"Lake of Dreams"
by Mireille rae'Glaren

Cursing under her breath, Eliara stumbled over a half-submerged tree root right at the edge of the water. The undergrowth here was so thick, pushing her toward the lake, that her feet were already wet, and now there was a muddy splotch halfway to her knees, too. The laundry girl wouldn't thank her for the extra scrubbing she'd have to do, but perhaps a pretty gem slipped into her pocket would make it easier.

She yawned hugely and stretched, and stared for a moment out across the waters of Laakvor. The sun reflected brightly into her eyes, winking from the wavetops. She squinted and rubbed her eyes. Why was she so weary? It was hard even to think. Sighing, she took another few steps that brought her to a dry clump of tall grass. Look, the heads on the grass looked like wee hands waving to the sun! She giggled and then clapped her hands over her mouth, looking around to see if anyone was close enough to hear her laughing out loud at nothing like a village idiot. The gods be thanked for solitude! Her secret was safe. She grinned again and plucked one of the grassy stalks, chewing on it as she plodded a few steps further.

From hummock to clearing to knee-like tree root, the young elf wandered slowly. As the afternoon wore on, her hair grew tousled, constantly plucked by the brush through which she pushed. Her skirt was soaked halfway to her waist and dragging in the mud besides, and she'd sweated through her bodice under the arms and in the middle of the back. From time to time she stopped to wet a cloth and wipe her flushed face. The relief that offered from the heat and sweat and tiny flies was short-lived, and her stops grew more frequent as the sun slipped into the western part of the sky, blinding in its intensity.

Finally with a groan she settled herself against the shaded side of a tree, just a few steps from the water's edge. She faced Laakvor now, since the sun was westering and she'd rounded the end of the lake at last. She stared woodenly out at the waves, listening to their soft lapping at the shoreline. She was so tired, so sleepy. At last, with a jaw-breaking yawn, her eyes closed, and she slumped back against the tree trunk which seemed to curve itself around her like her mother's arms.

She sat bolt upright, her heart racing. What was that? Cocking her head, her pointed ears twitched slightly as she listened. Nothing. Not a sound. She finally exhaled, convinced she'd heard nothing at all save perhaps in her dreams. With a stretch and a rub of her eyes, she leaped to her feet and looked around.

The sun hung low in the west, nearly ready to set, and Yavash shed a faint reddish glow over the darkening east. The breeze, which had ruffled the lake all afternoon, had died to the merest caress, and the mirror across which she looked reflected faintly tinted clouds against a blue-green sky, harbingers of a lovely sunset. Time to be moving on! If she didn't hurry, she'd be climbing in the dark. It was a wonder someone hadn't come searching for her already, but ahh, the freedom of being alone in the wilds...

Quickly she smoothed her hair back into its braid and shook out her skirt, which had nearly dried while she slept the day away. Rummaging in her knapsack, she found here a wedge of harvest bread and a jar of water and there a bruised nectarine that smelled so sweet! She munched contentedly as she set off again, south now along the lake but moving more quickly since she had rested. At least the going was easier along here, where she could follow the faint path worn by hunters and beasts alike. She just hoped she wouldn't run into anything too .... slimy ....

A watcher would have seen a lovely ethereal creature skipping in spots as she floated along the water's edge, flitting like a graceful butterfly. Her hair was auburn, catching the setting sun's flames, and her lithe form pirouetted from sheer joy of living when she reached the top of a large rock that stood in her path. A giggle floated across the quiet marshes as she hopped down on the other side of the rock and spied a lonely boot stuck in the muck. Humming happily, the fiery butterfly hipped and hopped and jumped her way down the rough path.

Across the fishing pools rimmed with flat rocks she skipped, jumping lightly from stone to stone, arms and braid flying as she waved to the two fishermen setting up for night netting. They smiled as they watched her pass, a late ray from the heavens as the darkness grew around them. One of them called a half-heard warning to her as she melted into the mists, and a grin flashed over her shoulder was his reward. He chuckled and shook his head as he turned back to his nets, and with a last light laugh, she was gone toward the cliffs.

She peered up along the cliff face. Here at the foot of it were what appeared to be rudimentary steps, though only a giant could have traversed them easily. The thought brought a grin to her face as she began to run lightly up, up, still up. Just when she began to slow, panting, the stairs petered out. Perhaps twenty feet overhead she could see a grassy ledge still lit by the sinking sun. Several likely-looking hand- and footholds were shadowed leading up to the stone shelf, and with only a moment's hesitation she accepted their invitation. Her skirt tucked into its own waistband, her braid tossed behind her, she clambered up the rockface and over the edge of the ledge.

What a view! This was worth escaping from her governess and the inevitable scolding that would bring. She could see for what seemed forever, everything before her painted red-gold from the sun that now just touched the distant treetops and from rising Yavash behind the rock against which she leaned. Far below in the middle distance were the fishermen she had passed, anchoring their nets by lantern-light in the dark water, and nightbirds called from somewhere over her head. She purred contentedly and settled herself amidst the long grasses, leaning back against the rock to watch the sunset all over again.

