Disclaimer: The Phantom of the Opera does not belong to me, only my own characters do.
Author's Note:
To foxgodess07: Glad you enjoyed the little people! They are so much fun to write! And besides, Erik is so dramatic that he needs a comedic foil. The explanation you requested is in this chapter, hope you like it.
To phantommistress: Another happy reader, you will see more of Brandji, Brule and Luniana in all upcoming chapters. I've found that there is nothing like a pair of arguing Brownies for comedy. You'll find this chapter very enlightening about Erik and S'ray too.
To xXThAnKs-FoR-tHe-MeMoRiEsXx: How could I end it like that? Does this very long chapter make up for it? I'm hoping so =).
To Nonnihil Scelestus: Hope you find this chapter as intriguing as the last.
To xX-Crayola-Xx: Hey, you're welcome for the shout-out, I do it for everyone that reviews. Keep reading, I'm just getting started with this.
To flamethrowerqueen: Glad you like the story and characters. As to appearances of other, shall we say, supernatural characters just be careful what you wish for you just may get it. XD
I also want to thank everyone that has signed up for updates and favorited the story, you also keep me writing and don't be afraid to write a review. I don't bite…well…not hard anyway ;-).
Also if I get enough requests, I'll see if I can manage a picture of S'ray and Erik. But remember if you want to see it, you have to ask by writing a review *wink*.
Thanks to all who have read and reviewed; the more you review, the more I write. Now, on with the show and making sense of new revelations.
Phantom of the Glen
Chapter 8
Revelations
"Now talk," the phantom ordered going over to the piano and lifting up the lid.
"As I said in the hallway, I had hoped to put this off a bit longer," she said walking toward her desk.
"Put what off?"
"Now I've put a lot of research and reading into this, as well as taking your past into consideration," she explained plainly stalling.
"What do you have to tell me?" he snapped turning toward her as he ripped a large piece of the Brownies' new nest from the piano.
"You're half-goblin."
Erik froze; he straightened up and slowly turned toward S'ray. S'ray watched him warily; she'd first been tipped off to his mixed lineage by his amber eyes. His sudden outbursts of temper had only furthered to cement her suspicions. He hadn't been violent with her yet, but that didn't mean that she shouldn't be on her guard when he was like this.
The phantom stalked up to her and backed her against the bookcases. "Would you mind repeating that Madame?" he said with barely controlled rage in his voice.
"I said you're half-goblin," she replied steadily gazing back at him.
"Don't toy with me," he growled placing his hands on the shelves on either side of her head and glaring down at her.
"And don't try to intimidate me," S'ray scowled back poking him in the chest with a finger. "I'm not some 16 year-old human child that will cower at the first harsh word from you."
His eyes narrowed and blazed bright with renewed fury. "How dare you bring her into this!" he snarled.
"How dare you speak to me like this in my own home!" she replied becoming angry herself and letting it show in her voice. "Especially when I've done nothing but try to help you!"
Erik backed away from the fury in her eyes.
"Now sit down and listen," S'ray snapped pointing to the chair on the other side of her desk.
Erik sat silently in the chair though his amber eyes still blazed with his own bare suppress fury.
"There, that's better," she said sitting down in her chair. "First things first, yes, you are half goblin and let me finish before you start in again. The reason I didn't say anything is I wanted to be certain before I told you. Well, Luniana, Brandji and Brule confirmed my suspicions for me today. My first hint came the night we met, it's the eyes that usually indicate Faye blood of some sort, and no full human has amber eyes like yours."
"And then there were other things about you that I started to notice, things that humans don't normally do or aren't capable of. One was your quick temper and your talent for music."
Erik was about to interrupt her with a question, but she held up her hand, "Let me finish, then you can ask all the questions you wish or yell and scream and throw another tantrum. So you're clear on this, being half-goblin isn't a bad thing. In fact, that's what's kept you alive all these years. There, I've said what needed to be said."
He took several deep breaths and closed his eyes, calming himself down so he could think clearly. A hundred questions were running through his head. Erik felt like he was loosing control of his world again and he didn't like it. He was silent for several minutes, letting everything sink in. "Does this explain my…" he finally said motioning to the right side of his face.
"It's very possible, I'll be honest and tell you right now that goblins, even the big ones that you likely descend from, are not the prettiest Faye in existence."
"Why are my eyes such a clue on that? I thought they were just a faded brown," he said meeting her eyes.
"It's not just your eyes, it's your eyes combined with the fact you've lived underground most of your life. Goblins prefer dark, underground places, that are why living there didn't bother you and maybe even seemed natural," she explained.
