Shala’s Story

Chap 1: Discoveries

 

It was a Gathering Year that year, when all the valley’s residents came together for an eight-of-days to rekindle friendships, share stories and histories, see new faces and hope for that ever illusive gift of recognition to strike a select and lucky few.  Jhianne the First-comer and Oracle was in her glory relating the history of the Seekers, the SafeHaveners’ predecessors.  There was much happy laughter as she shared a particularly juicy tidbit of that ancient history.  But for one in the crowd these histories, though always interesting before, seemed unable to hold her this time.  She was Shala the Dreamspeaker, daughter of Lord Ahani; chieftess of all Haven valley, and Hammer; the master smith.  A headache had been her constant and annoying companion for an eight-of-days already, and though her mother knew about it; Shala had not followed her advice and sought a healer to deal with the persistent headache, for she felt it a ridiculous abuse of the healer’s abilities to cure something as simple as a headache.  But as she left the Gathering, she thought wistfully of both healers now in residence, her Aunt Willow, from WillowBrook village, and her Greatmother Jhianne, both who could remove this ever more annoying headache.   Thought of them though, was all she did; for she hoped instead that a short nap would sooth her pain.

As she moved toward her pavilion, she reflected upon the events of this day.  A nightmare – or if she were more honest – a foretelling had awoken her before dawn in a terrible state of terror.  For she had seen two possible futures for her people.  One possible future saw them, continuing, happily in their protected valley deep in the mountains between two landmasses (Landmasses that were overrun by the hated humans).  The other possible and much dreaded – by her – future was one of no future at all.  Indeed, in the nightmare…foretelling…there had been a curious absence of anything.  As if they had not even existed.  And that was more frightening then anything else she had ever sensed.  First thing this dawning she had sought out the First Comers, Jhianne and Yarek in their pavilion, to tell them of her terrible foretelling and for their hoped for comforting.  They, she recalled had been awake, which had not surprised her; but that they could not dispel her fears had.  Indeed they themselves had looked a little worried.  They could only comfort her in saying that the bad elves in her dreams still had to face the good elves in the future that yet was and with all the prayers and hopes of all elves on this two-mooned world on the good elves side, that the future of nothing may never come to be.  It was a hope that left her little comfort and had her ever cursing her single and often heartbreaking gift of dreamspeaking the future. 

Also, on this day, she had once again rebuffed the advances of Dayven, once her lover and now a persistent nuisance.  Not unlike her headache, she reflected wryly.  Dayven was many times her senior; in truth he was a First-born and one of the original seekers.  He had helped in the founding of SafeHaven and he was a contributor to its descendants.  When she had been much younger, why as a lass of all of sixty years she had been intrigued and fascinated by the hot and cold son of First-comers.  His beauty had drawn her, his hot then cold personally had interested her, and his skill as a bedmate had contented her.  However, she had only been in for the fun, he had been all too serious and had started talking about them pledging as lifemates before the entire valley.  She would have none of that.  She had dropped him cold.  Yet he had pursued her with unwavering persistence and patience.  He would close in on her, and then he would back off.  He would challenge her with affection, and then agitate her with cool logic.   They were perfect for each other, so he would say.  And they were…very pretty together she did not dispute.  With his tall, angular grace of all hard lines and sinuous muscles, compounded by a hard-planed beautiful face, and cool blue eyes like a glacier fed lake, and with hair as black and as shiny as a midnight sky, he was a perfect contrast to her startling fairness.  For she was as pale as snow, with her hair being the purist white, so much so that it reflected prisms of color off its mass like rainbows, so that she seemed to walk in light wherever or whenever she was.  Her skin too, was so pale as to be white but translucent and rich in undertones of lavender, pink and blue tints.  Her eyes were her most stunning feature, neither violet (which was her mother’s eye color) nor magenta, but a strange and lovely jewel blending of the two.  Her nose was small and straight, her face a perfect oval, except for the centered widows’ peak, which she shared with many of her female kin.  Her lips were full and rose magenta in color, a perfect hue for her pale, yet translucent skin.  And to add to her truly lovely face was a body of all soft curves and abundance.  Indeed of her people, she was the most provocatively curvaceous.  Next to Dayven’s hard angles, her soft femininity was a perfect foil.  As he said they were perfect for each other.  Indeed as he had admitted more then once, with her he had found his softness, his gentleness.  She grimaced, remembering how cruelly she had rebuffed him this time.  Them she shrugged, trying to allay her guilt.  Time and again she had warned him that they were thru, yet he persisted.  Still, she could not this time easily forget his expression, his proud handsome face, struggling so hard for composer when she refused him once again.  How his eyes had gleamed, she remembered, and thought achingly…with what seemed unshed tears.

Feeling an unwanted surge of guilt for having hurt her one-time lover, she hugged herself and pressed on.  This day, indeed this last eight-of-days was proving to be a very uncomfortable time for her.

            She heard a roaring of laughter and longingly glanced back at the animated gathering of her people.  Why did she let this headache – as annoying as it was – drive her away from something she loved so much and saw so rarely?  The Gathering took place only once every eight years.  It brought all of the Haven folk together, the SafeHaveners (her folk) and the WillowBrook folk, to meet at the Place of Gathering for an eight-of-days.   She sensed her twin bother, who soul was linked to her own somewhere in that mass of happy Haveners and sent him a love-emotion which though it just brushed along his senses he felt and responded to in kind.  She was soothed and comforted by the surge of warmth she received in kind.  Her half-sisters, also twins she knew where also in the gathering, preening before the gathered masses of males.  Both of them lovely in their own right with varying shades of red hair and green eyes.  They had more of a likeness to their mother than she did, though they all shared the same mother.  They had her strong cheekbones and stubborn chin.  Why they even had the same shapely mouth that could stretch with a hearty laugh, soften with a gentle smile, or snarl with utter rage.  But like she, they shared the same centered widows’ peak, and the same tilt of the eye.  Both were taller than she, Shala reflected with a slight frown.  Curvaceous she might be, but regretfully short she also was, why even her Aunt Willow, who was small for a Havener, was taller than she.  At only five feet tall Shala considered herself under tall.

