The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post - Tol-in-Gaurhoth LXIII: The Cottage of Lost Play

Mnemosyne · 07-28-2009, 12:04 PM

The Cottage of Lost Play rang with the sound of fell laughter. Had any been around to hear it, it would have chilled the bone, the curious blend of man and beast that made up the Werewolf.

Rikae's body was mauled viciously, and there was blood all over the floor of the dungeons of Tol-in-Gaurhoth. Lalaith's fur was soaked in it from her rolling on the floor in glee.

At last the fit of laughter passed and she shrank, changing back into her natural form. She looked down at her skin, slick with blood, and then over at the body nearby.

"Oh, God," she said.

She staggered over to a nearby corner to vomit. Flesh--human flesh--came up, mixed in with the bile and blood. She was shaking, but whether from the shock, from rage, or from shame, she could not say.

A hand rested on her shoulder, delicate and red. "Drink?"

Lalaith spun around. Leaning against the dungeon wall with careless ease was someone similar to the lady in black, and yet different.

Her hair was loose, wild and matted with blood, and she still bore a few scratches on her face. She was dressed in a warrior's garb, and though her hands and forearms were still red it was not due to gloves. They seemed to have been permanently stained--but whether with blood or wine Lalaith could not say. But the light in her eyes was if anything keener and more unsettling.

"You!" said Lalaith! "We killed you; I saw--"

"Indeed you did. It was a pleasantly painful death, although I must say it was rather unoriginal. Your craft improved over time."

"Then how are you--"

"--still alive? As soon as I saw what you were going to do I fled my fána and watched from behind the scenes. Far better to watch you comport yourselves without your knowing my presence. Drink?" She snapped her fingers and a wineglass, filled with a dark red, appeared in Lalaith's hands.

"Absolutely not! After last time--"

"Oh, surely you won't reject one of my special brew? I assure you, Lalaith, I have no further games for you in mind. Your spirits simply seemed in need of lifting."

Reluctantly Lalaith took a sip. As she did new life coursed through her veins. She set the drink down. "Who are you?"

"Haven't you guessed?"

"You shouldn't be able to do this, so you must be one of the Powers, but if I've read of you I surely can't remember it."

The lady's eyes blazed in fire. "Precisely." A spear appeared in one of her hands. "Take your time if you must."

Slowly the light of comprehension dawned in Lalaith's eyes. "He dropped you, didn't he? Tolkien wrote about you, but decided he didn't need you, so he..." She thought a moment. "You're one of the M ones, a brother and a sister--"

"Meássë," the lady said. "Brought into existence by one of the greatest minds of the century and then left to rot because he decided he didn't need me. Should've made me a little nicer if he was going to do that."

"And the person who met us at first, that was Ælfwine?"

"And Gilfanon. And Trotter. There are a few others."

"And what of your brother?"

"Makar? He made this place. When we were dropped he took our house, and poured all the energy he could into making it what it is today. I maintain it, and use it to exact our revenge."

"But we haven't done anything wrong!"

"Of course you haven't. But you, the thinking, living, breathing fans, who were so touched by your Professor's work, are very dear to the one who did."

"Then just kill me already and finish what you've started."

Meássë laughed, a cold, bone-chilling laugh. "You think that's what this is about, even after all this time? I'm not interested in killing you. I'm interested in keeping you alive, weighted down with the guilt of those very deaths, going about the world on your wearying business knowing exactly what you've done. There's a certain beauty in a broken soul, wouldn't you agree? That's why the tale of Frodo touches us so."

"But it's not my fault! You made me do it!"

"Did I? I told you you'd have to kill or die, day and night, but did you ever stop to find out? No, you were too afraid. What if I were to tell you that you could have slept through each night with your strange condition, killed no one, and you all would have been released?"

"You're lying!"

"Am I? I'll never tell you. But late at night, in very early hours you'll stay awake, and wonder, and wonder, and wonder, and never learn. And years later you'll die, a broken old woman, and when you reach whatever place is prepared for you beyond the circles of the world you'll see him and tell him exactly what his creation did to you."

"You--" With a strangled cry Lalaith wrested the spear from Meássë's hand and thrust it at her heart. The spear curved from its path and snapped right back into its original position.

"I only allow myself to be killed when I'm in the mood for it, Lalaith. I'm not in the mood for it at the moment." She snapped her fingers and they were in the dining room from the first night. "I'd suggest a shower and a change of clothes before you leave. You look absolutely filthy at the moment." She paused. "In fact, so do I. And so with your pardon I must leave you. You'll find the carriage awaiting you here within the hour. And don't try to stay around or kill me or anyone again, because it won't work. Farewell." She turned and disappeared through a side door.

Lalaith did as she was told, though she never remembered much of it. When she was ready she found the front door, already healed of its scratches, sitting open into the sunlight of the real world. It almost burned her eyes.

* * *

"Well, that went well, didn't it?"

"I'll say--we got down to one!"

"And it was a wolf. They usually come out so much more scarred afterwards."

"Good. When's the next batch coming in?"

"Twenty-four hours, if we can get everything in order by then."

"I daresay I should."

"Excellent. Now, Trotter, this time you'll be getting Ms. Flieger, Mr. Shippey, and Mr. Rateliff..."