"And how did this keep me alive?" he asked indicating the masked portion of his face again. "In fact it's almost gotten me killed on many occasions and caused more troubles than I care to think on."
"Let me clarify what this means a bit more for you," she said getting up and moving to stand in front of him. S'ray laid her hand on his masked cheek and continued. "This is not the only part of you that's goblin. May I?"
Erik hesitated, but then remembered that she hadn't screamed or been afraid of his unmasked face before, so he nodded his head. She removed his mask and placed it on the desk. Her hand moved to touch his ruined cheek again and he flinched away from her touch. "I know it's not easy for you to accept another's touch like this, especially since what you've been through, but you've got to trust that I won't hurt you," she said touching his cheek again and turning his face so she could look him in the eyes.
"As I've told you before, this is just an outward covering. I know it's not easy living in a mortal world when you're different from them, because they judge mainly on appearance. They see someone that isn't pretty enough to them and right away they call him evil. The only problem is that if you keep being told you're evil because you look different, then you start to believe it and even become evil. Being half goblin doesn't make you evil or bad or whatever you want to call it. You're also half human and that means you can choose to be evil or good. I know you're good, I could sense it as I approached you that night. If you had been evil I more than likely would have put you out of your misery right there."
"Now I know it may have not seemed like it, but you lead what we call a 'charmed life' because you have Faye blood in your veins. It's what makes you more than human and in some cases better than human. If you weren't half goblin you would have died in the snow or been beaten to death by the Gypsies. It's why you're tougher that them and stronger and more agile. Goblin blood is what helps you see so well in the dark and to live underground without the sun for so long. A normal human couldn't do it; they'd sicken and die within a few miserable years. This is why you learn so quickly and are so intelligent. And it's also why you can make such beautiful music with your hands and voice," she explained picking up one of his hand and looking into his eyes.
"How did this happen? Was my mother raped or willing? The way she always treated me I can't imagine she was willing," Erik asked his eyes full of anguish.
"I don't know, half doesn't always mean 50% to the little people. All it really means is that you're probably close to half Faye and that goblin is the dominate blood. It's quite possible that both of your parents carried the Faye blood and never knew it," she replied stroking his hand to calm him.
"And I was unlucky enough that the goblin showed through," he said bitterly.
They sat in silence for several minutes, wrapped in their own thoughts.
"Hey! What's going on in there?" came Brandji's voice from the other side of the door.
"Are they doing it?" Brule asked.
"How should I know? I can't reach the keyhole."
"But the pixie said they were," Brule replied.
"I told you not to listen to her, she will get you in trouble again," he said.
"So are there any more of those that will be showing up?" Erik said indicating the door with a nod of his head.
"No, just those three. And before you ask, no I can't get rid of them, they come with the job," she sighed.
"That's right! You stuck with us," Brandji said triumphantly.
"Yeah, we part of the job!" Brule yelled.
"Then how do I keep them out of the piano?" Erik asked.
"I'll have a talk with them. But until they settle down, I would recommend that you sit with your feet wide apart," she cautioned.
"Why?"
"They'll tie your feet together," she whispered with a laugh.
S'ray could tell Erik was tense; in fact, he was so tense that it was practically oozing from him. Dinner had been less than relaxing and quiet, especially with Brandji and Brule constantly arguing with each other or Luniana. Currently he was enjoying the kitchen and the sounds of her cleaning up. The little people had left as soon as she stood to clean so as to not get stuck helping. Erik was working on a piece of music, his back was straight but his shoulders hunched. She shook her head, how he could stand to be in that position for any length of time she just didn't understand. "How about a nice, quiet walk when I'm done?" she asked putting glasses in the cupboard.
"Quiet? With those three around?" he scoffed, still hunched over the music.
"Oh, they won't follow us," S'ray said confidently.
"Why not? They turn up everywhere else we go," he said skeptically.
"The sun's down and there are many creatures about that would find pixies and brownies good to eat," she smiled taking off her apron. "So how about it?"
"When do we leave?" he asked putting down his pen.
"As soon as I get my cloak?" she said turning to go to the kitchen door.
"Allow me," he smiled already there. He lifted her brown cloak from the peg and gently draped it over her shoulders.
"Thank you," S'ray smiled and opened the door as he quickly fastened his own cloak.
The night had started to cool a bit from the unusual warmth of that spring day. A few early insects buzzed about and frogs could be heard clearly from the stream. From the tree line, a night bird could be heard calling its mate. Stars twinkled in the cloudless sky overhead. She led them along the stream that ran through the glen and to the edge of the trees. "Mmm, what a glorious night," she sighed lifting her arms over her head and stretching.
"Very," he agreed breathing deeply of the night air.
