Chapter 1
Elven Society
A little while ago, in a house not far from mine, a lady was sitting with her granddaughter in front of the fire.
“Grandma,” said the little girl, “Will you tell me a story before I go to bed?”
The old lady sighed, but said to the girl:
“Have I ever told you about Delorfinde and the elves? That’s a great story, that is.” The child looked interested.
“No, grandma,” she said, “You haven’t told me it, so can you tell me now?” Her grandma laughed.
“Oh, Millie. What would I do without you? You are a girl after my own heart. Who would think that you would say the very words I said to my grandma!” And just as she was about to begin, Millie’s grandma paused for a minute, as if remembering something. “Millie,” she said, “Some of this story may not make sense as it was originally a book so it had pictures and maps. I hope you don’t mind. When we come to it, I’ll show you the map. If I can find it, that is.” This made Millie laugh. Her grandma was the most organised person she knew. How could she not find something? The lady shifted in her chair to make her old bones comfortable, and then she began.
“Delorfinde and Zorinore had been best friends for as long as they could remember (which wasn’t very long). Their parents had met in the house where Delorfinde and Zorinore were born so the two girls had grown up knowing each other. Delorfinde’s mother had been born in the mountains but her father had been born in the woods so Delorfinde was a mountain-wood elf. Elf? yes, they were elves, but not the pixie like elves you’re probably thinking of but like the elves that J.R.R Tolkien described so well in his books ‘The Hobbit’ and ‘The Lord of the Rings’, tall and graceful and when at home or in the wild they were clad in silver cloaks with such fine needlework that it looked like they were wearing spider webs. They were fine creatures indeed, though they didn’t take kindly to strangers. I believe they were distantly related to Legolas’s kin but I never asked so I don’t know. As you would expect, they spoke a different language, none of the words are the same. In Delorfinde’s language ‘Greetings’ is ‘hilosh’, pronounced heel-osh
Zorinore’s hair was as blond as the sun. Her eyes were green, aas all elves eyes were. She was tall and thin, and somehow majestic. She had an equally beautiful sister named Zelcanva. Zelcanva was two years older than Zorinore and she was even more beautiful from the moment she was born. Her eyes were blue as well, bright and alert. Her hair was also blond, and it was sleek and wavy, when the sun caught it it was dazzling, and her skin was pale but tinged peach, especially on her cheeks. Zelcanva’s laugh was rich and her voice was like silk. It made one happy just to see her, young and happy, but not spoilt. The two of them lived in a large house, as they came from a rich family. Her father had been left a fortune by his parents who had left to seek adventure in the outside world. Their house was a mansion with pillars like tree trunks, though they were somehow elegant. It had five storeys and the maids slept in the attic. Of course the maids were treated well, though they were not elves but mortals. Oh, I forgot to tell you, Zorinore’s family were pure mountain elves but did not care for climbing! Zorinore and Zelcanva had a father, but they also had a step father who was extremely weird and was apparently very dangerous. Not a single soul would go near him. Zorinore felt a tiny bit sorry for him, shut up alone in his small cottage by the sea. He had wild hair that was long, as he never had it cut, and his beard was tangled and long. His wild eyes were dark, yet bright, his pupils were like dark pools that had seen days of horror. They held a strange kind of wisdom. No one would go further than the great big, black, spiky, iron gate that guarded his cottage. The cottage itself had a chimney pouring out black filth, polluting the air and sea around him, but he didn’t care. He threw all letters telling him to put the fire out onto the fire which would send up more smoke so no one sent him any anymore as it was no use. None, save himself, knew what his name was so they simply called him the Madman, or the Black Smoke Man. For that was what he was-a man. There were rumours that the smoke was something to do with him being a wizard, but it was not so and these were indeed only rumours spread by teenage elves. The only mystery to Zorinore and Zelcanva was the question of where their real father had gone. He was alive, they believed, but that he was lost. The real reason I will tell you later because there is no time to write a chapter’s worth of information and knowledge now.
Delorfinde had dark hair, thick and wavy. She had green eyes, and took after her mother more than her father. Her mother too had dark hair, like Delorfinde. Her father had black hair, which was unusual for an elf. Delorfinde was a little shorter than Zorinore but she made up for it by her politeness. Her manners were exceptional and her voice quiet. She was still only five but quick and intelligent. She lived in a spacious cottage up high in the mountains, surrounded by goats and cows and mountain peaks. They owned a small farm, chickens which they kept for the eggs. Delorfinde knew how to milk a cow or a goat, how to catch rabbits, how to make hay and how to climb trees. Zorinore and her sister learnt how to do embroidery, how to greet important visitors and how to make beds (etc.). They were taught uninteresting things like that so as to become good wives when older; the family was very traditional. Delorfinde had a lot more fun though she couldn’t play with Zorinore, who was stuck inside. The younger children, three years of age, adored five year old Delorfinde and always wanted her to play with them, so she did. These games were mainly: Hide and seek, tag, races, relays, tree climbing competitions. Occasionally they went down to the sea and had surfing lessons, but only occasionally. Mountain elves and other climbing elves, like wood elves, had the best choice of things to do, as they could play on mountains without having to put up with parents worrying about their safety. Delorfinde kept a diary (she taught herself to read and write) and this is one of the many entries in it.
Dear diary,
Today was great. I played with the little ones again. We played hide and seek and none of them could find me as I know loads of great places to hide in. I’ve taught them some but my favourites I keep to myself. I want to write a book when I’m older, I’ve decided, a book about me and my life. It’ll probably be really boring, though.
From Delorfinde.
Delorfinde kept a diary for a very long time. She always wrote it as if it were a letter, although she let no-one read it. It is still intact as far as I know.
The elves live on an island called Calinothed which is impossible to find on a map as it belongs to another world. In one corner, by the mountains, is one of the many elvish settlements. It was a rather dangerous island, as there were werewolves and vampires and many other terrible things. But there were also some fabulous creatures that dwell in the most unlikely places, like dragons that were friends of the elves and woodland brownies that sat around all day long eating mushrooms and leaves. One thing is passed down to all young elves:
“Keep away from them; They would sell you to treachery before you have a chance to scream.” When They were mentioned it meant the slave dealers who had nothing better to do in their lives than to terrify children. When the Others were mentioned it meant the vampires who would rather kill someone than sit down to a table to eat. You would think that the sight of blood would satisfy their thirst, but no, they drank it, savouring every drop. I’ve never been to the island, but Zorinore gave me a map when I promised to make her famous. It was surrounded by swirling blue waters. Here is a copy of the map.”
