"Isilda"

by Mireille rae'Glaren

Author's note: "Lake of Dreams" wrote itself months ago, and it was previously published in Waerd Aev. "Isilda" presented herself in much the same fashion. I would invite the reader to reread "Lake of Dreams" (available in Waerd Aev's archives) before reading this tale, but it's not mandatory.

"Mistress Isilda," called the voice of the maid from down the hall.

A slight frown wrinkled the perfect features of the young woman standing at the window, hidden behind the heavy draperies hanging there. "Oh, bother!" she sighed and peeked at her twin sitting in a rocker across the room.

That lovely chuckled at Isilda. "You may as well give up," she said. "You know Tabby won't."

"Shh!" hissed Isilda and stood motionless in her hiding place as the door opened and a mob capped head popped in.

"Now, where has she got to?" grumbled the tenacious Tabby. "Mistress Asolda, where's yer sister? She has a gentleman caller, an' I've showed 'im into the parlor." At this last, Tabby peered down her nose at Asolda, as though taking the young woman's station onto herself. Asolda merely smiled wordlessly at the maid's familiar antics. She was practically a member of the family, after all, and had dandled both girls when they were babes. Tabby it had been who had hidden the children's mishaps from their mother, Tabby who found bites to eat when supper had been withheld, Tabby who mended scrapes and heard confidences and dried tears. The chubby Halfling was more mother than maid, if truth be told.

Tabby's eyes sharpened as she spied toes under the drapes, and then they softened again. She winked at Asolda who was watching, and in a casual voice she said, "If ye see 'er, Mistress, tell 'er 'tis Master Laythen who's come to call, and 'e will be stayin' to take supper with the family." A gasp from behind the curtains brought a smile to the maid's face, and she didn't notice Asolda turning pink. Tabby practically sang as she turned to leave the room, "Supper in half an hour, dears. Best be gettin' tidied up."

Isilda's face was stormy as the door closed behind the Halfling maid. She flung the curtain aside and angrily paced to the door and back to the window. "I won't go to supper, that's all! I've told him and told him, and I just won't have it. He acts like he owns me, and I don't even like him! He's a brute, he's rude, he's...." A glance at her twin's stricken face stopped the heated flood of words. "Oh, Asol, I didn't mean..."

Asolda reached for Isilda's hand and smiled as she squeezed it gently. "'Tis all right, Isilda. You can't help how you feel. Nor can he." And she sighed. She smiled up at her contrite twin. "Now come. Let us tidy for supper as Tabby bade us. If we hurry to the dining room, perhaps we can manage to sit next each other."

Isilda hugged her sister and smiled at her. "Oh, Asol, I wish he would look at you. You are the sweetest thing and you care so much for him...." She stopped suddenly and stared intently into her sister's slanted violet eyes, the match of her own. "Asol! You remember the game we used to play? Swapping?" She grinned.

