Chapter Seven
Tests Passed, One final Challenge and a Growing Danger
Vanimelda got up, woken by Almarië, she drew the beer, and made Sapzôr breakfast and lunch. She fried sausages, cooked an omelette with chunks of ham, mushrooms and bacon, and made tea. She rolled up a loaf of thick bread a block of cheese, and an apple and a ham for Sapzôr's lunch, into a cloth. She swept the floors and set the table, with the food, so by the time Sapzôr was up, her shining golden hair dishevelled and brightly-coloured eyes, puffy, breakfast was already there. Vanimelda made the bed, while Sapzôr sat down, groaning. Best get started now.
Sapzôr gobbled up her food, not bothering to scrutinize Vanimelda like she did the night before. She tended the fire, adding more kindling.
Finally Sapzôr got up to dress. "I'll be back, same time as yesterday," she warned Vanimelda once she had finished. "Remember our conversation from the night before. If you don't want me to suck you dry, then you'd better do what I said, the way I want it, finished when I want it. Remember my key, girl. And the food."
Sapzôr left. She clambered onto her mortar, and the broom and pestle floated itself onto her waiting hands. She muttered an incantation and flew off, rowing with her pestle and sweeping up her tracks with the broom.
Vanimelda turned back inside the house. Almarië was already out, and she was polishing the silver. "Wash the dishes and scrub the table," she said. "Then beat the rug and go feed the animals, then garden. I'll kill the pigs for you. But you have to make the sausages. I'll brew the beer. You've got to get that key, Vanimelda, but don't touch the water- it's enchanted. It'll make your mind go dull and render you useless and numb until she comes back."
She washed the dishes, dried and put them away, scrubbed and wiped the table, then took up the rug and a stick Almarië indicated and beat them outside the house, thoroughly.
Vanimelda went behind the house, mind reeling. How was she going to get that key, then?
She found a fenced-in area. There were pig-pens. She fed the pigs, and groomed the animals. She cleaned out their home, then went to garden. The washing was already done. She didn't need to put that much water in, though.
She saw the well, and looked down. The water was as black as pitch and it wasn't just the shadow, but she could see a faint gleam of something like brass.
Throwing her hands into the air, Vanimelda despaired. She heard her mother's voice. Sing. Sing a joyful song of water, like the one I once sang to you.
Sighing, Vanimelda did just that.
Closing her eyes, she channelled everything into the music.
Then there was silence. Until she heard the flapping of wings, and saw to her astonishment, a drake standing right in front of her, eyeing her with interest in his gleaming eyes. He looked friendly. She gave him a piece of bread, he quacked his thanks and ate it. Then she asked him, in Quenya, to get the key.
Is he immune? She asked her mother. The water only affects humans, dwarves and elves to an extent. I don't know if it affects ents.
The duck gave a loud quack and flapped his wings, diving deep into the well. She heard a splash and she worried for him, but then he emerged, with a shining, large, brass key in his beak.
He dropped it in her apron and gratefully she thanked him. He quacked happily and took off.
She gingerly took her apron and held it, as her mother instructed her, direct skin contact would damage her, temporarily, but not if she held it through fabric.
By the time she was inside, the house shone and sparkled like a jewel. Almarië had shelled nuts and was roasting them by the fire. Vanimelda placed the key down, did the laundry (it was smaller than yesterday's amount), hung it, and gathered the kindling. Almarië smiled at her. The silver had been polished. Everything had been swept, mopped, waxed, scrubbed and dusted. The bed was spotless and neat, a shining white like a cloud. Almarië went and killed the pigs, and the two went into the back garden to stuff and make sausages. Vanimelda swallowed her disgust. Then they cooked the sausages and Almarië gathered fruit and vegetables from the ordinary garden and Vanimelda baked bread and pastries and made supper, while Almarië washed them and brewed the beer. She then got the washing and folded and stored it and made supper while Almarië cleaned up even further. The two of them ate quickly before Vanimelda washed, dried and stored the dishes and Almarië cleaned the table, and Vanimelda placed the hot supper after the table was laid.