Two of her youngest siblings she noticed on her trek to the family’s pavilion.  Her bother Ral, who was the baby of the family at only an eight-of-years old, and her half-brother Forge at twice Ral’s age.  Forge, she thought not unkindly, was a bit of a puzzle, with two lovely parents Forge had somehow managed to be plain.  He was all brown; he even preferred brown clothing, however his brown hair was fine and soft, his brown eyes were lovely and his face, though for such a serious lad, was always friendly and patient.   She smiled in greeting to her siblings, little Ral, was not so little for all that he was the baby.  Ral came to with in a fingers length of Forge’s shoulder, which meant that in a year he would probably be able to look her in the eye.  Ral, being her full brother took after her and her twin, who took after their father in coloring.  His hair was white and off-centered for its part.  His eyes were a vivid sky-blue, as were her father’s and her twin brother’s.  But where she was under tall, and her snow haired twin bother like her father were of average height for elfin males, Ral at his young age left no-one wondering about his final height.  He would be tall, very tall, and strong and yet his young face for all his round cheeks and childhood softness was very lovely.  She smiled at her brother as she briefly imaged him in his adult years.  He would be beautiful…and a giant.  A beautiful giant.  The two of them shouted happy hellos and bright-suns to her as they gamboled past to rejoin the gathering.  What mischief they had been into she did not wonder about. 

The blue and gold banners of her parents’ royal pavilion were now thankfully in sight.  She aimed purposely for it, seeking its darkened interior to sooth her growing headache.  She wondered at it again.  What was causing this pain?  Why did it plague her so?  Sometimes it seemed but a dull throb, something easily ignored, but other times it pounded with in her skull like a persistent drum, unrelenting in its demand to be felt.  But why?  What did it seek from her?  If indeed it sought anything at all.  And yet – she could not avoid the one nagging thought – this headache seemed as if it were awaiting something.  Could it be a sign of some sort?  Could it be a possible warning of worse things to come?  What did it mean?  In seconds of contemplating the headache she felt driven almost to the edge of desperation and pain.  She sucked in a keening moan and as she crossed the threshold into her family’s pavilion she folded down and pressed her forehead against her knees, rocking in agony.  Waiting…waiting for the pain to subside once again.  Had any of her three parents or her five other siblings found her thus they would have run, no even flown to bring her a healer instantly.  But no one saw her, and the pain faded from the blinding crescendo that it had become to a gentle throb once again.  With eyes still watering Shala staggered to her feet and smoothed her fingers thru her snow-white locks, pushing the soft thick mass back off her face.  For a moment she reflected on cutting the mass short once again.  Her twin loved to tease her about her hair, saying that if she cut her hair she would lose half her intelligence.  Idly though she wondered if cutting her hair off, wouldn’t end these headaches?  Could the thigh-length tresses be the reason behind her headaches?

Shrugging at the idea, and in no way ready to follow thru now, Shala moved toward the back of the pavilion where her sleep-nest was and settled upon its cushioned surface for the hoped for relief from these headaches…if only in a temporary sense.  But she had barely closed her eyes when she heard a faint sound.  Normally she would not have been bothered.  For sound was everywhere, especially at this gathering.  But there was something secretive and furtive about this sound; something that said it was out of place and did not belong here.  Headache forgotten, Shala slipped silently out of her nest and without really thinking about it picked up the spear she had brought with her to the gathering and never touched since.   She rose in the close silence and listened for the repeat of the sound, which had driven her from the comfort of her nest-bed.  The sound was not so forthcoming this time.  But she persisted. 

Once again she moved outside, glancing carefully around for anything that looked out of place.  She saw and nodded at laughing and giggling elves, drunk with pleasure and euphoria as they went on rendezvous of their own.  But these she promptly forgot once they had passed out of site.  A few children ran to and fro, as children would, sometimes they were fascinated with the stories being related by the Oracle, and sometimes they just wanted to play.  A few animals padded about as well, but they were harmless, most of them were like pets anyway.  As much like pets as free spirited creatures could be at any rate.  No, they were not what had sent her senses into alarm mode.   She wandered about the pavilions, which had been set away from the main gathering area as was usual.  She saw a shadowy shape here and there but could not say they weren’t elves on a secret meeting.  But something finally stopped her.  A shape was slinking furtively from the pit-cave that her father Hammer, used for his smith work when he came to the gathering.  Galen had used his rock-shaper’s gift to lovingly form the underground forge for his friend and companion many gatherings ago when Hammer had expressed a longing to work as usual; because to Hammer, pounding out the moon-metal, shaping and heating it, and reshaping it was not work but pleasure.   But now, something else was going on at the pit-cave other than her father working his beloved forge.  She noticed the furtiveness of the shadow; saw the oddly proud profile as it glanced this way and that to check to see if anyone had noticed it.  She was in the shadows herself, so she was not seen.  She thought to call out and alert the gathering to this sneakery going on under their notice, and then she saw other shadows join the first and this raised her ire.  She counted a total of six such shadows, all husky in shape, which said to her male.  But male what?  The shapes were too stocky to be elfin, and she had never seen a human in her valley; and she somehow doubted one or even a small group of them would brave coming so close to so large a gathering of elves anyway.

Now, her curiosity was definitely peaked.  Watching the group assemble and quickly and quietly talk amongst themselves, she made no move, she saw and fumed about what they had helped themselves too, when they were showing each other and gloating about their success.  Thieves!  Thieves had stolen into camp and robbed them.  How dare they?  Angry, yet intrigued in spite of herself, she crept closer toward them, snarling softly when she saw one of the proudly displaying one of her father’s prized tools. 

Sunfire blast them!  She thought angrily. 

