Beneath Starlit Skies

7

She is silent, not daring to make even the slightest of sounds in fear of enraging her captor. Celeriel doesn't know what to do—what can she do? She cannot fight and cannot flee. With every step she grows farther and farther away from Mairon—the only one she knows might save her.

Blood continues to drip onto the ground and soak into the white fur coat draped over her shoulders. It's all over her face and she can feel the warmth leaving her as it oozes down her arm. The wound is painful though not yet lethal and she wonders how long it might be until it is. She continues to press down on it with her dress, hoping that the bleeding will stop; it does not.

She is glad that she hasn't been killed. The monster could've decided to kill instead of capturing her but it didn't.

And yet..

She fears a fate worse than death awaits her at their shared destination.

She glances upwards.

A star twinkles brightly and she is struck with an idea. She stills suddenly as the orc shifts and readjusts his grip on her so that she hangs over his bulking shoulders. He cannot see her hands or how she manipulates them. He cannot see her long copper hair which shines silver in the moonlight. Quietly, she begins plucking strands of hair and leaving a trail of them behind. The trail is discreet and the monster does not notice. She desperately hopes that Mairon will.

Time passes on and Mairon has yet to be seen.

She waits, and waits, but Mairon does not appear.

Her heart sinks into the ground, and she sinks further into despair and fear. Her eyes sting with tears and she stifles a whimper.

Celeriel is terrified.

Mairon is not coming.

She trembles at the thought.

She doesn't want to die alone. She cannot bear that pain again. The memories of despair and loneliness bring the worst sort of agony.

Celeriel feels cold.

Her coat does nothing to ease her; it feels like the chill is coming from inside. Its weight over her shoulders is no comfort at all. Suddenly, the orc growls and roughly shoves her off his shoulders. While still maintaining a firm grip on her arm, he snatches her white coat and throws it to the ground. He snarls something to himself but she doesn't understand. She assumes it has something to do with the weight of the long garment. Fur is heavy, and the coat must've been adding too much weight for the orc.

She shudders now that she is exposed to the night air. It is freezing, and every time she exhales she can see her clouded breath.

She is too tired and too cold to feel anything but exhaustion.

She is numb.

Celeriel glances down at the pair of white coats, now stained red, and blinks. Now there is only one again.

I'm seeing double... how wonderful...

She is vaguely aware of the blood pooling beneath her and the sense of unease it brings her. Her mind feels hazy and it takes so much effort to keep herself alert and aware.

When her tired eyes land on a sharp stone lying just within her reach, they sharpen back into focus.

There is a choice to be made now.

She could try to fight.

She could try to run.

I cannot give in to despair...

To surrender would mean defeat which in turn means death.

Celeriel decides to live.

If no one is coming to save me... she thinks, eyes steeling. I will save myself.

Celeriel grabs the stone with a trembling hand and hides it behind her back. She can hear her blood pumping in her ears and feel the adrenaline pulsing through her veins.

The orc is muttering to himself now, standing in a manner almost dismissively of her. His back is to her and his iron grip has slackened considerably. It is clear that he doesn't view her as a threat.

A mistake. Maybe even a fatal one.

With nimble steps and deadly silence, Celeriel bludgeons the stone into the back of the orcs skull. She can feel the stone shatter bone beneath her and the orc falls like a stringless puppet. She watches it fall—limbs sprawling across the ground.

The bloodied stone drops to the ground, followed immediately by Celeriel herself. Her face is ashen, and her wide eyes are fixated on her fallen captor.

She just——

Nausea swells in her stomach and she has to clap a hand to her mouth to stop herself from vomiting.

She trembles.

Is it... dead? Am I free?

Her arm throbs.

Celeriel shuts her eyes and tries to regain control over her uneven breathing. She can feel herself growing weaker and knows that she must stop the bleeding immediately.

She moves to stand.

Something yanks her by the neck.

She is strangled violently as two hands suddenly seize her neck. She struggles desperately to pry them off but it's no use. She is not strong enough. She failed to kill the orc and her attempt only enraged it. She can see the glint of madness in the orc's eyes as it leers at her with pure loathing and its fingers tighten around her throat. She gasps for air—-she tries to scream. But there is no air for her to scream with. She cannot scream. She cannot escape. She can only hear her heart pounding like drums.

(Doom, doom, doom.)

Her eyes roll upwards and she can see stars.

Please! The corners of her vision darken. Please!

The world spins and blurs in and out of focus. It feels like she is falling, and falling, as the world goes round, and round—spiralling into darkness.

The moon and stars seems unbearably bright and illuminates the entire forest below. In its light, a large silhouette suddenly soars above them, through the tops of the pine trees, and into the orc who howls in agony as the great adamant jaws of a golden beast tear into his arm, throwing him off Celeriel.

Now freed, Celeriel sputters and gasps desperately for breath; air fills her burning lungs and they cry in relief as the dark patches in her vision slowly fade away. Now she can properly see the titan-like wolf growling at the squealing orc, baring its fangs. The wrathful beast radiates with a power that makes the earth quake. The fury in its terrible gleaming eyes burn like molten gold.

It terrifies her.

She trembles as the wolf lunges at the orc, fangs piercing his neck and gripping it tightly as it violently throttles it this way and that. She blinks as blood sprays onto her face. The orc's torso falls to the ground with a wet plop, but the head still hangs from the wolf's maw.

Oh my god...

Celeriel stumbles backwards and falls.

They stare at one another.

The wolf drops the disembodied head. The head lands with a splat and rolls towards her with its tongue hanging limply out of it's gaping mouth.

She scrambles away from it.

The wolf winces and steps towards her. She stares at the wolfs maw, blood-soaked fur, and sharp fangs with a horrified expression.

No, no, no!

She bursts into hysterics.