“But Grandma! I can’t see the map and neither can you! Do you have the book so that I can see it?” interrupted Millie. “It’s just like you said – some bits don’t make sense.”
“I’ll show you it later,” said her Grandma.
There is nothing one of the vampires wouldn’t do to do to get blood and this made the elves feel uncomfortable so they lived on the other side of the island, away from the blood stained cave. This was the vampires’ hideout though they often ventured out of it to hunt, as their prey, wanderers, were regularly caught near there, looking at the strange runes on the mouth of the cave. I put the map here for a reason, so you know the rough positions of the places I mention. It is a small map, though, and a little hard to read. I did try my best to improve it but it was too old and weather-worn to do so. Before I cleaned them off there were many fingerprints from those who rolled it up, unrolled it, fingered it, pointed out places and so on, so that it was difficult to read. Actually, the makers of it were quite clever, having covered the map with a form of plastic that came before plastic, it was of the ancient days. All that had to be done was for someone to peel this off and the map was as good as new. A small island it was, but dangerous, one who ventures there is walking into peril. Those who have grown up there were safer than those who were new to it, as they were used to it, though they were not entirely safe. Details such as ‘at 3.5 miles in from the western shore there is a...’ This would be too accurate, and giving a map is much easier, as it gives one something to look at when they want to look something later in the book, they can think “ah yes, now where was blah blah blah? It was, hum; let me see, of course! it was ...” It helps, also, to follow the journey of the two adventurous elves.”
“But Grandma, interrupted Millie, “ can you please miss out the picture describing picture bits etc. because it wastes time as we can’t see them so…”
“Millie,” replied her grandmother, “if I could I would. As it is I can’t because then I get lost…” Millie laughed.
The most common elvish settlement was the one in the seven mountains, but they did have a few hidden ones dotted round. As you know Delorfinde and Zorinore both lived in the seven mountains. This was good because it meant that on Zorinore’s ‘play days’ the two of them could see each other. It was odd that rich young elves were educated at such a young age, as elves live for ever unless killed by illness or by weapons. This made all elves feel better, but they avoided battle when possible. Zelcanva, she was clever at that age, made up a song about battle, though when translated it is not as pleasant as in her own language.
It eats away life like fire
It drives men to madness
It drives women to sadness
As the bodies are burnt on a pyre.
Swords flash in the sun,
Though in the sky it seems like night
Hope men have that return they might,
Is little more than none
This is but a part, and as I said it is not as fair as in the high tongue of the elves. In their tongue it is this:
Il shni lano mift alle lieto
Il mlikes lin me nilotes
Il milikes mylin me kilotes
mil al bodik lis like at o shilon
Detho blin on al lietil
Mrt on al abov il kilt alle kille
lij lin mig nit backth may sig
im shmal nore lik zera.
It is pages long, if I did all of it you would skip it I know. I bid you not to, please read it as it is not long. Sad it might be, it is true I fear. Of course I have never been in a battle but I have read many things about them and I don’t know why people wish to be in them, they sound horrible. If there is one thing that is horrible, it is the sight of lots of blood, death to those who try to save their country or world. You must agree; it is terrible.”
“Grandma,” said the little girl, ” That’s terrible. Who told you such a scary story anyway?” Grandma smiled.
“That story has been passed down in my family for many years -- I have it written down in a big book somewhere though I can tell most of it by memory. You’ll understand when you’re older,” she added, catching sight of the little girl’s puzzled face.
“It’s bedtime now, anyway. You need the sleep. I’ll tell you more tomorrow,” she promised.
Chapter 2
Undeserved Death
“Grandma,” said the girl, Millie, the next day, ”Can you tell me the next bit of the story?” her grandmother agreed, but then said;
“Are you sure? I’m warning you, it’s very sad. And scary.” Millie said that she did not mind, so her grandma began.
“The first of Delorfinde, Zorinore and Zelcanva’s adventures happened when the younger two were only five and Zelcanva was still only seven. It was a tragedy, a real one that neither Zorinore nor Delorfinde nor Zelcanva would ever forget. It involved Dalonset (a dangerous game), a river and Delorfinde’s parents. It is so terrible that if I tell it to you and then say it is only the beginning grown-ups won’t let you read this book, but I say you can if you can cope with things that are not too pleasant (e.g. death and capture and horrible stuff like that). It all began with a game.
Life is a valuable thing, and should not be thrown away. Two lives were thrown away because of Dalonset; two lives were thrown away that were needed elsewhere. Please do not think that this story is a sad, sad tale, for it is not, just in parts of it you may weep. I am not going to say that this story does not have a happy ending because it does, (I shouldn’t have told you!) well; at least it has a moderately happy ending.
Dalonset is a very dangerous game. A dalon is like a dare, but much more dangerous. It is basically a dare game, but children are forbidden to enter as it can killed many elves. You may wonder why it carried on, but the deaths were because people showed-off while doing the dalon, or because a fake dalon was received. There is a river on the island. It is called The River of Silent Doom. And do you know why it is called that? Because if you touched it you would begin to die a very long and painful death, and during that time of pain between life and death you would be unable to make any noise at all. It was responsible for all fifty of the elvish deaths that took place in that part of the island, though many more happened in other gruesome parts.
Della, Delorfinde’s mother, touched this black water as did Finel, Delorfinde’s father. They did this as their dare, though why I do not know. Actually, maybe I do know why. I was told after I wrote this book so I wrote it in pencil. If you do not do your dare then something happens to you, what it is I am not sure. They died, like many other elves and were given an appropriate funeral, the bier carrying them was borne by six of their good friends and it was laid to rest in the field where Della was born. Their grave was often covered in freshly picked flowers, bright colours like blue, red, orange and yellow, but there were also colours like white, dark purple, dark blue, very dark green and other colours like that from the mourners who took everything so seriously. I forgot to tell you how one would find out their dalon. In the morning post a black envelope comes and inside is your dalon, written in blood-red ink. But something suspicious happened to Della and Finel. Not only was their letter written in black and silver, but the very next day another letter came in a black envelope, written in blood-red ink: a dalon.
