A/N: The first chapter of this fic was written in the first person...the rest
will not be. And for some reason, Fanfiction.net won't let me upload
bold/italics (anyone know what's wrong? I'm using Window's XP Professional
and Microsoft word. I have tried to add the HTML tags but they don't work
either).
Darkness. No moon, no stars. Utter, complete darkness. Sight should be impossible, yet he could see. And he could feel. Oh yes, the feeling that never went away, that drove him half mad. The lust. The need.
He could feel it inside him. The feral rage. He knew what he had become; days ago he would have screamed at the realization. Now he regarded it with complete indifference; there is no use fighting the inevitable.
Slowly, he took his dagger and ran the tip along his wrist. Blood dripped out, a dark red, not quite black but nowhere near the colour of human blood either. A grin appeared on his face at the sight of blood. The lust nearly overtook him. Involuntarily, his teeth retracted, and suddenly fangs ran along his upper and lower jaw.
He shuddered slightly. His memory was foggy since he had been turned, but he could remember his body dying. Then the transformation began. The new blood had worked its way through his stomach, reviving his brain, setting his black heart beating once again. His skin had paled considerably, not completely white; light shades of a healthier colour still remained. He had drawn breath again, through dead lungs.
Now he had no need. He stopped his heart from beating; it was pointless. He had long since dropped the habit of breathing.
He was one of them. The very species he hated. A Sanguine. The thought no longer filled him with dread. Not quite a Sanguine yet: somewhere half between one of the legendary vampires and the human he used to be, and still was in some ways. Most of his blood was vampiric, yet some human blood still flowed through his veins. Until this remainder was drained, he would always be in this state. He had many of the Sanguine powers, and also a few of their weaknesses.
He could stay out in the daylight. The human part of him gave him protection from the sunlight deadly to other vampires. Yet he could not even begin to match one of the true Sanguine; the weakest could snap him up and have him suffering in eternal pain without an effort. He was somewhat of...an apprentice. Entrusted with a taste of the undead powers, but not burdened with the major weaknesses.
He no longer needed sleep. He did not need air. His senses were magnified beyond belief. His body had gone numb to most forms of pain. He healed with unnatural speed. He had the intense vision of the Sanguine, able to see in any circumstances. He moved with unnatural speed. He had unnatural strength, yet neither as developed as that of a true Sanguine. He could mould the earth underneath him, envelop himself in it, and absorb the nutrients in the soil, recovering himself faster of wounds.
He did not need food anymore. At least not as he did before. Now he lusted after a new type of nourishment. That of blood. His body would deteriorate and paralyze if he did not receive the blood he so craved. His body would inform him when he needed a new supply of blood.
And now it was screaming that he did. This is why he stalked the shadows, just on the outskirts of a great forest. Lothlorien he thought it was called. He had ventured through Moria, following this Fellowship of the Ring. He knew this group was important in the saving of all the free peoples of Middle Earth, but he no longer cared. He lusted only for fulfillment, to be drained of the last of his human blood, to become a Sanguine in reality. That was the reward promised to him after he finished this task.
Through Moria he had fed on the foul orcs there. Their blood did not satisfy him, but it was better than nothing. But now he hunted richer prey. Oh yes, this blood would be sweet.
He could hear the beating heart. He could see the pulsing veins. He could feel the stark terror radiating off the elf, as he searched for who was stalking him. The elf turned, and he knew that now was the time to strike.
With blinding speed, he...flowed...to cut the elf off. His horrified gasp was music to the half-vampire's ears.
"Dear Valar...they cannot be free again," whispered the elf.
Suddenly, a knife sprouted from the half-vampire's back. No blood spilled; he could control the flow of his blood, and now he forced it away from the wound. With a grin, he pulled the knife out, spun, and caught the unsuspecting elf in the throat. As the blood spurted, he quickly sank his fangs into the elf's slender neck, draining, sucking, tasting the delicious blood. He sensed a movement behind him; he had forgotten about the other elf. He turned, and caught a glimpse of the stealthy elf fleeing, no doubt to inform the others of the awakening of his species.
"Now we couldn't have that..." he muttered, an evil smile splitting his face. With unbelievable precision, he threw the knife. A faint scream told him that he had hit his target. He would be dealt with later.
Turning his attention back on the first fallen elf, he lowered his fangs once again to the delicate neck. In minutes, the elf was drained of blood. He raised his arms to the sky.
The ground parted, forming a shallow grave. He had discovered this power relatively quick, but he knew that he had many more unknown powers inside of him, waiting to be awoken. Discarding the drained elf into the grave, the ground closed, leaving not a trace of disturbance.
The creature walked calmly to where he knew the second elf was. He grinned again as he caught sight of the knife pinning the graceful elf to a tree, impaled through his chest; the wickedly curved dagger was more than long enough, almost a short sword.
Pulling the elf free of the tree he was impaled upon, the half-vampire smiled to himself.