It was barely dark, the stars just beginning to appear, when she heard a whimpering, panting, scrabbling. It seemed to be coming from the stairs below where she sat. Oh dear. What if it was a beast? Quietly drawing a dagger from the sheath at her waist, she shrank back into a friendly crevice in the rockface at her back. The sounds crept closer, but it wasn't till a hand appeared at the edge of the ledge that she realized it was a person. A tear-streaked frightened face followed the hand, quickly joined by the rest of a lovely young girl who immediately turned to look down whence she had come. A moan softly cut through the evening air just as a growl broke from below.

"Isilda, I'm coming! Grrrr... Stop, Isilda, it's no use to run."

Isilda sobbed and scratched at the rock, searching for higher handholds and unable to find any. Just as Eliara began to reach out to pull the other girl into hiding behind her rock, a form crawled over the edge of the ledge. It was ... a man? It must be! Yet it bore more resemblance to a beast with its straggling hair and filthy rags, the face suffused with rage and heat. Its eyes locked on the the trembling Isilda, and Eliara shrank back into her crevice, terrified.

Isilda, her short curly hair tousled and her skirts torn from the climb, stretched out a shaking hand toward the man, if man it was. "No, Laythen!" she whimpered. "I cannot be yours, you know that. I cannot! I am given to Gehren by my own hand. Let go of this notion, let go of me..." Her voice trailed off as she realized he was not listening. His breath rumbled in and out of his chest as he panted, glaring at her. Slowly he began to advance on her, his brutish bulk dwarfing her slight frame. "No!" she shrieked, and she tried to dodge aside toward the edge she'd so recently climbed over.

His laugh as he caught at Isilda was the most evil sound Eliara had ever heard. Her eyes closed tightly as she clenched her dagger for dear life and tried to squeeze herself into the rocks about her. Dear gods, don't let that ... that thing find her, too! After that, she could only peek at the two, Laythen shaking Isilda who was ineffectually hitting at his face. But she couldn't block out the sounds, the sounds of cloth ripping and fist hitting flesh, gasped breath and muffled cries for help. Tears drenched her face, pushing from her closed eyes, as she prayed harder than she had ever prayed before.

Just as Eliara was ready to push from her hiding place, she realized that there was only breathing to be heard, two people breathing, one coarse and harsh and panting, and the other half-sobbed but still quiet. She leaned forward, slowly taking in the scene before her. The man-beast, Laythen, stood with his head hanging, his body sagging with dejection. Isilda lay in the grass at his feet. There was blood covering the side of her head, and one sleeve was torn and hanging around an elbow, yet even as Eliara watched, her eyes opened and fixed on Laythen standing over her. They were clear eyes, reflecting Yavash's red light in an eery manner, and Eliara could see even in the near-dark that all fear was gone from them.

Isilda slowly sat up. She glanced at Laythen and then away, and to the world beyond the ledge she quietly said, "Never again, Laythen. Never again." She bowed her head for a moment, and then raised her face. Eliara could see tear-streaks on it as she stood, silvered and fiery in the moonlight. With a lurch, Isilda leaned over the edge of the ledge and let herself fall silently into the darkness below.

Laythen's anguished bellow was deafening, and Eliara found herself back in the crack. "Isilda, NOOOO..." he wailed. He whirled toward the cliff and slammed a fist into the rock, over and over again until Eliara could see that it was misshapen from the broken bones inside. He grunted like the beast he resembled, growled, howled. And then he, too, was gone over the edge of the ledge, following the love he would never have.

Left alone on the rock shelf, Eliara curled into a quivering, frightened ball, her forgotten dagger still wrapped in fingers so cold she couldn't feel them. After a time, a lone sob broke the new stillness. After an even longer time, the moons traversing the sky witnessed the elf's restless sleep.

One moment she knew nothing. The very next, she was awake. Not a muscle moved at first as she cast out her senses to explore the place she knew was not her comfortable home, full of family and servants. Finally one hand raised to shade her closed eyes, and then they opened, squinting at her surroundings. Where in the names of all the gods was she?

Ah, she'd gone walking around Laakvor, that's right. Slowly she sat up, marveling at the unaccustomed stiffness in her joints. She sighed contentedly as she gazed out over the world in front of her, painted rosy gold in the light of the morning sun rising over the cliffs at her back. The mists in the valley before her drifted through bush and tree like a slow-grazing herd of unshorn sheep, and ecstatic birdsong rose over the sound of tumbling water below the shelf where she sat.

Then the memory awoke. The terror of the night before burst upon her like a storm, and just as quickly she began to whimper and shake. Her hand flew to her dagger sheath, to find the blade safely put away. She clambered on hands and knees to the edge of the ledge, and throwing herself down, she searched the ground below with her blurring eyes. There, what was that? Cursing under her breath, she wiped the tears from her eyes with grubby fingers and peered again at the shape she'd seen. A man strode the rocks below, hauling something from the water. With a sobbed "No!" she jumped up and ran the few steps to the almost-trail down to the top of the giant's stair.

It took her only moments to reach the stream below, propelled as her feet were by her need to know. The man she'd seen from above looked up curiously as she stopped abruptly across the stream from him, looking like a deer running from the hounds. He smiled and asked, "Whate'er's the matter, mistress? Get caught out from home the night, did ye?" And he bent his back again to his burden in the water, pulling a netful of fish to rest on the rock at his feet.

