Alassea: It does matter to me. I'm very proud for the Seal of Apporval, it made really happy. By the way, I am a bad singer as well…but sometimes I simply don't care and sing nonetheless. I love music and songs in general way too much.
Empress Guinevere Sparrow: I'm glad you liked it because the part of the Ring-accident is one of my favorites. For the flashback, I thought that maybe they were a little too much, so I'm really happy you liked them.
Lightning Rain: I hope you've had a good lightning-watching session and that you'll like also this new chapter…
Since school is over and holydays have started, I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update…Anyway, enjoy the new chapter. Finally we'll get to know something about Victoria's strange powers.
CHAPTER XII: ATTACK OF THE WOLVES
Author's note: Book-based chapter.
The Fellowship reached the plain just at sundown and set its camp on the top of a hill, inside a circle of trees.
As soon as the sun disappeared into the West, far howls started echoing in the valley.
Do you hear them? Sam murmured as he tried to calm down poor Bill. They're getting close…
Frodo bit down on his lip, bowing his head. Victoria laid a hand on his shoulder, trying to reassure him.
Come, Aragorn called them. You must stay close to the fire
Suddenly, all became silent.
They have stopped… Merry murmured. Maybe it's a good sign.
No, Meriadoc, Gandalf replied in a serious voice. They haven't started yet.
Be careful, Aragorn warned them.
They didn't wait much. A pair of yellow eyes, like twin flames, lit up in the dark, then another and another one, in every direction. Between two rocks they could just see the silhouette of an enormous black wolf with blazing eyes and bared teeth.
Gandalf stepped in font of his companions as he ordered the Hobbits to add wood to the fire and stand back-to-back.
The Hobbits did as they had been told and pull their blades out of their sheaths. Also the Wizard unsheathed his sword, which shone in the firelight: Listen, Hound of Sauron! he roared. Gandalf is here! Fly, if you value your foul skin.
The wolf let out a low growl, that almost sounded as mocking laughter, and leaped from the rocks. It fell pierced by the sword of Gandalf the Grey.
Its companions stood still for a moment, almost disbelievingly, than they launched themselves forward baring their teeth, firmly decided to avenge their fallen leader.
A big part of them didn't cover much space as Legolas' quick arrows nailed them to the ground.
Gandalf, Aragorn and Boromir made the blade of their swords sing and Gimli's axe whistled through the air as he cut down a wolf after the other. But in spite of their undisputed valor, it wasn't an easy battle. The wolves surrounded them from every direction and were about to pass behind their line of defense. Gandalf fought desperately, trying to muster enough time to cast a spell that would have sent them all away, but they were worse than wild-fire. For every wolf you killed, there were two ready to take up its place.
They heard a cry of pain: three wolfs had managed to slip behind their backs and one of them had scratched Merry. That was the last thing he did. Duke flew down on him, driving his claws into its snout and ripping away its eyes. A strange voice spoke incomprehensible words and the other two beasts dropped on the ground, rigid as stones, after being hit by two rays of light. But Gandalf hadn't been the one who had cast those spells, it had been Victoria…even if she didn't looked like herself anymore. Her eyes had rolled back and were lit with a green light, her body was wrapped up in a silvery aura and her voice…the voice that was muttering spell after spell wasn't her own anymore. There were many voices, both male and female, that spoke all together, chorusing those obscure words. The girl rotated on herself more than turning around and hit a wolf that was trying to jump on Gimli with another spell. Other wolves would have fallen under her blade and her enchants, that night. Gandalf shouted at her to take his own place and Victoria turned her eyes – that shone like green flames – on him and nodded silently.
Gandalf, still throwing spells with his staff, walked backwards until he reached the fire and grabbed a flaming branch. Suddenly, he looked taller and bigger. The wolves drew back, frightened. The Istari threw the branch high in the sky and his voice echoed in the clearing: Naur an edraith ammen! Naur dan i ngaurhoth!
A white bolt of lightening, brighter than a star, exploded in the dark and the first tree caught fire. The flames passed from branch to branch, from tree to tree, until a circle of fire bloomed on the top of the hill.
The wolves ran away, defeated.