"Is this quiet enough for you?" she asked pulling off her cloak and spreading it on the soft, new grass before sitting down.
"Yes, it is," he replied leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree.
"This is my favorite time of year," she said. "The forest is waking up again, coming back to life and everything smells so fresh and green."
"Spring in Paris is not like this, it's cold and muddy and it rains a lot," he replied folding his arms across his chest.
"Erik, come sit by me," she requested patting the cloak on her right. "Tell me about one of the operas you've seen."
"Which one?" he asked walking over to her as he removed his cloak before sitting down.
"It doesn't matter really," she said as he sat next to her. "Do they have funny operas?"
"Of course and I know just the one," he said and began telling the story of Il Muto.
Later, they were both stretched out on the cloak. S'ray lay on her back, barely able to control her laughter. Erik lay on his left, holding himself up with a straight arm. "And that's how it ends," he finished with a smile.
"Oh, that is funny," she laughed catching her breath.
"When you're ready, it's your turn," he said turning to his back and leaning back on both elbows.
"My turn?"
"To tell me a story."
"What kind of story?"
"When I first came to the opera house, I stole a book about King Arthur, Camelot and the Knights of the Round Table. Do you know any stories about them?" he asked looking up at the stars.
"Do I know stories about them? The only problem is choosing which one to tell," she laughed.
"Any one you want to tell," he said moving his arms behind his head and laying back.
"I've got just the one for you," she said sitting up. "Come here, my lap will make a better pillow."
"I'm fine," he said not moving.
"I won't bite, I promise," she laughed, "and this tale is best told quietly."
Erik raised an eyebrow at this, but acquiesced to her wishes anyway. He settled on her right side, his head resting on her thigh.
"Now, where to begin," she said gazing down at him. "I know, I'll start at the beginning."
"On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky.
And thro' the field the road runs by
To many-tower'd Camelot;
The yellow leavèd water lily,
The green sheathèd daffodilly,
Tremble in the water chilly,
Round about Shalott."
"Willows whiten, aspens shiver,
The sunbeam-showers break and quiver
In the stream that runneth ever
By the island in the river,
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four gray walls and four gray towers
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott."
"That's Tennyson," he said quietly, watching the stars overhead.
"Where do you think he learned it?" S'ray asked.
"I haven't the faintest, enlighten me," he smiled.
"The brownies are rubbing off on you."
"Perish the thought."
"May I continue?"
"Please."
"Underneath the bearded barley,
The reaper, reaping late and early,
Hears her ever chanting cheerly,
Like an angel, singing clearly,
O'er the stream of Camelot.
Piling the sheaves in furrows airy,
Beneath the moon, the reaper weary
Listening whispers, "'tis the fairy
Lady of Shalott."
"The little isle is all inrailed
With a rose-fence, and overtrailed
With roses: by the marge unhailed
The shallop flitteth silken sailed,
Skimming down to Camelot.
A pearl garland winds her head:
She leaneth on a velvet bed,
Fully royally apparellèd,
The Lady of Shalott."
"Your voice is better than his," Erik commented.
"No time hath she to sport and play:
A charmèd web she weaves alway.
A curse is on her, if she stay
Her weaving, either night or day,
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be;
Therefore she weaveth steadily,
Therefore no other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott."
"She lives with little joy or fear.
Over the water, running near,
The sheep bell tinkles in her ear.
Before her hangs a mirror clear,
Reflecting towered Camelot.
And, as the mazy web she whirls,
She sees the surly village-churls,
And the red cloaks of market-girls,
Pass onward from Shalott."
"And you're prettier," he continued.
"Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd lad,
Or longhaired page, in crimson clad,
Goes by to towered Camelot.
And sometimes thro' the mirror blue,
The knights come riding, two and two.
She hath no loyal knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott."
"But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights:
For often thro' the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, came from Camelot.
Or, when the moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers, lately wed:
"I am half-sick of shadows," said
The Lady of Shalott."
The phantom had closed his eyes, letting her draw the scenes with the verses of the poem.
"A bowshot from her bower-eaves.
He rode between the barleys heaves:
The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Launcelot.
A redcross knight for ever kneeled
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott."
"The gemmy bridle glittered free,
Like to some branch of stars we see
Hung in the golden galaxy.
The bridle-bells rang merrily,
As he rode down from Camelot.
And, from his blazoned baldric slung,
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And, as he rode, his armour rung,
Beside remote Shalott."
He felt himself begin to drift as his body relaxed. Paris and all the troubles there seemed to have vanished with the last rays of light. There were just the moon and stars and her voice softly singing the poem.
"All in the blue unclouded weather,
Thick jewelled shone the saddle-leather.
