Mirror of Remorse
By J. CA
VICTIM
The pain was terrible.
It was not the first time Tevelai had been molested, yet each time the hurt was fresh and almost unbearable. She could not believe she had just submitted herself to the crooks' lust for another time--well perhaps she did not completely submit, but she let it happen anyway.
She could have killed herself last time, and then they would not have another chance of getting her. Yet she knew it was not possible for her to do so. She still had a loving family.
They wanted to help her. They were, of course, not unsympathetic, but they did not know what to say to make her feel better. They just told her to be careful, hide, run away or fight back if ever again, Elune forbid, the crooks should strike. Yet how could they know what it was to be disarmed by terror and pain? Even if she did fight back, she doubted that it would do anything but to prolong her suffering.
This time, even though she was hurt, she had a last reason to live. She wanted to find her mysterious rescuer and return his cloak before she tried to kill herself again.
Or perhaps she subconsciously did not want to die yet?
But why would she? Her life was, crap, if no other word could express it better.
Her father died in the Third War when she was just turning into a woman. Her mother never quite came out of her shock and grief. The responsibility of the whole family was left to her eldest brother Oaltil-- altogether six siblings.
Somehow Tevelai was the only one who was constantly in trouble, even though it was seldom her fault.
She tried to enrol in the army as her elder siblings all did, but she was not qualified because she was physically too weak. She learned how to read but was not terribly good at it. Tried drowning herself in a lagoon before, but Oaltil rescued her and ironically she ended up learning how to swim. Nothing was right for her.
Some fate it was that she stumbled across the crooks' camping site in a forest glade. It was midday and she could not shadowmeld. She hid behind a tree and hoped that no one would see her. Most of them were sleeping, but two were standing guard. They spotted her.
They moved towards her, "Hey, back for more fun?" One of the guards asked.
Damn, why were her feet stapled to the ground? She could not move, could not run. Certainly it was not possible to punch them in the face.
Her body was crap. She was just about to dispose of it anyway. But she needed to be alive to return Ardomael's cloak. Finally, she managed to make herself step back, turn around, and run.
Tears flowed down her cheeks as she realized that it was going to happen again. The two men caught her by the hair and knocked her to the ground. She landed on her back and desperately trying to protect Ardomael's cloak from the fate of being torn.
Out in a distance, a faint and sad melody of a flute was heard. It was soft yet it penetrated her heart. It returned to her the strength to fight. She would not go down so easily. Not for this once.
The crooks warned each other, "It's the Flute Witch again! Run!" They ran for cover.
Tevelai got up from the ground, still clutching tight to the cloak in her hands. Their hasty retreat surprised her, and even more so when they covered their ears and dropped to the floor, paralyzed as if they were in pain. To her, the music was soothing and intoxicating and represented no harm. But she did not know that to them, it was high-pitched and tormenting.
Whoever this Witch was, or why they were so frightened of her, Tevelai was grateful.
The flutist approached. Like her melody, she was soft and elegant. She was tall, lilac-haired, and her skin was a light shade of pink--a High Elf? She looked Elvish indeed, yet neither a Night Elf nor a High-borne. She was beautiful, and even deity-like.
She put down her wooden flute. "Are you all right?" She asked, her voice too, was pure and fascinating.
"Don't worry," Tevelai sighed, "I can live it." She did not want to explain that it always happened to her.
The mysterious elf asked her to sit. Putting her flute to her lips again, she said, "You don't have to face it on your own."
She started playing.
"No, please." The crooks rolled on the ground, "Please stop..."
She did not stop.
Tevelai listened. The melody told the pain that the flutist herself had been through, and the comfort that she found in music. She had no idea what kind of power this strange elf possessed to be able to use her flute for both healing and punishment.
When the Flutist was done, she indeed felt much better. But the crooks were on the ground, not conscious, but peacefully asleep.
The Flute Witch held Tevelai's hand, "I am named Naamiel. Would you tell me your name?"
"It's Tevelai," She said, admiring the Flute Witch's name. It meant 'bright light' in Elvish, and this Naamiel did come into her dark world in the nick of time like a bright light.
"That's a beautiful name," Naamiel smiled. Tevelai thought she was just being polite. 'Tevelai' meant 'little one', and she was, indeed, a little one, unimportant, incapable.
Referring to the two unconscious crooks, the Flute Witch said, "Listen, Tevelai. You will not need to fear them. When they wake up from their slumber, they will become righteous men."
Tevelai was not sure she totally believed that, but there was no point in doubting.
"How could you just floor those guys without even laying a finger on them?" Came a third voice.
Tevelai and Naamiel turned and saw Ardomael, standing there with his sheathed blade swung over his shoulder. On the second day of his runaway he realized the worst part was not having anything to do. Of course he could go hunting for his breakfast or 'explore' the forest. Other than that, there was nothing else. He heard Naamiel play, and he was drawn to the music, "Is that some kind of magic?"