As the group headed away from the pavilions with their ill gained spoils Shala stealthily followed them.  She knew this area well, having explored it at her leisure the many times to gathering she had been in all her hundred years.  So she had no trouble following at a distance.  She considered the wisdom of sending for some of her fellows to assist her, but decided to hold off until she had some idea of where these lousy thieves were heading.  It would be she decided much more effective to trap and corner the whole lot of the crooks at once.

As she followed behind she tried to determine what they were.  Not human, for surely they did not match any of the memories she had shared with those who knew of humans.   No, these thieves were of a stranger stock.  They were broad, and of varied heights, close to average elf height for some, but many were hardly more than her own height, a few were even less than her height.  They were very wide across the shoulders and through the trunk, and seemed to be misshapen thru the head and neck, their hands she noted seemed excessively large and a few she thought had disproportional arms in comparison to their bodies.  But they could move with the same ease she had, having no visible trouble getting over, around or thru obstacles, in truth they also alarmed her with at least one display of strength, where unaided one had lifted a small tree trunk out of the way and casually tossed it aside.  She had only ever seen her father perform such a feat of strength and then only in a fit of rare rage.  Her father was a most gentle and patient soul.

But as she trailed them, one hour became two, and she wondered at her wisdom again.  She still knew where she was, so she was not afraid; and the forest was not yet dark, though evening was beginning to close in.  Steeling her nerve she resolved to follow just a bit longer, and should they fail to make camp for the evening she would stop her pursuit of them and send for back up.

Then, even as Shala made up her mind to continue for these few extra moments, she watched as they approached a rock face of a cliff, and pushing aside some brush revealed a round steel door that she would never have suspected was there if she hadn’t have seen it for herself.  She felt a moment of shock wash through her as she realized these thieves were organized and had likely been here for a time at least.  Long enough for sure to put a door in a mountainside.  She watched anxiously as one of the thieves, taller than the rest twisted and pulled a lever in the door, and the steel structure ponderously swung open.  She crept closer yet, caution aside as the thieves one by one disappeared through that open doorway in the mountainside.  As the last one stepped through and the door remained open she dashed out of the covering brush and peered around the opening.  A long rough-hewn stony tunnel greeted her eyes.   Even as she noticed the shadow shapes disappearing into the tunnels depths the door began to close on its own, as if by some kind of strange…magic?  For a brief moment she hesitated, knowing it would be far wiser to remain without and call for help, but as the door edged in closer and her chance to slip inside diminished she gave up on wisdom and made the wild leap of faith…which she knew to her constant regret…often landed her in trouble.  But even had she changed her mind, the door closed behind her…sealing her inside the mountain.  As she did have second thoughts she tried to find a way to open the door from within, but though the same lever existed as the one she had witnessed without, she could not understand the mechanism, or make the door open for her.

            Well, she thought to herself, aren’t I just the perfect nitwit?  It was then, when she knew she was trapped and beyond helping herself that she sent for help.  Reaching out was no great stretch, sending was one of her strengths, she had very good range; though by no means did it equal that of Sendor, whose gift was broadcasting.   She sought a mind that was closest to her own and thus most familiar, one indeed that she was always in some small way linked to, that of her twin Sholar.  When he answered his range was nowhere near a strong, and his sending was a little fussy.  She pursed her lips in wry amusement and teased **Drunk little Brother?**

            **Only with pleasure of pretty company big Sister**he responded, his thoughts still fussy, and tinged with amusement.

            She was graced with a picture of her seconds-younger twin with his arms wrapped around not one, but two voluptuous maidens.  She nearly chuckled at the image, except that she was a tad worried about her own situation.  Her brother, even in his casual mood must have sensed her concern for in a moment he was sending again, with alarm tingeing his clear thoughts this time **Where are you sister?  What is wrong?**

            Sighing softly she told her of her circumstances.  Silence followed for a moment after that, then she was blasted with another sending.  This one being from her mother, who chided her for her foolishness and queried her closely on where she was; then made her promise she would stay put where she was, hopefully out of danger, until a squad of rescuers came to her aid.

            For a moment at least she stayed exactly where she promised she would stay.  After all she was usually a good daughter.  Nor was it easy to disobey her mother when she was in Lord Ahani Mode!  However, she heard the tumblers in the door rattle over and knew that if she stayed put she would be caught…for there was no way her people could have reached this place so quickly, even if quite a few of them could fly!  Without really thinking again she dashed down the tunnel, looking for a side tunnel or even a niche to hide in, but there was nothing.  The tunnel finally opened into a huge cavern and it was bustling with activity.  Activity that stopped completely the instant her presence was known.   A lot of shockingly ugly and bluntly proud features faces gaped at her in utter and amusing surprise as they stopped what ever they were doing; be that eating, working, or admiring something that didn’t belong to them.  Feeling utterly foolish Shala squared her shoulders, sighted one of the thieves with property that was not his and stated:

            “That does not belong to you!  Return our pilfered property at once!”

 

            Mallet, could only gape in shock at the elfin female that had invaded his domain.  He scowled, and then he sent a glare at his under lieutenant, Grump.  Who had been in charge of this latest foray.  “I warned you Grump!  I told you to watch out for any nosy elf that put their puny little noses into our business!  You fool!”

            The one called Grump, flushed under his grayish toned olive skin and sent a resentment filled glare toward the unwelcome intruder.  A female of all things, daring to challenge them, and even worse – one of those cursed elves from the valley.  The female stood proud and defiant, which was hardly the correct posture for any female.  Still he had to admire her pluck.  Alone, cut off from her people, and she had the gale to demand the return of their hard earned property.  Thinking about it made him smile, then he was chuckling, and then finally he was laughing.  He didn’t care if others were giving him puzzled looks, if they couldn’t see the amusement in this, then to bad for them.

            Mallet, the king’s chief son and heir stomped toward the female, who though she quelled slightly, did not back down.  In fact she struck a defensive pose, stabbing her spear out before her in warning. 

