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From: eriadoriii@aol.comnospam (EriadorIII)
Subject: {ASSM} Ring of Power Part 7
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Note: This section has grown out of control. I had to split it into three
parts.

Chapter Five: Life Dreams

	"Set him on the bed," the man hastened to the confused women.  They stared at
him dumbly as he approached.  The entire scene confused Liselle and she was
having a difficult time wrapping her mind around it.  Erin, who had more
exposure to the extraordinary, dismissed the contents of the room completely,
focusing her distrust on the figure that scurried close.
	The man's appearance did nothing to engender trust in either woman.  He
appeared human from a distance but as he approached, their doubts increased. 
He was taller than most humans were, taller even than most elves, though his
thin build might indicate some relation to the Fair Folk.  He was dressed in
plain white robes that covered him from neck to ankle and stretched along his
abnormally long arms. His head was extremely narrow and extremely long, leaving
little room for features, and completely devoid of hair. His nose was small and
hooked and his mouth was narrow and pursed.  When he spoke his lips barely
moved but the words came out like wind blowing through the trees.  But it was
his eyes that made him seem alien.  Completely blue were the orbs, and without
a pupil.  Erin caught herself gazing into their depths and she could feel a
force like the tidal pull of an ocean draw her deeper.  Mercyn groaned and
shifted in her grasp, startling her back to herself.  The figure in white
reached out to help steady the warrior.  His fingers were as out of proportion
as the rest of his body and Erin thought she caught sight of a sixth finger.
	Before the man could touch Mercyn, Liselle stepped between them.  "Who are
you?"
	The man in white stopped in his tracks, confused.  He looked at Mercyn for a
moment and then turned his gaze to Liselle.  "What do you mean?"
	Erin pulled back on Mercyn, the effect being to pull the entire trio a step
back from the strange man.  Something about this place was screaming for her to
run.
	"Who are you?" Liselle repeated.
	The man furrowed his brows.  "I am who you have come to see," his voice
betrayed his confusion.
	"I don't understand," Liselle looked at the man like he was crazy. She
flinched back from him a little before continuing. "We saw your light and came
looking for help.  We didn't know you would be here."
	A sudden smile erupted from the man's face.  "Ah, I get it now.  You are
teasing poor Falindimar," he lifted one finger and waggled it at Liselle. 
"That is not very nice.  You know I am not very well these days."
	Liselle was quite convinced this man was mad and Erin was not sure that she
disagreed.  Liselle stumbled over her thoughts for a moment, unsure how to
handle a lunatic.
	"Luckily for me I can see through your joke," his laugh sounded like a high
wheeze.  He dug into the folds of his robes and then pulled out a folded piece
of parchment.  "See, I still have your letter."
	Liselle ignored the proffered letter and shook her head.  Her gaze was wide as
she stepped back.  Mercyn groaned as he was jostled.  "But I can't read," the
words were almost imploring as she stared at the piece of paper.
	"Now you are really teasing poor Falindimar," he admonished the girl.  He
unfolded the pieced of paper and showed it to her.  "Now we both know that that
is your signature right there."
	Liselle found her eyes drawn to lower corner of the paper, where one of the
man's fingers tapped the page.  The minute her eyes settled on the words
everything became suddenly clear.
	"Of course, how could I have forgotten," a smile replaced the look of caution.
 "Oh Falindimar, it is so good to see you again."
	Erin instantly knew what had happened.  Her initial reaction was to step away
from the man but as she tried to move she found her muscles locked.  Sensing
the struggle, Falindimar turned his gaze on her.  All traces of confusion and
insanity were gone as he faced the elf.
	"My dear, it is good to see you again.  You look famished, perhaps you would
like some food?"  He waved his hand at the table laden with food.  Erin,
though, could not take her eyes from his.
	"Oh my, that certainly looks good," Liselle exclaimed.  "Let's lay him down
and then we can eat."
	"Yes, why don't you lay him down on the bed," his eyes still held the elf's.
	Erin's mind screamed in rebellion, begging her body to react, but none of her
muscles were willing to respond except for the violent clenching in her
stomach.  
              The man in while stretched out one of his large hands and gently
laid it on the elf's shoulder.  "Here, let me help you."
