Sharing: The Mistress of the Shadowland
Jan. 8th, 2024 02:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
haebinI've been thinking for hours about whether I'm going to follow through with what I'm planning and I'm super nervous and anxious, but I so want to share what I've been writing for the past three days. I don't know if I'll get to write today because I'm not feeling so fit but I want to get back to the story as soon as I can. I just have so many ideas in my head that I find it hard to sleep at night.
I always write my stories in German and use DeepL to translate them, with Jutta reading over them again as a "beta reader". Does that also mean that there can still be mistakes? Probably. The last time I wrote a story was 15 years ago, so I'm very unsure whether everything is perfect.
But I'm also a bit proud of myself. So if you would like to read it and give feedback, I would be very happy about it.
So, please be a little bit gentle to me because I didn't write for a very long time. :o
Prologue - Chapter I
"Under no circumstances will I allow you to marry that whore!"
His father's deep voice sounded like a thunderclap in the castle's Great Hall.
"You are of old blood, a Highelf. You are not an ordinary elf who lives his life in a forest or a hidden place. You are of strong, ancient blood, born to create greater things than just digging around in forest floors, growing herbs and hunting. You have the finesse, the sharp tongue, the knowledge to become a ruler! You have duties you must fulfill!"
The young elf stood with his back straight in front of his father, who sat on his throne filled with rage. Trálír withstood the gaze of the old man's light gray eyes and at the same time felt the piercing gaze of his younger brother on the back of his neck, who was leaning against a large stone pillar a few steps away from him.
He tried not to let his frustration show in the words that followed.
"Teàrlach would be quite capable..."
"Your brother is the second-born," his father interrupted him sharply and Trálír did not need to turn to his brother to know that he was flinching at his father's harsh words, that his ember-colored eyes darkened with suppressed anger.
Nevertheless, Trálír did not want to give up and above all he did not want to be stopped by his father's stubbornness. Everything was in flux, nothing was set in stone. Why didn't he want to understand that?
"Father, I..."
"Enough!" Trálír, the Elder, dressed in the finest fabrics, cut off his firstborn's words with dark, and an anger-filled Voice. "We will not discuss this. You have your obligations as a firstborn son and you will fulfill them."
Trálír, the Elder, rose from his throne, nodded to his First Hand who stood to the right of him and left the hall without another word.
His soldiers followed him quietly and the silence in the hall was only interrupted by the crackling of the great fire in the center.
"You tried."
Teàrlach's voice was quiet. Trálír turned and shook his head while his gaze rested on the slender figure of his two years younger brother. The flames of the fire and the torches on each stone pillar were reflected in the elf's amber eyes.
"It will not give up," were Trálír's words. "I have no interest in becoming the ruler of this land. Power, politics, intrigues, wars. These are things that have always been far from my mind. Father's plans are not mine, and never have been."
"I know," agreed his younger brother. "But even if you were to find a way to leave, I will never be allowed to fill your place.”
Teàrlach's deep voice sounded frustrated.
And you know the reason why, a voice whispered in Trálír's head. The prophecy...
*****
Trálír stood on the balcony of his chamber, his hands on the solid stone balustrade, staring out at the storm-tossed sea.
Blackwater was a harsh land, bordered to the north by steep cliffs that dropped almost a hundred meters. The castle had been built centuries ago on the highest cliff, there was only one way in and so it was impregnable.
To the east, the cliffs flattened out and there were several bays rich in fish where a few people had built small settlements. The south and west were full of dense, dark forests, inhabited by the Wood Elves of the Elder Clan. Blackwater was not an easily accessible area, but there were plenty of raw materials to trade.
However, trading was always accompanied by great danger, as the roads to the neighboring towns and countries were often raided by robbers, monsters and wild animals.
Blackwater had Pearls and shells that could be turned into jewelry, wood from the deep, dark forests, meat and fur from the forest dwellers. The fur of the black bears in particular was a popular commodity in the towns of the country.
Blackwater was rich and impregnable and this secured Trálír the Elder his throne and his power.
His Son had grown up knowing that he would become the next ruler of Blackwater. That was written in the prophecy, according to his father, for he had never seen any proof, a handwritten sheet of parchment.
All he knew were the words of Trálír, the Elder, the monks and priests who lived in this castle.