Finally, she heard the mortar's approach and went out to greet Sapzôr, smoothing down her apron, and looking wary.
Sapzôr arrived, as did the same horsemen. She grunted, and did not look happy.
"Where's the key?" She asked Vanimelda in a voice that reminded her of the plant that lured animals with its sweet scent and nectar before trapping them and consuming them.
Vanimelda produced it wrapped in fabric, handing it to her.
Sapzôr looked hard at it, then at Vanimelda. She narrowed her eyes. Dreading what she would say next, Vanimelda was inwardly relieved when she said, "Where's my supper?"
She opened the door for her.
Sapzôr gorged herself on roasted meat basted with sauces, peppers and other spices and onions on bread as well as grilled sausages, baked potatoes stuffed with cheese, bits of ham and lettuce. She guzzled beer. At that point Vanimelda's sharp eyes noticed spots on her hands and creases upon her neck and both spots and fine lines around her eyes and mouth. How did her youth go so quickly?
She took a slice of cheese and fruit and ate it, studying Vanimelda closely.
"Do you know what the key is for?" She asked her. Vanimelda shook her head. "No, my lady."
She smirked. "The key is for a paddock, full of sheep. It's where I get my meat. Only this time, I'm not after their meat. I'm after their wool, little Kráka. Wool that you can't get anywhere else in the world. Luscious, soft and golden. You will find the paddock tomorrow. Do your usual chores, then go to them. Remember, I will be back a few hours after sundown." She smiled deviously again.
"I'm going to bed now." She sang to Vanimelda. "You've grown even more beautiful than when I first saw you. That skin, whiter than first snow, purer, and touched by silver, like Telperion's light. That hair, blacker and more gleaming than night, smoother than silk, like the skin, capturing and reflecting light to brightness that would shame the Two Trees themselves. Those rosebud lips redder than the richest, blood-red rubies. Those delicate features that shame the work of the greatest artists, and are undisputedly perfect. Those eyes… Richer and brighter than gems! Than the Silmarils!" She sounded impossibly hungry and her eyes were fixed dark with desire upon Vanimelda's features.
"Be careful little Kráka." She said "You're the most beautiful creature I've ever seen, and I've sucked beauty from countless young maidens. You've already shamed Lúthien Tinúviel, I believe. What's to stop me? Only my blood-oath. And your chores."
With that she retired.
Vanimelda was left there in ice-cold shock, before she hastily began to clear and clean the table.
Though she expected nightmares, nothing of the sort came for Vanimelda that night. When Almarië woke her up, she hastily began the same chores as the previous day.
Sapzôr did not look her best when she emerged from her bedroom.
Sapzôr wolfed down her breakfast of toast, milk, apples and pancakes. She turned to Vanimelda just before exiting the door. "Remember, girl," she said quietly with an evil smile.
Just as before, she stepped into her mortar, took up her pestle and broom and was off, flying out into the dawn's light.
Vanimelda did the dishes while Almarië beat the rugs outside and swept the veranda. She scrubbed and waxed the table, while Almarië polished the silver, then got started on the laundry while Almarië fed the animals, then she did the garden. She opened the shutters to let the air in.
"Take the key," Almarië said, after they had gathered and folded away the washing. "Make the bread, and then take the key, find the paddock and tell me what you saw."
She baked the bread, and went off. She stumbled deep into the woods, before a clearing showed itself to her. There was a fenced paddock, alright. With sheep. But these sheep… Vanimelda's eyes widened, when she saw that they all had horns- the size of a bull's- male and female. And thorns grew amidst the wool.
"Well?" Almarië said. She was on the bench, making supper. She pointed to a plate she had set out for Vanimelda and told her to eat, which she did, tremblingly, telling Almarië what she had seen, before Almarië herself ate.
