Chapter VIII: Voiceless
"YOU HELPED KIDNAP THE PRINCESS?!"
"Da, I can explain-"
"Do you know what you've done?! You've risked the entire name of the MacIntosh clan - and for what?!"
"I made a deal with Lady Dingwall- All I wanted was the chance to earn a name in my own right! I never meant to hurt anyone!"
Lady Dingwall chuckled.
"A deal? With me? That's one of the most absurd lies I've ever heard!" She paused to regain her composure.
"Well, you heard it as from his own mouth," she said. "Your son Callum has clearly put himself above all others - and the honor of the entire clan."
She promptly turned to leave. The pain in Callum's eyes was as clear as day. The door made a damning thud as Lady Dingwall left the room. Callum to his family, whose faces were now masks of shock and anger. Wallace was the first to speak.
"Callum?" He paused, the words temporarily escaping him. "How could you do this?"
"Please... I can explain..."
"Then by all means, do so!"
"I-I made a deal with Lady Dingwall..." he responded. He let out a heavy sigh before continuing.
"She had a plan to take the princess and make it look like her son saved her... She said if I helped her, she'd ensure that I would get a name of my own."
"Well, you certainly achieved that!" his mother quipped.
"I don't care what that wench Lady Dingwall had to do with it!" Lord MacIntosh bellowed. "A good member of his clan NEVER helps his rivals win the hand of a princess - especially when it involves such a disgraceful means as kidnapping!"
"I'm sorry!"
"You are now - and I'll see to it that you are for a very long time!"
"It'll be up to Wallace to reclaim our good name at the games," Lord MacIntosh continued. "Which you absolutely will NOT be attending."
...
A thick blanket of fog covered the water as Frodo broke the surface, rendering it almost impossible to tell the morning from the afternoon. He could barely make out the castle in the distance. He stared out at it, studying whatever could be seen in the misty grey fog. Even if he still had legs, it'd be difficult to reach the girl he'd been eyeing in this weather.
The next thing he knew, he heard a strange, soft high-pitched sigh.
"Oooohhh...Heeee..."
Frodo slowly turned around and saw a small, somewhat amorphous blue ball of light. Two little white dots rested where he assumed its eyes should have been. He furrowed his brows as he began to study the thing. He could have sworn it was only a few seconds later when the wisp let out another sigh and vanished into thin air.
Frodo backed away, confused. He studied his surroundings a bit longer before giving up and sinking back below the surface.
As soon as he was on the verge of forgetting about the whole ordeal, the blue ball reappeared inches from his nose, giving him a good startle. Frodo's eyes widened in wonder as he witnessed a whole trail of them materialize before him.
After a bit of hesitation, he decided to follow it. Each wisp vanished into the depths of the water as he drew near to each one. Frodo swam on like this for what seemed like an immeasurable amount of time, until the path finally guided him to the surface. He broke the surface once more to find that the scene had changed very little, and that there was no one there. Frodo's brows knitted in confusion. Why would those things lead him here if there was nothing to see?
He considered swimming back until he saw a little old woman come up to the edge of the shore, apparently collecting sea shells and pebbles. Frodo swam up to the nearest rock and perched himself on it, hoping to grab her attention. It was only then that he realized that there was a raven perched on her shoulder. The next thing he knew, that raven took off and flew right into his face, making him jump back and splash unceremoniously back into the water.
It was only when he cried out in shock that the woman seemed to notice him - and even then, she didn't necessarily notice him so much as the ruckus her pet was making.
"Blasted Bird - What shenanigan have you gotten yourself into now?!"
"There was somebody perched on the rocks!" squawked the raven.
The old woman rolled her eyes just seconds before Frodo poked his head out of the water and hoisted himself up until he was halfway out of the water.
The woman's eyes widened with a combination of shock and wonder as her mouth formed a small "o". She shortly shook her head, cleared her throat, and crossed her arms.
"What's a mer-lad like you doing out so near the shore?"
Frodo opened his mouth to speak, but was promptly cut off as an exciting idea suddenly seemed to pop into the woman's head.
"Has word of my wood carvings really the merfolk? Today must be my lucky day - I just went out here to gather some sea shells to add a lovely touch to my latest collection!"
"What...?"
Frodo looked at her in utter confusion. Why would those strange balls of light lead him to a crazy old wood carver?
"I don't think he's here for the carvings," the raven squaked.
Frodo immediately snapped his gaze in his direction.
"Your-your bird! He can talk!"
"Think a talking bird's crazy? Take a look in the water!" quipped the raven.
"How can you do that?"
"Oh, I can do lots of things! I can sing, too! LALALALALAAAAAAAAA!"
