And Then There Was Fiction - Chapter Four · Jun 28, 07:28 PM

Erik waited until the last of the guests had exited the parlor, then quickly stepped inside, silently picking up the key upon the coffee table and striding over to the wine cellar. The cupboard was precisely where it had been detailed; ten small keys glimmered up cheerfully at the masked man. Each key had a slip of paper tied to it, detailing a guest’s name. Slipping in a hand, he picked up the brass key with his name on it, and closed the cupboard. Replacing everything as it was, he strode from the room with all the speed possible to man.

The hallway was dark and musty, the dank smell of decay and dust hung upon the air: a silent shroud of mystery. It did not take him long to find his own room; the lock within the door gave a loud snap as it opened. His eyes glistened with interest as he recognized the ancient system. It would be easy to break into other rooms, he realized. Definitely something to keep in mind, just in case.

Stepping into his quarters, Erik was surprised to find the living space he was to remain in was quite different from the hallway he had just left. The large, scenic windows were open, allowing a comfortable breeze to flow through the space. A thick carpet covered the floor, and long draperies hung from the ceiling, creating a soft atmosphere.

Erik quickly took in the details of the room and, finding it suitable to his needs, sat down upon the bed. He then took notice of a large envelope on the bedside table…

Erik,

I see you have found your room in one piece. I hope you remain so in the future days ahead. Please do make yourself comfortable. Meanwhile, I simply must direct you towards the lovely view outside your windows.
*It is simply to die for.*

Your Good Friend,

M. Nicholas

Erik took notice of the particular accent on the words ‘to die for’, and wondered at the emphasis’s meaning. After all, he knew all but nothing about the person within whose house he was staying. He did not even know why he had decided to stay….curiosity, perchance? It was always a devil of a thing, curiosity. Lingering about in the corners of one’s mind, continually demanding to be vanquished only by the blood of knowledge, weaned on revelations.

Setting down the brief, scrawled note upon the table, he came to the window, staring out into the ominous twilight. There seemed to be nothing of particular interest out-of-doors, but he was sure there was some special meaning behind the words underlined upon the wrinkled page. Staring out into the oncoming night, his yellow eyes seemed like two tiny pinpricks of gold shimmering beneath the moon, as it began its ascent into the blackened sky. Erik sighed, the mysteries of the evening putting him quite at odds with the alleged sanity of the mansion’s owner. Who was this M. Nicholas? He certainly wished to remain anonymous for the most part; his name apparently meant nothing to the other occupants of the household. M. Nicholas….

Maybe there was nothing behind the name, and it was merely an alias, a fake name created by some mad being looking for a bit of fun with each of the odd guests. It was something certainly intriguing to the former opera ghost, and he would not rest peacefully until he discovered it.

Although, it isn’t that I have been getting decent sleep either way. Ah, to fall into the eternal bliss that is death! To dream forevermore! You corpses, hidden beneath the dry grasses; you have found true happiness. Perhaps a happiness Erik is doomed never to experience. A deep, melodious sigh escaped his lips, the two malformed pieces of pale flesh hidden beneath the strange mask. It was not as though Erik had not dreamed often enough. It was that his dreams left him feeling even more hollow, and lifeless. As though he had given a part of himself to that dream, that hope; and it had been ripped away from him.

The sun had set now, the pale moonlight laid upon the expanse of the moor; its open plain allowing him to watch the vast sky without ceasing. Erik knelt at the window for a time uncounted, different questions and answers racing through his mind. But most of the time, he merely stayed, quietly enjoying the beauty of the silence. A wind picked up on the open moor, and his thinning hair blew into his eyes.

“No!!” Screeched a young female voice, and Erik blinked furiously out of his state, turning towards the locked door. He heard the unmistakable stomping of many feet, and laughter. Irritated, Erik thrust a rude hand gesture at the closed door, and shut the window.

“Morgan, are you alright?” Another female voice stood out to Erik, and his memory reminded him that she was that Susan Pevensie girl, with the foolish younger brother. Though he was irate with the boisterous company for interrupting his thoughts, Erik couldn’t resist standing near the door, trying to make out snippets of conversation. The sounds muffled together, but he could safely assume from the new name – Morgan – that a new member had joined the group, and that everyone had finished their meal. He wouldn’t be missed at the foolish ritual, he was sure. Humans spent far too much time eating. It was no wonder most of them were overweight.