“Stay back.”  Was all she said, it was enough at least for him to halt and inspect her again.

            She was, as all elves were, rather ugly.  With eyes too big and a nose much too small.  Actually, seeing her made him want to touch his own too small and ugly nose and curse his own three-quarters of elfin blood.  But he resisted, for he did not want anyone to see a hint of weakness in him.  Still, her body had abundant promise, which implied at a fecundity that was uncommon amongst her kind.  He started to softly hum to himself as he admired her body.  She had promise.  Her eyes, though much too big…were of a lovely and unusual color…and her hair, a treasure amongst them…was snow white.  Their king, his father, had that same snow white colored hair.  How curious?

            Finally he chuckled too; and he said generously, “Put away the pig sticker gel, what can you hope…a mere female…to do with it?”

            All he got for his reasonable request was a hot glower.

            His smile faltered somewhat and he spread his arms out expansively, “Now come on Gel, you are alone and with out hope of succeeding.  Give over the pig sticker.  Why we’ll will even be so kind as to escort you back to where you belong.” he offered, thinking to himself that it was the Breeders Den where she belonged.  Their numbers had been decreasing of late; no children had been born in over a generation.  Perhaps with her pleasantly rounded hips children would once again enliven these dark halls?

            But her response was not what he expected.  “You will return what you have taken!  And you will apologize to my folk for taking it.”

            Laughter, light and amused, resounded throughout the hall.  Mallet, shrugged, “Ah gel, you see I really can’t see myself doing that.”

            She cursed him, “Then you are human filth, to take what is not yours!  My father will come for what you have taken!  As will all my folk!”

            That raised a murmur of alarm.  One intruder was bad enough; a whole band of them was…unthinkable!  Mallet was starting to see red, “That is enough Gel, no one will come.  We have taken nothing of importance, not even you are worth the bother you imply.  But then…no female is.”

            The spirited lass gasped, “You have not taken me!  What do you say?  Are you sun-blasted insane?”  Now she truly was on the defense, backing away from him, and other gathering males and trying to put her back to a wall, a very intelligent and defensible strategy, if she was successful.  Mallet made as to move against her, while another angled in at her unprotected side.  The girl though did not take the bait.  She warily stabbed at each in turn and kept backing away. 

            Still watching and still admiring the girl, Grump thought it unfair of Mallet to try to take her in such a way.  The girl was brave, if a bit foolish.  He hoped that no female of the society would have ever allowed herself to get into such a situation.  Then he thought better of his concerns, for no female could have got into her situation, a society female knew her place, and confronting a male in his domain was not it.  A proper society wench would have meekly obeyed, and certainly not have offered any lip at all.  Still the girl was raised a different way, by different people, and they obviously didn’t restrict their females to the breeding dens as was done here.  Well, if he understood Mallet’s intent, the girl would learn her place.  She was, he thought now, rather pretty, her body was definitely nothing to frown at…though he thought longingly; she had nothing on his lovely Minnow, who would remain forever out of his reach.  For Minnow belonged to Mallet.

            More males were closing upon the girl’s position, she nearly had her back to the wall, when one more came out of the tunnel; which was nearly behind her too.  This one, seeing an opening, moved swiftly to close the space before the girl was alerted to his presence.  In an instance it was over and the girl was yelling in pain and dismay as her arms were twisted behind her back even as the spear was also wrenched out of her grasp.  Down on her knees she was forced, but still she glared, her eyes flashing like amethysts in rage.  Mallet, no longer threatened by her little pig-sticker (spear), now lunged forward to wrap his fist in her long snow-white tresses.  Though she gasped in obvious pain, her angry expression didn’t change to one of fear, it only became fiercer.  “Release me!”  She demanded.

            Mallet laughed with snide cruelty, “Perhaps when you are in-breeding we will let you see the sun again little twit”

            “I am an Elf you fool…I could not mate with you even if I wanted!” She jeered, disgust tingeing more than just her tone of voice.

            Mallet jerked back a lock of his own iron gray locks and growled, “Look you, twit!  See for yourself, we are the same!”

            The girl’s shocked expression at the sight of his peaked ears was priceless, as she saw more ear peaks being revealed on otherwise ugly beings her horror was complete.  “Abomination!”  She moaned in stunned disbelief.  Suddenly frantic she began to fight with earnest shrieking “Release me at once!  My folk are coming and they will destroy you!  Release me!”

            She seemed she clear in her belief that her folk would indeed come to her aid that once again the males around her shared an uncomfortable and uncertain look.  Grump voiced what the others were too timid to ask.  “Are you certain the Elves feel as we do about females?  What if they do come for her Mallet?  What then?”

            Mallet started to laugh scornfully, “Do you think we need to be afraid of a few weak and puny Elves, little brother!  If so, then quick, run back to the nursery, for clearly you’re not ready to be off your mother’s teat!”

            Grump flushed and felt the embarrassment of his brothers words score him deeply.  “I am no coward Mallet, I just want what is best for the society.  If you are wrong about the Elves, then is war best for the society?  All because of one puny little gel that isn’t impressed by your…charms?”

            Mallet snapped, “I tell you, we have nothing to fear.  The Elves care as little as we do about a female’s fate, what good is she but as a breeder?  Stop your twatty whining!”

            The slighted female in this little debate was growing very tried of hearing how useless she supposedly was, and her headache, which had been blessedly absent was returning with a vengeance.  She decided she had had enough of this entire episode and thought that she would end it the only way she could.  They had been fools not to search her.  Having grown up with a brother, who liked to test his strength on her in wrestling games, she was well used to the position one of her assailants had her in, she also knew how best to get out of if.  She shifted her weight forward, seeming as if to take the strain off her arms.  They allowed her this grace.   With the hold eased slightly, more than enough, she lunged forward and butted her crown as hard as she could into Mallet’s chin.  This move was unexpected and very painful for him; he staggered back and released his hold on her hair.  Next she cracked her knee down hard on the foot of the one holding her.  He released her with a bellow of surprise.  Within seconds she was back at the wall, this time with a knife and making for the tunnel, which was very close. 