              The moment his hand touched her shoulder the screaming in her
mind shut off.  Warmth spread through her body, covering her in a sense of
peace.  His touch was gentle yet she could feel its strength.  Gently he
removed the wounded warrior from around her and guided him, along with Liselle,
towards the bed.  Erin stood rooted to the spot, even after he removed his
hand.  She was afraid that if she moved the warmth would go away.
              Liselle and Falindimar laid Mercyn on the bed and then the man in
white turned back to the elf.  He waved her forward and indicated one of the
chairs.  "Come, come.  Eat, rest.  You look like you could use it," his words
were honey and they flowed through her body, causing a shiver to run up her
spine.
              As if reacting to his words, the elf felt a wave of fatigue and
hunger surge through her body.  The smells that wafted from the table were
pleasant and appealing eliciting a rumble from her stomach.  Liselle had
already sat at one of the chairs and had helped herself to a chunk of roast
beef.  She dipped it in a small bowl of gravy and then sighed in pleasure.  The
elf could stand it no longer and rushed to take the second chair.  Greedily she
snatched a piece of bread and a hunk of cheese, quickly stuffing them into her
mouth.
              Falindimar stood back from the trio and watched the two women dig
into the food.  Silently he chuckled and then he waved his hand.  Instantly the
two women slipped back into their chairs, asleep.  Falindimar waved his hand
again and suddenly their chairs were beds and the women were lying flat on
their backs.
              "Sleep, my beautiful ones," he murmured to the sleeping forms. 
"Sleep and dream and let us see what presents you brought me."

              Liselle was a little girl and she sat in the middle of her
parents small home.  The house was barely more than a shack.  The family could
barely afford more on the money her mother made occasionally sewing a dress for
the Countess or one of the other ladies in the village.  Her father had lost
his job at the quarry when a wagonload of marble had crashed onto his leg.  He
had recovered enough to walk but the quarry did not want him back, especially
considering it was his drunkenness that had caused the accident.  He had tried
several other jobs but could hold nothing regular.  Now he just spent his days
brewing some foul substance in his still and imbibing it until he passed out.
              The house had three rooms, a large room where the family ate and
her brothers slept, a smaller room where her parents slept, and the tiny room
where she slept.  The main room also contained the stove and the pantry where
their meager food supplies were kept.  The only furniture was six sturdy wooden
chairs, a table, and an old, ratty cushioned chair.  Her father loved the
chair.  He would point it at the open door and sit for hours, watching the life
of the village and drinking himself to oblivion.  Liselle didn't know where the
chair had come from.  Certainly it was quite expensive when it was new and the
family could never have afforded it so she doubted they had bought it.  All she
knew was that the chair had always been there as long as she could remember. 
The only other pieces of furniture in the family owned were the bed and the
small armoire in her parent's room and the tiny bed of her own in her room. 
Her brothers slept on mats of straw that had been set up in the corner of the
common room.  Liselle's room was little more than a closet, with the bed taking
up most of the space, but her mother had insisted that she, as the only girl,
be given a room to herself.  Liselle treasured the privacy of her little room.
             Liselle loved her mother.  Her earliest memories were of the
warmth of her mother's arms.  She remembered her mother holding her and
banishing the remnants of an awful nightmare.  She remembered her mother
tending her horribly scraped knee.  She remembered her mother lecturing her
brothers for teasing their little sister.  Her mother had always told her she
was special.  The other children in the village teased her because her family
was so poor.  She would run home crying to her mother who would always laugh
and tell her how the others were just jealous because she was so special.  She
loved her mother.
             On this night the family was just settling into supper, a stew of
turnips and a meat that Liselle could not identify, when the yelling started.  
At first it was just a lone woman's scream; a scream of terror.  It was soon
joined by another shout, this one in anger.  Then another woman screamed,
accompanied by a crash and a boom.  Liselle and her family just looked at each
other, fear evident on the faces of the children.  The noises outside grew in
volume as more voices were added.  A loud whoosh could be heard and then light
blossomed in the night as someone's home caught fire, casting flickering
shadows through the window of Liselle's tiny shack.