The helmet, and the helmet-feather
Burned like one burning flame together,
As he rode down from Camelot.
As often thro' the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, trailing light,
Moves over green Shalott."
"His broad clear brow in sunlight glowed.
On burnished hooves his warhorse trode.
From underneath his helmet flowed
His coal black curls, as on he rode,
As he rode down from Camelot.
From the bank, and from the river,
He flashed into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra lirra, tirra lirra,"
Sang Sir Launcelot."
He folded his hands across his stomach as he became lost in the music of the words.
"She left the web: she left the loom:
She made three paces thro' the room:
She saw the water flower bloom:
She saw the helmet and the plume:
She looked down to Camelot.
Out flew the web, and floated wide,
The mirror cracked from side to side,
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott."
"In the stormy east wind straining
The pale-yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining,
Heavily the low sky raining
Over towered Camelot:
Outside the isle a shallow boat
Beneath a willow lay afloat,
Below the carven stern she wrote,
THE LADY OF SHALOTT."
His breathing slowed and became deeper; the scent of the night was as intoxicating as fine whiskey.
"A cloud white crown of pearl she dight.
All raimented in snowy white
That loosely flew, (her zone in sight,
Clasped with one blinding diamond bright,)
Her wide eyes fixed on Camelot,
Though the squally east wind keenly
Blew, with folded arms serenely
By the water stood the queenly
Lady of Shalott."
"With a steady, stony glance--
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Beholding all his own mischance,
Mute, with a glassy countenance--
She looked down to Camelot.
It was the closing of the day,
She loosed the chain, and down she lay,
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott."
Erik let his mind rest for a change and just listened to her words.
"As when to sailors while they roam,
By creeks and outfalls far from home,
Rising and dropping with the foam,
From dying swans wild warblings come,
Blown shoreward; so to Camelot
Still as the boat head wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
They heard her chanting her death song,
The Lady of Shalott."
"A long drawn carol, mournful, holy,
She chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her eyes were darkened wholly,
And her smooth face sharpened slowly
Turned to towered Camelot:
For ere she reached upon the tide
The first house by the waterside,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott."
The phantom didn't hear anything after that; he had drifted off to sleep. Unaware, S'ray continued to sing the poem.
"Under tower and balcony,
By garden wall and gallery,
A pale, pale corpse she floated by,
Dead cold, between the houses high,
Dead into towered Camelot.
Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
To the plankèd wharfage came:
Below the stern they read her name,
"The Lady of Shalott."
"They crossed themselves, their stars they blest,
Knight, minstrel, abbot, squire and guest.
There lay a parchment on her breast,
That puzzled more than all the rest,
The wellfed wits at Camelot.
"The web was woven curiously
The charm is broken utterly,
Draw near and fear not--this is I,
The Lady of Shalott."
S'ray looked down after she finished the story, Erik was fast asleep. She smiled and brushed a few stray hairs from his forehead. Not wanting to wake him yet, she lightly rested her hand on his chest and gazed out over the night-time glen. He had relaxed finally and from what she could tell the tension had left most of his body.
She sat there letting him sleep and thinking about the preparations she'd be doing on the forge in the morning. It had been too long since she'd last struck hot metal with her hammers. The urge to create something, anything was very strong. She wasn't sure what she was going to make, but she was going to make something. Her eyes went down to the sleeping man again and an idea came to her. She smiled, this was what she needed to make.
Erik stirred in his sleep, shifting shoulders. She started softly humming a lullaby, knowing that music always seemed to relax and calm him. He settled and turned his head in toward her, breathing deeply in sleep once more.
A couple of hours later, Erik began to wake. He could feel his bare cheek being stroked by a gentle hand. "Antoinette?" he asked sleepily.
"No, its S'ray," the Alve smiled down at him.
"I'm sorry, I fell asleep," Erik apologized opening his amber eyes.
"That's all right, you've had a long day," she said brushing his hair back from his face again. "So who's Antoinette?"
"A friend, she saved me after I killed the gypsy that owned me. She brought me to the opera house to live," he replied. "How long have I been asleep?"
"About two hours give or take," S'ray replied softly.
"I didn't realize I was that tired."
"I said it was all right, besides the little people tire me out too at times."
"Is it true that they came with the whole guardian of the forest job?"
"Yes."
"And so you can't get rid of them?"
"Not a chance."
"Damn it!"
Author's End Note: Yeah, this was a doozy! This is the longest chapter I've written so far. Next we've got some action coming chapters. The Lady of Shallot is the 1833 edition of the Tennyson poem.
Coming up in Chapter 9 – I Sense Disturbance in the Forest