            Grump, felt like laughing, but he knew Mallet would not appreciate his sense of humour this time, as if he ever did.  The girl had real spunk.  He grinned as the one she had left foot sore hopped about yelping that she had broken his toes.  Which was unlikely, now if she had used her heel…. Mallet on the other hand was sitting up and ruefully rubbing his chin.  A glint of admiration also now gleamed in Mallet’s blue eyes.  He too was impressed by the girl’s spirit.  Undoubtedly he was thinking what fine warriors she would breed.  Sigh, Mallet had a one-track mind.  

            The girl also had only one thought one her mind now, that of escape.  Seeing no immediate threat to her position she lunged for the tunnel, never aware of the new arrival that darkened it.  He came before his own guard, and his massive size stopped the girl cold as she ran right into him.  Her despairing cry was heard over his bark of alarm, even as his massive arms enclosed her and he disarmed her of her puny knife.

            Their king with his snow-white hair and grayish cast skin strode into the cavern, bodily carrying the defeated lass.  Oh totally defeated she was not, as she struggled uselessly against his hold as well.  His expression was of dismay and a growing anger.  He growled in his bass voice.  “What is this?”

            Mallet swallowed with sudden nervousness, his father had an uncanny attitude about elves, a love and hate mentality that sometimes spilled over against the more elfin of his motley subjects.  Mallet included.  “Uh…it…she’s a gift for you Fa – er…Sire.”

            Surprised the king lowered the lass, taking in her white hair and little else as she struggled all the harder to get away from him.  “You brought me an Elf?  Are you a fool?  Have you no sense of what her people will do when they learn we have her?  We are living in secret!  That was never meant to change!  Take her back to them now!”

            Mallet was shocked, “But father!  She’s just a female; all she’s good for is breeding!  I thought she could join your harem?”

            King sputtered, “Join my--! As if I’d want a puny bit of scrap like her!” then he laughed, “Have you learned nothing from me.  Elves aren’t like us; they treat their females like equals.  They will come for this one.  They don’t like to lose any of their number…I know.”  He sighed then and said to the girl, “Calm yourself child, no one will harm you.  My solemn oath on it.  I expect you have already sent to your folk and that they are on their way here even as my fool son argues with me?”

            Mallet flushed in embarrassment, his proud features turning mulish.  But the king’s eyes were on the female who had grown still and quiet in his light grasp.  He noticed one jewel toned eye peering at him thru that mass of platinum white hair and tried a reassuring smile, knowing how his bold nose and thick brows must look to her unaccustomed eyes.  The lass drew in a slow careful breath and finally stated.  “You know about sending?”

            He nodded solemnly.  He knew about many things.

            The lass pulled insistently against his hold and he saw no further reason to hold her.  She rubbed her arms when freed and continued to look at him through her tresses.  He stood quietly, and let her look, knowing how he must appear to her.  Abomination rang condemningly through his nearly sane mind.  He thought briefly of his mother, who had nearly broken him, he thought of the games, those he had won and those he had…lost.   He wondered if he would ever truly win against his mother, and then he shrugged, for she was beyond his reach now, content to play her games deep in the ocean.  He wondered what new kinds of abominations she was crafting with her magic. 

            Finally the girl thrust her hand through her locks and pushed them back off her face, she boldly stared at him, while his heart plunged into his gut.  He knew her face…!  She had his mother’s face!   Even as she asked hesitantly, “Who…what are you?” He was snapping, that long fought for sanity fleeing as he beheld her.

            With an animal growl he grabbed her.  Shouting “What game of yours is this Mother?  Think you white hair and jewel eyes can fool me?”

            She cried out in shock, as he roared at her, “Damn you Mother!  This is my realm now…my kingdom!  See!  See what I have accomplished!”  He dragged her about by the arm, sweeping his other hand about the indicate all he had managed with out her.  His descendants had created a fine realm for him.  He saw their shocked faces, but he didn’t really notice them as he swept past them, dragging her after him, intent on showing his mother that he didn’t need her or her games anymore.      

            “Ow!  You hurt me!  You gave me your word you would not harm me!” His mother in disguise cried.

            “Oh, oh yes!  How unmannerly of me!” He scoffed, “Look yon mother, my Harem; where all females rightly belong.  But not you, even the breeding dens are to good for you!”

            “Release me you fool!  I am not your mother! I am no ones mother!”

            “Lies!” He shouted in her face, “Mother of Lies!  I was – am your son!  You cannot deny me.  The low does not cancel the high Mother!  It does not!”

            That face, which he hated and yet loved so desperately, tensed with false sorrow.   She raised a trembling hand and touched his cheek, saying softly, “I feel for you…but I am not your mother.  Please…look at me.   You are clearly much older than I?”

            “Tricks!” He scoffed, “You can change you body, your face…why not the seeming of time upon you.  Your gentleness is a game too, be it not?  You try to fool me, but I will not let you.  This is my game now…”

            Stubbornly she planted her feet, “And I will not play it.  I tell you again I am not YOUR MOTHER!  I have a mother and a father myself and they will come for me!  Are coming for me even as you drag me about and call me your mother.  Ridiculous!  Impossible!”

            For a moment he seemed to sulk, as it was clear that his mother, this time refused to play.  How unsporting of her.  Then he thought to play a different game, for surely he could trick her up and get her to reveal herself.

            “A mother and father you say?  Tell me of them?”

            For a cautious moment she eyed the now calm seeming being, with his over sized nose and his heavy brow and his large high peaked ears all surrounded by a mane of hair as white as her own.  His eyes, which were a light amber-brown, still had a mad light in them.  She glanced about at the unsurprised faces of his subjects and realized that his tirades were not a complete surprise to them, he had preformed for them before.  Sighing she began to speak of her family.