            "Hodden, go see what it is," her mother seemed calm as she stood
and collected her children into the circle of her arms.  She glared at
Liselle's father as he just sat silently at the table, his head bowed,
listening to the screaming.
            The noise was horrible and Liselle began to cry.  Her mother pulled
her closer and Liselle pressed her head against her mother's stomach.  "Fine,
if you are too much of a coward, I will look."
            She gently disengaged her crying daughter and admonished her sons
to remain still.  She glared one more time at her husband and then marched over
to the window.  She peeked through and watched as carnage ensued in the vision.
 She gasped and covered her mouth and then looked away.  She ran back to her
children and fell to her knees.  She wrapped them in her arms and pulled them
in tight.
            The laughter of men joined the screaming of the villagers.  More
flames lit the night and more women screamed.
Suddenly someone was pounding on the door.  The sound caused them all to jump,
even their father. The family stood still, unsure how to respond.  The pounding
on the door brought the terror of the night to their very home and no one
wanted to let it in.
            "Please help me!  Please!" a woman's voice, tears mixing with
horror, screamed through the door as the pounding returned.  Liselle's mother
looked at her father, who refused to meet her eyes.
            "Help me," desperation filled the voice as her body slumped against
the door.  Her voice lost all its strength as her tears overwhelmed her.  "Help
me."
            Liselle's mother suddenly stood and walked over to the door. 
Without hesitation, she pulled open the door and revealed the village's
nightmare to her family.  The woman sat against the door, crying.  Liselle
recognized her as the woman who lived next door.  Her son was one of the girl's
primary rivals.  He would always push her to the ground and make fun of her
clothes.  Whenever her mother would speak to the neighbor about her son, the
woman would only shake her head and act like it was all Liselle's fault.  Now
the woman sat outside their door, crying and begging for their help.  The woman
looked up when the door opened, hope blossoming on her face.  Liselle's mother
bent down and gave the woman a hug.
            Liselle could see past the two women and had a good view of the
village.  Men swarmed everywhere, light from the fires dancing off pieces of
metal that adorned their bodies.  The men laughed and dove in and out of the
shadows, chasing the villagers before them.  Some of the men rode horses, the
great beasts clattering through the village and running over the villagers as
they fled.  One of the men saw the two women at the open door of the shack and
stepped towards them.  He was dark and swarthy, tarnished mail clung to his
chest and a savage, curved sword was clutched in his fist.  Liselle wanted to
scream as the man approached but terror froze the muscles of her throat.  Her
mother didn't see the man as she hustled the neighbor woman to her feet.  When
she did finally spot him it was too late, he was too close.
           The man laughed as the neighbor woman screamed.  She scrambled away
from Liselle's mother and tried to dart past the man.  He laughed again and
grabbed her by the hair as she passed.  With a brutal tug he yanked her into
his embrace.  He kissed her obscenely and then licked the side of her face with
his vile tongue.  The woman's screams were cut short as the man's sword
blossomed from the center of her back.  Her body fell limp and the man pushed
it free from his blade, allowing it to collapse into a heap at his feet.  He
smiled evilly at Liselle's mother who had witnessed the entire scene in shock.
           Rousing herself, Liselle's mother tried to slam the door in the
man's face.  Another laugh escaped his lips as he caught the closing portal and
kicked it open, sending her mother sprawling.  Liselle screamed for her father
to do something as the man swept into their shack but he had hidden under the
table and curled into a ball, crying.  Liselle looked to her brothers but they
were as scared as she was.  The invader's lips curled into a cruel smile as he
watched the family cower.  Then he bent and grabbed her mother's hair, pulling
her to her feet.
           "My, my, aren't we blessed," the man's hungry gaze ran up the length
of her body, pausing on her heaving chest.  He adjusted his grasp and grabbed
the neck of her dress, tearing it down the front.  Her mother's breasts spilled
out, white as milk and as large as melons, each topped with a small, pink
nipple.  The man laughed again and then he brought his mouth to one of the
nipples.  He bit cruelly into the soft flesh and then flicked at the hard bud
with his tongue.  Her mother cried in pain as his mouth surrounded the entire
nipple and he sucked savagely.