Delorfinde was left an unhappy orphan. For a while she lived with Zorinore and Zelcanva in their beautiful, big house at the foot of one of the largest mountain peaks, but then they had to go to boarding school, the ‘Academy for young ladies who wish to learn’ The girls did not particularly want to learn, but it was law that every child-elf over the age of 7 must go to school. Zelcanva, for some strange reason, started late, at the age of 9. When Delorfinde found out that she was an orphan she wept and through her tears said:
“Why did it have to happen? Oh, I should have stopped them!” For it had been Delorfinde who had persuaded her parents to join in Dares. She blamed herself entirely. But she shouldn’t have really, it wasn’t all her fault. After all, it wasn’t her who had decided on her mother and father’s dare, nor had she invented Dares in the first place. So who was to blame for this tragedy? Every single person on the island knew that they would be murdering Della and Finel to make them do that, so it couldn’t have been an islander unless it was the Others, though they did not know about Dares. It must have been a man -- an outsider, who else could be the murderer? Not Them, and not the Others, the men from Silem, the planet or another elf. This was almost impossible, so it remained a mystery... “
Millie stopped shaking and the colour returned to her face. The little girl had been very frightened but did not admit it although it was showing badly.
“But it’s obvious – it’s the men from Silem. Who else could it be?” Grandmother paused as though thinking and then said:
“I do not know. No one does.” This was not enough for Millie and she demanded to be told the next chapter but once again it was late and she went off to bed grumbling. However, she had a lot to think about and lay awake for almost an hour, thinking about who could be the murderer.
The next day she still hadn’t worked anything out and so when she arrived at school she was still locked deep inside her mind. Explaining to her friends wasn’t easy and when she finished they said that it was only a silly old story. But was it? She couldn’t tell – usually her grandmother’s stories were made up, yet this one, however bizarre, was different. Her grandma spoke it as if it was true but it was so unreal Millie didn’t dare to believe her. ‘Passed down through the family’ she had said. Could her grandmother be descended from elves. Millie thought not. But her grandmother was tall, and she did have pointy ears, and she was graceful. No, thought Millie to herself. Don’t be silly, elves aren’t real. Loads of people probably look like that. Millie always told herself off when she was being silly. She thought that it was one of those times, But didn’t stop thinking about possibilities all through play, and then she carried on daydreaming all through maths, which made her teacher angry. She didn’t care. Instead of thinking about protractors, she thought about elves, and instead of angles, she thought about her grandma.
“I know,” she said, not realising that she was speaking aloud and that the teacher thought she meant that she knew the answer to the question, “My grandma should write books and then I’d be rich, but she probably won’t want to. I suppose she could tell them to me and I could write them down, but that would be boring. I think I’ll get on with my work, though I’ve got only five minutes to answer ten questions, and I don’t have a protractor.” She stopped and thought.
“Miss,” she said, ”I don’t have a protractor or a ruler. Or a pencil for that matter. I think I’ve been daydreaming – it’s twenty-five past twelve. Have I been?” The teacher smiled.
“Indeed you had some wonderful ideas a minute ago. Did you know you were speaking aloud?” Millie blushed to the roots of her hair and muttered ‘no miss’ whilst taking things her teacher kindly offered her. She was just about to start when the bell went for end of lesson and she went off to lunch.
The rest of the day dragged by slowly but finally she could go home where another chapter of the story awaited her.
Chapter 3
The prison school
Millie ran gladly into her grandmother’s arms. She bolted down her tea so as to have a longer story, then ran to her chair by the fire. Her grandma sat right next to the warmth, a mug of cocoa in her hand.
“Shall I tell you what this chapter’s called?” she asked Millie. Millie nodded and her grandma said:
“The prison school, that’s what. Not very nice, eh?” The little girl shook her head.
“Why is it called that?” To which the answer was:
“Wait and see.”
The girls were sent away to boarding School when they were seven. In theory. Zelcanva didn’t start until she was nine, but that was because there was no room for her. There was only one school for girls on Calinothed. Of course, there was a day school and a boarding school for boys, but the girls didn’t get much choice. The school was called ‘The Academy for Young Ladies who wish to Learn’. Zorinore, Delorfinde and Zelcanva did not particulary wish to learn, but they had to. It was the law.
The school looked quite nice on the outside. It was a large, high, white building with roses snaking up the front of the house. There was a lawn as well, at the back, but it was seldom used. The inside of the school was a different story altogether. None of the parents knew about this as visitors were strongly discouraged. The entrance hall was dull grey in colour, and the walls were bare. A large staircase took up about half of the room, but there was a corridor going down the other side. The girls were not allowed to use the big staircase – it was for teachers only. Pupils used the narrower, creakier staircase at the back. The carpet was black, and the doors were all a dirty brown. Had you opened one of the doors on the left of the hallway, you would have found a hall; it was generally used for assemblies but if one of the girls had been extremely naughty there would be a public punishment. The dormitories themselves were dull and crowded.
Each dormitory had twelve iron beds with hard mattresses. On each bed there was a thin, scratchy, blanket. A couple of them looked as if they had been vomited on. Next to each bed there was a small, metal cupboard. Inside were some clothes. They were:
• Two plain, black dresses, just below the knee in length
• A pair of black shoes
• Several pairs of stockings (scratchy)
• A black satchel-type bag
What the girls didn’t know was that not everyone had black clothes. They were graded. Pupils started from black, and eventually reached white. There was also an envelope, from the headmistress, with their names on.
Dear New Pupil,
I trust you will find your time here at the Academy most useful. You will need the following books – they should be in the bag in your locker.
