Chapter Forty-three
Tales and Torment
Chapter Written by Angmar and Elfhild
As the sun sank upon the slavers' camp
at the Spring of the Silver Coin, Esarhaddon uHuzziya was in a reflective
mood. To say that the events of the day had been strange was a vast
understatement, but Esarhaddon refused to admit that supernatural powers had
anything whatsoever to do with the phenomenal occurrences. How could they,
when it was questionable in his mind that such forces as gods and djinns
even existed? He had become almost convinced that the whole valley was
honeycombed with subterranean caverns which issued forth poisonous gases
that sickened or killed those unfortunate enough to contact them.
He considered other explanations for the nightmarish events as well. Perhaps
while he and his bodyguards were unconscious at the bridge, one of the
Seneschal's men had put a few drops of a hallucinogenic elixir in his mouth.
That would account for his warped perception of his surroundings before his
mare stumbled and fell on the bank. The drug or vapors had still been having
their effect upon him when he dreamt the chilling, though very erotic,
nightmare about the water nymphs.
Even though those explanations brought a
degree of order to his thoughts, still his mind was not totally at peace,
for a nagging doubt told him there was always the possibility that there
might be a supernatural reason. These uncertainties affected his mood,
causing him to be terse and distant. By the time the supper hour had
arrived, he was in a foul temper. When Elffled served him a steaming bowl of
savory soup made from dried meat and red lentils, he barely looked up at
her. After the meal was finished, he dismissed the girls to go to the stream
and wash the dirty dishes.
The sun slowly disappeared behind the western mountains, and the day gave
way to darkness. In spite of their exhausted state, the men were in no haste
to go to their bedrolls, and they sat, sipping tea as they watched the
crackling flames. The Shakh's deep voice finally broke the long silence.
"Men, it is far too quiet here in these somber woods. We need some music to
give us cheer. Inbir, bring out your oud and mellow the evening's harshness
with your playing."
"Gladly, my lord!" The young Southron's teeth flashed in a wide grin. "It is
my great pleasure to perform my music for my benevolent master," he told him
as he rose to fetch his oud.
From her place behind the slaver, Elffled caught the young Southron's dark
eyes gazing into her own. Blushing, she turned away, feeling once again
those fluttery sensations she experienced every time she saw his handsome
face, broad shoulders, muscular arms, and lean body. She remembered the time
he had held her in his strong arms by the stream, and wished he was always
so gentle and considerate. He seemed so different now that he was with the
other slavers.
Returning with his oud, Inbir sat down cross-legged on the carpet which had
been spread before the fire. Softly strumming the strings with his
eagle-feather plectrum, he was thoughtful for a moment, and then began a
song in Westron: "My beloved's face shines like the full moon, and upon the
face of this earth, there are none who can compare to her beauty. I am a
slave to her ebony eyes which have captured me with their soft glances. Oh,
my gentle gazelle, take pity upon me and incline your heart to my pleas..."
Daydreaming about the soulful young singer, Elffled sat listening to him as
she absentmindedly twirled a curl of hair in her fingers. Her sister nudged
her in the ribs and hissed softly, "Do you not remember what Ganbar has
taught us? When sitting or standing, we must keep our hands across our
stomachs, not in our hair! Shakh Ubri has already informed us that the
Master is in a foul mood tonight, and if we do not perform as he expects us,
his ire will be upon our heads!"
With an embarrassed look, Elffled clasped her hands across her middle, so
weary with the endless rules that were forced upon them. "Someday when I am
the wife of a great lord and mistress of his estate, all this will change,
and servants will be forced to obey me," she thought wistfully. "Oh, how I
wish my lord could be Inbir, but he would probably be too poor to buy me!"
She sighed as she listened to Inbir's manly baritone. As he sung a song in
his own language, Elffled imagined the foreign words were about her. "Oh, I
am sure it must be a very sad song about a handsome young man who is too
poor to pay the brideprice for the girl whom he really loves. Her heart
crushed by this injustice, she is forced to marry another, and then both of
them pine away and die. Just like Inbir and me!" She felt tears sting her
eyelids, and squeezed them tightly together to keep from crying. She was
only partially successful, for she felt two silver drops sliding down her
cheeks before she wiped them away with a brush of her hand.
"Inbir, another of your majestic tributes to Shakh Tahazu, that great early
chieftain of our people, whose bravery and deeds have passed down to us in
legend! Your music always inspires me." Ganbar's voice resonated with
emotion. "Truly, you are one of the finest young Southern musicians of this
age." As Ubri added his accolades to Ganbar's praises, Elffled sighed in
disappointment. The song was about an enemy hero, and not about her at all!
