Aranel leaned against the hard stonewalls of the prison cell. It was
very dark, darker than anything she had ever known in her life. She was
trapped, and a voice inside her head was screaming to be released.
But the rest of her had given up. She knew what she had done and that there was no way to make it right. Her friends would never forgive her, and she would spend the rest of her life right here, in the dark underground…
She had no way of knowing just how long she had been down there. There was no longer such a thing as time. There was a scrap of bread in the morning, and a rotting piece of meat at night. Besides that there was no proof that the world outside her prison any longer existed.
Then one day (or perhaps it was night?) Aranel had a visitor. A cloaked figure had appeared in the hall outside her cell, and had lit the torch that the elf that brought her food always lit. But it didn't seem time for another meal.
"Hello?" she dared to whisper. Her voice was very dry, and it was clearly evident that she hadn't spoken in days. The cloaked figure walked over to her cell, and passed a flask through the bars. Aranel grabbed it, and drank without even caring as to what it might be. It turned out to be water.
"Thank you, whoever you are," Aranel whispered, and turned to lie in a corner. But the hooded figure did not leave. Instead, he mumbled her name.
"Aranel."
She turned back to him, and crawled back to the cell bars. "Who are you?"
"A friend," the cloaked stranger grumbled. He was clearly disguising his voice, in order not to be identified. Then he pulled a ring out from under his cloak. On it was a set of keys.
He fit one of the keys into the lock of her cell, and quietly opened the door. Aranel didn't know what to think, but she sure wasn't going to pass up a path to freedom. "Follow me," he told her, and they headed deeper into the underground prison. They walked for what seemed like hours, turning this way and that, and taking hidden passages that looked as if they hadn't been used in years. Finally, just as the torch began to die out, a light began to shine through the crevices in the rock tunnels. They were almost out.
Finally they came to an exit, and Aranel walked out into the sunlight. She closed her eyes, and took in the feeling of the warm light on her skin. Then she turned to her mysterious savior.
"Who are you?" Aranel breathed. But she already knew who it was under that cloak. He lifted his hands up to push the fabric away from his face. The face, as she knew it would, belonged to Malkemen.
Aranel practically collapsed into his arms, and fell into a deep, passionate kiss with her rescuer before she even realized what she was doing. It was Malkemen who first pulled away.
"You have to get out of here, quickly," he said, as he turned away from her.
"How can I ever repay you?"
He looked back at her. "Run. Get as far away from here as you can."
"Malkemen, I can't do that! Where would I go?"
"Aranel, my father passed your final sentence today," Malkemen whispered. He drew her close and wrapped his strong arms around her. "You were to die tonight, at midnight. I couldn't bear to stand around and do nothing. I love you, Aranel, and I believe you. You did not mean to kill my brother."
"But I did, Malkemen. I stabbed him with that knife. I deserve to die."
He took a step back and looked deep into her eyes. A long moment passed before he spoke again. "You did what you had to do. Now run, and don't ever look back."
But the rest of her had given up. She knew what she had done and that there was no way to make it right. Her friends would never forgive her, and she would spend the rest of her life right here, in the dark underground…
She had no way of knowing just how long she had been down there. There was no longer such a thing as time. There was a scrap of bread in the morning, and a rotting piece of meat at night. Besides that there was no proof that the world outside her prison any longer existed.
Then one day (or perhaps it was night?) Aranel had a visitor. A cloaked figure had appeared in the hall outside her cell, and had lit the torch that the elf that brought her food always lit. But it didn't seem time for another meal.
"Hello?" she dared to whisper. Her voice was very dry, and it was clearly evident that she hadn't spoken in days. The cloaked figure walked over to her cell, and passed a flask through the bars. Aranel grabbed it, and drank without even caring as to what it might be. It turned out to be water.
"Thank you, whoever you are," Aranel whispered, and turned to lie in a corner. But the hooded figure did not leave. Instead, he mumbled her name.
"Aranel."
She turned back to him, and crawled back to the cell bars. "Who are you?"
"A friend," the cloaked stranger grumbled. He was clearly disguising his voice, in order not to be identified. Then he pulled a ring out from under his cloak. On it was a set of keys.
He fit one of the keys into the lock of her cell, and quietly opened the door. Aranel didn't know what to think, but she sure wasn't going to pass up a path to freedom. "Follow me," he told her, and they headed deeper into the underground prison. They walked for what seemed like hours, turning this way and that, and taking hidden passages that looked as if they hadn't been used in years. Finally, just as the torch began to die out, a light began to shine through the crevices in the rock tunnels. They were almost out.
Finally they came to an exit, and Aranel walked out into the sunlight. She closed her eyes, and took in the feeling of the warm light on her skin. Then she turned to her mysterious savior.
"Who are you?" Aranel breathed. But she already knew who it was under that cloak. He lifted his hands up to push the fabric away from his face. The face, as she knew it would, belonged to Malkemen.
Aranel practically collapsed into his arms, and fell into a deep, passionate kiss with her rescuer before she even realized what she was doing. It was Malkemen who first pulled away.
"You have to get out of here, quickly," he said, as he turned away from her.
"How can I ever repay you?"
He looked back at her. "Run. Get as far away from here as you can."
"Malkemen, I can't do that! Where would I go?"
"Aranel, my father passed your final sentence today," Malkemen whispered. He drew her close and wrapped his strong arms around her. "You were to die tonight, at midnight. I couldn't bear to stand around and do nothing. I love you, Aranel, and I believe you. You did not mean to kill my brother."
"But I did, Malkemen. I stabbed him with that knife. I deserve to die."
He took a step back and looked deep into her eyes. A long moment passed before he spoke again. "You did what you had to do. Now run, and don't ever look back."