The light of the flames was reflected on the weapons and on the faces of the members of the Fellowship, but one of them still glowed with a light of her own. Their eyes were fixed on Victoria, who stood there wrapped in that silver light and watched with those green-lit eyes the black wolves that fell back, sword in her right and wand in her left.
Her light started to fade, retreating like a wave from the water-line, and her eyes returned to their normal color, but they still followed the enemy's retreat. Hogwarts Snakes seven, Mordor Wolves zero… she murmured, sheathing her sword.
She slowly turned around and caught all those eyes staring at her. She raised her eyebrows in a silent question.
For a long moment the only sound was the cracking of the fire, then finally Gandalf the Grey spoke, looking at her in the eyes: I believe you owe us some explanations, Victoria.
Oh, the girl murmured, bowing her head and studying the dead leaves that covered the ground as if their image had to remain impressed in her mind.
All the ten of them sat around the fire. The nine men stared at her and she kept her eyes on her own hands in her lap, turning her ring around her finger.
Well, Victoria… Gandalf started gently. …would you be so kind to explain us…? He trailed off, not forgetting the interrogative intonation.
Victoria bit down on her lip, not averting her gaze.
Torey… Boromir spoke up. …if you don't feel ready, we can talk about this tomorrow.
Victoria didn't move, trying to suppress the chill she had felt on hearing her nickname.
I do not agree, Gimli mumbled. I do not like when somebody keeps something important from me…And in my opinion, these powers are very suspicious! He concluded with a dark glare.
I would like an explanation as well, Aragorn backed him up.
In all my life, never I have seen or felt anything of that sort, Legolas remarked, shaking his head slowly. Those powers are so strange…I don't understand why she never told us about them before.
She must have had her own reasons! Boromir replied, glaring at the trio.
I shall say it again: I do not like this. I want to know who we are traveling with and I want to know it now! Gimli roared. I shall not bring a…a strange being into my cousin Balin's house!
If she does not want to speak, we cannot force her! Frodo spoke up in a firm and stern voice.
Frodo… Aragorn started patiently, but he didn't go further.
That's enough!
They all turned toward Victoria, who had spoken for the first time. She was speaking with her own voice again and the eyes that watched them behind the two dark locks had the same color as ever…And yet there was something vaguely alarming in her tone of voice and in her eyes. They looked almost normal, but for the light that shone inside of them. As soon as he saw that light, Frodo knew for sure that they would hear another part of Victoria's past and it would be a very dark and painful one too.
You wanted explanation? Fine, you'll have them she said calmly. Her eyes scanned the circle they formed. I just hope that you don't have a weak stomach. She bit her lip again, lowered her gaze for a moment and then raised it again to look at them. Somehow, she managed to look at everybody, giving each one of them the impression that she was looking straight at him. She took a deep breath: Do you remember what I told you during the Council?
They nodded. None of them dared to speak out loud, fearing that a single word would be enough to break the spell that had made her talk.
Well…I didn't tell you everything.
What did you keep from us back then? Frodo asked with a lump in his throat. He wasn't really sure that he wanted to know the answer.
With a quick movement, Victoria rolled her right sleeve up, past the elbow. This.
They startled. All of them, even the warriors, even the impassible Elf. About three centimeters below her elbow started a vertical sign that run down her forearm to her wrist, where it met another horizontal line. A clear track left by the blade of a knife, a T-shaped mark…a scar.
As he stared at it, for the first time in his life Frodo felt able to kill another human being.
Who did that? Boromir asked, clenching his fist.
The same of the slaughter of Slytherin.
They tried to kill you after you survived the havoc? Aragorn asked.
Victoria shook her head: No. This is a memory of that night. She lowered her eyes. Another memory…
Victoria Cross fell on the ground like dead. In the Slytherin Common Room stood only twenty-five guys with white hoods now red with blood.
You okay? asked the boy who had smashed the chair on the last living Slytherin to the one she had been fighting.
Yeah, the other replied, massaging his shoulder. This one is really a poisonous viper. He commented as he turned her on her back with a kick.
One of the hooded boys who was watching the scene looked at his watch. We're almost out of the maximum time. We must hurry.
Right. The curt click of a folding knife, the blade sparkling in the dark. Well, let's finish this one and let's go.
You're planning something, the second hooded boy remarked.