1. My First Guide to Writing
2. A reading book of your own choice (provide your own)
3. Several exercise books
4. Maths for Beginners
5. Science for Beginners
6. The book of The Arts.
You will also need:
1. Two, plain pencils
2. A dip pen
3. Three pots of black or blue ink
4. Spare pen nibs
5. Uniform
Time Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday
8:00 Assembly Assembly Assembly Assembly Assembly Assembly
9:00 Writing Mathematics Science The Arts Writing Presentation
10:00 Mathematics Science The Arts Writing Mathematics Free Period
11:00 P:E P:E P:E P:E P:E Reading
12:00 Break Break Break Break Break Break
12:15 Lunch Lunch Lunch Lunch Lunch Lunch
1:00 Register Register Register Register Register Register
1:10 Science Writing Mathematics Mathematics Science afternoon
2:10 The Arts The Arts Writing Science The Arts off
3:10 Assembly Assembly Assembly Assembly Assembly -----------
These accessories are all provided for you. Timetable (above).
There will also be an Embroidery Class at 7:00 after Dinner on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Girls are expected to attend. There will be punishments for those who do not attend lessons, or for those who do not work to the best of their ability.
Yours Sincerely,
Miss G Lennard – Headmistress
The girls read the letter, hearts sinking further and further down towards their feet with every sentence. What a gloomy place! Then a horrible thought struck them. They were there for nine years. No going home. No holidays. Well, they would have holidays but they would be spent at the school, as the rules said.
Delorfinde, Zorinore and Zelcanva were, of course, in the bottom grade (black). This was a little embarrassing for Zelcanva, being a nine-year-old, as she was with the seven-year-olds. However, they were clever children so they all moved up quickly. When they were in the third grade (slate grey), they made friends with a young girl about their age whose name was Amälae. She had black hair that fell past her waist and her thin face was a constant picture of sadness, although Zelcanva, Zorinore and Delorfinde did their very best to cheer her up.
The food was one of the worst things about the school. Dry bread, overcooked vegetables and some thin soup; that was all they got three times a day, every day. On Sundays it was a little better though. They got cold potatoes on top of everything else, and some dried fruits.
Lessons seemed to Delorfinde to be the boring-est things she had ever experienced. Assembly was just as bad: they stood straight and still in rows while the head mistress droned on and on and on. Zorinore’s favourite lesson was the same as Delorfinde’s and Zelcanva’s: The Arts. Although it was taught in the same unchanging way as the rest of their lessons, it was a more interesting subject. The girls were instructed to keep a log of all their lessons, which was to be handed in at the end of the week.
13th September, Thursday
Zorinore Catrion Elvenheart
Today: First lesson.
After assembly today we had The Arts – a lesson we all enjoy. The Arts are ancient and noble – they enable us to do things far beyond human power. There is only one word to describe them – magic. Today we learnt one main thing which was called Literal glow. It is the art of lighting up the area around you. Apparently professionals can light up a whole room, or just a metre². I wish I could, but all I can do is light up a space the size of my bed, although it goes out after a while! Then the lesson ended and we were told that we had to practise the charm (‘glowen spacéd’’) and be able to do the spell perfectly by next Thursday! I really don’t know how I’m going to fit that in…
Zorinore and Delorfinde saw little of Zelcanva. Being older, she spent most of her time in the study room because she had to take an exam. All pupils took exams when they were nine, eleven, thirteen, fifteen and just before they left – sixteen. Some students stayed on until they were eighteen but this was rare. It was usually because they had no home to go to. These poor people did not have to study, but they had to read one text book every week to make sure they did not forget anything.
The dormitories were awful. There were twelve girls in one room, with only a small wooden locker to put all their belongings in. Iron bed-frames filled the room. The only thing the girls had to lie on was a hard, filthy mattress on top of these dreary bed-frames, with only an old blanket to keep them warm. This, they realised for the second time, was not what they had been expecting. At home no-one had said anything about this. And yet, many of the girls seemed almost pleased to be there. Maybe home for them was not what they liked. Everyone in their room was new, apart from three girls in the corner. They were in third year and they were jolly mean. To everyone.
The lessons in themselves were dull. Hard benches in rows were arranged in each classroom, and the teachers spoke in the same monotonous drone each day. However, they did not have to put up with much misbehaviour as most of the girls behaved like sheep: never disobeying the slightest rule because they were scared of what might happen to them. Only one girl ever tried to run away. And that one girl was Zelcanva.
The girls had only been there for six months or so. Zelcanva had protected them, shielding them from the harmful words of their dorm-mates, stopping arguments before they came to blows. But one night, at full moon, when Zorinore had gone to the school nurse for some monthly medicine she had to have, Zelcanva slipped out of bed. Only Delorfinde saw her. Puzzled, she watched as Zelcanva pulled on her travelling cloak and crept out of the dormitory. She seemed to be holding a bag of some sort. Regretfully, she glanced once at her sister’s bed, then turned away and left like a shadow.
The next morning, the alarm was raised.
“Girl missing! Girl missing!” Zorinore, not having been present, did not find out until first lesson. She was appalled.
“She could have taken me!” she said. But Delorfinde did not think it would have been a good idea. If more than one of them had gone they were bound to get caught. And that would not have been good. In fact, it would have been worse. But after that, they had no protection, no comfort. Little Amälae often visited them until she got caught creeping into their dormitory in the middle of the night.
All of their room-mates turned against them, and they had no heart to resist. It was all just a living nightmare. However, Zorinore and Delorfinde found a clue. But to what? They didn’t know. One of the teachers hated elves. They all walk as if they were on stilts or something; they wobbled so much! What could be wrong? Or rather, what could be right? Just before they went to bed that night Delorfinde glanced at Zorinore. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t think what. And then she realised. Zorinore’s eyes were blue. No longer a full elf, she was turning away from magic, turning to science and the real world. Science is taking the magic out of everything, thought Delorfinde gloomily.
Millie sat silent. Then without a word she turned and went up to bed, with no cheerful ‘good-night’ for her grandmother.
Chapter 4
A secret revealed
Millie was waiting for her grandma for a long time that night. She’d gone into her grandma’s room and found her looking in a great big book whilst muttering something. Millie supposed this was to do with the story and so went into the kitchen where the fire was burning merrily in the grate. Sitting down, she stared at the fire until the dancing flames looked like pictures, till her eyes could not hold the heat anymore. She did not notice her grandmother come in until she said softly:
“Millie. Come away from the fire. I am ready now.” Millie looked up. Her Grandmother began.
