Author's note: I have always been interested in Mareth's childhood. As we learned from Terry Brooks's First King of Shannara, Mareth's mother died giving birth to the girl. Her childhood is like a vague, disoriented and anguished movie film to her. So here I am, trying to recall and elaborate more on what she had done when she was a little girl...
Part I
The faint outline of a human figure slowly materalized out of the morning mist. As she walked closer toward the open, out of the lush green forest, her features slowly became distinguishable. She was a little girl, perhaps eight years old, small and slender looking. Unkempt shoulder length black hair glimmered in the morning sunlight, hanging about her smooth pale face. Perhaps, the most conspicuous trait about her might have been her eyes. A pair of large black eyes glimmered out of the foggy mist, which revealed a mysterious sadness that betrayed her emotionless surface. Wearing a long flowing black cloak, she looked like a vunerable girl who didn't seem to maintain the strength to lift up a log.
Peering up at the dusky morning sky, Mareth sighed deeply. She started to stroll down the rough path that led to a small village where her home was waiting. Each step brought her nearer to her house, a home that people exclude her, a home that she didn't feel warm or protected toward. She was considered an outsider, she was an outcast to everyone in there, save herself. She had to depend on herself. She had no one else to trust and rely upon. The forest, for the time being, was her sanctuary.
This, she thought, is the place where I can at least force a smile.
However, deep within her heart, she knew that she could not use the forest forever. The town wasn't her real home. It had never been. The forest was just a brief subsistute for the main home that she would discover soon. Her main home. Mareth never gave up on her thought that one day, someone would appear and take her away. He would take her to a place where she was supposed to belong to. He would. Her fath-. No, stop it. Stop it Mareth! Her mind screamed for her to halt. Please!
Obstinately, she shook her head violently and started to quicken her pace. She needed to stop thinking about him. She had to stop.
Birds sang their luxurious songs to greet the rise of the day. Mist still hung in thick blanket in the air, but was reluctantly receding as the day began to wake. Humming softly to herself to get rid of her thoughts for the man whom she had never seen yet knew, the lonely girl continued her way back to her village.
Mareth pulled her hood to conceal her face as she entered her village. She didn't want to attract any attention. She knew perfectly well how others think of her. She did not want them to gossip on her strangeness and origin anymore than now. She shivered slightly in the warmth of her cloak as a small gust of wind stirred. Walking swiftly, she passed rows of brick houses where people were just in the process of forcing themselves to wake up. A few adults were already out in the chilly streets, quickly doing whatever they were intending to finish. Mareth ignored them as she reached her house, which was located at the edge of the village.
She rounded the square house with its high thatched roof and opened the door silently from the backyard garden. Smoothly, she tiptoed quietly down the hallway, feeling her way by caressing her hands one inch by another on the walls. Finally, feeling the touch of her familair bedroom door, she yanked open it as silently as she could possibly manage and stumbled in. Taking off her red cloak, she flung it aside by the window and snuggled into bed. Pulling the thin sheets up tightly to her chin, Mareth waited. Soon, her foster mother could come to wake her up. Sighing, the little girl closed her eyes and pretended to sleep. Although, her eyes were closed, her mind hadn't gone blank yet. She thought about her situation. She knew that her foster mother would probably go really mad if she realized that Mareth had gone out without her permission. But what difference did it make? Mareth wondered. She would never yell me. She's afraid of me. Everyone is afraid of me. An ache suddenly resounded in her heart. Scared of me, scared of my magic. Taking a deep breath, she rolled over to one side and forced herself to quit thinking about it. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, her anguish, her ache, could not faint from her heart, let alone the intricate feelings and thoughts she had in her mind.
Author's note: I will continue this as soon as I have leisure. I have tons of homeworks right now. I might start writing Part II this summer!
Part I
The faint outline of a human figure slowly materalized out of the morning mist. As she walked closer toward the open, out of the lush green forest, her features slowly became distinguishable. She was a little girl, perhaps eight years old, small and slender looking. Unkempt shoulder length black hair glimmered in the morning sunlight, hanging about her smooth pale face. Perhaps, the most conspicuous trait about her might have been her eyes. A pair of large black eyes glimmered out of the foggy mist, which revealed a mysterious sadness that betrayed her emotionless surface. Wearing a long flowing black cloak, she looked like a vunerable girl who didn't seem to maintain the strength to lift up a log.
Peering up at the dusky morning sky, Mareth sighed deeply. She started to stroll down the rough path that led to a small village where her home was waiting. Each step brought her nearer to her house, a home that people exclude her, a home that she didn't feel warm or protected toward. She was considered an outsider, she was an outcast to everyone in there, save herself. She had to depend on herself. She had no one else to trust and rely upon. The forest, for the time being, was her sanctuary.
This, she thought, is the place where I can at least force a smile.
However, deep within her heart, she knew that she could not use the forest forever. The town wasn't her real home. It had never been. The forest was just a brief subsistute for the main home that she would discover soon. Her main home. Mareth never gave up on her thought that one day, someone would appear and take her away. He would take her to a place where she was supposed to belong to. He would. Her fath-. No, stop it. Stop it Mareth! Her mind screamed for her to halt. Please!
Obstinately, she shook her head violently and started to quicken her pace. She needed to stop thinking about him. She had to stop.
Birds sang their luxurious songs to greet the rise of the day. Mist still hung in thick blanket in the air, but was reluctantly receding as the day began to wake. Humming softly to herself to get rid of her thoughts for the man whom she had never seen yet knew, the lonely girl continued her way back to her village.
Mareth pulled her hood to conceal her face as she entered her village. She didn't want to attract any attention. She knew perfectly well how others think of her. She did not want them to gossip on her strangeness and origin anymore than now. She shivered slightly in the warmth of her cloak as a small gust of wind stirred. Walking swiftly, she passed rows of brick houses where people were just in the process of forcing themselves to wake up. A few adults were already out in the chilly streets, quickly doing whatever they were intending to finish. Mareth ignored them as she reached her house, which was located at the edge of the village.
She rounded the square house with its high thatched roof and opened the door silently from the backyard garden. Smoothly, she tiptoed quietly down the hallway, feeling her way by caressing her hands one inch by another on the walls. Finally, feeling the touch of her familair bedroom door, she yanked open it as silently as she could possibly manage and stumbled in. Taking off her red cloak, she flung it aside by the window and snuggled into bed. Pulling the thin sheets up tightly to her chin, Mareth waited. Soon, her foster mother could come to wake her up. Sighing, the little girl closed her eyes and pretended to sleep. Although, her eyes were closed, her mind hadn't gone blank yet. She thought about her situation. She knew that her foster mother would probably go really mad if she realized that Mareth had gone out without her permission. But what difference did it make? Mareth wondered. She would never yell me. She's afraid of me. Everyone is afraid of me. An ache suddenly resounded in her heart. Scared of me, scared of my magic. Taking a deep breath, she rolled over to one side and forced herself to quit thinking about it. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, her anguish, her ache, could not faint from her heart, let alone the intricate feelings and thoughts she had in her mind.
Author's note: I will continue this as soon as I have leisure. I have tons of homeworks right now. I might start writing Part II this summer!