The Beast Within: The Legend of the Vampire Elves

~*~*Supergurl15*~*~

Summary: Esgalan, the elvish prince of Angaglínien, is bitten by a vampire. He reflects on his life as a Vampire- Elf and the choices he makes. *One shot fic. *

Author’s note: This is actually an assignment I had to do for school, but everyone said it was pretty good, so I decided to post it. I love elves, and I love vampires, so I got this really stupid idea of combining the two together to get *dum dah dum dum *… Vampire Elves! The whole prospect of an Elf being a vampire is so cool, and after my friend drew me a picture of one I had to write a story about vampire elves. So, if you like it, review. If you hate it, well, bravo for you. Hey, that rhymes. Haven’t had my coffee yet, so everyone’s claiming that I’m saying weird stuff. *shrugs, and walks over to the coffee pot *

Oh, and I hate it when people spell Elvish like Elfish or Elven like Elvin so I’m going to be using the other spellings; Elvish, Elven, Elves… etc. etc.

Yeah, one more thing. Flashbacks are written between this**. Since fiction press, wants to be crappy and not let me post italics!!! Now, moving on.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I am an elf.

The son of Alohëir, the Elvish king of Angaglínien, or ‘Golden Wood’ as mortal men call it.

Elves.

Known for our grace, beauty, wisdom, and immortality.

To be of pure elven blood again, not tainted by the immoral will of demons.

How I long to have my life back, but alas, it cannot be so.

Five thousand moons have passed since that day.

The last day that I would ever see the golden sun; or feel it on my now pale, cold skin.

The last day that I would spend with family and friends, without fear of inflicting pain, and death upon them.

The day my life was ripped away from me.

The memory, like the haunting call of the Raven, still echoes throughout my mind.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

** “My lord,” Belgalad, one of my closest friends, and the best warrior in the kingdom, stormed into the throne room. He was soaked to his skin, blood running from large cuts and gashes on his face and neck, “we are under attack.”

He had barely uttered those last four words before he collapsed.

My father stood gracefully. He and I had already known this. They had attacked before, but had been unsuccessful in their hunt. I had heard stories of their kind; they were humans, mortals that had fallen into darkness. Corrupted by an unseen evil, the creatures were gifted with an unnatural immortality. They killed to feast upon the blood of others. They were vampires, creatures of the night.

My father signaled for one of the healers to offer Belgalad assistance, then spoke, “This must end, I will not sit idly by while these demons instill fear within the hearts of my people.”

He stood tall and proud, doubt invisible on his fair face. The nearest guard handed my father his sword.

“Father, I shall go,” I said, rising from my seat on the throne. My father shook his head to protest, but I retaliated hastily.

“Angaglínien needs you to rule them.”

“My son…”

“Father, there will be no gain if both of us are to depart.”

Defeated my father hung his head, “Esgalan, for too long I have tried to shelter you, but no longer. Promise that you will return.”

“I will, father.” **

I do not know why I left. A chance for freedom, and to bring honor to my name perhaps? I will never know.

** My father nodded and smiled grimly, he retrieved his sword and placed the hilt into my hand, “Be careful, my son.” **

That was the last I ever saw of my father.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

** We rode into battle, trying to cast out accursed feelings of regret and anxiety.

I had counted fifteen, fifteen horrible sinister demons. They creatures snarled viciously, the silver moonlight gleamed yellow on their ghastly fangs. Anémbor, my faithful steed whinnied loudly, pawing at the air.

“Attack!” I yelled, drawing my father’s sword from its sheath. The light of the moon shown brightly against the cold silver of the blade.

The battled roared on. Slashing through two of the vampire’s satanic heads, I pushed on. A while longer I looked around; there was not a vampire to be seen.

We had won.**

Or so I thought, but I was deceived.

** It was truly a horrible sight. Blood littered the battlefield, the decapitated bodies of our foes were scattered here and there.

A new sensation of pride and satisfactory, coursed through my veins, and I could feel my hatred and animosity towards the foul beasts growing, like white lilies in the beauty of spring.

Anémbor turned, I was so lost in the darkened depths of my thoughts I did not acknowledge that I had let my guard down. I did not see it as it leapt from the shadows of the night. It sprang upon me, knocking me from Anémbor and onto the ground.