“Finally a time came when they were old enough to leave school, though Amaläe was younger than them and so could not, so they went and looked in the surrounding area to see if they could find Zelcanva. They went as far as the woods in which Delorfinde’s mother had been born but it made Delorfinde upset so they had to turn back.
A few years later when they were twenty they were officially appointed by the council to find Zelcanva, being her closest friends. She’d been gone for thirteen years now and people were getting worried. At Zorinore’s house they packed a bag each of food and water enough for a year-and-a-half (elves do not eat much, only a small amount now and then). Then some clothes, one spare change, an axe for chopping firewood (a small one of course), a sleeping bag (this they held separately), a wooden comb and a small, decorated hand mirror. They also took some more water as a spare. These bags were heavy, but as Delorfinde said:
“They may be heavy but we’ll sure wish them heavier when we run out of food.” To this Zorinore replied:
“I hope we aren’t away that long! If we are, surely there are berries we can eat, or something.” Zorinore was right, but Delorfinde did not want to admit it.
“It might not be the right season or they might be poisonous,” she argued. But Zorinore had an answer.
“Zelcanva and I used to go berry hunting so I know which are poisonous from experience.” Even so, they took along a berry guide just in case.
Whether they would return or not, they did not know.
They were trudging slowly up the mountain, or rather Delorfinde was springing up lightly but Zorinore was trudging, when Delorfinde stopped rather abruptly.
“Listen,” she said,” We are in dangerous territory now and whatever happens we must be out of here by nightfall, or we’ll wish we were never born.” Above them Moonwood loomed, smothering them in its shadow.
“Why?” asked Zorinore. There was a strange light in her eyes that Delorfinde did not like so she remained silent, with a look of grim determination on her face. Scrambling through thorns, jumping over ditches, the two elves felt wild, wilder than wild, wilder than anything. Night fell and they were still in the territory Delorfinde called dangerous. The sun was gone and the moon hanging full in the sky. But maybe it would have been better if they didn’t have it. It is quite obvious what happens at full moon, but this was beyond Delorfinde’s wildest dreams. At full moon, for those of you who don’t know, werewolves come out. A werewolf is someone who at full moon becomes a wolf, an extremely vicious one. If someone happened to get bitten by one they would become a werewolf and so on. As I said it was full moon that night and unfortunately they were right under the shadow of Moonwood.
“Uh oh,” said Delorfinde and then she turned to Zorinore. “Moonwood is a place that is mainly used by werewolves as a hideout. Their number is steadily growing. It is said that they have taken to stealing babies from cradles, but the small ones they apparently give to their friends the vampires. If anybody goes missing the blame is laid on either the werewolves or the vampires.” There it was again – the strange light in Zorinore eyes. In a split-second it was gone, to be replaced by sadness.
“That’s not fair, is it?” she asked, then stopped herself.
“Of course it’s fair, they’re the people who did it so the blame’s on the right person. Get it now?” Zorinore shook her head. “Look, werewolves are evil.”
“What?” gasped Zorinore. She was as pale as a sheet which would have made her lips look bright red if it wasn’t for the fact that they too had had the colour drained from them. “So, do people hunt them?” She sounded worried and when Delorfinde nodded she went even paler, if that were possible.
“There’s nothing we can do,” said Delorfinde, trying to hide her disappointment, “We can’t turn back for that would be admitting defeat, and we can’t go on until the morning so we’ll have to stay here.” To Delorfinde’s great astonishment the light appeared for a third time in Zorinore’s eyes. The colour was finally back into her face, but Delorfinde somehow thought that was weird, somehow backwards. After all, she thought, she should be glad that people hunt werewolves, but she isn’t. She shouldn’t be happy that we’re by Moonwood, but she is. I think she’s being more suspicious than the teachers were. Her thoughts were interrupted by Zorinore.
“Shall I set up camp?” Delorfinde nodded, she was too confused to protest now. Zorinore went off and busied herself finding shelter and dry wood for a fire. It had been raining in that area lately so this wasn’t easy but finally she found a whole load of wood, as there was an uprooted tree nearby. Delorfinde set herself the task of chopping the wood while Zorinore went off to find out if there was anywhere they could wash in. A little away along, near the edge of the forest, was a narrow, deep stream. While the fire was at its hottest they put a tub of the stream water over it to heat up. When this was done they each had a refreshing wash, and then they cooked some of the fish that they had caught in the stream. Or rather, Delorfinde did. She didn’t realise that Zorinore had sneaked away. For Zorinore had a secret. Not only was her Step dad strange, he was a werewolf and a murderer to add on top. As it happens, these sorts of things get passed onto youngest step daughters. Of course, it doesn’t work with real daughters, only step daughters. So, at odd intervals each year, which were becoming more and more frequent Zorinore became the most vicious of all werewolves. Then the worst thing that could have possibly happen happened. Zorinore came back and then – she transformed.
She began to shake. Her face grew hairy and her nose turned into a snout. Her teeth grew longer and her bright blue eyes turned blood red. Her body changed and she became a full werewolf.
Delorfinde was rooted to the spot. She thought that this would happen every month, or that Zorinore would refuse to leave Moonwood. To be honest – she was petrified. Who wouldn’t be if there were werewolves closing in all around? Somehow Zorinore had summoned them all. More than 50 stood in a circle around Delorfinde so that she could not escape. And she knew what they planned to do. They wanted her to be one of them. They wanted to take her with them to the heart of the forest. But they didn’t pounce. Zorinore was signalling frantically to them but one, a large grey wolf, signalled something back that made her stop. The grey wolf stepped forward. He began speaking in a strange language that made Delorfinde fell dizzy, until finally she fell into a deep, deep sleep.
When Delorfinde woke up she felt tingly, and her head felt heavy as if some extra knowledge had been stored in it, which, she thought, it probably had. Zorinore was there, back to her normal self. It made Delorfinde feel that it had all been a dream, that she was just imagining seeing Zorinore’s eyes turn from red back to blue. Then she saw the paw prints...