As they did the dishes and cleaned the table, Almarië thought to herself. She said, "We'll set the table and put the supper on. I'll get her something to drink, while you go out and open the paddock. The sheep live under the heat of the sun. At dusk they will be cooler and calmer. They won't mind you going out among them as long as you feed them handfuls of grass." Vanimelda nodded. "But be back quickly."
She left for the paddock again.
Taking a deep breath, she took out the key and unlocked the gate. The key looked more like the key for a door. But as she went in, the sheep did not stir. She bent down and plucked handfuls of grass, and went over to the nearest sheep, feeding it with one hand, while carefully, she plucked wool from amongst its thorns. The sheep did not have as much wool as she expected, so it didn't take long until they were all pulled out. No need for scissors.
She went around, to every single sheep- there were a dozen- and did the same thing, placing the wool in her apron. After that she left, locking the gate behind her.
She went back to the house, making sure she did not have any dirt upon her, and in its gleaming state, the house was not ruined. The hot supper and the cold beer was already laid out on the table, and Almarië went to hide, as usual, in the pack.
Vanimelda swallowed and went outside.
Sure enough. There was Sapzôr. And again she grunted, as she disembarked. "Did you get the wool?" She asked. Vanimelda showed the apron full of gold wool.
"Excellent," Sapzôr said. "Now spin it, on the spinning wheel, while I have my supper." She went inside the house.
There was a spinning wheel, magically laid out for her, and she started to spin while Sapzôr devoured thick beef stew, a roasted capon with cherries and honeyed sauce, flaky bread and peaches and guzzled mulled red wine.
By the time the witch was finished, Vanimelda had finished spinning and cleared the dishes. The witch's eyes gleamed greedily as she knelt down- but not as greedily when she saw Vanimelda's beauty. She had aged more- there were more creases and lines. A few threads of grey ran through the golden colour of her hair.
"Look at this," she whispered. The gold colour of the wool was stunning, and it was so soft in her hand. Vanimelda dried the dishes in silence and stored them, cleaning the table afterwards. "Now, put it on the loom and weave. Make a thick quilt. As for the pearls…" Suddenly the box containing the pearls opened itself. Out of nowhere, a silver string appeared and the most beautiful pearls started to string themselves in mid-air. Sapzôr smiled.
"Those are not to be touched until I say so and for whom I say so," she said. "But the quilt… Is for another. Tomorrow, you shall find the answer. If you do your usual chores well, of course." She smiled.
And she went off to bed. "Do you think she's trying to trick me?" She asked Almarië who then emerged. "Of course she is," Almarië said. "But you cannot escape her." She pointed to a large loom. "Now go and weave."
Vanimelda took the wool and went to weave the most beautiful quilt.
Tirelessly the shuttle moved. "Go to sleep, now," Almarië said.
She went to sleep. On the loom, stood the most beautiful golden quilt, shining and gleaming as if gold taken from the deep mines of the dwarves had been imbedded within the cloth and embroidered in the most exquisite ways. It glittered magically, like the weavings of her foremother and mother.
Almarië woke her again, and then hid. Vanimelda made breakfast for Sapzôr, laid the table, and then swept the place. By the time Sapzôr had emerged, she had finished and went to the bedroom to make the beds and tidy the room, while Sapzôr stuffed herself.
"Follow me," she said. "And take the key."
Obediently, Vanimelda took the key. Instead of going out through the front, Sapzôr went through the back. Instead of the back garden, however, Vanimelda found herself in a hallway.
A dark, narrow corridor. Sapzôr produced a torch out of nowhere and led her through the darkness.
The walls were painted with murals of wild beasts and savage-looking creatures who tore apart people with their teeth, talons and claws. Then the corridor widened and her eyes widened and she gasped as she beheld large stone statues of people in the most grotesque of positions.
Some of them were maidens who clearly looked terrified. Others were alarmed soldiers who looked as if they were bellowing and shouting in alarm, lifting their swords and shields. But Sapzôr did not stop there.
Instead she stopped in front of a blood-red door. Taking the key she unlocked it, and she produced the quilt that Vanimelda had made.