           The man stopped ravaging her mother and a victorious grin split his
face as he caught the little girl's eyes.  Her mother threatened to squirm away
from the man's grip but he pulled her closer with a vicious jerk, knocking the
air from the woman's lungs.  His tongue lashed out again, sweeping a swath
along the woman's cheek.  He pressed his lips against her heaving mouth and
thrust his tongue cruelly into her mouth.  Liselle watched, helpless with fear,
as her mother struggled weakly in her attackers arms.
A horn sounded in the village and the clash of metal against metal echoed in
the night.  Cursing the man broke the kiss and looked out the door.  He snarled
and then pushed the woman against the wall.  He glanced at the family and
spared a sneer for the man who cringed beneath the table.  When his gaze
settled on Liselle, a different kind of smile lit his face.  Another blast from
the horn echoed through the night and the man took a halting glance over his
shoulder.  He looked back at the girl, avarice in his eyes.  He took a step
towards her but went no further as Liselle's mother hurled herself at the man,
her fingers curled into claws and scratching at his eyes.  The man threw her
away from him, sending her crashing into the wall where she slid to the floor
in a heap.   Blood seeped from a gash on the side of his face and he swore as
he wiped at the blood on his cheek.
            Liselle screamed as the man stepped towards the fallen woman, his
sword poised to strike.  Her scream turned to whimpering hysteria as his sword
slid home, thrusting through her heart.  Her mother gurgled once and then blood
flowed from her mouth as her life drifted away.  The sounds of combat were
louder now and the man stepped towards the door.  He paused and looked back one
final time.  He blew the little girl a kiss and then fled into the night.

            Liselle was older now.  Her mother had been dead for several years
and the family had drifted even deeper into poverty.  Her eldest brother had
started working at the quarry and his money helped, but her drunkard father had
gambled most of it away and had drunk away the rest.  Her brother had once
tried to hide the money from him but her father beat him so bad that he could
not walk for days.  He nearly lost his job then, but he begged and they let him
stay on, at a reduced wage.  Her other brothers also helped where they could. 
They were each old enough for an apprenticeship somewhere but no one wanted to
deal with the family.  Liselle suspected it was because they thought their
father's disgrace was contagious.  She supposed they might be right, as even
now her brother was beginning to join their father during his evening binges.
            She had assumed most of the duties that her mother formerly
handled.  She cooked and cleaned, she shopped and mended.  She provided the
womanly touch that every home needed though her efforts often went for naught
as her father would quickly undo most of her work in a drunken fancy.  She was
shopping for some cloth when her life changed.  Her father had torn her elder
brother's only shirt the night previous.  He had beaten the boy again for some
imagined slight.  He often beat his sons but he never touched his daughter.  He
would be overcome in a mindless rage but when he saw Liselle, all the anger
would disappear and he would fling himself around the girl, sobbing into her
shoulder and chanting her mother's name.
            She had just purchased a swath of ugly gray cloth and was carrying
it home when the Count's procession rode into the village.  Liselle had seen
him many times before, as he would often descend from his great castle and tour
the villages of his lands.  He was about the same age as her father but where
the years of drinking had left her father little more than a husk, the Count
was still able-bodied and fit.  His black hair was just barely dusted with gray
and his face was only slightly lined by the stresses of age.  The count's face
was sharp and his eyes were small and dark, yet they seemed to catch the eye of
every villager.  He was dressed in golden mail and an ornate sword decorated
the side of his saddle.  He was accompanied by a guard of ten men, each dressed
resplendently in shining mail and astride huge, brown horses, each alike,
lances flying the count's pennant, a golden lion on a field of red.  On one
side of the Count his son rode.  He was a younger image of the older man.  He
was perhaps the age of Liselle's oldest brother though he carried himself with
an arrogance above his years.  He wore no mail, though his black clothes were
fine beyond anything that the villagers possessed.  He seemed bored with the
whole procession and stared glumly at the sky.  On the other side of the count
rode his wife, a beautiful woman who instantly reminded Liselle of her mother. 
Stately, her brown hair made up into an elaborate coiffure and the green of her
satin gown rippling like fire in the afternoon sun, the woman would bestow a
nod and an occasional smile on everyone who met her eyes.
             Liselle left the spinner's shop just as the procession passed. 
