Dahlia and the Witch

[Rayalia 537]

Spoiler

Do Not Metagame. Solely the letter at the end may be known by those who read this post, as if they had come across it in the woods.

 

 

She wasn’t always turned away from Nevaehlen’s gates, but when she was, it wasn’t usually with a witch hunt, a wood elf, and a variety of Colborns. It was a bright day, admittedly, despite the quest at hand; a warm one as they rode out for Numendil, continuing on even as they gave up their search after a lengthy investigation of the Aran-în-Eryn. Pleasant, some could say. A pleasant, pleasant day.

 

Until the O’Rourke child spontaneously found the witch.

 

Off they rode once more, this time with an added Numenedain Guard in tow, and the golden haired youth led them far to the outskirts of Petra, into the woods beneath the plateau of jungles above. It didn’t take long for the child’s words to prove correct, for as they entered, the witch mirrored their movements and sought to flee with her captive.

 

---

 

It had gone a bit sideways. One of the Colborns had instantly sent a javelin into the witch’s captive - the very kin they were trying to save - in order to pierce the hag behind her. A plan to halt them, failed, for the steed the escapees fled upon continued forth through the forest.

 

“A trade then! Princess for the girl. Drop her and I shall meet you on the top of the mountain, on my word as an Arthalion.”

 

A repeat. An echo of a time past, a time when she herself had been just a girl, trading herself for a duo of youngers at the gates of her home, aiming to keep them safe, to keep from further bloodshed. The royal's form did not stutter this time, however. There was no hesitation. She knew the risks now. She'd been through this before; she would either succeed or fail and die.

 

It didn't scare her like it should. 

 

Perhaps that was the scariest part.

 

"A princess? Very well, Azruphêl. Halt your warriors and meet me at mountain's peak. If you do not stop, I'll be gone anyways." 

 

There were cries of protest, calls for another javelin. A knowing nod offered, a command made, a request forced. And then, a whisper was given to the youth on the back of her horse. A single whisper to the O'Rourke who had brought them there, who had given them this chance. A single whisper before she was sent on her way.

 

"Éinín, you tell my father what's happened. The moment you're back in the city, you have him reach the top of the mountain."
 

---

 

"The deal is not off, girl. I will trade you for her, just not now."

 

Fifteen saint's minutes. that was all it took for the witch to warp the princess and that stolen, dying Colborn away. Fifteen saint's minutes in which the royal had been forced to drop her weapons - all but a singular hidden dagger - and her horse, unable to talk her way into getting the captive released. Time had not on her side. The javelin slowly sought to kill the young Colborn and to risk a new fight would be to condemn the stolen girl. That party left behind had ridden up as promised. They had sought to intercept. A flash of her father was seen- but they were too late.

 

Fifteen saint's minutes was all it took to be portaled back to the place that had once haunted her nightmares for years on end, where this very same situation had once taken place.

 

She'd come out of it absolutely destroyed back then. It would end differently this time. It would.

 

---

 

"Heal her."

 

The witch had allowed her to save the Colborn, to wrench the javelin free, to perform surgery with what little tools she had. It wasn't enough to fix her, but it would give time; stabilized for the moment.

 

"Why risk yourself for her? A stranger?"

Why indeed? The royal had hidden a pause, a jolt of surprise. Why had she?  Maybe it was the lack of self worth she bore: for surely, this stranger held so much more promise that what she herself had thrown away with her mistakes. Everyone did. All but the evil ilk that walked the world, just beneath her. Maybe it was the values she'd been ingrained with as a small child by all around her; that she was a princess, that she needed to protect and guide her family's people, that she was there to serve just as much as command, to take responsibility for the small folk. To care. Maybe she just didn't care anymore, about much at all - that thrills like this was the only thing that made her stop and think these days.

 

She didn't know.

 

And so, like with all her answers, she offers solely an avoidant answer.

 

"I shall not answer any queries until you keep good on your word, as I have mine."