The rest of the army was too far into the distance to hear my cries.

Weak and feeble compared its powerful build, I screamed as I felt its sharp fangs pierce my neck. Fresh, red blood spilled onto brown dirt, its crimson color staining my golden head. I cried in agony as my life was slowly being drained from me. The beast had now finished feeding and arose. With a swift kick to my stomach, the vampire retreated.

I was alone.

For the first time in my life, I was alone.

Alone… and dying.

I lay on the ground, frail and helpless, awaiting death’s embrace. **

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The following morn I awoke, the events of the day past seemed far and distant. My hand slowly found its way to the two identical holes in my neck.

I did not understand it, but I was very much alive, or I appeared to be. I was terribly confused, my vision, which was already accelerated, due to my elven heritage, was surpass that of most of my kin and even the highest of elves. My sight was not the only thing that had changed, in truth; all of my senses had heightened, even more than before.

New freedoms and passions aroused within me; sorrow, pain, and even hunger.

Hunger…

This hunger was like nothing I had ever experienced before. Voracious and sudden, it frightened me, for I knew what it was that I thirsted for.

Blood.

I tried desperately to ignore these new feelings, feasting upon small woodland animals.

But alas, it was not enough.

As the seasons changed and the years passed, I began to accept my newfound gifts. I had managed to stray from my family and friends. My father believed me to be dead, which was true.

Many a night I wept, for I had not seen him in ten years.

And in those ten years my thirst for blood did not lessen. Like the wolf, ravenous and dangerous on the heels of its prey, I became a skilled hunter, catching squirrels, rats, and even a few deer every now and then. I still could not bring myself to feast upon the other beings that made their homes in the wood. They did not deserve to experience what I had; it was a curse, not a gift.

As the days grew longer and the nights grew shorter I realized that I could no longer restrain my need for mortal or immortal blood.

My first taste of elvish blood was a memory that I will always regret.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

** The night was cold, and wet.

The frozen rain stung me as it whipped across my face.

She was lost.

So young and innocent.

I was on my nightly hunt. The inclement weather would make any mortal’s journey impossible, though I had no trouble trekking through the thick mud and harsh rain.

“Pardon me, sir elf.” she could not have been but of a thousand years or so, “The rain is heavy and I have lost my way.” Tears threatened to spill from her brown eyes at any moment, “if you could be so kind as to direct me to Angaglínien.”

“Certainly milady,” I could not help but stare. Here was an elf from my own kingdom, lost and afraid, and for a moment my heart was full of compassion. But it was short lived, as I fought back emotions of hunger and temptation.

We continued onward, stopping in the hollow of an Elm for a brief rest.

She told me her name was Fërwindel, and that she and her father were loyal subjects to the king. We talked long into the night.

Though she was frightened at first, I was beginning to earn her trust.

Hours passed and the night was no longer young, she rested, leaving me to stand guard.

She put her faith in me, and believed me to be who I portrayed myself to be, but I betrayed her.

I began pacing; I knew what my next action would be. The part of me that was vampire told me to obey my instincts and kill, although my elven nature and upbringing held me against it.

There was a ferocious battle raging between the two nemeses, my mind was a constant twist of emotions and uncertainties.

With each step closer to her sleeping form, my awareness of the task before me was more inevitable.

As I stood directly above Fërwindel I hesitated, I could not bear the empathy and remorse that I felt for this lonely creature. I fought for control, but my gluttonous hunger was too great. **

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

My guilt consumed me, trapping me in a blackened pit with no beginning or end. But as time passed my taste for immortal blood flourished, and I began killing to satisfy that hunger. Male or female, girl or boy, adult or child, it did not matter. I was not who I once was, nor will I ever be again.

I am an elf.

The son of Alohëir, the Elvish king of Angaglínien.

I am a vampire, a fallen star.

Alone, rejected, and forgotten.

Esgalan lives no longer.

I am Dûrerthion, the first of the Vampire- Elves.

______________________________________________________________

Sadly, I can only take credit for the following names:

Alohëir

Belgalad

Fërwindel

The rest are from elvish translators, *looks around sheepishly * Hey, I try!