The first one knelt down beside Victoria's limp body and started rolling up her sleeves. He raised his eyes on his mate, then lowered them again on the girl's dark arms. He raised her left arm and started cutting the soft skin.
You know, I do remember that. I remember the cold of the blade of the knife…the burning…my blood that started pouring out… She lowered her eyes on her scar and started running her fingertips over it. First a cut on the forearm…then one horizontal on the wrist, she raised her gaze. A cut perfectly done, you see?
She was alone, lying on the floor with her blood dripping on her uniform and on the carpet. They had gone away, lest somebody caught them. Victoria Cross opened her eyes, letting out a sob and a tear. She tried to turn on her side, to rise to her feet…but she couldn't. She tired again, two, three, four times…but she kept on falling back on the ground. Drops of tears fell on her cheeks, like fords. And then, after the last, vain try, Victoria stayed there, on the floor. She stared at the beams of the ceiling, blurred behind the veil of tears.
Victoria Cross had surrendered.
It was right in that moment that I saw… She stopped.
What did you see, Victoria? Legolas asked.
I don't know what I saw, okay? She almost shouted, raising her head suddenly. Maybe I imagined it, maybe I was losing my mind…or maybe not, I don't know…
A sound against the windows, rhythmic and regular…Rain. A strong wind came from the extinguished fireplace, grazing her hair like a caress. Victoria blinked weakly, trying to see: someone was there, she was sure of that. She turned her head toward the window and she saw a blonde-haired boy in the Slytherin uniform who was watching her…Draco.
Don't give in, Torey, he whispered. Yes, it was Draco, it was his voice, she couldn't be wrong! Don't give in, Torey. You can't die, Torey.
Her head was a turmoil, she didn't know exactly how to do it…She closed her eyes and concentrated as much as she could, calling for every bit of her magic. She tried to block the hemorrhage and make her wounds close, tried to call back her blood. But it wasn't enough. Her blood had been absorbed by her clothes and the carpet, she was too weak.
She opened her eyes again. Draco wasn't alone anymore, there were other people with him. People like him: boys and girls from eleven to seventeen years old, with green-and-silver ties and white-and-green stripped scarves, a snake intertwining on the "H" of Hogwarts embroidered upon their hearts. They were twenty-nine. The Twenty-nine Slytherins.
I don't know exactly how it happened…If it was me or them.
In the silence of the night, she heard a drop fell…then another, and another. But it wasn't raining anymore. Slowly, from every part of the room, small drops of the ruby-colored liquid started slipping away from bodies now cold. They fell on the ground and weren't swallowed by the carpet: they melted together, they formed a stream, a red river that run toward the girl who was still alive. They climbed on her arms, slipped into her body through the gashes that should have killed her, started circling into her veins. When the last drop was absorbed, the cuts closed.
Slowly, Victoria opened her eyes – which she didn't remember closing. She sat up cautiously and inspected her arms. Her tattoo on her left arm looked untouched, but on her right arm there was a scar. Just like she wished. Victoria turned toward the window: Draco wasn't there anymore and the Slytherins…No, the Twenty-Nine Slytherins hadn't disappeared. They'd never left. Not completely.
She hardly got to her feet. Her knees buckled, she felt like she was about to faint. She stumbled, leaning against the wall. Then she bent down and threw up. When she rose again, she saw that she had vomited blood. She backed away, always leaning against the wall, until she collapsed in a dark corner. She started crying, cowering in that nook, trembling, her eyes lost and crazy.
She was still huddled in that corner when they found her.
I kept on throwing up blood for a month, after that, Victoria said. And I still have the scar on my right arm. She swallowed hard, staring at it again. I could have erased it, you know? Just the scars caused by a curse can't be hidden or erased, but wizards and witches can make the ones caused by conventional weapons go away… She was breathing hard. …but I didn't want to. It must stay here, on my arm….and nothing and no one will ever take it away. She lowered her voice. It must stay…This scar on my arm is the only commemoration of the twenty-nine students who died that night, it's their funeral monument…In Hogwarts there will never be a slab of marble with their names carved upon it in some cursed hall. Murderers don't like to remember their victims.
Sweet Eru… Legolas whispered, passing a hand over his eyes.
