Chapter Ten
The Nature of the Beast
"Gandalf," Mina whispered softly, watching as Eowyn and Eomer raced each other on the backs of their beautiful Rohirric horses. The Wizard turned to her, frowning slightly. "Gandalf, why haven't you killed me?"
"Killed you?!"
"Yes," she murmured almost dreamily. "Why not kill me? A strange demon who thirsts for blood? Am I not evil?"
Gandalf puffed on his pipe for a long moment, eying her intently. In her pale gray shirt, leather breeches, and dark green tunic, her hair woven into a messy braid, she looked almost like a Ranger, her dark hair tumbling around her shoulders, her emerald eyes smoky with thought.
"No," he said finally. "You are not evil. In your world, in Lower Earth, are there not different breeds of vampire? Those that kill for pleasure, those that kill not at all? Vampires who are possessed by evil, and vampires who are born?"
"Yes," Mina replied. She watched the rippling muscles of Eomer's stallion, and the horse's mane flowing out behind it as he galloped against SilverFoot, Eowyn's mare. The stallion's long, golden mane flew out banner like on the wind, mingling with Eomer's long, golden hair. She sighed softly. "Do you not think me cursed?"
"Only in love, Minalie, and that is your own doing. So you thirst for blood. Is that any different than we who thirst for water or ale? Men, Elves, Dwarves, Hobbits… we kill to survive. It is our nature, because that which we consume must die. But you, dear one, you do not kill, except in battle. Who, then, is the better? We of Middle Earth? Or the last honorable member of the Ruby Kiss? The woman who, when I uttered the spell to someone help, no matter where from, rushed to my aid the moment she saw I was under attack, though you knew me not?"
"Gandalf…."
He rose and walked back inside, leaving her to think on his words, surprised at the turn the conversation had taken. She had expected condemnation, and yet… yet Gandalf offered none. And how could she, a mere vampire, hope to cloud the mind of an Istari, even subconsciously, to sway his thoughts to her favor? She couldn't.
Which meant… which meant maybe she wasn't so cursed merely by her nature, after all. Perhaps not, after all….
She focused her gaze on Eomer as Eothain, his second, cried, "And Lord Eomer is the winner!" She smiled softly, wondering if Gandalf were right.
oo8oo8oo8oo
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