The Erlking

Wah-hay, new chapter… mainly cause I had a strange shift at work today and was finished at half-7. And now I have to babysit… damn!

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Words: 2,118
Chapter 2
The Embrace
Harry didn’t understand from what it was exactly that he ran, but he knew it couldn’t be anything good. He did not live with one of those families that enlightened children with tales of witches, and demons, nor myths for that matter. The Dursley’s disliked even the mention of magic, and their son Dudley was forbidden from watching any of that Disney fairy-tale, magic, bullshit – Harry was forbidden from watching TV full stop. But nonetheless, Harry knew something bad had been with him in that forest. Something that wasn’t quite… normal – not quite natural.

Not exactly something special either.

‘Special’ implied a goodness about it that made it better than other good things. Harry didn’t believe there was anything remotely good about the choking mist that had tried to drown him in the forest; rising, and rising and rising, until it reached higher than the child and he couldn’t even see his hands when he held them right in front of his glasses.

And with that decision in mind, Harry ran.

He ran the whole way back to Privet Drive, his magic the only thing that stopped his weakened body from collapsing in shudders and sweat. His heart hammered, not only from fear but exhaustion. He was in no condition to be pushing himself thus.

And yet the Erlking allowed the boy to over exert. The chase was known to be the favourite part of the Hunt for most of the Huntsmen. And the Erlking was similar to his followers in preference: he enjoyed the chase, the excitement that coursed through what humans would call his veins, the way his non-existent heart thrummed with anticipation as his Hell Hounds leapt upon their quarry, trapping them or savaging them depending on the Erlking’s mood. He relished the screams of many.

But not the screams of the boy in front of him. He trailed behind Harry, seemingly gliding above the floor, the hem of his human skin cloak barely brushing off of the pavement. He was silent, and the mist still followed behind him like an obedient pet.

Harry was screaming now. From fear, or rage or frustration, but probably a mix of the three. Soon, the Erlking thought, it may very well be a scream of a more pleasant emotion.

Harry banged at the door, and the windows and even the walls of Number 4, but no lights came on and no one came to answer the door. With a sob, Harry slumped to the floor on the doorstep, his knees clutched to his chest as he heaved, desperately trying to calm his breathing. He glanced up quickly and almost screamed again. The mist was moving towards him, swarming almost like a river of transparent grey rats, clamouring over one another each desperate to be the first to reach the child. Harry shot to his feet, and ran around the side of the house. He pushed open the little gate that granted a shortcut to the back garden. He didn’t bother to knock on the back door; instead he went straight to the shed, and tried to lock himself inside.

He sat, his back against the door of the shed, the key – once he turned it in the lock – had been taken out and was held in his hand so tight the Erlking could smell the blood rising to the surface of the boy’s palm. His small body trembled, with fear and sickness.

He wouldn’t last much longer.

The mist pressed up against the door and the windows, and began trying to seep in around the frames. Harry sniffled and tried to rub his eyes with the back of his arm. The mist formed a hand, and grabbed onto Harry’s sleeve. Instead of his arm, two bony fingers entwined with briars and spider webs curved on the boys cheek, brushing away the pearl-like tears.

“Oh, come, thou dear infant! Oh come thou with me! Full many a game I will play there with thee,”1 the Erlking whispered, his voice husky and seductive as he watched the child’s small fingers grip the two of his.

Harry let go of the fingers. “Come where? I’m not supposed to go with strangers.”

“Oh, child, thou fairest child. I am no stranger. I know you.” His fingers stroked Harry’s cheek again, before moving to brush the fringe from his forehead. “Beautiful boy, delicate boy. Come, boy, embrace me.”2

Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly. He moved his head back an inch, not enough to stop the Erlking from touching him but enough to show he was uncomfortable and suspicious. “How do you know me? Do I know you?”

The white beneath the Erlking’s hood flashed brighter as the creature smiled, although you couldn’t see the smile. “I am the Erlking. I have always been, and I will always be. I am the Erlking, and I take what I desire. Would you deny me my desire? Come with me, and I will call you ‘beloved’ until the day you die.”2

Harry’s mouth opened but no words came out.

“My father, my father, and dost thou not hear
The words that the Erl-King now breathes in mine ear?”
“Be calm, dearest child, 'tis thy fancy deceives;
'Tis the sad wind that sighs through the withering leaves.”

Harry could briefly remember reading something about a Earl and a King in history but he wasn’t sure if that was the same as an Earl-King. As if sensing his thoughts, the Erlking laughed. It was a deep, rumbling laugh, and it echoed as it rumbled around the creatures chest before leaving his mouth. “I am not an Earl, my beloved. I am the Erlking, the King of the Alders, I ride in front of the Hunt, and steal the souls of dying children.”

“You want me?” The Erlking’s crown dipped forward as he nodded. When he stood straight again, the crown jumped of its own accord so that it lay, once again, in the centre of the creature’s head. “Does that mean I’m dying?”

“Yesssss,” he drew out the word, hissing between his teeth as he reluctantly admitted the truth of the situation. “But I can make you strong. You can be mine until you die, my beloved. Wilt go, then, dear infant, wilt go with me there?1 Strong I will make you, so no more will you fear death from illness or disease. Come thou fairest boy. Come there with me.” His entire hand was now resting on the crown of Harry’s head; the tips of his skeletal fingers were rubbing his forehead and his temples.