Naamiel shook her head, "No, it is not magic. This is what all elves are gifted to do."
"Can you teach me?" Ardomael seemed interested in her flute.
"Of course," was the gently reply. There was no disgust in Naamiel's voice, even though he was not completely elf-looking. He felt close to her, somehow. Perhaps she was a mixed as well?
Tevelai interrupted the conversation by returning the cloak to him and thanking him again for his help. He snatched it from her without saying anything. She guessed that was his way of doing things.
Naamiel put in, "Say thank you to Tevelai."
"Thank you," Ardomael grumbled, "You sure sound like my mother."
"I assume that wouldn't be a bad thing," Naamiel remarked.
"If I tell you she's one big hideous Orc with a hoarse, terrible voice?"
"Obviously she's not, from the way you are telling me this."
"Right," Ardomael shrugged, "It's my father that's the Orc. My mother is a Night Elf." He stopped right there. Rituals, he figured, all his life, he was just trying to explain himself.
But Naamiel did not ask him to explain. Her eyes held so much wisdom, and he would not be surprised if she already knew everything there was to know about him.
"Come with me," She said to him, "We will take Tevelai home, and then I can teach you how to play the flute."
Tevelai did not want to go. Not when she had just found a lifeline. She did not want to go back home to the void and let darkness take over her again. She would plead or beg, "Please, don't send me home."
Naamiel's silvery eyes fell on Tevelai's face with comprehension. She nodded, "Then, you can come with us."
Questions/comments, pls email Jen H. Concept at jenconcept@yahoo.ca or ardentsq@hotmail.com.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Took me long enough to update. I apologize for the delay. My browser was down (and so was the server of FF.net, I heard). Kill IE! Kill IE! I downloaded Netscape, and cool, it works again. Then, I suffered a minor writer's block and truckloads of laziness, so pardon me.
This chapter is kind of gloomy. Just my mood & papers & everything. It's sorta starting to sound non-Warcraft...I'll steer it back somehow. And yeah, Blizzard said sorry for not hiring me (I wish!) because my invention the Flute Witch is too cool (I wish!).
Uh-hum. Thanks, Tyraa Rane and Ira Poon for your almost instant reviews for chapter 2. Patience, my friends. Why I put Aszune in the story will soon be revealed...I, er, hope I get there and still make sense. Tyraa Rane, thank you for your concern. I'm better now.
VICTIM
The pain was terrible.
It was not the first time Tevelai had been molested, yet each time the hurt was fresh and almost unbearable. She could not believe she had just submitted herself to the crooks' lust for another time--well perhaps she did not completely submit, but she let it happen anyway.
She could have killed herself last time, and then they would not have another chance of getting her. Yet she knew it was not possible for her to do so. She still had a loving family.
They wanted to help her. They were, of course, not unsympathetic, but they did not know what to say to make her feel better. They just told her to be careful, hide, run away or fight back if ever again, Elune forbid, the crooks should strike. Yet how could they know what it was to be disarmed by terror and pain? Even if she did fight back, she doubted that it would do anything but to prolong her suffering.
This time, even though she was hurt, she had a last reason to live. She wanted to find her mysterious rescuer and return his cloak before she tried to kill herself again.
Or perhaps she subconsciously did not want to die yet?
But why would she? Her life was, crap, if no other word could express it better.
Her father died in the Third War when she was just turning into a woman. Her mother never quite came out of her shock and grief. The responsibility of the whole family was left to her eldest brother Oaltil-- altogether six siblings.
Somehow Tevelai was the only one who was constantly in trouble, even though it was seldom her fault.
She tried to enrol in the army as her elder siblings all did, but she was not qualified because she was physically too weak. She learned how to read but was not terribly good at it. Tried drowning herself in a lagoon before, but Oaltil rescued her and ironically she ended up learning how to swim. Nothing was right for her.
Some fate it was that she stumbled across the crooks' camping site in a forest glade. It was midday and she could not shadowmeld. She hid behind a tree and hoped that no one would see her. Most of them were sleeping, but two were standing guard. They spotted her.
They moved towards her, "Hey, back for more fun?" One of the guards asked.
Damn, why were her feet stapled to the ground? She could not move, could not run. Certainly it was not possible to punch them in the face.
Her body was crap. She was just about to dispose of it anyway. But she needed to be alive to return Ardomael's cloak. Finally, she managed to make herself step back, turn around, and run.
Tears flowed down her cheeks as she realized that it was going to happen again. The two men caught her by the hair and knocked her to the ground. She landed on her back and desperately trying to protect Ardomael's cloak from the fate of being torn.
Out in a distance, a faint and sad melody of a flute was heard. It was soft yet it penetrated her heart. It returned to her the strength to fight. She would not go down so easily. Not for this once.