"You do me great honor, friends," Inbir inclined his head, smiling
bashfully. "Although your words bring pleasure to my heart, I am often
disappointed with my work. My poor talents are far below the genius of the
widely respected master musicians of the South. Still," he told them as his
fingers lightly caressed the rosewood, "if the Shakh finds merit in my
humble work, I am satisfied." He looked to Esarhaddon, hoping to see
approval on his employer's face.
"Inbir, I have had the privilege of hearing many of the best musicians from
the four corners of the earth, and feel that I have some basis to judge.
While you are not among the greatest, certainly you are not among the least.
Who knows?" Esarhaddon smiled lazily at him. "Perhaps as you mature and gain
more experience, you will exceed the masters someday."
"Thank you, my lord," the young man replied, bowing his head. He was humbled
and gratified by his lord's positive remarks, but irritated at his
reservations. Inbir grew pensive, his hand resting upon the neck of the oud
as he stared into the fire. "Truly it was an understatement when the Captain
said the Shakh was in a foul mood," he reflected. "Sour as vinegar would be
a more apt description. He was far more affected by today's dark experiences
than he wants to admit."
A low groan from Ubri caused everyone's head to turn in his direction.
"Shakh... gentlemen... I fear I must leave this congenial gathering," he
told them apologetically, "but my wounded foot vexes me exceedingly. Now if
Ganbar would assist me to my bedroll, I will bid you good night."
Esarhaddon gave him a dismissive nod, and with the help of Ganbar, the
Captain limped away, groaning as though his foot had been amputated and not
merely bruised. When Ganbar returned to the group, he brought with him a
wineskin, and soon the three men were drinking cups of wine. The tense mood
of earlier quickly evaporated in the warm glow of the wine. As Inbir laughed
at a comment by Ganbar, his dark, luminous eyes caught the firelight.
Elffled's heart fluttered in her chest and she looked down shyly. "How I
wish he would only smile kindly at me or give me a tender word," she thought
wistfully, but Inbir's thoughts were far from the fair, golden-haired
Rohirric maid.
"My lord Esarhaddon and Ganbar, my friend, when I write music and poetry,
there are many things I use for inspiration - the way the sun breaks over
the dawn horizon and turns the desert into light; the sight of a warrior's
proud steed as he races across the plains; the stories and legends of our
people's past." His voice was tinged with excitement. "This spring intrigues
me greatly, and I have been toying with the idea of writing a song or poem
about it. Other than praise for its crystal pure water, I could come up with
nothing." His shoulders slumped slightly. "There must be a story, a legend,
something from which I can draw inspiration. The Spring of the Silver
coin... How did it get that name?" he mused out loud.
"You have never heard?" Ganbar raised an eyebrow in surprise. "My lord
Esarhaddon, can you believe this young fellow is ignorant of such a famous
story?"
"It seems incredible that he has never heard it, but since he has not, you
must enlighten him, Ganbar," Esarhaddon replied disinterestedly.
"Surely, my lord. This tale was told to me some years back when I was at a
coffeehouse in Nurn. The spring has made a name for itself, and is rather
famous, even though my young friend was unaware of this." Ganbar shifted his
position on the cushion, enjoying the good-natured baiting of the younger
man. Though he was far from being a graybeard, Ganbar liked to remind
the young Southron of his seniority, for it seemed to perturb the youthful,
inexperienced Inbir.
"Well, Ganbar, if you are going to tell the story, then be about it, but if
you are going to draw the tale out all night, I cannot be around to hear it.
Soon I need to be looking about the horses, and after that, it is off to bed
with me," Inbir muttered irritably.
Seeing the displeased look in Inbir's eyes, Ganbar smiled broadly. "The
impatience of hot-blooded youth, always intent on immediate gratification,
brash and eager for something new, but often unwilling to learn," he
chuckled. "Well, my very good friend, while you enjoy your wine, I will tell
you the tale of the spring."
"About time," Inbir grumbled low under his breath, lifting the pottery cup
of wine to his lips.
"Many years ago, long before the Dark Wizard inhabited His Tower, a group of
travelers was journeying between Gondor and Nurn. Passing this way, they
chanced upon the spring, and sought out its pleasant waters to refresh
themselves and their animals. The youngest of this company, a bold youth,
powerful and vigorous in the first rush of manhood, wore about his neck a
silver coin with the image of the Goddess upon its face. Considering the
charm a harbinger of good fortune, he never removed it from his neck.
