Monsters In The Moonwood: Chapter One
Ok, here's the deal. I have other works in progress that I really should finish first, but I have had a really rabid plot bunny attached to me for a day or two now, and I figure if I give it what it wants it might stop biting me…
This is a highly AU story wherein Tarathiel and Innovindil meet while prodding monster buttock in the Moonwood. WARNING: Rated M for elf smut and gore.
Inspired by an episode or two of 'Supernatural' and 'The Village'.
Random smatterings of elvish are Sindarin, which is somewhat out of place in a Forgotten Realms setting I know, but what the hey. I like it anyways.
Disclaimer: I do not own Tarathiel, Innovindil or the Moonwood : (
The elf paused, head cocked and ears pricked. She kept an arrow on the string, though her bow was pointed downwards, as she stepped lightly, soundlessly across the leaf-littered forest floor. The elf was a creature of the forest, born and bred, and normally totally at home in the tree-shadow. But today she sensed something was wrong, some…presence…that shouldn't have been there lurking amongst the trees.
Innovindil was a youngish elf, perhaps five feet in height, with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Her figure was deceptively slim and delicate, but despite this Innovindil was a warrior, as many an unfortunate foe had learned. She knew well how to use the twin knives sheathed on her hips.
Far to her left another elf of her clan, a slender, brown-haired male, crouched to examine something at the base of a tree, then padded silently over to join her.
"Blood," he explained, showing her the dark smear on his fingers. "I truly begin to fear for our kin."
Innovindil nodded, biting at her lip. She and her small clan, about a dozen elves all told, were passing through the area normally travelled by another, larger clan. They had expected to meet up with their kinfolk by now, exchange a few stories, maybe share a meal…but something was terribly wrong in this part of the wood. They could all feel it, the hair-raising, spine-tingling chill which forewarned of danger.
And then they had found the corpse.
It was a stag, they eventually puzzled out, large and majestic. But the way the body had been ripped and torn was like nothing any of the elves had ever seen. The brutal force that must have been applied was astounding. Yet there were no tracks, no sign of any other creature.
No sign at all. No birds singing in the trees, no squirrels hopping from branch to branch, no bugs chittering and rustling in the leaf-litter on the forest floor. The silence was nerve-wracking, and oh-so wrong.
Innovindil and her companion waited until the other members of their clan began to catch them up before moving on. They were the forward scouts, as it were, with the others moving in a tight knot, the three youngsters- one only four years old- who were the clan's pride and joy kept safe inside a ring of adult bodies.
Still, scouts though they were, these two did not wish to be separated from their kin when such peril loomed thick upon the air.
The group continued on, and Innovindil- though she did not let her mind wander from the task at hand- thought that she would have liked to visit this part of the wood under less harrowing circumstances. The forest here was older than in her usual stomping grounds, the trees tall, with trunks of astounding girth. Everything was lush and green, and if the silence had not been so absolute and forbidding the young elf believed it would have been a most wonderfully serene place.
There came a whistle to her left, where the brown-haired male had evidently found something else. Innovindil trotted soundlessly over at his call, stooping to examine the scuff marks on a mossy stone he pointed out to her. It might have been made by the slip of an elven boot, though surely the feet were a bit too small for an adult's. It was unlikely an adult elf would have left such an obvious trail either, but one was discernible to the expert trackers, meandering up a stony hillside, following the path of a little trickle of water.
The scouts waited and conferred with the other members of their clan. This seemed the best- and in truth it was the only- lead to finding their fellow elves, and the elders of the clan were desperately concerned with the strange state of the forest. They wanted to speak with the elders of the clan which normally haunted the region, and perhaps offer their services in restoring equilibrium to this particular part of the Moonwood.
So the group moved off once more, carefully following the faint trail as it wound uphill, to stonier areas, less heavily wooded. There was less moss too, and the tracks became increasingly difficult to follow, until not even keen elven eyes could follow them any more.
Keen elven ears, however, caught the faint, tantalising hint of voices on the wind and the chase was on once more.
They hadn't far to go before a melodic elven voice rang out across the forest.
"Halt!"
Innovindil looked up, as did all her clan, to see a tall (for an elf), handsome male regarding her from the top of a boulder, bow drawn. In deference to the fact that it was other elves he was addressing he had it pointed toward the ground, but Innovindil knew he could raise it and fire, accurately, in the blink of an eye.
"State your business," the male demanded crisply, his gaze searching their little group thoroughly. Innovindil glanced back at the eldest of the clan, a venerable female, wondering what to say, but a second voice rang out.
"Peace, Tirith. It is safe enough to let them pass."
A second male, equally tall and even better looking (so Innovindil thought) stepped lightly up to join his companion, giving the first elf a companionable clap on the shoulder. The bow lowered, and the male's stance relaxed, seeming a little embarrassed. "You'll forgive my young friend his enthusiasm," the newcomer continued, giving the first elf another reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, "T'is not a safe part of the woods that you travel in. We are all a little on edge."
