Music of the Night (1x1 with Kiscokids)

J

Joeaikman47

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Original poster
It was a dark night. The moon hung high in the satin black sky, the Stars obscured by the mist that surrounded the fateful hill. The hill where it all happened. The murder, the music, the anguish. This hill was where the world was nearly torn apart, all because of one man.

The word man is used lightly. He is naught but a shadow, a blight on the land that he calls home. Legend has it that he was once a noble knight, in service to the High King. One day he was sent away on a quest to the castle in the mountains. He got lost, never able to return to his home, his family. As he wandered he cursed all that had cost him his happiness and his life, and this curse still follows today.

Whoever the Man of the Mountains is, and maybe we will never know, he had one weakness. The hilltop at night was one of the most beautiful places in all the land. The valley stretching before it, usually crowded with merchants touting their wares, urchins running around on the street, or travellers, simply looking for a meal and a place to stay before they moved, was quiet and tranquil. The silence only broken by the occasional call of an owl. That is, until at precisely midnight every night the music began. A melody that cried of loss and heartbreak, of suffering and rejection, of joy and ecstasy, and then of death, and the silence it brings with it. A song that pulled at the heart strings of any who slept below, stretching into their dreams and playing with their minds.

It pulls the unwary to the hill to listen, to ensnare them, to corrupt them. The song of 1000 years but of only 1 life. He stands there and sings, the wind with him, on the hill. The Man of the Mountain. This is where it started. With the soft, gentle noises of the Music of the Night.
 
Olivia stood at the well, pulling up the bucket that would bring her fresh water. She sighed as she imagined the tiring walk back to the home she shared with her father, situated at the edge of the forest.
 
Jarred was a young hunter from the village. He was handsome, tall and very adventurous. His deep brown eyes gleamed when he was outside, his bow strapped across his back and his mouth free to sing the tunes of the woodland he called home. This particular day had been a bountiful one. He'd shot down two squirrels and found bushels of wild strawberries down by the pond. He was now heading towards the nearest well, in hope of a drink, in full voice.
 
She grabbed the bucket, filled her water pail to the brim, and sent the bucket flying down the well once again. Someone was singing, so sweetly that even the crows stopped cawing in the nearby field to listen. Olivia looked down the dirt path toward the woods, then down at her heavy bucket and sat down at the well, deciding a few minutes relaxing in the sunshine couldn't hurt.
 
His song spoke of an old children's tale, a story used to scare little children away from the forests. It spoke of an ancient creature who controlled the paths of nature. He could speak to the trees and they would listen, could command animals to be silent, could stop the flow of a river. His name was lost in the ages, none now speak it, but his story lived on.

"And when the darkness fell, he stood there in his glade
And fought a fearsome foe, with nature as his blade
Through the tears and suffering of those within his land
When it came to killing his enemy, the hero held his hand"

Legends say that as a result of this cowardice the creature was cursed to never see his forest in the same way again. Cursed to wander it, looking for children who wandered off the assigned paths and feast on them, thinking he was ridding the world of evil.

As he emerged from the well he spied a woman sat at the well. He waves at her cheerfully, his song coming to an end.
 
Shielding her eyes from the sun's glare she saw the source of the song. He was young and handsome. She had seen him in town, selling meat that she could never afford. She waved back to him, rather awkwardly, heat rising to her cheeks.
 
"Good morning fair maiden" he took her hand in his and gently kissed it. His hands wer surprisingly soft, for someone who clearly spent most of his time outdoors "it is rare to see anyone else out this far from the village this early in the morning. Is there anything I can assist you with?"
 
No one had ever kissed her before, save her parents, and Olivia felt her blush deepen. "My day starts earlier than most, yes, sir, but I find the sunrise enjoyable. I'm just resting for a moment before I take this water back to my home. May I ask why you are out here this early? I rarely see a man walking alone at this time a day, especially a man with your status."
 
"Do you not find it more enjoyable walking in the forests of the mountains by yourself? I cannot imagine myself in times of old when I am accompanied. I cannot picture the epic battles that took place here, the legends and myths that walk the mountainside. I cannot sing to the trees themselves and hope that one day they will take notice of me" he laughed and smiled at her "I cannot appreciate the beauty of what the mountains have to offer when my fellow hunters accompany me. You look weary, and it is a long walk back to the village, let me carry your water and we can walk together"
 
"Oh, but I am not going to the village," she said, standing up. She was tall for her age, but only reached his shoulder. "My father is a woodsman, as the Cunninghams have been for years. I am more inclined to spend my time in the woods than the village, and know the value of solitude when walking. But, if you have nothing better to do I wouldn't mind company on the walk back, granted you may have to walk twice as far if you are headed toward the village."
 
"For a pretty girl like you who appreciates the joys of the mountainside I would walk many miles more" he picked up her pail, carrying it carefully, his rabbits strapped to his belt and a bag of greens covering his back "You shall lead the way, for even with my knowledge of the mountains your home is new to me"
 
She turned away from him, picking at her lip and trying not to smile. Playing with the hem of her long dress she began walking along the dirt path. "This way," she said, stepping over puddles and mud. The road was seldom used, except for the woodsmen and hunters, for this part of the town was dark and dreary, where only the poorest and most desperate settle.
 
"They say that long ago this road led to an old grove, further in the mountainside. And that in that grove is a pool, that can cure all the ailments of the world. In the old days, people would travel far and wide for its magic waters, even the king himself used it to seeks a cure for his dying wife. Then it fell into disuse, it's water became poison, it's name became feared. That's why people avoid this area" he sighed "I spent large times of my childhood searching for it, but I never could find the pool"
 
"I've heard the tale as well, many times from my father. But I believe that's all it is. Anyone who thinks otherwise is a child or a fool." She bit her lip again and wrapped her arms around her waist.
 
"Then a fool I will be" he laughed, his laugh as beautiful as his singing voice "secrets and legends often have little pockets of truth and clues left behind. The Forest likes people to know of the darkness it holds. The Wanderer at Night times. The Dark Shadows of lives long past" he looked at her sideways "the Music of the Night, playing on the wind"
 
"Those things are for children," she snapped, clearly out of character. "If you're going to speak of them I can walk home myself."
 
He raised an eyebrow at her "then speak of what you wish. I am sure I shall find it most fascinating" he offered her an apologetic glance"I did not mean to upset or anger you, my friend. It's is merely that these stories intrigue me"
 
"A person's interests tell a lot about them," she said, looking at him. "I see you hunt, for how long?"
 
"My father was a hunter, I've been practicing my shit since I was just shy of 9, when I could first carry my bow" there was an element of pride in his voice "I figure I'm a fair shot now, but nog a patch on my father in his prime. He used to be able to shoot a rabbit in the eye from 50 metres"
 
"50 meters?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "So was he an archer for the king?"
 
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