"As he leaned over to drink from the sweet waters, a great misfortune befell
him." Ganbar paused, searching the eyes of the others to gage their
interest. He was pleased when he saw that he had the complete attention of
Inbir and the shy glances of the two young girls. His face turned solemn as
he continued, his voice filled with emotion. "Suddenly the chain which held
the coin snapped in two, sending the charm plunging into the water! He
cursed when he saw the coin disappear into the clear depths. He was
possessed of an astounding degree of courage, arrogant and full of pride. He
swore an oath to find the missing silver piece. The other men in his caravan
implored him not to venture this perilous deed, but the young man was
adamant. Taking off his boots and clothing, he stripped to his sirwal and
plunged into the water.
"As his friends waited for him to return, their apprehension grew. After he
had been gone for a long time, they shook their heads sadly, certain that he
would never come back. However, the young man was exceedingly strong, a
pearl diver from the southern coast of the
"When the young man's head finally broke the surface of the water, his
friends praised the Goddess for his safe delivery. Laboring for breath at
the rim of the spring, he told them that the coin rested upon a small ledge
against the side. When he had reached for it, his trembling fingers had
accidentally knocked the coin from the edge. While his friends commiserated
with him, telling him that it was not worth the risk to his life to dive
again, he brushed their objections aside. Determined to retrieve it, he
dived into the water as his friends muttered prayers and made mystic signs
to ward off evil.
"Once again, the young man was gone a very long time, for he had to go
deeper to search for the coin. When they had almost given him up for dead,
his friends rejoiced when he surfaced again. Almost unconscious from lack of
air, he allowed his friends to pull him from the water and cover him with a
blanket. His best friend, a young man about his own age, laid his hand upon
his shoulder and gazed into his eyes intently, his voice pleading.
"'You must not try again, for surely it is impossible to retrieve this
coin!' his friend told him.
"'Only one more attempt!' the man gasped, his eyes wild and distant. 'I
almost had it this time! My fingertips touched the coin! I must go back!'
"Rushing to his feet, he raced to the edge, pushing aside the men who
attempted to restrain him, and threw himself into the water. 'He has gone
mad,' they murmured among themselves. 'The spring has bewitched him!'
"Through the clear waters of the spring, they watched him going deeper and
deeper. Soon he disappeared from their sight, and they mourned him as though
he were already dead. An hour passed, and then another, but no sign of him
did they ever see again. The legends say that to this day, he is still
there, deep in the spring, searching for his accursed lost coin. There you
have it, my friends," Ganbar tilted his cup of wine to his lips, "the Legend
of the Spring of the Silver Coin."
"While I doubt the truth of the story, still it was an engrossing tale.
Perhaps after I have reflected upon it some more, I will set the sad tale to
poetry and music." Inbir rubbed his chin thoughtfully and then turned to
Esarhaddon. "Now, my lord Esarhaddon, if you will excuse me, I must see
about those horses." He rose to his feet, bowing and touching his forehead,
then turned and walked into the night.
Ganbar stirred restlessly. "Shakh, is there anything else you require before
I go to my bed?"
"Some wine for the houris, Ganbar, and then you may retire." Glancing over
his shoulder at the twins, Esarhaddon smiled, his eyelids lowering halfway
over his dark eyes.
"Yes, my lord, immediately." Ganbar rose and bowed. As he walked to the
stock of supplies, he wondered to himself, "Every night it is the same; the
only difference is which girl is to receive the larger dose. Why bother
keeping up the pretense? They have both learned by now that the wine will be
drugged."
Mixing the brown powder with the wine and adding some honey to dispel the
bitterness, Ganbar took the two cups and presented them to Esarhaddon.
Motioning the girls to sit by him, the Shakh handed them the cups and
watched as the resigned twins drained the vessels.
Soon after, feeling the burden of guilt, Ganbar excused himself and went to
his bedroll. Unable to sleep, the Southron threw back his blanket and,
rising to his feet, paced back and forth restlessly. "I am old enough to be
their father!" he thought wretchedly. "What kind of man am I to drug
children?"
Left alone with the slaver, the twins waited apprehensively, their minds
filled with terrifying images of the night before, when he had forced them
to parade naked before him. Both feared the mind-robbing insensible stupor
of the drugged wine, while at the same time guiltily anticipating the sweet
relief they would have from the grim reality of life. The slaver rose to his
feet, and snapping his fingers, he bid the girls to follow him to where his
carpet had already been spread upon the ground. He reached for a lamp which
had been hung on a low hanging bough and dimmed the light to a subdued glow.
