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Bledda and the Beast
Nov. 23rd, 2018 10:47 amBledda lurched back suddenly, almost losing his balance and falling to the dirt as his legs tangled beneath him. It would have been a humiliating blow to his young pride, but he was too startled and concerned with the creature in front of him to worry overmuch about a young man’s dignity.
Bledda was almost eighteen years old, a young man who had grown up in the dark days of Beleriand when the Great Enemy had ruled uncontested over the continent. Until ten years ago, that was, when the vast and glorious armies from the West had landed to challenge the Great Enemy. Bledda’s mother had decided it was time the Bór return to Beleriand from the homeless wilds of Taur-in-Duirnath and plead for succor where all the other survivors of Beleriand gathered. Bledda had fought orcs and seen many elves, but he had never seen this creature before.
It was large and loud, with a mouth full of white fangs, and it was snapping and growling at Bledda. The vicious beast was only restrained by a piece of leather around its throat and linked to a post driven in the ground. If pressed, Bledda would say it most resembled a warg, though he did not understand why anyone in the refugee camp of Balar would keep a live werewolf, especially when children and the infirm were nearby. Spittle flew from its red maw and dagger-like teeth. Its body strained against the thin piece of leather, lunging towards the young man. Bledda cringed at the volume and malice of sound. Why was there such a dangerous beast in the center of camp and why was he not warned when the boat crammed with other desperate and weary survivors of Beleriand had unloaded its passengers on the crowded shores of this island?
An old man was drawn by the noises of the creature and Bledda’s startled shout. He started to yell at Bledda in an unfamiliar language, making gestures towards the howling creature and pointing accusingly at the young man.
"I did not do anything!" Bledda shouted in his best Sindarin. He knew his mastery of the Grey-elven tongue was better than most in his tribe, but it was hard to hear anything over the creature’s snarling and howls. The clamor was drawing spectators, and Bledda began to panic.
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Bledda was almost eighteen years old, a young man who had grown up in the dark days of Beleriand when the Great Enemy had ruled uncontested over the continent. Until ten years ago, that was, when the vast and glorious armies from the West had landed to challenge the Great Enemy. Bledda’s mother had decided it was time the Bór return to Beleriand from the homeless wilds of Taur-in-Duirnath and plead for succor where all the other survivors of Beleriand gathered. Bledda had fought orcs and seen many elves, but he had never seen this creature before.
It was large and loud, with a mouth full of white fangs, and it was snapping and growling at Bledda. The vicious beast was only restrained by a piece of leather around its throat and linked to a post driven in the ground. If pressed, Bledda would say it most resembled a warg, though he did not understand why anyone in the refugee camp of Balar would keep a live werewolf, especially when children and the infirm were nearby. Spittle flew from its red maw and dagger-like teeth. Its body strained against the thin piece of leather, lunging towards the young man. Bledda cringed at the volume and malice of sound. Why was there such a dangerous beast in the center of camp and why was he not warned when the boat crammed with other desperate and weary survivors of Beleriand had unloaded its passengers on the crowded shores of this island?
An old man was drawn by the noises of the creature and Bledda’s startled shout. He started to yell at Bledda in an unfamiliar language, making gestures towards the howling creature and pointing accusingly at the young man.
"I did not do anything!" Bledda shouted in his best Sindarin. He knew his mastery of the Grey-elven tongue was better than most in his tribe, but it was hard to hear anything over the creature’s snarling and howls. The clamor was drawing spectators, and Bledda began to panic.
( Read more... )