A pair of footsteps passed his door, and he decided to wait until most were in bed tonight before leaving his room again. He did not want any interruptions when he questioned the ‘hired help’ of the household. Surely they would know at least a little of their benefactor, which they could – in turn – relate to him.

“Morgan…?!”

This word caught Erik’s attention, and as the predictable shuffling of feet congregated in the musty hall, he listened.

“Morgan, what’s happened? What’s wrong?”

“It would appear that she has fainted.” Spoke that queer Dumbledore, in a serious tone. “We should get her to bed.”

After much pathetic exclamations from the entire boisterous party, Erik was appeased with the sound of a silent hallway. They had all wandered off to bed, the drama ended. Now, to begin solving the mystery of le manoir de M. Nicholas.

His door make a slight creaking noise as he slowly eased it open, Erik looked up and down the hall to ensure it was empty. Only the tall and fair-haired M.Greenleaf remained, and he was preoccupied with a strange-looking bust upon its pedestal, something clenched in his hand.

Turning to walk down the stairs, Erik’s light step making no sound, he was surprised to hear the strange man’s voice break the silence of the hallway. “You go seeking a solution to the enigma of the manor, good sir?”

Erik turned, finding that Legolas had not turned to watch the masked man descend the steps. He is the first to have heard my presence without my consent in a decade… “What man would not wish to solve such a riveting mystery?”

Legolas turned to give Erik a cold stare – an expression returned on the elf readily – and slowly nodded, their eyes locked as each figure calculated the other. After a time, the Mirkwood Prince held up a slip of paper that was crumpled in his hand. “I found this on the newcomer; I thought you might find it useful.”

Studying the other as though expected a sudden attack, Erik steadily walked over and retrieved the note, smoothing it out in his gloved hands and reading the now-familiar scrawl. Another note from M. Nicholas.

Delightful Miss Morgan,
I am very much gratified to hear that you were able to arrive. I am sure you will find your room to be quite satisfactory to your needs. I do hope that your meeting with Legolas Greenleaf was nothing short of copacetic!

Your Good Friend,
M.Nicholas

P.S. It’s in the bedside drawer. I do hope you find the lighting in your closet suitable; I had to request extra lamps in order for you to fully appreciate it all.

Erik looked up at M.Greenleaf, confusion dominating his expressive eyes. Legolas was apathetic as he asked, “What do you make of it, human?”

“It would seem our mysterious benefactor revels in using a diverse vocabulary, and leaving his guests ambiguous hints revealed only in even more secretive notes. Which, may I add, can add up to much, or nothing at all. He would apparently take pleasure in the child’s game ‘treasure hunt’.”

Legolas clasped his hands behind his back, staring off down the hallway with a contemplative expression. “What causes these conclusions to come to your person?”

The man seemed shocked for a moment, then haltingly replied, “The vocabulary. He uses uncommon words such as ‘copacetic’, and ‘gratified’. I myself received a private note, which also had the strange undertones as this note has. He suggests that the child requested to meet you, therefore leaving open the possibility of young Morgan’s arrival to be the usage of personal ties. What I mean to say, Monsieur, is that Morgan came because she was promised by our host the ability to meet you.” Erik waited a moment, until Legolas beckoned him to continue. “These not-so subtle hints tell me that the sender enjoys to confuse others, and force them to actually think about the information they are given. An enjoyment often used in the child’s game.”

By this time, Legolas had begun pacing silently along the hall, Erik’s voice echoing softly as he finished speaking, and waited for the elf’s reply. “Do you understand the complications you are suggesting? This ‘host’ of ours – who has decided to remain completely anonymous, therefore alienating himself from the ‘guests’ – knows not only who I am, and where I come from, but also that I would accept the invitation. That is even afore I mention that this ‘Morgan’ child seems to know almost – if not, all – as our host. The implications are astounding, yet curiously familiar, sir!”

Erik nodded, and an uncomfortable silence ensued. Legolas blinked, then looked up to demand Erik’s full attention and gaze. “You said you also received a similar note? Would I be too forward to request to see it?”

I do not see how it could hurt me, as I’ve already detailed some of my calculations so far. Perhaps this stranger could provide some insight into a note that has left even my intellect baffled.

When M. Greenleaf had the carefully folded note in hand, he held it up to the light in order to read it more clearly. His brow furrowing in deep thought, he placed a calloused finger upon a certain phrase. Erik took note that this man seemed to use two particular fingers more than the others. An archer, perhaps? “My good sir, am I reading this correctly? ‘To die for’?” When Erik did not reply, Legolas shook his head, “Might I once again intrude, and request to see this apparently magnificent view?”