And his father's word was law.
Trálír was supposed to be the one who held the hand over Blackwater, increasing its wealth, securing its power and protecting its inhabitants, especially the ones from the same race.
And yet there were darkly whispered words from the depths of the woods, words that painted a different picture of trees ablaze, monsters walking the scorched earth, dead flesh feeding on the living, dragons watching over the Shadowlands and burning to ash any intruder who came near the castle ... and near the Black Diamond.
Humbug, were the words of the old stable master Fairre.
These are stories that old women make up to scare little children.
Trálír took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he tasted the salt of the breaking waves on his tongue.
But was it really? Trálír asked himself. Were these just lies, made-up words created on a lonely night to frighten small children? Or was there more to it?
The firstborn knew about his younger brother's rumors.
He was secretly called Teàrlach, the Dark One.
Rumors persisted among the people that his younger brother was devoted to the dark forces.
Trálír knew that Teàrlach was very interested in and open to all things magical.
And he also knew that the pain of having to live a shadow-like existence as the second-born hurt and angered his younger brother like a festering wound, feeding the rage and helplessness within him.
When Trálír had told his father about these rumors, he had immediately stopped the conversation with a raised hand.
"The humans and their simple-minded nature," the High Elf said snidely, and with those words the rumors had been dismissed.
The old man accepted a few humans in his land, for they paid taxes and were good workers, but he had no respect for them. They were lowlings, far away from even being allowed to look into the face of an High Elf.
Trálír shook his head and looked up at the firmament. Clouds had covered the moon, shadows lay over the land.
A shadow that suits me, Trálír thought, knowing that his path was now leading him towards the stable.
*****
Despite the late hour, Anwyn lay on her bed and stared into the darkness. From the other corner of the room she heard her father's steady breathing, proof that he was sound asleep, the result of a long, hard day's work. He had been out at sea since early morning and returned in the evening with two baskets of fresh herrings, which Anwyn had gutted and brined after supper. She was still working when she told her father to rest. He was not a man of many words, but the young woman knew him too well and saw immediately when his arthritic fingers swelled up or when his joints creaked as he sat down on the chair. Sometimes a groan slipped over his lips when he had to bend down to enter through the low door of the small cottage.
Anwyn decided to go into the forest the next day to look for some herbs that she could make into a salve to ease her father's pain. Knowing that she only had a few hours until sunrise, she closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep.
Only a few moments later, Anwyn sat up because she was sure she had heard something. Unconsciously, her slender body stiffened. Her father and she lived outside the small village and at night there was rarely anyone wandering through the darkness.
Except...
Anwyn sat up quietly, reached beside her bed and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, for with only a simple linen robe to sleep in, she would most likely fall ill if she left the house in secret. With bare feet she crept across the cold wooden floor and before she opened the door she glanced at her father, but he was still fast asleep. There was little chance that he would wake up.
Anwyn carefully placed her hand on the doorknob and opened it slowly so that the squeak of the old door would not betray her.
The strong winds of the Blackwater Bay hit the young woman with full force and she struggled to close the door again without making a sound.
Only a few steps away from the house was the stable, where an old donkey and two goats stood.
As the moon was hidden behind the clouds, she could barely make out anything. But as Anwyn had known nothing but this small house, the stable, the nearby village and the woods since she was born, her steps were sure and she found her destination without hesitation. She slowly opened the stable door and in the next second felt someone grab her wrist.
But neither fear nor anything similar filled her heart, for she knew who it was in a split second.
Trálír, the High Elf. Son of the Ancient One.
The Elf to whom her heart belonged.
"Even the footsteps of a troll would have been quieter than those of the High Elf Trálír," she whispered with a smile as the elf pulled her tenderly against him.
"I didn't know if sleep had overtaken you yet," was his reply and he gazed at her lovingly from his blue-green eyes, which reminded her of the stormy sea. "That's why I threw some small stones on the roof."
"And you were heard," Anwyn whispered, brushing a loose strand of his long black hair out of his face. Trálír reached for her hand and gently pressed his lips to her palm.
"I've missed you," he confessed to her softly.
Anwyn stood on tiptoe, placed her hands on his chest and gave him a gentle kiss.
