Whispering Gold
Mar. 12th, 2016 12:52 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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b2memB2MeM Challenge: 2012 Bungo Baggins' BINGO Bash. Card: Beasts, B7
Format: Ficlet
Genre: Horror lite
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Characters: Watcher in the Water
Pairings: None
Summary: In the depths of a cold northern lake, an eldritch horror awakens.
From across the tenebrous lake, made darker still as the dreadful Sky-Fire sank behind the western hills, the disturbances came. They skittered upon her flesh and awoke her from the dreams sent by her mother, who lay sleeping in her silent palace, far, far away in a chasm deep under the sea.
She unfurled herself and stretched. The many thick strands of her arms reached through the mouth of the cave to grasp the rock outside, the powerful suckers finding purchase on the slick surface. She pulled herself forward, flattened her head, and squeezed through the gap between the stones. Her body lengthened to slip through the narrow space, followed by her legs, so thin and tiny as to be almost useless, a vestige of a life long forgotten, until the whole of her floated in the open water.
She smelled and tasted the vibrations that rippled through the lake. No, these were not the shimmerings of Silverscales slicing through the water. That was no surprise, for over the years, she had eaten most of them. Nor were they the sound of the noisy Featherfolk that sometimes landed on the surface of the lake, much to their peril. Hard-pressed to find Silverscales for her sustenance these days, she drank the Featherfolk’s warm blood and crunched their bones with her broad beak. Now, she was ravenous. It had been many days since she had last dined.
The vibrations became muffled. Whatever had disturbed the water of the noisome creek at the northern edge of the lake no longer trod there, but instead had moved onto the land. She sniffed again and caught the faint aroma of hot blood in the water, much like that of the Stunted Folk who carved the stone beneath the mountains, where they stamped about on two legs and sported bristly hair that scratched her throat when she consumed them.
She swam toward the center of the lake and lifted one of her arms to breach the surface so she could get a better whiff of any odors or feel the slightest breath of a breeze. Yes, there it was: the enticing scent of warmth that drifted from the north, but moving, moving toward the stone doors. How many were there? Quickly, she counted: nine distinct, strong scents of two-legged creatures, and the deliciously rank stench of one who walked on four, but each a vessel of hot, sweet blood, their thick bones filled with succulent marrow. She let her arm fall back into the lake, and the bubbles of her laughter rose up through the dark waters. To reach the entrance to the realm of the Stunted Folk, they must tread close to the shore, close enough for her to snatch them from the land. What a feast she would have!
Yet, she reminded herself, her duty was not just to feed her body, but to also guard the doors of stone, to let no one pass. For that is what the Wise One had told her after he summoned her from the Ever-night beneath the roots of the mountains. He had promised her the flesh and blood of land dwellers if she became the guardian of those doors, but it was a promise he did not keep. Nonetheless, she remained the guardian. Away she glided toward the doors.
Later, in her cave, she wept. Yes, her arm pained her from the injuries inflicted upon her sinews by that nasty little Two-Legs. Yes, her skin was raw from rubbing against the harsh stone of those doors and ripping up the ghastly trees with their thorns. Those discomforts did not cause her to weep. No, it was because her prey escaped, and she had failed in her duty. She had sensed an especially tempting smell — the fragrance of gold — on one of the little Two-Legs, and heard the gold whisper to her to take it, embrace it, and drag it down into the deep, silent water. She had reached for the Two-Legs who bore the gold, but he had eluded her, and in her rage, she ensured he would not be able to escape the black pits where he fled.
That night, she cried to Mother. I failed. They escaped. The whispering gold is gone. He will come. He will punish me. He will drag me out of the lake to burn in the light of the Sky-Fire.
Mother stirred in her sleep, and from her deep palace replied, Hush, my darling child. You have not failed, and he shall not punish you because he fears me. He fears you, too, because he knows who you are. He knows of your elder kin, they who dwell in the abysses among the stars, and he shall quake in terror before them, for when they come and we awaken, we shall devour all.
Even him, Mother?
Yes, even him. Now dream, my dearest daughter, dream.
Mother’s song soothed her, and she curled up in the cave, letting the gelid waters of the northern lake lull her to sleep and drive away the hideous whispers of gold.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
Many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
heartofoshun, ignoblebard, and nelyo_russandol for picking of the nits.
And yes, there might be a wee bit of Lovecraftian influence here.
Format: Ficlet
Genre: Horror lite
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Characters: Watcher in the Water
Pairings: None
Summary: In the depths of a cold northern lake, an eldritch horror awakens.