He glanced up at the young elf again and was aghast to discover her face white as the mists behind him. As he watched, she wobbled and her eyes closed, and she collapsed to the ground in a heap.

He muttered a curse, and dropping his net, he leaped across the stepping stones to the girl's side. Gently he held her head and patted her cheek, and when her wild eyes opened again, his concerned face was her first sight. "Did you find them?" she asked, grabbing at his arm.

"Find who, mistress?" He seemed puzzled. "I've seen naught but me nets this fine mornin'. Say, are ye not Lord Mahr's young'un, from o'er t'other side o' the lake?"

"Them! They fell over the ledge last night, I saw them!" Her tears started again as she struggled to push him away and sit up. "He was dreadful to her, and she was so frightened. He hit her and made her bleed, and she told him she couldn't be his..."

The fisherman had started to frown. "Mistress, who're these people ye speak of?"

"She called him Laythen, and he called her Isilda. Do you know them? They both must be nearby, they fell from that ledge up there." She pointed vaguely in the direction whence she'd run. "We must find them, tell someone! Hurry!"

"Shhh, lass. There's naught here but ye an' me, by Berengaria I swear." He solemnly kissed his fingertips and raised them to the morning sun. He smiled comfortingly at the young girl next to him. "They dinna call this Laakvor fer nothin', ye know. We'd best be seein' 'bout gettin' ye home, mistress. Yer family'll be right upset with ye fer spendin' the night out, aye?" Winking, he pulled her to her feet.

"But...."

He shook his head. "Naught, lass. Look fer yerself." He swept his arm toward the flat rocks edging the streambed, which held nothing except for his flopping fishnet which was already halfway back into the water. He stifled an oath at the sight of it, and taking her hand, he pulled Eliara along after him back across the stream to rescue his morning's catch.

"There be a bite o' bread an' cheese in that sack there, and the water here be clear as snow fer yer drink, lass." He nodded toward a sack at the base of a tree and smiled as he turned away to empty the net and pack the fish.

With a sigh, Eliara smoothed her skirt and settled herself next to the fisherman's breakfast. She pulled a chunk off the loaf and took a bite, laying the rest in her lap as she broke a piece of cheese and tucked the leftovers back away. As she chewed, she pulled down her hair and carefully smoothed it back, braiding it neatly once more. Her eyes moodily watched the man while he worked, and occasionally she nibbled at the bread, brown and rich and flavorful. There'd be seven hells to pay when she got home, what with running away from her lessons and spending the night on the cliffs alone. The line between her eyes deepened at her thoughts, and she scowled unseeing at the roots of the tree gnarled into the ground next to her.

Laakvor, Shmaackvor. She knew what she'd seen! It had been real, no matter what that oaf seemed to think. Still...it was odd that there was no sign of them. Perhaps beasts had dragged them off? No, there was nothing here larger than a rabbit. Perhaps... She poked idly at something stuck in the skin of the tree, half-buried there. Suddenly she stopped. Staring at it, she pried at the bark until she'd freed the object entirely. She held it in the palm of her hand, curious.

What she held was a lady's brooch of an old style of workmanship she recognized from her grandmother's jewelry box. She rubbed with a licked thumb at the stone on the face of the pin, polishing smudges from etching there, the letter L surrounded by all sorts of curlicues. Turning it over, she peered at its back. The clasp was bent beyond use, and beneath it she could see faint marks in the metal backing. Intently she scrubbed at it with her wet thumb and the edge of her sleeve until she could make out words:

~Isilda~
Mine forever
~Leythan~

Eliara's eyes grew wide. She gripped the brooch tightly as she gazed up at the ledge where she'd spent the night, and then she glanced down at the tree root where the brooch had lain hidden for the gods knew how long. One tear slowly trickled down her cheek as she caressed the lovely pin and gently laid it back into the hole where she'd found it. Peeling a section of moss off the tree, she carefully packed it on top of the brooch, hiding it from sight. Her hand rested on the moss for a moment.

"Ye all right, lass?" The fisherman's anxious face swam into view. "Ye're lookin' right peaked again. Want I should fetch ye some water?" His hands chafed at hers as he strove to find a way to comfort Eliara without knowing what was wrong.

She smiled wanly at him. "I expect I've spent a restless night, that's all. To be expected, I suppose." She stood and shook out her skirt, nearly ruined by her adventures. She sighed.

'I'll be seein' ye home, Mistress," said the fisherman, gathering up his belongings and stuffing them into the backpack he wore.

She looked at him, buried under a large sack of fish as well as his other things, and tried to imagine him skipping over rocks and giggling at boots. She grinned up at him. "Beat you there!" she hollered and tore along the streambed, lickity-split, leaving him chuckling in her wake. When she reached the bend where the path left the water's edge, she stopped and looked back. The fisherman plodded along behind her, bent under his burden. Looking up, he smiled and waved her on. She smiled, too, and lifted a hand. And glancing at the tree with its secret, she turned away and skipped toward home.