"I felt the same way," the young woman replied and placed her right hand on his cheek.
"You're freezing," Trálír realized in surprise when he noticed the goose bumps on Anwyn's forearms. He stepped back a little, sat down on a bale of hay and pulled her onto his lap, his arms wrapped around her while Anwyn snuggled up to him.
"It can't go on like this," Trálír said firmly.
Anwyn tried not to give in to the grief in her heart, for the High Elf had a knack for recognizing immediately what she was feeling and thinking.
And yet there was a deep heaviness in the young woman's heart because her love was forbidden.
It was no secret that there were often elves who lusted after humans when it came to satisfying their hunger for physical intimacy. In many a tavern you could see an Elf taking advantage of the hour when they were looking for a human partner for the night. Sensually whispered words, hungry looks from deep-set eyes that had seen many a decade or century, lustful kisses that often ended in dark alleys.
Passionate touches, forbidden unions in the silence of the night, softly whispered words to increase the desire of the other person until the Elves had satisfied their physical hunger and left many a broken heart behind.
Many mothers had warned their child of the High Elfs' auspicious promises, but hardly anyone could resist these words to weep silently into the pillow of their home at the end of the night.
Her father had also warned Anwyn about the High and Wood Elfs and as she rarely went to the village, her encounters were few and far between.
As a little girl, she had often seen hunters from the Elfs' forest camps and quickly hid behind the mighty trees to avoid being seen.
I always write my stories in German and use DeepL to translate them, with Jutta reading over them again as a "beta reader". Does that also mean that there can still be mistakes? Probably. The last time I wrote a story was 15 years ago, so I'm very unsure whether everything is perfect.
But I'm also a bit proud of myself. So if you would like to read it and give feedback, I would be very happy about it.
So, please be a little bit gentle to me because I didn't write for a very long time. :o
"Under no circumstances will I allow you to marry that whore!"
His father's deep voice sounded like a thunderclap in the castle's Great Hall.
"You are of old blood, a Highelf. You are not an ordinary elf who lives his life in a forest or a hidden place. You are of strong, ancient blood, born to create greater things than just digging around in forest floors, growing herbs and hunting. You have the finesse, the sharp tongue, the knowledge to become a ruler! You have duties you must fulfill!"
The young elf stood with his back straight in front of his father, who sat on his throne filled with rage. Trálír withstood the gaze of the old man's light gray eyes and at the same time felt the piercing gaze of his younger brother on the back of his neck, who was leaning against a large stone pillar a few steps away from him.
He tried not to let his frustration show in the words that followed.
"Teàrlach would be quite capable..."
"Your brother is the second-born," his father interrupted him sharply and Trálír did not need to turn to his brother to know that he was flinching at his father's harsh words, that his ember-colored eyes darkened with suppressed anger.
Nevertheless, Trálír did not want to give up and above all he did not want to be stopped by his father's stubbornness. Everything was in flux, nothing was set in stone. Why didn't he want to understand that?
"Father, I..."
"Enough!" Trálír, the Elder, dressed in the finest fabrics, cut off his firstborn's words with dark, and an anger-filled Voice. "We will not discuss this. You have your obligations as a firstborn son and you will fulfill them."
Trálír, the Elder, rose from his throne, nodded to his First Hand who stood to the right of him and left the hall without another word.
His soldiers followed him quietly and the silence in the hall was only interrupted by the crackling of the great fire in the center.
"You tried."
Teàrlach's voice was quiet. Trálír turned and shook his head while his gaze rested on the slender figure of his two years younger brother. The flames of the fire and the torches on each stone pillar were reflected in the elf's amber eyes.
"It will not give up," were Trálír's words. "I have no interest in becoming the ruler of this land. Power, politics, intrigues, wars. These are things that have always been far from my mind. Father's plans are not mine, and never have been."
"I know," agreed his younger brother. "But even if you were to find a way to leave, I will never be allowed to fill your place.”
Teàrlach's deep voice sounded frustrated.
And you know the reason why, a voice whispered in Trálír's head. The prophecy...
Trálír stood on the balcony of his chamber, his hands on the solid stone balustrade, staring out at the storm-tossed sea.
Blackwater was a harsh land, bordered to the north by steep cliffs that dropped almost a hundred meters. The castle had been built centuries ago on the highest cliff, there was only one way in and so it was impregnable.