"No sheltered accommodations tonight, my little pets, so the ground will
have to serve as our bed," he told them as he unwound his turban and removed
the cap beneath. After he took off his boots and sword belt, he lowered
himself to the ground and lay down on his left side. "To me, my innocent
virgins," his deep voice commanded them. "Neither of you should be jealous
of the other, for I treat you both as equals. Tonight, Elfhild has been
given the honor of warming my back, while Elffled will keep the rest of me
warm."
Exchanging glances, the twins took their assigned positions on either side
of him. Now came the moment they both dreaded - sharing the barbarian's bed.
He had not taken off all his clothing, if that was any consolation. Perhaps
he was exhausted from the strange, near-disastrous day, and wanted only to
sleep? That thought soon raced from their minds, for he was completely
unpredictable, totally unscrupulous, pleasure-mad, and his insatiable lusts
were those of a rutting bull!
Pulling the blanket over the three of them, the slaver leaned forward, his
lips seeking out Elffled's ear and nibbling upon it as he wrapped his strong
arms around her waist. "Oh, Master, that tickles!" she cried, squirming in
his embrace.
"Little slave girl," his mustache tickled her jaw as his lips played with
her earlobe, "perhaps in your innocence, you are unaware of what stirrings
your voluptuous body brings to a man. Maybe there are other places on your
body which might prove far more ticklish than this, and perhaps before the
night is over, I will have discovered all of them," he murmured in her ear,
his implied threat covered by a deep chuckle.
Terrified, her heart pounding wildly, Elffled forced herself to lie still.
Perhaps if she encouraged him to talk, he would forget his lewd intentions?
She could only find out by trying. "Master, we were both so frightened when
your horse ran away with you!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with quickly
contrived worry. Indeed, she and her sister had been alarmed when Esarhaddon
galloped away and disappeared from their sight, but in truth the bizarre
events of the day were far from her mind. She feared more for the present.
"A small thing, nothing of consequence," he murmured as he pushed back her
golden hair and licked and kissed the nape of her neck. In spite of her
fear, his touches sent little shivers of pleasure down her spine, and
unwillingly, she found herself enjoying the slaver's attentions.
"When we saw you lying on the ground, we feared you had perished," Elfhild
added, sensing her sister's motives and hoping to assist her in her designs.
However, she was having difficulty concentrating upon the exchange between
Elffled and the slaver. She felt so sleepy, and lying against Esarhaddon's
warm back was somehow pleasant... and comforting. Stifling a yawn, she
struggled to keep her eyelids open.
"My forehead was merely scratched when my horse fell and threw me over her
head. I feared more for my Ka'adara's sake than my own." Clearly not
interested in Elfhild, he turned her sister's face to the side and outlined
the curve of her lips with his tongue. Momentarily stunned by the eroticism
of his actions, Elffled's mind hung in space for a few agonizingly long
seconds as his tongue slid between her parted lips and pushed against her
tongue. When she came back to herself, she remembered the hated Daungha's
kisses, and recoiled from the slaver's equally unwelcome ones. She gasped
out in surprise when he roughly seized her arms and pulled her painfully
back to him. His lips crushed hers in a harsh, demanding kiss which made her
neck ache from the pressure.
"But, my lord," Elfhild interjected, her voice slurring, "you could have
been killed from that fall!" What was she saying? Her confused mind told her
how inappropriate this statement must sound. The slaver was on the verge of
raping her poor sister, and all she could do was babble senselessly! Pushing
her hands to her throbbing temples, she tried to concentrate on formulating
some plan to help Elffled, but she found she could only stare stupidly at
the dazzling amber glow of the lantern. How she hated feeling so helpless!
"You will be silent, slave girl, and if you speak again, I will tie you up
and gag you! Perhaps it would be far simpler just to cut out your tongue!"
His voice growled as he turned to face her, his dark eyes flashing a
warning. "There will be no more talk from either of you about what happened
today."
"Oh, Master," Elfhild laughed foolishly as she rolled over on her other side
and flung her arm across his wide middle, "why ever would you want to do
such a thing? Surely you would miss my voice! Why, you have never even heard
me sing!" She did not hear his response, however, for her eyelids had become
too heavy to stay open. Her eyes fluttered closed as she spun upward to
dance with the amber light.
Angrily, Esarhaddon shoved her away from him, and she fell back on the
carpet with a soft moan. "Stay where you are," he commanded Elffled as he
knelt beside her inebriated sister. As Elfhild groaned in her drug-induced
stupor, he bent down and bruised her soft lips with a raging hot kiss. She
reached up for the light, but she found it receding as her hand was roughly
pushed away. Then all went black, and she floated in the land of dreams.