Asolda's laugh was light and breezy as she pulled her sister out of the room. "Now now, dear. Belike you've forgotten how different we are," and she chuckled as she tugged Isilda after her down the hall.

~~~~~~~~

Family suppers were a casual affair, usually a buffet served from a sideboard by the maid and eaten while seated on pillows thrown around the room, attended by whatever relatives happened near and by whatever callers or guests someone had invited. This evening's meal differed only in that the twins were ... twins. Everything about them matched, their hair arrangements, their dress, even their manner. They sat side by side between their brother, Manren, and their great-aunt, Latindra, and they captivated the entire family with their twinkling eyes and giggles and lovely charm. Laythen, who was the only guest, seemed mesmerized, staring from one to the other with a glower upon his already dark face. Occasionally he would pose a question to Asolda or Isilda, and one of the two would answer, but who was to say which was which? Finally he lapsed into a sullen silence, mostly unnoticed in the hubbub surrounding him.

One of the girls pushed their last shared platter away as their mother spoke quietly from across the room. "Daughters, do you take our guest out into the air for a breath." She smiled benignly at both of them.

"Of course, Mother," answered one as the other smiled at Laythen. The two young Elves gracefully rose, standing slender among the still-seated family, and waited for Laythen to duck his head, dab at his mouth with a napkin, and join them on their way to the gauzy drape blowing over the open doorway.

The evening was mild, light breezes whispering through the trees surrounding the cleared place they called the garden. It was not a tamed garden, directed by some sentient being's notion of what should grow where, but a cooperative effort between the plants living there and the Elves who tended to them. Some rearrangements had been made to enhance the beauty and peace of the clearing, and the flora obviously approved, as they flourished and seemed to grow more aware as the years passed. In any case, it was a spot where the twins loved to pass time, crooning as they stroked a leaf here or a petal there or convinced a branch to grow in another direction or a stem to curve more gracefully.

One of them sighed contentedly, trailing light fingers over a vine as she strolled, and the other smiled at Laythen, his stumpy Human bulk at odds with his surroundings. "We are delighted that you stayed for supper, Laythen." Her fingers twined themselves together as she glanced up at the stars peeking between wispy clouds. "I hope you found the food and company to your liking." She glanced at him again, still smiling.

He watched her closely, a furrow between his dark brows. "Which one are you?" he hissed. He scowled at the other, who stood with her head atilt, peering at him quizzically.

Then she laughed, the one farthest from him, and said, "You cannot mark us from the other, Laythen? Even our parents cannot if we seek to keep it from them." She laughed again, the sound twinkling silver in the dim light, and she skipped ahead, past the edge of vision. "Come," she called. "The brook will be gilt tonight, and the fireflies like moonbeams!"

The other twin smiled up at Laythen, blushing. Suddenly she laughed, her voice as silvered as her sister's, and she grabbed Laythen's hand and tugged him in the direction of the brook. "Come, let us run!" She grinned enchantingly over her shoulder at him, and he lumbered into a shambling trot after her.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Asolda crept into the twins' bower of a bedroom later that evening, quietly as a mouse. The rustle of the leaves on the plants through which she pushed betrayed her, however, and a gaethzen ray grew and sought her face from the direction of her sister's hammock. "Asol?" came a whisper.

Asolda's face was pink in the soft light. "Shhh, you'll waken Tabby!" She glanced back at the door, nearly hidden amongst the greenery with which the twins had erased almost all resemblance to "indoors" in their room.

Isilda studied her twin for a moment. Mussed hair. Wrinkles in her tunic. A dreaminess in her gaze, and a softness in her face. Smiling to herself, she whispered, "'Night, Asol. Dream sweet."

Asolda's eyes sharpened as they focused on Isilda, and she blushed bright scarlet as she quickly turned away to sink gracefully into her own pillow-strewn bed. "Dream sweet, Isil," and the gaethzen sphere faded slowly to moonlight through the windows again.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mistress Isilda," called the voice of the maid from down the hall.

A frown marred Isilda's cheerful face as she glanced at Asolda, calmly curled up and reading in her father's favorite chair. "Hmmm?" Asolda glanced up. "What is it, dearling?"

Isilda sighed. "Laythen rode up an hour ago. Why is Tabby coming only now? And why, Asol.... tell me this, why hasn't he figured out it's you he sees, and not me?" Isilda's gaze grew concerned as she watched her twin blush and seek escape in her book once again. "Oh, Asol," she sighed softly. "You have to tell him. This cannot go on."

Tabby's sharp eyes missed nothing when her head appeared just at that moment, neither Asolda's embarrassment or Isilda's unhappiness. "There you are!" She bustled into the room and gently smoothed Isilda's hair back. Her gaze searched the twin faces before her, concerned. "What is it, my dears? Ye know ye can tell ol' Tabby anything."

Isilda chuckled, and she reached to hug the chubby Halfling and kiss her on the cheek with a loud smacking noise. "Aye, Tabby," she smiled into the worried blue eyes. "It's only that great clod, Laythen." She sighed as she leaned against Tabby's comforting arm.

That worthy's face frowned, a rare sight indeed. She sighed, too. "Then ye'll not be likin' the word I bring ye. Yer da wishes to see ye in his study. An' HE is there, too." She nodded solemnly at Isilda, who grimaced as though stricken with a belly-grip.