To the east, the cliffs flattened out and there were several bays rich in fish where a few people had built small settlements. The south and west were full of dense, dark forests, inhabited by the Wood Elves of the Elder Clan. Blackwater was not an easily accessible area, but there were plenty of raw materials to trade.
However, trading was always accompanied by great danger, as the roads to the neighboring towns and countries were often raided by robbers, monsters and wild animals.
Blackwater had Pearls and shells that could be turned into jewelry, wood from the deep, dark forests, meat and fur from the forest dwellers. The fur of the black bears in particular was a popular commodity in the towns of the country.
Blackwater was rich and impregnable and this secured Trálír the Elder his throne and his power.
His Son had grown up knowing that he would become the next ruler of Blackwater. That was written in the prophecy, according to his father, for he had never seen any proof, a handwritten sheet of parchment.
All he knew were the words of Trálír, the Elder, the monks and priests who lived in this castle.
And his father's word was law.
Trálír was supposed to be the one who held the hand over Blackwater, increasing its wealth, securing its power and protecting its inhabitants, especially the ones from the same race.
And yet there were darkly whispered words from the depths of the woods, words that painted a different picture of trees ablaze, monsters walking the scorched earth, dead flesh feeding on the living, dragons watching over the Shadowlands and burning to ash any intruder who came near the castle ... and near the Black Diamond.
Humbug, were the words of the old stable master Fairre.
These are stories that old women make up to scare little children.
Trálír took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he tasted the salt of the breaking waves on his tongue.
But was it really? Trálír asked himself. Were these just lies, made-up words created on a lonely night to frighten small children? Or was there more to it?
The firstborn knew about his younger brother's rumors.
He was secretly called Teàrlach, the Dark One.
Rumors persisted among the people that his younger brother was devoted to the dark forces.
Trálír knew that Teàrlach was very interested in and open to all things magical.
And he also knew that the pain of having to live a shadow-like existence as the second-born hurt and angered his younger brother like a festering wound, feeding the rage and helplessness within him.
When Trálír had told his father about these rumors, he had immediately stopped the conversation with a raised hand.
"The humans and their simple-minded nature," the High Elf said snidely, and with those words the rumors had been dismissed.
The old man accepted a few humans in his land, for they paid taxes and were good workers, but he had no respect for them. They were lowlings, far away from even being allowed to look into the face of an High Elf.
Trálír shook his head and looked up at the firmament. Clouds had covered the moon, shadows lay over the land.
A shadow that suits me, Trálír thought, knowing that his path was now leading him towards the stable.
Despite the late hour, Anwyn lay on her bed and stared into the darkness. From the other corner of the room she heard her father's steady breathing, proof that he was sound asleep, the result of a long, hard day's work. He had been out at sea since early morning and returned in the evening with two baskets of fresh herrings, which Anwyn had gutted and brined after supper. She was still working when she told her father to rest. He was not a man of many words, but the young woman knew him too well and saw immediately when his arthritic fingers swelled up or when his joints creaked as he sat down on the chair. Sometimes a groan slipped over his lips when he had to bend down to enter through the low door of the small cottage.
Anwyn decided to go into the forest the next day to look for some herbs that she could make into a salve to ease her father's pain. Knowing that she only had a few hours until sunrise, she closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep.
Only a few moments later, Anwyn sat up because she was sure she had heard something. Unconsciously, her slender body stiffened. Her father and she lived outside the small village and at night there was rarely anyone wandering through the darkness.
Except...
Anwyn sat up quietly, reached beside her bed and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, for with only a simple linen robe to sleep in, she would most likely fall ill if she left the house in secret. With bare feet she crept across the cold wooden floor and before she opened the door she glanced at her father, but he was still fast asleep. There was little chance that he would wake up.
Anwyn carefully placed her hand on the doorknob and opened it slowly so that the squeak of the old door would not betray her.
The strong winds of the Blackwater Bay hit the young woman with full force and she struggled to close the door again without making a sound.
Only a few steps away from the house was the stable, where an old donkey and two goats stood.
