Dark Hunger (part 6)

 Shadows of the Anduin: A Tale of Mirkwood (Part 6)

The traveller leaned closer to the fire, rubbing his hands against the biting chill that seemed to cling to the area, even with the sun gone. He took a deep, fortifying swig from the wineskin he had bought at the last tavern, letting the mediocre vintage settle his nerves. His eyes flicked towards the massive, brooding silhouette of Dol Guldur. It was said to be inhabited by unsavoury creatures, cursed by the dark wizard whose influence still corrupted the land. He knew he wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight; the persistent feeling of being watched had not left him since he made camp. It set his nerves on edge, but he had to rest his horse. He took another pull from the wineskin, and again felt that chilling, prickling sensation of eyes upon him.

Meanwhile, the Elven vampire approached silently, her movements displaying the effortless, liquid grace she had acquired with her transformation. As she drew nearer to the man by the fire, her senses sharpened to a violent, razors edge. She could hear the tiny crackle of the embers, the subtle whisper of the breeze through the dead leaves, and pounding like a low, irresistible drum, the heartbeat of the man sat by the fire.

Her initial, fleeting desire was to simply join him, to stand by the flames for a time, to attempt to regain some of the warmth that had fled from her soul since her meeting with Rhûn. But as she got closer, the dark Thirst within was drawn to the surface by the sound of his life. She felt her fangs begin to extend, tearing at her lip. She desperately tried to fight down the rising hunger pushing her forward, and her steps lost some of their fluid grace, becoming stiff, hesitant lurches. A despair, deep and choking, rose up, summoned by her utter inability to control this feral hunger. Her shredded soul let out a silent wail of surrender, and her remaining control snapped. Tauriel became an unwilling, horrified passenger in her own body. 

Her eyes blazed a vivid red, and her claws and fangs snapped to full extension. In the space between two heartbeats, she was upon him, her preternatural speed a blurring shadow. Her fangs sank into the warm, pulsing flesh of his neck, and she drank deep of his lifeblood. The rich, metallic taste was a warm, overwhelming balm to the cold hunger within her soul. The man froze, his mouth agape with a soundless scream that was lost in the shadows. The man’s mount, already terrified by the shadows of Dol Guldur, tore at its tether in fright at Tauriel’s sudden, monstrous attack. Unable to break free, it thrashed in panicked futility.

The feeding frenzy passed as quickly as it began. Tauriel stumbled back, resting on her knees in the dirt. The Thirst was sated, yet the despair was immediate and absolute. She wept, her dark eyes shedding large, crystal tears that fell onto the soil still wet with the dead man's blood. The sorrow was a clawed thing, sucking her down. She wanted only to retreat to the quiet darkness, to hide from the horror of her own actions.

Control. She needed control. She could not approach Thranduil’s halls like this.

Her racking sobs subsided. Slowly, she rose to her feet, wiping the residual blood from her chin with an angry swipe. She noticed, absently that her claws had retracted back into her fingertips and her sharpened canines had also pulled back. She took a deep, despairing breath, acutely feeling the sorrow and the weight of the life she had just taken. She turned toward the terrified, straining horse. I am responsible for two deaths now, her thoughts wailed. How much more blood will be on my hands before long?