From across the tenebrous lake, made darker still as the dreadful Sky-Fire sank behind the western hills, the disturbances came. They skittered upon her flesh and awoke her from the dreams sent by her mother, who lay sleeping in her silent palace, far, far away in a chasm deep under the sea.
She unfurled herself and stretched. The many thick strands of her arms reached through the mouth of the cave to grasp the rock outside, the powerful suckers finding purchase on the slick surface. She pulled herself forward, flattened her head, and squeezed through the gap between the stones. Her body lengthened to slip through the narrow space, followed by her legs, so thin and tiny as to be almost useless, a vestige of a life long forgotten, until the whole of her floated in the open water.
She smelled and tasted the vibrations that rippled through the lake. No, these were not the shimmerings of Silverscales slicing through the water. That was no surprise, for over the years, she had eaten most of them. Nor were they the sound of the noisy Featherfolk that sometimes landed on the surface of the lake, much to their peril. Hard-pressed to find Silverscales for her sustenance these days, she drank the Featherfolk’s warm blood and crunched their bones with her broad beak. Now, she was ravenous. It had been many days since she had last dined.
The vibrations became muffled. Whatever had disturbed the water of the noisome creek at the northern edge of the lake no longer trod there, but instead had moved onto the land. She sniffed again and caught the faint aroma of hot blood in the water, much like that of the Stunted Folk who carved the stone beneath the mountains, where they stamped about on two legs and sported bristly hair that scratched her throat when she consumed them.
She swam toward the center of the lake and lifted one of her arms to breach the surface so she could get a better whiff of any odors or feel the slightest breath of a breeze. Yes, there it was: the enticing scent of warmth that drifted from the north, but moving, moving toward the stone doors. How many were there? Quickly, she counted: nine distinct, strong scents of two-legged creatures, and the deliciously rank stench of one who walked on four, but each a vessel of hot, sweet blood, their thick bones filled with succulent marrow. She let her arm fall back into the lake, and the bubbles of her laughter rose up through the dark waters. To reach the entrance to the realm of the Stunted Folk, they must tread close to the shore, close enough for her to snatch them from the land. What a feast she would have!
Yet, she reminded herself, her duty was not just to feed her body, but to also guard the doors of stone, to let no one pass. For that is what the Wise One had told her after he summoned her from the Ever-night beneath the roots of the mountains. He had promised her the flesh and blood of land dwellers if she became the guardian of those doors, but it was a promise he did not keep. Nonetheless, she remained the guardian. Away she glided toward the doors.
Later, in her cave, she wept. Yes, her arm pained her from the injuries inflicted upon her sinews by that nasty little Two-Legs. Yes, her skin was raw from rubbing against the harsh stone of those doors and ripping up the ghastly trees with their thorns. Those discomforts did not cause her to weep. No, it was because her prey escaped, and she had failed in her duty. She had sensed an especially tempting smell — the fragrance of gold — on one of the little Two-Legs, and heard the gold whisper to her to take it, embrace it, and drag it down into the deep, silent water. She had reached for the Two-Legs who bore the gold, but he had eluded her, and in her rage, she ensured he would not be able to escape the black pits where he fled.
That night, she cried to Mother. I failed. They escaped. The whispering gold is gone. He will come. He will punish me. He will drag me out of the lake to burn in the light of the Sky-Fire.
Mother stirred in her sleep, and from her deep palace replied, Hush, my darling child. You have not failed, and he shall not punish you because he fears me. He fears you, too, because he knows who you are. He knows of your elder kin, they who dwell in the abysses among the stars, and he shall quake in terror before them, for when they come and we awaken, we shall devour all.
Even him, Mother?
Yes, even him. Now dream, my dearest daughter, dream.
Mother’s song soothed her, and she curled up in the cave, letting the gelid waters of the northern lake lull her to sleep and drive away the hideous whispers of gold.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
Many thanks to
heartofoshun, ignoblebard, and nelyo_russandol for picking of the nits.And yes, there might be a wee bit of Lovecraftian influence here.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2016-03-12 05:59 pm (UTC)Kaylee Arafinwiel
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Date: 2016-03-13 02:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-12 06:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-13 02:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-12 06:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-13 02:43 pm (UTC)My favorite Lovecraftian - Tolkien x-over remains the crack!fic Eau de Olórin. :^D On a more serious tone, Dawn's Hastaina (http://www.silmarillionwritersguild.org/archive/home/viewstory.php?sid=855&chapter=1) really evokes Lovecraft in style and theme (forbidden knowledge). This ficlet just tosses around the right adjectives and alludes to something even more monstrous than the Watcher dreaming in the sea. :^)
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Date: 2016-03-13 06:59 pm (UTC)That is still my favorite too. It was both hilarious and horrifying!