Dear Diary,
Last night was the scariest night I’ve ever experienced. Who would have thought that Zorinore was a werewolf? Certainly not me. But the worst thing was when she looked at me. I saw her eyes. They were blood red, with a thin, slit-like pupil. And the hatred I saw in them was enough to freak me out of my wits for a long time. Why would Zorinore hate me? She’s been my best friend since we were toddlers. She can’t turn against me like that! Or can she… And I saw her eyes this morning, too. They were blue again, thankfully, and the pupils were round. The hatred was gone and replaced with… well, I don’t know actually but it seemed like guilt and sadness to me. I had no idea whether she actually remembered anything about the night, but I think she knows. Or does she… I don’t know but it’s time I had breakfast.
Delorfinde.
They were walking along the overgrown path outside a tumbledown village to stretch their legs the next morning. The two of them walked along in silence and Zorinore looked away every time Delorfinde met her eyes. It seemed that she didn’t want to talk about the night before. Noon arrived and the sun was at its very hottest, it scorched the backs of their necks.
“I wish I’d thought to bring a map,” said Delorfinde glumly. The spell of silence was broken. It was then that they realised that they were ravenously hungry. Zorinore said:
“We haven’t eaten since last night and that was nearly a day ago. The longest I’ve ever been without food is four hours. I suppose you’ve got a clever answer to that have you, know it all?” She was obviously in a bad mood but Delorfinde calmly answered her. She knew that Zorinore ate more than most elves; three days was a long time for Zorinore to go without food.
“Yes, I do. When we get to the mountains we might only eat once every day or two, or if we’re really unlucky, three days.” So they sat down to eat. They certainly had brought enough provisions - the feast they had was fit for a king. After they had eaten Zorinore spoke to Delorfinde.
“About last night -- well it doesn’t happen every month, though it might start doing so soon. It happens every now and again.” She told her how it was inherited, and how she was sorry.
“So, it won’t happen next month?” Zorinore shook her head.
“I’ll tell you how I feel,” she said. “I feel somewhat evil. I am filled with a sudden desire to hurt someone, to hurt you.” From that moment onwards Delorfinde knew she wasn’t safe, not even from her best friend. In fact, she felt like running, but as usual it was her never ending loyalty that held her back from doing so. And deep in the back of her mind was fear, fear that Zorinore would become untamed, more than she already was. Yet somehow there was a power she felt she had, she felt ready for anyone, werewolf or not. It was a feeling that she’d never had before.”
“I didn’t expect that to happen,” said Millie. “You should have warned me.”
“I did,” said her Grandmother, laughing. She knew that it was quite scary for a child of Millie’s age but she felt that now she had started the story she couldn’t really stop.
Chapter 5
Parting from safety
This time Millie didn’t stop to talk. She wanted the story to go on for as long as possible and so didn’t want to waste any time. It began
“Every time Delorfinde tried to talk to her friend about leaving she turned away and pretended not to hear.
“Zorinore, when are you planning for us to set off? I think it should be sooner rather than later. Sunrise would be a good time, we’d get many miles done that way—over 24. And of course if we ran or walked faster we would get a lot more done. I’m not sure how many but quite a lot. But then again we don’t know where we’re going so that would take longer. If we split, which I don’t really want to do, that would be quicker and it would be no time at all before we manage to find that naughty old sister of yours, so we could go home to rest in peace,” said Delorfinde, trying to make Zorinore see sense. She did not at all want to split but Zorinore saw differently.
“OK,” she said, “Bags I go South. It looks easier.” At this Delorfinde laughed, for the first time since she didn’t know when, at her cunningness, saying things before anyone else had a chance.
That night was their last night at Moonwood. It was also a night of many partings.
“Parting is such sweet sorrow,” quoted Zorinore.
“More of the sorrow bit actually,” came the glum reply from Delorfinde.
“Can’t you tell what is poetry yet?” snapped Zorinore crossly. ”I didn’t make it up, did I?” To this Delorfinde had no answer, except one.
“Actually, I thought you did.” After this the two of them were silent for little while, until Zorinore spoke.
“You know, I take that as a compliment. You think I’m good enough to make something like that up and I’m happy, dude. It is a compliment, you know, and a nice one too. Usually I don’t get any compliments; I get Oi, ugly giant, get out the way.”
“Ahh,” said Delorfinde sarcastically, “All of you, let’s have a big ahh for Zorinore. Is there a violin round here anywhere? Get it out, let’s have a funeral march. Poor old Zorinore. Anyway, you’re not ugly. Anyway. Laa dee daa dee daa, I’m so touched.” She only stopped when Zorinore gave the iciest of all glances. Obviously Zorinore was not in the mood.
So they set off on their journey, though Zorinore went with a slight bit of ‘Do I have to?’ in her accent. Delorfinde was scratched and torn by the time she had covered 100 metres and her back was bleeding. Her bag was torn, the food spilling out like nobody’s business. There was nothing she could do about it so she had to turn her bag round and lump it. Zorinore had a rather easier time, although there were lots of hills there were not as many thorn bushes like there were north, where Delorfinde was. A little while later a cart drew up, she was clunked on the head and she knew no more, apart from the fact that she was lifted up and put into what must have been the back of the cart.
Delorfinde was trying to free herself from a thorn bush that was determined to hold her back as much as possible, but Delorfinde wasn’t going to give up that easily although She felt weak and under the bush’s control. Luckily she had her penknife with her so she flicked it open and slashed at the largest branches. When she had achieved this she slid under the remaining twigs. A large, sharp thorn dug into her already bleeding back. Ignoring this she hacked at the roots so that the bush fell over and bothered her no longer. As it was the only bush for a while she could walk freely for a long while, over a mile was covered by the time she came to the large hill she had seen in the distance. She was attempting to climb this when a strange vision came to her. There was a girl that was lying down. Her face was pale and there was a knife against her throat. A hand reached over to slit her throat and Delorfinde heard her own voice crying out for the killer to stop. The vision passed and Delorfinde was herself again. From the top of the hill came the sound of wheels coming slowly along the bumpy path, and the soft padding footsteps of a dog. A dog that Delorfinde recognised…
She quickly ducked behind a large rose bush, the only one Delorfinde had seen for many miles, but it was too late. She had been smelt out by the Others. A strong hand reached down as the sound of hooves passed the bush and Delorfinde found herself inside a dirty wooden cart. On the floor was a girl, the girl in the vision. And Delorfinde knew who she was, though she didn’t like the answer.