Innovindil wondered what reply she should make, but she was spared the necessity when one of the older males of her own clan stepped forward, his young daughter cuddled against his shoulder.
"Tarathiel, my friend!" he greeted the newcomer warmly. "Glad we are to have found you!"
The elf, Tarathiel smiled, leaping lightly down from his high perch to greet his friend and tickle the little one under her chin. "Mae govannen, Randir. What brings you and your family here?"
oOo
Tirith guard (being used as a name)
Mae govannen Well met
Randir wanderer (being used as a name)
oOo
Tarathiel led them around a high wall of jagged rocks to the small opening (guarded by two very serious looking elven warriors) which let them into the open space behind. It was a good place to set up camp, Innovindil thought, looking about her. Secured on three sides by the wall of rocks, and bordered by a deep stream on the fourth, it was an easily defensible position, if a little cramped with such a large clan sheltering inside.
And clearly these elves expected trouble. Nearly thirty strong, a full third of the adults were clearly on watch, weapons at the ready. The others bustled about, preparing food, washing children or honing their weapons, but no where were there any elves relaxing. Even the clan's youngsters seemed subdued, most clinging to the legs of their parents as they stared wide-eyed at the strange elves being led into their camp.
A flurry of activity to one side caught Innovindil's eye- two elves, male and female, were hurrying forward to greet Nathron, her clan's elder. All three embraced warmly, like old friends, and she figured this pair must be the elders of the larger clan.
"Maethor! Meril! It is good to see you again, my friends!" The pair, particularly the female, seemed overjoyed to see her.
"Oh, Nathron! It is good you have come," the female exclaimed, pushing a stray lock of silvery-blonde hair behind her pointed ear. "We are greatly in need of your wisdom."
And with that the three elders retreated to a secluded alcove in the rock wall, talking urgently all the while.
With their conversation no longer able to divert her, Innovindil let her gaze wander aimlessly. She found it drawn to the male who had brought them here, Tarathiel. He was older than she was, and very handsome, with hair as blue-black as a raven's wing, perfectly matching blue eyes and pale, porcelain skin. Like all full-blooded elves he had a delicate, lithe build, but despite his beauty there was something tangibly masculine about him.
Innovindil let her eyes linger appreciatively as he moved about the camp, but any romantic fantasies she might have been harboring soon came to a crashing end. There came a call from across the stream, and a group of four more elven warriors approached, running lightly out upon a strong branch which stuck out above the water to leap boldly off (and it was quite a jump) and land this side of the stream.
Tarathiel came forward eagerly to greet the foremost of them, a red-headed female, with a loving kiss. She was tall- half a head taller than Innovindil, at least- and of unusually solid build for an elven female. Her tight leather garments showed off well-rounded hips and an ample bust which made Innovindil feel inadequate indeed! As the pair, arms comfortably about each other's waists, walked up from the stream the young moon elf could see that she had a pretty face, though it was marred by a wicked scar that curved under her eye down to her nose before acing down towards her lip, in a sort of arrow-head shape.
Odd, pale green eyes caught Innovindil's challengingly for a moment, as if daring her to make some comment about the scar, but then the couple were happily chatting to the members of her own clan whom they clearly knew, Innovindil obviously forgotten.
Repressing the disappointment that welled within her- it was not as if she knew the male anyway- the young elf turned her attention to her own friends, and the setting up they themselves had to do.
oOo
Nathron weaver (female elder of Innovindil's clan)
Maethor warrior (male elder of Tarathiel's clan)
Meril rose/ flower (female elder of Tarathiel's clan)
oOo
While the adolescent elves- those in the limbo-like state between child and adulthood- made sure the crèche of elflings was occupied, and not going to overhear anything that might frighten them, the adults filled in the newly arrived warriors on the unsettling situation.
Something- no one here had actually laid eyes on it- had been haunting the region for a tenday. The mutilated corpses of dear, boar, and even a bear, plus a myriad of other, smaller creatures, had been discovered, some partially devoured and others apparently killed for no other reason than to slake bloodlust. Many of the animals inhabiting the region- those not slaughtered, that was- had evidently fled to safer pastures.
But that was not the worst of it. Two young elves, a courting couple, had fallen prey to the creature, or whatever it was, just a week ago. Her hand and his head had been all there was left for their friends and family to find.
So the region's resident clan had fled to the border of their domain and set up a defensible camp. During the day a handful of the better warriors would attempt to track the creature- for the death of the two elves only strengthened the group's resolve to rid the Moonwood of this blight- but so far without success. At night the clan drew together and huddled fearfully in the dark, hearing…something…prowling about out there.
The past two nights had been the worst- it seemed that the creature, whatever it was, had scared away most of its potential prey, and had most definitely come closer to the elven camp than ever before. The guards at the camp's outer edge reported seeing gleaming eyes peering out at them from between the trees, and marks that could have been made by large, wicked claws, were all about the perimeter the next morning.