The others couldn't speak. It was worse than anything they had imagined. Sam, Merry and Pippin looked like they were about to be sick as well. Gimli kept on opening and closing his mouth without a sound. Gandalf watched Victoria with pity and compassion in his eyes. Aragorn looked like he had been turned into a statue. Boromir kept on clenching and unclenching his fist and Frodo…Frodo could understand perfectly the girl's pain, somehow.
That's where my "strange powers" come from… She lowered her gaze. I'd do anything not to have them, but I do. I got them. Them, and the others.
The others? Aragorn whispered.
Victoria nodded: Inside of me I keep the blood of the Twenty-nine Slytherins, the Last Slytherins…And also their souls are with me. She sighed. I don't know how to explain it…Inside of me, in the deepest depth of my soul, there are their souls, or at least a part of them…I don't know exactly. I carry the power of twenty-nine wizards and witches. Sometimes they take over me. She bit her lip. Truth to be told, I'm not sure if I control them or they control me. When I let them act, well…It's as if my soul stepped back. As if I was outside of myself and I was watching myself fight. Probably I'd be stronger if I let out the Thirty Slytherins, which means my soul in complete communion with theirs… She wrapped her arms around her waist, as if she had been cold. …but I've never tried that. And I don't plan to do it soon.
Why did they choose you, Victoria? Legolas asked, in a broken voice.
Truth to be told, he didn't expect an answer, but he got that nonetheless: Because I was the only one who was still alive.
You cannot be sure of that, Gimli remarked.
Victoria laughed, but it wasn't one of her rare joyous laughter. You're wrong. I know it perfectly well. She turned to stare at the fire. After the death, there was the Vigil.
The Vigil? Boromir murmured.
The girl nodded: From May 1st to May 29th I never slept. My body fell in a kind of trance, like Elvish slumber…but I wasn't sleeping. She took a deep breath. Every night I lived the life of one of my Housemates. From the beginning to the end, minute by minute. I was in their memories and watched all the things that happened to them…and inside of me I felt their sensations, their feelings. She lowered her eyes. Even if now I can't recall everything, I lived their lives…and also their deaths. After a few seconds, she rose her gaze again. That's why I can be sure that they were all dead. She swallowed hard. I saw the last things they saw…I heard their last thoughts… She lowered her voice. …I felt what they felt. I've lived thirty lives and twenty-nine deaths.
It must have been horrible, Boromir murmured.
Victoria shook her head: No. It wasn't. I think there's no word to describe what I've been through… But if there is one, certainly it's not "horrible."
Silence fell.
Victoria stared at the center of the fire and no one, not even Gandalf or Legolas, could find a word to speak to her. Both Frodo and Boromir felt the urge to held her in their arms and protect her…but somehow they knew that it wasn't the right thing to do. Not now.
The girl closed her eyes and took a deep breath: Well. With your leave, I'd like to go to sleep now. No one answered. Can I go?
Go, Torey, Boromir told her. Try to sleep tonight.
The girl smiled sadly. I'll try. 'Night, èdnie, she murmured as she hugged him.
See you in the morning, Merilìs. He didn't have the nerve to tell her "goodnight."
Victoria walked to her pallet and wrapped herself in her blanket, turning her back on them.
Frodo had awoken in the middle of the night without a definite reason and now couldn't fall asleep again. He could see the carbonized tree branches and the sky full of stars above him. The air smelled of burned wood, which reminded him of the long winter afternoons spent in the Shire at Bag End. But that night his thoughts weren't traveling for hundreds of miles, they weren't bound to the quiet Hobbiton and the even quieter Bagshot Row. No, the center of his thoughts that night was close, very close…He turned around a little and he could make out Victoria's silhouette in the firelight. The girl slept on her side, wrapped in her blanket with her hair down. Suddenly, he opened his eyes wide, staring at the witch. He might have been wrong, but…but he thought that she was shaking. His suspicion was confirmed a second later, when he heard a choked sob.
Frodo kicked away his cloak, approaching her. He met Aragorn's gaze – the Man was keeping watch and he had started rising to check on the girl – and signaled him that he was going to take care of that.
After a brief hesitation, Aragorn nodded and sat down again.