FIN

07-28-2009, 12:04 PM	#349
Mnemosyne Ghost Prince of Cardolan Join Date: Feb 2009 Location: Between the past and the future Posts: 1,159	The Cottage of Lost Play rang with the sound of fell laughter. Had any been around to hear it, it would have chilled the bone, the curious blend of man and beast that made up the Werewolf. Rikae's body was mauled viciously, and there was blood all over the floor of the dungeons of Tol-in-Gaurhoth. Lalaith's fur was soaked in it from her rolling on the floor in glee. At last the fit of laughter passed and she shrank, changing back into her natural form. She looked down at her skin, slick with blood, and then over at the body nearby. "Oh, God," she said. She staggered over to a nearby corner to vomit. Flesh--human flesh--came up, mixed in with the bile and blood. She was shaking, but whether from the shock, from rage, or from shame, she could not say. A hand rested on her shoulder, delicate and red. "Drink?" Lalaith spun around. Leaning against the dungeon wall with careless ease was someone similar to the lady in black, and yet different. Her hair was loose, wild and matted with blood, and she still bore a few scratches on her face. She was dressed in a warrior's garb, and though her hands and forearms were still red it was not due to gloves. They seemed to have been permanently stained--but whether with blood or wine Lalaith could not say. But the light in her eyes was if anything keener and more unsettling. "You!" said Lalaith! "We killed you; I saw--" "Indeed you did. It was a pleasantly painful death, although I must say it was rather unoriginal. Your craft improved over time." "Then how are you--" "--still alive? As soon as I saw what you were going to do I fled my fána and watched from behind the scenes. Far better to watch you comport yourselves without your knowing my presence. Drink?" She snapped her fingers and a wineglass, filled with a dark red, appeared in Lalaith's hands. "Absolutely not! After last time--" "Oh, surely you won't reject one of my special brew? I assure you, Lalaith, I have no further games for you in mind. Your spirits simply seemed in need of lifting." Reluctantly Lalaith took a sip. As she did new life coursed through her veins. She set the drink down. "Who are you?" "Haven't you guessed?" "You shouldn't be able to do this, so you must be one of the Powers, but if I've read of you I surely can't remember it." The lady's eyes blazed in fire. "Precisely." A spear appeared in one of her hands. "Take your time if you must." Slowly the light of comprehension dawned in Lalaith's eyes. "He dropped you, didn't he? Tolkien wrote about you, but decided he didn't need you, so he..." She thought a moment. "You're one of the M ones, a brother and a sister--" "Meássë," the lady said. "Brought into existence by one of the greatest minds of the century and then left to rot because he decided he didn't need me. Should've made me a little nicer if he was going to do that." "And the person who met us at first, that was Ælfwine?" "And Gilfanon. And Trotter. There are a few others." "And what of your brother?" "Makar? He made this place. When we were dropped he took our house, and poured all the energy he could into making it what it is today. I maintain it, and use it to exact our revenge." "But we haven't done anything wrong!" "Of course you haven't. But you, the thinking, living, breathing fans, who were so touched by your Professor's work, are very dear to the one who did." "Then just kill me already and finish what you've started." Meássë laughed, a cold, bone-chilling laugh. "You think that's what this is about, even after all this time? I'm not interested in killing you. I'm interested in keeping you alive, weighted down with the guilt of those very deaths, going about the world on your wearying business knowing exactly what you've done. There's a certain beauty in a broken soul, wouldn't you agree? That's why the tale of Frodo touches us so." "But it's not my fault! You made me do it!" "Did I? I told you you'd have to kill or die, day and night, but did you ever stop to find out? No, you were too afraid. What if I were to tell you that you could have slept through each night with your strange condition, killed no one, and you all would have been released?" "You're lying!" "Am I? I'll never tell you. But late at night, in very early hours you'll stay awake, and wonder, and wonder, and wonder, and never learn. And years later you'll die, a broken old woman, and when you reach whatever place is prepared for you beyond the circles of the world you'll see him and tell him exactly what his creation did to you." "You--" With a strangled cry Lalaith wrested the spear from Meássë's hand and thrust it at her heart. The spear curved from its path and snapped right back into its original position. "I only allow myself to be killed when I'm in the mood for it, Lalaith. I'm not in the mood for it at the moment." She snapped her fingers and they were in the dining room from the first night. "I'd suggest a shower and a change of clothes before you leave. You look absolutely filthy at the moment." She paused. "In fact, so do I. And so with your pardon I must leave you. You'll find the carriage awaiting you here within the hour. And don't try to stay around or kill me or anyone again, because it won't work. Farewell." She turned and disappeared through a side door. Lalaith did as she was told, though she never remembered much of it. When she was ready she found the front door, already healed of its scratches, sitting open into the sunlight of the real world. It almost burned her eyes. * * * "Well, that went well, didn't it?" "I'll say--we got down to one!" "And it was a wolf. They usually come out so much more scarred afterwards." "Good. When's the next batch coming in?" "Twenty-four hours, if we can get everything in order by then." "I daresay I should." "Excellent. Now, Trotter, this time you'll be getting Ms. Flieger, Mr. Shippey, and Mr. Rateliff..." FIN __________________ Got corsets?