“Zorinore!” The knife was there too, and she knew what that was for as well. Zorinore stirred
“Delorfinde, is that you? Stop her. She will kill me - then you,” she said weakly. Before Delorfinde could stop to ask questions a voice spoke rather unpleasantly from behind her.
“Hello, wolf friend.” Delorfinde ignored her title and stood calmly, waiting for the insulter to carry on. “I see you recognise the lowflefmoundey. Well, I’m afraid she’s not going to live much longer – you won’t be able to save her. Why you would I don’t know, didn’t you know she’s going to kill you? Anyway, even if you hadn’t had the courtesy to pop in she’s too weak to fight back.” When the voice changed into the elvish tongue it meant to say: wolf elf of the mountains. A hand reached for the knife. Delorfinde couldn’t stop herself. She grabbed the knife and thrust it into the attacker’s heart, whom she knew to be Shem. She had killed her arch enemy. Or so she thought….
Shem had been a vampire. In fact, technically she still was a vampire as Delorfinde had forgotten one vital piece of information. A vampire can only be killed by a thrust through the heart with a sword rubbed with fresh garlic. Shem had not been the best looking of vampires. Her face had been white and her lips blood red, her eyes golden and her teeth, well, fangs, were yellowed and dripping with blood. And above all, there was the mark, drawn in her own blood, on her forehead. A symbol – a black circle with a fang inside, crossed with a sword. All the vampires had this symbol, although it was painful, and it was done by cutting the forehead and burning the flesh. Delorfinde threw Shem out of the cart, and set to work cleaning out the inside of the cart. It was drawn by two strong horses and so if they used the cart they would not need to walk. That was a great thought for Delorfinde, and she doubled her efforts. Before they could go anywhere Delorfinde knew that her friend needed food. She was too weak to move and her lips were too cracked to speak properly. Delorfinde looked around the cart, until her eyes rested on Zorinore’s bag. Most of the food was still in there, and the water bottle that was decorated with beads was still intact, but the meat was gone. Shem had ransacked it of anything worth anything to her, but on the floor beside Shem, where it must have fallen out of her pocket, were the clothes that Zorinore had packed as a spare and the comb that Delorfinde had made. Delorfinde helped Zorinore to eat and drink and then they set off in the cart (until the wheels snapped in two because they were rotten wood).”
“Millie,” said her grandmother,” Were you scared?”
“Only a bit,” said Millie, embarrassed. She had liked the story quite a lot though thought it was slightly strange. Before her grandma had time to say goodnight she had whizzed up the stairs and was in bed because she now had a new terror: vampires.
Chapter 6
Opened doors
Millie’s Grandmother started straight away.
“Since the danger had fallen when they were alone, the two girls stayed together all the time. Still heading off towards the one place that Zelcanva could be, Delorfinde and Zorinore walked day and night. Eating little and drinking only when they were near a place where they could replenish their water stores, the two of them soon became weak and ill. At first they tried to carry on, but there was nothing they could do to stop themselves fainting every couple of hours. Suddenly, when they were just about giving up, they saw a tall gate. Not an ordinary, iron gate, but a gate made of shining wood. This was such a relief that they did not think that it might be locked. Delorfinde tried the handle, but to her bitter disappointment, it would not open. So they had to carry on. Soon they came to a massive, black, spiky, iron gate. Next to it was a sign. It read : ENTER IF YOU DARE , written in something that look horribly like blood. Still, it was worth the risk.
Zorinore was about to ring the bell when a postman went by.
“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you, miss,” he said, “No one who went in ever came out alive.” Zorinore was all for turning back after that, but Delorfinde insisted. She even rang the bell herself as Zorinore was trembling too much to be of any use.
Suddenly there was a crash as if someone in a rage had flung open a door the size of a house. A man came into view. His wild, tangled hair flew out behind him as he stormed down the path. Behind him, filthy black smoke was being belched into the air by the chimney of the cottage. If you could call it a cottage, that is. For it was humongous, and that was probably because it had to be, with him living in it. He did not look at all pleased to see the girls. But what was scariest about him were his black eyes.
Those black eyes were deep and full of wisdom and horror, his bushy eyebrows nearly obscuring them. Zorinore gasped.
“Come in,” he said, gruffly. Terrified, they went in. “Now,” he said when they were seated round a rough wooden table, “What do you want?”
Delorfinde spoke. “My name is Delorfinde, and this is my companion, Zorinore—“.
“Zorinore, did you say?” he interrupted, with a small gasp, “I thought I recognised you. Well if that’s the case, I shall take you both immediately to the hermit.” The girls exchanged a few curious glances.” You can tell me everything then.
“What do you mean? Do you know Zorinore?” asked Delorfinde, puzzled. The man smiled.
“I am her supposedly mad step-father,” he replied, enjoying the effect it had on the shocked girls.
When the girls were rested, Zorinore’s step-father asked them to fetch their travelling things. When they had done as he’d asked, he looked at the size of their bags and then said:
“Hang on a moment.” When he returned he was carrying some things. These he put into two smart, new, strong backpacks. When this was done, the girls had the following kit each:
Food for a year (remember that elves don’t eat much)
A tightly rolled up blanket
Strong water bottles, full
A comb and a decorated hand mirror
Lots of berries
Bread in an airtight container
Some spare clothes
A tiny axe
A penknife
The girls were extremely grateful for these things, though the bags were heavy. There was also a map of places to find water. Then they set off.
When they arrived at the shining wood gate that they had passed on the way, the girls did not hold much hope of getting in. However, Zorinore’s step-father knocked loudly and the door was opened by a scared looking man dressed in leaves. He let out an almost silent whimper when he saw them.
“I am asking you to look after these two, Zorinore, my step-daughter, and her friend, Delorfinde. I will be back tomorrow with money to pay you.” So saying this, he turned on his heel and was gone.
The hermit led the girls inside and sat them down at a beautifully carved wooden table. Then he left them. When he came back he was carrying a great, big, old book. He gave it to the girls. In a quiet voice he said:
“Read this when you are alone. It will interest both of you.” But the girls did not open the book for several days, not till after Zorinore’s step-father had been and gone.”
Millie’s grandmother stopped abruptly, looking at Millie in a strange way.