Thanks for the rec. That story is awesome. Dawn did an amazing job capturing the mood. It made my eyes hurt to read it.
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Date: 2016-03-12 09:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-13 02:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-12 09:50 pm (UTC)You do so much to develop the incident before the Gates of Moria and add to the weight of fear and foreboding that Tolkien brings to the quest and its possible failure. Tolkien uses horror judiciously (IMHO) and yet, whenever he does, he makes a lasting impression--one does not lose those images!
In particular I am moved by the Watcher in the Water, the ancient evil lurking deep in Moria, and, yikes, how about the dead marshes! "There are dead things, dead faces in the water." (I'll never forget the first time I read that!) All of Tolkien's beautiful, horrible visions are so well done. Yet with this story and your development of the Watcher in the Water, by making it so much more present and real you have added to the frisson of inescapable danger that makes the books suspenseful no matter how many times one has read them.
You do scary so well!! Congrats on this short story.
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Date: 2016-03-13 03:05 pm (UTC)Totally agree with Tolkien's use of horror. He has a light hand, but evokes terrifying glimpses of the monstrous - the Watcher, the Dead Marshes, the things gnawing at the roots of the mountains. This Watcher has a more immediate presence but I hoped to still keep a bit of mystery there - what exactly is she? And who is her mother? Her elder kin who dwell in the abysses among the stars?
I'm not confident in my ability to do scary. I think
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Date: 2016-03-13 04:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-15 05:05 pm (UTC)Thank you for directing me to a really good reading experience.
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Date: 2016-03-16 01:36 pm (UTC)You know, I had never really given much thought to Cthulhu's sex, but took some inspiration from this entertaining collection of Lovecraft-inspired stories written by women: She Walks in Shadows (http://www.innsmouthfreepress.com/blog/books/she-walks-in-shadows/). I highly recommend this. I even went back to my very old "Ipswich" story (the Lovecraft-Dennis Lehane flavored fic; remember that? I posted part of it on the LC) and fiddled around with the protagonist - now BPD Detective Mary Margaret ("Maggie") Conway instead of Charlie Conway. :^)
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Date: 2016-03-12 10:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-13 03:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-12 10:24 pm (UTC)I guess some of the things Gandalf says about creatures like her quite lend themselves to a Lovecraftian interpretation, don't they?
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Date: 2016-03-13 03:13 pm (UTC)Yay! That's high praise, Himring! Thank you!
I guess some of the things Gandalf says about creatures like her quite lend themselves to a Lovecraftian interpretation, don't they?
Oh, yes, and I'm far from the only Tolkien fan to think so. As noted to
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Date: 2016-03-13 12:26 am (UTC)I really like that to begin with she is mainly interested in simple sustenance, but then the Ring draws her as well.
Nice and shivery, dreadful in the literal sense of the word; but also comforting, because we know the Two Legs will escape her.
Poor dear, I hope she finds a good meal soon.
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Date: 2016-03-13 03:18 pm (UTC)Like Oshun said above, Tolkien does horror very well and with a glancing touch so that the reader's imagination starts conjuring the most frightening stuff from the Unknown. The scene at the Doors of Durin was one of my favorite scary moments in the novel, and Gandalf's reflection that the creature went for Frodo first was significant.
My Watcher has a more immediate presence, and really, there's much more I could and should have done with this ficlet, but I hope she has a bit of mystery.
Let's hope she finds some fish or ducks first. It seems she prefers cuisine of a mammalian nature. o_O
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Date: 2016-03-13 03:56 pm (UTC)I love the way you write horror, you have such a light but sure touch and it works every time.
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Date: 2016-03-14 11:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-14 04:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-14 12:04 pm (UTC)*The elder kin no doubt being the much more malevolent relatives of the Pandë!verse Valar. Heh.
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Date: 2016-03-14 06:36 pm (UTC)Amazing.
Chilling...
...whispering...
...gold...
...ring...
...
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Date: 2016-03-14 07:24 pm (UTC)Thanks so much for reading my little indulgence! :^)
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Date: 2016-03-14 07:33 pm (UTC)I've crept out from my hiding place and found this little brilliant thing. Thank you!
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Date: 2016-03-14 10:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-15 01:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-15 01:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-19 09:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-03-25 04:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-04-27 05:53 pm (UTC)