Erik shrugged, nonchalant and curious as to whether or not this Greenleaf could create a better solution to the strange puzzle than himself. He led the way to his room, walking over and opening up the window. A chilling breeze floated through the room’s atmosphere, making the hair on both men’s necks stand on end. Before either of them could lean out the window for a better look, a piercing scream broke out, and both figures turned to each other, almost accusingly.

“The parlor room.” Legolas said simply, and they raced off, leaving the window as Erik tucked both notes into an inner pocket.

By the time they reached downstairs, Colin was panicking. The young man’s blue eyes widened in fear as he saw the two dark and ominous forms appear at the door to the parlor. “S-She just collapsed! I didn’t do anything!” He gestured wildly at Melantha, who was sprawled out on the floor, her raven tressed fanned out around her pale face. The deep brown eyes were open, unblinkingly staring into nothingness as her white hand gripped a note. Erik strode over, checking her pulse silently. Legolas walked over to the mantelpiece, where Melantha must have been facing when she fell. A small hand-mirror was lain face-down atop it, and he began to pick it up when Erik’s voice broke the stunned silence.

“She’ll come around soon. Tell me what happened.”

Legolas turned to look at Colin, who could not have looked in a worse state of shock if he had wished it upon himself. “W-We were just talking, and I…I mean, I asked her if she was seein’ anybody. She had been messing with something in the fireplace, and when she stood up, she suddenly gripped her ears, like they hurt or somethin’. I didn’t do anything, honest!”

The two figures now crouched around Melantha ignored Colin’s continuous whimperings, looking at each other as though sharing a silent conversation. Erik whispered, “Shock. She must have either seen something, or known something and pieced it together.” He looked down a muttered a curse. “I should have come down sooner, I don’t know if she’ll be fit to interrogate after this. Let us hope she is amiable after her collapse.” Legolas merely nodded, indicating the mantel piece with his eyes.

Erik turned promptly to Colin, quickly coming up with something for the boy to do. “Get some warm water and a few towels, and a bit of strawn to revive her. Make haste!”

Legolas raised an eyebrow at the last request, and Erik shrugged. “I had to make up some sort of herb to keep him out of our blasted way.”

Giving the man a slight grin, Legolas reached over to pick up the mirror on the mantle. “What are your thoughts on this?”

Erik hesitated before lifting up the hand-mirror, his own reflection sending a shiver down his spine. Bloody mirrors…

“It appears to be an ordinary mirror, but I fear it has some relevance to the mystery.” Legolas continued, turning to watch as the young woman began to stir. “Your thoughts?”

When Erik did not answer immediately, the prince turned to see the man still staring at his stony face in the glass. Giving the man a rough shake on his arm, Erik looked up, a melancholy expression in his golden eyes. It took a full minute before Erik found himself under control again, and Legolas noticed the mirror disappeared, probably into some distant pocket on the masked man. “My thoughts? Talk to the girl. She certainly seems able to eaves-drop with quite a bit of talent.”

She was sitting up now, her wide brown eyes watching the two men in fear as they talked in low voices. “I don’t know anything. Just leave me alone.”

Erik felt compelled to roll his eyes and just threaten the obvious hidden truths out of her, but struggled to refrain. He would not rest until this freakish secret was found out. “Mademoiselle, we merely wish to learn how you came to be unconscious on the floor of the parlor. Can you detail to us exactly what happened?”

Melantha shook her head, the black locks flying wildly around her face. “Colin was babbling on. I wanted him to shut up, or at least block him out. I walked over to the mantle to dust it off or something, and I saw this mirror there… I was looking at my reflection, when I suddenly heard tons of screams…screams in my ear…I wanted to…” She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders racking with sobs. “I’m sorry. I just…I wanted to murder somebody. To make it stop.”

It took several minutes for Colin to come back; and when he did, he heard that Melantha had collected herself enough to go up to her own bed for the night. Only Erik and Legolas remained in the room, reclining upon the chairs… deep in thought… First the young Morgan, then Melantha.
Erik looked up to meet Legolas’ eyes. She had told them everything, they knew. But what did it mean? What had happened in the parlor, what was happening to the women in the mansion, and most of all, who was M. Nicholas? What were his intentions?

— MaskedNicci

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