“Millie?” she said cautiously, “Are you all right? You’re looking very thoughtful.” Millie shook herself and looked up.
“Grandma,” she said quietly, “there’s something I want to ask you.”
“Fire away,” was the reply.
“You see, when you first told me the story you told me that it had been passed down in your family for a long time. I thought about this and I wondered how the first people knew it. But then I wondered if anyone in your family had been there.” Millie’s grandmother smiled and looked thoughtful.
“I think it is time you knew the truth.”
“You see, my great, great, great, great, great grandfather was the father of both Zorinore and Zelcanva.” Millie gasped.
“But that means that you’re related to Zorinore, Zelcanva, the black-smoke man, and so am I.”
“Ah, but don’t forget that I am talking about Zorinore and Zelcanva’s real father, not their step-father.” Millie stared.
“What did happen to him?” asked Millie, intrigued but nervous to know the truth.
Chapter 7
The truth is told
“Delorfinde and Zorinore finally found time to look at the book. The rest of the time they had been too busy wondering what Zorinore’s step-father had meant when he said that he’d explain everything when they got there. But Delorfinde suggested they looked in the book, so they did. It seemed to be some sort of diary, though it looked rushed and the handwriting was old fashioned.
Today we set off. We had not got much time. If we were to rid this world of Vampires then we had to act quickly. My unit were the first to go into the caves. I was worried as my wife and my two young children are at home, and I do not want to never return. When we entered the gigantic cave the first thing we noticed was the silence. Apart from the crackling as we trod on the many bones that littered the floor and the sound of our own fearful breathing, there was no noise at all. This bewildered us, but the sergeant said: “They are probably lurking in the shadows. Go quietly.” As if we wouldn’t. Honestly, we were quaking with fear. But after a while we realised that the whole place was deserted. We could have laughed out loud for sheer relief when we realised that we were safe. But what did it all mean? Where were the Vampires? So we had to go off hunting in the wild. And that was a terrible experience, I can tell you. Where should we start?
There ends the first extract that they found. At the very bottom was a small signature: Pelinor Zelion Elvenheart. The girls squinted to read it.
“Pelinor.... Zelion.... Elvenheart,” read Delorfinde with difficulty. “Who on earth is that?” And then she noticed with dawning comprehension that Zorinore was as white as a sheet. “Your?.....father?” Zorinore nodded.
“Yes. I am Zorinore Catrion Elvenheart,” she revealed.
Far, far away, a girl was dragged into a tiny cell. She had heavy chains round her neck, arms and legs. Her blond hair was hanging damply past her waist.
Looking at her, you’d think she had been captive for years, but her thinness was to do with having lived in the wild. She had been found and captured. This was partly due to the fact that she had escaped from her terrible boarding school, and partly due to the fact that someone in the area had it in for elves. She was Zelcanva Sadéle Elvenheart, daughter of Pelinor Zadion Elvenheart – Vampire hunter for the queen.
Delorfinde stood motionless for a moment. Slowly she recovered and shook her head. Quietly, so quietly that Zorinore could barely make out the words, she said,
“No, no it’s not possible. Not another one. No.” But before Zorinore could question her words she shouted, half chanted, in a petrified voice that was the same yet completely different as Delorfinde’s own
“Zorinore!!!!!!!!!!!!! You are the Betrayer. You steal my heart, my life, my soul. You leave me to die.” It was such a strange thing to say that Zorinore thought that Delorfinde must be having a fit. Yet Delorfinde’s eyes had a new kind of fear to them, and she knew what it meant...
Her throat was parched and her stomach empty. Lying on the hard, damp ground with nothing to keep her warm and nothing to rest her head on, her thin, fragile body was slowly weakening. Every time she moved she was in agony, and the scratchy grey dress she was supposed to wear just made it worse. Zelcanva lifted her head and brushed her dirty hair out of her eyes. She had escaped from places as bad as a prison before, but this time things weren’t looking too hopeful. The only source of light was a tiny barred window set high in the grey walls. The door was made of wood with iron bars down it, and it was about seven inches thick. It was a grim place, with rows and rows of cells filling up the enormous, dark building. From down the corridor she had been dragged along the previous night, Zelcanva could hear heavy footsteps approaching. Wearily she laid her head down again and hoped the men had not come for her. She looked at the tag they had put on her when she was first brought in and realised it had some sort of number – no, a code - on it.
SSWEZ
She hadn’t got a clue what it meant, but it was somehow familiar…
Zorinore turned as if shocked by a sudden force. Delorfinde looked at her in a concerned way. Zorinore’s eyes were strangely unfocused and she had the look of one who could not control herself. Backing off in terror, Delorfinde broke the eye contact. She was about to run when the same force that given Zorinore power picked her up and threw her across to Delorfinde. As a result, or maybe it just happened, Zorinore regained control of her mind and looked up, bewildered, at Delorfinde. Shakily Delorfinde helped her up and embraced her; glad to have her friend back from wherever her mind had been. Yet still Delorfinde thought she could sense an image pasted in Zorinore’s mind, an image that Delorfinde had seen herself.
“Zorinore! Zorinore – are you all right? Answer me, please!” Frantically she called to Zorinore, begging her to be safe and sound.
“What?” questioned a weak voice. “What are you talking about?” Delorfinde looked down. It was Zorinore. Obviously she did not recall her ordeal, which in a in a strange way pleased Delorfinde as it meant that Zorinore had not felt any pain. But in another way it meant that Delorfinde could not find out who the other mind belonged to. She soon gave up trying to fathom out unanswerable questions so instead she returned to help Zorinore.
Zelcanva screamed. She’d been here before. Whether in waking or in dreams she did not know but one thing was clear. They knew about Zorinore. The wrist-tag was proof enough. SSWEZ. Sister of Suspected Werewolf… Elf – Zelcanva. It was all obvious. The door opened – the guards had heard her scream. One of them muttered to the other, who promptly injected her somehow with a drug. She fell back, helpless. As it took hold her thoughts blurred together until only one was clear. They know – How do they know – They know – How do they know…. Soon that too blurred and she sank to the floor, unconscious.
In her dreams she could see a valley. It was filled with flames. Then a girl’s voice and then silence. She could see nothing.
i am 11 years old do you like this????? its quite long.....