            “My mother is Ahani, Lord of Haven Valley.”

            “A female!” someone jeered from the audience.  The lass sent him a quelling look for daring to challenge her.  The king gloated, she could silence with a look just as his mother could, as he suspected.

            She continued, “My father is Hammer, he is the black smith your subjects robbed this black day!”

            She paused a moment, then, “My Mother’s second lifemate is Galen, a glider and a rock shaper…he, with my father, will be able to bore his way through this rock to rescue me.”

            But though others jeered at her conviction of being rescued, a name she had said had all his interest.  “Hammer?” he murmured questioningly.

            She looked at him curiously, “Yes – my father.”

            He loosened his grasp on her entrapped arm.  “And his mother is?”

            She frowned, “My Grandmother Arianne…why do you ask this?”

            He released her, but did not move away.  His expression softened…his eyes moistened, and a smile curved his unnaturally wide slash of a mouth, so that creases cut into his cheeks.  “How is she?”

            The girl hugged herself, “Grandmother is well, naturally”

            “Has she…has she more children?”, he asked almost fearfully.

            “Father what is this – “, Mallet began.

            “Silence!”  His father demanded, glaring at him for a moment before returning his soft eyes to the girl, “Please…does she have a daughter?”

            The girl gave him a puzzled look, but saw no reason not to tell him what he sought, “Yes, my father’s sister Willow, and his half sister Gaisha.”

            His eyes misted.  She noticed that he seemed to be fighting for composure.  Hesitantly she reached toward him, as strange as he was to her…something about him left her heart aching to comfort him.  He grasped he hand, so gently, squeezing it between both of his, and pulled it up against his mouth.  “Do you have…siblings?”      

            She nodded, oddly enough, she felt tears starting to pool in her eyes…and they had nothing to do with fear or pain.  “My twin brother is named Sholar.  And my little brother is called Ral.  They are Hammer’s sons.  His children are those you ask about, yes?  And my Aunt’s children are Rana and Joyin.”

            He smiled softly, “And do they all look as you do, elfin…lovely?”

            She looked dreamy as she gently smiled, “My brothers, like myself take after our father.”  She looked at his cloud of white hair, and bravely touched it.  “Like you?”  She paused a moment then continued, “My cousin’s Joyin and Rana have black hair, like their—“

            “Mother?”

            She stared at him, and finally voiced again, “Who are you?”

            He drew he unresistingly into his embrace and whispered in a echo that shuddered throughout the cavern, “I am Two-Edge. …Your grandfather.”

            While all stared in shock as their king embraced the elfin female, Mallet fumed in impotent rage.  His niece, the chit was his niece?  And somewhere outside his oft heard about, but never known brother and sister were as close as a few hours away.  His brother likely even closer if the girl was right, which she probably was.  He glared, his rage turning to hate.  His father had told him often, to often, about his elfin siblings.  Also about the mother he had never known, would never know because he was not elfin enough!  Hate throbbed in his breast.  He itched to drive his blade into the girl’s back, and even to wound his father as he had been wounded again and again for his own imperfection.  Abomination the girl had called him, and compared to her perfectly elfin appearance abomination he must be.  He wondered how perfect her father was.  It was hard to picture…for he had been told that they were twins: he and his long lost brother were soon to be together – for the last time. 

            The crowd was beginning to murmur in consternation; they knew that the female was somehow their King’s granddaughter, though they knew not how that could be so.  They, unlike Mallet, had never been truly privy to his secrets.  They were his subjects.  They shared his blood and many of his ideals and convictions.  They didn’t always agree with them, but they obeyed.  Many a male looked on in envy though as he lovingly embraced the lass, showing such affection to a female; as they were not permitted to do.  To show such softness to a female, even your own daughter or granddaughter was to show weakness.  It had never been excused before now.  And surely only he…their King would ever be able to get away with such female softness. 

            Grump, looking on, thought of Minnow, his age mate and his secret love.  She had been denied him because Mallet had wanted her, and before today what Mallet wanted he got.  Minnow of course had no say in the matter.  She didn’t even like Mallet.  He glanced at his half-brother, thinking about all the times he had suffered in silence the abuse Mallet had heaped upon him, then his thinking stilled absolutely.  Mallet’s face, was awful to behold, so suffused with hatred and suffering, that had he not been moving against the girls back, with a knife bared and ready to strike, he may have pitied his brother then.  May have.  But the girl was unaware and her back was unprotected; could Mallet truly stab an unarmed, unsuspecting female in the back?  A cowards act to be sure.  Mallet had an insane light in his eyes, Grump wondered if he was even aware of what he was doing.  Grump moved knowing he would catch his half-brother’s attention.  Purposely he crossed between the embracing pair (his own father and his niece) and his half-brother.  Mallet drew up short, his eyes focused, and then he glared.  But at least he had not committed a coward’s act and now it was to late to try for King Two-Edge was shouting with joy and swinging the lass about as he yelled for all to hear.  “Look my people!  My Granddaughter…” He set her down laughingly, she smiled brightly at him, and he, (their King!) actually blushed with shy pleasure as he asked, “I do not know what your name be child of my child?”

            She dipped her head slightly, “I am Shala Dreamspeaker.”

            He laughed joyously “My people, my granddaughter Shala!”