Suddenly, the old woman levitated a rock off the sand and sent it flying squarely into the bird's face. She caught it in her hand before it fell into the sand, tucking away its unconscious form into the folds of her dress and cloak.
"Ah, sorry about that, laddie. That buzzard can be terribly annoying."
For a moment, Frodo just stared on. He had no idea what to make of the situation.
"You just levitated a rock and sent it flying into your crow's face!"
"No I didn't! That was just the tides... which came at a rather convenient time."
Frodo ignored the blatant lie and continued.
"Perhaps you can help me? There's this girl I've been wanting to see -"
"As is the story with every lad! What makes this one so special?"
"Her name's Merida -"
"Hold it! Hold it! Did you say Merida?"
"Yes!"
"The princess? Dear lord, she's got suitors flanking her from all sides!"
"Can you help me?"
"I'm not a witch! There were too many unsatisfied customers!"
"Huh?!"
"I don't do magic anymore because there were too many dissatisfied customers!"
"I don't care about that! If what you say is true, then I need a pair of legs!"
The witch paused to ponder his response before answering.
"Well... there is one way to do that. But, before I make this offer, I have to ask you one question."
Frodo's eyes were now fixed on her, hanging on to every word.
"How badly do you want to be with the princess?"
"More than anything," Frodo answered.
"There is one spell that can help you, but be warned, laddie - it's not very pleasant."
"Will I get a pair of legs?"
"Aye, but it'll feel as though you've been run through with a sword - and each step you take with feel like you're walking on daggers."
"But on the bright side," she continued, "you might find that you've got some lovely dance moves. Perhaps that'll charm her?"
"I'll take it."
"All rightie, then. Now, how are you going to pay for that?"
"Name your price."
"Oh, anything of value will do. A nice pendant, a ring, a decently sized pearl..."
Frodo let out a heavy sigh.
"You don't have any of those, don't you?" the witch remarked.
"No."
"Well... I did say anything of value, didn't I?"
Frodo perked up, his eyes fixed on her.
"If the voices of the merfolk are as beautiful as the legends say, then perhaps you can pay me with yours? Besides, there are a horde of ladies out there who would kill for a good listener- and I'd bet all of my wood carvings that the princess is one of them!"
Frodo paused for a moment before asking his next question.
"How long will I have to win her over?"
"About forty days. However, should she marry another, it'll all be for naught, and you'll turn to sea foam on the sunset of her wedding day."
His gaze dropped to the water beneath him as he pondered the witch's words.
"So... what say you?" asked the witch. "Are you sure you want to do this, laddie?"
Frodo shifted his gaze back to her, making direct eye contact.
"Yes."
"All right - here we go."
The witch snapped her fingers, and before Frodo knew it, a whole host of potion-making supplies materialized between them, complete with a cauldron. The raven finally awakened from his knocked out stupor and flew out to Frodo again, plucking a hair from his head and a scale from his fin.
The witch went out to the water and scooped up some sea water in a small ladle before adding it to her bubbling concoction. Frodo watched as she pulled out a gilded conch shell from the folds of her dress (perhaps it was one of the magical items that materialized from among her supplies) and began to cite an incantation. The sky suddenly darkened, as though a great storm threatened to plummet against the very shore where they stood.
"Now, young lad, you've made your choice-
Come winds of the North Sea
Come and raise your beautiful voice
and bring it here to me."
"Now," she continued. "Sing for me."
And Frodo did. He sang the same song as he did the very first time he tried to capture the attention of the princess. Two ethereal forms that resembled giant hands materialized, ready to grasp his voice, which now took on a glowing, wisp-like form at his throat. The hands reached towards him. He forced himself to calm his nerves and steadied his breath as they came closer, reaching for the orb of light where his voice resided.
One of the hands braced him by the waist as the other reached down his throat and finally took his voice, which continued to sing as the wispy hands receded back into the shell. Surprisingly, he felt no pain during the ordeal (save for the discomfort of a nonphysical entity going through him). He watched the sky grow clearer as the witch tucked the shell back into the folds of her cloak.
The cauldron ceased its bubbling. The witch took out a small glass bottle and funneled in the concoction, which seemed to only take on a liquid form once it was inside its final vessel. The potion looked as dark as a stormy sky, save for a gleam of red where the sunlight hit it. The old woman corked the bottle and handed it over to him.
"There you go. Use your time wisely, laddie. Good luck."
With that, the witch gathered some more shells and vanished without a trace.
Frodo stared at the bottle for a little longer, then peered up at the castle ahead before swimming up to shore and inching himself against a large, cliff like boulder. He took one last glance at his tail before shifting his gaze back to the bottle.
He finally uncorked it and drank it. It was only a moment later when he winced and doubled over from a sudden assault of pain in his torso.
The witch wasn't lying when she said that the spell would feel like he was being run through with a sword.