Tonight was a wonderful break from the repulsing orc blood. He had not yet found a blood more rich than that of the elven folk. Discarding the blood- stained knife, the creature lowered his head onto the elf's neck.
Oh yes, tonight was wonderful.
Darkness. No moon, no stars. Utter, complete darkness. Sight should be impossible, yet he could see. And he could feel. Oh yes, the feeling that never went away, that drove him half mad. The lust. The need.
He could feel it inside him. The feral rage. He knew what he had become; days ago he would have screamed at the realization. Now he regarded it with complete indifference; there is no use fighting the inevitable.
Slowly, he took his dagger and ran the tip along his wrist. Blood dripped out, a dark red, not quite black but nowhere near the colour of human blood either. A grin appeared on his face at the sight of blood. The lust nearly overtook him. Involuntarily, his teeth retracted, and suddenly fangs ran along his upper and lower jaw.
He shuddered slightly. His memory was foggy since he had been turned, but he could remember his body dying. Then the transformation began. The new blood had worked its way through his stomach, reviving his brain, setting his black heart beating once again. His skin had paled considerably, not completely white; light shades of a healthier colour still remained. He had drawn breath again, through dead lungs.
Now he had no need. He stopped his heart from beating; it was pointless. He had long since dropped the habit of breathing.
He was one of them. The very species he hated. A Sanguine. The thought no longer filled him with dread. Not quite a Sanguine yet: somewhere half between one of the legendary vampires and the human he used to be, and still was in some ways. Most of his blood was vampiric, yet some human blood still flowed through his veins. Until this remainder was drained, he would always be in this state. He had many of the Sanguine powers, and also a few of their weaknesses.
He could stay out in the daylight. The human part of him gave him protection from the sunlight deadly to other vampires. Yet he could not even begin to match one of the true Sanguine; the weakest could snap him up and have him suffering in eternal pain without an effort. He was somewhat of...an apprentice. Entrusted with a taste of the undead powers, but not burdened with the major weaknesses.
He no longer needed sleep. He did not need air. His senses were magnified beyond belief. His body had gone numb to most forms of pain. He healed with unnatural speed. He had the intense vision of the Sanguine, able to see in any circumstances. He moved with unnatural speed. He had unnatural strength, yet neither as developed as that of a true Sanguine. He could mould the earth underneath him, envelop himself in it, and absorb the nutrients in the soil, recovering himself faster of wounds.
He did not need food anymore. At least not as he did before. Now he lusted after a new type of nourishment. That of blood. His body would deteriorate and paralyze if he did not receive the blood he so craved. His body would inform him when he needed a new supply of blood.
And now it was screaming that he did. This is why he stalked the shadows, just on the outskirts of a great forest. Lothlorien he thought it was called. He had ventured through Moria, following this Fellowship of the Ring. He knew this group was important in the saving of all the free peoples of Middle Earth, but he no longer cared. He lusted only for fulfillment, to be drained of the last of his human blood, to become a Sanguine in reality. That was the reward promised to him after he finished this task.
Through Moria he had fed on the foul orcs there. Their blood did not satisfy him, but it was better than nothing. But now he hunted richer prey. Oh yes, this blood would be sweet.
He could hear the beating heart. He could see the pulsing veins. He could feel the stark terror radiating off the elf, as he searched for who was stalking him. The elf turned, and he knew that now was the time to strike.
With blinding speed, he...flowed...to cut the elf off. His horrified gasp was music to the half-vampire's ears.
"Dear Valar...they cannot be free again," whispered the elf.
Suddenly, a knife sprouted from the half-vampire's back. No blood spilled; he could control the flow of his blood, and now he forced it away from the wound. With a grin, he pulled the knife out, spun, and caught the unsuspecting elf in the throat. As the blood spurted, he quickly sank his fangs into the elf's slender neck, draining, sucking, tasting the delicious blood. He sensed a movement behind him; he had forgotten about the other elf. He turned, and caught a glimpse of the stealthy elf fleeing, no doubt to inform the others of the awakening of his species.
"Now we couldn't have that..." he muttered, an evil smile splitting his face. With unbelievable precision, he threw the knife. A faint scream told him that he had hit his target. He would be dealt with later.
Turning his attention back on the first fallen elf, he lowered his fangs once again to the delicate neck. In minutes, the elf was drained of blood. He raised his arms to the sky.
The ground parted, forming a shallow grave. He had discovered this power relatively quick, but he knew that he had many more unknown powers inside of him, waiting to be awoken. Discarding the drained elf into the grave, the ground closed, leaving not a trace of disturbance.
The creature walked calmly to where he knew the second elf was. He grinned again as he caught sight of the knife pinning the graceful elf to a tree, impaled through his chest; the wickedly curved dagger was more than long enough, almost a short sword.
Pulling the elf free of the tree he was impaled upon, the half-vampire smiled to himself.
Tonight was a wonderful break from the repulsing orc blood. He had not yet found a blood more rich than that of the elven folk. Discarding the blood- stained knife, the creature lowered his head onto the elf's neck.
Oh yes, tonight was wonderful.