Hello again all you happy (or unhappy) people! Are you ready for more? I don't care! Here's another chapter. I watched the Silence of the Lambs last night. Have the lambs stopped screaming yet?
Yes, I do know I'm mad. Have fun. Note: Standard disclaimer applies. If you liked this fic, please review. Other fics by this author can be viewed by clicking on her name up there. Now are you sitting comfortably? Good. Then I'll begin.
thoughts
Ice and Fire by Carveus666.
Chapter Three.
Elizabeth sat in the attic room of the Crane manor. This was the only room that wasn't covered in dust or had a dead body in it. The dead body was her late grandfather, who had been laid out in his old bedroom. But she didn't mind the attic. In fact, she liked it. There was a small, low bed against one of the walls, a small desk cum dressing table. The rest of the room was filled with boxes and a large, old and rather battered trunk which she currently picking the lock of.
Elizabeth had gone to school with some 'shady' characters and, despite her foster parents misgiving, had befriended a few of them. They had taken it upon themselves to teach her the finer arts of breaking and entering. Skills she had employed to great effect to the schools confiscated items cupboard. Other things she had picked up were pick pocketing, forgery, and street fighting. She had also learnt to always be prepared for the worst. Her boots may look like regular army boots, but they were custom made to hold a throwing knife against her inside leg. Of course had never had to use tem, but that didn't mean she didn't know how.
Hearing a satisfying click, she opened it up. Inside was a few old books, what looked like an ancient chemistry set, some very peculiar looking instruments, and a pair of glasses which when she looked through them turned out to be magnifying glasses.
She put her booty down on the floor and looked at the letter still sealed in its envelope on the bed. Let's get this over with.She perched on the edge of the bed and picked up the letter. She turned it over and brushed her fingers over the sealing wax bearing the Crane family seal. Tucking her finger under the tongue of the envelope she broke the seal and pulled out the letter. Slowly, she began to read.
To my darling granddaughter.
If you are reading this then I will be dead. Although I have only seen you once, I fear that it may have been the last.
My son, although I love him, will not allow us to be reunited. He fears that I will influence you with my stories of magik and headless horsemen. But I know that whatever my son does. He will not be able to prevent you from finding the old ways.
You are only a babe and yet when I held you I could feel that you are extremely powerful.
That is why I have left you everything, but with that one condition. You must stay at Sleepy Hollow. There is an evil there, which if awakened, cannot be stopped without great difficulty.
In the Western Woods by the Tree of the Dead, lies the grave of the Hessian Horseman from legend. If he is awakened then it is your duty to stop him. My great grandfather, Ichabod Crane, stopped him once before.
I do not know how to stop him, or how he is awakened, but the details of how he was stopped the first time lie in the diary of Ichabod Crane. The diary and the possessions of Ichabod lie in a trunk in the attic. Inclosed in this letter is the key to that trunk. Guard it well. I pray that you will never need them.
Your loving grandfather,
Isaac Crane.
"There was a key! This is what happens when you don't read the letter first. And how did he know that I would become a witch." Liz yawned loudly. "Further investigation can wait till the morning. Good night, to anyone who may be listening. And if anyone is listening, eavesdropping is rude."
And with that she got into the bed and fell asleep.
The next morning, feeling much refreshed, Liz got up and dressed and made her way down stairs to the dining room. The housekeeper, Mrs Deane, came bustling in with a plate laden with bacon, sausage, fried eggs (A/N sunny side up, with gooey yolks homer drool), and fried bread. Thanking her profusely, Liz got started on her gargantuan breakfast.
Later and feeling very full, she made her way back to Mr Jones office in the town. Knocking, and then going in, she found him in deep discussion with an officious looking man, noticing her presence Simon looked up and said, "Ah, Miss Crane how nice of you to join us. This is the local magistrate, Richard Price. He was a good friend of your grandfather's."
Liz smiled and offered a hand, which the magistrate took. "How do you do?" Liz used #43 the how nice to meet you smile. Elizabeth Crane smiles for all occasions.
"As well as can be expected Miss Crane. Your grandfather will be greatly missed in the community." Mr Price had the perfect expression of regretful loss on his face. Oh, this man knew how to play the game all right. (A/N The most fun game of all! Politics!)