"I don't feel well at all, Tabby," she began, but the Halfling shook her head regretfully.

"Nae this time, lass. There's no puttin' 'em off, I fear." Tabby glanced at the other twin just in time to see a slender finger unobtrusively brush a glisten from her soft red cheek. She sighed again. Softly, sadly she said, "I warned ye both no good would come o' this. Now, come along, 'Silda. Yer papa will be cross at havin' t'wait so long."

Isilda rose from the cushioned window seat where she'd been half-reclining, staring dreamily out at the kitchen gardens and the forest beyond. Her stomach actually did a flip-flop. If Laythen had been closeted with her father this entire time.... Oh, dear gods, it did not bear thinking about! She smoothed her skirt with suddenly chilled hands, lifted her chin and pasted an amused smile on her face as she swept out the door, an anxious Tabby in her wake and a miserable twin left behind.

Three pairs of eyes locked on her as she stepped into her father's study. Papa's were warm and welcoming, her mother's -- Mama here, too! Oh no! -- danced excitedly, and Laythen's gaze was molten black rock, hot and churning. Isilda's stomach turned over again, and one slender hand smoothed her waistband and then settled there for moral support. She smiled at her parents, ignoring Laythen entirely. "Yes, Papa? What is it? Asol and I were just going to go out to gather some herbs."

Lord Mahr smiled at the young woman before his desk. She was the spitting image of her mother at that age, both of the twins were, and no one could fault a man for looking twice or happening by at mealtime perhaps more often than he should. A pity his estate was not large enough to provide well for all his children. Manren would have the farms and the manor house, and at least now he'd know that one of the girls was well established, too.

"I have delightful news for you, my dear daughter. Please, sit." He glanced a mite nervously at his wife as Isilda gracefully sat herself on the windowsill instead of the chair pulled conveniently close to Laythen. Clearing his throat, he continued. "You know that I have long wished for your happiness, yours and your sister's, and I've been offered a chance to ensure that for you far beyond my years." He smiled again at his daughter, not noticing how her face paled. He strode over to stand next to Laythen's chair. "Laythen here has come to beg your hand in marriage, child, and I've granted him that honor." Lord Mahr smiled over at his wife and reached for her hand, and then they both turned to beam at their daughter.

Isilda's hollow eyes finally stared at Laythen, who was rising from his chair, an eager expression upon his face. Without a word, she spun from his reaching grasp and was suddenly and violently ill.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Lady Mahr's was the first face that swam into Isilda's focus. Her worried expression brought Isilda back to the present too quickly. She found herself lying on the settee in her father's study, Tabby rushing in with smelling salts and compresses, and her mother's soft hand brushing her cheek. "Just lie there for a moment, dearling," her mother murmured as she brushed a fretful Halfling away. The maid hovered yet a moment till she saw Isilda clearly awake again, and then stumped toward the door, muttering none too quietly under her breath about those who would heckle the sick to an early grave with all their bejabbering and misguided ministrations, and furthermore.... And the door slammed behind her.

As reality made itself apparent again, Isilda's eyes, fixed on her mother's now-calm face, filled with tears that began to spill. "Mama," she whispered. "Mama, please don't make me do this."

Her mother smiled kindly and wiped her streaming cheeks with a lightly scented handkerchief. "Shhh, daughter. You know your papa wants only what's best for you, and this will be a good union, you and Laythen."

"But Mama..."

"Enough, Isilda. You're young, and this is a great excitement and surprise, I can understand that. Enough carrying on. You'll grow used to the idea before the marriage takes place." Lady Mahr patted her wan daughter's hand and tucked the hanky into it. "Wipe your eyes, child, so that your future husband won't be..."

"Mama! I need to tell you something!" Isilda's voice surprised even her. She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the settee, and glancing across the room at her father's shocked face, Isilda dropped her voice a little. She grasped her mother's hands in her own and looked earnestly into her mama's dear, understanding, kind face. "Mama, I cannot wed Laythen. Asol should, not me. I cannot."

The dismay and puzzlement on her mother's face pushed Isilda on. With a deep breath, she continued. "I cannot wed Laythen because...because he thinks he's been in love with me, and it's really Asol he wants. And..." Isilda's resolve almost left her at this point. Her voice dropped to barely more than a whisper. "And I've given myself to another."

This revelation was greeted with a gasp and an instant uproar. An ogre that had been her loving father leaned over her, demanding details in a loud and threatening manner. The cool serenity that had bathed her mother was gone in a snap, leaving behind it a frantic and distraught woman. Laythen was forgotten in the ruckus, left in a backwater on the other side of the room, hearing only that the woman he had wanted for so long, the woman he needed and could not see life without...that woman didn't want him. Instead she had fooled him like a schoolchild, played silly games with her sister using him for her target, all the while encouraging another, welcoming another.

After a moment, he quietly rose, his jaws clamped so tightly that they ached and his face purple with rage, and just as quietly he slipped out of the door and out of the house.

