- Published:June 3rd, 2008
- Comments:No Comment
- Category:Fan Fiction
Behold, the horrors of Elfquest Fanfiction:
In the evening, Skywise saw Dilah returning from the gardens. He followed her to a tiny hut at the edge of the village. A white cat leaped from the windowsill and leaned against Dilah’s legs. She stopped to fondle it. Skywise knelt down, seemingly to pat the cat, but he let his hand touch Dilah’s. The female elf picked up the cat and snarled at him in a way that had become all too familiar. Skywise remained kneeling and looked up into her eyes with his eyes full of pleading, like a wolf puppy trying to convince its elf-friend that it is completely innocent of everything, especially chewing that new bow to splinters.
Dilah took hold of his hand and hoisted him up with surprising strength, then pressed him against the wall of her hut, and only then did she free her other hand by putting the cat on the windowsill. Skywise felt something cold touch his neck – the blade of Dilah’s knife. The girl was mad! Absolutely mad. And he was mad himself for getting interested in her. Finally she was pressing against his body, but not in the way he had dreamed of.
And then, suddenly, without moving the knife, she kissed him.
Quill gave a little gasp and a growl as mud was flung in her face. There had been a rain, not a very long one, but it was still a rain. She and Darksun had found themselves walking out in the mud, then, feeling it between their toes. It was then that Darksun had jumped hard into a mud puddle and splashed Quill with mud. Now the two were covered head to toe in the stuff, having thrown much of it at each other. Even though they were quickly approaching the golden maturity of Adulthood, they still loved to play with each other. Darksun was a mere three years older than Quill, and though many maidens had sought his company in the furs recently, he wasn’t interested in any of them.
Darksun’s thoughts had turned to Quill. He noticed lately that she had begun to mature just as he. At sixteen turns, Quill had filled her body out quite nicely. The curve of her stomach, the swell of her breasts…All of it was appealing to Darksun’s eyes. And it was this that now distracted him when Quill tackled him into the mud.
Aiyla smiled as she entered the restaurant Mark had chosen. It was one of the very few places she could get her food the way she enjoyed it. She sat down, looking around, then decided that it couldn’t hurt to get an appetizer for herself. She had not eaten, after all, since yesterday afternoon. She finally caught a waiter, and told him what she wanted, then sat back to wait. It was not long before she saw Mark’s handsome face in the doorway.
For a human, there was something awfully elfish about him. He was tall, and reminded her of some of the stories of the High Ones. There was an unconcious grace to him, and a cheerful nature that made her more than a little suspicious about his intentions. But he had never treated her with anything other than the utmost courtesy, and she tried to return the favor tenfold. All of her stories were sent in on-time or ahead of schedule. She never needed an editor. She agreed to appear at book signings from time to time, though that really held very little interest for her. And she was never truly angry with him. That was a feat for her by itself. Since leaving Rayek behind, it was difficult for her not to be angry with people, humans and elves alike. There was nowhere for the anger to turn, so it went outward, until she had driven away all but the closest of her friends. And now, she didn’t know if they were there.
She looked behind Mark, but saw no one. A sigh escaped her, and she waited for him to approach. “Mark,” she said, standing slightly until he sat. He grinned, his smile reaching her face, and bringing forth an answering smile. And for the billionth time she wondered why Rayek couldn’t have been more like Mark. Stuck as she was on her reverie, she didn’t really hear Mark’s words, and she didn’t see the woman approaching her. But that reverie ended when Aiyla heard her elven name spoken. “Shadowwalker, it’s good to see you again.”
“What was that?!” one voice asked, as its owner turned his fear-filled gaze onto his peer, who stood shakily before them.
“I don’t know, Pip. And I hope we don’t find out. Are you two all right? I’m sorry if we frightened you by grabbing you like that.” A weary-looking youth said, apologetically.
“Think nothing of it. It is most likely that you saved our lives just now. I am Cutter, and this is my tribesman and friend, Skywise. We have traveled far, but have never met folk like you before.” Cutter said, honestly.
“Nor have we met elves like you. My name is Frodo Ba—er—Underhill, and these are my traveling companions, Samwise Gamgee, Meriadoc, or Merry, Brandybuck and Peregrin-Pippin-Took. We’re going to Bree to meet a friend. Would you like to come along with us?” the weary one asked, as the one called Samwise looked hopefully at them.
“First?” Cutter asks, but already Leetah drifts away from him. It is a simple thing for a healer to do, to put himself or herself into a trance, and she does it now without thinking, letting her body writhe and scream as her spirit drifts free.
In the cool darkness of the spirit world, there is no pain and her thoughts are not constricted with the pettiness of suffering. As she drifts, she reminds herself that she loves Tam because of his wolf blood, not in spite of it. He is her anchor, her tie to this world. She, who was once so removed from physical sensation, who shielded herself from any kind of pain, now feels as he does. She reminds herself that it is his biggest gift to her.
And then she is not alone. The mind that brushes her is uncertain, untrained, pushed into a trance by a pain so deep Leetah can barely comprehend it. What-whowereohpainohpleasesomeone…help me…my soul, my other half, Anakin, Anakin, please, why-why-why, not yet, don’t leave me please someone healkillhelpsave me…
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