"I just wish I had been able to meet him." Thoughtful face #5. "Hopefully the community will grow to like me just as much."
"I'm sure they will Miss Crane. Now if you will excuse me, I have some business to attend to." And with that, he left.
"If you would come this way Mi- Liz." Simon led Liz into an adjoining room with two comfortable looking chairs and a table with a bulging file on it. Liz sat down on the nearest chair, and Simon sat on the other.
Simon's POV
As she its down opposite from me, I seem to notice trivial little things. Get a grip on yourself man! Is that black nail varnish…? You're her deceased grandfather's solicitor for crying out loud! She's wearing a V-neck today, some different combats, and some fingerless mitts. Still all black though. And a trench coat for some reason. She seems very fond of the colour black. Of course, it could just be that she's in mourning, but somehow I think that she just has a solely black wardrobe.
She's raising an eyebrow, must have caught me staring. I look down and clear my throat. "Well, Mi- Liz." First names are personal. I am her deceased grandfather's solicitor. We shouldn't be on first name basis, let alone abbreviations! I pick up the file on the table and open it at the appropriate place.
"Uh, your grandfather had quite a large estate and as his sole heir, we have quite a few details to work through. Ahem, well firstly there is the manor in which you are currently staying, and the old Van Garret manor aswell. There are the town's stables and a number of strips of land and cottages occupied by tenant farmers that will pay you rent which you set. Er," readjusting my glasses I scan the page before me, "There's a flat in New York which you also rent out. There's also your grandfather's Swiss bank account, which we can have put under your name. I'm not sure exactly how much is in there but it should be adequate for you to live a life of leisure. There's also about 3 acres of pasture where there a number of horses grazing at the moment, but there are stables at the Crane manor with full tack and a carriage if I'm not mistaken."
Liz's POV
"Horses?" I can feel my eyes light up. Simon sends me a questioning glance. "When I was younger I had riding lessons. I've always loved to ride. I'd like to go and look at them later." And you can see so much more on horseback, like woods. Ah, a plan forms.
"Yes, of course. Uh, if you are to stay in Sleepy Hollow, you'll have to have your belongings sent over and then there's the matter of selling the house. Or you could keep it, but rent it out. It's your choice."
"I think it would be best if I went back for a couple of days to gather my things. I think it would be best to sell the house, so I would have to sort that out. It would probably be best to go after everything is sorted out. How long do you think that will take?"
"A week at least."
"Well, I can arrange a few things over the Internet." He's frowning. Not a good sign. "You do have a connection, don't you?"
"I'm afraid not. Nobody out here seems to want it."
"Well, when I bring my computer over I can get it then. No point living in the Dark Ages, is there?" Why does my voice sound so falsely bright? Well, personally I'm surprised they have electricity. Everything round here kinda screams old.
"Yes, well I suppose you're right. Well, I think we're all done here for now. I need to draw up some paper work. So, same time tomorrow?"
"Yes, that'll be fine." I smile, rise, and walk out. Oh, my trench does the billowy thing. You know I could have sworn he was checking me out earlier, if it wasn't for the faintly alarmed look in his eyes. I don't think he approves of black nail varnish. Ah well, screw him. This town needs to come into the twenty first century. And I'm just the woman for the job. This is going to be very interesting…
Half an hour later, having taken off her trench coat and removed her boot knives so she could tuck her combats in; Elizabeth was standing in a field with five horses and Mr. Russell, the man who looked after them.
"The two bays 're Brandy 'n' Tom. Tom's the one with the star. The piebald's Patches. The dapple-grey's Pebbles, 'n' the grey's Ghost. If yer wanna try 'un I can get the tack."
"Yes, please. Could you please get Ghost's?" He nodded. "Thank you."
Whilst waiting for Mr Russell to get back she let Ghost nuzzle her hand. "A fitting name for one I'm going to hunt a ghost on." Patting the mare's neck, she had brief flashback to the dream she had woken up from a few nights ago. "Hopefully the ghost won't find us."
Just then, Mr Russell came back with Ghost's tack. After she helped to get it on and adjusted the stirrups, Liz swung up into the saddle and took the up reins. "I'm glad I wore my mitts. Here we go."