The crooks warned each other, "It's the Flute Witch again! Run!" They ran for cover.
Tevelai got up from the ground, still clutching tight to the cloak in her hands. Their hasty retreat surprised her, and even more so when they covered their ears and dropped to the floor, paralyzed as if they were in pain. To her, the music was soothing and intoxicating and represented no harm. But she did not know that to them, it was high-pitched and tormenting.
Whoever this Witch was, or why they were so frightened of her, Tevelai was grateful.
The flutist approached. Like her melody, she was soft and elegant. She was tall, lilac-haired, and her skin was a light shade of pink--a High Elf? She looked Elvish indeed, yet neither a Night Elf nor a High-borne. She was beautiful, and even deity-like.
She put down her wooden flute. "Are you all right?" She asked, her voice too, was pure and fascinating.
"Don't worry," Tevelai sighed, "I can live it." She did not want to explain that it always happened to her.
The mysterious elf asked her to sit. Putting her flute to her lips again, she said, "You don't have to face it on your own."
She started playing.
"No, please." The crooks rolled on the ground, "Please stop..."
She did not stop.
Tevelai listened. The melody told the pain that the flutist herself had been through, and the comfort that she found in music. She had no idea what kind of power this strange elf possessed to be able to use her flute for both healing and punishment.
When the Flutist was done, she indeed felt much better. But the crooks were on the ground, not conscious, but peacefully asleep.
The Flute Witch held Tevelai's hand, "I am named Naamiel. Would you tell me your name?"
"It's Tevelai," She said, admiring the Flute Witch's name. It meant 'bright light' in Elvish, and this Naamiel did come into her dark world in the nick of time like a bright light.
"That's a beautiful name," Naamiel smiled. Tevelai thought she was just being polite. 'Tevelai' meant 'little one', and she was, indeed, a little one, unimportant, incapable.
Referring to the two unconscious crooks, the Flute Witch said, "Listen, Tevelai. You will not need to fear them. When they wake up from their slumber, they will become righteous men."
Tevelai was not sure she totally believed that, but there was no point in doubting.
"How could you just floor those guys without even laying a finger on them?" Came a third voice.
Tevelai and Naamiel turned and saw Ardomael, standing there with his sheathed blade swung over his shoulder. On the second day of his runaway he realized the worst part was not having anything to do. Of course he could go hunting for his breakfast or 'explore' the forest. Other than that, there was nothing else. He heard Naamiel play, and he was drawn to the music, "Is that some kind of magic?"
Naamiel shook her head, "No, it is not magic. This is what all elves are gifted to do."
"Can you teach me?" Ardomael seemed interested in her flute.
"Of course," was the gently reply. There was no disgust in Naamiel's voice, even though he was not completely elf-looking. He felt close to her, somehow. Perhaps she was a mixed as well?
Tevelai interrupted the conversation by returning the cloak to him and thanking him again for his help. He snatched it from her without saying anything. She guessed that was his way of doing things.
Naamiel put in, "Say thank you to Tevelai."
"Thank you," Ardomael grumbled, "You sure sound like my mother."
"I assume that wouldn't be a bad thing," Naamiel remarked.
"If I tell you she's one big hideous Orc with a hoarse, terrible voice?"
"Obviously she's not, from the way you are telling me this."
"Right," Ardomael shrugged, "It's my father that's the Orc. My mother is a Night Elf." He stopped right there. Rituals, he figured, all his life, he was just trying to explain himself.
But Naamiel did not ask him to explain. Her eyes held so much wisdom, and he would not be surprised if she already knew everything there was to know about him.
"Come with me," She said to him, "We will take Tevelai home, and then I can teach you how to play the flute."
Tevelai did not want to go. Not when she had just found a lifeline. She did not want to go back home to the void and let darkness take over her again. She would plead or beg, "Please, don't send me home."
Naamiel's silvery eyes fell on Tevelai's face with comprehension. She nodded, "Then, you can come with us."
Questions/comments, pls email Jen H. Concept at jenconcept@yahoo.ca or ardentsq@hotmail.com.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Took me long enough to update. I apologize for the delay. My browser was down (and so was the server of FF.net, I heard). Kill IE! Kill IE! I downloaded Netscape, and cool, it works again. Then, I suffered a minor writer's block and truckloads of laziness, so pardon me.
This chapter is kind of gloomy. Just my mood & papers & everything. It's sorta starting to sound non-Warcraft...I'll steer it back somehow. And yeah, Blizzard said sorry for not hiring me (I wish!) because my invention the Flute Witch is too cool (I wish!).
Uh-hum. Thanks, Tyraa Rane and Ira Poon for your almost instant reviews for chapter 2. Patience, my friends. Why I put Aszune in the story will soon be revealed...I, er, hope I get there and still make sense. Tyraa Rane, thank you for your concern. I'm better now.