Intended to post the rest tonight, but I didn't realize how long the
final two scenes were.
-LurkingWolf
---
Lois drooped once the door was closed and Balrog was no longer
nearby.His shoulders sagged so much that the robe he wore very nearly
slipped from its position and fell to the floor.The fighting ring had
been draining, and he had seen very little progress.He was certain that
if he were forced to defend himself with his current level of skill, he
would be killed before he had to any chance to even launch a
counterattack.That wasn't even considering the dull ache that completely
pervaded his body.He rubbed his shoulder, but it only made it worse.
With the consideration of fighting, Lois' mind drifted to Balrog's
suggestion.Fight from all fours, like an animal... it was so easy for
that insufferable lutin to suggest!He had never had his mind wrested
from him by a magic beyond his control, beyond his comprehension!He had
never seen his memories shattered, fragments melting away the more he
pressed.He had never felt the gnawing desire to go back...
Lois snarled and gouged a set of claw marks in the provided side
table.The candlestick wobbled a bit, but unlit as it was he was in no
hurry to right it.Why should he desire the mind, the life, of an
ermine?It offered nothing to him but a meaningless existence!Yet the
thought was there, the incessant nagging that suggested to him that
being an ermine would be better than what he was now, a man thoroughly
robbed of memory, of purpose!He could convince himself that he had no
true desire to be an animal, but the moment acting like one was remotely
suggested he panicked, denied the thought, fought it with every fiber of
his being!Why was it such an abhorrent idea if the desire was not real?
The ermine sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, head low.There
was nothing for it.He could only do his best to resist whatever magic
now afflicted him.For now, the best he could do was to get some sleep so
that he would be clearheaded in the morning.He adjusted the bed for a
few moments, and then lay down to take his rest.
His attempts to rest met with utter failure.It was not even so simple as
just tossing and turning.Every time he closed his eyes for a few
moments, an indescribable feeling of anxiety overtook him until he
opened his eyes again.No amount of tossing and turning, no amount of
self-encouragement, and not even leaving the candle lit for some
illumination could lift that disquiet.In only a few minutes after he had
begun his attempts, Lois sat up on the edge of the bed once more,
shuddering as he tried to settle his nerves.
Despite how little he recalled about whom he was, Lois knew that this
was not the sort of person he was supposed to be.He was convinced that
no man could live with this sort of anxiety.He put his head in his
hands, growling his frustration to himself.There was a clawing emptiness
inside, and the lonely silence only piled more misery upon that.He
wanted to find Balrog to break the silence while he calmed down, but he
did not want to disturb his friend after leaving him on such unfortunate
terms.
Sitting there on the edge of the bed, he finally began to feel some
semblance of calm.At the same time, quiet questions began to prod at his
mind, unheard but utterly real.The more he relaxed, the more he
wondered, until he finally lifted his head slowly, and beside it, his
right hand.
While the memories of what he had looked like before the recent change
were unclear at best, the knowledge of what a human hand should look
like was hardly lost.His hand was a mix of that and an ermine's paw, the
proportions of the mix uncertain but clearly favoring the ermine.His
fingers were significantly shortened and the padding on them was thick
enough to dull the feeling in his digits.The thickness of those digits
also hindered their independent movement.He could grasp things well
enough, but precise movement, or artistic pursuit of any kind, would be
nearly impossible with a hand like this.
Was letting it go truly so much of a change?
With that thought, Lois watched as his fingers dwindled until they were
nothing more but the toes of an ermine's paw, albeit larger.It was
barely an effort at all, he mused.The change in shape was so minimal,
though, so why should it have been difficult?
By the time he glanced at it, his other forepaw had already taken its
most feral form, and was retreating slowly into the sleeves of the
robe.This development was unsurprising; his arms were still too long to
be forelegs, after all, and making that simple adjustment was a logical
next step.
He stood before proceeding with the next step. In a few short moments,
his body had gained several inches, stretching him out into proportions
ideally suited to the animal whose semblance he bore. Sighing, Lois
willed his legs to change. The alteration of his joints was perhaps the
most dramatic of all of the changes, and yet it passed in a moment, his
knees and hips adjusted to prefer quadrupedal to bipedal movement. He
still stood on his hind paws comfortably, but attempting to walk on them
would result in considerable discomfort.
He dropped to his four paws, feeling the grain of the rough-hewn wood
beneath his pads and claws. It was a welcome, familiar feeling, one
that relaxed him further as he willed his size to match his shape. When
he had accidentally accomplished a similar shift earlier in the day, his
two-legged stance had caused considerable disorientation during this
adjustment. Now, though the rapid loss of size still made his head
swim, his quadrupedal stance made keeping his composure a simple task.
His robe enveloped him now, thick and warm. Rather than panicking at its
sudden cavernous size, Lois slipped easily from among its folds and
stepped atop it. The ermine tested several spots amid the haphazard
folds until at last curling up amongst them. He wound the material
close about his body, a ward both against the cold and potential intruders.
Only once he had again settled into his bed and closed his eyes did he
truly realize what he had just done. The anxiety returned in force, and
he sat up, fully intending to shift back. Something stopped him, however.
He realized, lying there in a discarded robe as though it were the
pinnacle of luxurious bedding, that he felt more at ease in this state
than he had felt since regaining his senses. This begged him consider
the state of his mind, but a simple perusal of his thoughts, and the
realization that he maintained the ability to think in such a way,
quickly aided the conclusion that he was still thoroughly human in that
regard.
Why was he not panicking? It was an easy question to ask, but the
answer proved as elusive as a pearl in a pauper's pocket. His reaction
to Balrog's combat advice had been immediate and reflexive, requiring no
level of thought deeper than that which motivates the blink of an eye.
Now, however, rather than resistance being so natural, the opposite was
true. Shifting into the form of a feral ermine had been easier than any
discernibly human thing he had attempted since waking in the morning,
and it had come almost unbidden. After demonstrating his repulsion at
the idea of emulating an animal in combat, he could only wonder why
fully adopting the form of that animal failed to produce a comparable
answer.
This question and several others hounded his mind as he once more
prepared to sleep, wrapping himself in the fallen robe. As he began to
approach unconsciousness, however, only one of them stood out in his mind.
"Will I still remember being human in the morning?"
As troubling as the question was, it was not enough to dissuade him from
drifting further towards sleep. It did delay the process, but it could
not fully stop it. Finally, just as he fell asleep, one satisfactory
answer settled into his mind.
"I would rather be an animal than live in fear of becoming one."
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