Harry carefully climbed to his feet. His hands were pressed to the door to steady himself as he wobbled slightly. The Erlking reached out to help him, "I love thee, I'm charm'd by thy beauty, dear boy!”1 The Erlking whispered into Harry’s ear, the hood of his cloak brushing against his cheek lightly. The King’s breath was light, and warm, like the mist that still swirled around on the floor, hiding Harry’s feet from view.

“Let me hold you dear boy.” The Erlking breathed, his face now against Harry’s neck so he was almost bent in half. Harry nodded his head jerkily, and drew in a startled breath as the Erlking – instead of closing his arms around the child – swung the boy up into his arms and walked from the shed, Harry pressed to his chest. Harry lay his head to the Erlking’s shoulder and smiled as he smelt the scent of leaves and water, and mist, that was embedded within the Erlking himself.

“Where are we going?”

“On my strand, lovely flowers their blossoms unfold,”1 he promised softly, not answering Harry’s question. “My daughters by night their glad festival keep,
They'll dance thee, and rock thee, and sing thee to sleep.”1

Harry frowned and did the unthinkable: he thumped the Erlking on the shoulder. “Why wont you tell me where we’re going?”

The Erlking let out another bellowing laugh as three large men appeared out of the mist. None of them were as tall or imposing as the Erlking himself, but they were large and Harry shrunk back from them nonetheless. “May I not surprise my beloved? A surprise; a gift for letting me embrace thee.”

The three men each wore a cloak of animal skin, and a pair of trousers that were made of doeskin or leather. They all had furry boots on, but no clothing on their upper bodies. One’s clock was made from centaur skin, with their bony tails dangling from the hem like tassels. Another’s was made from the scales of a mermaid’s lower body. And the last had made his cloak from what he could salvage of a Thestrals pelt.

“I don’t like surprises,” Harry whispered. “Every surprise I ever got was bad.” He mumbled against the Erlking’s shoulder. While the three Huntsmen did not react to his words, the Erlking frowned beneath his hood and released a small sigh.

“Very well beloved. We are going home.” Home was, in fact, named the Eternal Lodge, but in some legends that had been changed to Misty Lodge because the mist that followed Harry that night was always present in the Erlking’s homeland. There were children everywhere, all dead of course, their spirits having been taken by the Hunt as they rode through various towns and villages where the children had dared be awake and attempt to look upon the face of the Erlking. The Huntsmen rode deceased stallions, which the Wizards had named Thestrals. At the heels of the horses ran ghost Hounds; the animals were dead so rather than run they floated, spiriting towards their prey inches above the ground. But incorporeal they were not. Their teeth could still bite and their claws render a person to pieces.

The daughters of the Erlking were beautiful as they were talented. There were three. One was a singer, who could seduce with the sound of her voice alone; Wizards would later name her kind Sirens. The second was also considered in many versions of the Erlking legend as the Mother. It was she who comforted the dead children and she who helped the newest Huntsmen settle into their new unlife. The youngest child was a dancer. Her body moved as if to invisible music, and the unwary were captivated by her dance. The dancing usually led to intercourse, during which the daughter could steal the soul from her unlucky victim if she chose. Wizards had named her kind Succubae.

As he explained all of this, the Erlking carried Harry towards a Thestral hidden in the mist. The other three Huntsmen each had a hand on the reins of their own beast. With ease, but care, the Erlking heaved himself into his seat without needed to let go of his beloved boy.

“It sounds really nice there.” He wrapped a corner of the human skin cloak around his own shoulders to keep warm.

The Erlking smirked beneath his hood, his eyes fixed on Harry’s lips for a second before he leant down to steal a chaste kiss. “Nice would not be the word I would have used.” His voice carried a hint of sardonic, but as Harry was used to people being much more blunt, he didn’t flinch at all. The Erlking knew of course, and as if to apologize, he held the child tighter.

Time would pass as quickly as a second in the Lodge, while really it had been years on earth. Or vice versa. Time, like the temperature, and the Hounds, all depended on the mood of the Erlking. And as it was, he was tempted to keep Harry to himself for as long as possible. If time passed too quickly on earth Harry would eventually have to die, and then he could no longer be the Erlking’s beloved, because then his soul would belong to the Erlking anyway, as just another dead child. He would lose his importance, like everyone else, in death. He would no longer matter.

As they rode towards the forest where the Erlking had first set eyes on Harry, the pondered the turn of events. If it had not been for that fat human, his beloved boy would not be in his arms right then. So it seemed, that the Erlking owed Vernon Dursley a debt of gratitude.

The Erlking may not be kind, but he most certainly honoured his debts. So he would repay the favour in kind. Reflecting on what he could remember of the boy from reading Harry’ soul the Erlking decided he’d be doing the Dursley’s a favour anyway. Vernon Dursley gave him his beloved, delicate boy –

– so the Erlking would take Vernon’s away!

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1. The Erl-King by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.
2. The Erlking by John Connolly.

Words:
Chapter 3
Prince of the Forest
coming soon…

TBC

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Thanks for reading. And thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter; I’m glad it went down so well. Please review again (or, for those of you with children, I’ll come and take them away… signed, Your Friendly Neighbourhood Erlking)!

I need to think of a decent name for him… does anyone know what his actual name is? Cause I can’t find it? It has to be something powerful, but that I wont misspell lol!!!