~~~~~~~~~

The house was uncharacteristically quiet in the next days. While it used to be peaceful, now it was just ... quiet. Asolda found it unnatural and unnerving, especially since no one would speak to her about whatever was the matter. Isilda was locked in a spare bedroom, and only Tabby was admitted to pass meals and later retrieve the dishes untouched. The Halfling wasn't talking, either, beyond a cross, "I could hae told 'em t'leave it alone! But no, they had t'go an'..." And there she usually had stomped far enough along the hall that the rest of her muttering was inaudible.

Finally, Asolda wrote a note: "Tell me what to do." She slipped it under the door just after Tabby had gone away with another uneaten meal, and she quietly called her sister's name. There was no answer, but a quiet rustle on the other side of the door. She glanced around, and seeing no one, called softly, "I'll be back in an hour, Isil. Tell me how to help you." With one last long glance at the door, she sighed and lightly stepped down the hall to the twins' room.

An hour later, Asolda was back at the door, lightly tapping again. "Isilda? Answer me, Isil.." The only response was the slip of paper appearing from under the door. Asolda snatched it up and scanned it quickly. 'A cloak and an apple under my window after lunch tomorrow.' The tension leaving Asolda would have been visible to anyone. Bending with her mouth near the keyhole, she whispered, "I'll be there." She heard Isilda move away from the door, and then she herself walked thoughtfully back down the hall.

~~~~~~~~~

Isilda leaned back against the tree and gazed moodily at the nearby stream rushing past, whispering to itself and any other who would listen. It would have been wonderful to be free of her prison of a room, if only she could rescue herself from the prison of her situation as easily. She munched her apple and closed her eyes, savoring a moment of peace.

Her eyes opened abruptly. What was that? An odd sound, something she'd not heard before. Frowning slightly, she glanced around. The dusk was coming on, and it altered shapes in strange ways. She really should be going. The cliffs past Laakvor were a goodly trek from home, and while she had spent the night there before, the prospect of sharing her spot with some sort of unfamiliar creature was not an enticing one.

She rose to her feet and shook out her cloak, glancing around. She found her gaze transfixed by a large shadow that moved toward her. Unthinking she began to back up, till she fetched up against the tree behind her. The shadow rumbled as it approached, till the rumbling became audible as muttering, and then as entreaties and endearments. "Isilda, my lovely Isilda, my heart's Elf, just give me your hand. I've something for you, my wife, just hold out your hand." Isilda's mind recoiled. Laythen! Dear gods, what was wrong with him?

The stocky Human grew close enough for her to make out his features. He'd not changed his clothes since the last night she'd seen him, in her father's study, nor apparently had he shaved since then. His eyes were wilder than his hair, and Isilda felt her skin crawl with the beginning of fear as she looked into them. She cautiously felt her way backward around the tree. "Laythen," she said, struggling to appear calm, "I am not to be your wife. I do not love you, Laythen. It was not in the stars that you and I would marry. I'm very sorry." And then he was close enough to lunge at her, and with a shriek, she turned to run.
~~~~~~~~~

She could hear herself whimpering as her fingers struggled for a hold on the cliff. Finally she gained the ledge at the top, and when she turned to peer down, she moaned softly. He was just below.

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

Isilda sobbed and scratched at the rock, searching for higher handholds and unable to find any. She was jumping to reach a shadow on the rock face when 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 trembling Isilda.

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 she had ever heard. He grabbed her sleeve first, which ripped off its seam, and too fast for thought, he had hold of her cloak. Just as quickly she doffed it and took a step, but then Laythen had her by the shoulders and shook her violently. She ineffectually hit at his face, aiming for his eyes, but few blows connected. Her cries for help were muted by breathlessness and terror. It suddenly stopped when he struck her, one hard blow with his fist to the side of her face.

And then there was silence, only breathing to be heard, two people breathing, one coarse and harsh and panting, and the other half-sobbed but still quiet. 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. Slowly her eyes opened and fixed on Laythen standing over her. They were clear eyes, reflecting Yavash's red light in an eery manner, 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 tear-streaked face. She stood, silvered and fiery in the moonlight. Then 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. "Isilda, NOOOO..." he wailed. He whirled toward the cliff and slammed a fist into the rock, over and over again until it was misshapen from the fractured 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.

~~~~~~~

Isilda's broken body was carried home to Lord Mahr's manor house three days later. It had been found by night fishermen out past the Lake of Dreams at the foot of the cliffs there, and one of them happened to recognize the girl as a daughter of the Lord past the Lake. That one had run ahead of his companions to warn the household before the sorrowful burden arrived. He it was who told the Lord about the other one they'd found, too, the body of a Human man, gentlefolk by his dress but not by his keeping since he was unshaved and his clothing in disrepair. Indeed, the young miss's was, too, but he would say no more of that, begging your Lordship's pardon...