Elffled froze in fear as she heard the slaver's heavy breathing behind her.
When she did not feel his well-muscled body against hers, she feared that he
must be undressing in preparation for... oh by the Gods, no, not that! She
closed her eyes tightly, trembling as she waited for his assault. She was
helpless in his power, but what could she do? Escape was impossible, and if
she even attempted such a folly, she was terrified of what he might do to
her when he caught her again. Would he kill her? Torture her? Cut out her
tongue? Flail the skin from her back? Or give her to his men? "Oh, may the
Gods protect me!" her anguished mind implored desperately.
She kept her eyes tightly closed as she felt his hands push up her tunic.
Esarhaddon cupped her breasts in his hands, his thumbs rubbing over the
hardening nipples. She felt a hot rush of shame as he squeezed and tugged on
the sensitive buds. As his hard mouth captured hers in another demanding
kiss, she moaned as she felt a warm dampness between her legs, soaking
through her pantaloons. As he kneaded her breasts like dough in his hands,
he shoved his hips forward, and she could feel the hard bulge of his growing
arousal against her buttocks. She groaned, longing for escape from this
demeaning torture, but still her body had begun to respond to his foul
touches.
"Oh, Master, please!" she squeaked, struggling to regain control over
herself.
"Be still," his hoarse voice commanded, "and enjoy this pleasure your body
needs and craves! You might surprise yourself, my little trinket, if you
would give into what you know you want!"
"But I do not want--" her voice trailed off as he silenced her protests with
his lips. She breathed harder and harder, sucking in air through his mouth.
Her back arching, she moaned as his merciless hand slid down her stomach,
his fingers entwining in her soft curls. Whimpering and sobbing, she
thrashed about and tried to squirm away, but a sharp, painful pinch to one
of her nipples made her cry out. "You will obey me, my little houri, and do
everything I tell you. If I want to play with your breasts or the delightful
place between your legs, I will. For that matter, I could rape you right
here, and there is nothing you could do about it. My men might enjoy hearing
your cries and screams, wishing they were in my place!"
"Please, Master, no!" Hot tears rolled down Elffled's cheeks. "Do not!" She
tried to push his probing hand away, but again she felt the stinging pain to
her swollen nipple.
"But you would like it if I did!" he told her, his voice thick with passion.
His devilish hand plunged between her legs to stroke her aching bud of
pleasure, sending a shudder of forbidden ecstasy coursing through her body.
"No, please, no!" She tried to move away, but his strong hand gripped her
breast firmly and held her tightly against him.
"You want me, little houri! Do not deny it! You are like every other woman,
a whore at heart, a captive of your own desires! See, you were already wet
for me!" More tears flooded down her cheeks as she felt a tormenting heat
spread through her loins. As his shameless fingers teased and taunted her
throbbing pearl, she felt a burning fire deep inside her. If he did not stop
this agonizing torture, she was sure she would faint! But he did not, and
his determined fingers forced her deeper into a searing vortex of burning
desire. The heat built up, flaming inside her like a consuming fire until
her mind reeled. Then when he rimmed the opening of her channel,
involuntarily she thrust herself again and again against his finger. Gasping
out, moaning, the tears flowing down her cheeks and dripping onto the
carpet, she shuddered as her body was rocked by a paroxysm of passion. When
the intense spasms were over, she lay limply in his arms.
"The more you give into your desires, my little houri," he murmured against
the back of her neck, "the more you will want my caresses. Soon you will be
begging for just a touch of my hand. Already, you yearn for me, if only you
would admit it to yourself!" Then with a low chuckle, he slid his wet
fingers from between her legs and brought them to her nose. When she turned
her head away, he bit her earlobe painfully and forced her to smell her
scent on his fingers. "Even this you will learn to crave, because you are
weak, like every other woman, and need a strong man to rule you," he laughed
arrogantly as he rolled over onto his back. "Perhaps I will decide to keep
you, but then perhaps I will not. Now rest a while, for soon you must awaken
and purify yourself."
Overcome with embarrassment and shame, but still soaring with the lingering
glow of sated passion, Elffled sobbed quietly. "I hate him!" she fumed. "I
hate them all! And, most of all, I hate myself for giving into him so
easily!" Still when the slaver pulled her back against him, she did not
protest, but snuggled into the crook of his arm. "How weak I am, just as he
says," she thought bitterly.
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