Frodo leaned a hand on her trembling shoulder and whispered her name: Victoria… Another sob. Not being tall enough to bestride her, he got round her and sat down by her side. It was too dark for him to see her face properly, but he could see her violet eyes staring at the darkness and the sparkling of her tears.
Hang on, Vivi, he told her. It was the only smart thing that came into his mind in that moment. Do you…do you want me to wake Boromir up? Victoria shook her head and squeezed his hand. Frodo lowered himself to hug her. Ssh, it's all right. Don't be afraid.
They clang to each other for a while, then Victoria spoke: Tonight the spirits are restless…they and I are. Her voice was a distant whisper.
What do the spirits say?
She shook her head. I don't know. They're just restless. Sometimes it happens.
He hesitated for a moment before asking her that question: And why are you restless?
I've been thinking about those guys under the white hoods…I can't forget them.
Frodo held her tighter. Don't think about them, Vivi. They are not here, they cannot hurt you.
Victoria thought about that for a moment. I know, she said and clutched her cross. It's not that…I wonder if they ever think about what they have done, if they regret it or if they still think that they have done the right thing…Even now that I'm not there to torment them with my very presence.
The hobbit realized that there was something else. Vivi…I know that your religion tells you to forgive those who hurt you… He preferred not to end his sentence.
The girl shook her head. Then I won't be a good Christian. I can't forgive them. They have done too many bad things to me, too many and too big. Maybe God can forgive them…but I can't. Her hold on her cross became almost convulse, other tears fell from her eyes. I hope that they'll burn down in Hell!
Frodo held her close wordlessly. There was no need of words, he felt it. Slowly, tenderly, he forced her to open her fist. The cross had left four red marks on the palm of her hand.
Frodo… Victoria murmured. Would you…would you mind staying here for a while? Just until I fall asleep… She let out a small giggle. This must sound very stupid to you, I know, but I don't want you to go away. Please.
Frodo smiled and placed a finger on her lips: I won't go away. Don't you worry. He kissed her hand. I am here.
Victoria smiled and her eyes started drifting shut. Goodnight, Frodo…I hope to see ya in the morning.
The Hobbit frowned, confused. Why do you say so?
Because sometimes I don't know if you and the others…are real…or if you're a dream. With these last words, accompanied by a sigh, she fell asleep.
Frodo sat still watching her, caressing her cheeks and her hair with the back of his hand. I am no dream, Vivi… he whispered as he watched her sleep. …but sometimes I wonder if you are not one yourself. He let out a sigh. You are so pretty…
The first thing that Victoria saw when she woke up in the morning was Frodo's peaceful face. He had fallen asleep by her side. The girl met Legolas' gaze and smiled, trying to look free and easy as she wondered if Elves could hear a heart's beating with their cursed hyper-sonic hearing. She hoped with all her heart that it wasn't so and thought that "Radar" was definitely a fitting nickname for the prince of Mirkwood. She got to her feet and came near the fire to have breakfast.
Did you sleep well, Torey? Boromir asked her.
Yeah, thanks. she replied taking the plate he was handing her. It's, strange, but… she said taking a bite of boiled egg. …since we talked about that, well…I feel better. Lighter, maybe.
I am very glad that you feel so, Little Soldier, Boromir commented, ruffling her hair.
After breakfast, they took off, heading toward Moria.
How are you, Vivi? Frodo asked as he approached the young witch.
Fine, thanks, she answered, smiling at him. Well…Thank you for staying with me last night.
Oh, that was nothing, he replied, blushing.
They kept on walking; the road ahead was still long. Victoria kept on repeating to herself the name of the place they were going to.
"Moria…"
She remembered an ancient Latin saying, which said that the name was the thing…But, as Gandalf and Elrond had told her, probably it was just a case if Middle Earth Common Tongue was so alike English. Those words that sounded Italian, like Frodo's name, were probably just a case as well…Yet she couldn't help but thinking about the way Grumpy described Moria and confronting it with the meaning of that word in her mother language.
He spoke of it like a Dwarf paradise.
Moria.
She did not know what it meant in the local languages, but she knew only too well what it meant in her own.
Moria. Epidemic. Slaughter.
Author's note: I'm not kidding, "moria" does mean that in Italian. It gives me the creeps…