All of Innovindil's small clan were surely glad they had found their kin before darkness fell!
So far the power of the elders, Maethor and Meril, had proven adequate to keep this unknown evil at bay, but they had felt it testing them, probing their defences, and worried that it gathered itself for an assault.
oOo
Twilight fell, and the elves- who normally would have been dancing and singing in the starlight, celebrating the coming together of the two clans- were quiet, huddled protectively about their youngsters. Warriors guarded the rock wall and the bank of the stream, keen eyes peering anxiously out into the night, keen ears straining to catch the slightest sound.
Innovindil found herself next to the handsome Tarathiel above the rock wall, gazing down to the forest proper. His mate, on his other side, fingered her heavy bow anxiously.
"Look," she breathed, inclining her head slightly. "To the right of that beech."
Sure enough, a glitter of eyes could be seen in the deep pool of shadow at the beech's base.
"Hold your shot," the male whispered back. "We know not that this is the creature."
The red-haired female slowly took aim.
"Mikki!" her mate whispered frantically.
The eyes blinked once, twice, and were gone.
All three elves let out a long, slow breath, almost harmoniously, and the red-head, Mikki, gave a little laugh. Crouching, she grinned ruefully at her mate. "Garo estel ned nin," she told him, and the two shared such a tender look that Innovindil felt quite the voyeur. As she blushed, looking away, she thought she saw the older female shoot a sharp glance her way around Tarathiel's shoulders, but she could not be sure.
oOo
Garo estel ned nin Have trust in me
oOo
The night passed by mostly uneventfully. Evidently the eyes made a full circuit of the camp, for others reported seeing them, but at the slightest lift of a weapon they were always gone.
Mikki hoped down from the wall to have some breakfast and a nap- she would return later to relieve Innovindil, who would likewise have to return to relieve Tarathiel.
The young female and the older male sat in silence for a little while, gazing out over the forest. Slyly, when she knew Tarathiel was not looking at her, Innovindil took the opportunity to study him closely, indulging herself with a fantasy or two. She blinked and flushed when he turned suddenly to look at her, and she averted her eyes, drawing a soft chuckle from his lips.
"You make me think I must have something on my face, pen vain, when you stare at me so. Or have I something dreadful tangled in my hair?"
"I- forgive me- I did not mean to stare."
She looked up to see him smiling gently at her, and her blush deepened.
"Aye, I'll forgive you, if you tell me your name?"
"Innovindil," she replied unthinkingly. He nodded and smiled at her again, and she blushed some more. Neither spoke again until Mikki returned some hours later, when Innovindil offered a brief word of farewell before scurrying off. This time there was no mistaking Mikki's glare when she saw the pink tinge which still suffused the blonde's features.
oOo
pen vain beautiful one
oOo
There was no mistaking his lover's bad mood. Tarathiel, weary, and with at least two or three hours before he could begin to hope for Innovindil to return and relieve him, did not feel like having to deal with it, but it wasn't as if he could go anywhere.
When Mikki turned a thunderous glare on him he opened his arms, offering a hug, and she came and rested against him, seemingly placated. The quiet only lasted a short while though, he could tell by her pensive expression that she was brooding.
"She can't keep her eyes off you, that one," the female warrior began.
"T'is just a little crush, is all," Tarathiel was quick to soothe, kissing his lover's temple. "She'll get over it."
"You like her," his lover accused.
"She seems nice enough," the male agreed. He knew from experience that anything sounding remotely like a protest might be taken as evidence of guilt.
The red-headed elf woman gave a great "Humph!" crossing her arms.
"It's not the first time," Tarathiel said softly into her hair, resting his cheek on top of her head. "And it never bothered you before."
Another grunt was all the answer he got.
The male sighed softly, squeezing his lover a little tighter. He knew what was troubling her- that was no great mystery.
Mikki's scar was only a recent edition, and she was terribly insecure about it. No matter how many times he told her that he still thought her beautiful- and he did, truly- she just didn't seem to believe him. Ever since she'd received the wound she seemed to feel that he was going to leave her for another female, which he had no intention of doing. Still, Tarathiel was feeling put upon, and wished she'd stop haranguing him for every appreciative glance that got thrown his way. It wasn't as if he had asked for them.
Closing his eyes he rested against his sulky mate, wishing fervently for a little normalcy to be restored to his life.
I know, I know, I haven't gotten to either the promised smut or gore yet, but be patient, it's coming. I'm just setting the scene. If Innovindil seems a little OC, it's because I'm attempting to write a younger, less experienced version of her.
I found this in a list of elvish phrases, and rather liked it:
"Ae ú-dhambeth tôl o chen; ú-narn tôl o nin" – it should translate (loosely) as:
"If no review comes from you; no story comes from me" Isn't that just the best?