            After that he proudly related the history of the kingdom that he and his subjects had created.  Two thousand years ago, he told, after he had sadly given up his elfin mate and two of his children so that they could join their own kind, he had found this place.  Along the way he had gathered a female troll, called Hasbet, and yet another elf, a rock-shaping male who called himself Lonewolf.  Hasbet had stayed until she died in a rockslide; Lonewolf had stayed until he decided to leave.  Where he had come from Lonewolf never told, but he was not a Wolfrider (a name which meant little to Shala), nor was he another survivor of Blue Mountain.  He had a troll’s mentality, and a coldness to females that appealed to Two-Edge at the time.  From his lacking of height and his bloodthirsty nature Two-edge suspected that Lonewolf was a Go-back (another name that meant nothing to Shala).  With his son, and Hasbet, and Lonewolf and a few human Foundlings his tribe had begun.  The idea that trolls, a word that amused Shala, and elves and humans could together make a tribe stunned and even nauseated Shala.  For she understood that in the making of the tribe blood had been mingled.  They were all of them to some degree, elf, and troll, and most horrible of all human.  The elf and the troll she understood to some degree, for the merging of both had come about to create Two-Edge who proudly claimed to be entirely unique.  They, then were able, with the other elf and troll to continue the mixed lineage begun in Two-Edge.  But how were they able to blend with the human?  Two-Edge could only shrug and say it was Mallet’s doing somehow, and he muttered something about his son being more like his Grandmother then his father would have wished.  Two-Edge looked very dark and moody as he related that bit.

            Mallet the recipient of that dark comment, trailed along in his father’s and niece’s wake, and though he suffered in silence, putting on the game face for them, he did suffer a growing hate that squeezed at his heart and threatened to stop his breathing.  At her graceful back with his eyes did he often stab daggers of jealousy and rage, though always was he careful to conceal his feelings whenever she or his father deigned to look upon him.  She, he noticed, had a queenly presence for all that she was still so young.  She, he acknowledged, would have looked better at his side, sharing his reign than cloistered away from all eyes.  Hers was beauty that…took ones breath away.  Even as he grew in his hatred of her, he also grew in his admiration of her poise and her spirit.

            Finally, laughing gently Shala interrupted her Grandsire’s proud exposé of the birth of his people, which he candidly called the Tralves, which was an ironic merging of Elf and Troll.  Not unlike his own people.  Still, she stressed that her people were coming, and since she had traveled much slower, while tracking the thieves she doubted that her people would take anywhere near the plus two-hours that it had taken her.  Since, as she reminded him gently, her people believed that she was in trouble.

This caused him the frown, and murmur, “True, all true…” He rubbed his bewhiskered chin as he mused.  “We can’t have them come storming in with tempers a blazing, that just wouldn’t do!”

Slowly he smiled, “I could, send an open greeting of welcome and an escort to lead them in…” his smile stretched to sparkle in his eyes, “I could order a feast, and a gathering of gifts…would they be interested in adding to their harems…er…I can see – not.”  He chuckled with disarming amusement at his granddaughter’s thunderous expression at his mere suggestion of harem girls.

Shala smilingly relented, “A feast would be fine…gifts are unnecessary…. You alone will be gift enough for my father.”

Mallet, fumed, shaking his head in disbelief as his father actually blushed at the lying chit’s praise, was he blind?  Couldn’t he see that the lass was playing him false?  He wondered if the chit’s sire was as good an actor as she was.  For surely, he thought sourly, she had to have learned to play the game so well from someone truly skilled in deception.  Look how easily she had fooled his father after all.  “I will go and lead – our guests – into the caverns sire—!”

They both rounded on him; the girl with her magenta and violet eyes, stared at him with mistrust and dismay, his father with suspicion.  “No!” Two-Edge barked cuttingly, “I need you here to oversee the preparations.”

Dismayed and startled Mallet yelped, “But father—!”

“I have spoken!”  Two-Edge retorted, and then he stabbed a finger at Grump, who had also followed them and said, “You will meet them and lead them within – safely.  Do you understand?”

“Me?” Grump sputtered, not quite able to believe that he had been picked over his half-brother for such an honour.  Then, so as not to miss this coveted assignment he snapped, “Of course sire, at once.  I will gather the appropriate escort and lead your – her people in…”

“Not too threatening an escort.” Two-Edge warned, smiling at the snowy haired lass clinging fondly to his massive arm.  How she beamed at him, her expression at once half disbelieving and half blissfully delighted that she could have discovered him at the end of her little adventure.

“I will call them and let them know that I am in no danger Grandsire, and to gently warn them of – your guardsman’s escort?”  She softly suggested.

He fondly stroked her downy soft mane and smiled with amazing gentleness, “No, let me…I have been too long out of practice **my precious child**.”

Her pretty mouth shaped into a surprised little “o”, and she gushed almost child-like, “Oh, you can send!”

Mallet, still silently fuming, sneered privately at the girl, and was amazed that his father could not see through her falseness; could her pretty face and her pedigree truly blind him to what she was?  He scowled as he saw his father’s face blank, and he sensed something magical happening though he heard nothing, his own mind seemed to feel something flutter across its surface.  He frowned at the girl, who happened at the very moment to be looking at him.  She frowned back, and then she deigned to look at him and study him thoughtfully.  Mallet, smiled slyly, what was she looking for he wondered?

The girl retained her hold on Two-Edge’s tense are, while the tralf king remained statue still.  But her curious mind demanded some answers.  She queried.  “I have heard it correctly…you are his son?  Then this would make you my uncle…yes?”

Mallet grunted his acknowledgement as he nodded. 

She frowned, looking at him carefully, taking in his light brown hair, his blue eyes, and his lumpy but not overly proud features.  She tilted her head most prettily to the side and frowned yet deeper.  “You…remind me of…someone.  My uncle, my uncle…?”

Nonchalantly he sauntered over, grinning mirthlessly, “Perhaps of your own…father?”

While he expected to be scorned at once, she only peered at him thoughtfully, “Perhaps.”

He smirked, snidely asking,” Is it true your mother is the leader of her people?”

The lass smile whimsically, her eyes softening with fondness.  “My mother is the Lord of Haven Valley, she has been the Valley’s Lord since before the founding.”

He scoffed, “Nonsense, a female Lord, who ever heard of such foolishness?  A proper female knows her place and keeps to it.”

She sassed back, “And I would suppose by your example that a female’s place is in the bower; pregnant and obedient?”