"Excellent," she whispered. "Never seen anything so beautiful, except for you," her hungering eyes turned to Vanimelda. "Now," She gestured towards the keyhole. Almarië hid in Vanimelda's pocket. Vanimelda unlocked the door.
The door opened, and instantly light appeared out of nowhere just beneath the ceiling.
There were beds, Vanimelda realised. Soft large beds, come with curtains and canopies, freshly-made, except for the inhabitants- there were sleeping people on the beds.
"That's for you," Sapzôr smirked, pointing to a large freshly-made and canopied bed, with a snow-white bedsheet and glittering pillow cases- all of them were embroidered with intricate, rich designs. It was fit for a queen or a king. "But be warned- once you lie down, you will not recover from your sleep until someone wakes you- and no one hardly ever goes here." She laughed.
"Now," she said. "Place the quilt on the bed that is meant for it." She smiled. "Or else you'll join them- or be sucked by me."
With that, the witch left.
"Which is the right bed?" She whispered aloud.
Almarië stuck her head out of her pocket. "Look and see. The finest bed isn't always the right one."
"You mean…" Vanimelda's eyes widened. "That's right. Some of them would look gaudy with this quilt." Almarië nodded. "A bed of good quality." She said. "The best one, but not the flashiest."
Vanimelda examined the beds. One of them had a very high canopy with green silk curtains, of damask. It was made of mahogany but was too grand- it would clash.
Another was laid in blue silks with white frilled pillows. Another had yellow-spotted sheets. It was too small and nothing was right. Another was made of rosewood and had a blood-red canopy. No, not that one either. Nothing was right.
Melda, her mother's voice spoke. If that fails, look not at the beds, but the ones upon it. And look at your quilt. Is it not fit for a king?
Vanimelda froze.
Her eyes fell on a man. He had the greatest nobility on his face. His bed was made of plain ash, not as ornate as the others. His features were regal, calm and utterly noble. In a way, like her father, though they looked nothing alike. He was obviously human.
She placed the quilt upon his bed.
Sapzôr emerged, scowling. "Well done. You chose the king."
"Who was this king?" She asked.
"A human of a kingdom long-gone," she said. She led Vanimelda out of the room. "Do your chores." She said when they arrived at the house. "When I come back, I have one final task for you. If you succeed, take your light and leave. If not, I shall drain you dry. Nothing would give me the greatest pleasure and happiness. Don't touch the pearls." And with that, she left.
When Sapzôr finally returned, Vanimelda and Almarië had done everything they could as fast as they could. She wolfed down goat basted with salty-sweet oil, fiery spices and herbs, carrots, pears and bread with ale.
"So," Sapzôr said. And Vanimelda could see that the witch was returning to her original set. "Kráka. The final task is to get pearls to someone. Deep in the woods, there is a cave. Deep inside a cave are two rivers that have carved themselves into the rock for centuries. The first river comes from the roots of the willow trees. Another comes from the roots of the hazel trees. Only one can be safely drunk by you without any loss to yourself. But that is not your task. There are people living there. And there, they have laid out a great feast. There will be singing and dancing and the finest gowns and jewels. Like a royal court, you might think, because it is a royal court. The court of the Avari elves. I do not have dealings with them myself, but you must present these pearls to the Queen of that particular tribe." The pearl necklace floated itself in front of her. "And come back, won't you? I'd hate to retrieve you myself. You see, these aren't the Eldar of Rivendell and so forth. Or the Nandorin elves. It may be… Difficult… For you to leave."
I can promise this much- the next chapter and she's free of Sapzôr! But the final test may be the most difficult. And she's going to get thirsty. The king with the quilt, the queen with the pearls and Sapzôr herself are all connected to something or someone that would be determined to either possess her or stamp her out.
She may sound like Ravenna from Snow White and the Huntsman, and Baba Yaga from the Russian folktale of Vasilisa the Beautiful, and this may sound eerily like the stories of Eros and Psyche, some Irish myths, and the story of Catkin, but I own none of them! I don't even own anything other than my OCs.