Fire and Ice

Chapter 7: Breaking the Cold Grip of Ice

Day 9 Continued

Sherwood scowled at the dark form of the giant man in the entryway of this humble hut. This is the guy that has subjected his family into a whole train of abuse because of a substance. As far as male elves go, he is the lowest. Real male elves don’t yield to a substance for their problems. Sherwood thought wrathfully. Instinctively he looked at Willow. She looked like how he felt. She was glowering at this man with fiery hate. It surprised Sherwood that a Moon Elf woman that inherited the gift of ice had a spirit of such fire.

            The dark man walked farther into the room. His eyes were unfathomably dark and they held an expression of wrath. His thin lips were drawn into a crooked line and Sherwood could smell the horrid stench of the substance that Armandus was hooked on. The man’s posture was cold, threatening, and stiff. His aura spelled out intimidation. He glowered at the family. They were pressing their backs to the wall in fear. The whole family suddenly looked tiny in comparison to this dark behemoth before them.

            He opened his mouth. His voice was cold and harsh. “I leave for a half a day and this is what I get when I return? Do you even believe for a second that you can escape me?” Sherwood could feel the chill and mead emanating from this man. This man wasn’t only drunk on mead, but he was also drunk on anger in such an intoxicating amount that ice crept along the walls. The family instantly moved away from the wall before they became chilled, their eyes wide with fear. The thought of certain death must’ve crept inside their minds.

            Willow stepped forward angrily. Sherwood moved in to stop her, but she broke out of his grip with surprising strength. “You are a disgrace to the name of a Moon Elf. I don’t care if you come from a prideful city like I do. No elf should ever beat his family whether he’s drunk or not. If you loved your wife and posterity you would never lay a hand of wrath upon them. But you have, so you have no right to have them anymore. We draw the line, right here, right now!”

            Despite the fact that what Willow just did was incredibly stupid, Sherwood couldn’t help but feel inspired by her. She wielded an insane amount of courage to stand up to this giant of man that was drunk with mead and wrath. He also felt fear; fear that the man was going to lay a hand on her.

            The man glowered at Willow. More ice coated the walls and the temperature instantly dropped off the scale. Frost was coming out of his nose and his eyes were popping. “Who are you? What gives you the right to barge in my castle, take my family, and insult my honor? You are just a sniveling little girl.” He said in wrath and animosity.

            Willow’s eyes turned grey. Frost was emanating from her. “You have no idea what you are talking about. The mead is talking not you; It’s controlling you and deforming your judgment, you tyrant.” Willow snarled.

            Before Sherwood could do anything, he saw a flash of curly brown hair and a petite body. The blur flew into the wall and the blur coalesced into the form of Willow. She slumped down the wall like water and fell onto the floor unconscious.

            Sherwood was numb with rage. It traveled through his blood stream and clouded his mind. Now he was drunk with rage. He had every right; this villain just knocked Willow to the wall because she spoke out the truth and stood up to this tyrant. He unsheathed his sword without hesitation and the ice melted off the walls. Steam came off the walls with a sizzling sound.

            “Hey you, villain, what gives you the right to lay your hand on Willow. Since you hurt her and your family, I have no choice but to dispatch you right here in your castle in front of your wife and children. You have no weapon, no honor, no respect, and now no family. You should think about that instead of yielding to a petty addiction.” Sherwood said. He felt flame rushing through him uncontrolled.