As the moon was hidden behind the clouds, she could barely make out anything. But as Anwyn had known nothing but this small house, the stable, the nearby village and the woods since she was born, her steps were sure and she found her destination without hesitation. She slowly opened the stable door and in the next second felt someone grab her wrist.
But neither fear nor anything similar filled her heart, for she knew who it was in a split second.
Trálír, the High Elf. Son of the Ancient One.
The Elf to whom her heart belonged.
"Even the footsteps of a troll would have been quieter than those of the High Elf Trálír," she whispered with a smile as the elf pulled her tenderly against him.
"I didn't know if sleep had overtaken you yet," was his reply and he gazed at her lovingly from his blue-green eyes, which reminded her of the stormy sea. "That's why I threw some small stones on the roof."
"And you were heard," Anwyn whispered, brushing a loose strand of his long black hair out of his face. Trálír reached for her hand and gently pressed his lips to her palm.
"I've missed you," he confessed to her softly.
Anwyn stood on tiptoe, placed her hands on his chest and gave him a gentle kiss.
"I felt the same way," the young woman replied and placed her right hand on his cheek.
"You're freezing," Trálír realized in surprise when he noticed the goose bumps on Anwyn's forearms. He stepped back a little, sat down on a bale of hay and pulled her onto his lap, his arms wrapped around her while Anwyn snuggled up to him.
"It can't go on like this," Trálír said firmly.
Anwyn tried not to give in to the grief in her heart, for the High Elf had a knack for recognizing immediately what she was feeling and thinking.
And yet there was a deep heaviness in the young woman's heart because her love was forbidden.
It was no secret that there were often elves who lusted after humans when it came to satisfying their hunger for physical intimacy. In many a tavern you could see an Elf taking advantage of the hour when they were looking for a human partner for the night. Sensually whispered words, hungry looks from deep-set eyes that had seen many a decade or century, lustful kisses that often ended in dark alleys.
Passionate touches, forbidden unions in the silence of the night, softly whispered words to increase the desire of the other person until the Elves had satisfied their physical hunger and left many a broken heart behind.
Many mothers had warned their child of the High Elfs' auspicious promises, but hardly anyone could resist these words to weep silently into the pillow of their home at the end of the night.
Her father had also warned Anwyn about the High and Wood Elfs and as she rarely went to the village, her encounters were few and far between.
As a little girl, she had often seen hunters from the Elfs' forest camps and quickly hid behind the mighty trees to avoid being seen.
(no subject)
Date: 2024-01-08 02:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-01-09 12:49 pm (UTC)Hoping that the little brother is not actually evil, or at least not too much.
That is still a little secret XD
♥️
(no subject)
Date: 2024-01-08 04:19 pm (UTC)If this is you rusty, your stories in your writing prime must've been amazing!
(no subject)
Date: 2024-01-10 10:04 am (UTC)I am always scared that I can't describe persons, sceneries or clothings. That is always a bit difficult for me. :o
I hope I will be able to write today a little bit more. Fingers are crossed for myself. XD
(no subject)
Date: 2024-01-10 05:02 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-01-12 08:16 am (UTC)I hope I can write more when I am back from my doctors appointment :)
(no subject)
Date: 2024-01-12 05:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-01-13 08:14 am (UTC)♥️
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Date: 2024-01-10 10:18 am (UTC)♥️♥️♥️
(no subject)
Date: 2024-01-09 08:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-01-10 10:19 am (UTC)♥️♥️♥️
(no subject)
Date: 2024-01-11 10:10 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-01-13 08:23 am (UTC)This was so lovely, well-written, and I could picture it all in my head. Thank you for sharing! ♥
Thank you so, so much!! And thank you for reading it! ♥️♥️♥️
(no subject)
Date: 2024-01-12 09:19 pm (UTC)Und das hier: To the east, the cliffs flattened out and there were several bays rich in fish where people had built small settlements. The south and west were full of dense, dark forests, inhabited by the elves of the Old Elder Clan. erinnert mich sogar ein bisschen an Neufundland ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2024-01-13 08:01 am (UTC)Wenn heute Jutta mit dem korrigieren weiterkommt gibt es morgen den nächsten Teil :) ♥️
...erinnert mich sogar ein bisschen an Neufundland ;)
Ja, jetzt wo du es erwähnst kann ich das auch sehen :D
♥️♥️♥️