for sleep creeping closer and closer without her realizing it. And she would have slept had it not been for the sudden wet tongue against her fingers, tiny teeth nipping at dainty fingertips. The sensation jerked her head upwards, eyes so tired that they burned flying open before rapid blinks to clear the fuzzy vision she found herself with. It was the smallest of the puppies at her side, lavishing attention on her hand in bid to gain some in return, his tail wagging furiously. “Rascal, I swear.” Dulled voice, tired, slipped from her lips as her body shifted and leaned forward to wrap both hands around the pup‘s fat, wiggling midsection. “you are rotten Ras. Lay here with me and take a nap.” Not that the puppy needed to much encouragement. His favored position was her lap and his favored past time was sleeping. As for her? Well surely a small nap would not bring those terrifying nightmares again. Just a small nap. The tiny sylvan never knew at what point the need to sleep won out over stubborn fear, at what point her head lolled to the side and snuggled into the pillow. Her eyes had already closed and sleep had already claimed her.
The world seemed embraced by the blinding white, a hush that always seemed to settle when the snow fell, taking over to lend it’s hand in the creation of a desolate beauty. The trees were barren, their limbs stretching towards the heavens like skeletal arms in supplication, the rivers and streams gurgled dying breaths as the icy cold took grip and crystallized their watery blood solid. It was the season of death, the hour that every living thing succumb to. And yet, it was during this hour that a new life bloomed, struggling to hold to that faint spark, the first breath taken and released with a shrill wail, echoing the high pitched scream of agony that announced to the frozen landscape that cold death had been defeated. Life would prevail in the never ending struggle. The village, if it could be called such, was nestled at the edge of the forest and within sight of the stone keep that offered it’s protection to the pitiful collection of huts. The cries of the newborn infant emanated from a hut that looked nothing like a home, but rather a hovel barely fit to keep the hogs safe from the elements. A lean-to that was comprised of twisted branches and sticks, a smattering of thatching over the top to block out some of the snow that fell so copiously. Not even a door graced the place, just a mere fur over the gap in the wall. Within the small hut laid the weakened woman, her lifeblood seeping steadily onto the furs beneath her, grasping hands extended for the child that she had given her all to bring forth. The old crone stood over her, bloody hands lifting to show the dying woman the child so longed for. Streaked with crimson, wet from birthing fluids and protesting mightily the cold that assaulted it’s senses, the infant wailed in high pitched notes, tiny fists flailing in agitation. “A boy..” The crones voice rasped out between the gasping cries of the baby. “Weak boy.” Turning her decrepit body, she thrust the child into the waiting arms of the armored male standing in the corner, the order given quickly. “dispose of it and tell no one what you have seen this night.”
A rush of cold against the her face, the only sounds heard that of retreating footsteps and the wail of the newborn child barely wrapped in an old cloak laying under a tree. Her feet grew numb standing in the thick snow and shivers raced through her body, mind confused - almost numb in horror at what was taking place. Emotions surged and the urge to snatch up the child, to protect the child grew till her numb hands ached with that need. But even stumbling through the snow and reaching out to the child amounted to no good, no matter how far she walked, she could not reach that bundle under the tree. Hot tears welled up in her eyes, frustration - anger! - at the brutality being done. She didn’t understand! Her foot tripped upon a covered rock and down she went to her knees in the snow, thin nightgown soaking up the wet snow far too quickly. And she crawled, strained to reach that child with tears streaking down her cheeks at the fear that she’d not get there in time. The cries grew weaker, more silence in between each frail cry, spurning her on to try harder, hand always lifting and never finding. “I’m almost there… shh little one I’m almost there!” Her voice, choked with emotion sounded out between those cries, whisked away by the cold wind that blew snow across her eyes, forcing her to blink.
That sickening lurch of her stomach, the swirls of whites, black and greys as the world swam before her eyes. A rush of dry heat and she found herself crawling on scorching hot marble. Shivering, left hand extended out to reach for… him. He sat there on that throne like chair, a sadistic smirk on his thick lips. The drone of flying insects filled her ears - an incessant sound that made her want to cover her ears and when her hand started to pull back, to move for her ears, long dark fingers lashed out to curl around thin wrist.
Mine!!
That word roared through her head, drowned out the sound of the insects to fill her with a horror and fear that she was suffocating under. Slender arm yanked against the fingers that held onto her so tightly while that hand tugged on her, dragging her small body across the floor, ever closer to the stench ridden form sitting there. “No! NO!” Frantic, desperate yell from aching throat. An assertion - denial - of what he wanted, her head shaking hard in punctuate the words. Her knees and right palm burned from the heat of the marble, sent pain darting through her body yet she could not pull herself up. Could not find the ability to climb to her feet though she tried. Her eyes, trying hard to remain off that figure, stared at the large sandal covered feet, seen their shift as he leaned forward, his grip on her wrist tightening.
Foolish little elf. You are mine and you will stop fighting me.
Words that were almost purred, low and wholly frightening - they rolled through her mind with the edge of warning. Like a growl from a predator cat just before it attacked. And her head shook again while her body was hauled up off the floor by her arm - straining the socket to the point of pain. A second arm lashed around her tiny waist, hauled her in against the stinking form of the man just as her wrist was released only to have those fingers curl around her slender throat. Eyes flew up then, met those mud brown eyes of the man, wide and showing too much white in her fright, to see the malicious glee in his expression. The pressure began - a slow squeezing that constricted her throat and cut off her air. Sadistically slow, giving her time to panic as understanding dawned that he was going to choke the life out of her.
Dead or alive little girl, you are mine. It is up to you how you will serve me.
Pressure against her throat grew, her pale face mottling red and then almost purple as her body struggled for air. Both hands came lashing upwards - clawing at the arm of the hand that strangled her, pried at the fingers that dug into her throat and brought bruises to pale flesh as blood vessels ruptured. Dainty feet kicked against bony legs, her mouth falling open to gape and try to suck in air. Darkness crept along the edges of her vision and her heart thudded hard in her ears, each beat coming slower than the last. He was killing her! Once frantic thoughts slowed and she knew this sensation. Knew it all too well. Suffocation - impending death. Those desperate struggles slowed, stilled, as her body went limp in his grasp, the sound of maniacal laughter coming from some distance it seemed as that inky blackness swelled over her vision. Her last sight was his laughing face, rotting teeth flashing in that dark face.
Her body jerked upright from the couch, a deep ragged gasp of air sucked into burning lungs as both hands flew to her pained throat. And she was caught between screaming in terror and gulping in air frantically, her eyes burning. The puppies all three stood on the floor near the couch, whimpering and whining as she released choked scream after choked scream, the flood of tears dripping from her cheeks into the blanket. No more! She couldn’t take any more!