{Hey guys. We've been extremely busy and decided to write this short one shot in order to try and get rid of some writers block for our other stories. If you type "Der Erlkönig" into youtube you can listen to the poem and it sounds amazing. "Erlkönig" is translated to "Erlking" in this fanfic, but is also sometimes translated into "Elf king." I would also like to apologize for any formatting errors. Doc Manager does not seem to want to be helpful today. We will try to fix any errors. Enjoy!}


Der Erlkönig

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe


Wer reitet so spät durch Nacht und Wind

Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind

Er hat den Knaben wohl in dem Arm

Er faßt ihn sicher, er hält ihn warm


Mein Sohn, was birgst du so bang dein Gesicht

Siehst Vater, du den Erlkönig nicht

Den Erlenkönig mit Kron' und Schweif

Mein Sohn, es ist ein Nebelstreif


Du liebes Kind, komm geh' mit mir

Gar schöne Spiele, spiel ich mit dir

Manch bunte Blumen sind an dem Strand

Meine Mutter hat manch gülden Gewand


Mein Vater, mein Vater, und hörest du nicht

Was Erlenkönig mir leise verspricht

Sei ruhig, bleibe ruhig, mein Kind

In dürren Blättern säuselt der Wind


Willst feiner Knabe du mit mir geh'n

Meine Töchter sollen dich warten schön

Meine Töchter führen den nächtlichen Reihn

Und wiegen und tanzen und singen dich ein


Mein Vater, mein Vater, und siehst du nicht dort

Erlkönigs Töchter am düsteren Ort

Mein Sohn, mein Sohn, ich seh'es genau

Es scheinen die alten Weiden so grau


Ich lieb dich, mich reizt deine schöne Gestalt

Und bist du nicht willig, so brauch ich Gewalt

Mein Vater, mein Vater, jetzt faßt er mich an

Erlkönig hat mir ein Leids getan


Dem Vater grauset's, er reitet geschwind

Er hält in den Armen das ächzende Kind

Erreicht den Hof mit Mühe und Not

In seinen Armen das Kind war tot


It was a late night. So late, in fact, that the stars were out but no eyes gazed upon them. Every sensible mother, child, and father was under a blanket in a bed or under a book in a study. The few people who still showed more movement than a breath were not preoccupied with the time or workings of the night.

The wind brought a chill to the air as it whistled through the trees and houses and hair. The man to which the hair belonged was also too focused on his task to worry about a pesky wind or a sky full of gems.

The man, instead, gripped a smaller body to his own. He hoped that the coat tucked around it as well as the rocking body of the horse beneath him was enough to keep the body from the cold. After all, the child was already dying. Chilled bones could in no possible manner help the child live through the night. There was only one thing to do for the child, and that was to reach his destination as quickly as he could. The man never did notice, though, the eyes that stared at the dying child in his arms through the shadows.

The small body shuddered. This shudder was different from the ones preceding it, though. "My son," started the man, "why are you hiding your face in fear?" The child simply looked at his father with steady eyes, the hint of wild sickness being forced to only linger in the edges of the gaze.

"Don't you see, Father, the Erlking? The Erlking with a crown and a flowing robe?"

"My son, that is a fairy tale."

Out of the shadow in which the eyes lived came a hand and a smirk.

"You dear child," whispered a silky voice, "come along with me. There are many games I will play with you and bright flowers cover the beach. My mother also has treasures to be found." The words were coming from the shadows and out of a mouth formed into a deceitful curve.

"My father, my father, do you not hear what the Erlking is promising me?"

The father spared only a glance at the child before returning his gaze to the dim road ahead. "Be quiet. Stay quiet. You only hear the wind rustling the dry leaves."

"Won't you come along with me, my fine boy?" The voice was relentless. "My daughters will attend to you so nicely as they perform their nightly dance. They'll rock and dance and sing you to sleep." Sleep did sound wonderful to the child, but he was currently occupied with thoughts of his father and why he was unable to hear the convincing words.

"My father, my father, do you not see the Erlking's daughters? They are over there in that dark place."

"My son, my son, I see it clearly. It is the old willow trees looking so gray."

Once again, the voice tried to charm the boy, but the voice was becoming deeper, more frightening. "I love you. I am charmed by your beauty. But, if you are not willing then I'll use force."

The hand that had been extended as a gesture of friendship now flew forward. The shadows followed the command. The shadows crept quickly, so quickly that they were not noticeable by the horse or father. The child felt them, though. The child felt the shadows wrap around his neck.

"My father, my father, he's grabbed me. He's hurting me!"

The father shuddered as he urged the horse onward as he held the quivering child. In the shadows, the being that would later be known as Pitch Black smirked triumphantly as he melted deeper into the shadows.

The father finally rode into the yard and jumped off of the horse. He ran to the door and started banging on it. His arms shook. A man came to the door after more banging. The father quickly pushed his son into the man's arms and pleaded with him. The man slowly shook his head and handed the boy back.

The child was dead.