"I'm not going to harm her. And I will send her back. I want you to see what I've done."

 

She fought not to cringe back at the sight, though it certainly wasn't the worst thing she'd ever seen before. No, many things had topped it. And yet- the unnatural, undoubtedly painful looking scales peppering a set of claws and hooked fingers made her pause.

"... Well done. You've twisted her arm. And so?"

 

"I healed her! It covered her, head to toe. The gifts I give are far more... hidden."

 

She knew. Oh, how she knew. Gifts. What a wretched thought. They weren't gifts. Spending a year and then some, haunted by hellish visions, by whispers of that infernal language, all in her sleep, disallowing any proper rest, debilitating the waking world with exhaustion- no. that was no gift. The thought left a sour taste in her mouth.

 

"I've kept my word, girl. I told you I would send her, and I would. I simply wanted to show you that I'm not so cruel."

 

She'd read the Witch's prior missives. She'd known the woman's prior actions. It didn't add up. Then again, it never did when dealing with broken minds.

 

---

 

The Colborn had gotten sent through a new portal, straight to Númenost; stable, given a chance to survive, to live. The Númenedain would find her, heal her. The royal had faith in that. And then- there had been a clamor. A raiding party had found them. Her father. Her friends. Her home. There's a brief relief - until it becomes evident that they can't get to her.

 

"I won't gift you anything this time. Though perhaps it can be your turn to gift me. Why do I do as I do. If I told you, you would not believe me anyway. Why waste my breath? You have lived a life of wealth, love, unity. What I do... why I do it... even if I told you, you would never understand."

 

Oh how that witch was wrong. Wealth, love, unity. Those had not been without hardships - there had not been times in which she felt she had none. The calls of those above ripped her of such thoughts, however, returned her to recalling the Witch's prior misdeeds. She felt no hesitation. No remorse. She had a vow to uphold and a debt to repay.

 

There was a fight. A one on one. An eye was taken from the witch. A royal's hand was seared with malflame.

 

And then there was a rescue.

 

---

 

 

[!] Within the Kingswood is a single sheet of paper posted, upon the middle-most tree along the winding path towards Númenost:

 

To Cordelia, the Cawing Crow:

I greatly enjoyed our little chat.
You should practice not being a hypocrite though.

A shame it got interrupted.

Let's duel proper next time, my blade against your magic.

I owe you for the burnt hand.
I'll be sure to make good on my words, just as I always have.
I'll expect you to do the same.

 

P.S These woods still aren't yours. Get better at being evil, I guess.

 

 

[HugoAntero 1962]

"I'll skewer that hag with another bolt, ****!" Alaric, man of the Kingswood, cursed as he read the paper close to his camp.

[Demonica 678]

The Witch had long since returned to her forests, basking in the moonlight, dangling fruits over her maw with her feet, cackling to no one. The encounter had already faded from her mind, but she knew it wouldn't be long before another foolish knight came blundering in, eager to bring her down and unwittingly remind her, as so many had tried before.

[confusedjester 812]

Upon seeing Azruphel's return, did Einin run to hug her. The girl up to that point had believed she may had led the Royal to certain doom- for it was Einin who found the witch, and Einin who led the rally to her. The fight that had Azruphel traded for the Colborn. 

 

But Einin relaxed, knowing Azruphel was safe, and burst the O'Rourke did with pride, at being told she was a hero.  Einin, the Honorary Witch Hunter. She would hold that title dear to heart forever.

 

The girl however, was eventually overcome by the exhausting day. Thusly, she fell asleep, yet perturbed that eve by a nightmare. 

 

Einin prayed she would never encounter that witch again...

[Unwillingly 18097]

11 minutes ago, Demonica said:

dangling fruits over her maw with her feet,

whys this woman eating fruit with hjer toes says galahad

[Demonica 678]

3 minutes ago, Unwillingly said:

whys this woman eating fruit with hjer toes says galahad

im real asf next question said the witch to her rlly good friend & coconspirator galahad