He regally dipped his royal head, “Just so.”

It was her turn to lightly and mockingly laugh, “I would love to see you try to put my mother…or any of the females of Haven in their place.  I dare say – most would skin you, a couple, less forgiving – would just kill you.”

Of course, he scoffed, as if a female could ever threaten him.  But she smirked at him, knowingly, and he flushed with angry wrath as he imaged her slighting him.  But she would allow more between them as she once again turned her considerable attentions upon his fawning father.  The fool must have concluded his business, what ever it had been that had him standing so still and concentrating so – fiercely.

“Did it tire you Grandsire?” She asked solicitously.

He wiped his heavy brow, which was damp and beamed at her foolishly, “Aye, lass, little am I used to such t’ings,” He bent conspiratorially near her delicately peaked ear and whispered secretively “I had little use for Sending even when I had more use for it…ah well tis done.”

Her amazing eyes glowed, “You reached my people?”

He cupped her pretty face in his big, gloved hands.  “I contacted your sire lass.”

She beamed and clapped with excitement, laughing happily “He’s coming?!”

“Did you ever doubt it lass?”

The fool! Mallet scoffed, softly sneering.  Feeling sick to his stomach he started to turn away.  His father noticing him, grunted, “And where are you off to in sech a snit?”

Shoulders tense, but not daring to turn back to face him, least his sire see his disdainful expression he said as casually as he could manage.  “I have the meaningful task of setting your hall to right – haven’t I sire?”

His father’s reply was just a grunt of assent, but then what could one expect when one was enamored with a female.  He scoffed again, as he stomped…carefully…away.

 

 

Mallet wore a scowl to challenge thunderheads, Minnow thought furtively as she stole a quick glance at her lord and master.  What, she wondered, had set him off so?  Did she dare even enquire, knowing his temper, and how he so enjoyed…dealing out punishment?  She shuddered delicately, pushing back a curly pewter lock.  Oh no Minnow don’t go there ya fool twit, she chided herself.   Anticipating him, she poured him a flagon of wine and set it before him well with in his reach.  What does he think of, brooding there so? She wondered. Rumors of strangers had filtered down to the breeding pits even, so she was not completely ignorant.  She knew that there was one new female in the caverns, and yet that female had not joined the rest of her sorry kind in the pits.  Indeed, rumor had it that the strange female was the King’s granddaughter.  And even more bizarre was the rumor that the female was an elf – of all things.  The very idea stunned and fascinated Minnow, how she wished she were brave enough to sneak up into the upper levels and see this stranger for her own self. 

Thoughtfully she stole a glance at him as he slouched in the overstuffed chair, from his inward looking expression she doubted he even remembered that she existed.  She could have wished that were true every day and hour.  For she had little feeling for him, and what feeling she had was wrapped around fear and not just a little loathing.  Furtively she glanced toward the doorway, could she leave with out being noticed?  Even as she thought of it, his big hand reached out and wrapped around her arm, and not gently either.

Wincing from the pain, Minnow allowed herself to be pulled toward her master.  Quietly and without protest, which she knew was useless; she stood before him, trying as hard as she might to compose her features into emotionless stillness.

“Where were you going?”  He growled.

She dared raising her eyes to meet his and said clearly, “Nowhere.”

“Humph!” He grunted, pushing her away from him and reaching for his flagon of wine instead.  He still glared at her as drank deeply, then wiping the purplesque liquid off his mouth he joked crudely, “What no poison?”

She didn’t deign to reply.

He frowned darkly, “You’re proud like her.  You don’t know your proper place any better than she does.” Then he smirked, “You just pretend better, wench.”

Once again he reached for her, and once more she did not try to avoid him.  He grasped her hand, which was small and delicate compared to most tralves.  But then, compared to most tralves, she was unlovely; everything about her was too small, except her eyes, which were too big.   He peered into her emotionless face and he smirked again, “Been moping for my brother lately?”

Minnow was proud that not even a flicker of emotion marred her calm face.  Grump was the one she would have chosen, had she been given a choice that is; for though he tried not to show it, he was gentle and good.  Mallet had taken her because he had known the affection Grump had for her, just as she had affection for him.  He had taken her not because he loved her, but because he wanted – as always – to hurt his younger half-brother.

He pulled her down onto his lap, where she perched stiffly, trying as she might to avoid his unwelcome touch.  He stroked his fingers through her pewter locks and murmured, “You do have lovely hair, Minnow.  At least in that you have a proper female’s charm.”  His fingers moved to stroke her cheek, while his eyes grew distant.  “She has hair of whitest snow.  Just like my sire’s it is.  And her eyes…like the rarest jewels.”  He mused absently.

Then he rose abruptly, shoving her away from him.  Hastily she placed some distance between them.  He growled, “Yeah, lovely in her way she is, but she will play him false as all females do.  Even now, he foolishly allows her kind within our domain.  The fool!”

Softly she admonished, “He is our King—.”

He rounded on her, and casually backhanded her, snarling as she staggered, “Do you dare gainsay me!  Do you?”

Fearing him, she shook her head, though it shamed her to cower before him, it would have pained her more…not too.  She watched him absently finger the hilt of his treasured dagger, a gift from his sire the king.  He mused again, even as he turned away.  “Yea, I must make preparations to receive them.  Hmmn, yea I must…”

Minnow shivered as he sauntered away, she had not liked the tone of his voice, nor the strange expression on his face.  While she rubbed her stinging cheek she wondered exactly who these strangers were that were coming to the tralf domain, and what exactly Mallet planned for them. He planned something despicable, she could be sure of that.  Minnow glanced toward the doorway; it faintly revealed the hall beyond, hewn out of solid rock.  That hallway led into the cavern proper, where should she dare to venture she would be revealed to be out of place and out of her station.  But could she just allow Mallet to do what ever he was planning?  If she did nothing, and something bad were to happen to these strangers, how would she ever live with herself?