She started Ghost off walking, then began posting, as it became a trot. After a little while, she nudged the mare into a canter, which then became a full-blown gallop. Laughing aloud as the wind played with her hair, and Liz realised that she wasn't wearing a hard hat. Not caring, she eased back into a canter, then slowed to a trot, and then to a walk, and the stopped back where she had started.
"She rides like a dream." Liz rubbed Ghost's neck affectionately.
"Tha' she does miss. Tha' she does."
"I'd like to do some exploring of the local countryside now. Would you be so kind as to have stall prepared for her at the manor?"
"Yes miss."
"Thank you." Liz smiled at him, and then brought Ghost round. "I may be some time, so don't worry if I'm a bit late."
"If I can be s'bold, can I ask where yer goin'?"
"Out to the Western Woods."
A look of faint horror appeared on his face. "Yer don't wanna be riding there after dark. The Headless Horseman roams the woods, lookin for 'eads to add to 'is collection."
"I know." She smirked slightly. "If I see him, I'll be sure to give him your regards."
And with that, Liz cantered of into the suset. Or rather she got Ghost to begin walking out of the field and onto the path headed to the Western Woods.
After riding for hours, she called a stop. It was twilight and Liz had reached her destination, although she did not yet know it. Dismounting Liz and tying Ghost's reins to a near by branch, she walked up to the twisted trunk that was the Tree of the Dead.
Slowly, hesitantly, she rested her hand on the bark. She pulled her hand back as if burnt.
"Warm…"
Even more slowly this time, she rested her hand on the bark. Closing her eyes and stretched out her mind, she tried to get a feel for the place with her magik. Her eyes flew back open and she stumbled back from the tree, shivering violently. Backing up she rapidly untied the knot the held Ghost to the tree.
She had just got it undone and had vaulted up into the saddle as the tree opened and out came charging the Hessian on his great black war-horse. (A/N Yay for the Hessian!)
Ghost reared in panic and Liz fought to stay on. He was a fearsome sight. Wild brown hair, death pale skin and blue eyes colder the deepest of winters. Wheeling round, she took off through the woods, the Hessian chasing after her.
Wind whipping her hair back, Liz had lost track of how long this chase had been going. Praying that they were near the edge of the woods, she hazarded a glance back. The Horseman, for that was who it must be, was a mere two lengths away and closing. She crouched closer to Ghost's neck and tried to coax a little more speed from her, but the mar was already going flat out.
All of a sudden, he was next to her, his horse matching hers stride for stride. Liz tried to steer Ghost away, but it was too late. The Horseman grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her off her horse.
She landed on the ground with a thud, and rolled to the edge of the track. Ghost carried on without her after recovering from the stumble. A variety of curse words streamed through her head, but she was too scared to cry out. She scrambled to her feet, determined to face her foe standing.
The Horseman had slowed and his steed reared, screaming a war cry. The Hessian dismounted and approached her slowly.
There was a strange roaring in her ears, and the edges of her vision began to blacken. There Horseman was a mere three paces away, and Elizabeth Crane lived up to her name sake and fell into a dead faint.
Next chapter, In the Lair of the Hessian Horseman, (he has his head, so he's the Hessian. I can hardly call him headless if he has a head!).
YAY! I have reviews! Thank you, you lovely people!
oi-oi-oi: Thank you for the compliment. I think everyone says that about coffee. But don't worry, all shall be revealed in the next chapter.
miss.understoodHAHAIdidntsignin!takethatfanfiction.net!!: You liked it that much? Aw shucks… Blushes She's from England! The Horseman rocks! P.S. BANANAS!
If you have any ideas for the next chapter, review! Waves hand you will review. No that doesn't work. Pulls out wand Imperio. Review this story. No this is Sleepy Hollow. Um… Review or I'll set the Headless Horseman on you! MWAHAHAHAHAHA!
And please note, when in this chapter Liz say's she's a witch, I mean she follows the beliefs of Wicca. No Satanism here people! Witches don't believe in the Devil, let alone worship him. That was hearsay created by the Christian church when they tried to get rid of Paganism. Now that is my little rant is over, REVIEW!
Blessed Be, Carveus666.
P.S. Posting means rising trot. To non-riders, this means that you rise out of the saddle and go back down into it with rhythm of the horse. It's a lot more comfortable than sitting trot. Winces at saddle sores.