She looked up and found her eyes locked with the Countess'.  The older woman
smiled and then looked at the girl appraisingly.  She nodded, more to herself
than to Liselle, and leaned over to whisper something to her husband.  The
Count jerked his head around to find the girl and then called for his guards to
stop.  He leaned back in his saddle and said something to a man who rode behind
him. The man got down from his horse and stepped over to the stunned girl.  He
was young, though not as young as the Count's son, and his hair was golden
yellow, a rare color in this land.  He moved with grace and his supple body
seemed to flow as he moved.  Liselle reckoned him the most beautiful man she
had ever seen.
            "My lady," Liselle flinched at the inappropriate title but relaxed
when she heard no mocking in his voice.  "The Count wishes you to guide him to
your domicile."
            Liselle was at a loss.  She thought herself in some strange dream
or even a nightmare.  She looked around at the other villagers who had all
halted to watch.  One look at their faces revealed that they were as surprised
as she was.
            "Girl?  Are you well?"  The man laid a hand on her shoulder and
shook her slightly.  His voice did not seem concerned, merely impatient.
            Liselle shook her head.  She was still incapable of words.
            "Are you dumb?" Now he was worried, though she doubted it was for
her.
            She shook her head again and then forced words from her throat. 
"N-no, my lord."
            A smile lit up his face and Liselle thought she was staring at an
angel.  "Good.  Let's clear up some things.  First, I am not a lord.  You can
call me Garin.  Secondly, you had best show us where you live and quickly.  The
Count is not a patient man."
            Liselle did as he said and soon the procession was before their
tiny shack.  She looked with despair at the hovel.  It was so tiny and so
incredibly dirty.  She was ashamed to admit that this was her home.  She was
sure that the Count would just turn around and leave.  Her fears seemed founded
when she turned back to the Count and the Countess.  They were arguing quietly
about something and then she cut him off with a gesture of her hand.  He shook
his head and nodded at Garin.
            The golden man smiled again at the girl.  "Let us meet your
parents."
            Her father was sitting in his accustomed spot, in his old chair,
and with the door open.  He had slipped into a semi-conscious stupor and had
not noticed the group stop before his house.  Now, as Garin and Liselle stepped
inside, he seemed to sense their presence and wrestled himself awake.  He
glared at the Count's servant.  "What do you want?"  He growled.
            "Good day, sir," Garin bowed, accounting her father more authority
than he deserved.  "The Count has sent me to inquire as to the availability of
your daughter.  He would like to employ her as a handmaid for his wife, the
Countess."
            Liselle was as surprised as her father.  Instant joy threatened to
spring from her chest as she considered the offer.  She could leave this place.
 She could leave the horrible life of caring for her drunken and cruel father. 
She could leave the horrible memories of the night her mother died.  Her mother
had always told her she was special and the Countess must have seen it, too.
Her hope was dashed as her father barked a harsh, hacking laugh.  "You can't
have the little tramp.  She is mine."
            "There will, of course, be some recompense for her services," Garin
offered.
            Her father's gaze had wandered to her face.  Tears were forming in
the corners of his eyes as they glazed over.  Liselle felt him looking more
through her than at her.  Softly he whispered her mother's name.  He seemed
oblivious to the golden-haired man and then he suddenly snapped back to
attention, all emotions erased.
            "How much?" His voice was sly and filled with greed.
            "Ten gold per month."
            His jaw dropped and he let out a shrill whoop.  "You just bought
yourself a whore, my boy.  Tell the lord Count that he can mate her with his
dogs if he wishes, just as long as the gold keeps coming."  He laughed aloud,
hacking coughs and streaking tears marring his hysterical fit.
            Garin stepped back in distaste and gave the girl a pitying look and
then a reassuring smile.  He turned and walked outside.  Liselle followed and
had a hard time concealing the happiness that threatened to explode from inside
her.  Garin related the news to the Count and the Countess.  He turned back to
the girl one last time before climbing astride his horse.  "We will send for
you on the morrow."
            The Countess smiled benignly at her and Liselle could not contain
the smile that crept to her lips.  Her joy grew to overwhelming proportions but
then she caught sight of the Count's son.  Her smile faded away and a ball of
fear grew in her stomach as she met his cruel and avaricious gaze.

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