Knacks and Whacks

Lieve lay in bed and thought of the wonderful visit she had had at the Pony. There had been a man there, a tall, slender man with long, reddish hair tied back in a ponytail, playing a lute. Lieve had stopped close by, leaning against a pillar to listen. When he had finished playing, she had clapped for him and he had looked up at her, smiling his thanks. Her heart nearly caught in her throat. How frightening his looks were! A scar stretched from above his left eye to around the middle of his face. Lieve looked away hurriedly. Luckily he didn't notice her shock, for he had already bent down to his lute to start a new tune. Whatever his looks, he surely had a knack for playing the lute! The tunes were lively and merry. Lieve forgot her shock and listened raptly. When he was finished she told him how impressed she was with his playing. He smiled and bowed. They fell to talking. He was a captain, a leader of men into battle. He spoke of elves and of killing orcs and told her a little about his travels. She listened to him raptly, but was unable to believe all he said. He told her of his closest friend, an elf. Lieve was entranced. He mentioned that Lieve might like to meet her. 'Oh if that would be possible!' she cried. 'I've never seen a real live elf before! I would have a thousand questions for her!' He chuckled. 'She is very elflike when she is with strangers, but when she is with friends and friends of friends, she is quite chatty.' Lieve asked him what brought him to the Pony so he told her that he was on his way to Rivendell and the Misty Mountains. She had never heard of the places and asked him if he would be willing to tell her about his adventures when he next was in Bree. He agreed willingly. They chatted on for a bit longer, when Lieve suddenly realised how late it was getting. She took her leave of her companion, waved a hurried goodbye to Mr. Butterbur and scurried out the door. She was late arriving home and her father was in a foul mood. 'Lieve! Where the hell have you been! Come here girl!' She blanched, looking for a way out. There was none. Then she wished Dalgaroth were home. He always tried to intervene on her behalf and could sometimes prevent her father from hurting her. But unfortunately he was away once again. Her father grabbed her by the arm and dragged her past her mother, who was standing in a doorway watching her husband's actions approvingly, to the stables, picking up a leather harness on the way. There he sat on a stool and pulled her dress up around her waist and her smallclothes to her knees, then bent her over his knee. Having bared the twin halfmoons of her buttocks, he proceeded to smack her with the harness. 'How many times,' (whack) 'have I told you,' (whack) 'to be home,' (whack) 'on time!' (whack). Each whack of the harness cut into her flesh, causing her rump to quiver and tears to run from her eyes. She tried not to make a sound as she knew that would only aggravate him further. When he was done, he pushed her off his knee so she rolled awkwardly into a painful half sitting position on the floor, hurting her elbow. Her buttocks smarted where the cuts came into contact with the floor. He pushed her chest with his foot, sending her sprawling on her back in the straw and dirt. She stayed there, breathing heavily until he told her to get up and dressed. She gave a quiet sigh of relief that he hadn't taken it into his head to hurt her too much this time as they made their way to the dinner table where her mother was waiting, a prim expression on her face. Polite, meaningless conversation was made during dinner and she escaped to her room as soon as she was able.